A/N Okay, last episode for this season. What the hell can I do with this mess? Watch the scene breaks, I don't have the usual place-settings...


"No flashes at all?"

"That looks like an Intersect room."

"That's something you should hear from her."

"We'll do this the hard way."


Ellie sat in her car, staring at the burnt out wreck of a building, down the road and across the street. There was police tape blocking the road, and while she was willing to do a lot to resolve her many suspicions, she wasn't ready to cross that line. Jeff and Lester already had, those idiots, making it that much harder for her to get the truth she so desperately wanted.

That black-haired man knew her, and they knew that black-haired man, following him here for their own bizarre reasons. What else had they found out, before the situation had quite literally blown up in their faces? So many questions. Why would one of those Men in Black come here? Or five? Were they friends? Enemies? And if they had come here, was this place really the ruin that it seemed, or was this fire just another mask?

Could they be looking at her right now? Suddenly it occurred to her to look for cameras, but even though she didn't see any, what did that prove? Should she leave? Could she leave, without drawing the attention she was trying to avoid? If she abandoned this quest now, so early, would she ever have the courage to take it up again?

Suddenly she saw movement.


Sarah and Shaw walked with every appearance of blithe unconcern, but appearances were deceiving. "Why are we here, Shaw?" she demanded. "You promised me answers."

"And you'll have them, Agent Walker," said Shaw.

"Here?" asked Sarah. "Are you sure?"

"Just give me twenty seconds." He reached out and opened the door.


"Not much cover," said Chuck, looking at the satellite image of their target.

"No cover, dumbass," snarled Casey. He pulled on his mask, grey instead of black, to go with his urban camouflage suit. "Just run like hell and think 'rock' thoughts."

"You want me to think like I'm stoned?"

"Ha, ha, that's so funny, Bartowski," said Casey. Then he turned back and glared at Chuck. "Wait a minute. It really isn't." He turned to scan the terrain before them, in case it had sprouted Ring agents while he wasn't looking. Better to look twice, than to die once. "Let's go."


Morgan pulled in, putting the car in park. "You ready to do this?" he asked.

Devon sat there, staring at their destination. "I don't know, dude. It just seems so…final."

"That's because it is final," said Morgan. "You want me to do it? It won't be a problem. I'm not really feeling fear much yet, so I'm not gonna be embarrassed, or lazy."

"Really?" said Devon hopefully. "Can you stay like this forever?"

"I don't know," said Morgan. "Ask the guys who made the pill." He looked at his hands. "But if it is gonna wear off I hope it does soon. It wouldn't be fair to Alex."

"Yeah, that's true," said Devon. "You gotta treat the ladies in your life right, or they won't stay in your life very long." He took a breath, let it out. "Speaking of which, I have to do this. She's my wife, it's my responsibility."

"Okay," said Morgan with a nod. He popped his door. "Let's go."


Figures in grey crossed the ruined parking lot, went to the locked and blocked entrance to the burnt-out warehouse and disappeared inside with barely a moment's pause. Rings of glass and rust and dust circled the building, each as far as its mass would let it go. If Ellie noticed it, the arson investigators must have, and they would wonder what had happened inside, just as she did. Only the building's uncertain structural stability would be holding them back, giving those… men? They looked like men….giving those men a window of time to get inside and do whatever it was they planned to do.

Ellie popped her door, determined that the men in black, even if it was grey this time, would not get away with just doing 'something', in her life or anyone else's. She crossed the parking lot, wincing as her inappropriate shoes popped and crunched across the gravel and debris that was everywhere. The door wasn't really locked, it had been made to look that way to a casual passer-by, but she wasn't casual. She undid the mock-up and slipped between the tapes.

The dimness of the interior made her pull out her keys, with the little flashlight attached for seeing the keyhole in the dark. It wasn't meant for this but it was the best she had, and she clutched the keys tightly as she moved across the floor. She crept up to the ruined frame of a bent metal door, peeking around the edge into the next room.


