To Quote Ray: "This Sucks"

by Jackie

pixie7@gte.net

Lynda stood tense, ready to fight. She was dressed in black, spandex shorts and a white tank top. Her bare skin, as well as her clothes, were covered in sweat. She raised her gloved hands at her opponent. "Ready when you are, Stafford."

Stafford smiled as he raised his gloved hands. He stood tense as well, dressed in black sweat pants and a white tank top. Overhead lights caused the sweat to glisten on his bare skin. "Ladies first."

"Very well," Lynda grinned before throwing a right hook. Stafford easily dodged it, then sent one of his own. For a full ten minutes, the fighters sparred in a fighting ring, practicing their fighting skills. They had already drawn a crowd of older men, all amazed at the skills of the young twosome, both fighting on equal standards.

Finally, Stafford was able to deliver a sweep to Lynda's feet, knocking her to the ground. He pinned her shoulders to the mat, holding tight as Lynda struggled. "Give?" he smiled amusingly.

"Give." she gasped.

The crowd clapped as Stafford loosened his grip on her shoulders, but didn't let go. "I believe that's twelve to eleven, which means I win."

"Yeah, only because I let you."

Stafford laughed and gave her a quick kiss on the nose.

"Okay, enough of that. Some of us don't want to throw up."

Lynda smiled and turned her head in the direction of the voice. "Grow up, Ray."

Stanley leaned against the ring and smiled. "Just kidding, you two. But really we need to get going. We've been here for three hours and we're going to be late for dinner."

"Actually, Ray," Fraser spoke up, "we've been here approximately three hours, twenty-two minutes, and fifty-three seconds."

"Whatever. Point is, we've been here a long time, and I'm getting hungry."

"I am, too," Lynda admitted as Stafford helped her to her feet. She took off her sparring gloves, helmet, and boots. "Just let Stafford and me get cleaned up, first." She patted Stafford on the shoulder. "Pretty good, but next time I'm gonna kick your butt."

"You wish," Stafford smiled. They left the ring and went to the separate locker rooms.

"Not bad," Stanley said to Fraser.

"What do you mean, Ray?"

"Lynda, doing that . . . fighting thing. She's really good at it."

"She should be. She is a second-degree black belt, after all."

"Stafford's pretty good, also. I mean, he took Lynda down twelve times, and she's good."

"That she is, Ray."

"Of course, if he ever does that again, I'm kicking his head in."

Fraser smiled, knowing that his partner was only joking. Together, they sat and waited for the young couple. Stafford came out first. He had changed into a pair of brown slack, loafers, sports coat, and a white shirt. His brown hair was slicked back. He carried a duffle bag with his equipment over his shoulder.

"Hey, guys," he greeted the twosome. "You know, Lynda's pretty good."

"She most certainly is," Ray agreed. "Pretty soon, she'll be cleaning your clock every time you two fight."

"That I doubt. Thanks again for inviting me to your mother's tonight for dinner."

"No problem. Ma's looking forward to meeting you and Lynda, as well as seeing Fraser again, right Fraser?"

Fraser nodded, knowing the last time he saw Ma Vecchio was a couple of weeks before the real Ray Vecchio went undercover with the mob. Those were the days, he thought. Sitting around that huge dinner table with Ma Vecchio, the real Ray, Francesca, Tony, Maria, and their kids, listening to the arguments, eating home-cooked Italian dinners, being treated like a real family member.

"Where's Lynda?" Stafford asked. "It's been forty minutes since we stopped fighting."

"You know women," Stanley rolled his eyes. "Always having to fix their hair, do their nails, dress just right . . ."

"Yeah, they make you wait and wait and wait," Stafford agreed, "but it's worth it." He eyed Lynda coming out of the women's locker room and smiled. "And I definitely rest my case."

Lynda indeed was a sight. It was early fall, but still as hot as summer, so she had chosen a simple, white dress - with spaghetti straps - that flowed just below her knees and white flats. Her recently cut hair hung just below her ears in soft waves. All traces of perspiration were gone from her face, now covered in a light layer of makeup. Fraser also detected a hint of perfume.

"Are you gentlemen ready to go, or should I wait a few more minutes?"

"It's about time you came out," Stanley said sternly, grabbing Lynda's duffel bag from her. "Let's get going. I'm hungry." He walked away, with Fraser close behind. Stafford pulled Lynda aside.

