"I know a little about it." I told the thief as we walked the perimeter of the home. "My roommate, Paul, told me it's ACME tinkering with time travel. What would Falcon want with that?"

"It would be an invaluable tool for anyone to be able to rewind time."

"I suppose so." The explanation left me wanting, but I decided to be friendly to keep the conversation flowing. "It's something of interest to you as well?"

Carmen nodded, the ocean breeze intermingling with her dark curls. "My intelligence tells me it is working, in small capacities. It would be impressive technology for VILE to be able to further study and utilize..."

"So you could steal the monuments as they are made?" I questioned, but with a smile.

She returned my grin. "I might use it for a caper or two."

"So that's it, then." I reasoned aloud. "You'll exchange me for the Chronskimmmer with ACME. What do you want from Falcon?"

"An even exchange."

"Hm." I raised an eyebrow. "A body for a body."

"Right."

My nose wrinkled. "Whose?"

The corner of her ruby mouth turned upward knowingly. "I think you can figure out who I might have in mind."

My biological father. "That doesn't sound very non-violent of you."

"Different games, different rules." She stopped, both of us taking in the view of the endless sea from the back of the home.

"I have one more question."

She chuckled. "I have one more answer."

"My mother. What was she like?"

Carmen put a gentle hand on my shoulder. "What do you remember?"

I closed my eyes. "Warmth. Contentment. A beautiful voice."

"All good things." she murmured.

"She was a Jane Doe." I opened my eyes again, now faced with the sheet of water that rippled and crashed against the shoreline. "ACME has never been able to identify her, or find a body."

"Interesting."

I turned to her. "You know her name."

Carmen now sighed, from deep within her chest. "I knew her as Danica Megen Rosa. Possibly from South America - she had an accent. We did not have much interaction, so I don't have any further details."

I gave her a thankful squeeze. "I know it may not make sense, but sometimes I feel like she's out there still."

"It makes sense, Isabella. Never deny your intuition." Carmen studied my face. "You look like her. The hair, the eyes, and your smile."

A small tear escaped, and I quickly wiped it away. "I'm going to find her, when all this is over."

"She's going to love getting to know you, when you do." Carmen touched my arm affectionately. "Come. Let me show you the rest of the home."

I followed Carmen past the infinity pool and back inside for the end of the tour. Afterwards, she excused herself, saying she had business to attend to. I went upstairs to mull over the information I had received, and decided that although I felt Carmen was genuine, at the end of the day, she would act in her best interests. The chances of Falcon giving up my father for me to Carmen are a lot more likely than her getting hands on the Chronskimmmer.

Something about that bothered me as well. ACME worked on a lot of experimental technology, most of it in its early stages. It was never of any interest to me, or my forte, for that matter, but Paul would share tidbits about it from time to time. What's the big deal around this project in particular? I could easily see the use that Carmen would have for it, but for Falcon less so. Still, there had to be something of value that ACME had that the organization wanted, otherwise Carmen would have told me the obvious alternative off the bat - Falcon would dispose of me if they didn't get their way.

Either way, although Carmen had softened my heart, she could not soften my resolve to get off the island and back to San Francisco. During our walk, I did see that the seaside home seemed impenetrable, which shouldn't have come as a surprise - as my Papa would say the best locksmith is a thief. I would have to learn the patterns of the home and bide my time for any chance of escape.

In the meantime, I prepared for my moment by keeping myself fit. I woke with the sunrise, taking a well supervised swim in the ocean for about an hour before coming in for a quick breakfast. Afterwards, I would run laps around the perimeter, rest, then I would go join the laborers in the fields, who were happy for an extra set of hands, no matter who they belonged to.

When I wanted to cool off from the island sun I would seek out Marionette, following her around the home in the common areas as a chatty shadow as she worked. The woman was initially standoffish, probably cautioned by her employer not to give too much away, but I managed to charm her into lowering her defenses. She was from the French countryside, much like my Papa, and warmed to me as I spoke about my time in the Alps while she showed me how to properly make a bed.

"You know what I've been craving? A cassoulet." I said, sitting back on my legs for a moment, taking a break from polishing the floor.

Marionette smiled, stopping to wipe her brow as she dusted the shelves in my room. "My mama used to make it the best, with duck breast and pork sausage."

"My papa would make it, cooking the pork in duck fat." I licked my lips, feeling a true pang of homesickness that must have appeared on my face.

Marionette must have noticed, because she then said, "I will go to the chef. We are to have some supplies come in from the mainland."

"When?"

" Euh...I'm not exactly sure. We will ask the chef after we're done here."

A blend of excitement and relief mingled in my chest. I was ready for my chance, no matter what the outcome at this point.

