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DG

Francesca Barrett leaned back in the driver's seat. The car was parked behind a large oak tree. Darkness enveloped every crevice her body except for the small part lit up by her cell phone.

"I don't think you understand what you're getting yourself into, Barrett," a woman's light voice echoed from the end of the phone.

"Please, I always know what I'm getting into. I'm good about that," Francesca smirked, pulling her gun off the seat beside her. "You're here. If I need help, you'll know."

The woman sighed, "You're not good about that. All you are concerned about is your scorecard."

"Is that what you think of me?" she chuckled.

Continuing, the woman scolded, "I'm serious. This is the last straw. You think that nothing can hurt you. That's not right. That's… that's impossible."

"Just be listening," Francesca hung up. She brought her leg up to her chest. It was just an old shack, some disconnected bugs. She had done it a million times before, alone. No one had ever been trouble. At least not trouble in Francesca's eyes. And besides, she loved a chance to go there again, craved it. When she entered that place it transformed into a safe haven. Memories would muddle in her brain, keep her from the real goal.

Francesca opened the door quietly, pulling down on her yoga pants. She walked quietly through the forest, gun her hand, ready to shoot. The shack came up ahead.

On the second floor, one room was lit up by candles. She could see a silhouette of a tall figure. Francesca went forward to the front door, letting it swing open. Voices echoed down into the front rooms of the cabin. All male.

Swallowing, Francesca brought her gun out in front of her, ready to shoot if she needed to. She went toward the staircase. Her feet couldn't be quiet enough to stop the stairs from creaking. As she went up the steps, she whispered into the small microphone on her shirt, "I'm going to need back up."

No response.

"Nole," she whispered.

No response.

Francesca shook her head, going up farther. She knew every twist and turn of this place. It was easy to get out, no matter what position she was in. The door to the lit up room was open slightly. She was ready.

Francesca pushed the door open with her foot and held her gun out, finger ready to pull the trigger. And then she saw him. Hannibal Smith standing over by the window with a cigar propped between his fingers.

"Oh, Christ," she shaded her eyes and shot before drawing back to the stairwell.

B.A. cracked his knuckles, "Hell, no."

Face picked up the small shotgun he had been spinning across the table. While the two of them went after her, Hannibal's mouth fell open as he stared at the door. Shots rang out below them and growls of defense.

He looked to Murdock, "Don't say anything."

"Hey, I'm crazy but I can keep a secret," Murdock chirped, leaning in his chair.

Hannibal jumped into the hallway hearing the girl screech, "Get your hands off of me!"

"Put the gun down," Face twisted her wrist.

"She's wearing a wire," Hannibal stepped down toward her.

B.A.'s gaze shifted to the girl's shirt. He pulled it up to reveal the wire and a purple, red scar on her abdomen. Francesca dropped the gun, "So, Colonel Smith, we meet again."

"Fra-Agent Barrett-" he nodded.

"Special Agent Barrett, thank you very much," Francesca glared up at him.

Face pushed her back as she struggled, "You know her?"

"Hey!" Francesca shouted at B.A. who was trying to remove the wire. "Watch where you put your hands, buddy." She reached around to her back and removed the small device. B.A. yanked it from her neck and crushed it in his hand. "See how much easier everything is when we work together?"

Hannibal was still letting it all sink in. Francesca looked no different than he had left her five years before. Her golden brown hair still cascaded down in a tight ponytail and her gray blue eyes widened as he stared at her. "We have to get out of here."

"Let me just…" he looked to the gun and back at the girl.

"Woah," she laughed. "You can't be serious."

Pushing Face away from her, Hannibal took the gun, "He's not."

For a moment, Francesca just watched the man. A smile crossed her face, "Don't even-" She threw one punch, striking B.A. across the jaw and lifted her leg about to strike. Hannibal reached out, the side of her leg resting in his palms.

"You should think of something better than that, Barrett."

Her eyes narrowed, "Oh, stuff it, Smith."

Face held up the gun again, "This gun looks better and better."

"No," Hannibal pursed his lips. "You're not going to hit me, are you?"

B.A. had recovered from the throttling and shook her back to the wall again. As she was pulled back, Francesca finally locked eyes with him, "Why wouldn't I?"

It took a moment for Hannibal to take those words in. She didn't care if she hurt him. Either Francesca wanted revenge, or she didn't believe that the past had really existed. She didn't want to believe in the past.

"How do you know each other?" Face held her back.

"Oh, we have a mutual friend," she replied, smiling sardonically at Hannibal. "And we've met a few times. Here and there. Of course, most of those run-ins have been less than pleasant."

Face shook his head, "Look we don't have all day. Let's just leave her here and-"

"We can't just leave her here, it's too dangerous," Hannibal went toward the front door.

Murdock finally came down the stairs, "A blue SUV just pulled up outside."

"Blue?" Francesca cocked her head to the side.

"Your people?" B.A. went toward the window.

She looked down, "Why would my people be driving in a blue car?"

Shots rang out, breaking a window here and there. Hannibal looked toward the back door and then to Francesca, "Where's your car?"

"How do you know I drove a car?" she ducked as Face pulled her down. "Maybe I skydived to get here. Or I could've-"

Hannibal pulled a pistol from his coat, shooting out the window, "Don't get smart with me."

"Since when do you have power over me?" she fished a key chain from her pocket.

Walking back to her, Hannibal removed his belt and jerked her hands to her back, "Since you became my captive."