"Tristin?" Rory poked her head into the bedroom where Tristin had been pacing for the last fifteen minutes. "What's up?"

Tristin looked up, his concentration broken. His jaw clenched and unclenched. His hair was standing up in messy spikes. He looked like hell. "There's a slight problem."

"Problem?" she repeated dumbly. What else could possibly have happened?

"Joey Mendoza has disappeared. I had some agents try to bring him in, but he was long gone. There was no possible way he could have known we were about to arrest him."

"Couldn't he have seen it on the news?"

"No, this all went down before the news even aired."

"Maybe he's just very cautious."

"Possibly..."

"There's a 'but' in there somewhere."

"But I think it's slightly more serious than that."

"Okay, stop being so cryptic. What the hell is going on?"

"I think there's a leak in the police department."

"On what do you base that? The fact that a drug dealer who just murdered a guy suddenly decided to split town? Excellent deductive skills, Agent."

"There's more. There's evidence missing."

"WHAT!"

"Your camera and camcorder have been stolen. Right now, the only proof that Joey Mendoza was even there last night is your word."

As the full weight of his words sunk into Rory's mind, the color drained from her face. "I'm your whole case?"

"In a word, yes."

Rory sank down onto the bed, shoulders slumped in defeat. "So if something should happen to me..."

"...Then we can't prove a thing," Tristin finished. "Joey Mendoza goes free and whoever he's working for continues his drug ring."

Rory let that sink in for a moment. Then she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin stubbornly. "Then I guess we'll just have to make sure you get me to the trial in one piece."

"You can count on it."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Then Tristin cleared his throat. "Well," he said looking at his watch, "it's either extremely early or extremely late. I'd say it's about time you got some rest."

"I slept in the car," she pointed out.

Tristin gave her a look.

"I guess I could stand for a few more hours. Aren't you going to sleep?"

"No, I'm going to work on the case for a while."

"I'll stay up with you."

He pointed to the bed. "To bed."

***

The sun was just beginning to rise and Tristin had yet to get some rest. This case just didn't make sense. Who was the leak in the police department? Obviously Mendoza had bribed or had dirt on someone, but who? Who was the man that was murdered? How did he fit into all of this? Why did the man give Mendoza money? Was it a pay off for something? And who had emailed Rory? Why was she involved?

Tristin suspected that the murdered man was the one who had emailed Rory. But the million dollar question...why? He pounded his fist on the open case file lying on the table. He unconsciously rubbed the back of his neck and rotated his neck in half circles, trying to get the kinks out. Then he stood and stretched. He would look over the case file one more time, then go to sleep. He settled back into his chair and began reading.

***

Rory stared at the sun rising above the trees. The light made the air seem to shimmer. The sky was bright with the promise of a new day. The world seemed fresh and optimistic. But Rory was filled with dread. Drug dealers were probably hunting her down as she sat there, marveling over the beauty of the world. She decided to give up on sleep. How could she possibly lay down and close her eyes when, for all intents and purposes, she had a bulls eye painted on her forehead? She rose from the bed, a blanket over her shoulders, and made her way to the main area of the cabin. There she saw Tristin, fast asleep atop a stack of papers.

With all that was happening, Rory hadn't even thought about what his reentrance into her life meant. She hadn't seen him since high school graduation. Even back then, their relationship had been strained. Their friendship had never fully mended after the incident at the end of sophomore year. Though Rory had regretted her actions and wanted to tell him, she could never bring herself to say the words.

After that year, Tristin had distanced himself from her. She knew that he had wound up at Yale, but how had he ended up in the FBI? What made him go into such a dangerous profession? Funny how things work out. Never in her life had she ever thought that she would be a prime witness in a murder, and that she would have to be protected by the guy that had made her first year at Chilton a living hell.

But we've grown up, Rory reminded herself. Give him a chance. He is the one that is making sure I don't die for a very long time.