After Marionette deemed the room spotless, we made our way down to the kitchen, which had two parts - the working, restaurant style section, and one for light snacks and brunch. The chef in charge was a heavyset Italian man named Antonio. Although we weren't to speak, he wordlessly always had some culinary delight at the end of a utensil for me to try. Today was no different, as he greeted Marionette, and offered me the filling of some pastry straight from the frosting bag.

"Antonio, ma cher." she almost sang. If I didn't know better, I'd think she was flirting. " Isabella wishes you to make a cassoulet one evening."

He smiled at both of us, his cheeks round and ruddy. " Ma certo. The plane will be coming next week Tuesday from the mainland with supplies. I'll add the ingredients to the list, si, and make the best cassoulet you ever tasted for you beautiful ladies."

"That's what I'm hoping for." I said, and he motioned for me to open my mouth again, squeezing some more filling in the corners of my cheeks. Marionette giggled and thanked him, and we went back upstairs.

"He likes you." I teased, laughing as her face flushed. She swatted me with a towel that was tucked into her apron and I laughed harder, running upstairs to my room. As soon as I closed the door however, I sobered, sitting on the floor with my back against it. I had only a small window to make my shot, and I didn't want to blow it.

Because I had established a semblance of a routine, I decided to feign sickness a few mornings later when I found spotting in my underwear, citing overwhelming nausea and choosing to stay in bed. In a place where the only marker I had for the passage of time was the rhythm of nature, I found it apt as a reminder of an approximate date.

I couldn't help but be touched by the reaction of the staff. Marionette brought me up a tray with ginger tea with lemon, with macaroons in my namesake color from Antonio. In a vase were a matching bunch of hibiscus flowers, which were from the laborers. I tucked one behind my ear as I read an early edition of the Wizard of Oz, escaping from my predicament by putting on Dorothy's ruby shoes.

There was a light knock on my door.

"Marionette just come in, I told you that -

"Sorry to disappoint you."

I looked up briefly at the woman, still dressed in her iconic trench coat and tilted fedora.

" Bienvenue. Welcome home." I greeted.

"I heard you were feeling unwell." she said, removing her hat to reveal her concerned face fully. "Do you need medical attention?"

"What? No." I shook my head adamantly. "It's just my monthly."

"Your…?"

"Period." I explained. "On the first few days I always feel terrible."

"Oh." Carmen came closer to me, resuming her amused look. "I see many here have taken a liking to you. I've heard you've been very helpful."

I shrugged. "It's better for me to keep busy."

"Idle hands are the devil's playthings." Carmen quoted. "But I'm sure you've been told, a lot of your career will be spent observing and waiting. It's only slivers of action that will intersperse that boredom."

"Well, if I can't take it anymore, I could always start up a criminal organization of my own." I teased.

"I think I've cornered the market on that." she gently ribbed back. "Isabella, I have returned with some good news. ACME has found your father in Nicaragua and he's been rescued."

I gasped, slamming the book in my lap shut. "Oh, Carmen, please. I have to see him."

"He is in critical but stable condition." she explained. "They found him severely dehydrated, bruised, and incoherent. It's going to be a few weeks before he can take visitors, much less unauthorized ones."

"There must be a way. Please. Even if I can't see him, just to let him know I'm okay."

She gave me a pained look. "I'll see what I can do."

I ignored her, reopening the novel in my hands and turning a page loudly for emphasis.

"I'm unsure whether to keep you here or not." Carmen mused aloud. "While it is certainly comfortable, I fear without their leverage, Falcon will be more persistent in their goal, and there are not as many methods of immediate egress as I would like."

I turned another page. "Then send me back to ACME."

"I've met goats less stubborn than you, Detective." She shook her head. "But I do acknowledge you might be feeling homesick. O'Malley has been staying in the Irish countryside. It would be good for both of you to speak."

"I have nothing to say to him." I finally spoke. "And please don't humor me as if I have a choice in the matter."

Carmen patted my leg gently. "Get your rest, Isabella. You're going to need it."

A sniffling Marionette admitted later that ' Madame Sandiego' had returned because there was a credible threat against the island. The cargo plane that was supposed to be arriving was intercepted, and they were going into lockdown.

"Will you be coming with us too when we leave?"

She shook her head. " Non. We will be sheltering on the island." She went into the walk-in closet, removing a few items and rolling them tight so that they could fit in a small crossbody style bag.

"You will be leaving tonight."

"Do you know how?"

"The first portion of your journey will be by sea." she explained, now laying out a thick sweater, a knit scarf, and a travel jacket that was still in its carry on bag. "You will be needing these."

