Paul and I had managed to stop the truck several blocks down. The driver was wary at first, but our ACME credentials spoke louder than our appearance. Knee deep in rubbish, we listened for the faint ping coming from Paul's communicator now that we were in close enough range.

"Got it." he announced, holding it up in the air triumphantly. The screen was badly damaged but still illuminated.

We thanked the very confused driver and left, smiling at each other with relief.

"Well, I've had my excitement for tonight. I'm heading to the dorms."

"Ditto." he agreed. "Could really use a shower."

I gave him a once over. "I'd say."

We rode by scooter back to the Agency, the Poriot building beautifully illuminated against the blue black sky. Parking the scooters a few blocks away, we walked past security, following the path back to the dorm.

"Thanks, Red." Paul said, once we reached our floor. "I know you must have questions…"

"She's not the only one."

I recognized the voice immediately, but we turned around slowly, facing a very irritated looking Chase Devineaux.

"In my office. Fifteen minutes." He looked us both up and down, sniffing. "This better be good."

"Yes sir." we choroused.

Entering our room, Paul opened his mouth but I rested a warning finger on his smooth lips, unsure if anyone was lingering outside of our door.

"How long would it take you to swap your communicator's data with mine?" I whispered.

"I'm not sure," he answered. "Why?"

"Do it, and leave me the cracked one." I placed mine on his desk. "Trust me."

Paul nodded wordlessly, and got to work. Meanwhile, I went to the bathroom to freshen up, brushing the alcohol tinge off my tongue as I thought of how best to frame the situation. As much as I was curious - and concerned - about the events of tonight, I already had enough details for my half truths. Any further information would cloud things with the emotions it would bring.

I met Paul downstairs. He was waiting with an escort, who I remembered seeing interning with the Director. Despite the fact that she was clearly sleep deprived I found her to be stunning, with high set cheekbones and blue gray eyes that blinked in mutual recognition.

"I know my way around." I told her cheerfully, adjusting the cracked communicator around my wrist. "No need for the royal treatment."

"The Director doesn't want you taking any detours." she explained.

"Now, why would I do that?"

"He told me you in particular might think you have a lifeline or two."

"No, probably not tonight." I playfully sighed, following her footsteps. "We both know anyone with real pull doesn't work weekends if they can help it."

She tittered, despite herself. "I hope you two make out okay. Devineaux is not happy."

"I don't think that's a feeling he experiences in general." After we shared a few more giggles, I slowed down, encouraging Paul to lag behind as well, just out of earshot.

"Leave the talking to me." I urged him. "No matter what."

"The transfer was incomplete, I didn't have enough time….I think we only swapped the interface and data for the last few hours."

"That's fine." I breathed. "If I sell the story well enough he won't dig."

"But if he does dig…."

"You'll be placed at the dorm and I'll deal with wherever you were at the time." I glanced at our escort, who was flirting with the Agent working the desk. "Don't worry."

He gave me an anxious nod, and said nothing more.

The intern led us down the hall, tapping on the Director's door softly. He unfrosted the glass, waving us in.

"Thank you, Natasha." he said, looking through a cabinet behind him and pulling out two pale yellow forms. She mouthed the words 'good luck' as she left.

"Have a seat." Chase began.

We did so slowly, watching as he wrote my name on top of one of the forms with his neat script, and then writing Paul's on the next, before stacking them both.

"Do either one of you know what these are?" His tone was deceptively light, and I saw as Paul swallowed. "Well?"

"Well, they say 'Termination of Employment' on the top." I read, unfazed.

"Very observant, Miss Rouge." He had purposely dropped the Trainee. "You see, at about 2300 hours this evening, the local police department received a few calls from concerned citizens about two teenagers either robbing or fighting a male - which would be bad enough - but one of the callers also advised that these two teens were seen sneaking behind him after leaving the alleyway of a bar called Cat's Cradle. So it's highly interesting to me how you two not only match the descriptions provided….but also returned to the dormitories looking disheveled and smelling of alcohol as well."

Paul and I exchanged a look.

"Start. Talking." He tapped his pen against the glass desk. I looked at it, the forms in front of him, and over at Paul before opening my mouth to speak.

"If you're going to get rid of me, I suppose that can't be helped." I began, with a small shrug. "But Paul has nothing to do with it. I was tired of being cooped up at home and decided to go out when I got into a scrape at the club. The guy we followed had robbed me of my wallet and communicator. I had a minor scuffle with him because of it." I showed him the cracked screen, which had my name and temporary shield number clearly displayed. "I would have never gotten my things back without his assistance. I'm sorry for encouraging him to come with me in the first place."

