Warning: This chapter contains guns, blood, and graphic violence.

Raelyn woke up to a giant stack of cinnamon pancakes she didn't feel she deserved. Eliot seemed so happy, like a puppy that had discovered water. They had breakfast, and they watched Eastwood movies (sans Million Dollar Baby), and Raelyn spent another night, but the following morning, she had to head home. She had yet to tell Quinn, and she didn't want him finding out from anyone but her. Eliot was reluctant to let her leave his sight, but he knew better than to prod.

Raelyn knew she couldn't just show up on Quinn's doorstep; he'd probably open fire out of shock. So, she texted him, "Hey" and waited. Within half an hour, her front door flew open, and a pistol was aimed at her head.

She put her hands up. "So you're upset. I get that. You know, if I ever doubted you and my dad worked together, that look right there sealed it, I mean, do you guys practice that, or is it-"

"What the hell, Raelyn?" She'd never seen him angry, not this angry, not with her. She stuttered for a few minutes, not finding the words for an explanation. "Answer me."

"I was protecting my dad!"

The magazine ejected from the gun, and he tucked the pistol into the back of his pants. He embraced her. "You can't do that to me."

She hugged him back. "You need more friends, Quinn." He laughed. "You smell good. You look like hell though."

"Thanks."

"What the hell!"

"You've got to be kidding me! Dad!" Eliot had, for the second time and two times too many, walked in on Raelyn mid-hump with Quinn. She rolled off him, wrapped herself in one of the sheets that created their palate on the kitchen floor, and got to her feet. "What in the name of Charlie do you want? I told you I was busy this weekend!"

"Last time you told me you were busy, you ended up killing four people, including yourself." Eliot gestured to the sheet. "Why are you covering up? Everyone in this room knows what you look like naked."

Quinn snorted. "He has a point." He ran his hand up her leg. "Wait, does he know about the new tattoo?"

She kicked at his shoulder. "You hush, or you're continuing with a dislocated shoulder."

"There's a new tattoo?" Eliot questioned.

"Yeah, I got it in Colorado. It's not a big deal, now-"

"When were you in Colorado?"

"When I was dead. Now, seriously, I'm trying to make up for the fact that I didn't get any between killing Moreau rising from the dead."

"You didn't get any in Colorado?"

"No, I was dead."

"Did you set up a palate to have sex on your kitchen floor?"

Quinn chimed in, "No, we started in the bedroom, but the beer's in here."

Raelyn shook her head. "This is punishment for the dead thing, isn't it?" Quinn and Eliot were snickering. "Fine, I'm going to bed."

Quinn grabbed her ankle, "No, wait."

Eliot started walking away. "I'm leaving, Rae. Use protection."

"Always."

"It's been such a fucked up couple of months, I enjoy a simple little, grab-the-thing deal," Raelyn said as she tucked the prototype of a C4 pistol into her pocket. "Did you get the tapes?"

Eliot nodded. "Let's go." They jogged towards the exit on the roof...and were greeted by two dozen guards holding rifles aimed at the two of them.

She took in a breath. "That's a lot of guns."

"It is," he agreed.

"What are the chances you can disarm enough that this goes back to being a smooth job?"

"Slim. What do you have on you?"

"A few knives, some zip ties, a C4 pistol prototype...oh, and half a dozen smoke bombs."

"Smoke bombs? Alright, make a screen, run, get to Vance."

She gripped his bicep. "How are you getting out?"

"Don't worry, I'll make it out."

She yanked his arm arm. "Look at me. If I even have the slightest inkling you're going to throw yourself on a grenade for me, I'm not moving."

He kissed her forehead. "I have an out, now go or I will throw you off this roof. Ega. As you go, make sure that you throw the guards behind you."

Her eyes narrowed and then she gave a single nod. She pulled the bombs out of her other pocket, lit them, threw, and ran. As she threw the first guard behind her and, consequently, towards him, he grabbed the rifle and cocked it. The only thing Eliot saw were the images that plagued his dreams for months; the battered dog tags in the rubble, the Death Folder, the mementos floating down the river. He began firing at the guards, the ones that he could see. Bullets came out of the smoke at him. He went for the roof access door and used it as a shield. When he ran out of shots, he picked up rifles from fallen guards and fired more.

The bullets stopped and the smoke cleared. The bodies of two dozen guards littered the roof. Eliot looked towards the edge of the roof, where the repelling rig that was the exit for him and Raelyn. And there was Raelyn kneeling with blood dripping from her side.

Shaking his head in denial, he leapt over the bodies to her side. As he reached her, she collapsed to a weak sitting position. Her face was twisted in pain and confusion. He wrapped his arm around her, keeping her sitting up. "Raelyn, honey, stay with me. It's going to be okay."

She shook her head. "I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine." Her eyelids were fluttering.

"Vance, get me an emergency team now. Raelyn's been shot."

Vance's voice answered from the com in his ear, "Already on their way. She's tough, Eliot. She'll make it."

Raelyn kept repeating "I'm fine" until her voice trailed off, and she went completely limp.

Eliot looked at the pooling blood on the roof and saw the twisted, familiar face of the man he knew shot his daughter in his reflection.