I spotted Devineaux in the parking lot as we made it back to the Agency. We jogged up to him, ignoring his furrowed brows.

"Bonsoir, Isabella. Same to you, Paul." His tone was as cool as the evening breeze.

"Je suis sincèrement désolé, Directeur, I really am. I just - my Papa and I were supposed to have dinner tonight, it's been three hours and no one knows where he is. His phone's last location is just down the street. I'm so worried."

His annoyed expression quieted, molding into concern. "That's not like Hawkins." He put his car keys back into his pocket, turning towards the Poriot. "Come, both of you."

Devineaux sat us across from him in his office, giving us a crash course in leadership which I took in through watery eyes as the hours stacked up. He quickly mobilized a search team of Field Agents who canvassed the immediate area along with K9. Footage from the perimeter cameras of the Agency along with any other public access ones were being pulled for review. Simultaneously he reached out to local hospitals, while putting out a BOLO to local law enforcement for both my father and his vehicle.

After determining they should widen their radius, my Papa's gray Jeep was recovered, abandoned at the border of San Francisco heading towards San Mateo. Upon hearing this, he sent Paul back to the dorms, gently encouraging me to do the same.

"Isabella." His French was uncharacteristically soothing. "You need to eat and rest. They'll be searching through the night, and we'll get our own Aviation up if need be as soon as Wells returns."

"Non." I was surprised at how firm I managed to sound. "My father would never sleep if I was missing."

"Your daddy would want you to get a little shut eye, honey." a gruff voice agreed from the doorway. The tears began to leak unabashedly when I saw Gil's face. I gratefully buried my nose into his tobacco smelling shirt.

"You're still here?" I looked up at him, still clinging to his tree trunk of a torso. He wiped underneath my lower lashes with his calloused thumb. "I thought you were supposed to be on your assignment - "

"Do we have to change your name to little Devineaux? I'll get to it in the morning, boss." His ribbing teased a small smile onto my face. "I was just having a final night of freedom when I heard rumblings about who's responsible for our missing Detective."

"Cartel?" Devineaux asked.

"Falcon." He gave me an apologetic glance. "My source is a little inebriated, as am I, if I'm honest, but some enthusiastic youngin' was heard boasting how they've got one of our own tied up like a piggy for slaughter."

"Gilligan." Devineaux warned.

"Right." Gil's rough hand rubbed in-between my shoulder blades. "I'm an ass, Red. I'm sorry."

"I think it's best if you go back to the dorms for now, Gumshoe." Chase instructed. "You don't have enough emotional distance for this."

I felt the tears well up again. Gil cleared his throat.

"Ah, boss, I'll keep her for the night. It's too much for her to face her classmates and answer questions right now." Gil's weathered thumb passed over my cheek. "Would you like that?"

"I don't want Isabella off the campus if Falcon really is involved."

"I'm crashing in the Holmes building." Gil grinned, his not so pearly whites on full display. "Was hoping to have a different kind of female guest but glad to spend some time with my partner too."

Devineaux let out an exasperated sigh. "Gil. That's not official."

Gil winked. "Whatever you say, Dev. Let me escort my 'not partner' to our room and I'll double back?"

For the second time that day I entered the Holmes building, trailing Gil as he tapped on his phone, most likely still talking to the Director.

The floor that Gil was staying on was second from the top, way above David's comfortable prison cell. From here I was able to catch a glimpse of the sprawling campus below through a condensation covered window pane. I remembered our earlier talk about perspective, and admitted to myself that Devineaux had a point - because I currently lacked distance, I'd never see the bigger picture.

Gil was unusually self conscious as he unlocked the door. "Ah fuck, Red, I'm sorry about the mess. You can have the bed, or I can borrow one of the empty rooms down the hall for you if you'd be more comfortable somewhere else..."

I picked up a half empty bottle on the nightstand, giving it a sniff. The whiskey smell burned my nostrils. I grimaced.

"Good." He took the brown bottle from me, chuckling. "Don't get a taste for it. Are you hungry?"

I shook my head no, and he brought the bottle to his lips, taking a long swig. I sat on the futon style sofa, watching as he walked into the kitchenette, reappearing with a cold slice of pizza.

"Eat." he urged.

I nibbled at the tip of the slice, enough to assuage him. "Gil, I need to know the truth."

He took another swig. "What part of it?"

"They really want me."

"Off the table." His voice was hoarse. "Devineaux would never let it happen. Besides, no official credit has been taken, and no demands have been made."

"Will they hurt him?"

"Of course." Gil rummaged around in a small wash bag, pulling out an orange unmarked container. Pills rattled around inside as he opened it, offering me two. "Take these."

I raised an eyebrow.

"For sleep." he explained, resisting as I pushed his hand away. "Ah, Red. It does me no favors to sugarcoat anything, especially now that you're really entering this world. They won't kill him, he's their leverage, but it won't be pretty."

"It's not fair." I pushed his insistent hand away again. "My Papa didn't ask for this."

Gil relented. "Very few things are fair when it comes to this life. But I do know this. Your daddy would rather die before letting you fall into Falcon's hands again."

Gil had finally convinced me to swallow the two white pills. The last thing I remembered was him pulling a thin sheet over me with an unexpected tenderness before I slipped into a dreamless slumber.

Hours later, I was awoken by the quiet click of the door unlocking and Gil's muffled footsteps as he shuffled across the room. I felt his eyes on my still body.

"The trail went cold after they crossed the border into Mexico."

A single drop of emotion ran down my cheek, landing on the sheet with a soft pat.

"I'm going after them." I could hear Gil rustling through a knapsack on the floor. "They're flying me out in 30. That lost Weasley brother O'Malley is going to have to hold his own wherever he is."

