It was 5:45 a.m. when Ted got the call. He was just enjoying his early morning coffee at his dining table, the television from the living room up to a decent volume as it played C-Span. The older man preferred this variety of news over the other 'flashier' alternatives. It was objective because they produced actual information and proof just like him. Ted takes another smoldering sip of his coffee continuing to read the news on his phone. He finally got the hang of it about a month ago when his son came to visit along with his wife and two kids.

…

Ted is always happy to see them considering he spends most of his off days alone, having taken to bird watching in his older years. The visits consisted of the usual stuff; dinner, being informed of all the kid's upkeep, brief discussion on his son Jacob's job, and his wife Stacie's adventures as an Elementary school teacher. It was cute conversation that he mostly pretended to listen to and respond accordingly as he cut into his ribeye steak.

"So, you're gonna be seventy soon, April. How's it feel," Stacie implores as she indulges in her sour cream and green onion baked potato, idly pulling one of the kid's hands out of their mouth.

Ted makes an indignant sound as an answer and Jacob steps in as well, "He's getting up there isn't he? But he doesn't look a day over…forty-five," He says, causing the two to laugh, even the two little kids who don't even understand what's going on.

Ted huffs again and his son and daughter-in-law are in hysterics. "But really Dad, what do you plan on doing?"

"What do you mean?" Ted asks after swallowing his bit of cut steak and taking a sip of his coke. "I'm doing what I always do. Work."

"But what about retirement? And before you say anything about money, I've seen your retirement package." Jacob hesitates, but continues, "Plus, I talked to Bill."

Ted's bushy salt and pepper eyebrows furrow at this information. "Why would you need to talk to Bill about anything?"

"Because, Dad, you've served on the force for forty-five years, you're highly accomplished, and handsomely paid as their lead investigator, and well connected. And you have a son who works in government in D.C. I think that it would be a good idea to rest-"

"Rest? I don't need to rest Jacoby. I'm fine, just old. This is all I have left."

Stacie and Jacob share glances before she grabs up the kid's to-go boxes and heads to the car, leaving son and father alone.

"You've got us, Dad. I just wish you could see it my way. We're still here, we're still breathing and very much alive. And I love Mom, God rest her soul, but she's gone Dad and it's been that way for years now. But I'm here. I still want and need my old man. And I hate to say it, but I don't want to lose you to this job."

"Job? It's not my job, it's my duty! Just like it was my duty to keep you and your mother-" Ted stops, sitting down his cutlery momentarily, feeling the rare tell-tale sign of him getting choked up. In his head, he hears a sweet familiar voice reminding him to breathe. Three deep breaths and exhale. "It has always been my duty to serve my community, my father did it, and now it's my turn. I couldn't faithfully turn in my badge without knowing that you and your family are safe."

Jacob sighs for what feels like the thousandth time this evening. "Dad, you are a part of that family too, don't you get that?"

"Ted doesn't respond to that, not wanting to continue going down this route. "And you're my son. I will be fine. I look forward to seeing you, Stacie, and the kids a few weeks from now," He tacks on, in hopes of steering the conversation elsewhere. Jacob takes the bait and relaxes, figuring he's about done all that he can to convince his father to rest and retire knowing it would fall on deaf ears, but it was worth a shot.

Ted finishes up his steak and the few garlic-roasted red potatoes on his plate before paying the bill. Outside he kisses both of his grandkids on the forehead, listening to them babble nonsensically in joy at the sight of their grandfather. Once Stacie has everything packed away and the kids strapped tight in their car seats she gives Ted a big hug and gets in the passenger side of the car.

Jacob shoots his dad one more pleading look but doesn't start back up. Instead, he embraces his father and with a pat on his shoulder reminds him, "Just think about it." Ted waves them off as he watches them leave before getting inside his Lincoln Navigator and heading home, making sure to make four left turns the closer he gets to his fairly safe suburban neighborhood.

…

Ted finally gets up and answers his landline with a gruff, "Hello."

"Hey, Ted, sorry to call you so early," Bill starts.

