Liz's first conscious thought upon waking from her slumber was that she smelled bacon. It disoriented her so much that for a moment she thought she was home. It took her a second to take in the mustard walls with peeling paint and the lumpy mattress that she was sharing with her boyfriend. Wait…if Frank was here, who the hell was cooking bacon? Liz's heart started pounding in her chest as she stood and lightly tiptoed to the door. She could hear the sound of shoes on laminate and the sizzle of bacon in the pan. She quickly returned to the bed.

"Frank, get up!" she hissed in her boyfriend's ear. Frank moaned and turned over, squinting at the alarm clock.

"Christ Liz, it isn't even 8 yet." He attempted to flip back over, but she grabbed his shoulders.

"Someone is in our apartment cooking breakfast." Where was the gun?

"What? Breakfast?" Liz rolled her eyes and started rooting through the dresser drawers. She could swear the revolver had been in here.

"Where's the gun, Frank?" Frank looked at her blankly and shrugged.

"I don't know. Kitchen maybe?" She swore to God, Frank was lucky the gun wasn't in the drawer at this moment, otherwise she'd be tempted to shoot him. They were three floors up, no fire escape and nowhere go except out into their tiny shithole apartment with where a potential serial killer was waiting for them. "Liz, relax. The dude's probably just some crackhead too stoned to realise he's not in his own apartment." Liz hoped to hell Frank was right. She knocked loudly on their bedroom door.

"Hey asshole. If you're here to rob the place you should have figured out by we don't have any good shit to steal. Now I've got a cell phone in here I'm calling the cops so if you're smart you'll get the hell out before they get here." She held her breath and waited. A calm, friendly voice drifted back through the door.

"Elizabeth, we both know you won't be calling the cops. For one thing you'd have to explain the unregistered firearm someone left in your fruit bowl. Now why don't you and Frank come on out here. I assure you, I don't mean either of you any harm, and breakfast is almost ready." He knew their names. There was a potential psycho in their apartment and he knew their names.

"What do we do?" Frank was staring at her like she should have the answer to this situation, because God knew spending seventeen years on a farm equipped her to deal with a home invader. Liz took a deep breath. She could handle this, she just had to be smart.

"I'm going out there. Get your phone. Dial 911, but don't hit 'Send',' unless I tell you." She waited few moments, watching Frank follow her instructions. A part of her desperately wanted Frank to say something, to tell her to stay, or offer to go with her. Not that it would have changed her mind, but it would have been nice if he'd offered.

Liz mentally shook herself. She was being stupid. This was the smart play and Frank knew it. He was trusting her, trusting that she knew what she was doing, trusting that she could take care of herself. She didn't need Frank to protect her. She took a deep breath and opened the bedroom door.

The intruder was standing in the kitchen with his back to her. He was tall and lean, but Liz could tell there were some serious muscles going on underneath that tee-shirt. The kitchen table had been set for two people. A folder was sitting at to the right of the juice glass.

The man turn around and Liz blinked. Psycho man wasn't much older than she was, and he looked like a freaking male model. He smiled warmly at her like they were old friends.

"Good morning. Bacon?" This may have been that weirdest thing that had happened in Liz's life to date.

"Who the hell are you and what the fuck are you doing in our apartment?!" If this guy thought she would be disarmed by a pretty face and a plate full of food, he had another think coming.

"At present I'm making you breakfast. You and I are about to do a little negotiating and I believe all business transactions should start off on the right foot. Seriously, have some bacon. Its extra crispy, just like you like it." He grabbed a piece from the place and popped it in his mouth. "See, delicious."

"How would you know how I like my bacon?"

"Your father told me." Liz blinked. Her father hired someone to track her down, break her into her apartment and cook for her?

"Bullshit." Even as the words came out of her mouth, she began to doubt them. The food the weirdo had made for her WAS her favorite. Bacon. Toast. Tea with two percent milk.

"I admit I wasn't his first choice. When the more senior detective struck out, he decided to take a chance on me." There was that smile again, ever so slightly crooked as though he found this whole situation amusing beyond words.

"So you're what? A PI?" What kind of PI breaks into the subject of his investigation apartment and cooks her breakfast? As far as Liz knew private investigators still had to obey the law. Was this guy even old enough to be a private investigator? Weren't PIs supposed to retired law enforcement officers? Nothing about this guy screamed cop, former or otherwise.

"Of a sort. By the way you can call your boyfriend to come on out. I'm clearly not armed, and I have to speak to him to him. Classy guy by the way, letting you come out here by yourself." Even as she bristled in Frank's defense a part of her couldn't help, but agree. She assessed the situation. Whoever the guy was he didn't pose an immediate physical threat. If he'd wanted to hurt either of them he would have done it already, gotten the drop on them while they were sleeping.

"Frank, it's alright." After about ten second Liz heard the door behind her ease open and suddenly Frank was standing at her side, still holding the cell phone.