I said nothing, looking through crossed lashes as Gil drew closer. The bed protested under his weight. "Talk to me, little one."

"I'm coming too." My words were scratchy, stuck inside the lining of my windpipe.

Gil's hand rested on top of mine. "I need you here."

"Why?" I asked, more sarcastically than I expected. "Are you going to tell Falcon to wait until I graduate before they hurt my father?"

"Well...Falcon still hasn't officially made contact. Which makes me wonder if they want to bait you, and if they succeed, they'll have you both."

I opened my eyes fully now, considering the situation. "And he has no value to them."

"Outside of you, no. So once they get what they want...they'll dispose of the extra baggage." I sat up, and Gil smoothed out my rumpled hair offhandedly. "So stay put. You'll be safe, you're going to finish up whatever you need to do, and then as soon as the ink is dry on your certificate, we're going to take Falcon down."

I nodded. Gil leaned over, pressing chapped lips against my clammy forehead. "Good girl."

After seeing him off, I went back to the dorms, ignoring the hushed speculations as they followed me down the hall. When I opened the door to my room, Paul and Felipe were inside, matching looks of sympathy on their faces.

I forced a cheery smile on mine. "What'd I miss today?"

Felipe looked over at Paul before saying, "We're taking another field trip in a few days, Roja. To Main Street."

Main Street was the Agency's version of the FBI's Hogan Alley. Named after one of the most popular street names in America, it was a fully functional mock village in which we ran through scenarios. During training, we had visited once - practicing hostage negotiation. Now we were to return for our final assignment.

It's always a bomb. I was told this by countless staff, who had whispered tidbits of their experience to me in passing. If this was to be the case for us, it was fine with me - I knew the explosive device was connected to a pressure plate, which would inevitably be tripped as we entered the premises. It would require at least one member of the unit to build a circuit bypass, knowing if they were unsuccessful, the whole team would be blown to pieces - the ultimate exercise in technical know how, steady nerves and trust.

Paul seemed to know what I was thinking. "We were told we were to have something new this year."

"So much for my cheat sheet." I grumbled.

Felipe snickered, showing obvious relief at my behavior. "It's to be you, me, Paul, y Liza for our group."

"Perfecto." I mirrored his Dominican accent. "The dream team."

We bantered for a while, successfully ignoring the elephant in the room until quiet hours began. Felipe excused himself, citing needing to get rest for the day ahead. Once he was gone, I released a large exhale.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about."

Paul seated himself to the right of me. I rested my head on his shoulder, noticing how his collarbone was less prominent than when we had first begun training.

"I can hear the wheels turning in your brain from here, Red."

"I need your help...in pulling a case file and a dossier."

"That's it?" Paul almost scoffed as he rose, reaching for his sliver laptop. "Who for?"

I reined him in by the elbow. "Mine."

His enthusiasm dampered. "Oh."

"I know I'm asking for a lot." I began.

"No - I can do it, it's not a problem - "

I cut into his protests. "It is going to be a problem if we get caught. A big one. Devineaux already mentioned that he knows you've been assisting me...I can't ask you to risk everything you've worked for at this point."

Paul tilted his head, his smile small but growing. "Guess that just means I'll have to be extra careful."

"Paul -

He tossed the notepad off his desk into my lap. "You're not the only one who loves a challenge. Now, what exactly are you looking for?"

I drew the beginnings of a tree chart with the runny ink of a broken pen. It smudged slightly as I passed the edge of my hand over it, printing the word Falcon on top. Underneath it all I created a timeline, writing the year 1970 at the very beginning as I rummaged my brain for the information to fill in with.

"Falcon was formed in the 70's, but was at the height of their power in the late 80's." I began, fitting this fact around Gil's story of Carmen going undercover as a young Detective. A part of me wanted to pull her dossier too - but while I could be given plausiblity for being curious about myself, there was no way that I could justify it for others. Instead I put her name at a notch around the '85 mark, and the word VILE closer to the end by '00. "They like to think of themselves as a family run organization, wanting to keep things within blood as much as possible."

Paul nodded. "I see they identified five main key players at the time. Samuel Morris, Xavier Colon, Bogdon Romanov, a female only known as 'Jade' and...Maximilian Vandestine."

My biological father. I wrote his name at the top of my tree, along with the others at the sides. "Wonder if David and I are cousins somehow?"

"Kissing cousins." Paul corrected slyly, ducking as I threw the pen cap at him. "But it seems like David's father Ethan is a younger brother of Samuel Morris. Not sure where he stands in relation to everyone else after that."

Next to the name Maximilian I drew a small cross, linking him to a 'Jane Doe'.

"What do you see about my sperm donor's wife?"

When Paul didn't immediately answer, I threw the remainder of the pen at him. The ink splattered as it flew, marking the path to the top of his navy sock.

"Sorry. A lot of this stuff is redacted..."

"What happened to that 'I love a challenge' energy?"

"Red." Paul answered patiently, nudging the leaking implement back in my direction with his toe. "I'll do what I can. In the meantime, what else can we establish?"

"Me." I wrote my name underneath the pairing with a nearby pencil, putting me and Gil on the timeline at '97. "Came to the Agency in the Spring of that year."

"ACME released the story of two Detectives finding a three year old in Newark to the press on April 19th. That's only a few days from now." He turned the screen towards me, showing me the headline.

I scribbled that down in the margins. "Falcon's very showy. They like anniversaries..."

"That explains the why..." He grew silent, eyes moving left to right at a rapid pace.

"What?" I prompted.

"David was right about you, you're the true outlier."

My ears burned. "What are you talking about...?"

"The only reason that you're here is..." He lowered the lid of his laptop slowly. "You killed someone."