"No need to apologize, you knew I was up. I was going to stop by the office in a few hours anyhow."

Bill laughs on the other end of the phone at his friend and former partner of forty years. "You've always been an early riser, I remember you pulling me up by my bootstraps more than a few mornings." The two men laugh, shaking their heads wistfully. "I got a big one for you captain. Just came in this morning. We've already got a plan of action in motion within a few hours."

"What is it?"

"An arrest of two individuals suspected of trafficking drugs outside of state lines. I'm sending you and…Christian Locke to investigate."

"Damn it, Bill, you know how I feel about that boy. Can't you give me Landon?"

"No, Landon's out for the week, broken ligament. Plus Locke volunteered to work on this case."

There was a brief silence before Bill continued, "Look, I know you don't like him alright, but the guy's gotta learn some way, right? You remember what it was like when we were just starting, fresh out of the academy. We didn't know shit."

"Yeah, but my partner wasn't a reckless idiot either."

"Thank you for that. Just give 'em' a chance. This is just an in-and-out job, we're bringing them into custody and you just work your detective magic. Mostly just shitty paperwork later."

Ted smooths his hand over his salt-and-pepper beard in contemplation. "Alright. You owe me a beer later."

"I'll do you one better, Chinese takeout in your office, extra red yum-yum sauce."

"Deal. I'll be heading out in ten, Chief."

"See you then, and happy birthday Ted."

Ted steps out of the police SUV and onto the sidewalk in front of the neat and nice house that had to be worth over a million dollars despite its ranch-style appearance. When he and his…partner Locke arrive on the scene it is flooded with police officers.

"Whoa, what's with the grand surprise, can't be because Ted here just turned the big seven-o," Chris jokes, but Ted ignores him and the other deputies who engage with his younger partner. Instead, he greets everyone with a nod of respect as he makes his way up to Daniel Griner, one of the first officers on the scene to be briefed on what's going on.

"When we entered the house the two suspects were sitting on the sofa, speaking with the homeowner and his wife. The female suspect tried to attack the wife, but both suspects are cooperating and are now being held in that SUV," he says, pointing at the SUV parked closest to the curb with his pen. And there are no weapons on the premises."

"Thank you, Griner, did anyone speak to the homeowners?"

"Well, we tried, they are having what you would call a lovers' quarrel at the moment. Apparently, the wife tipped off one of our guys about the two suspects behind the husband's back. Wanna take a hack at it?"

Ted gives a curt nod before crossing over the threshold of the house with the red door. Inside, he spots the couple on opposite sides of the room, but he doesn't walk over to them off-bat. Ted isn't the best damn detective on the unit for no reason. The older man does a walkthrough of the house, paying more attention to the primary living room and kitchen areas after having discovered the discarded coffee mugs and serving tray.

The kitchen looks fairly clean, that is until Ted notices a wet spot on the floor, the sun having almost blocked it from view. Looking down, he spots an empty clear vile, that seemed to have rolled between the trash can and a chair. Maybe someone tried to discard the item, but missed their mark?

The detective dips his two fingers in the substance that leaked on the floor and pulls it up to his nose before instantly moving back at the strong, ammonia-like scent. He rinses his hand before drifting to the living room and looking around. He comes across a discarded bottle of orange on top of a coaster. Moving the bottle Ted inspects the coaster. And he knows to the untrained eye this seems frivolous, and if it was anyone else they would just do a sweep of the seemingly perfect house, collect the suspects, and call it a day. But in his forty-five years on the force, Ted Winston has seen things. Nothing surprises him anymore.

He sees that it's from a cafe called So-Cal. It has some intricate new-age graffiti designs on the coaster. Flipping it over in his hands he sees a similar design on the back before sitting it back down. Looking at the coffee table in front of the sofas he see's similar set of coasters with different designs, all from the same place.

