When I get to the safehouse it's still empty, but I assume that my team shouldn't take long to get here. There are several empty beer bottles displayed in a neat row on top of the kitchen counter, a few more than when I left the previous night. But other than that, nothing is really out of place, so it's good to know that at least while I was gone, there weren't any chairs flying through the air.

My knapsack - which I was supposed to take with me to the hotel - is still on the bed, although it no longer has the company of my friends'. I grab it and go to the bathroom. The hot shower and fresh clothes do wonders to improve my mood. While I still feel remnants of the tension caused by my latest difference of opinion with Delphine, I don't feel completely overwhelmed. With my problems with Delphine placed on the back burner at least for the time being, I feel refreshed.

I'm looking out the window with a mug of the closest thing to coffee I could find warming my hands - which in this case is black tea - when I see the three of them approaching the building: Ms. S leading with Sarah and Felix close behind. Even from the third floor I can see their closed expressions. I don't move from where I am when I hear their steps on the stairs or when the door unlocks.

"Good morning," I say from my position, attempting a smile. If there's a time to leave our differences at the door, this would be it. However neither of them answer me and in return, I only receive scowling looks which I do my best to ignore.

"We've been fired," Ms. S says without preamble as she sheds her coat.

"By the Websters?" I ask, confused.

"By Mr. Y," Siobhan clarifies. "He says our services will no longer be required."

"That's super suspicious…" I comment, stepping away from the window.

"No shit, Sherlock!" Are Sarah's first words to me. It seems that the night apart did very little to take the edge off Sarah's disposition.

"What exactly did he say?" I look directly at Siobhan, hopeful that if I don't give Sarah the confrontation she wants, she'll let it go.

"Exactly that," S answers, raising her shoulders. "No justification, no nothing. All I know is that the money is in the bank account."

"All of it?" I ask, and this time I cross sight with everyone and they all nod their heads.

"What was agreed to be paid at the end of our assignment, yes!" Siobhan confirms.

"That makes no sense," I think aloud.

"It does if you think that our job was to provide some sort of distraction," Sarah ventures, more inclined to participate in the discussion after noticing that I'm not going to take her bait. Or perhaps it dawns on her that there are more important matters to tackle in this precise moment.

I shake my head. "Distraction from what?"

"Or from whom?" Siobhan intervenes. "If all eyes were on us, it'd be easier for other players to come into the game and do whatever it is they wanted."

"Which is what? Kill Daniel?" Felix doesn't seem any less confused than me.

Siobhan tightens her lips. "I don't think so, maybe getting rid of Webster was just taking care of loose ends. Maybe he knew too much."

Sarah snorts. "I sincerely doubt he knew the bare minimum, let alone too much."

"I don't know… Maybe he did have important information and just never realized how powerful it was or how much damage it could cause," I say.

"A patsy," Felix suggests.

"Perhaps," I nod. "But if he did, the Feds are still in the dark about it. They couldn't find anything in his personal computer."

"I guess a night spent with the FBI wasn't entirely unproductive," Sarah comments as she moves to the couch, a glint of anger in her eyes.

I look at her dead in the eye. "It certainly is more productive than getting into a fist fight over nothing!"

Sarah gives me her best death stare. "Over nothing?!"

"ENOUGH!" Siobhan's voice raises well over her normal tone, her eyes darting between Sarah and me. "This is not the time for that," she adds in a lower voice.

"No, this is the time for us to split," Felix says, raising both his hands. "We have nothing left to do here, and even if we did, this shit's getting too hot."

The conversation is interrupted by my phone vibrating on the bed. I feel all eyes on me as I go to it and reject Delphine's call and drop it back onto the mattress unceremoniously.

"We can't leave," Siobhan says, her eyes still on me for a second longer before she continues to address everyone. "There's an active investigation and all of you are persons of interest. What we need to do is lay low and wait for the heat to go down, then we can start thinking about leaving."

My phone goes off again and when I pick it up with the intention of rejecting the call again and turning it off, I realize it's a text message with one simple word: RUN!

I feel my blood freeze in my veins and my heart's beating accelerates rapidly. Still with the phone in my hand, I rush to the window that faces the street but see nothing other than random pedestrians.

"What?" Sarah asks, still in a combative voice, but she must've noticed my sudden alarm because she gets up from the couch and joins me at the window. Without a word, I hand her over my phone and quickly go to the bathroom, where my hands move fast to stuff all that I left there in the duffle bag.

"Fuck!" I hear Sarah's voice loud, followed by shuffling of feet on the carpeted floor.