I thanked her, and she began to sniffle more profusely.

"You will be very missed, cherie. Good luck with everything." She held me close to her warm body and patted my hair. I hugged her in return, realizing this would be the last time we would probably ever see each other. I could feel eyes on us. When Marionette finally released me, I could see Carmen in the doorway watching patiently. Marionette turned to her.

"She is ready." she said, smoothing my hair one more time. "Please be careful, Madame."

"But of course, Marionette. This is precious cargo."

We boarded a sleek yacht, which appeared gray in the moonlight. The windows were heavily tinted, but from the cabin I was still able to watch as we cut through the calm water.

"The ocean is cooperative tonight." Carmen observed, sitting next to me. "When daylight approaches, we will be able to put up the sails and take advantage of the wind."

I wondered to myself briefly about the similarities between sailing and flying, and asked her, "Would I be able to go in the…cockpit...I guess?"

She laughed gently, correcting me. "Wheelhouse. And I'm afraid not, Isabella. For your safety, it would be best if you stayed below deck."

I grumbled. Despite the circumstances, I had never been on a boat for such a long period of time, and couldn't help my curiosity. Also, it would be a good chance to see where we were going. Like a plane, it appeared that we were traveling light in order to carry more fuel, but it seemed as if we were doing it to power the boat's speed rather than for distance. If we were leaving from near Hawaii, as I thought, we'd eventually have to stop in the American Samoas or Fiji to refuel or to board a plane for the next leg of our journey.

I hoped for the former - there was no way I would allow myself to be transported halfway around the world, especially to a country that I would easily be spotted in as a foreigner, and I planned on running to the nearest military base if I got the chance.

Unfortunately, it seemed as if I would have little choice in the matter. Carmen had offered me a cup of warm cocoa before I had retired to my bunk. I drank it, feeling mildly drowsy afterward. Sleep came easily that night, a welcome dreamless darkness that I plunged into as the ship oscillated with the waves. However, I woke up in the brightness of the day groggily, finding myself in the reclined seat of a private plane. I groaned, putting my pulsating head in-between my knees. I must have drawn attention, as I suddenly felt a strong female hand on my back.

"Get her a sick bag." Carmen ordered. I was quickly given one, in which I swiftly emptied the contents of my stomach. After heaving a few more times I wiped my mouth on a towel that was handed to me by a sympathetic crew member. I rubbed my temples, looking up at Carmen with narrowed eyes.

"You drugged me." I accused.

"For precautionary reasons." she replied. "It made for less questions when we reached the port."

I moved to stand, but my legs felt wobbly. The crew member, who couldn't have been much older than myself, gently seated me once more.

"The effects will wear off soon, just in time for us to disembark." Carmen informed.

I answered her by vomiting again, catching the bile in the towel in my lap.

"Remember never to be too trusting of anyone, Detective." Carmen now handed me a slice of lime, an old trick to help with nausea. "Even those with good intentions."

I replied to her comment with an unsavory one of my own, before turning on my side towards the window. I could feel our gradual descent, but no earth was visible quite yet. The glass of the window felt pleasantly cold against my forehead, and I closed my eyes, only opening them when I felt the plane beginning to lean and prepare for landing. It was a smaller airport, tucked in the rolling emerald hills of the country. My stomach wasn't quite settled, and when the wheels touched the tarmac with a few bumps, it took everything for me to force back down another Technicolor yawn.

"How are you feeling now?" The woman inquired.

I stood, now much more steady on my feet. "That landing was unnecessarily rough."

A part of me expected Carmen's Irish safe house to be a grand castle, on par with her island getaway, so I was surprised when we arrived at a quiet farm, sheep dotting the land like fluffy clouds.

"Top of the morning to you." A faux Irish brogue greeted me. I rolled my eyes, turning around to see O'Malley. He seemed to be in good spirits, but had lost a considerable amount of weight in a short period of time. His clothing hung loose on his frame. He had also gotten rid of the mop of curly hair on his head, but allowed the orange stubble to grow on his face instead.

"I'll leave you two alone." Carmen patted my shoulder, and went towards the main cottage. We both trailed her with our eyes for a moment, before turning our attention back on each other.

"So, what's the word, Red?" O'Malley asked, a phrase SpecOps often used in the field to discreetly identify themselves. "You've been alright?"

"Up until this point." I gestured around us. "So this is where you've been hiding out?"

"Not exclusively." He looked around before continuing. "There was a small but growing faction of Falcon in this country. They've managed to align themselves with some ex-IRA. So I tipped ACME off anonymously, forced them back into the shadows…and probably made some enemies."