Watching as the deputies move out of the room to go speak with the wife as she is moved into an adjacent room, Ted moves to go speak with the male homeowner. However, as he approaches the young man, his feet crunch down on a piece of paper. Picking up the discarded receipt the older man discovers that it's from a hotel. A very expensive hotel. Considering the huge expense for one night Ted figures that the name on the receipt is probably made up for discretionary reasons.

Making his way over to the young man Ted sits down on the arm of a sofa. "A fan of coffee?"

"I actually prefer tea, but I would be a hypocrite if I said I didn't. I mean I do own a cafe.

"So Cal?"

The distraught husband sits up, "How'd you know-" Ted gestures to all of the coasters.

"Figures." Larry shrugs.

"That's my friend's by the way, it dropped out of a bag they had."

"They?" Ted implores and the homeowner's eyes scan his face skeptically before allowing his shoulders to sink.

"Yes," The young man laughs humorlessly. "As unfortunate as this all looks, today was supposed to be nice. I was reuniting with a friend I haven't seen in years, we sort of lost touch…"

Ted clears his throat. "I'm sorry to hear that…?"

"Larry."

"So, things were going well?"

"It was until I found out," Larry suddenly appeared angry. "Until my wife betrayed me."

"Betrayal on any level isn't unprecedented, but often unfounded."

Ted follows Larry's spaced-out look over to the woman in the next room surrounded by officers.

"She said it was for our own good. That it was either them or us and I don't see how there was even a choice at all. Officer, uh, sir, can you assure me that my friends will be alright?"

Now usually, officers are known to say anything they can to assure the victims and all people who aren't prime suspects that things will work out, but Ted doesn't operate like that. He doesn't like to give false hope, but he's not heartless.

"Your friends are being suspected of something serious. We're not sure if it'll be a slap on the wrist." Larry drops his face in his hands, before sliding them down.

"Thanks, for being honest. Those guys," Larry gestures to the other cops across the hall. "Aren't being straight with me. And I don't know if I'm making a mistake here, but I feel like you care about the truth. My friend; the girl, we had known each other when we were kids back in a small mountain town in Colorado, and something horrific happened. Someone died and for years everyone thought it was me."

Ted sits back readjusting his posture at this new information. "How did a whole town not know that it wasn't you?"

"I have no clue, my family and I were told to move the same night of the incident by these people."

"What people?"

"The men in the white sui-"

"Hey Ted, how's it going over here? Everything alright?"

Ted tries to ignore Locke, but he continues to stand there. "Just talking. I don't need you tailing me around. "

Locke laughs, resting both of his hands on his older partner's shoulders. "He isn't boring you with his old man mumbo jumbo is he?"

Under Locke's pressing eyes Larry seems to harden once again, closing back up. "No. Are you guys almost done? I would like for you to leave."

"No worries, I think we've got everything we came for," Locke replies and the younger male turns away from the pair.

Standing, Ted makes his way across the hall only to be halted by Locke. "We've already questioned her. You don't have to double back, we have to get these two down to the station."

"Are you stopping me from doing my job young man?"

"No, I just find it counterproductive."

"How about you step out of my way before you make this an issue." Ted enters the threshold of the dining room and the lingering officers acknowledge the elder detective and make their way out of the way.

Ted doesn't even get the chance to say anything before the blonde woman speaks, "I already told them everything I know."

Ted holds his hands up. " Hey, I get it, you're tired of being questioned. I just wanted to check in with you is all."

"I'm fine." Her words are very sharp and straight to the point, but it's nothing that Ted's forty years of detective work and marriage can't handle.

"Your husband doesn't seem to be taking everything as well."

"He's angry, but we will deal."

"There were moments of anger, but he mostly appeared…sad." The wife's posture seemingly softened at Ted's words, but her front was still in place.

"I understand that. I need him to understand me. No one wants to understand me."

"Try me."

The older man sees the hesitation in the blonde's eyes but ultimately relents. "A choice had to be made. That's how it was laid out to me."

"By who?"

"Some man, he came to me a day ago. He said that these people; my husband's friends weren't good people. That they were caught up in something very dangerous, something that could affect the livelihood of me and my husband."

