Author's disclaimer: Standard

Author's notes: Feedback always welcomed!

Disclaimer: Benton Fraser, Ray Vecchio and the other members of the 27th Precinct are property of Alliance. John Grant belongs to NBC. And Dr. Arthur Whitman was created by Dale Barnes. All other characters are mine. No infringement of any copyrights is intended. This story is written for the private enjoyment of Due South fans and not for monetary profit. Permission to use this story for profit is not given.

Title: Courage, Innocence or Justice? Author: Kali Sandison
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Red, White or Blue
Pairings: Ray/Female (Abbey)
Sequel to: Revelations

A big TYK goes to my ever vigilant beta reader, Possum, for her hard work and tracking down all those pesky missing commas.

Dr. Abigail Barnes was serene. Though the claustrophobic might cringe at what she was doing, she had come to look forward to this hour that she spent every day. 'The box', as she had come to call it, was a fiberglass tank that measured seven feet long, four feet wide and almost five feet tall. Inside was twelve inches of water heated to 93 degrees in which 800 pounds of Epsom salts had been dissolved. Even if Abbey hadn't been naturally buoyant from her years as a swimmer, this mixture would have floated Arnold Schwarzenegger.

The sixty minutes she spent in the isolation tank was supposed to help her learn to ignore outside distractions and focus solely on her empathic talents. But she had come to look upon it as a time to shut out all the extraneous noise in her life and concentrate only on herself. Some days she had a good long sulk, pouting at the way her life had turned out since she had returned to Washington, D.C. Some days she chose to appreciate the few things that had gone well since she started her new life here. But most days, she just chose to sleep. The routine that the Office of Scientific Investigation and Research had put her through over the last three weeks had been absolutely grueling. She had never considered that extreme mental conditioning could be more exhausting than her days in Air Force basic training.

Today she closed her eyes and began to count backwards from one hundred. It was the fastest way she had found to consciously relax and allow her to drift off to sleep. She felt unconsciousness begin to overtake her around thirty-nine. Keeping her breath carefully even she knew she'd be asleep before twenty. But today she would be wrong. At twenty-four a vision plastered itself on her brain. Ben and Ray standing side by side in a court room wearing a poncho. It was similar to the vision she'd had when Ben had kissed her at the music festival but this one was more vivid. She could see the details of the room and of the poncho. They stood very close and when they moved across the floor, they shuffled their feet like two men who had been bound together and then had their ankles shackled. But what bothered Abbey the most was the fear.
It was their fear she felt so keenly. Something was terribly wrong and they knew it. And now, she knew it too.

Abbey bounded out of the isolation tank, barely remembering to grab a towel to wrap around her naked body and ran for the nearest desk with a phone. Ignoring all courtesy and protocol, she grabbed the receiver and began punching the buttons that would connect her with her old friend back in the Windy City.

"Vecchio," a gruff voice answered.

"Ray, it's Abbey. What are you doing?"

"What am I doing? I tell you what I'm doing. I'm heading home and hoping to God there's not another reporter there to ask me what the Mountie is like."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Yeah, I heard you but I don't understand. Why would reporters be asking you about Ben?"

"Randall Bolt's about to go on trial. So there's this big media frenzy at the consulate. Everybody's actin' like Fraser stopped the train, rescued the Dragon Lady and captured Bolt all by himself. No mention of the other Mounties or yours truly."

Abbey's brain began to spin until she remembered reading about the ex-patriated freeman who had hijacked a train full of Mounties on their way to some performance. Ray hadn't mentioned it while she was visiting so she had put it out of her mind. Mental calculations told her that it was way too early for this man to be facing a judge and jury.

"Ray, he was just arrested three months ago. How come they're havin' a trial so soon?"

"Invoked his sixth amendment rights and got his trial date bumped up."

"Wow, that fast!" Abbey was truly amazed but managed to pull her brain back to present day Washington D.C.

"Well, Ray, I'm sorry you're not getting the recognition you feel you deserve, but we've got a bigger problem than that."

"Oh yeah? What can be bigger than my career going down the toilet cuz no one wants to recognize my contribution?"

"A poncho."

"A what?"

"You heard me; a poncho. Ray, I had the vision again."

"Abbey, before you left both Benny and I gave you our solemn promise that we'd avoid ponchos at all costs. I even stood outside in a downpour a few days ago with no outerwear at all because the only option I had was one of those vinyl ponchos that they issue traffic officers."

"Damn it Ray, I'm serious. I had the vision again, which means you two haven't done enough to negate its possibility. Now where's Ben?"

"For all I care he can go to hell. But he's probably at his place which is practically the same thing."

Abbey took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "Okay, just do me a favor and stay away from each other for the next couple of days. If you're not together, there's less danger."

"Yeah, right, whatever you say, Abbey."

She knew he was blowing her off and as much as she would have liked to have given him a piece of her mind, she knew it would be a wasted cause.

"Thanks for listening to me, Ray. Stay safe. It looks like I'll have a long weekend coming up for the Fourth of July holiday. If I can catch a cheap flight to Chicago, could we get together?"

"Sure, call me later in the week and we'll see what happens."

"Good-bye, Ray," Abbey said as she prepared to hang up the phone.

"Yeah, see ya, Abbey," he responded.

As she replaced the receiver on the phone she could tell that she'd been dismissed.

"Dr. Barnes, what are you doing out here? You're supposed to be in the sensory deprivation tank."