I return just in time to see Siobhan unplug the small modem that gives us remote access to the cameras' feed and shove it inside her purse. Other than our biological materials and fingerprints which are not in any database, there's nothing else they can use to trace us. These small safehouses are arranged to provide us with a quick escape.

Sarah's waiting by the door and once I get there, she hands me back the phone. None of us say anything as we go up the stairs - we all know the escape plan, Siobhan had us memorize them for all our safehouses. Once we reach the top of the stairs, Sarah puts her shoulder to the door that opens to the rooftop and the weak lock gives in easily enough. The moment we're all outside, Sarah slides a piece of metal under the door to give us some more time.

We lurch over the small wall that separates the building we're on from the one to the west, and we still have two more to go to reach the last one of the block where we plan to use the fire escape down to the street. Sarah takes point, with Siobhan right behind her, followed by Felix. I'm the last of the group, constantly looking over my shoulder, my ears picking up every little sound, but all I hear is our footsteps and accelerated breathing. I start to wonder if the message was in fact as urgent as Delphine made it sound.

That thought is quickly quashed when Sarah reaches the fire escape that will lead us to freedom and stops on her tracks, taking several steps back and motions for us to be quiet with her index finger pressed to her lips. A quick peek over the edge of the roof reveals what she meant: a SWAT van is parked on the side street as well as two more SUVs. There's no sign of the SWAT team but two men with FBI vests have stayed behind, presumably to guard the vehicles.

I look back and in the distance I can see that the door we came through is still securely shut, but I know it won't stay like that for long. As soon as they get into the apartment they'll notice traces that we've been there recently and realize we had no other way to go but up.

"What now?" Felix asks in a whisper. "We're sitting ducks up here."

"The backdoor of the liquor store on that building," Siobhan says, her finger aiming at the building we just passed. It's far from ideal, once we get to the street we'll still have to cross half a block before we can reach an intersection and get out of view. But no one argues with the suggestion, S knows better than anyone the map of the area and it's not like any of us can think of a better solution.

So we hurry back the way we came, but the door that gives us access to the stairs is not cooperating. The lock seems to be secure in place and not tempered with, as we've done to our building's. Only Sarah and Felix's joined efforts with their feet flat against the door breaks the lock, but we're not being subtle here. The noise may very well attract our pursuers to the roof and the wide open door will light up the path we took for them.

There's no time to waste going down the stairs all the way to the basement as we stop in front of the door to the store's warehouse. There's no breaking down this one, but that doesn't mean we're trapped. Sarah goes to her knees and gets the small black leather pouch she always carries with her with her b&e kit. We're all quiet and let her work. It must have taken all but two minutes for her to unlock the door, but it feels like an eternity. The team after us is no longer worried about being silent to catch us unexpectedly, their boots seem to be all around us - complete with the shouting of "CLEAR" as they comb through the areas we could use to hide.

Still making as little noise as possible, we get inside the storage room and use a couple of boxes filled with bottles of banana liqueur to bar the door from the inside. Even if they'll do very little to prevent them from entering, the sound of glass shattering will, at the very least, warn us when they get in to bust our asses.

I believe our luck is changing when we finally have a line of sight to the door that will grant us freedom, which is only held in place by a latch on the inside. Sarah flips it open, but when she tries to smoothly slide the door open, it won't budge. I get close to give her a hand but it's still a struggle to make it move, and when it finally does the sound of screeching metal as we force the rusty wheels to roll on the tracks is terribly loud. As soon as the gap is wide enough, Sarah takes a look outside and gives us a thumbs up and we squeeze through the narrow space. We don't bother closing the door after we get out, the noise it'll make will only attract further attention, not to mention taking time we simply don't have to spare.

We don't sprint, but we still run, going down the street west bound in the opposite direction we know the vehicles are parked. We're already rounding a corner into a narrow intersection when we hear the bottles of booze sacrificing themselves to aid our escape. But we know we're not out of the woods yet - soon enough they'll set a perimeter and we need to get a move on if we are to beat it.

The urgency of the situation makes us resort to methods we would never use otherwise, like stealing a car right in the heat of a pursuit. But even Siobhan knows that our options are limited. In fact, she's the one who removes the scarf she has around her neck and rolls it over her elbow, strucking hard against the driver's window of an old white Honda. She opens the door and wipes the pieces of glass from the worn out leather seat to the ground and gets behind the wheel, stretching to the passenger side to unlock that door as well. As we take our seats, Siobhan quickly works on the wires before the motor jumps to life and we're on our way. To where, I have no idea, and it never occurs to me to ask. What matters now is to get as far away from here as possible.

