Tiffany decides to go to the brownstone in the morning to pick up Felicia and bring her back to the station to continue her search through the videotapes. She enters the brownstone wistfully, remembering the night before her wedding - the last night she spent there.

"Hi Tiff," Terry said upon seeing her. "Long time, no see."

"Morning," Tiffany said. "I've come to get Felicia."

"She's already gone," Terry said.

"Really? Woman doesn't waste any time."

"I think she was having trouble sleeping, probably was waiting for hours to get up and out," Terry said.

Tiff nodded. "Good to see you. We'll have to do lunch soon."

"Absolutely, any time. Call me or I'll call you."

Sean walks in the front door just as Tiffany's about to walk out of it. He's a little extra taken aback given the nature of his very intricate memory from the previous night.

"She's already gone," Tiff said.

"Wow," the distracted Sean replied. "And I was worried about being here too early."

"Why are you looking at me so funny?" she asked.

"You didn't happen to stop by the penthouse last night, did you?" he responded, still not quite sure if he had imagined it all or not.

"Uh no, why?"

"Nothing," he said, covering. "The doorman said a woman stopped by but didn't leave her name or number. Was just asking."

"A woman?" she replied with a tinge of jealousy in her voice despite her best efforts to hide that. "You're seeing someone?"

"Well, I can't go on indefinitely in limbo, right? Everyone's getting on with their lives."

"Right."

"Maybe I should go get married to someone I'm not in love with," he said.

Tiffany looks like she'd been slapped in the face after hearing that and Sean regrets having said it immediately. She heads for the door and goes out on the front steps.

"Tiffany, wait. I'm sorry."

"Why be sorry? You're right. I can't keep doing this to you. I had my moment the night before I got married right upstairs in this very brownstone, then I made a decision for the both of us and it's very unfair of me to turn around and ask for more from you. I can't hold on to you with one hand and push you away with the other. "

He grabs onto her with both hands. "You want to know if you're still the one I can't forget? Yes. You are. I still love you. I don't know how to stop. Is that what you need to hear?"

Four men are approaching the brownstone, but Sean and Tiffany don't see them because they're transfixed on each other.

"Sean, I..." she started to say.

Two of the men grab each of them, putting cloths with chloroform on them over their noses until they pass out. Both of them struggle as long as they can before they are eventually subdued. They're quickly carried off and into a van waiting on the street.

Sometime later, Tiffany gets slapped across the face to bring her around, and even that didn't totally counteract the effects of the drug that knocked her out.

"We want you to tell us about Frisco," a voice said.

Tiffany's brow furrowed. "Couldn't you just go to a travel agent?" she said through the haze. "This seems like an awful lot of trouble to go through in order to find out about some California hot spots."

"Your HUSBAND ... Frisco Jones," the voice demanded.

Tiffany's head didn't get any clearer after that statement. "My husband ..." she said aimlessly, her voice trailing off. Then she remembered where she had been the last time she was conscious. "Sean. Where's Sean?"

"We can talk about Mr. Donely in a few minutes. Right now we want all the information you have on your husband."

Tiff was feeling less lucid as the conversation went along, despite the fact that she was becoming more fully awake by the minute.

"He's a research scientist at General Hospital," she said. "I don't know what he's working on. I can't help you with that."

"No!" yelled one of the kidnappers who seemed to be running out of patience. "You tell us about the man you supposedly love right now or we will hurt you."

Now Tiffany was even more confused. She wasn't sure what answer they were looking for. The man she loved, well, how would they know about that, she thought.

"Sean?" she asked weakly.

"This is getting us absolutely nowhere," the irritated kidnapper said. "I'd be surprised if she even knew her own name."

"I do know my name," a drowsy Tiff said indignantly. "Tiffany Hill." She thought about that again. "Tiffany Baxter. ... Tiffany Hill Baxter."

"Unbelievable!" the upset kidnapper railed. "Your name is Jones. Felicia Jones."

"You think I'm Felicia Jones?" Tiff said, starting to get a little more clear-headed and amused by the prospect at the same time. "I got news for you. I'm not her. Didn't you have a description? 'Cause, yeah, we both have blonde hair, but I gotta say the similarities pretty much stop right there."

"You are Felicia Jones, your husband is Frisco," another kidnapper said.

Still a little punch-drunk, Tiffany starts giggling at the prospect. "Me and Frisco, eh? Has possibilities, I have to say."

"Do you know where Frisco Jones is, Mrs. Jones?"

"You two just won't let up on that, will you? ... No, I don't know where Frisco Jones is. Do you? Because he's my friend and I'd really like to see him again."

A woman who has been watching this interaction via monitor flashes a signal button twice to get her comrades' attention. They grab Tiffany roughly and throw her into a dark room. Her arms are bound and gags are placed over her eyes and mouth.

Sean is brought into the same room Tiffany had been in. He's much more lucid than she had been when her interrogation started.

"Mr. Donely, we want the information you have on Frisco Jones."

"I don't know anything about Frisco. I've been trying to find out about him myself."

"Don't mess with us. We have someone we're pretty sure you wouldn't want to see hurt."

Sean tries to think back to what was happening before he was clocked upside the head and rendered unconscious.

"Where is she?" he asked viciously when the memory clicked into place.

"Mrs. Jones? She's a noisy one, that one. Trained well apparently. She's safe, believe me. We're taking good care of her - meaning she hasn't been hurt ... yet."

"You have Felicia?" he asked, not really convinced that's the case.

"You two apparently have short attention spans," one kidnapper said. "You were on the porch engaged in some kind of intense discussion when we grabbed you both."

Sean leans back in his uncomfortable chair. He's sure he knows who they actually did have in their possession. "If you hurt her, you better plan on killing me. Because if not, I will hunt you down and take care of you myself."

"We know your reputation, Donely," the other one said. "That's not your style."

"You have no idea who I am since I left the bureau, and I am telling you, you touch one hair on her head and you die."

"That's probably an insight you shouldn't have shared with us, showing weakness and all. Could be used against you."

"It will be used against YOU if anything happens to her, understand?" Sean said with purpose.

"He's not going to talk," the mastermind said, signaling the kidnappers again with two flashes followed by a long one and two shorter ones. One of the kidnappers smiles in anticipation.

"I'm sure you know what that one means," the kidnapper said, cracking his knuckles.

Sean nods knowingly. "Subjects who will not impart information get put out of commission," he said.

"That's right," the kidnapper said as he closes in on him.

"Remember what I said," he reiterated just before the duo tag-teamed the defenseless Sean.