'Oh God, it's the troll,' she thought as Dr. Arthur Whitman came charging across the floor towards her.
Dr. Whitman was considered to be a leading expert in parapsychic talents and had been assigned to develop her training regimen. She knew that if she admitted to having a vision he would be dragging her to his office to put her under a mental microscope and analyze her within an inch of her life. The thing that bothered her was that he never seemed interested in the visions themselves, just in how they formed in her brain. And she knew that this most recent vision would have him in orbit since it was not predicated by contact of any kind with the people involved.

Very few people were able to fluster Abbey but somehow he seemed to do it easily. Now she found herself clutching her towel tightly to her breasts looking for something to say.

"Dr. Whitman, I was hoping I'd find you. I just had a precognitive episode and I knew you'd want to hear about it."

A light glimmered in his eyes as he stared at her. Though theoretically he was her superior, the fact was that he had no talent of his own and certainly didn't have Abbey's unwavering ability to detect lies. He took her prevarication at face value.

"Really? When?"

"Just now, while I was in the box. It was concerning two friends of mine back in Chicago. Why don't I get dressed and I'll meet you in your office in, say 20 minutes?"

"Oh yes, that would be marvelous," he agreed as he turned away from her.

'Marvelous, indeed,' she thought sarcastically as she returned to the tank area. 'To him I'm just a big experiment; one step above a lab rat in a cage'. While taking a shower to wash the salt water from her skin and hair she reflected on a cartoon she had seen at Ray's. 'Pinky and The Brain' was the story of two laboratory mice, one of whom was a genius with a megalomaniac complex. In every episode Brain found a way for them to escape from their cage so they could execute his latest plan to take over the world.
Abbey now identified with these two rodents. But this was a cage of her own making. She had agreed to this, had come here of her own free will. And she had to admit that both her telempathic talents had increased tremendously in the short time she'd been here. Increased in both strength and control. But her visions were still not something she could force. They simply happened, and happened briefly. She was rarely able to pick up much in the way of details. She was surprised that she had seen this one so clearly. She only hoped that Ray and Ben would stay away from each other for the next few days. She could tell this was a 'sooner'.

Abbey spent nearly 90 minutes in Dr. Whitman's office describing the details of her vision to him, the way some people might describe a dream to a psychotherapist. He asked her all sorts of deep, probing and personal questions until finally she had had enough. Her nerves were frayed by her fear that her friends wouldn't take her advice and Dr. Whitman's questions had gone past anything even resembling professional, in her opinion.
"Okay Doc, that's it for today. No more," she said rising from her chair.

"But we're not through," he protested.

"You might not be but I am. I refuse to sit here and be subjected to the voyeuristic questions of a man who has no clue what it's like to walk a mile in my shoes. You wanna help me sharpen my empathic abilities, fine and dandy. But I refuse to be your precognitive guinea pig any longer."

Abbey sprung out of her chair leaving the very surprised psychologist to simply stare at her. She stormed to the desk she'd been assigned and grabbed her backpack. Her exit from the building was so fast and hostile that no one even thought about stopping her.

Once at her car, she flung the pack into the passenger seat, stuck the keys in the ignition and fired up the engine. With barely a glance around her to check for oncoming traffic, she swiftly pulled out of her parking spot and headed for her freedom.

With great relief Abbey found a parking spot on the street near the Cafe Espresso, a wonderful little hang out near Georgetown University. In the middle of a weekday afternoon, the establishment was virtually empty. Taking advantage of the unseasonably mild weather, Abbey chose a shaded outside table. She perused the plastic laminated menu that was propped up between the napkin dispenser and the small vase that held a half dozen daisies. Deciding quickly, she replaced the menu and held her head in her hands.

"Are you ready to order?" a voice asked from over her left shoulder.

Deep in her misery, Abbey didn't notice the thick Sicilian accent. "Yes, please. Bring me a glass of peppermint iced tea and a piece of chocolate chip cake."

"And perhaps a bottle of aspirin?"

"Have you got any cyanide laced Tylenol?" Abbey asked, looking up to see the most gorgeous hazel green eyes she'd observed since leaving Chicago.

"Oh cara, did my suitcase hit you so hard that you're contemplating suicide?"

"Lou! What are you doing waiting tables?"

"I'm not," he replied laughing. "May I join you?"

"Sure."

Lou took the seat next to her.

"So what are you doing here? And do you really have a bottle of aspirin on you? I could use 3 or 4."

"No, I'm afraid not. However, there is a pharmacy just around the corner. I could run and get some for you."

"Oh you're too kind. But thank you, no. I'll get some later."

"As you wish."

At that moment, the real waiter arrived at their table.

"What can I get you folks today?"

"The lady will have a glass of peppermint iced tea with a piece of chocolate chip cake. And I'd like a frappucino and a piece of Mississippi Mud cake," Lou ordered with complete ease and self-assurance.

"Good choice. I'll be right back with your order," the waiter replied, spinning on his heel and hurrying inside.

"So back to why you're here?" she prompted.

He smiled at her, eyes twinkling. "I was drawn here by your beauty."

"Bullshit," Abbey responded playfully.

"I was driving by and noticed you getting out of your car," he explained.

"And you remembered me from one brief encounter at the airport," she said skeptically.

"Well, actually I did see you again the next day at the park. But you didn't notice me."

"You did? Why didn't you say something?"

"You were with your friends and I didn't wish to intrude on your fun." "What were you doing at the festival? I thought you were catching a connecting flight to parts unknown."

"Shortly after you left, I received a call changing my plans. So I stayed in Chicago for a few days before moving on."