The hostess tried, she really did, but neither Sarah nor Shaw was willing to be seated in front of the main window. They wanted, and got, a booth at the back, where they could each sit with their backs to a wall, and have a decent view of the room. Shaw asked her to bring two small glasses, and a pitcher of water. "Alright, Shaw, your twenty seconds start now," said Sarah.

"I met the Director of the Ring," said Shaw. "He was only a hologram."

"He didn't get to be the Ring's most senior operative by being right behind the door, where you wanted him to be," said Sarah, checking her watch.

"No, he didn't," said Shaw. "I saw him in a dark room, only enough light to see a small stand, and a flash drive."

"We have that," said Sarah. "Chuck's decoding the data on it now."

"I'll save him the trouble," said Shaw. "It has footage on it, a woman's death, in Paris. A single shot to the chest." He looked into Sarah's eyes. "The shooter was you." he gestured at her watch. "Are my twenty seconds up yet?"

A shadow fell over the table.


Chuck and Casey put on their NVGs once they were within the building, rather than risk a light. None of the blown-out windows had been on ground level, but why take chances. The door opened on a front office of some kind, maybe a waiting room. Hard to say, when the building had been stripped. Nothing showed up in their goggles. If anyone had come through here they hadn't lingered long enough to leave a heat signature. "Cover my six," said Casey, leading the way into the next part of the building.

The next room was a cavernous empty space, much as Chuck remembered, except for the place where the soda machine had been. "I doubt they went that way," he said. "It looks like it's caved in."

"Normally I'd say that was a good thing," said Casey. It would keep the locals out of their business. "But I can't see Walker and Shaw coming this way for their little meeting of the minds."

"Looks like Shaw got clever," said Chuck.

Had to happen sometime, Casey grunted, because he couldn't be bothered to say it. The best way to make sure nothing he said would get back to Shaw was by never saying it. Especially if it was complimentary.

Something made a noise, an echo in the darkness. The two spies raised their eyes to scan the surroundings, Casey's hand flicking out to signal Chuck to go elsewhere. They split up and headed back toward the entrance, alert for intruders, although in a building in this condition it could have been anything.

At the door, Casey tapped the twisted frame, and Chuck nodded, silently indicating that he saw it too, a place where the metal appeared a little warmer than anywhere else. Someone touching it, maybe? They did a quick check behind them, but saw nothing. More likely whoever stood here, if anyone had stood there at all, had turned and left. Casey drew his sidearm and led the way out.


Devon led the way into the restaurant, asking to see the manager, while Morgan looked around appreciatively. This was the sort of life he'd envisioned for himself, once upon a time, only now he saw it as a manager rather than as a chef, who would only have seen the kitchen anyway. Hey, maybe I should go home and try flipping the shrimp now!

He breathed out slowly, letting the ghost of that dream ride it out. He was a part of a different team now. Or was he? They hadn't made it official, or anything, even though they'd brought him in on a couple of spy-ish things. He was a good assistant manager, he'd be a good second-in-command, or whatever, more like last-in-command, but you gotta start somewhere.

And he had some serious spy skills, not like flipping some shrimp. He was very observant, for example what was Sarah doing here? Pre-laudanol Morgan would have just walked right up to her and asked, but the drug didn't seem to have changed him in that area, so post-laudanol Morgan did too. His shadow fell over their table and they looked up, startled. "Hey, Sarah. Mister Shaw."

"Mister Grimes," said Shaw.

"What are you doing here, Morgan?"

"An earlier version of me helped talk Ellie into going to Africa, it was this whole thing, don't ask, but now she's not going, so Devon and I are going around cancelling all the stuff we had planned, like the party." He spread his arms. "What are you guys doing here? It doesn't look like dinner."

"Reminiscing," said Shaw.

"Privately," said Sarah, hoping this version of Morgan was better at taking hints that the old one.

"Well, my excellent peripheral vision tells me that Devon has just come out of the manager's office, so I'll be on my way," said Morgan, backing away from their table. "Have a nice night."