"Why would you take the risk?" I hissed. "Now Falcon knows you're alive and possibly against them."

"I can't stay in hiding forever." He shrugged. "Besides, I made contact with Gil - he found your father, Red."

O'Malley's confirmation made me smile with relief, and I hugged his slender frame.

"Carmen told me, but I didn't believe her fully…" I looked up at him now, searching his face. "How is he?"

"Just fine." He displayed a bit of his crooked teeth. "He's at the Barn, safe and getting the best of everything." The Barn was a top secret ACME medical facility in upstate New York, where Undercover and Special Operations could come to treat medical emergencies that would raise suspicions elsewhere. It was also a place where they could rehabilitate from long term injuries securely.

"Does he know that I'm okay? Did you tell Gil anything?"

"I hinted to Gil that you were safe…but he wants to see for himself."

"So he's coming."

"Yes, then we're making a short trip to the next Falcon stronghold in Morocco. We've both gotten intel that they've moved most of their operations away from the states and have been setting up there. Maximilian has been spotted, in disguise of course."

"I'm coming too."

"Absolutely not." O'Malley shook his cue ball head for emphasis. "Not after all this trouble."

"So I'm just supposed to go into hiding forever? The same thing you said you yourself couldn't do?"

He raised an eyebrow, but declined to answer. Instead, he led me back towards the cottage. "Gil will be by in the morning. Save some of that spunk for him."

I smirked. "He likes and can handle it."

"Let's see how he feels after you two really start working together."

The inside of the cottage was larger than expected, but what really surprised me was the fact that it housed a bunker underneath it. It was a fully modernized shelter with a stockpile of MRE's, medicine, and even ammunition that seemed as if it could last a few years. Despite this, it was also comfortable, with decently sized sleeping areas, a small shower, tv, radio, and other items for entertainment.

"What do you think?" Carmen inquired, after showing me around.

"You want me to stay here." I answered flatly.

"If the circumstances ask for it…"

"Listen, I'm grateful for all you have done." I began. "But I can't live like this Carmen."

"I know it seems daunting at first -

I held up a hand. "I'm going with O'Malley to Morocco."

"Does he know this?"

"I told him." I crossed my arms. "He's not happy about it, obviously, but it has to be done."

"If Falcon gets you, they'll kill you." she reminded me. "And if they do that, it will be the catalyst for a war between ACME and Falcon."

"And if they don't get me, they'll do what they did to my mom. Hurt the people who I love to draw me out. It could be my friends from the Academy, people who I grew up with in the New York office - innocent lives. They already went after my Papa. I can't make her mistake."

Carmen cleared her throat, but no words followed.

"O'Malley's going with the Detective that rescued my dad." I continued. "Ironically, he was the one that saved me too."

"Artemis Gilligan." Carmen spoke, her voice low.

I frowned. "Do you know him?"

"No." Her answer was too quick for my liking.

I followed her back upstairs, into the seating area of the home. The floors were wooden, but there was a cozy looking rug on the floor, one which a large white Persian lay upon, basking in the warmth of the hearth in front of it. Carmen called to it affectionately, but the cat paid her no attention. With a sigh, she returned back to our conversation. "I can't imagine this Detective allowing you to tag along, especially when he knows the threats firsthand."

"If not for this escapade, I'd graduated by now, and Devineaux was going to make him my partner."

"Interesting choice."

"We have a rapport, so I think it's a good match." I bent down to scratch the cat behind her ears, smiling when I saw the name Carmine etched into the leather of her collar. "And he promised me that we'd go after Falcon as soon as I became the real deal."

Carmen exhaled deeply. "And if he says no?"

"I'm not taking no for an answer."

She looked me up and down, her mouth curling with amused pride, but her forehead wrinkling with worry. "You remind me of myself during my ACME days, Isabella. I'm not always sure that's a good thing."

"I'll still take the compliment."

She laughed, a flash of perfect teeth. "Maybe I should join you as well…."

I tilted my head, intrigued.

"While I was away from the Cay, Isabella, I put a wrench in Falcon's operations in South America. I let ACME take care of the rest."

"How generous of you."

"Sometimes they need a little help. But you know with any organization of influence, once you shut down one limb, another one grows elsewhere. If O'Malley's intel is correct and Maximilian is in Morocco…."

"You'd get the head."

"Sever it, and the body withers."

"You're not afraid they'll arrest you as well?"

Carmen snickered, and I couldn't help but grin at the sound. "They'd have to catch me first. But Undercover crosses lines all the time to get results. This would be no different."

I wondered where the lines were even drawn at this point, but kept my musings to myself. Instead I nodded my understanding, eagerly waiting to see Gil's expression in the morning.