"So is D.C. your home?"

"No," he laughed. "I travel so much that I'm not sure where home is any more. Lately I have spent a great deal of time in Las Vegas. Before that I was in Florida. Now, though, it looks like I'll be moving to Atlantic City."

"New Jersey?"

"Yes."

The waiter returned with their food and drinks.

"So back to what the heck are you doing here."

"Just another business trip."

"Oh? What kind of business?"

"My employer, he has many different business ventures," Lou said without really answering her question.

Abbey was quite sure the guy was mobbed up. Her unfailing bullshit detector was off the scale. So she decided to have some fun with him. She leaned towards him and spoke in conspiratorial tones.

"Ya know something, Lou? I'm really attracted to you. I mean *really* attracted. Heartbeat is racing, mind spinning, sweaty palms, the whole nine yards. So you can drop the fake Italian accent. You don't need it to impress me."

He was positively stunned. Abbey refrained from smiling as the look on his face told her she'd been right. But even she was impressed at how quickly he covered.

"Oh God, I'm doing it again, aren't I? I'm sorry. It seems like every time I go see the family back home I bring the dialect back with me too. Thank you, Abbey."

"For what?" Now it was her turn to be perplexed.

"For being honest with me."

"You make honesty sound like a novel concept."

"In my business, it is."

"Hmm," she replied noncommittally.

"So what do you do for a living?"

"Me? I'm a psychologist."

"Really?" He gave her an appraising look. "That wouldn't have been my first guess but I suppose it suits you."

"Oh? What would your first guess have been?"

"I don't know," he said as he continued to study her. "Maybe a personal trainer or something more physical."

"And less cerebral?" she asked, a mocking expression in her eyes.

"No, but you must admit that you're very, uh, fit for a woman."

"I think that might have been a compliment."

"It was. So how long have you been a psychologist?"

Abbey had to count quickly to recall just how long it had been since she'd left the Air Force. "Almost eight years. I actually teach psychology at Emory University in Atlanta and also work at the student counseling center."

"So what are you doing in D.C.?"

"You've never heard of summer vacation?"

"A whole summer off. Must be nice," he goaded.

"Well, not really. I'm up here for some special high intensity training," she replied, slipping into a southern drawl before she continued.

"And Ah understand what you mean about pickin' up a dialect. Ya'll just oughta hear me after a few days back in Atlanta."

They both laughed at her mockery.

"By the end of the semester, I sound like Scarlett Fucking O'Hara. I have to come north of the Mason Dixon line for a few months just to sound normal again." "So you *are* a Yankee."

"Actually, I consider myself a citizen of the world. Lord knows I've seen enough of it."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I spent ten years in the Air Force before I became a psychologist. Well, I had my bachelor's degree when I left but I didn't really put it to use until after I quit."

"Sounds like a fascinating life."

"It was a life, all right."

The waiter reappeared and tactfully placed the check between them. Both Abbey and Lou grabbed for it at the same time. Her hand got there first but this did not deter him. He merely tried to pick up her hand and slide the paper out from under it.

"Mine," she said decisively.

"No way," he responded.

"Yes way. You can get it next time."

"There may never *be* a next time."

"Lou, something tells me that this isn't the last time we're gonna run into each other. I think the fates are conspiring."

"Maybe so, but you still need your money to purchase your aspirin."

"I'm a bleedin' college professor. I'm hardly destitute. And besides, your fine company has completely cured my headache."

He looked at her skeptically.

"C'mon, Lou, be a 90's kind of guy. Let a woman pick up the check."

Reluctantly he pulled his hand away but his mind was working at hyperspeed. He considered inviting her to join him tonight for his dinner with Senator Coleman. It would solidify his cover if she were to attend. He looked at her and speculated. How would she respond?

"Okay Abbey, you can pay for dessert if you let me pay for dinner."

"Huh?"

"I'd like you to join me for dinner tonight. I'm meeting Senator John Coleman from New Jersey and his wife. Please, Abbey. It would give me a chance to appease the fates that seem so determined to throw us together."

Abbey studied him carefully. Though everything about him practically screamed 'fake', she could discern no danger from him. Part of her reluctance to accept stemmed from knowing that if he did have mob connections, she'd have to spend at least two days filling out forms and answering questions about the most minute details of their interaction. She'd been through the drill before. It wasn't fun.

"Come on," he reiterated. "How many senators have you met? This could be a really big thrill for you."
'Oh honey, if you only knew how many members of the Senate appropriations committee have marched through VCTF headquarters," she thought. But she had to keep up the ruse of being a professor.

"Oh, not so many that I couldn't stand to meet one more. But, I'll have to go home first and change clothes. Where should I meet you and what time?"

"Abbey, what kind of unmannered, uncouth lout do you take me for? I'll pick you up, of course."

She quieted the panic that flashed through her. The last thing she wanted was for him to know where she was staying. He might not seem dangerous now, but she still didn't trust him. She just wasn't sure how she was going to gracefully decline.

"Really, there's no need for you to schlep all the way out to the Maryland countryside just for me."

She saw him start to object to her objection and held up a hand to forestall him. "Besides, you barely know me. I could be an axe murderer and you'd never be seen again," she said with a wicked grin.

He was perceptive enough to know who thought whom might be an axe murderer. But he had to admire her caution.

"Well, you've got a point. I'd hate to be chopped to pieces and scattered around the state of Maryland."

He scribbled a note on the back of an ATM receipt. "That's where I'm staying. The restaurant is a short walk away. Reservations are for seven, but if you'd like to join me for a drink before dinner, I'd be happy to meet you in the hotel bar at six."

