Kate felt a bit sore as they drove. She was thankful for getting out of that hospital before too many questions were asked, and she sure had enjoyed her smoke, although she told herself again she really should quit. Maybe this time she actually would. She dozed off and on as Brant drove. She'd woken up at one point in the hospital and watched him sleep, his face pressed against his hand and his elbow leaning on the arm of the chair. He'd looked softer almost, vulnerable. It had made her want to rest a hand on his cheek and tell him everything was going to be alright. She had recognized that he worked hard and lived for the job, just like she did. Having that in common with him helped her to understand him.

She knew she was lucky to be alive...they both were. She didn't even want to think about what would have happened if they hadn't stopped driving...and not only about how it would have killed her and Brant but how it would have killed any chances of Delia being saved. She really didn't blame Brant at all. She'd forgotten to check for a bomb too. The only good thing out of it was that she wasn't thinking about the events from the hotel anymore. She'd quickly buried it, thanking the dissociation for that.

It was late now, and she could see Brant was exhausted. She reached to touch his arm lightly, and he looked at her.

"We can stop," she said.

"Is there another bomb under the car you're sensing?" he asked, slightly joking. She gave him a look, and he scoffed while looking forward again. "Next place that comes up, I'll stop."

"Thank you."

She'd had enough of being in a car for a while anyway. As much as she wanted to get back, she was stiff and sore and needed to remain sane in order to work effectively. She watched the scenery go by, knowing that any other person would be marveling at such sights and being in Europe, but she was too busy thinking about what hell Delia was being put through to enjoy it.

Once they stopped, she followed Brant to their room. He left the car where it was, almost as if he, too, was afraid it was going to blow up again on them. She stepped inside before him after he held out an arm, and she sighed in relief. A shower would be lovely, although she needed to be mindful of the bandaging. Brant said nothing as she went ahead to do it. She ended up just doing pieces at a time, keeping the water away from her side fairly easily enough by using the tub's faucet instead of the shower head. It wasn't the most comfortable "shower," but it had to do.

She came out in fresh jeans and a t-shirt while toweling her hair, and she found Brant on the phone.

"You're serious?" he asked, shooting a look at Kate that instantly put her on edge. "Okay. I'll tell her. Yea. Talk soon." He hung up, and Kate waited on edge, her fingers fidgeting with the towel in her right hand.

"What?" she prompted as he looked at her. "What's wrong?"

"That was Nash. Stokes found Delia," he answered. She felt herself begin to shake. Her brain instantly jumped to the worst case scenario.

"Just tell me," she whispered. She braced herself for his grim expression and telling her Delia was dead, but that's not what she got.

"She's at the station," Brant said. "A little banged up, but she's alright. Stokes is gonna keep her there until we arrive. She's safe, Kate. She's alright now."

The relief hit Kate hard and fast, and her knees almost buckled. Delia was safe. Delia was going to be okay. Delia was going to go home to her family. This was over. Well, not quite, but it was a win. Kate would stay to help Brant finish this because finishing it here meant finishing it back home.

"Kate?" Brant asked, looking at her a bit worried. "You okay? You heard me, right?"

Without even thinking, she tossed the towel in her hand onto the desk to her right and strode over to him, catching his face in her hands and kissing him with all she had.

...

Stokes was tapping his pencil on the desk while humming to himself. He felt happy in this moment. The girl Brant was looking for had been found, and she was safe in a conference room down the hall. He was going to be talking with her to see if he can get anything about Norman or anyone in the same circle as Norman. Porter was out getting her something to eat, and Stokes was feeling like maybe there was a light at the end of this miserable tunnel.

"Here," Porter said a few minutes later, showing up with a takeout bag and bottle of water. "I let Brant know."

"He's thrilled, right?"

"Couldn't tell."

"Right," Stoke scoffed. Brant was very monotone most of the time. The only expression he seemed to wear was one of annoyance or anger. He very rarely smiled. He grabbed the bag and water and stood up, heading to see Delia. She was a small thing, pale, with dark brown hair and blue eyes. There were bruises on her face and arms. Stokes didn't even want to think about her legs or torso or anywhere else she was probably hurting from. He set the bag down on the table, and Delia snatched it in seconds, devouring the food shortly after. She gulped down the water moments later.

"I hate to get into this right now," Stokes said, smoothing a hand over his pad of paper. "But I do have some questions for you."

"Go ahead," Delia said, her voice a bit hoarse. "I'll tell you everything you need to know to take down these assholes."

Stokes smiled. "Glad to hear it. I know you've been through a lot, so just take your time."

"Alright." Delia looked a bit sad now. Some tears slipped out, and she wiped at them quickly. Stokes wished she wouldn't feel like she couldn't express emotions. He understood how big this all was.

"Let's start with your handler," he said. He didn't want to say "pimp." It just made him feel uncomfortable. He knew she understood, though. Delia leaned forward and brushed her sleeve across her mouth to rid it of crumbs.

Then she told him everything.

...