"I kinda wish he'd start treating you a little nicer," he said.

"That's just Ray, okay, Stafford? He's a cop, after all. He's always had an attitude, from what I gather." Secretly, she was smiling to herself. Although her father treated her rudely sometimes, she knew it was to deter suspicion about who Stanley really was. Poor Stafford, she thought. He doesn't have clue.

Together, the walked outside, where Stanley had loaded Lynda's bag into his car and was starting to get in when Lynda flagged him. While Stafford was loading his bag into the trunk, father and daughter moved out of hearing distance, keeping their voices as low as possible.

"What's up?" Stanley asked.

"Is everything in order?"

"Yeah, it's only going to be the adults tonight, no kids. Everyone there knows that you're my daughter, and that Stafford doesn't know about anything."

"I feel so bad about not being able to tell him. I mean, it's not like he would tell anyone."

Stanley sighed. "Lynda, we've been through this before. When you and Stafford started dating after you got better a month ago (See 'Forget Me Not'), Welsh gave you specific orders not to say a word, remember?"

"I remember, Ray. I don't have amnesia again. I just . . . well, what will happen when the real Ray comes back? I'm going to have to tell Stafford, then, right? He may not even trust me anymore, since I am lying to him."

"We'll worry about that when it happens, okay?"

Lynda nodded. The two walked over to the car and got in. Fraser and Stafford were already in the car waiting. "Everything okay?" Stafford asked.

"She's just a little nervous about meeting my family," Stanley replied. He started the car and pulled away from the curb.

"Don't be," Stafford took her hands in his. "Just be yourself and they'll love you. I know I already do."

Stanley rolled his eyes. It wasn't that he didn't like Stafford hanging out with his daughter. He really liked the guy. No, it was just the way he talked to her all the time: that sappy, mushy love talk. It was enough to make you wanna gag.

"Raimundo!" Ma Vecchio greeted her 'son'. "Benito, good to see you! It's been a while." She quickly hugged both gentlemen.

"Hi, Ma," Stanley smiled as his 'mother' kissed his cheek.

"It's a pleasure to be here, Mrs. Vecchio."

"And this must be Lynda," Ma Vecchio saw the young woman standing next to Fraser. "She is so pretty! Hello, my dear." She kissed Lynda's cheek.

"Good evening, Mrs. Vecchio," Lynda smiled brightly. "This is Stafford Travis, my boyfriend." She indicated the young man beside her.

"Hello, Mrs. Vecchio," Stafford smiled warmly. "Thank you for inviting me tonight."

"Oh, don't worry about it, deary. Come on, everyone in!" She herded the group into the Vecchio house. Both Stanley and Fraser were amazed at how beautifully the house had been rebuilt, less than a year after being torched by Zoltan Motherwell's girlfriend.

Everyone went into the dining room, where the rest of the Vecchio clan was seated. Tony and Marie were arguing about their children, but quickly quieted when introductions were made. After everyone was seated the meal began.

"So, Lynda," Ma Vecchio began as she passed around the lasagna platter, "Francesca and Raimundo both tell me what a wonderful Civilian Aid you are down at the Station."

"It's a lot of work, but I enjoy it. Being the youngest person working there doesn't help."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Francesca asked.

"Frannie, I'm nineteen years old. It's no secret that you treat me as if I'm a little kid."

"You're not even twenty!"

"Yeah, but at least I can work a computer and program an entire system. Who was the one who found the virus after twelve hours of searching? Who took the entire Division's computer system apart and rebuilt it with her own money and hands? Who was the one -"

"Okay, Lynda, we get the picture," Stanley interrupted.

Tony turned to his wife. "And everyone thought we argued the most."

"All I'm saying is that I would like a little more courtesy and respect. I obey the rules, do

everything promptly and on time, and dress appropriately." She shot a look at Francesca. "And yet, a fellow Civilian Aid worker, who wears clothes so loud and revealing, gets more respect that I do."

"Well, Lynda," Stanley said over a mouthful of lasagna, "to be honest, no one at work respects Frannie, either."

"Thanks bro," Francesca grumbled loudly.

Stanley smiled amusingly. "No problem, sis."

Fraser cleared his throat. Time to change the subject. "So, Lynda how is the band coming along?"

