I stumbled through the next day with limited success, and had no motivation to attempt it again the following morning. Still, I went through the motions in front of Paul, promising him at the last minute that I'd catch up with him at the Fortress. He passed me a look of quick skepticism but declined to comment, smoothing his poorly ironed shirt one final time in the doorway before leaving.

As soon as he exited I kicked off my boots, the pair sliding underneath the goalpost of my bed, scoring one point, then another. I then stripped off my navys, leaving them in a wrinkled pile in the seat of my desk chair. The lower dresser drawer was still halfway open. I reached into it, pulling out a hunter green pair of Champion sweatpants that was closest to the top, with its matching sweatshirt folded neatly underneath.

Now dressed in my AWOL uniform, I shrugged on the ACME raid jacket O'Malley had inadvertently gifted me so I could enter the Poriot without fuss. The sleeves hung long, but there was something reassuring in being able to withdraw into the garment.

Natasha greeted me as if I were an expected guest when I stepped off the elevator onto the twelfth floor.

"The Director should be free." she advised, getting up from her own desk to tap on the glass. He unfrosted it, waving me in with a nod.

"Je suis vraiment désolé." I began, realizing half way that I wasn't speaking English. "I just couldn't do it today."

"You need to be preparing for Main Street tomorrow, Trainee Rouge." he said, offering the seat in front of him all the same. "It's crucial that you complete that assessment for graduation."

"Je sais, je suis désolé." I apologized again. "I just…"

Devineaux's perennial frown seemed a lot more muted. "Do you like Ghirardelli's, Isabella?"

"Glace?" I glanced at the time on my communicator, swiping away an unopened message from Paul.

"Oui." If I had blinked any quicker I would have missed his smile.

"Bien sûr." I replied. "It's one of the first places Papa and I went to when we moved here…"

"Let's get some, then." He stood, buttoning his suit jacket. "I'll have Natasha contact your Instructors and excuse you for the day."

I didn't immediately follow. "What's the catch?"

This gave him pause. "Does there have to be one?"

I shrugged, playing with the stubborn zipper on my jacket a few times until I was finally able to pull it upward.

"We can call it a ride along if you wish. Perhaps we'll encounter a teachable moment so a day of instruction won't have been totally wasted for you."

I shifted, the memory of my last ride along still in the forefront of my mind. Misreading my discomfort, he added, "I need a change in scenery, and you need an escort to go off campus to do the same."

"How symbiotic." I replied, miffed by his reminder.

"You're too young to be this skeptical."

"Je dis ça, je dis rien."

It was still too early for the chocolate factory-turned marketplace to be open, so we took a detour down Hyde St into Aquatic Park. It was odd to see the Director out of his natural habitat as he navigated the area with familiarity, finding us a seat on an oak and metal bench not too far away from the cable car turnabout. The small brass plaque on the upper slats of the seat was tarnished by age and curious fingers, but it's message was still visible:

My love waits there in San Francisco

Above the blue and windy sea

When I come home to you, San Francisco

Your golden sun will shine for me

"Tony Bennett." Devineaux spoke, after listening to me read the inscription aloud.

I nodded with a wistful smile - my Papa had played I Left My Heart in San Francisco on vinyl a few times for me to set the tone for our move.

"Where is home for you?"

"Cow Hollow." he replied offhandedly, eyes scanning the crowd of tourists as they disembarked the trolley and dispersed into the morning. I couldn't immediately tell if it was a force of habit or conscious intent.

"That's where you live." I corrected him. "I'm asking where you're from."

He now diverted his attention towards me, seeming to relax as he did so. "Much like yourself, my origins are complicated…but I did enjoy a childhood in New England."

"Complicated how?"

His mouth was slightly parted as he mulled over the question. "My older brother Andrew and I don't share the same father. When that man found out about my mother's indiscretion he put me and her out of their home."

"How old were you?"

"Too young to remember, Isabella, but still old enough to be affected by the upheaval." He glanced at the forming crowd for the incoming cable car before continuing. "My mother was a homemaker with limited skills, so she initially struggled to find employment. We did live near my brother with her sister in law, but that relationship became strained once the divorce was finalized..."

"So you moved again."

"In with my grandparents." Devineaux's gaze lingered on a shapely woman whose face was shaded by a wide brimmed hat. "However, they lived a few hours away, so it became difficult to maintain a connection with Andrew...even more so when his father remarried."