Brant was taken off guard by Kate's kiss, but he accepted it easily enough. She pressed against him, one hand holding the nape of his neck and the other the front of his jacket. He put his arms around her and held her close. She kissed him hard and deep, making him groan and propel her backwards into the wall. She kept kissing him, hands moving to find his, and he linked his fingers through hers and pushed her arms up over her head against the wall. It was her turn to groan, and her nails dug into the backs of his hands.

It was unclear why he was going along with this other than he just really wanted to. She just smelled so good and felt so nice and actually was interested in him that he forgot to be tough and hide behind his walls. He forgot that he didn't do this, didn't fall for someone...didn't want to hurt the other person with his anger and curtness and priority being work.

What was he doing?

He pulled back, meeting her eyes with his when she finally opened them. He let go of her hands, moving his to rest on her hips lightly as hers settled on his shoulders. He could keep going. He could let himself have this moment, but that part of him that was scared of hurting her wouldn't let him.

"I can't," he said.

"No, you're right," she agreed, pushing a hand through her hair now as he stepped back. "We're working together. It's a bad idea."

"I don't let people in, Kate," he said. "There's a good reason for that."

"You get hurt," she said.

"No," he contradicted, shaking his head. "The other person does."

...

Kate was trying to make sense of it when Brant blew air out of his mouth heavily and moved away. She felt a little bit sad, knowing that he was isolating himself out of fear of hurting someone.

"Is it your charming temper that does it?" she asked. "Or what else makes her leave?"

"I've always put the job first," he answered, confirming what she already knew. "And I'm not great with emotions. Do the math."

"You just need a good teacher," she reasoned, and he looked like he wanted to say something but didn't. He shook his head again.

"You're better off without me."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

"No, Kate. I mean it."

She knew he was serious, and she decided not to push him any further right now. She figured if she gave him time, he'd come around.

"Okay," she said softly. He left for the other room, and she stood there wondering if she was crazy for falling for a man like him. She waited a moment, and then she walked slowly and looked into the bathroom where Brant was standing and leaning his hands on the vanity while staring at himself in the mirror. It almost appeared as though he was having an internal fight with himself.

"Hey," she said, making him turn his head to look at her. "You alright?"

"I've never been alright," he confessed. She moved into the bathroom and hopped up onto the vanity next to him, tilting her head.

"Tell me," she said.

"Tell you what?"

"Why do you hate your father?" she asked, recalling the fierce way he'd told her to not call him Tom, and he tensed slightly. She worried that she'd pushed him away, but after a moment, he sighed heavily.

"He did nothing but cheat on my mother. She always took him back, and I got sick of watching him treat her like a dog. He lied and did things to her and my sister that I don't even want to mention. I just don't want to be associated with him."

"And where does Brant come from?"

"My mother's maiden name."

"I see."

She and Brant just looked at each other. She wondered if he could read her mind. She was quite drawn to him, but realistically, how would it even work? They lived on two separate continents with jobs they were not going to leave anytime soon.

"Why is there so much anger inside?" Kate asked now. "I mean, it's more than just your father, isn't it?"

He looked at her, and she could tell he wanted to talk about it. She waited, knowing that he would when he was ready, which he was a few minutes later.

"My mother took her own life," Brant said quietly. "All the bullshit my father put her through...she lost her self-worth, and she spiraled into a depression no one could pull her back from. My younger sister turned to drugs to cope, winding up in the very world I'm trying to stop right now. I lost her to an overdose not long after she started using. She was 19."

"Oh, Brant," Kate said softly, resting her hand over top of his on the vanity. "I'm so sorry."

"It's why I'm a cop," he added. "It's why I'm doing this job, even though I hate being undercover. I get so angry inside because of how I lost my family due to a wretched man who shouldn't even be still breathing right now but is because I haven't found him yet."

"You'd kill him?"

"I don't want to answer that," he replied truthfully. She twisted her lips and patted his hand lightly.

"Fair enough."

"You're a good woman, Kate," he said. "Too good for me." He took his hand back, and she slid off the vanity to stand in front of him before he could leave.

"I am never too good for anyone," she insisted. She could see him struggling inside. He wanted to do something about what was happening here, but he wasn't letting himself. "You are worth it, Brant. I hope you know that."

He took in some breaths and then gave her a tight smile.

"I'm gonna turn in," he said, moving around her. "Goodnight, Kate."

"Goodnight." She was disappointed, but she let it go. She rested a hand on the nape of her neck and tilted her head back, eyes closed and fingers tangled into her hair. She felt foolish for thinking she could change his mind.

She fell into a fitful sleep later and hoped her niece was doing okay where she was. Despite everything, she was looking forward to seeing her tomorrow.

The Next Day

Brant hated the awkwardness between him and Kate now. She'd been quiet on the rest of the drive back, and now they were parking at the station where she'd soon see Delia. He was happy for her that she got her niece back. He knew Delia would be traumatized, though. He hoped she could have a semblance of a normal life after this.