"Right. I'm supposed to believe this because…?"

"The truth always sounds the lamest." I responded. "But that's what it is. I'd never let a fellow Trainee take responsibility for my actions." I could sense Paul brimming with guilt at that last sentence, but I didn't dare look over at him - knowing that Devineaux would observe everything.

"And you agree with this, Leung?"

"He sure does." I replied forcefully, before he could answer in the negative.

The Director studied us both, pen still clinking lightly against the desk. Suddenly, he picked up Paul's form and tore it in half.

"Make this be your first and last time in this office, Leung." he said. "You are dismissed."

Paul stuttered out a thanks, his face a mixture of grief, relief and worry. I gifted him with a reassuring smile as he left.

"Walk me through your evening, Miss Rouge."

"Are you sure you want every detail?" I joked.

His expression was stony.

"Okay, okay - tough crowd. Well - I spoke to David Morris, felt a little down about what was going on with his dad...and wanted to…I don't know, be with a friend, get away from this place. I don't even like to drink, I'm such a lightweight, but The Castro is always a good time - just music and vibes. I had too much to drink, got sloppy... Paul helped me out like he always does." I looked down at my hands, folding them in my lap. "He deserves to be here."

Chase started filling out my form, the black gel pen moving smoothly against the paper. "At least that part is true. Paul Leung does deserve to be here."

"All of it is true." I refuted.

He stopped writing. "Don't insult me, Isabella."

I flinched at the use of my first name.

"This is my conundrum with you." he continued. "You're an exceptionally bright young woman who has been so indulged by the people around you at the Agency that you don't respect when and where that ends."

I remained quiet, unsure of what to say if anything.

"Do you want to be here?"

"Of course."

He picked up my paper. "Then start acting like it. This is the first and the last time I'm indulging you."

"Thank you, Director."

He tore it in half. "Don't thank me, Gumshoe. Letting you go would be wasted talent, but I'm willing to cut my losses if I see you in here again before graduation, no questions asked."

"Thank God you're back." Paul breathed, his arms wrapping around my torso as soon as I opened our room door.

"Oh, ye of such little faith." I grinned. "You really think Devineaux would get rid of the only bright spot in his life?"

"I don't know how to thank you."

"Don't." I yawned, noticing the sky outside was beginning to lighten. "You can tell me about your boyfriend instead and why he robbed you in the first place."

"Jacob's just a friend I hang out with."

"I saw you guys looking real friendly before the whole bathroom incident."

He blushed. "We have a little history…"

"So what went wrong?"

"Both of us got high in the bathroom. I know what you saw...and I'm a very light user."

I reflected on the three baggies of off white, flaky substance I had casually thrown away earlier. Despite Paul's attempts to downplay things, I knew from lingering around Narcotics as a kid when cocaine was 'stepped on' - cut with an additive that was often unknown to the user. What Jacob was carrying was almost fish scale quality - I had easily disposed of a few hundred dollars. I was curious as to why and how Paul's friend had access to it, but decided not to press forward.

"I did a bump, then he started an argument, talking about how I've changed since he's been here...how I've been distant…it got physical…" he trailed off, looking at me for a reaction but I gave him none. "I think I passed out at one point... Jacob probably freaked out, especially with the blood and took my things so no one could immediately identify me as ACME."

"Wow. And Devineaux thinks I'm the problematic one." I ribbed.

"Red...I really am sorry you got tied up in my mess…"

I waved it off. "You're my friend. Just promise me one thing."

"Anything."

"The next time you want to indulge in some toxicity, you wait until after graduation."

He laughed. "Deal."

Later that afternoon, I awoke, slightly hungover. I could hear Paul and Felipe talking on the other side of the wall. I smoothed out my bed head before getting up to greet them.

"Roja." Felipe began, his smile as immaculate as the rest of him. "Buenos dias, querida. We were worried about you last night when you disappeared and weren't answering any of us…I just came to see if you were okay."

"I'm sorry Felipe, I just became caught up with a friend I saw...lost track of time and ended up coming home after."

"Tan bien." The smile became suggestive. "I get it. It happens to the best of us." He turned to Paul. "So you still don't know anything about Morris?"

He shook his head no. "I checked the records, nothing more than just a 'leave of absence' without elaboration."

