"My doctors assure me they are doing the best they can." Peng replied to Captain Chandler's pointed words. "I do wish your wife could have made the trip. Perhaps our doctors could learn how to do it better from her."

Internally, he winced, reminded of why he'd insisted Rachel stayed home. Diplomacy was not her strong suit – instead of poking the elephant as he had, she would have skewered it and then roasted the carcass. Peng struck him as the sort of fellow who had a very thin veneer of diplomacy over an actual practice of direct action, and he feared what his reaction to that would have been.

"Unfortunately, she is quite busy in the lab. Maybe some other time."

"So is it still Dr. Scott, or Dr. Chandler? Or is she doing that thing where you put them together? You Americans confuse me sometimes."

"Well, for one, she's British. And since she's a published researcher who's not done publishing, she thought she'd keep her name the same."

"Logical." Peng conceded, raising his glass. "May you have many happy years together."

"Thank you." Replied the captain before they both returned to their meals.

"So how was the wedding, Captain Scott?" Sasha smirked.

He sighed and pulled out his phone, opening up a folder of the pictures that every woman of his acquaintance had demanded to see since he'd gotten married. It would be faster this way.

"Here." He said as he began scrolling through the pictures. "Ashley was the flower girl… Sam was the ring bearer… here's the dress…and the vows…"

Sasha sipped her wine as she watched, but noticed something out of place. She whispered to Tom under cover of her wine glass.

"That waiter seem out of place to you?"

"What, you mean the one white attendant at a formal Chinese dinner party?" he replied nonchalantly. "Hadn't noticed him."

She snorted at his blasé response, but persisted.

"He seems especially interested in you. Don't suppose you know him?"

"Never met him before in my life. But I think I recognize his face from somewhere."

"Well, seeing as we've already made a scene…" She drank her wine, caught the man's eye and raised her now-empty glass. He came over quickly and began to pour the wine when he suddenly lost control of the bottle.

"Sorry, Ma'am. I'll get you a new plate."

"What's your name?" she asked.

"What?"

She sighed. This man had no subtlety.

"Why were you staring at us?"

"I wasn…" he broke off at the raised eyebrow. "Okay, I was. I'm sorry. I'll go. It doesn't matter now anyway."

"What are you talking about?" Tom asked, thoroughly confused, noticing the man had trouble meeting his eyes. "What doesn't matter now?" The only answer he got was a quick glance at his phone, still displaying his wedding pictures, before the man resolutely looked forward once more.

"What I wanted to discuss with you is no longer relevant."

"Well, you've got my interest now. You may as well talk."

"Really – it's okay. Just keep her as happy as she is there."

"What?" then it clicked. "Michael."

"Yes, sir."

"Wow. You made it. We didn't think it was possible."

"It was a close thing. I assumed she assumed I was dead."

"Um…" Sasha said. "Care to introduce me?"

"Sorry. Sasha, meet Michael… I'm sorry Michael, Rachel never did tell me your last name…"

. . . .

Peng wandered over to the scene unfolding before him. He'd heard about the American man who'd shown up, seemingly desperate to work this event at the last minute. Out of curiosity, he'd made a note to allow it…and had him under observation the entire time. He'd noticed the way the man watched Chandler, and wondered what he'd do when he reached him. Given the blatantly public setting of their conversation that had continued for over a minute now, it was clear that the man was not a spy. Or if he was, he was a spectacularly bad one.

"…I was Rachel's boyfriend before the Red Flu. I didn't hear about the wedding until tonight."

Peng managed to cover his reaction with a cough as he approached the trio. He'd intended to chastise the waiter for pestering the guests, but that line shattered his plans and his assumptions in one blow. His cough had also stopped the conversation he'd meant to insert himself into.

"Ah, forgive me. I did not mean to interrupt."

"No worries." The waiter said. "I was just going."

"Michael, stay a moment."

"Sir, really. It's okay. You make her happy." Tom looked at him in disbelief. "I've never seen her smile like that before. Ever."

"I really must meet this woman." Peng said, receiving two incredulous looks as the men turned towards him. "Nevermind, gentlemen. I have some more guests to talk to." He turned and walked away, chuckling in amusement. Looks like he didn't need to worry about a spy after all.

He looked over at a sudden flurry of activity – the Vietnamese delegation was on their phones, looking at each other frantically. He signaled for his aide and moved to investigate.