I touched his forearm tenderly, surprising the both of us. "Did you ever look for your biological father?"

"It never occurred to me to." His reply wasn't exactly honest, and he acknowledged my dubious reaction. "I was conceived during a night of lowered inhibitions unintentionally by a man passing through the area. I have my answers to the how and why of the matter, so I have nothing to really gain by seeking."

"Not even to satisfy your curiosity?"

"La curiosité est un vilain défaut." He now shrugged. "It would serve no purpose."

"I respect it, but I've always wanted to know about my mother." I drew my leg up under me, nestling into my jacket as the salty breeze tickled the tip of my nose. O'Malley's aftershave faintly lingered by the collar, and I inhaled a little bit more of its cedarwood scent. "I love Papa more than anything but…it would bring me some closure, I guess."

"I understand." The woman he had been studying removed her cover, revealing freshly blown out chestnut hair. She seemed annoyed by the wind, quickly gathering her locks with a hair clip and finding a seat in the interior of the car.

"Do you know anything about her?"

He shook his head, doing a second take when he realized who I was really talking about. "You mean your mother?"

I couldn't help but smirk. "I mean she's pretty but…"

"That female over there looks very similar to a photo posted on CrimeNet for someone wanted in connection to a narcotics ring operating by the Pier. You know you are supposed to be checking the front page periodically to keep up with these things,Trainee."

"And there's my lesson for the day." I teased. "Don't become a suspect if you're easy on the eyes."

He quietly snorted in agreement. The trolley bell clanged twice, indicating its intent to move.

"Are we going to tail her?"

"There's no need for us to." His phone was in his hand, snapping a picture of the vehicle as it made its way up the street. "I have a Detective on it, and I promised us both a day off."

"You really meant it, huh?"

Devineaux smiled, a bit of unexpected warmth amongst the chill. "A young lady once told me the measure of a person was the strength of their word."

"She sounds smart." I grinned.

"She has her moments." He returned his phone back to his pants pocket, and then stretched out his sinewy arm across the top of the bench. "But to answer your question...I don't have a lot of information regarding the Falcon case. I had left the Agency around the beginning of the investigation for personal reasons."

"Because Carmen was sleeping with my bio-father?"

"Tread lightly, Gumshoe. When former Detective Sandiego did go undercover within Falcon, it was difficult to become accustomed to a new partner, so I separated from the Agency to do private work."

"Mouais, d'accord." I folded my arms.

"Those are the facts of the matter. My apologies if they don't live up to the salaciousness of the rumors."

I glanced at my communicator, swiping away yet another message from Paul.

"Answer your friend, Isabella, and then let's see if we can finally get some ice cream for our walk."

I licked hot fudge off the back of a plastic spoon as we walked through the square. Paul had messaged me yet again, and Devineaux raised an eyebrow as I flicked the notification away for the umpteenth time.

"I know he just wants to check on me. It's just the chances of him even believing what I'm doing right now are slim to none anyway."

"Fair point." Devineaux chuckled, having another taste of his own chocolate and whipped cream confection.

We continued with our stroll, my annoyance with Paul's persistence fading as I finished the last of my sundae. I finally swiped down on the notifications that were beginning to pile, placing a tentative palm on the Director's arm as a signal for a pause.

"We've got to go back to the Agency. Paul's saying our dorm has been ransacked."

Devineaux's brown brows touched, as he pulled out his cell phone, nodding slightly as he waded through his own alerts.

"Any way this might be something internal? A prank of sorts?"

"Of course not." I scowled. "Paul even reported his laptop as stolen."

"I did see that." Devineaux began to scrape the bottom of his cup, cell phone back in his front pocket.

"Pardon, don't you think we should get going?"

He smiled slightly. "Here is our teachable moment for the day - delayed gratification."

I shook my head. "Comment?"

"Do you have anything of significant value at that location?"

"No, but -

"Are you under the impression that this will not be swiftly investigated and appropriately managed?"

"I mean, of course but -

"Did Paul indicate to you he was injured in any way?"

"No, I mean, I'm assuming he was in class when it happened but -

"Listen to me. Paul is safe. I promise. And so are you, Isabella."

"But -

"Did you hear me, Gumshoe? Paul is safe at the Academy, and you are safe here with me. Now I want you to say it."

