Tried separating the scenes again...it works on the post but doesn't show up on the story. I'm sorry

Down Every Road

It took Melinda thirty minutes longer and several threats to get everyone to bed then three more trips up the stairs before they were actually asleep. Jemma and Trip were full of questions about the woman who had appeared at the door forcing all of them to sneak into the apartment over the garages. Placating them with promises to give them answers when the time was right was unacceptable. Skye understood very little about what was going on but was more than happy to join in her older siblings battle to stay awake as long as possible.

After listening for telltale sounds of movement and mumbles, Melinda was certain her opponents had given up the fight and finally laid down their arms…and legs and heads… All was quiet, but she couldn't be sure they went to sleep. Just to be sure, she walked to the bottom of the stairs for one last check. She turned her ear to the upstairs and stood listening. After a few seconds, she smiled and started to turn away when a slight movement caught her eye. She peered up into the dim light to see Skye seated at the top of the stairs hugging the railing. She closed her eyes and let out a long slow breath before placing her foot on the first step.

"Hi, Mama," Skye smiled at her as she reached the little girl's eye level.

Melinda rested her hands on the step below Skye's perch and leaned forward gently touching her forehead to her tiny daughter's furrowed brow. She let out a long, soft, exasperated breath. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"Where Fizt, Mama? He no in hims bed. How I sleep wit no Fizt?" She characteristically put out her hands, palms up and bounced them up and down.

Melinda's heart beat a bit faster, aching at the fact that she could not answer her little girl's question. She picked up the child, took the last few steps and then turned down the hall toward Skye's bedroom. She pushed the little girl's head down on her shoulder and kissed her cheek. "You don't worry about that, bao bao. It's time for little girls to close their eyes and sleep."

"I no tired, Mama. I stay wit you, kay?" Skye yawned. "I find Fizt, too. Kay Mama?"

"No 'kay', baby." She laid the little girl in her bed, pulled the covers over her and pushed Salty into her arms. Melinda sat on the bed next to her baby and brushed the fine hair from her face. Skye stared at her with wide eyes.

"You sad, Mama?" Skye pouted, rubbing her eyes.

"Mama is tired, baby," and scared, she thought.

Skye scooted to the side and picked up her blanket. "You sleep a me, Mama." She patted the mattress next to her.

Melinda smiled at the little girl's offer as she lowered the blanket and brushed her hand over Skye's head. "Mama's got a lot of work to do before she goes to sleep."

"You find Fizt, Mama? You put him in hees bed?" The little girl's eyes were growing heavy. She had trouble keeping them from closing as her thumb made its way to her lip.

Melinda took her hand and held it in her own for a moment before kissing it and tucking it under the blanket. Skye snuggled into her pillow, half-asleep.

"Yes, baby, Mama is going to find Fitz and tuck him into his own bed." She bent and kissed the child's head.

"Mama…" Skye's sleepy voice called her back.

Melinda stopped at the door and took a deep breath, tilting her head back as far as it would go. She closed her eyes and gave an order without turning around. "Skye, you have to go to sleep. No more nonsense, it is time to close your eyes and rest." The frustration in her voice was evident and her patience with this small adversary in the war on sleep was growing thin.

Skye sat up on her bed and hugged Salty to her chest. She peeked around its floppy head, sensing her mother's growing annoyance. "I no be not sez, Mama. Why Zemma and Frip no take me too? Frip say I too liddle. Zemma liddle, Mama?"

Melinda pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose. She realized that Fitz was Skye's interpreter and that made his absence hurt even more. She needed to get back to the discussion in the kitchen, needed to be involved in the plan to locate her son, but in the same sense, she could not abandon her baby. Maybe she should just give up and take the child with her. She'd fall asleep in her arms or in Phil's and that would end this battle. Skye would just keep asking questions until she exhausted herself or her mother and tonight Melinda did not have the strength to continue. She massaged her forehead and attempted to untangle Skye's kid-speak. Suddenly, one phrase cut through all the others.

