Disclaimer: With all due respect, Fox's lawyers, my cat, trust me- you don't want to go there.

7:34am PST

Liz stumbled off the airplane in L.A. still groggy from the uncomfortable nap she had taken on the flight. Her eyes were scratchy, and she had just realized as the plane taxied to the terminal that she had no idea where she was staying. As she tried to avoid tripping on the child ahead of her, she had to ruefully admit that so long as there was a horizontal surface, a blanket and some sort of quiet, she really didn't care. She just hoped that whomever Chapelle sent to pick her up didn't expect her to be bright and shiny. She was not a morning person under the best of circumstances and these were a far cry from that.

And she was also very concerned that there had been no messages on her phone when she had turned it on. No Jack, no Jamey, no Nina, not even an irritated "Are you here yet?" from Chapelle. Nothing. It didn't bode well for the rest of her trip.

Waiting for Liz in the terminal, was none other than George Mason. And he didn't look very happy about it. Just perfect, Liz thought, and here I was afraid it would be Chapelle.

The total incongruity of George Mason standing in an airport, waiting for her to come off a plane, threw her for a loop and she stopped, annoying a few of the departing passengers behind her. She moved to the side to let them pass and tried to center herself. Suddenly she felt like she had stumbled into a test she hadn't studied for. After the last of them had exited the area, Liz slowly made her way toward George.

A sarcastic grin spread across his face as he extended his hand to shake hers. "Hey, Liz, welcome back. We missed you around here. Well, some people did at any rate."

"George?"

"Yeah?"

"You're not really my escort, are you?" Liz asked wearily.

"Well, Chapelle's not too happy with me, so yeah. Looks I'm your escort. Lemme take that bag, at least I can pretend I'm a gentleman. You look like hell, by the way."

Fine, if that's how you want to do this. "Why thank you, George, that's wonderful. And you look like a fresh spring morning." Liz handed George her overnight bag, and shook her head. George always tried to keep his image impeccable, just in case someone more important than he was watching. But the suit he was wearing was rumpled, his tie was askew, there were circles under his eyes, and his five o'clock shadow was running into midnight. Liz didn't quite know what to make of it.

She began to follow George through the crowd, and tried to school her expression. But her exhaustion was causing her usual mask to slip. George noted her confusion as they walked through the crowds, "Jesus- you really haven't heard what happened yet, have you?"

"The plane explosion or the assassination attempts on Senator Palmer?

"No, the murd- Never mind, it can wait 'til we get in the car." George glanced around the crowds like he was looking for something, or someone. "Too many people around."

Murder? Liz's stomach churned uneasily. George had almost let something slip and it wasn't like him. Usually when he knew something she didn't, he'd dangle it in front of her, taunting. Or if she had something he wanted, he'd offer her a deal. But George continued to monitor the crowds, and he shifted her bag from one shoulder to another. This nervousness was something she hadn't seen before and it began to feed into her own.

Trying to pull up even with him, Liz prodded him, "You looking for someone? Afraid we're being watched?" She tried to keep her tone light, hoping George wouldn't pick up on her increasing alarm.

"After yesterday, I really wouldn't' be surprised. We've had an… interesting day. Well, day and a half, at any rate. A few things happened and we're in a bit of a tight spot, hence your summoning. You're going to clean up a few things for us."

"OK, I'll bite. Why me? And why the rush? I'm supposed to wrapping up my last assignment. Filing reports, giving statements, filing more reports, you know- all that stuff you loved to heap on me when I was here."

"I can't- Listen, this isn't the right place, Liz. You're going to have to bear with us. Bauer asked Chapelle to call Langley, so now you're officially re-assigned to CTU for the time being. Your little wrap-up can wait."

Liz forced the levity, "What happened? Jack put a gun to his head or something?"

George paused, and for a moment Liz was frightened. Appearances were very important to George, and the state of his clothing and his obvious exhaustion were worrisome enough. But as he turned to Liz, there was a haunted look in his eyes she didn't like. There was also anguish in his expression. It was something else Liz had never really seen before and it disturbed her. Liz began to wonder if the man was approaching some sort of breakdown.

