Steve walked slowly into the room. After leaving the fish market, he and Bo had split up. Bo had gone to check Abe's and Isabella's, while Steve did a drive by of Marlena's. The ISA was there, so Steve had to wait until they left. But his check of the place turned up no sign of Roman - or whatever the were going to call the dude now. Then, having no other idea where Roman might have gone, Steve remembered another time he had searched for the man and remembered who he had called for help. So Steve had decided to check out Shane's.

Obviously, the ISA had the same idea.

"So what's this warning I need?" he asked Tarrington. "I thought we got this all settled in our little living room conversation."

Tarrington did not respond, so Steve continued to speak.

"Oh, let me guess. . . . The ISA's gone back on its word. You never intended to leave me alone." He mimed shooting a pool cue. "I got it, didn't I? Eight ball in the corner pocket."

"Ah . . . returning to your former career ambitions," Tarrington said, his voice dripping with arrogance.

"You're a regular comedian," Steve shot back. "When you give up this head honcho spy bit, you should head to late-night TV. But I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I was cannon fodder for the ISA; nothing more than a 'secondary objective.'"

Tarrington returned to being tight-lipped.

"Okay, so it's the silent treatment." Steve circled Tarrington. "I'm really good at that one too. Though Shane has a bit of trouble keeping his mouth shut."

"Steve." The caution was plain in Shane's voice.

Before Steve could respond, Tarrington spoke. "I have business to attend to, Shane. Feel free to fill Mr. Johnson in on our conversation. He should be told that his efforts are useless." Tarrington glanced at Steve. "You haven't seen the false Roman Brady since earlier, have you?"

Steve responded with a maniacal grin. "Of course I did. He's already halfway to Canada by now. I bet if you leave right now, you might manage to get him before he hits the border."

Tarrington's lip curled into a bit of snarl, but he did not reply to Steve. "Shane . . . I'll leave you to explain our new agreement." With that, he turned and left the room, leaving Steve and Shane alone.

Neither said a word until they heard other voices in the foyer. Then Eve entered the library. She was carrying the baby and followed by a very subdued, wide-eyed Andrew.

"Are you okay?" Shane asked. He was gripping onto the arm of the couch with one hand and, to Steve's eyes, seemed a little unsteady.

Eve nodded. "We're okay. They kept asking about Roman . . . I mean, the man we thought was Roman? I didn't really understand all that, but they said he wasn't Roman."

"It's a long story," Steve said, though his eyes were on Shane, whose entire body seemed to sag with relief. That was when Steve realized how much whatever had happened with Tarrington had taken out of Shane.

"It was scary, Daddy." Andrew tugged on the leg of Shane's pants. "Why did those bad men want Uncle Roman?"

Shane gave Steve a quick glance, then said, "It's okay, Andrew. Don't worry about Uncle Roman. He's just fine." To Eve, he added, "That was good thinking, darling . . . telling them Simmons left early."

That told Steve what he was wondering. "So Roman was here?"

Something flashed in Shane's eyes, but he spoke to Eve first. "Eve, would you take your brother and sister into the kitchen?"

"Why does this sound so familiar?" Eve muttered, rolling her eyes. "Come on, squirt. I'm sure those men didn't eat all the cookies."

After they walked out, Steve waited for Shane to sink heavily onto the couch. Dude looks exhausted, Steve thought, then reminded himself that it had only been a few weeks since Shane had been shot.

"So I guess Roman's come and gone." Shane's silence served as confirmation, so Steve asked, "So you want to tell me 'bout your talk with Tarrington?"

Shane looked up. "They had a man on Deakins, so they know all about your little trip."

Damn. Steve spun around and slammed his palm down on a bookshelf. After everything he had done to keep the ISA from finding out.

"You did manage to lose your tail in Charleston," Shane said.

"Great," Steve muttered. "Like that did any good. . . . So what else did he say?"

Shane sighed. "He threatened to have you 'removed.'" Before Steve could react, Shane raised a hand. "I told him it won't matter, because I'm not having any of the soldiers testify. So you can go hunt down soldiers to your heart's content; it won't make any difference. So he agreed. I won't use the soldiers and he won't do anything to you."

"Well that was a stupid promise," Steve snapped. He felt a surge of anger. After what he had managed to find out, he still had leads to pursue. And now Shane was cutting him off at the knees. "I just got Nowicki to agree to talk to me, and I'm heading to New York to meet with him. Who knows what he's going to give us? He might blow the lid off the ISA's case."

"And how does that evidence come into court?" Shane said, each word sounding as if it came with effort. "The only evidence that would help is classified and the only way to bring it in would be to call someone to testify who would go to jail for talking. I thought your experience with Deakins' family made you understand that."

Steve's frustration was beginning to overwhelm him. "I did. . . . It did. . . . But I'm not giving up."

"Steve-"

"No, Donovan, don't 'Steve' me." Steve paced impatiently in front of the doorway. "I'm not giving up on this. There has to be something - some evidence or some witness out there - that's gonna give us what we need. I'm not just dropping things because you made some deal with the devil."

"Dammit, Steve. I made that deal to protect you; can't you see that?" Shane leaned forward on the couch. "I know you want to help, but, after everything you've been through, don't throw away your life for nothing."

Steve shook his head. "If you've made your deal, I've got nothing to worry about." That sounds like ISA logic, Steve thought. "So who am I hurting?"

"We both know what the ISA's word is worth," Shane said.

Steve could tell it was hard for Shane to admit that they could not trust the ISA. But that meant little in the end, didn't it?

"Their word's worth nothing, but they can count on you to keep yours," Steve pointed out. "That makes a lot of sense."

"That's enough," Shane said evenly. "There's no further point belaboring this. You may not agree or even understand, but I'm not going to explain myself again. I'd just like you to think about what you're risking. The ISA's going to have you under surveillance, so let's say you do come up with some smoking gun. . . . Do you really think Tarrington's going to let you run with it? How do you even know this little trip of yours isn't a set up?"

Steve started to respond, but then hesitated. Could it be a set-up? He thought about it for a moment, but then shook his head. He believed Deakins could be trusted. "It's no set-up," Steve insisted. "Deakins wouldn't do that."

"So you're insistent on doing this?" Shane asked, obviously resigned to what he knew would be Steve's answer.

"That's right," Steve said.

Shane waved his hand. "So, go. Obviously, I'm not going to change your bloody mind."

As Steve turned and headed for the door, still frustrated at Shane's refusal to fight, he heard Shane say one more thing.

"Steve . . . just . . . just be careful."