"I know what you're going to say," Rebecca said before her uncle even sat down. Ray frowned for a moment, and then pulled out a chair.

"Is that so?" he replied dryly. "Has your recent brush with death given you mind-reading powers?"

"No." Rebecca resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "But I know you, Ray, and you're going to tell me not to go to Colorado, because it's too dangerous, I'm not well enough, it's not worth it...ect., ect." she waved a hand to emphasize her point.

"Exactly," Ray said. "You know the reasons, and yet you're still going. Why?" But Ray knew the answer before his niece whispered,

"Because I have to find him, Ray."

"No, you don't. Dammit, Rebecca!" Ray stood up and slammed a hand down on the table. It was a good thing, Rebecca thought wryly, that they were the only ones there, the bar being closed for the night.

"I almost lost you to him once," Ray said softly, sounding hoarse. At that, Rebeca felt a pang. She realized that her NDE had been hard on her uncle, but the raw emotion in his voice was startling. "I don't want to go through that again, Becky."

"You won't," Rebecca promised. "I'll be fine; if it makes you feel better, Hauser's going to make extra sure I don't over-do it."

"Not really, since he's the one who got you into this mess in the first place," Ray grumbled. Rebecca sighed and placed a hand on the man's arm.

"I'll be fine," she repeated. "I'm a detective, a cop. It's what I do." Now it was Ray's turn to sigh.

"You don't know how often I wish it wasn't." Rebecca stood up and stretched. She had made up her mind in the hospital, and both she and Ray knew he wouldn't be able to change it. She gave her uncle a kiss on the cheek and said softly,

"Thanks for worrying about me, Uncle Ray. Really, I appreciate it. But I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."

Ray gripped her hand in his. His eyes roamed her face. "I know," he whispered. "I know."

...

"Absolutely not," Hauser answered adamantly. Lucy didn't seem intimidated at all; she merely raised an eyebrow.

"I am not a child to be coddled and protected from the world, Emerson," she said. "And since when did you dictate where I go?"

"Since I became your boss," Hauser said gruffly. He turned away from her, staring at one of the computer screens. They had had this conversation a hundred if not a thousand times. Preparations for the trip to Colorado were pretty much complete — except Lucy wanted to come along (she didn't know how his heart had nearly stopped when she asked that, his mind imagining all the horrible possibilities of her decision).

Hauser had tried saying she wouldn't be equipped enough to deal with the rough terrain of a mine like he and Madsen would. But then she had pointed out that Soto, who was also not equipped, was going — something he didn't like either, because it wasn't like they needed any more information on Madsen - Tommy Madsen, that is. But Rebecca had argued that since Soto was part of the task force, a vital part of the team, that he should go, an agrument Lucy had taken up for her own cause.

"Emerson." Lucy stepped closer. He didn't respond, but turned to look at her. She enunciatd her words very clearly:

"I am not going to Paraquay. The only plane, or whatever mode of transportation you're using, I'm getting in is to Colorado."

Hauser stared. "It's not safe," he whispered, hating how weak he sounded. He needed to be strong, strong enough to protect her — if she'd only let him.

Lucy shook her head and gave a small smile. "Oh, Emerson. Didn't anyone ever tell you?" She leaned in. "Life isn't safe."

And then she walked away. Hauser shook his head, still not believing it. Why did she have to be so stubborn? But...but that's why he loved her, her sense of justice and her willingness to do what had to be done. Knowing it wasn't, nor would it be, a good idea, Hauser found himself calling out to her, "Fine. You can come. Flight leaves tomorrow at five."

She didn't even turn around.

...

"Are we ready?" Hauser asked. He looked at his team, and mentally sighed. Rebecca, who, in his opinion wasn't quite recovered from her stab wound; Soto, who just wasn't physically or mentally equipped for such an undertaking; and Lucy, who he knew was strong but wanted as far away from the danger as possible.

"Yeah," Rebecca answerd, shifting a bag on her shoulder. Every other luggage bag was packed but she had insisted on keeping that one. The detective looked around briefly and said, "Where's our pilot?"

"You're looking at him," Hauser responded gruffly. He didn't quite know what to make of the shock in Rebecca and Soto's faces: was it a compliment to his skills, or an insult of his limited abilities? He decided not to dwell on it and opened the door to their small charter plane.

"Come on," he ordered, gesturing to the door. "Let's get going." They piled into the plane and began the long journey to justice and revenge.

...

Blood. There was blood everywhere, and oh, there was pain there, too, and concerned faces leaning over her. She saw a car peeling away, away from the scene of his crime, and she caught a flash of yellow and the gleam of a single tear trickling down a pale white cheek...

Rebecca jerked awake with a gasp. Lucy and Doc looked at her, immediately worried. She waved away their questions and avoided Hauser's assesing stare from the cockpit.

"I'm fine," she insisted. "I–I just had a bad dream. It's fine." Her team was skeptical, but left her alone to her thoughts. She looked out the window, watching as the desert flew by. How long had she been asleep? A while, it seemed.

"Are we almost there?" she asked. Hauser answered her,

"We'll be landing in about an hour." Rebecca nodded. So close. She was so close to finding him and bringing him in. She could taste the retribution (no, no, justice, she insisted to herself) on her tongue.

"Soon, 2002, I will clap a pair of handcuffs on your wrists and lock you up for a long, long time," she whispered to herself, trying not to obsess over what in her dream had been a memory and what had not.