Abbey glanced at her watch and made rapid mental calculations. "Better make it 6:15. I'll need sufficient time to get ready."

"I'll be there at 6:00. You show up when you can."

"You're on," she agreed. "Are you sure you can get the reservations changed so late?"

"Leave that to me," he assured her.

"Well then, I'd better take off so I have enough time to get ready."

She stood up, the check still firmly grasped in her hand. Abbey waved the slip of paper in front of his nose.

"Just in case you thought tonight's dinner invitation was going to distract me from this... " she said, grinning at his embarrassed smile.

He watched as she walked in the caf to pay the bill and continued to smile. He wondered how the senator would react to Abbey. Rumor had it that the very junior senator had an eye for the ladies. Lou considered warning her but decided she looked like the kind who could handle herself. Besides, the rumor may not be true.

He saw Abbey exit the building and immediately turn right towards her car.
"See ya, Lou!" she said as she walked away from the table they had shared.

The Italian man sat there in semi-stunned silence. No woman had ever treated him with the casual nature Abbey displayed. He knew he was not handsome in the popular sense of the word and he would hardly call himself vain. But he just didn't understand. He couldn't remember a time when a woman didn't succumb to his charm and wit. Even though she seemed more than willing to spend time with him, she also didn't seem to make any kind of emotional investment. On the other hand, she didn't appear to be playing hard to get either. He watched her hike up her slim skirt to get into her car and continued to watch as she drove away.

"Were you wanting something else sir?"

Lou had not noticed the waiter walk up beside him.

"No thank you," he replied, getting out of his chair and walking to his car.

At precisely 6:15, Abbey walked into the bar at the Watergate Hotel. She smiled at the memory of all the political hoo-hah that had transpired here. Glancing around the room, she saw Lou seated at a corner booth in the back of the room. He stood as she walked toward him.

"You look fabulous!" he exclaimed, holding out his hands to greet her.

She placed her hands in his and allowed him to pull her in for a chaste kiss on her cheek. Abbey was surprised by the reaction that kiss created. Her entire body flushed and she felt herself become very aroused. A vision began to form before her eyes but didn't coalesce into anything definite.

"Oh thank you for saying so. I was afraid I'd be underdressed."

She wore a simple charcoal gray dress with a rounded neckline and short sleeves. A pearl and gold necklace hung from her neck and matching earrings dangled from her earlobes. She seemed taller to Lou, who only then realized that the heels on her matching gray pumps added nearly three inches to her height. "No, you're perfect."

She had just taken her seat when a waitress appeared at their table.

"What would you like to drink?" Lou asked Abbey.

"What are you drinking?" she responded.

"Whiskey."

Abbey nodded and looked at the waitress. "Jack Daniels, black label, please."

Lou raised his eyebrows at her choice but the efficient server had already gone.

"Jack Daniels?" he asked.

"Oh I'm sorry," Abbey responded with mild sarcasm. "Were you expecting me to order something pink with an umbrella in it?"

"No, it's just that you don't see many women who drink whiskey."

"When in Rome..." she quoted, staring pointedly at his glass.

"Abbey, you don't have to prove anything to me. You can drink whatever you like."

"I like Jack Daniels."

"Oh," he said, still somewhat stunned.

"So what's my role tonight?" she asked, trying to get his mind back to the evening at hand.

"Role?" he repeated.

"Yes. Am I just along as eye candy? Do I get to voice opinions? Why am I here and what am I supposed to do?"

"Well," he began, slightly amused, "Only you can answer why you accepted my invitation. But I'm very happy you did."

"You know what I meant. Why did you ask me to tag along?"

"Are all psychologists this paranoid?"

"I'm not paranoid. I'm just curious. My intuition tells me there may be something fishy here."

"Abbey," he said, covering one of her hands with his, "I like you. You seem like a fun person. I just wanted to spend a little time with you before I have to fly back to Las Vegas tomorrow. Is that such a crime?"

"No, but it still brings me back to my original question. What's my role tonight?"

He thought for a moment before crafting his answer. "Just be yourself."

"Seriously, Lou, if you're having dinner with a senator, I expect some sort of political wheeling and dealing. And I don't want to say something that would have any negative ramifications for you."

"No wheeling and dealing tonight. This is a purely social dinner. The senator sits on some committees that are of great interest to my employer. Tonight I just want to see where he stands on a few of the issues."

She looked doubtful.

"I'm not here to curry favor. Just to gather some information."

"Ah, a recon mission," she concluded.

"Yes, you could call it that."

The waitress returned with Abbey's drink. Taking the glass in hand, Abbey lifted it in a toast.

"To a successful reconnaissance."

"Salut," he responded and took a sip of his whiskey.

Lou watched dumbfounded as Abbey downed hers in one gulp. He was slack jawed when she virtually slammed the empty glass back down to the table. Seeing the astonished look on his face, she laughed at him.

"Okay, Dutch courage taken care of. I'm ready for anything now."

He continued to stare at her, too amazed to speak.

"Now what?" she asked, picking up on his discomfort as soon as the words were out of her mouth. "Oh, I see. I've completely freaked you out. Don't panic, sweetie. I promise you I'll be on my best 'feminine' behavior with the senator tonight."

He shook his head and laughed at the brown eyed pixie who sat across the table from him. "You promise?" he asked.

"I swear on my parents' graves. I will do nothing to embarrass you in front of the senator."

