For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

Here's a couple things you might need to know or maybe you just forgot: Downy slips away from the laundromat and Ellie is in a panic. It's Casey to the rescue, thanks to a GPS tracker implanted in the cat's collar.

Twenty Questions, Part 1

Downy sat on the chair between them, curled up asleep. She'd long since grown tired of the game where the adults merely sat there and looked at each other and spoke.

"Favorite vacation spot?" Ellie asked.

He had to pause, to think about that.

"That one's not an instant answer?"

"Not necessarily," Casey said.

She sat, impatiently waiting, watching as the gears in Casey's head clearly turned. "You have actually been on vacation before, haven't you?"

"Well, I've been to traditional 'vacation' spots, but not necessarily for a little rest or relaxation."

"You could tell me your favorite vacation spot where you worked, if you were really so inclined..."

Costa Gravas, while a recovering Communist nation, had been a pretty place to spend several months if you could get past the grenades, rocket launchers, and sniper skirmishes. Prague had always been intriguing to him, though not because that was where he'd first met the illusive DEA agent Carina. He missed Washington D.C. and Fort Meade, places steeped in patriotism and history. And there was always Dubai, home of Weap-Con.

But, could he actually call any of those his favorite?

"I guess I'd have to say... Italy."

Ellie's eyebrows drifted up her forehead. "You've been?"

"A few times."

"For work? What kind of work took you to Italy? 'Cause I can't imagine it was the Buy More."

"I thought it was my turn to ask you something now," Casey challenged.

Ellie opened her mouth, paused, then sighed. "All right, fine, but, be prepared, 'cause that's my next question."

He grunted, amused. But, at least he had a few more minutes to try to think of a good cover story for his work trips abroad. After a moment, a slow smile took to his lips, for all of two seconds. "Most embarrassing moment?"

She narrowed her eyes. "I ask you a light, fluffy question and you respond with... that?"

It was a calculated risk, hoping that she'd ask him the same instead of having to answer about Italy. He shrugged.

"You can be a mean man, Mr. Casey."

"You're stalling, Dr. Woodcomb."

She wrinkled her nose. "You noticed that, did you?"

"We could adjust the rules if you wanted to. We could veto one question each."

She weighed that option for a moment. "You might ask a worse question, one I really, absolutely don't want to answer, instead of one that will just turn my face beet red."

Casey shrugged innocently. "Well, that would be the strategy, wouldn't it?"

"All right. I accept your veto rule amendment, but I'll..." She took a slow breath. "I'll answer."

He nodded slightly.

"I can't believe I'm going to confess this to you..."

"You're a brave soul," he told her.

She laughed a little, tucking her hair nervously behind her ears. "I hadn't been at the hospital very long, maybe six months. They had asked me to give some presentation to a group of high schoolers, a pre-med club?"

He nodded, not quite sure where this story was headed.

"So I give this awesome speech, about how important medicine is, how great it is to be a doctor. Everything goes well. I ended on some brilliant note, something about taking steps to the future... And as I move to leave the podium, I tripped over my own shoelaces, in front of this group of probably fifty kids, their teachers, and another ten or fifteen of my colleagues." She was surprised, and thankful, that all he did was offer her a slight smile. "But, for probably a year after, I was known around the entirety of Westside as..." She mumbled the rest of it.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Casey asked.

She mumbled it again, a little louder.

His hearing was better than most, but he still couldn't make it out. "Ellie?"

She sighed, reaching down to cover Downy's ears, as if the cat would somehow reveal her most embarrassing moment around the apartment complex. "Dr. Twinkle-toes," she managed. "They even had a lab coat made up with that embroidered on it!"

He couldn't help it then. The chuckle that emerged was warm, throaty.

Ellie huffed. "And your most embarrassing moment? How 'bout it?"

He sobered nearly instantly. He didn't hem or haw or try to avoid the question. He didn't use his veto when he could've. Instead, he answered as honestly as he could: "Losing my job in front of respected, trusted colleagues."

"The job before you came to the Buy More?"

He nodded slowly. Kinda, sorta, he decided. After all, he'd been with the NSA before he came to L.A. It just so happened that he'd continued that job while at the Buy More. And he had subsequently gotten it back. But it was still his most depressing, most embarrassing, most humiliating moment.

It still troubled him, trying to salute Beckman but getting a mere handshake in return. He cleared his throat, ready to ask her another question when the dryers began to buzz, signaling that their cycles were finally finished. "Saved by the bell, I guess," he told her.

Stay tuned...