"Hey," Brant said as they neared the doors. Kate looked at him. "You know you can go home, right? You got Delia back."

She stopped walking, making him stop too. He noticed she looked a bit perturbed.

"You want me to leave?" she asked, sounding hurt.

"Erm, no...I mean..." He didn't know what to say. She waited him out, though. "I just thought...well there's no sense, really, in staying since you...you've got her back." He watched her study him, wishing he knew what she was thinking.

"I see," she said finally. He felt really bad suddenly; this whole exchange was just disastrous. He wanted to tell her what he really felt, which was that he actually did want to let her in and try to have a relationship with her regardless of what that would look like. He didn't want to be alone forever and didn't want to miss out on something that could be amazing. He opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the words to say all of this to her when Porter burst out of the front doors and made them both jump slightly.

"What's wrong?" Brant asked, seeing his partner's face. Porter wore a very grim expression, and he only had eyes for Kate. She picked up on it and started to tremble slightly.

"What is it?" she questioned, her voice barely hanging on.

"Someone tried to kill Delia last night," he told them.

"What?!" Kate exclaimed, sounding terrified.

"We're working on it, but she's being kept under full time surveillance now. I fear the person is one of us."

"No," Brant growled.

"Yes," Porter countered. "Actually two people. Brant, her interview with Stokes is gone." Both Kate and Brant felt the gravity of this statement, and they looked at each other.

"Gone?"

"Yea. I think someone went in to delete the data while the other tried to kill her. Stokes is out chasing a lead right now and has no idea, but I'll tell him, and he'll redo the interview when he's back."

"Alright," Brant sighed.

"Can I see her?" Kate asked now.

"Of course."

"I'm gonna pay Norman a visit," Brant advised. Porter stopped him, though.

"Take Kate with you. Act like you have no idea what's going on and claim that his buddy tried to murder you. If you can stay in it a bit longer while we get a team ready to move in, it would be helpful."

"Right."

Porter held out his hand for the backpack, and Brant handed it to him. They both knew how vital all that information was right now.

"I'll just be ten minutes," Kate told Brant, who nodded.

"Take all the time you need."

She left without a backwards glance at him, and he felt worried for her. If someone was trying to kill Delia, then who was to say they wouldn't try to kill her too if they knew she was alive?

"Come on," he said to Porter. "Let's end this thing."

...

Kate found her niece huddled on a cot in an office near the back. The officer on guard was a friendly blonde woman with a bright smile.

"Aunt Kate!" Delia gasped, standing up to hug her tightly. "You're here!"

"Hi, baby," Kate said, hugging her back just as tightly. "Are you okay?!" The thought of someone trying to kill her niece was almost suffocating.

"I'm fine," Delia answered. "Inspector Hughes here saved me before the guy could attack me."

"Thank you," Kate said to Hughes, who smiled again.

"My pleasure, loves. I'm just out the door if you need me."

"Okay."

"How did you find me?" Delia asked when they were alone.

"I'm smart, remember?"

Delia smiled. "You're gonna take me home, right?"

"Yes, but I have to finish this first."

"Right. I gave DI Stokes everything he needed."

Obviously, no one had told her that information had been stolen and/or erased. Kate didn't want to tell her that right now. The girl had gone through enough as it was. She wanted her to have a few moments of peace.

"We'll get you home as soon as possible," Kate promised. "Your dad is going to be so happy to see you." She didn't say anything about Delia's mother. Despite Delia taking her last name, they didn't have much to do with each other, and Kate wondered if she was going to take the Macer name eventually instead.

"He'll be mad," Delia argued. "He told me to not hang out with those people, and I did anyway."

"Delia, he won't be mad. He just wants you to come home safe."

"I don't remember what happened to me..."

"It's alright," Kate soothed. "You don't have to talk about it right now."

"I wanna get these guys, Aunt Kate. I wanna help. Please?" Kate could feel her own self emanating from Delia right now. Despite enduring such horror, she still wanted to do her part in taking the bad guys down by any means possible, even if she was still healing from fresh wounds.

"If we need you, we'll let you know."

"Did you come over here to collaborate with the police?"

"Eh, not exactly," Kate answered. "But that doesn't matter. What matters is we are here now, and it is going to be all over soon."

"Okay."

"Can you sit tight? I have to speak with Brant."

"Brant?"

"Colleague," Kate advised. Delia made an "ah" face in understanding. They hugged again.

"I love you," Delia said.

"I love you too. Hang in there."

Kate left her in charge of the female officer once more. She found Brant and Porter huddled at a desk a moment later.

"Well?" she asked.

"Come on," Brant said, standing up. "Let's go get Norman."

Kate followed him out to a different car that was waiting for them. She appreciated that he was letting her do this—get closure. Once they got Norman, it would get her guy, Elijah, back home.

She looked at him once they got into the car and buckled up.

"Thank you," she said. His face grew a bit soft, and he nodded.

"Of course," he replied. He put the car in gear, and then they were headed towards the end of their undercover case.