Ted hums to himself, running his hand through his medium-length black and silver locks. He could see that the choice was simple to the wife, she had good intentions, but…Ted knows better than others how they often fall short.

"I was given instructions. Give them-"

"The vial," Ted finishes, and the wife's expression suddenly morphs into one of nervousness. "Don't worry, I'm the only one that knows."

"I was just doing what I was told. I put it in the tea, but they didn't drink it. So, I did the next thing on the list and called the police."

"Do you remember the name of the person who came to you?" The wife's eyes flash to the side of Ted, but the older man ignores it, pressing forward once again. "Do you know the name?"

The younger woman's expression hardens. "Like I said, I've told the officers everything I know."

Ted sighs. "Thank you for your time, miss." The detective turns to leave only to bump into Locke in the hallway.

"Be careful there, Ted. Be sure to watch where you're going, don't wanna be stepping on anyone's toes," the younger detective says, plastering a slightly unnerving smile on his face.

Ted shakes his head at his…partner's comment and makes his way out of the house. As he begins to approach his SUV he is suddenly called over by none other than…Locke.

"Hey, partner, we're gonna take this one right here." Trudging over to his 'new' vehicle, Ted waits for the previous occupants to get out before he gets inside the passenger seat. Locke goes over to the driver's side and before getting in, slaps the top of the truck to signal everyone else to round everything up.

The car starts up and pulls away from the curb, letting a few other cars and SUVs pass by before pulling onto the street. Ted finds it unusually quiet inside of the car, he's used to suspects asking questions and screaming for a lawyer, or that they are innocent.

However, one look in the rearview mirror he can see that the two suspects were speaking, just very quietly to each other, the only tell-tale sign of anything being the slight nod from the dark-haired equally handcuffed male.

Ted doesn't press for anything and pays more attention to the cars in front of him. Having met traffic Ted watches as Locke maneuvers his way out of their previous lane and turns down a side road.

"What are you doing?"

"It's traffic, I'm just taking a shortcut."

"We don't do shortcuts, the station isn't too far, turn around."

Ted begins to become more irate as Locke continues going down this newly found road. "Just relax, okay?"

"No, turn the car around!"

"See, that's your problem, too old, always thinking that it's your way or the literal highway. That you're right about everything. You know, you don't know everything, alright?"

"What are you spewing about?"

Suddenly, Locke hits the brakes hard, a few inches away from hitting the bumper of a truck.

"What the hell are you doing Locke? Have you lost your entire mind?"

Ted doesn't have time to register the younger detective's response as they are rapidly surrounded by three other black SUVs.

"What the fuck!" Locke shouts, hitting the steering wheel.

"Hey, what is going on, who are these people," Ted hears one of the suspects ask, he can't tell which one as he focuses on the situation at hand.

A group of masked men exit the trucks and force everyone out simultaneously. "Put your hands up!" The muffled voice shouts at the two officers. Two men grab a suspect and direct them to get inside the tinted window truck with guns pointed at each of their heads. "Inside, now!"

The suspects follow directions and get inside, and Ted is slightly relieved that they aren't being combative.

"Move it, old man." Ted feels a cool pistol push against the side of his head directing him to get inside of another tinted truck. Ted moves his hand to his holster but is immediately stopped.

"Don't do that," the voice threatens with a laugh. Relenting Ted removes his hand and the gun on his hip is promptly removed. The gun that was already at his head cocks, and pushes forward even harder. "Now, follow your fellow officer and get inside." Everything happens fast, too fast for Ted to process everything. Ted sees a blindfolded Locke and soon a blindfold is tied over his own eyes.

Feeling the car take off, the older man strains his ears to hear the conversation being held. It's not much, but he did pick up on the names Marsh and Vegan. Or Feegan? Rapidly reaching forward, Ted grabs the man in the driver's seat in a death-like headlock, causing the car to spin out of control.

"Let go or I'll shoot your buddy!"

Ted hesitates, wanting to snap the assailant's neck, but the sound of a gun going off, causes him to release the man.