"George..?" Liz put a hand on his arm and stopped him. Dear, God, what's happening here?

"We'll talk on the way to CTU. Let's keep moving, Liz, people are waiting there for you. And the sooner I get you squared away, the sooner I get to go home and go to bed."

Liz and George resumed their journey. The crowd thinned out and she was able to walk alongside him, lengthening her strides to match his. "We're going right to CTU? I was hoping to have time for a shower and a change, if not a few hours sleep."

George snorted, "No rest for the wicked, Lizzie. Right to CTU for you," he looked her up and down quickly and gave her a sly grin, "although I'd suggest running by the locker room for that quick shower first."

Fixing George with a glare, Liz snorted, "Please, George, it's not like everyone there hasn't seen me look worse. And if Jack looks half as bad as you do, we'll all be a matched set."

George sighed and the anguished expression returned. "Yeah, about Jack, Liz. I should probably tell you that you won't be seeing him until tomorrow sometime at the earliest. He's… not exactly taking visitors at the moment."

"Why not?"

"He's at a safe house for the time being." He held up his hand to stop Liz before she could even start to speak, "And don't ask, I can't tell you until we're out of this crowd."

"George!" Liz could almost feel the ground slipping out from under her feet. She couldn't wrap her mind around what was happening. For the life of her she couldn't get the plane crash and the assassination attempts she had heard about and Jack's apparent withdrawal from CTU to add up. Liz searched for something, anything to say to George to get him to open up, give her some sort of clue. But George stayed silent as they continued winding their way through the crowds. Trying again, Liz prompted, "So Nina's in charge then?"

There was a heavy pause, "No, I'm pretty sure Nina's not in charge of anything at the moment."

Liz's anxiety got the better of her as they reached the airport doors. Liz pulled George around to face her, demanding his full attention. "What the fuck is going on here, George? A safe house? And why the hell is Nina not in charge if Jack's at some safe house? I thought that was her job."

George held Liz's gaze, but said nothing. Slowly, Liz dropped her hand from George's arm. "Please, George, just tell me something." She pleaded, almost in a whisper. But George remained silent and turned to exit the terminal, heading toward a dark SUV parked at the curb. There was nothing Liz could do but follow.

As they approached, two agents Liz didn't recognize exited the vehicle. She watched George hand off her bag to one of the waiting agents, who took it around the back. The other handed George a PDA and said a few words, leaning in so Liz couldn't hear. George frowned as he looked at the device and turned to Liz. "You ever heard of a guy called Vincent Schluter?"

Liz nodded, "He's an Eastern European arms dealer, German by birth, wanders around the former Soviet satellite states spreading sunshine, rifles and hand grenades. Why?"

"This him?" George handed her the PDA. On it was a surveillance photo of two men talking on a street somewhere. The one on the left was wiry, with short-cropped hair and a dangerous look to him, the one on the right-

"That's him, the older one on the right with the cigarette. Who's that he's talking to?"

"Guy's name is Ira Gaines, a mercenary." George reached out and took back the PDA.

"He involved in this?" Liz asked.

"Gaines was, but he's dead now, we're just running his back trails. Hop on in; we'll be taking the long way so we have a chance to catch up on old gossip."

Liz pulled herself into the SUV and sunk into the plush seat. George sat next to her, and the other agents sat in the driver's and front passenger seats. There were no introductions, the agent driving just started the car and pulled away from the curb. Liz closed her eyes and rubbed her temple, fighting the headache that was threatening behind her eyes. She wanted, needed, George to tell her what she was doing here, why she had been dragged all the way across the country. But she was afraid to begin; afraid of what George had to tell her.

Evidently, that fear was scrawled all over her face. "Liz, you OK?" Will wonders never cease, he's actually serious. She could hear the concern in the man's voice. It was something else that Liz had never seen.