My eyes narrowed.

"Are you ignoring a direct order, Trainee Rouge?"

"Fine." I snapped. "Paul is safe at the Academy, and I'm safe too."

"You're safe here with me." he corrected gently. "But I'll take it."

I threw my empty container into a nearby garbage can with excessive force, standing defiant against his reproachful look as he disposed of his own.

"You have people to make proud tomorrow, Gumshoe. Main Street is a critical assessment for graduation. There is enough weight on you with your personal circumstances. We will not be adding a situation that is nothing more than a distraction you can't afford. Am I clear?"

I sighed. "Yes, Director."

"Good." Devineaux's smile resumed. "So, where else do you like to go in the City besides Cat's Cradle?"

Devineaux had decided to keep me for the night instead of us returning to the Agency, a choice I found interesting but allowed to occur nonetheless out of mere curiosity to see how the Director lived.

"I have a cat." he said as he opened the door to a long hallway. "I'm sure you don't mind."

"I thought you weren't a fan of creatures that shed." I removed my shoes, placing them on a rack underneath a large reprint of a Rothko painting. Its shades of blue, green and white were echoed throughout the lofted apartment.

"As you know, Isabella, it is Agency tradition to keep a cat to chase bad spirits away. Besides, Cairo is a Sphinx."

Cairo's sleek body turned the corner as he spoke, coming to investigate. I grinned when I saw him, unabashedly sitting on the tiled floor and ushering him into my lap. Well socialized, he obliged, showing me his belly after a few moments as a sign of trust. His skin was velvety, a white body with four gray socks on his paws.

"Weird to think that there was a time where humans worshiped these things."

Devineaux scoffed. "When did we ever stop?"

I stood as Cairo went to his food bowl, now sitting on a stool at the bar counter that separated the kitchen and the living room from one another. I allowed my legs to dangle as I spoke.

"How am I supposed to explain this to the others, boss?"

"You were excused to deal with matters concerning Hawkins and went to your personal apartment for the night." He put on water in an electric kettle. "Tea?"

I nodded. "I was okay with taking a cab to the Agency. I would have never put you out of your way especially when you were so understanding today…"

"I'm not putting a minor in a vehicle alone at this hour."

"Now I'm a minor?" I choked down a laugh. "I think I can more than handle myself."

He reached into the dishwasher for two stout mugs, setting them on the counter between us. "Mm."

I frowned at the noncommittal reply. "I know they found nothing in regards to the break in."

Devineaux dropped in the lavender scented tea bags. He then christened them with hot water, spooning out honey from a nearby jar and methodically stirring it in. "I believe I've told you several times today to leave it alone."

"You know I can't."

"I've seen that attitude become a Detective's downfall."

"You're treating me like a victim and not a colleague. I don't think it's fair that you're obviously concerned enough that you feel the need to babysit me, but don't think you should give me the courtesy of telling me why."

"Merely precautionary."

"So why not the same for Paul?"

He took a small sip. "Is that an actual question, or a small gripe?"

I exhaled, taking the still too hot cup into my hands. "You could have left me in the Holmes building like you did with him."

"Too risky, with David there."

"How is David a risk?"

The Director's eyebrow arched. "Maybe more of a distraction than a risk…"

"There's that distraction word again."

"I heard about your visit."

I shrugged, unashamed. "I did what I had to do to get what I needed."

"Isabella, if you're going to operate like that, you're going to have a long road ahead of you."

"I'm down for the ride, Devineaux."

He smiled in spite of himself. "You'll get your answers after Main Street, Gumshoe. I promise. It will probably be nothing by then, but I will let you know when you need to know."

It seemed like that would have to be good enough for tonight, and I let him know that I accepted his answer with a single nod, finally drinking some of the cooled liquid which matched my lukewarm satisfaction.

I slept surprisingly well on the pull out couch in Devineaux's living room, lulled to rest by the rhythmic sloshing of the washing machine and Cairo's contented purring as he kneaded biscuits by my head. Nonetheless, I was still in a new environment, and I woke up before the Director. I took the opportunity to freshen up myself before putting on my outfit from yesterday that was still deliciously warm from the dryer. I could hear him moving upstairs as I made coffee, the first rays of the day stretching over the Bay and into his home.