"Frank Geller. What a pleasure. I have something for you on the table there. I'd pass them to you, but I don't want the pancakes to burn. Don't worry Elizabeth, they're for me, not you." So the PI knew she didn't like pancakes. It wasn't a state secret, but it definitely pointed to his story about her father hiring him being legitimate.

Frank cautiously approached the table and snatched the folder that had been sitting there. He flipped it open and stared.

"What the hell is this?" Liz grabbed the envelope out of his hands and found herself staring at a photo of Frank breaking into a car they'd stolen two weeks ago.

"I should think it's pretty obvious: they're photos of you breaking the law. Grand theft auto. Breaking and entering. Larceny. You have been busy, busy, busy. You can keep those by the way. I have copies. Here's the deal, Frank: You will leave this apartment now and never contact Elizabeth again, or I will be sending these to the nearest police station." Frank's face went white. He wasn't a minor anymore and there was enough evidence in this envelope to put him away for years. Frank looked at Liz, with that deer in the headlights expression of his.

"Don't look at her. Look at me. You will go to jail. Not Juvie. Jail. Now run along Frank." Frank swallowed hard and without looking at Liz, grabbed the keys to his car and took off without a word. Liz schooled her face into the most neutral expression she could manage, fighting off the wave of pain and betrayal. Frank hadn't loved her, and she'd known that. Still would it have killed him to have looked a little more conflicted about ditching her?

"Like I said before: classy guy." Hearing the voice of the asshole who'd just cost her her boyfriend sent a jolt of anger through her. Anger was good. She could work with anger.

"You didn't give him a choice." Why she was defending Frank, she had no idea. Maybe it was because something about the PI's tone was criticizing her taste, and not Frank.

"There's always a choice. Now why don't you sit down. Breakfast is getting cold." He really was a smug son of a bitch wasn't he? Arrogant too, thinking he had control of the situation, thinking now that Frank was gone she was just going to fold and do whatever he asked her to do. Still, playing along for the moment might be the smart play. Let him think he had the upperhand, and get him to lower his guard.

Liz sat in the chair the stranger had indicated and took a piece of bacon from the plate. The man smiled and joined her, bringing his stack of pancakes with her. The smell of the syrup made her want to yak.

"So you've been following us, taking pictures?" She was careful to keep her tone impassive, despite the rage churning within her. He nodded as he cut a perfect square of pancake with his butter knife.

"I have." They both ate in silence as Liz tried to process the information. This guy hadn't just found her. He'd been tailing them for a while and she'd missed it. She'd been sloppy and stupid.

"You have some of me too?" They hadn't been in the folder, but she'd been with Frank when he'd committed those crimes.

"I do." So what was this guy's game? He was going to blackmail her into going home? No chance in hell. In a split second she flipped the table onto the PI, who leap back with remarkable quick reflexes. Liz lept over the mess she'd made and swung her first punch, a right hook, which he'd dodged.

"Liz, calm down." His eyes were slightly widened and his face had lost it's smirk.

"My name's Elizabeth." She' feigned right, and jabbed hard left, catching him in the cheekbone.

"Elizabeth, you don't want to do this."

"Where are the originals?" If he gave her what she wanted, he was more than welcome to leave. If he didn't, then he brought this on himself.

"I am not here to hurt you." Did he really think she was scared of him? If she was, she was too pissed at present to feel it.

"Wrong answer." Liz swung again, but this time the PI caught her arm and use it to flip her onto her back. In a moment he was on top her, pinning her to the ground.

"I am not your enemy. I can get you what you want." His last sentence made her pause. What she wanted? How the hell would he know what she wanted?

"And what is that?" He couldn't know could he? No one knew, not her father, not even Frank.

"Answers about your birth parents." Who was this guy?

"How did you know about that?"

"I read your email." Liz felt her anger start to rise again, but she forced it down. She had more important things to worry about than an invasion of her privacy.

"Does my dad know?" The PI raised an eyebrow as though her question surprised him.

"That you were looking for your birth records? No. I didn't tell him." Liz relaxed a little. One promise she had made to herself when she had started down this road was that her father not be involved in the search for her birth parents. She could remember when she was eight and her dad had offered to get her name changed to Mulhuin. She'd said she didn't want to and Sam had said he was fine with her decision, but deep down she'd always wondered if she'd hurt him with her choice. She didn't know how to tell her father she wanted answers about her biological family, without making it sound as though she thought he wasn't enough family for her.

"So what's your offer?" Whatever it was she hoped he made it fast. With her anger ebbing away Liz was becoming more and more affected by the fact she was currently being pinned to the ground by a young hot guy. It didn't apparently matter to her hormones said guy had broken stalked her, broken into her apartment and blackmailed her boyfriend into leaving her.

"I get you a look at the records, you go home to your Dad. And no more Frank. Deal?" Liz bit her lip. Could it really be that simple? Then again what did she have to lose?

"Deal."