"Take you?" She turned back and advanced on the child so quickly that Skye fell back on the pillow holding Salty in front of her like a shield. "Take you where? Skye…" she pulled the little girl back up and gently placed Salty on the pillow. "Where, Skye?" Melinda held the child's shoulders and shook her just the tiniest bit, not realizing her anxiety until Skye looked up at her.

The little girl's eyes grew wide and her bottom lip trembled as one large tear rolled over her cheek. "I sorry, Mama. I tired. I close my eyes. I sleep, now." A second giant tear rolled down her face and she took a deep breath to quiet the sob that might make a noise. Crying out loud in the night was a bad thing. Skye knew that, even if Mama and Daddy said it was okay.

Melinda immediately realized her harshness with her youngest and pulled the little girl into a hug. "Oh, baby…Mama is so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, nu ying." She kissed her repeatedly between words and rocked slowly. The mother stood with her baby in her arms holding the little girl's head against her shoulder and patting her bottom gently as she paced the darkened room. She shushed her little daughter between her own sobs.

Skye pushed back and looked into Melinda's eyes. She pressed a small hand on to her mother's cheek. "No cry, Mama. I be good." Melinda smiled a weak smile, took the little hand and kissed its palm. "Frip and Zemma find Fizt so you no cry. Frip and Zemma get him back onna bus."

The reality of what Skye was saying hit home and Melinda rushed, with Skye on her hip to the other two bedrooms, finding both empty. She gripped the little girl tightly as she dashed down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"They're gone!" She proclaimed breathlessly as she skidded to a stop. Four pairs of eyes widened at her announcement.

Trip held Jemma's hand tightly as they walked the few blocks to the bus stop that would take them to the nearest Metro hub. He wasn't a genius like the little girl who walked next to him, but he was no dummy. Trip had lived in the city long enough to know that a tall black teenager leading a skinny little white girl down the street in the dark was a recipe for disaster. Hopefully, they could get to where they needed to go without attracting too much attention.

"Now, you know what to do once we get to the station, right." He spoke quietly to Jemma.

"Stay as far from you as possible, but never so far that you can't see me or I you." Jemma repeated. "But, won't other people wonder why a girl my age would be out and about at such an hour?" She asked, looking up at him.

Trip let out a slow breath and scrunched up one side of his face. "You tell them you missed your train and had to take a later one. You're on your way home and your folks are expecting you."

Jemma walked faster to keep up with Trip's much longer stride. "Won't they wonder why my parents didn't just come to fetch me? I would wonder that, Trip."

Trip shook his head. "Girl, not everyone wonders as much as you do, in fact no one wonders as much as you do." He laughed a little, but she did not share his humor.

"Trip," Jemma scolded, "surely people will be concerned with a small child, alone on the Metro at this hour. I have to have something plausible to tell them, wandering around waiting for a later train will cast undue suspicion and could possibly lead to someone summoning the authorities or thinking I've run away or both. What will we do should that happen?"

Trip stopped abruptly as Jemma took several more steps before he pulled her back and faced her. "Look, Jemma, that's not going to happen. We're gonna go get that skinny little dope and drag his sorry ass back home where it's more than likely Mrs. C is going open up a can of Whoop-Ass that'll have that little brainiac standin' for his meals until Frabjous Day! Woo-eee! I feel for the little guy already." Trip shook his head and flashed a smile.

Jemma tilted her head and stared at him for moment. "Don't be ridiculous, Trip. You know that isn't even a legitimate day. It's just a silly nonsensical word from Lewis Carroll's poem." She paused then continued. "Oh, poor Fitz…Do you really think Mama would…would turn him over her knee?" She was some where between sympathy, shock and total disbelief. Shaking her head she added slowly, "you really shouldn't use the term 'ass' Trip. It refers to a beast of burden not an actual body part."

Trip rolled his eyes and started walking again, pulling the little girl along with him. "Well, girl whatever you want to call ole Fitzie's sit-upon, there's a high probability he won't be sitting upon it for a good long time."

"Do you really think so, Trip?" Now she really sounded worried.

"Well, if it were me and my gram got hold of me," he squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth for a moment before continuing. "I'd spend long time thinkin' about my stupidity while waitin' for my backside to stop smoulderin'."