"Your parents are dead?" he asked.

"Yeah, they died while I was in high school."

"I'm so sorry to hear that."

"It was pretty rough for a while. And not a day goes by that I don't miss them terribly. They were great parents. But I try not to dwell on the past. Better to live for the here and now."

"Absolutely. You can't change the past," he agreed, glancing at his watch. "Well, it's show time."

Lou closed out his bar tab and escorted Abbey out of the hotel. It was, indeed, just a short walk to the restaurant. They arrived minutes before Senator Coleman and his wife. Lou began to make the introductions.

"This is Senator John Coleman and his lovely wife Marilyn. May I present Abbey..."

He paused awkwardly as he realized that he didn't know Abbey's last name.

"Professor Abigail Barnes, " she inserted smoothly. "He tends to forget to add the title at the beginning. And I worked too hard for it to ever forget it."
Abbey smiled graciously at Lou to take any perceived sting out of her words. He smiled back and then rolled his eyes at her.

"Yes," he agreed easily, "I'm just a sexist, misogynist pig who believes women belong at home, barefoot and pregnant; not out earning advanced degrees and teaching college students."

"Well, they say the first step to overcoming a problem is to admit you have one. So there may be hope for you yet, sweetie."

Abbey turned her attention back to the senator and his wife. He was in his early 40's with conservatively cut brown hair and blue eyes. Mrs. Coleman appeared to be about the same age. She had the bright smile and perky personality that Abbey automatically associated with a cheerleader. And the woman's thick blonde page boy cut hair just strengthened the assessment.

She felt the senator's eyes subtly caressing her body as she was introduced and could practically read the man's lecherous thoughts. She pasted a socially polite smile on her face and then returned her attention to Lou.

Abbey was tense and unsettled all through dinner. At first she attributed it to the senator and his subtle admiration for her physical form. Then she realized that this was more than just the rude behavior of a dinner guest. This had a more menacing aura to it. She wasn't aware how much it was bothering her until Lou gently touched the back of her hand.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

In that instant she had a brief vision of several blocks of plastique, red, white and blue wires, and an L.E.D. digital display. "Huh?" she asked snapping her attention back to the table.

"I asked if you were okay. You seemed a little tense and distracted."

Smiling once again, she apologized. "I'm sorry. It seems that headache I had this afternoon has returned. Would you excuse me for a moment, please?"
Abbey retreated to the ladies room and tried to call Ray. There was no answer at his home and his cell phone went to voice mail. She didn't bother to leave a message, knowing that he'd be further irritated with her checking up on him. She thought of Ben but knew he didn't have a phone in his apartment and it was too late to call the consulate. Taking several deep breaths to settle her nerves, she returned to the table. Her socially polite smile was back on her face and she worked hard to maintain an aura of calm. It was nearly 10:00 when Lou and Abbey returned to his hotel.

"Would you be interested in joining me for a nightcap?" he asked.

"On some other night, maybe. But tonight I really need to go home and go to bed."

"Okay, I'll walk you to your car. Where are you parked?"

"Sublevel 2."

"Let's go," he said, leading the way to the elevator.

Moments later they were walking down the long concrete aisleway towards her Volkswagen.

"Thanks for joining me tonight, Abbey. I hope you had a decent time."

"Well, it would have been better sans headache. But beyond that, and ignoring the senator's rude and lascivious behavior, I had a nice time. Thanks for inviting me."

"I'd like to do it again some time," he said hopefully. "Just the two of us?"
"When are you coming back to D.C.?"

"I have no idea."

"Well, that does make it a little difficult to plan. I guess we'll just have to leave it up to fate."

She stopped at her little red convertible and looked at him. "So I guess this is good-bye."

"I know this is going to sound old fashioned, but somehow it feels right."

"What's that?"

"May I kiss you goodnight?"

A smile slowly spread over her face. "Yeah, I'd like that."

With one hand he leaned toward her. His lips were warm and moist on hers. She felt her body react just as it had to his earlier kiss but more intensely. Never in her life had a simple kiss made her feel so off balance. And a thought occurred to her. Was he a telempath too?

His lips released hers but he kept his hand on the side of her face and stared deeply into her brown eyes. He took a deep breath before he spoke.

"I sure hope fate is working for us."

"Well, you never know with fate," she responded as she clasped his hand and withdrew it from her face. She gave it a brief squeeze before releasing it.
"Good night, Abbey."

"Good night, Lou."

Without a single glance back at him, Abbey got in her car and once the engine roared to life, pulled out of the parking garage. Lou watched until her tail-lights disappeared and then returned to his suite.

Once there he picked up the phone and dialed a number he had memorized years ago.

"Yeah?" the other party answered.

"It's Lou. I need you to get me some information on Professor Abigail Barnes. She allegedly teaches psychology at Emory University in Atlanta."

"What kind of info do you want?"

"Anything and everything you can get me."

"And I supposed you want it yesterday," the voice laughed.

"You know me too well."

"I'll get right on it."

"Great, I'll be back in Vegas tomorrow."

"Fine, I'll call you there."

Lou hung up the phone without even saying good-bye. Stripping his clothes from his body as he walked, he entered the bathroom and stepped into the shower. He turned on the cold water and stood under the chilling spray, trying to rinse away the after effects of kissing Abbey. He had no explanation for what had happened. Though she had returned his kiss with equal gentility, he felt like she was engulfing him with super concentrated passion. But after several minutes, he could tell that the shower wasn't going to do the job. He adjusted the water to a much more comfortable temperature and took matters into his own hands.