"Fuck, m-my arm." Locke groans in pain, and Ted can feel the hot liquid on the seat. He reaches out to Locke to apply pressure, finding his already bloody hand there.

"Now sit the fuck back or I'll blow both of your heads off."

30 minutes before Shelly and Skyler's arrest…

"I am listening babe. I know. I understand that," I express as I adjust my grip on the MPR rifle in my hands as I attempt to stay crouched down behind a cement wall on top of an abandoned industrial building. I try not to roll my eyes as my lover continues to nag me about leaving my clothes on the bathroom floor through the black earpiece lodged in my ear.

"I'm serious, Christophe. I could have been seriously injured this morning by one of your knives that fell out of your pants pocket!"

"Wuz it the one with the red snake on it?" Damn, I could really use that knife. It would make my day much easier.

"Why does that matter?"

"It doesn't."

"Christophe," Gregory starts in an even pissier tone and God, I love him. "Are you on a JOB?"

"Well, yeah," I admit knowing that I wouldn't be able to lie to my lover.

"You said that you were going to visit your mom."

"I am. Juz had a little detour, darling." That much is still true. I just decided to cop another job on my way. My contractor has been hassling me for the past 48 hours about this mission and to prevent me from actually shooting the fucker I took the job.

It's a quick one-stop job, kill two birds and leave, and receive a shitload of payment. However, I'm not about to explain as much to Gregory because he hates this type of shit, so I just settle with being caught and promising that I will be at my mother's house later tonight. He huffs at my praise and I smirk.

"Babe don't pout, you know how cute I think it is." There are more huffs and a dramatic sigh, but I know that my blonde lover is smiling on the other end.

"Call me soon, mi amour," Gregory says flirtatiously, giving in to his husband.

"Wait, I wuz enjoying your lovely voice," I protest.

"Well, I'm busy with a shit ton of work and need to be at my book club meeting in a couple of hours."

"Are you going to wear ze' green camos?" I ask knowing that it will cause Gregory to blush.

"I don't know, probably not."

"Wear them. And send me a pic."

"Fine, now I seriously have to go." He sounds breathless almost as if he is moving around in a frenzy and there's the sound of papers ruffling.

"Love you."

"Love you, bye," Gregory says, his warmth spilling through the phone before ending the call.

I love that guy.

Noticing movement across the street I instantly school my features, my cool mask of detachment falling over my face. Instantly becoming the mole. Switching between my regular self and the persona others call 'the mole' has become fairly simple over the years. It's not so much of a pain like the first time I had to or more like forced to.

To protect myself and complete my mission I forced myself to turn off any emotion, using only logic and rationality to help me survive and keep the 'bad guys' from knocking my door in to kill me and everyone I know if I clammed up. That is why I called this part of me the mole not only because of what I do as my profession but because I'm in and out, capable of digging my way out of anything. I don't take pleasure in my missions and I try to complete them as quickly as possible while remaining unseen.

My two targets enter the small garden of a Mediterranean-inspired house and stop at the front door. The targets appear to be discussing something and the female whose face I cannot see shrugs and her shoulders lift before slowly falling as if taking a deep breath before finally turning to look at the red door.

Finally obtaining a glimpse of the female target's face my grip on the trigger loosens and confusion lacerates my features, breaking through my mask momentarily. That's Shelly Marsh. Stan's sister? Doing something completely out of character I blindly reach into my left cargo pants pocket as I hold up the rifle with my right hand and shoulder.

Grasping the sleek phone in my hand I remove it and begin to dial a familiar number. As the phone rings and I contemplate sitting the rifle down altogether a blackbird lands on top of my rifle and stares at me. I shoo the big bird in hopes that it would go away, but it didn't.

"Pick up ze fucking phone Stan," I murmur to myself as the phone continues to ring for what feels like an internity in which I watch the red door open and a blonde male stands in front of the pair.

My phone suddenly rings, and I look away from the view in front of me to answer.

"Stan! Where the fuck are you?" Pulling the phone away from my ear, I quickly glance at the caller ID.