"Bonjour." he greeted, spreading out two rubber mats by the window. I poured another cup of coffee, setting it on a nearby desk as we saluted the sun in unison. Afterwards I sat on the mat in half lotus, eyes half closed, savoring the moment of peace.

"Are you ready for today?" Devineaux softly queried, helping me to my feet.

"Yes. Thank you for everything."

"There's no need to thank me. You made a very sound decision in realizing you needed to recoup. I'm generally supportive of my employees taking the time to do such." His hazel eyes were kind. "Let's get to work."

I met up with my team on the steps of the Fortress. We were outfitted in our 'tacticals' today - navy 5'11 cargo pants and a matching short sleeved polo with the ACME insignia on the right, and the 'triangle of excellence' on the left shoulder. We had the option of wearing a matching hat which I did, threading my long braid through the hole in the back.

"I'm glad to be out of the monkey suit, even if these are equally as unflattering." Liza sniffed.

"You look good in everything." I half-teased. "Besides, who would you want to be all dolled up for?"

"Anyone without a wedding ring." Felipe answered, greeting the three of us with two kisses on each cheek.

Their combined energy was always contagious. I had my first genuine pearls of laughter in days, doubled over in the backseat as Liza and Felipe cajoled the Agent who was our driver into pulling into a drive thru before taking us to our final destination.

Gaston greeted us at the gate.

"Welcome." His voice boomed. Meija, who was at his side, handed us identical black bookbags. "You will find everything you need for this assignment in these bags. As a reminder, you will be graded as a unit and for individual performance. You can use the schoolhouse as your staging area. Good luck."

The school house was the first building to the left upon immediately entering the village. We were to consider this our 'base', a place where we could plan before entering the scenario. Pushing open the door, we entered the building, immediately emptying our bags in the lobby. Flipping through the pages of the instructions, I almost snickered with relief.

"Art crimes?" Felipe scoffed.

I had to agree - the assignment had laid out a scenario where several paintings had been taken, and we were to determine which one would be next and safeguard it in the museum. This would be easy work for Liza, who specialized in art forgeries in her previous work, and knew a lot about that world. Once reviewing the information about the previous targets and reviewing the collection at the Main Street Museum, we decided the painting to safeguard would be

L'homme est en mer, one of Van Gogh's most expensive paintings, which fit the pattern of our thief's habits of targeting works from the artist.

Yet I could hear Gil admonishing me, saying eyes up, in his gruff tone. As Felipe laid out a plan to secure the building, my mind wandered, eyes resting on a bulletin board with multicolored notices advertising and informing visitors of ongoings in the neighborhood. Paul followed my gaze, stopping Felipe once I had gotten up for a closer look.

"A private collector is having a showing of Harvest at La Crau around the same time as the event." I read. "That's Van Gogh, right?"

"It does not have the same value as the painting here." Liza frowned, which Paul confirmed with a quick search on CrimeNet. Still, it cast enough doubt on things for us to pull out the assignment again, studying the paintings that were taken.

"The thief hasn't taken any portraits before." Felipe noted.

"Of course." Liza almost scowled. "How could I have missed it? All the paintings are from his Arles period. Everything here, including L'homme, is a portrait."

"Even so." Paul said diplomatically. "We have the resources to sit on both."

"Perfecto." Felipe agreed. "Roja y tu, and me with Liza?"

"I like it." I said, nodding. "Paul and I can head over to this address, and talk with the owner?"

"Yes." Liza answered. "Keep us advised."

Main Street functioned like a real village, and we waited for the next light rail to take us across the town to the address on the flier. On the way, I noticed a male studying us out of the corner of his eye, shifting slightly when I glared in response, letting him know I was aware of what he was doing.

"Red." Paul whispered. "This is a mock scenario, not the BART."

I shook my head. I knew, of course, we were being observed, but this man's aura did not sit well with me.

"Do we have anything to talk about?" I nudged, wondering about Paul's unusual silence.

"Not about anything other than this assignment for right now."

"Oh." He had a good point - Main Street probably wasn't the best venue to discuss the break in. "Are you okay, at least?"

"I'm not hurt physically. I would say that's a good thing, right?"

"Yeah." I was miffed by his slight attitude. "That's always a plus."