Casey and Chuck pulled off their masks, sitting in front of the van's sensor equipment to check for any signals, any alerts to their presence here. "How could they not be here?" asked Chuck. He waved at his monitor. "This is the broadcast point. There's the signal."

"A locator is only any damn good if it's on the person you're trying to locate," snarled Casey.

Chuck tapped the panel, and the screen blanked. "Great. So now what do we do?"

"Well, the way I see it, we have two options," said Casey. "We can call my friend, Colonel Sanders…"

Chuck opened his mouth.

"Shut it!"

Chuck closed his mouth.

"He's got, air, armor, tactical…" Casey started to smile. "Everything we could possibly want to reacquire Agent Walker."

"I'd rather have you than a tank," said Chuck.

Smile almost completely gone. "Even I don't have that much firepower," said Casey. "And even if I did, it doesn't matter. Without proper intelligence–"

Chuck's phone started to ring. He glanced at the screen and put it on speaker. "What is it, Morgan? We're kind of in the middle of something…"

"It is something spy-ish?" asked Morgan. "'Cause you're not gonna believe who I just saw, or who I just saw her with…"


"Reminiscing?" asked Sarah, as Morgan walked away.

A server came to their table with the two small glasses Shaw had asked for. When he was gone, Daniel took the salt seller and shook some salt into each glass, pouring in a small amount of water from his glass. "You were upset with me not too long ago, for putting Chuck through what appeared to be a Red Test," he said as he did. "At the time, it didn't occur to me to wonder how you recognized it so easily, but having seen that footage, it jumps right out at me." He picked up the glasses, setting one of them in front of her and the other in front of himself. "That was your Red Test, wasn't it? The one that everyone talks about."

Sarah nodded, staring into the glass. "The worst night of my life."

He nodded. "Mine too."

No, he wasn't mocking her, unless it was very subtly and he wasn't a particularly subtle man. How could her one shot have destroyed three lives? "What does that mean?"

Shaw pulled out the packet that he always kept near his heart, spilling the rings on the table. "Her name was Evelyn Shaw."

I killed his wife? "I…never knew her name," said Sarah.

"I know," said Shaw. Names and places, that was the protocol. Shaw picked up his glass, holding it out to her. She lifted her glass as well, waiting. "Tears," he said. "For sorrow." He drank half of the water in his glass.

Sarah drank the same amount from hers. For salted water it was strangely bitter. She cleared her throat, staring at their hands, holding the glasses above the table. "Why are we here, Shaw?"

Shaw swirled his glass, watching the water inside it spin. "My wife's death at your hands was a tragedy of the highest order, and I know you know that. Honestly, I can't see myself continuing to serve an organization that would order such a thing, but I have one last mission to perform, and I'm hoping you'll help me. I want to take this fight to the Ring directly, punish them for daring to use this event to manipulate me, us." He raised his glass. "This isn't for the CIA, this is for us. Help me make her death count for something good."

The worst night of her life. Not tonight. Sarah raised her glass. "If I can, I will."

"Tears," said Shaw, touching his glass to hers. "For memory."


Ellie stood from behind a pile of rubble, afraid that they had somehow seen her and were, what, lying in wait? No, that was silly. If they'd known she was there they would have come for her. That logic got her to the door, from the inner door to the outer door. She looked to see the smallest corner of her own car, so very far away.

Movement. A black van, driving away at high speed. They were gone, she knew that in her bones, and she fled the scene as quickly as she could make her trembling legs walk.

Safe in car, safe in the anonymity of traffic, the flow of the world outside her vehicle helped her calm down. The hypnotism of the road. Go this fast, turn here, buy this. She'd always thought the alien conspiracy behind They Live was ridiculous, but she'd seen those men, standing by that hole in the ground.

She'd heard them talk, not words but tones. Disappointment, satisfaction. The one spoke with such…resolve, and the other grunted his agreement, right before she'd somehow stumbled over...something.

Her eyes widened. Wait a minute…


A/N2 Please drop me a line and tell me what you think of this rewrite so far.