"I don't think Mama or Da will handle this situation in such a manner, Trip. I think they'd be more understanding?" Jemma reasoned.

"Girl, you saying my gram wouldn't understand? You think she'd just give me a lickin' and that'd be it? Course she'd understand and she'd be sure I did, too." He stopped as they reached the bus stop. "Mama C was pretty upset and Da…well, he's just holdin' it together for the rest of us. You're the genius. Picture a volcano that's just about to erupt and there ya have it, Jemma. The sh..poop is about the hit the fan and don't think this little trip we've planned won't go without…to use your words…repercussions, as well."

The little girl chewed her bottom lip for a moment and changed the subject. "How do you know he'll be there?"

"It's what I'd do, where I'd go. Hell, where else would that pint-sized smarty-pants brain go?" Trip shrugged his shoulders. "Anyway, the little bandit swiped my keys." He mumbled the last comment, almost to himself.

"You shouldn't say…" Jemma sighed

"Yeah, yeah…shouldn't say hell…shouldn't say ass…shouldn't say sh…I know, I know, but desperate times call for desperate measures, right?" He turned and looked down the street then glanced at his watch. The last bus into the city should have been there. He hoped they didn't miss it.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each pondering the ramifications of their decision to search for Fitz on their own. It was a risk they were both willing to take if it meant they could show up on the doorstep bright and early with their little brother in tow. Neither knew of the impending danger that they might be heading into and both realized they would have a high price to pay.

Jemma watched as the bus came to a stop in front of them and the door whooshed open. She stepped ahead of her brother and turned back. "Well, I'm just going to imagine that they'll be so happy to see all of us that nothing else will matter." She turned, dropped her fare into the box and continued into the vehicle.

Trip smiled and shook his head. "You do that, girl, you do that."

"What? Who's gone?" Phil set down the paper he was examining and took Skye from Melinda. "And why are you up, angel?" Skye's lip quivered again, fearing a second reprimand from her daddy. He quickly kissed her forehead and urged her head to his shoulder.

Melinda took what seemed like the hundredth deep breath in a very short amount of time. "The kids, Phil, the kids are gone." She said with urgency, swinging one hand toward the stairs.

Bobbie and Yoyo jumped to their feet. Yoyo made for the stairs as Bobbi pulled the back door open. Mack stood as well, ready for whatever needed to be done.

"Stop, just stop!" Phil ordered, halting everyone in their tracks. "Melinda…"

"Phil, I swear…if you ask me if I'm sure…I will not be responsible for what happens next." Her eyes were narrowed to nothing more than slits and she spoke through her teeth.

"I was going to ask if you knew how long they've been gone." He grimaced as he rocked his small daughter swaying side to side.

Melinda blew out a frustrated breath. "Sometime between ten minutes ago and the last time I walked up those damn stairs! I don't know how the hell long it's been. Maybe thirty minutes, maybe an hour. Damn it! I should have known." She slammed her fists into her thighs and began pacing.

"Mama sayed bad woerds." Skye whispered close to her daddy's ear. He placed a hand over her ear and shushed her, continuing to sway.

Yoyo stepped to her boss and put out her arms. "Ven conmigo, pequeña. Tienes que estar en tu cama y no escuchar todo esto. Ven, Elena te cantará la canción de cuna que mi abuela cantó cuando yo era muy pequeña." She wriggled her fingers and smiled.

Skye shook her head and tightened her grip on her daddy. Phil kissed her temple. "Be a good girl and go with Yoyo, angel." He kissed her again, ignoring her whine as the woman gathered her into her arms, already humming a soothing melody.

Yoyo spoke softly into the little girl's ear as she held her close to her heart. She nodded to Phil and then Melinda as she made her way to the stairs.

"Nessapeeno Salty," Skye fractured an attempt at Spanish.

Yoyo laughed silently and kissed the little girl's head as she started up the stairs. "Si, necesitas Salty. Conseguiremos tu viejo conejo."

Phil threw his arms up in the air, venting his anger in the absence of his youngest child. "Can this get any worse?" He yelled at no one in particular.

"We'll at least they didn't take Skye." Mack mumbled to himself.

"Give them time!" Phil growled. "They'll probably send a damn car for her!"