Abbey arrived home and heaved a sigh of relief. She was glad to be free from Lou's electric personality. No one, not even Ray, had ever made her feel so alive and vital in his presence. And that kiss... Though his lips had been so soft and gentle on hers, the effect had been potent; more potent than the most white-hot, passionate sex she'd ever had. She went to bed wondering who this man really was and why he had this effect on her.

Abbey was awake before her alarm clock went off. She'd spent most of the night tossing and turning, unable to sleep for more than an hour at a time. If she hadn't had the visions earlier in the day, and if she didn't know she was gifted with foresight, she would have chalked it up to some sort of free floating anxiety, or a panic attack. But she knew the source. Something was desperately wrong with Ray and perhaps even Ben but she didn't know what. And she wasn't sure how to find out.

Knowing she wasn't up to Dr. Whitman's mental gymnastics today, she called him and left a message on his voice mail explaining her need to go to the FBI headquarters. She figured someone, somewhere would find out about her dinner with Lou last night. And a couple of days in a quiet room filling out forms didn't sound like such a bad idea right now.

By 9:30 she was safely ensconced in an unoccupied cubicle filling out the mountains of paperwork that the Bureau required when one of its employees had had contact with a suspected criminal. A search of the vast FBI databases revealed that Lou was not a suspect in any current investigation. But Abbey insisted on filing the reports anyway, figuring it was only a matter of time before his name would be flagged.

At lunch time she took a break, gathered her paperwork and headed toward the cafeteria. She found an empty table and set her tray of food on it. Half way through her salad she heard a familiar voice.

"Abbey, what are you doing here?"

She looked up to see John Grant, a former co-worker with the Violent Crimes Task Force.

"I had a date last night," she said, just before she put another forkful of vegetables in her mouth and gestured for him to join her.

"So?" he asked, waiting for her to swallow.

"Possible mob connection. I chose to get the obligatory paperwork done now instead of waiting until somebody inquired. I figured if I did it now, I'd actually remember what happened."

"Which was... ?" he asked.

"Nothing of any real importance. We had dinner with a senator and his wife. The men discussed some issues that are coming before congress and the wife and I discussed Georgetown University. She got her Masters Degree in History there. After dinner Lou invited me back to his place for a nightcap, which I declined thanks to a headache I'd been battling all afternoon. He kissed me good-night and I went home."

"Well, that shouldn't take too long to do the paperwork."

"I take it you've never filled out an SR71-J?"

"Not that I know of."

"Well, you'll know when you do. It doesn't matter if you took a stick of gum from the suspect or if you drove the getaway car on their latest bank robbery. Either way, you have to answer all the questions. And in most cases, you'll answer it two or three different times, only in each case it will be worded just a little differently. I'm hoping they'll let me do the interview phase today or tomorrow so I can get this over with."

"There's an interview too? Man, remind me never to associate with suspected criminals."

They continued to eat for several minutes before Abbey finally spoke again.

"So, what are you doing up here?" she asked.

"Doing a little paperwork before I head to Quantico for some Special High Intensity Training."

"Oh really? And what kind of S.H.I.T. are you getting?" she inquired, laughing at the joke.

"It's that seminar you and George went to last year."

"Oh, that'll be a breeze for you. Enjoy yourself."

"Thanks. So how are you doing at OSIR?"

"I'm being tortured. It's pure hell. I wanna run away and join the circus but the best I can do is a four day weekend back to Chicago over the Fourth of July Holiday."

"Regretting your decision to re-join the fold so soon? I figured it would take you at least six weeks to get to this state."

"You've never had Dr. Whitman's S.H.I.T."

"Obviously not. So you're going back to Chicago to see the boyfriend, huh?"
"No, I'm going to Chicago to see my friends Ben and Ray and their family."

"You sure?"

"Yes, John. I'm sure."

She gave him a look that reinforced her few words. "Okay, just wondering."

"Why? You jealous?"

"Abbey, you'd know if I were." John had never been comfortable with her empathic talent and he took this moment to remind her of that.

"Not necessarily. One of the exercises Dr. Whitman's been drilling me on is to be able to put a temporary mute on my talent. Then I don't have to be overwhelmed by highly charged emotional experiences. I can't say that I'm completely able to shut it off or turn it on at a moment's notice, but I'm getting pretty good. Like today, I made a decision when I walked in this morning to not be affected by other people's feelings. And I've been blissfully ignorant for the past three hours."

"Good for you. I know there were times in Atlanta when things got pretty overpowering for you."

"Yeah, they did."

"So, it's been worth the trouble?"

"Oh, I'm not sure about that. I'll know more once I'm done and back working with the Bureau full time. OSIR is a pretty insulated environment."

Abbey glanced at her watch. "Oops. I'd better get back to it if I'm gonna get the paperwork done in time to try to get an interview today."

"I'll try to find you before I leave to say good-bye."

"Thanks, John. Right now I'm in a cube just outside Edward Hoover's door. If I don't get an interview today, I'll be there 'til 4:30."

"Okay Abbey, I'll see you around."

"See you around, John."

She took her tray to the conveyor belt that would return it to the kitchen and then headed back to her cubie. Diving back into her paperwork, she hastily scribbled answers. Fortunately, she'd had enough experience in psychological testing to recognize the way this survey probed the mind of the agent. They were trying to come up with as many details as possible and maintain the consistency of the data gathered. She was ready to submit the form when she felt a tap on her shoulder. It was John.

"Uh, Abbey, there's something going on that I think you should see."