"Wait, are you talking about David?" I frowned. "Why didn't you guys just ask one of the Instructors what happened?"

"I asked O'Malley, he told me nada." Felipe lifted his muscular shoulders. "I thought maybe ACME finally caught on to him and let him go."

I beckoned to him to come inside. "What are you saying, Felipe?"

"Ay Roja, I'm saying…" he dropped his voice lower, "David isn't who we think he is. Matter of fact, I have a strong feeling like he's working for someone."

"Huh?"

"I know he is your friend, but I've been listening to his conversations in the common room. They've been odd...sometimes he will talk about bible verses, or lotto numbers...and he always carries a book with him when he's on the phone."

"So you think he's talking in code?" I asked.

"Exactamente."

"Book cipher." Paul supplemented. "Old school, but uncrackable if you do it right."

"Okay - but why? We don't have access to much as Trainees for him to be supplying information to anyone. Besides, who would he be working for?"

"No se. All I do know is that I wish I could have gotten a look at that book before he disappeared. But Morris was smart. He always had it covered and I could never find it in our room."

"David would be playing the long game, though." Paul reasoned. "Blend in with us during training and then once he's the real deal..."

I rubbed my aching temples. "This is crazy. David is our friend, remember? Not just mine." I turned away from them, grabbing clean clothes. "Excuse me, maybe I'm still drunk. I need to take a shower."

"Roja…" Felipe called, but I ignored him.

After giving myself a deep cleaning and dressing in the bathroom, I left the dorms, heading to the Fortress. Once inside, I took the stairs to the Instructors offices, but did not find O'Malley in his. Disappointed but undeterred, I went to the Poriot, batting my eyelashes at the day shift desk Agent who looked as if he only had a few more days until retirement. He informed me that O'Malley hadn't swiped in for the day. I finally resorted to sending him an email, annoyed when it immediately bounced back with an 'out of office' message. Out of options, I sat in front of the Poriot. Paul and I spotted each other at the same time. He walked over, sitting next to me.

"Red…."

"I talked to David." I cut him off abruptly. "O'Malley gave me his number. His father's terminally ill. He didn't want anyone to know except you and me."

Paul said nothing, studying a scuff mark on the tip of his right sneaker.

"Well?"

"I didn't want to say more in front of Felipe, but when I did my research into David, I saw that he was initially flagged for his associates during his background investigation - which isn't a big deal, actually most people are -

"How do you know that?"

He smiled modestly. "I poke around the database along with CrimeNet here and there. ACME really needs to upgrade their systems."

I laughed at Paul's version of misbehavior, despite myself.

"All right. What did you find out about David?"

"His dad, Ethan Morris, is in federal prison for drug trafficking and money laundering."

"And? It doesn't mean he isn't sick."

"No….but it is interesting that he was a part of Falcon, big time…"

"Which doesn't have anything to do with David." I reminded him.

"Right. But coupled with his suspicious behavior and him happening to befriend the daughter of the man who ran the organization…"

"Is irrelevant." I stood up, annoyed again. "Falcon disbanded in the late 90's, most of the key players - "

"Are alive, in prison, and still manage to have their hand in the criminal world honeypot. I don't know David's motive here, but if it was my guess... becoming friends with ACME's beloved stray would have its perks in avoiding suspicion. But getting close enough to convince her to turn, however…"

"Turn? Against the people who saved my life?" I scoffed.

"Red, we both know a lot of the Falcon framework still exists. If the organization is able to use the children of its core leadership to push them into the future...you'd be the heiress to a powerful empire."

The statement hung in the air for a moment.

"Built off of blood money. I'd never want anything to do with it."

"O'Malley says everyone has their price, Red."

I gave him a dirty look. "I feel if your hunch is true, the Agency would have already taken care of it. Why would O'Malley tell me to call him?"

"David never saw how bad your injuries were. That's probably why he left, he thought you weren't coming back. Maybe ACME is playing the long game as well, wanting to see what he's up to."

I paced back and forth in front of him, processing. I had to admit it was an interesting coincidence that we had become friends, and more so with our shared connection. But even with the behavior that Felipe observed and Paul's findings, his theory was shaky. Still, I decided to err on the side of caution and trust him.

"Okay. I need to talk to O'Malley first before we make any serious moves so we don't step on any toes. I can give you the number I called, see what you can find out."

Paul stood too, putting a hand on my arm. "Listen. I'm sure it's nothing, but it's better to be safe than sorry."

"You're right." I nodded. "Thanks."