Bobbi covered her mouth to stifle a laugh, which she quickly turned into a false cough when Phil glared at her over furrowed brows. Before he could speak, everyone jumped at the frantic rap on the back door. She pulled it open revealing a frazzled Hunter standing a few feet back.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Phil barked. "What are you standing there for? Get in here!" He demanded.

Hunter held up his hands and shook his head. "You really don't want me in your house right now. Best you come out here." He shrugged and offered a half-smile.

Bobbi looked back at the others waiting for some sign then let out a breath and joined Hunter on the patio. The others filed out as well as Hunter moved back a few more feet.

"Knock it off, Hunter, now's not the time." Melinda growled, crossing her arms over her chest.

Bobbi stepped closer to her partner then quickly stepped back, waving a hand in front of her face. "God, Hunter what the…"

"Five days in the lowest part of town, looking for the lowest scum in existence leaves a bit of a stench, Bob." He smirked.

Mack stepped back as well, pulling a yuck face and covering his nose with his hand. "Maybe we otta hose him down."

"It's Radcliffe," Hunter blurted out without responding to Mack. "Radcliffe is in on this or behind it or has some kind of sticky hand in it."

"Radcliffe?" Phil wrinkled his brow. "How the hell…"

"Not clear on how they crossed paths, but somehow the two of them…Grant and Radcliffe are together."

"And you know this for sure," Melinda spoke with her usual ire toward the man.

"Yes, love, I do. Where do you think I've been all this time?" He smirked at her, although it was not the time for antagonizing.

"Looks like you've been rolling around in a dumpster," she shot back.

"That too, darlin'," he smiled. "But I managed to get this out of a guy that doesn't care for meatloaf but would sell his soul for some sticky sweet cereal." He pulled a small piece of crumpled paper from his pocket and tossed it to Bobbi.

She unfolded and glanced at it for a moment before passing it to Phil. "It's a license number."

Phil looked at it and held out his hand urging Hunter to fill them in on the rest.

"Got it from the Cereal Munk," he began and at their looks replied, "I'll explain later. Believe me you're going to want to bury this guy in Corn Pops. I called in a favor and had this traced." He pointed to the paper Phil had handed to Melinda. "Turns out it belongs to none other than Hayden Wallace Radcliffe who for some reason unknown to any chose to spend time in one of the greasiest pubs in the lower region of Alexandria just last Wednesday where he shared a pint or two with our friend James Grant." He finished with a sly smile.

Mack reached into his pocket and tossed Hunter a set of keys. He nodded toward the garage. "You need a shower…no you really need a shower, man."

Hunter's jaw dropped. "I bring you this and that's all I get."

"Go!" Bobbi agreed, stifling a gag. "Throw those clothes away…no better yet, burn them…everything. I'll bring you clean clothes after you've been in there at least an hour." She and the others started moving back into the kitchen.

"Sorry, man, but it's just too much…" Mack grimaced as he pulled the kitchen door closed.

"Where would they go?" Melinda spat as she and Phil cruised the neighborhood in their SUV. "You don't think they planned this do you?" She glanced across the seat at her husband.

"No…I think they're trying to help, Mel." Phil answered, keeping his eye on the road. "I don't think we'll find them like this. It's too dark and they could have gone anywhere although statistics show that most people who run away always go to the left. Can't say why."

Melinda stared at him for a beat before responding. "Really, Phil? Statistics? Now?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "What gave you the idea that Holt woman wasn't legit?"

"The files," she answered looking out into the darkness for any sign of his missing children. "She had four files. Jemma and Trip wouldn't have files, Phil. We've already established permanent guardianship of Jemma. Trip isn't anywhere on their radar. He never was, so why ask about either of them."

"You think she's in with Radcliffe and Grant?" He posed the question already knowing the answer.

"Don't you?" She fired back.

Radcliffe pulled open his front door ready to tear off the head of whoever was laying on the doorbell. He'd already decided he'd just punch the guy in the face and deal with it afterward. The guy turned out to be Abigail Holt who simply slipped in under his arm.