"What's up?"

"Just come here."

She followed him into the office of the Assistant Director of the Organized Crime Division. Edward Hoover nodded at their presence but then returned his attention to the small television that sat in a corner of his office. Abbey watched in horror as the camera revealed a courtroom that was being held hostage by a badly dressed man with long, thinning, silver hair that was held back by a bandana. And in the thick of it all were Ray and Ben, gang wired to several blocks of plastic explosives.

"Damn them!" Abbey exploded. "Did I or did I not warn them, on several occasions, that this was going to happen?" She turned to address the television. "Christ on a crutch, Ray, I told you last night to stay away from Ben. Why didn't you listen to me?"

Edward and John stared at her as she continued to curse the Chicago duo under her breath.
"Does the Chicago office know about this?" she asked, suddenly rounding on Edward Hoover.
"Yes, Agent Ford is in charge of coordinating the response team. And the Bolts have released RCMP Inspector Thatcher as a 'liaison'," he replied.

Abbey had never met Meg Thatcher and only knew the woman by reputation. Ray often referred to her as 'the dragon lady'. Ben spoke of her in a way that hinted at some sort of unrequited affection. But she knew that one didn't rise to the rank of Inspector with the RCMP if one were totally incompetent, so she tried to remain hopeful that the woman would be able to assist in the release of her subordinate officer and his best friend.

Absent-mindedly, Abbey placed the SR71-J form on Edward Hoover's desk as she watched the courtroom drama unveiling before her eyes. He knew Abbey wanted to get her interview done today but also knew that this was no longer a good time to do it. Instead he watched her and John; watched specifically for her reactions to what was happening.

"Where's this coming from?" she asked, never taking her eyes off the screen.

"Cable feed out of Chicago," he replied.

"WGN?"

"No, Court TV."

In that instant the screen became snowy with static.

"What happened?" Abbey demanded.

"I don't know," Edward replied as he turned off the television. "Must have lost the satellite link or something."

"Damn, damn and double damn on technology," Abbey cursed as she paced the room. She didn't notice John step outside the office and make a phone call. She was so busy cursing and pacing that she didn't realize that he'd been gone for several minutes until he returned carrying a Styrofoam cup.
"What's that?" she asked as he handed it to her.

"Chamomile tea. George said it should help settle your nerves."

Abbey sat down heavily in a chair opposite Edward Hoover's desk.

She was stunned that John knew her well enough to call George when she was distressed. They'd never been on easy terms when she'd worked in Atlanta. He was the kind of person who took little on faith and needed hard core evidence in front of his eyes before he believed anything and was never entirely comfortable with her abilities. They'd managed to work together but it had been difficult. Yet now he was assuming the role of comforter; one she knew didn't come easily to him.

"Thank you, John," she replied as she grasped the cup with both hands.

She sipped the hot liquid carefully, realizing that George must have also told him that she liked her tea extra sweet. The knowledge made her smile.

"Thanks a lot, John."

"I think you just said that."

"Yeah, well, I'm really grateful."

"I'll relay the message to George when I return to Atlanta."

"You do that."

"Abbey?" Edward said.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Here I am cluttering up your office when you've got work to do. I'll take off and leave you to it."

"No need. You can stay here as long as you like. But according to the Chicago field office, we're not going to see anything else from inside the courtroom. They've cut the feed. However, the media is gathered outside the courts' building. We might be able to get something there. What was that station you mentioned again?"

"WGN, Channel 9 in Chicago. No clue what channel it would be here. But they're not a network affiliate so I don't know if they'll be covering it or not."

"I'll find it."

Moments later, he had found it. But Abbey was right. Though they did cover local news, the station was also very mindful of the fact that it was a cable superstation and was loathe to break into its regularly scheduled programming for a story that wouldn't likely interest the majority of their audience. So instead of pictures of the courts building, they were instead treated to an episode of 'MacGyver'. Sighing heavily, Abbey shut off the television.
"Dr. Barnes, why don't you head on home? I'll call you when there's something to report."

"Thanks Ed. But if it's all the same to you, I'd rather stay here." "If that's what you want."

"Yeah, look, I'm gonna go get some chocolate and calm down for a bit. If anybody needs me, I'll be in the canteen."

She exited the office and the two men sat in silence for a while.

"I take it that her boyfriend is involved in this?" Director Hoover asked.

"I'm not sure. I've never met the man but I understand there is someone in Chicago that she's very close to."

"Hmmm," was his reply. He'd read the reports of the serial murder case that Abbey had helped bring to a close, nearly at the cost of her life. And he recalled that there was a detective with the Chicago police department that she'd worked very closely with. But the detective's name didn't readily spring to mind. He pulled up some information on his computer and found what he was looking for. "Ray Vecchio," he said quietly while staring at his computer. It was nearly two hours later when John found Abbey in the canteen. She had her head down on a table and there were a few Milky Way bar wrappers next to her arm. He touched her gently on the arm.
"Abbey? You okay?"

She raised her head and he could clearly see that she wasn't okay. Her eyes were red and still teary.

"Ya know, John, some days I don't understand it. We work and we work and we work and yet for every criminal we put away, it seems like ten more spring up to take his place. How are we supposed to go out and raise children to become happy, healthy, productive citizens when we can't keep them safe? God, what are the Vecchios going to think of me?"

"Abbey, you're not making sense here."