Since I've joined the group, I've never had the pleasure of watching Siobhan work, but I've always assumed she was good at it. She had to if she survived years in this trade and was never caught. She's poised as she gets us out of the heat, doesn't drive too fast, respects the traffic signs without being overzealous, maneuvers the car with ease, following the jam-packed traffic of a workday morning. I don't see anyone following us the few times I look back, but even if they were there, discreetly behind us not to attract our attention, I'm sure S lost them in the early morning rush.

We've been driving around for almost an hour when she finally parks the car in a deserted alleyway, almost across town from where we started. The inside of the car is freezing, the broken window letting the morning mist in and all of our heat out, but no one makes a move to get out. Instead we take the opportunity to catch our breaths.

"How did they know where to find us?" I break the silence to ask the obvious question.

"I don't know about you, but my money is on the Fed who was inside our safehouse only hours ago," Felix says from the backseat next to me.

"Yeah… and then decided to warn us to get the hell out of there…" I respond sarcastically, turning to the side to face him.

"No, Cosima's right. It doesn't make sense." Not even Sarah can get on board with that theory. After all, she's stubborn, not stupid .

"That doesn't mean Delphine wasn't the one who inadvertently led them to us," Siobhan muses.

"Then why wait 'till this morning to come get us?" I ask.

"Maybe they don't want to burn her," Siobhan suggests, turning back on her seat to look at me.

I shake my head. "No. Why would they care? If they knew she was meeting us without their knowledge then they'd want to take her in as well. And if they caught her in the act, even better," I reason. "Besides, if they were even the slightest suspicious of her, she'd never knew they were coming and she wouldn't have the opportunity to warn us. No, there's gotta be another explanation," I conclude.

"Am I the only one who thinks it's an incredible coincidence that the Feds found us exactly the same day that this mysterious Mr. Y has dismissed our services?" Sarah says. Her target has moved from Delphine and found a new mark, at least for now.

Siobhan nods her head slowly. "If our presence was to merely provide a distraction, then we're loose ends that need to be taken care of. "

"Does that mean we've been Daniel'd?" Felix asks drolly.

"It means we need to get out of the street!" Ms. S says pointedly, reaching for her purse and taking out the phone. Her voice is low and calm, whoever she is on the line with can't even begin to fathom how close we were to getting caught only an hour ago. Twenty minutes later we see a van - which I recognize as the one who drove us to the Websters' property when we first arrived - pulling up next to our car.

"All set?" Siobhan asks the driver when he steps out of the van.

"We're good," the man, who is the same driver, answers with a short nod.

We follow Siobhan without a word out of the car and into the van. "Make that disappear, yes?" She says out the window, her chin aimed to the white Honda.

"Consider it done," he assures her, taking the seat behind the wheel and reconnecting the hot wire.

"Where are we going?" I ask when we're back on the road.

"New York," Siobhan answers without taking her eyes off the road. "We're getting the passports we have there to cross the border to Canada. The States are too hot for us now."

"Thank you!" Felix throws his hands up after hearing Siobhan say what he's been defending all along.

"Great! They have us on the run, which is exactly what they want," Sarah comments, none too pleased.

"What do you suggest then?" Siobhan momentarily looks at Sarah who's sitting next to her.

"Go back to the Websters' and see what we can find," Sarah says with determination.

"Cosima says they found nothing in his computer," Felix reminds her, firmly set to go on with his original plan.

"The computer they found was clean," I counter. "I believe Daniel had another computer that he kept out of sight for his more… unofficial business."

"So what do you propose? That we break into the Websters' property in search of a computer Cosima has a hunch exists?" Felix is shaking his head continuously, trying to make his point to Sarah, believing she's more willing to hear him out. But Sarah has made up her mind, and a small smile crosses her face. If there's something to be said about her, it's that she's not the kind to turn her back on a good challenge.

"Well… if there's anyone who can get into the compound undetected, Sarah is," I say, knowing that a little ego stroke will go a long way. "She's the one who set up the entire security system."

"Please, don't encourage her!" Felix says annoyed, sensing that he's about to lose this fight.

"And what do we care about some computer with details of Daniel's deals with the Russian mob?"

"Because this can all be connected," Siobhan says in a small voice. "And because this could be our last chance to clear our names so we don't spend the rest of our lives on the run."

Felix leans back on his seat, knowing that he represents the minority of one. "Fuck!"