August 1, 1939

The day started out like any other. Jen woke up in Nick's arms and kissed him before getting out of bed to get a start on fixing her hair. He got up and got dressed and made the bed and went out to the kitchen to make breakfast. She came to the kitchen ready for the day and they chatted and perused the newspaper together as they ate. Nothing out of the ordinary.

At ten, they made their way downstairs to open up the shop. They had some regular customers now after almost six months. For not the first time in recent days, Jen wondered what would happen to the shop when she and Nick were rescued from their undercover operation. Where would Mr. Razinsky go to get the dishtowels he purchased every week? Would Mrs. Myers be upset that the extra large bags of flour they stocked just for her and the bakery down the block wouldn't be readily accessible?

For all that Jen disliked being Trish Claybourne and sidling up to criminals in the backroom every few days, she did like running the shop with Nick. They'd created something of a community here in Bushwick. They belonged. And she would miss it. It had been a long time since Jen felt like she really belonged somewhere.

Suddenly, as though someone was reading her mind, men in suits burst into the shop with guns drawn. "FBI, don't move!" they shouted. "Hands up!"

There had been no warning for this. Supomo had said the operation would be over soon, but Jen really had thought they'd get a heads up. Apparently not.

She looked over to where Nick was coming out of the stockroom with his hands in the air in surrender. Two of the agents hurried over to where he stood. Jen was watching them and didn't notice another agent come to where she stood behind the counter with her hands up.

The agent grabbed her right hand and yanked it back behind her, tightly closing the handcuffs around her wrist. It was unexpected more than anything else and took her by surprise, but Jen yelped in pain.

"Hey! Get your goddamn hands off her!" Nick shouted. Well, Wesley shouted. Nick knew Jen could take care of herself. But Wesley Claybourne would not allow his wife to get manhandled.

"I'm fine, Wes," Jen called out to him, playing her role as dutiful wife calming her hotheaded husband.

"Trish and Wesley Claybourne, you are under arrest for facilitating illegal acts, criminal aiding and abetting, and racketeering," one of the FBI agents said.

Jen nearly rolled her eyes. Even if they were really being arrested, the racketeering charge was a little over the top. But still, she had a part to play. Couldn't let any witnesses see her taking this too well. "You've got nothing on us," she insisted, adding a bit of a snarl to her voice for good measure.

The agents ignored her protests and Nick's, for he was doing the same thing as they dragged him out through the front door behind Jen. But they fake Claybournes kept it up as they were put in separate cars and driven away.

She went quiet in the car. One of the agents uncuffed her once they'd left the neighborhood, which she appreciated. Jen absentmindedly rubbed her wrists as she watched Brooklyn pass by. They crossed the Manhattan Bridge, and Jennifer felt something come over her. It was all over. Jen would never have to step foot in Brooklyn ever again. She could go home to Harlem and see Bernice and Josh. She could sleep in her own bed all by herself and have her beloved cat, Jerry, back in her arms. There would be a short period of debrief, she knew, where the FBI would tie up the loose ends and set her up to return to her ordinary life. And she absolutely couldn't wait.

Before she knew it, the car had parked at Federal Plaza. The same place this whole journey had started for Jen all those months ago after Al Supomo mysteriously showed up in her little office offering her this opportunity. And as much of a pain as it was and how dangerous or upsetting it had been at times, it was still one of the best experiences Jen had ever had. She didn't have a single regret about it. How could she? Her skills were better than ever, and more than that, she'd gotten Nick out of the deal.

Jen walked with the agents into the building and smiled to herself.

Soon enough, she found herself in an interview room, seated alone at a simple wood table in a simple wood chair. And that was where she was left for a rather impolite amount of time.

The door finally opened and Special Agent Al Supomo walked in. "Welcome back, Miss Mapplethorpe."

"Glad to be back on Manhattan soil," Jen quipped in response.