"You owe me, Radcliffe. You owe me big time!" She kicked off her high heels and pulled the pins from her hair allowing it to drop to her shoulders. She shook it out and flipped it with both hands, then unbuttoned the stiff tweed jacket, yanked it off her shoulders and dropped it behind her. "You can start by pouring me a double." She dropped into the nearest chair and propped her stocking feet onto the table in front of her. She made it a point to ignore the other occupant in the room.

Radcliffe stood for a moment, looked out into the darkness, closed the door and proceeded into the great room of his large home. He stood staring at the small woman who was now sprawled across the chair he had just vacated.

"What are you waiting for? Let's have that drink." She demanded, looking at him with wide questioning eyes.

"What happened?"

"Where's the boy?"

Both Radcliffe and Grant spoke at the same time.

The woman glared at both of them. "What happened is I don't have the boy, as both of you can plainly see." She sarcastically snarled back at them.

"Why not?" Again, they spoke together.

"Cute," she sneered.

Radcliffe moved to the bar and poured gin into a triangular shaped glass. He added a splash of vermouth and dropped in a green olive. "We gave you everything you needed. There was no reason to fail." He pointed out as he handed her the glass.

She took a sip then rested her head back on the chair and closed her eyes before speaking. "What I needed was for the kid to be there." She opened her eyes, picked up her head and raised her glass to the man. "He wasn't." She swallowed the drink and held out the glass for a refill, plucking the olive out before Radcliffe took it. She slipped it through a small 'O' shape in her lips and chewed slowly, watching as he mixed another.

"And the others?" Radcliffe inquired as he stirred the liquor.

"If they were there," she stood and walked to the bar, reaching for the glass. "I didn't see them or hear them." Again, she took a small sip after raising it toward the man. She turned and rested her elbows on the mahogany fixture.

Grant was also on his feet, tumbler in one hand, pointing an accusing finger with the other. "Look, you both guaranteed I'd have my boy tonight!" He dropped his hand pointing toward the floor. "Tonight, not tomorrow or the next day."

The woman was unaffected by Grant's tirade. "Yeah, well, like I said, the kid wasn't there."

"What do you mean, he wasn't there? Where was he?" Grant stomped a foot, demanding answers.

She laughed at his juvenile behavior. "How the hell should I know, they said he was at some kid thing."

"And you didn't ask where, didn't demand to see him immediately." Grant spit out the words.

"They aren't morons, they know their rights and the kid's rights. What did you want me to do? Anyway, I think they were on to me. Had no intention of letting me see any of those piss ants."

"Did you ask about the others…the black delinquent and the Asian whelp?" Radcliffe snarled.

"I did exactly what you told me to do." She sneered back. "I wasn't going to get anywhere near those kids."

Grant finished the drink in his hand and marched to the bar to pour another. Radcliffe stopped him, took the glass and did it himself. Grant might look polished in his clean clothes and neatly trimmed hair, but he was still garbage and Radcliffe would not have him touching his beloved bar. After all, he would have to burn the furniture the vulgar indigent had so much as touched.

Grant took the glass and spun back on the woman standing next to him. "I want my boy!"

Radcliffe stepped around the bar and spoke calmly. "And you'll have him Donald, just not as soon as we expected. We'll all have what we want as soon as Ms. Holt goes back to that house. They can't hide the children from the agency meant to protect them can they?"

"Wait just a damn minute," Holt stepped away from the bar and levied a finger at Radcliffe. "I told you those people were on to me. I am not going back there."

"YOU'LL DO AS I SAY!" Radcliffe roared, causing the woman and Grant to step back quickly. "And all of us will be rewarded." He finished in an icy calm tone.

"The bus!" Melinda exclaimed, breaking the silence she and Phil had shared for the past ten minutes.

Phil jumped and slammed on the breaks, throwing both of them forward and then back against the seat. He looked in all directions. "What bus?" His voice had a squeak he regretted.

"Skye said Jemma and Trip would bring Fitz home on the bus." Melinda told him.

Phil almost laughed. "Skye said? Melinda she's four-years-old, she says a lot of crazy things."