The light rail left us a block away from 55 Pine St, which was a large, southern style home with a wraparound porch. The lawn, like the rest of the village, was immaculate. The landscapers gave us a brief nod of respect as we passed, their large hats shading their faces from the California sun.

Paul cleared his throat before ringing the doorbell. There was no answer, and as he rang again, I peeked into the window. The house was all dark shadows, but I could see quiet movement at the corner of the room. I turned back to him.

"Someone's home. I'm going to check the perimeter."

"I'll talk to the laborers and see what they know."

I nodded and took my leave, focused on the windows and the trellises, seeing if they made any feasible entry points into the home out of sheer habit. I was distracted enough not to notice a slight figure creeping up behind me until I felt the heat of their breath almost on the back of my neck. I whirled around, greeted by the sight of one of the gardeners from earlier. He lurched forward, but my body acted before my mind did, and I dodged the attack, running towards the front of the property and calling Paul's name repeatedly.

"Red - they're shooting!"

I heard the loud pops in the distance and flanked myself against the wall.

"How many?"

"Two males, inside the house!"

"You hit?"

*Negative." Paul answered through gritted teeth. "I'm calling for backup."

The gunfire was too loud, too acrid for a training exercise. I didn't know if Paul had realized the same thing, but I had to act quick.

"Keep an eye on the exit but fall back. I'm going in."

I heard Paul's protest intermingled with the sound of broken glass as I shattered the window. I climbed in through it, the shards glittering in the semi dark sitting room. My idea had worked, and taken the focus off of Paul and put it on me, but I was alone and unarmed. Quickly, I crouched behind a large sculpture of a terracotta Chinese soldier, one I could briefly remember seeing during my travels. It was crumbling slightly, and I noted with amusement that ACME had paid such attention to detail. Then I took stock of my situation. l had the element of surprise on my side, and planned to use it to my advantage until help came.

The shooting had stopped, and there was a silence that felt as if the home itself was holding its breath. One pair of boots came barreling down the stairs, and after a few minutes, so did another, but with less gusto. I heard them examine the window, watched as they swept the room, and held my breath as one pair of steps drew nearer.

"I'm going to check the kitchen for the girl." The other voice said, tinged with a North African accent.

"Quickly." The one nearest to me urged. His voice was disturbingly familiar. "We don't have much time, her partner already called for backup."

As I heard the other male leave, I chanced a peek, my heart sinking when I realized who was in front of me.

"You have some nerve." I said, the disbelief making me brave enough to stand up and dust off my knees. "What are you thinking?"

O'Malley pointed the handgun at me, the green dot trained directly on my chest. Despite everything, I began to laugh.

"You're right." Sean acknowledged. "You know I need you in one piece. Your friends, however…."

"Collateral damage." The African man joined him now. He had a compact but muscular frame, and cradled his rifle expertly. "So you decide."

"You're bluffing."

O'Malley shrugged. "Okay. I remember you are particularly fond of that Asian boy - Paul? We can shoot him first. Remember, Red, prison is Falcon's playground, and it won't bring him back."

It was such an obvious manipulation of my emotions, yet I knew that O'Malley was desperate and might resort to violence to get his way. I couldn't take the chance.

"Okay." I put both hands up slowly. "I'm yours."

O'Malley and the African forced me to change into riot gear in a false closet used for raid exercises in the pantry of the kitchen at gunpoint. The three of us then blended into the confusion which surrounded the premise. An ACME van was waiting nearby, and they pushed me into the back of it before I could even get a proper look around for Paul. I had no idea who was who in the cacophony, and as much as I wanted to cause a scene, I was nervous that O'Malley had other company ready to act if I did. The African took the front seat, and O'Malley got to work on me, taking off the helmet and binding my hands and feet with thick rope. He then forced my mouth open by pinching my nose for several minutes, stuffed a wad of fabric in it and taped it shut.

"I'm sorry." he murmured.

I narrowed my eyes in response. O'Malley removed my Communicator, tossing it out the window unceremoniously onto the roadside. Like a twisted magician, he produced a blindfold, holding me steady with a powerful grip as he slipped it over my eyes.

"Trust me." he breathed into my hair. "I've got you."

I had no choice but to believe him for the moment, and I allowed my body to go slack, paying close attention to the motion of the vehicle, the speed, and any other clues that might give a hint about our direction. O'Malley, seeing that I was temporarily docile, took a seat next to me on the sawdust covered floor of the van. The engine was just loud enough for him to brave conversation, and he did so now, his words warm but hurried in my left ear.