She took a moment to wipe her eyes and blow her nose before she answered him.
"I've known the Vecchio family since I was thirteen years old. And they always treated my like one of their own. When my mom was going through menopause, she developed mood swings that would give you whiplash. And even though I completely understood where they were coming from, sometimes they scared me. So when things got a little tense around home, I'd hop over to Ray's. No one there ever questioned my presence. Maria and Francesca treated me like a big sister and sometimes we'd do make-overs, and listen to 45's on the record player."

"Sounds like a great set-up."

"It was. Two homes for the price of one. And then last year, after I was stabbed, when the hospital released me, Mrs. Vecchio insisted that I stay with them while I recuperated instead of going to a nursing home. She refused to accept any other plan. During the day we'd sit out on the porch swing and talk about her family. Ray's position with the police department worried her. He's been injured more than once in the line of duty. I promised her that I'd always do everything in my power to keep him safe. So here I am sitting impotently in D.C. and there he is in Chicago hooked up to a bomb that could go off at any moment. So much for keeping him safe."

"Abbey, you did the best you could..."

"But that's not good enough, John. I still failed miserably. Despite all the visions and the warnings, Ray and Ben still end up with their lives in danger. Hell for all I know they could be dead by now." "They're not."

"Huh?"

"They're not. We just got word from Chicago that they managed to escape and capture the Bolt brothers."

"What? You let me sit here, blathering on and on and now you tell me that they're okay?" She punched him in the arm to emphasize how upset she was.
"You didn't give me a chance to tell you. But anyway, for your information, we just got a call from Agent McTavish in Chicago. The guys disabled the bomb and caught the Bolt brothers at their real scheme. They were stealing thirty million dollars in bearer bonds that were being held as evidence in another trial. They're talking to the local FBI boys now. Your friend will be safely home for dinner tonight."

Abbey threw her arms around John in an excited and relieved embrace. "Thank you, John. Thank you so much for bringing me this news. I take back all the horrible things I said about you back in Atlanta."

"What horrible things?"

"They're not important now. You've just told me that my best friend is alive and well and that's all that matters."

She kissed him on the cheek and practically skipped out of the building. Getting into her car she made sure the top was down before she started the engine and zipped out onto the road that would take her home.

Despite the day's turmoil, when she got to the cottage she fell into her habits and checked her voicemail first. To her amazement, there was a message from Ray.

'Abbey, it's Ray. I don't know if you heard what happened at the courthouse today but I want you to know that I'm okay. And so is Ben. And before you get put out with us, I promise you that none of this was our fault. We were both coldcocked and then put in that poncho. Remind me to never go to Mexico. Those things itch like crazy. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that we're fine and Ma's cookin' up a feast for us. Think of us while you're eatin' dinner and you can be with us in spirit... Oh and make sure you watch the news tonight. I think you'll enjoy it.'

Abbey smiled as she listened to the message. Digging through the pantry of her small kitchen she found the ingredients she needed to make a respectable marinara sauce. It wouldn't be as good as her mother's or Ma Vecchio's but it would do in a pinch. Getting everything she needed into a saucepan, she put it to simmer on the stove and walked back to her bedroom to change clothes. After a satisfying dinner she washed the dishes and then settled down in front of the television and watched the tail end of the show that preceded WGN's newscast. She listened intently while the anchors spoke briefly of what happened and then cut to the reporter who had covered the story at the courts building.

"This is Melanie Mitchell reporting live from the Cook County Justice Center where all's quiet now. But just a few hours ago a tense hostage situation was unfolding here. Randall Bolt was scheduled to go on trial today for charges stemming from a March hijacking of a train full of Canadian Mounties. However in a surprising move, Randall and his brother Francis took control of the courtroom and wired all 12 members of the jury to plastic explosives. Apparently the brothers planned to steal thirty million dollars worth of bearer bonds that were being held as evidence in a case that was also being tried today. The action was thwarted by two witnesses, RCMP Constable Benton Fraser and Chicago Police Detective Ray Vecchio. Now, these two men were also wired to the explosives but managed to escape and capture the Bolt brothers. We caught up with the men as they left the justice center this afternoon." The scene on tape now showed the building in daylight. A flock of reporters rushed at the two men as they left the steps of the building. Abbey's brows knitted together as she saw that most of the right sleeve of Ben's tunic was missing. And his hair actually looked mussed. She didn't think it was possible but the man actually looked unkempt. And she was surprised that he'd allowed his hair to grow so long. It looked so different.

"Constable Fraser," one of the reporters asked, "how did you manage to free yourself of the explosives?"

"Well, actually it was Detective Vecchio who determined which wire to pull to disarm the bomb," he responded. "Is that true, detective?" someone else asked.

Abbey laughed as Ray actually tucked his head away from the camera as he responded.

"Well, sort of. Fraser was the one who made the original connection."

Then Ben started talking about Ray again. "And he was also the one who had the information on the bonds involved in the Gambello case. In fact, Ray is the one who managed to trick the Bolts into thinking they had the bonds when in fact, Ray had switched the duffel bags and they were carrying the plastic explosives. And it was he who figured out a way to trap them in the elevator shaft."

The camera now turned completely away from the Mountie and all microphones were thrust at the detective. Abbey continued to chortle as she watched her friend, completely embarrassed by the spotlight that was now shining on him. A little more than twenty-four hours ago, he was craving the media's attention - and now he had gotten it but was acting camera shy.

Abbey looked closer at the screen and realized it was no act. Ray was truly uncomfortable with the fame that was being thrust upon him. It only made her laugh harder.

"Be careful what you wish for, Ray," she said quietly. "It might just come true."

The End

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