"Christophe, hello? I'm in California of all places. Why?" Christophe proceeds to give me an address and a brief set of directions before abruptly ending the frantic phone call.

Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself for whatever comes next. Exiting the suite, I take the elevator to the lobby, watching the numbers pass wishing the metal contraption would go faster as my anxiety begins to spike.

Once in the lobby, I head straight to the black SUV, still parked in front of the hotel.

Before he can greet me, I give Jack an address, he doesn't question it, he just opens my door and closes it behind me before getting in the driver's seat.

(*)

Jack pulls between two faceless buildings and I practically jump out, following Christophe's directions which leads me toward another set of buildings in a nearby neighborhood. If I wasn't so wound up with anxiety and my thoughts weren't so out of whack I would take the time to admire the architecture surrounding me, the houses in this neighborhood are beautiful, they all take on a very modern Mediterranean aesthetic which made the Tuscan-Spanish features look very cohesive and clean.

"One, two, three," I count to myself, stopping at the concrete building that looks like some sort of clothing shop. I go around back and climb the staircase, bracing myself, I pick up some speed before jumping a building over, praying I don't break my ankle.

Luckily, all my years of being an athlete paid off as I stuck the landing. I place my hand on the cement wall near me and catch my breath. "Fuck," I whisper to myself. Looking around I try to spot any signs of Christophe. I don't have to look hard as I'm pulled down behind the wall.

"What the fu-"

"Shhh, be quiet."

There's a moment of silence and Christophe looks as though he is trying to pay attention to something. I strain my ears to try to hear whatever it could be and-are those sirens? And they were becoming louder. Sure enough, looking over the wall I see a swarm of police cars heading towards a house with a red door. There has to be at least ten cop cars.

Looking closer, I recognize the familiar shade of brown hair. "Shelly!" Christophe's grip on me tightens, beckoning me to be quiet. She's with someone who looks like her ex-douche of a boyfriend. And there in the doorway of the house, he sees the face of the blonde male sitting on his knees. Is that Larry Feegan? I thought he was dead.

I watch in horror as the whole thing plays out; Shelly and her friend being put in the back of a black SUV, hands cuffed behind their backs. Christophe and I sit there for what feels like hours, but it is probably just ten minutes as the SUV transporting my older sister pulls away from the curb and most of the cop cars disappear. A few cops linger for a few moments before finally leaving.

And just when I think it is all over, the red door pops back open and Larry Feegan's blonde head reappears with a suitcase in his hand, heading to one of the parked cars in front of the house. A woman with snot-colored blonde hair runs out of the door after him, grabbing onto him.

However, the man stays unfazed as he throws his luggage in the backseat. He unravels himself from the woman and gets in the car, starting it up in a matter of seconds. The woman tries chasing after his car, but to no avail, as he disappears down the street out of my eye-view. Moments later the woman drags her heaving body inside of the house, shutting the red door behind her.

We crouch down behind the wall for a few more moments making sure that the coast is clear.

"I take it, this iz why you are in California?" Christophe starts, as we stand up, still concealed by the concrete wall.

"Yes, Damien told me that Shelly was in trouble, so I booked it out here." I look down at Christophe's attire and the long-range rifle tossed to the side. "I guess he wasn't wrong."

Christophe runs his gloved hand through his brown hair, mumbling to himself. "What's wrong?" I implore.

Christophe looks at me and opens his mouth to respond only for the phone on his hip to ring. He pulls the burner phone out and stares at the screen before flipping the screen closed with a curse.

"Christophe?"

"I wuz sent here to do a job. Shelly is in trouble, Stan, someone wants her and her little friend dead."

"What could they have possibly done for someone to want to kill them?"

Christophe shrugs. "I don't know, I'm not told that information, I am just given the targets' description and location. I am going to try one of my connectz in this area to get more information and fast. My contractor iz gonna kill me."

"You can come with me, Damien set me up at a hotel not far away, we can figure out our next moves there."

Christophe seems to be going back and forth about something in his head, before agreeing. "Letz go, now, we don't have time to waste."