Liz opened her eyes. Some of the anger she had felt earlier in the day began to percolate back through the exhaustion and worry. Liz shook her head, "No, George, I'm not. You're telling me that a friend of mine is in a safe house for a reason you won't disclose. The person who should be doing his job while he's out isn't. The guy who fired me a year ago, and enjoyed it, I might add, is bringing me in and bending a heckuva lot of rules to do so. You look like you've pulled an all-nighter, which I don't think you've done in the four years I've known you. I haven't had a decent night's sleep in over a week. I'm tired, I'm angry, and frankly you're starting to scare the shit out of me, which I didn't think was possible for you."

A tired grin touched the corners of George's mouth. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, just answer me one question before we jump into this."

"Shoot." George winced at the word and absently rubbed his thigh. "Metaphorically speaking, of course. Wouldn't want you to get any ideas."

Liz took a deep breath and asked softly, "If Jack is in a safe house, where are Teri and Kim?"

"I- there isn't an easy answer to that-"

"George, dammit, talk! Where are Teri and Kim?"

"Liz- You, I- Listen I can't just-" George was stammering at the borderline panic in Liz's voice.

"George-"

George reached out and took Liz's hand. The tenderness with which he held it did nothing to quell the panic rising in Liz's chest. He looked right into her eyes and started to speak in calm, measured tones, "Liz, Kim is OK. She's at the safe house with her father."

Closing her eyes, Liz asked the obvious question. She feared she already knew the answer, "And Teri? Where is she?"

"Teri Bauer was murdered at around 11:30 last night. I'm sorry; I know you were close to the family."

Liz didn't speak for almost five minutes, fighting the tears that started behind her eyes. A thousand images and memories flashed through her mind as she wrestled with what she had just heard. Liz could hear Teri's voice in her ears, how she would occasionally call just to check on things, often as worried about Liz as she was for her husband. And now, according to George, she was dead. Just like that. Liz couldn't believe it, didn't want to. Jesus, I just talked to her, what, less that a month ago?

Liz fixed her eyes on the scenery passing by the roadside and slowly dragged her wandering mind back to the car, to the present. She felt, rather than saw George shifting in his seat nervously. Liz wondered if her silence was the cause or if he was just getting anxious to tell her what happened. "Liz," he began.

"Do we know who killed her?" Liz interrupted.

There was a slight hesitation before he answered, "Yes, we know who killed her."

"Is he in custody?"

Another pause. "Yes, she has been moved to the federal lock-up downtown. We didn't want to leave her in CTU holding."

"She? Who is it, someone I know?" Liz turned to face her former colleague, "What aren't you telling me, George? What happened here last night?" Liz was fighting her anger again. She didn't have a lot of patience to begin with and after everything she'd been through lately; George's evasive answers were pushing her to a breaking point. She was sorely tempted to just grab the man by his lapels and shake the answers out of him.

Liz knew George could sense her hostility and as he rubbed a trembling hand over his eyes and over the top of his head over his thinning hair, and Liz was struck again at how strung out he looked. "Liz, I'll tell you who did it if you let me go back to the beginning and tell you the rest in order. It won't make any more sense that way, but at least you'll have the basic chronology, and you need that before we get to the briefing at CTU. We'll be there in less than twenty minutes and I'm positive you won't want to be unprepared considering who you'll be meeting with."

"And that would be…?"

"Senator David Palmer. He delayed his entire campaign just to talk to you this morning."

"How does he-" Liz caught George's warning glance and stopped herself. First things first. "All right, then." She paused for a breath, "Who killed Teri, George? Who killed Jack's wife?"

"Nina Meyers."

And with that, all of Liz's questions plummeted away, and she could only listen numbly as George proceeded to lay out the events of the twenty-four hour period which had irrevocably changed so many lives. Teenage rebellion leading to a nightmare, panicked parents looking for their only child. Hostages, assassination attempts, chases, escapes, rescues. And at the center of it all were two traitors, and a vengeful terrorist and his two sons. By the time the SUV arrived at CTU the outline was etched into Liz's memory, and she was steeling herself for what was to come.