Supomo took a seat at the other side of the table, putting the file folder he carried down before reaching his hand out to her. "I wanna thank you for service to your country, Miss Mapplethorpe. This operation was a huge success, and that was down to you and Buchanan doing such a good job. The FBI is in your debt."

Something clicked in Jen's mind. "Is that so?"

He laughed, "It's a figure of speech, but sure, you want something?"

A slow smile spread over her face. "Actually I do."

Supomo regarded her curiously. Amused. "Alright, lay it on me."

August 3, 1939

"Where the hell have you been?" Nick snapped.

"Cool it," Supomo answered. "I've got more to deal with than just you, Buchanan."

"You debriefed me the afternoon we got arrested in Bushwick. I've been cooped up in this damn hotel room since then!"

Nick knew he was getting too upset, and it wasn't like him. But he'd been prisoner in this piece of garbage Lower East Side hotel room for two whole days. Even when they were undercover, the FBI hadn't pulled this kind of smoke and mirrors bullshit.

Though, of course, it wasn't just being stuck in the hotel room that was bothering him. He had wanted to talk to Supomo before this so they could discuss Nick's plans. And he wanted to get out of here so he could go see Jen and discuss Nick's other plans. The longer it took to deal with the FBI, the longer it would be until Nick could see Jennifer again.

"We had to tie some things up before I was gonna talk to you, Buchanan. I'm here now. Why don't you tell me what you want, and then I'll tell you what I want," Supomo said.

Nick wasn't quite sure what Supomo was up to. Since when had the FBI cared about what Nick Buchanan wanted. "Alright," Nick said warily. "I've had an idea. A proposition."

"I'm listening," Supomo said with uncharacteristic patience.

"You still looking for someone to flip Abe Reles?"

Supomo smiled. "Hey whaddaya know, great minds think alike."

"What do you mean?" Nick asked him, frowning.

"Do you want to offer yourself to go back undercover in Brooklyn and go to Brownsville to flip Kid Twist?"

"Yes," Nick admitted.

Supomo nodded. "That's what we were workin' out. We wanted to ask you the same thing."

Now that certainly took Nick by surprise. He knew why he would be good to be the one to go after Reles. He knew he was uniquely situated to be able to relate to the mobster who murdered the Shapiro Brothers, and he knew he was uniquely qualified to exact revenge on behalf of the boys who were Nick's own brothers. To get Abe Reles to be a government witness would take down the mob in a way the FBI could only dream, and to make Reles betray his past and the people who had turned him into a killing machine would be the icing on the cake.

"You'll be going back as Wesley Claybourne. By yourself."

"What do you mean?" Nick hadn't thought much about what his cover would be. He was mostly focused on trying to convince the FBI to let him be the one to take on Reles. He figured they'd figure out how to go about getting him in. Apparently they had.

"Miss Mapplethorpe has made certain requests, so she's not going back undercover with you. You'll stay here for another two weeks and then we'll put you in an apartment in Brownsville. The story is, you and your wife got arrested and the charges were dropped after the cops couldn't get anything to stick and you and your wife wouldn't squeal on each other. But after you got out, she left you. So that's why you're in Brownsville without her," Supomo explained.

That all seemed reasonable to Nick. It made perfect sense. "Fine," he said. "Where's Miss Mapplethorpe going?" Hopefully that question wouldn't raise any flags for Supomo. Nick tried to carry it off as just basic curiosity.

"She's being released from FBI service. It's not our concern what she does when she's not under our purview anymore."

Nick knew better than to press for more information. And he ignored the ice in his chest at the possibility that the FBI had asked her to go back undercover, as they were doing for Nick, only she had refused. They had talked about finding each other when this was all done. Did she expect Nick to similarly refuse so that they'd be able to reunite free from the FBI? Well, that didn't really do Nick much good to think about. The reality was that he was going back undercover without her. And all he could do was hold on to the hope that she'd still be willing to reconnect when he got back and eventually found her again. Whenever that was.