With those thoughts fresh in her mind, Rory slipped the blanket from her shoulders and instead covered Tristin. He murmured unintelligibly, before sinking back into sleep, snoring softly. Rory went back into the bedroom and sprawled on the bed. She laid there for a few minutes, still unable to sleep. She got back up and retrieved her laptop from her bag. She began typing furiously, fingers flying over the keys. An hour later, she was finally ready to sleep.

***

"Any clues as to their whereabouts?"

"I was able to track them out of Philadelphia. Our guy planted a bug on their car. They took the interstate, heading north."

"Do you have a definite location?"

"Not yet, but it's only a matter of time."

***

Tristin awoke when the sun was high in the sky. He immediately cursed himself for falling asleep in the most uncomfortable position known to man. As he stood up, a blanket dropped from his shoulders to the floor and puddled at his feet. He picked it up and allowed a small smile to crack through his normally expressionless face. Rory...

He padded quietly to the door of the bedroom. He cracked it open the tiniest bit, enough to reveal Rory sleeping peacefully. Her laptop was plugged into an outlet in the wall and whatever she had been typing was still on the screen. It was an article for the paper. "UNIDENTIFIED MALE EXECUTED IN COLD BLOOD" stated the headline. Tristin skimmed through the article. It was amazing. She really was the best. He'd always known she would achieve her dream of becoming a journalist.

Rory stirred. She awoke to see Tristin standing by the side of the bed, staring at her curiously. "What time is it?"

Tristin shrugged. "Some time in the afternoon, I'm guessing."

Rory groaned. "I feel...like hell."

"You look like it too."

"Hardy har har. We all can't look like James Bond twenty four hours a day, G-man. By the way, love the outfit."

Tristin looked down at his clothes. His Armani suit was wrinkled horribly. His shirt was untucked and sat slightly askew on his shoulders.

"If only you could see the hair."

"Right back at ya."

"So did you come up with anything?"

The mood suddenly darkened, as both were once again made aware of the reality of the situation. "There's a lot of unanswered questions. I think we'll know more once the results from the medical examiner come in."

"So what happens now?"

"There's a warrant out for Mendoza's arrest. Once found, he'll be charged with murder and the trial will begin. But until then..."

"I'm a sitting duck," said Rory glumly.

"We're doing everything we can to track him down," Tristin reassured her. "We've got our best agents on the case. The FBI always gets its man."

"I hope so."

***

"So, Tristin Dugrey, where the hell have you been the past ten years?"

"It's a long story."

"You're in luck. I've got lots of time."

***

"So that's how I ended up at the Academy."

"Wow," Rory breathed. "You're like Superman. I'm impressed."

"Well, you're not off the hook yet. What have you been up to? I haven't seen you since graduation."

"I've been here and there," she answered.

"Way to be vague."

"It's really not that exciting."

"I tell you mine, you tell me yours. It's only fair."

"Oh, alright..."

***

"We've tracked them to New York. We're pinpointing an exact location now."

"Excellent. Who can take care of this problem?"

"I want to do it. My ass is the on the line."

"Very well, Mr. Mendoza. Just try not to have any witnesses this time."

***

That night, Rory and Tristin were getting along better than they ever had in their lives. There was something about life and death situations that just had a way of bonding people together. They were in the middle of a heated game of Spit when both suddenly stopped short and looked up in alarm. A car was driving up the road to the cabin. It's headlights could be seen from the window.

Tristin immediately pulled his gun and gestured for Rory to get down. He crouched behind the table and clicked off the safety. His ringing cell phone made both jump ten feet in the air. He hurriedly whipped the phone out of his pocket and answered it. "Dugrey."

"Agent Dugrey, this is Agent Speas. The Assistant Director sent us as back up. We're outside the cabin now."

Tristin immediately recognized the voice of his colleague. "Yeah, we're in here."
He walked over to the window and watched as four or five fellow agents began unloading equipment from the Ford Taurus they had driven up.

"I'm assuming they're friends of yours." Rory came to stand next to Tristin at the window.

He nodded. "The cavalry has arrived."