"We're still on the same team, Red, no matter what you might see me say or do from this point on."

I drew away from him, but he held my shoulders in both of his hands. "Falcon had an old grudge to settle, and intended to do it through you. But David's son was supposed to be the decoy and take the fall for what I'm doing." I began to wriggle in his grasp with fury, and he smacked me across the face, subduing me with surprise.

"I'm sorry - Red - just listen. We're going to VILE."

VILE? I shook my head in disbelief.

"Two factions of the underworld formed after Falcon originally disbanded, and as you know, VILE's been our most formidable opponent. Many ex-Falcon members have joined VILE, and like you and David, the children of the original founders want nothing to do with its continuation." The van was slowing down, and O'Malley began to speak quickly. "VILE has been suppressing Falcon in its own way, and Ethan Morris was giving them the information to do that. I helped him disappear for his safety. As far as Falcon knew, we were both in the wind...until now." The vehicle now pulled to a stop, and O'Malley patted my cheek which was still smarting. "I can't say anymore now, but remember Red - same team."

My flesh prickled at the sudden cold, and I was thrown over O'Malley's shoulder and onto what felt like the floor of a cargo plane. I could hear a familiar woman's voice question him with disdain.

"Really, gentlemen. I don't feel like a fifteen year old girl should be tied up like this."

"That's no average fifteen year old." Sean reminded her. "But if you insist, Ms. Sandiego, I'll cut her loose."

"Please." The voice was closer now, smooth and almost teasing. "It would be dreadful to keep her like this the whole flight."

O'Malley gently pulled the duct tape from my mouth and removed the blindfold. I blinked, feeling the plane taxi as I took in my surroundings. With a black bladed knife he cut the rope in between my legs, and loosened the knots around my arms. Carmen nodded in approval.

"Much better. I am sorry, Detective, about the rude introduction. This is not how I generally like to treat my guests." She outstretched a gloved hand, but I ignored it, rubbing my sore wrists together.

"I'm not a Detective, and definitely not your fuckin' guest."

"Easy!" O'Malley snapped, from the front of the cabin. He tossed a sealed bottle of water in my direction. It landed harmlessly in my lap. "Wash out your mouth with that."

"It's fine, Sean. Isabella has every right to be upset."

I stood now, my body hot. The plane was picking up speed, and was starting to ascend.

"Don't call me that. You don't even know me."

O'Malley was over by me in a few strides, pushing me back into a webbed seat with a warning look.

"Behave." he reminded under his breath, clearly exasperated. "Or I'll sedate you."

I noted as Carmen quietly took it all in, and gave him a dirty look as I complied. He stepped away, joining the African male who was in an area which was transformed into a small galley in the back.

The plane we were on was a Spartan C-27J, which had a dual-rotor, free-turbine power section with a propeller gearbox. It was currently configured to carry both passenger and cargo in its pressurized cabin, although I could not make out what we were traveling with. I had been on one once before, with my father in Georgia, and knew it took an extremely skilled pilot to fly, at least a two person team with a loadsman.

"I mean no harm, Red, despite appearances." She removed her gloves now, revealing freshly painted crimson nails. "And as I'm sure you know, I would never do anything to cause injury to a member of ACME."

"Yeah, I've heard." I replied acidly. "Although shooting live rounds at and then kidnapping one sure gives off a different impression."

"Unorthodox methods for an unorthodox situation. My apologies."

"What do you want from me, Carmen?"

She examined her cuticles before answering.

"You're inadvertently in the middle of a situation that you neither asked to be in nor have any control of. I'm sure you're aware of Falcon."

"Very aware." I sighed, suddenly weary. "What are you going to do with me?"

"Keep you safer than ACME could." The woman's demeanor was now suddenly steely. "You're a symbol of Falcon's downfall, and it would be a great insult to those of us who helped bring them to their knees if anything were to happen to you."

"Something did already happen to me." I reminded her. "And now it's not only me who's caught up - someone has my Papa too. I need to find him."

Carmen nodded. "If you promise to do as you're told, I promise to make that happen."

I was tired of hearing that statement, but I wasn't about to argue. I didn't care who found him first, and the more bodies searching, the better.

"Then I promise."