"She also repeats what she hears, even if we don't always understand it. Hell, Phil she's why we're out here looking. She's why Mack and Yoyo are canvassing the neighborhood like two cat burglars." While she and Phil had taken the car to search the main street, their agents were on foot searching side streets and alleys. "Phil we passed at least five bus stops. Even with an hour head start, they couldn't have gotten that far, especially in the dark. Trip knows his way around. Why wouldn't they take a bus?"

"Take a bus where, Mel? The last run was," he checked his watch, "forty-five minutes ago and it was probably on its way back to the hub."

"And from there they could transfer to the Metro and…"

"Be anywhere in the city by now…" Phil slammed his hand on the steering wheel. "How fast do you think we can get Mary Claire to stay with Skye?"

The crew once again gathered in the Coulson's kitchen, joined by a freshly washed Hunter who shared his tale of the mysterious Munk and how he'd gotten the info that lead to Radcliffe. Unfortunately, the word of a schizophrenic street person would mean nothing against a guy like Radcliffe and his fleet of fancy lawyers. He and Bobbi would situate themselves outside man's home and track his every move. If Grant showed up there…well, Hunter had wanted to plant his fist in the guy's face since the day he'd shown up in Sheffield. Unfortunately, Mack had beat him to it.

Mack and Yoyo were off to the Metro office hub. They'd wake up every driver on the roster if need be. Trip and Jemma would be a hard pair to miss and if they were on one of those buses, then one of those drivers had seen them. Mack intended to have answers before sunrise.

Calling the police was out of the question, not because of the implications it would bring to the impending adoptions but if Grant and Radcliffe knew Fitz was out on the street, alone…the boy would be in more danger than he was already. They couldn't take that chance. Phil had one card to play and he dreaded the thought of dealing with the man who was a thorn in his side. Melinda had said nothing about contacting him for help. She was no fonder of the jerk than her husband was, but the time had come. They couldn't continue alone.

"Damn it, Coulson, do you know what time it is?" Talbot barked into the phone.

"Ummm, about a quarter after twelve," Phil answered honestly.

"This better be good, Coulson!" The man's tone never changed. He always barked.

"I need your help, Glen," Phil spoke humbly. "My children are in trouble."

The line went quiet and for a moment Phil suspected the Colonel had disconnected the call. The reply was soft and unexpected.

"My office…twenty minutes," a soft click ended the conversation. Phil hung up his phone and turned to Melinda who nodded her understanding as the doorbell sounded.

They gave Sr. Mary Claire the shortest, safest version of the situation and assured her that the house was well guarded. Phil had called in a dozen of his best operators, who now surrounded his property and would patrol it until he relieved them. Other than the four who were actively searching the city for his missing children these where the people he trusted with not only his life but also the lives of his family.

"I am so sorry to make you come all this way when it so late, but I didn't know who else I could trust." Melinda apologized for the umpteenth time, taking the older woman's hands in her own.

"You know I would come in a heartbeat, dear. I am so glad that you did and I will stay as long as I am needed." Mary Claire assured her.

"You'll be escorted to St. Bartholomew's tomorrow. You're sure the pastor understands?" Phil needed his own reassurance as he strapped on his holster and unlocked the outside then inside door to his gun safe. He pulled out his service weapon and removed the child resistant lock then unlocked a third door in the rear of the safe and retrieved a box of ammunition. He pulled a clip from the box and jammed into the weapon then dropped two more into his pocket. Finally, he slipped the gun into its holster and relocked all three safe doors.

Sr. M. Claire watched in awe then turned to Melinda. "You don't use a revolver?"

Melinda shook her head. "Only when it's absolutely necessary," she smiled.

The nun looked back at Phil. "Don't worry about the pastor. Remember when I told you I had a cousin at that Parish? Well, Father McGowan is both…the pastor and the cousin." She laughed a tiny laugh and patted Phil's arm then took his hand and squeezed it hard. "You be careful, both of you," she grabbed Melinda's hand and squeezed just as hard. "My prayers and the Lord himself will be with you." She smiled but Melinda caught the tears brimming in her eyes. She wrapped the nun in a quick hug then stepped back and followed her husband to the door.

"You give our baby a hug and kiss from both of us and tell her we love her." She nodded as she pulled the door closed with a soft click.