Lynda smiled. She loved talking about her pride and joy. "It's going really great, Fraser. Everyone's been treating Stafford really nice, and he's a great piano player. We've also been working on getting Huey and Dewy's song worked through, so we should be able to start rehearsing it in a week."

"I still can't believe the Duck Boys wrote a song," Stanley muttered.

"Ray, give them a break. It's really good."

"What kind of music does your band play?" Tony asked.

"Country."

"You know, I've always wondered why people like country," Ma Vecchio spoke up. "Isn't it about pickup trucks and broken hearts?"

"Well, there are a lot of songs about that stuff, Mrs. Vecchio," Lynda answered, "but there's also the songs about falling in love, doing crazy stuff, and just having a good time."

"Name one song that's good," Tony challenged.

"Okay . . . well, how about Faith Hill's 'This Kiss'?"

"How's it go?"

Lynda cleared her throat and began to sing a capella. "It's the way you love me, it's a feeling like this, it's centrifugal motion, it's perpetual bliss, it's that pivotal moment, it's ah impossible, this kiss, this kiss, unstoppable, this kiss, this kiss."

"Wow, that pretty," Maria said after she had finished. Tony just grunted and continued eating.

"If you want, I can get you a copy of the entire song," Lynda offered.

"Thanks." Maria resumed eating. Lynda looked at Stanley, who smiled. The Vecchio family was really warm and welcoming, just like Fraser had said they'd be.

"That was a great dinner," Stafford remarked as he and Lynda walked by themselves, holding hands, in Grant Park. Nighttime had long since fallen. "Ray's family is really nice."

"They are indeed. Then again, that's Italians for you: even if you're not family, they'll treat you as if you are."

"You know, there was something a bit unusual about Ray. He didn't look like any of his family."

"Yeah, well, Ray told me he . . . takes after his grandfather." Lynda quickly glanced down to see if her nose had grown. It hadn't, but she still felt bad.

"That's normal."

"Ray said he feels like the black sheep of the family. I feel so bad for him. I -"

"Not to sound rude Lynda, but enough about Ray. We have the rest of the night - in which Ray was nice enough to let us come here by ourselves - and I want to have some fun with my girlfriend, not talk about her friends from work."

"Like what type of fun?"

"This." He titled her chin up and gave her a soft, but passionate kiss on the lips.

All traces of guilt washed from Lynda as she smiled. "Mmmm. Ray who?"

Stafford chuckled and looked into her blue eyes, which shone like sapphires. "You know, I'm glad you finally got rid of your glasses and got contacts."

"Yeah, well, the glasses were becoming a pain in the butt, having to clean them every time they smudged. Not to mention they made my nose sore after awhile."

They continued walking until they came to Buckingham Fountain. This was one of

Lynda's favorite sites of Chicago, one of the areas of the city you could lose yourself completely. She loved the way the fountain reminded her of her trips to France and seeing the Versailles fountains. She remembered one time, late at night, she and her mother jumped into one of the fountains and ran barefoot through the cold water.

"What's on your mind?" Stafford asked. "You look distant."

"Just thinking about when I was in France with my mom, and how we used to run through the fountains." She looked around. Even though it was only nine-thirty this area of the park was deserted, except for the two of them. "Hey, come on, let's do it."

"Run barefoot through the fountain? Lynda, are you nuts?"

"No one's around. Come on!" She ran over to the edge of the fountain and removed her shoes. She then jumped into the fountain and laughed. "Oh, the water's so cold!"

In spite of himself, Stafford smiled, then joined her. Soon, they were running among the bronze seahorse statues, laughing and splashing, having a good time. After about ten minutes, the stopped to catch their breaths.

"Man, that was fun," Stafford gasped, his clothes sprinkled with water.

"Told you so."

"I hate it when you're right." He pulled her closely and kissed her passionately.

Lynda smiled. "If this is what I get as punishment, then I'll be right more often."

Stafford just grinned. "Fine with me." He opened his eyes and was startled to see a red pinpoint of light on her forehead. It reminded him of those types of lasers used in hunting weapons. His eyes opened wide in terror.

"Lynda, get down!" he shouted pushing her to the ground. He ducked himself just as a loud noise filled the air. A split second later, a bullet whizzed by, ricocheting of the seahorse next to them.

They both stood up quickly, their clothes soaked, as another bullet barely missed Lynda. "What's going on?" she cried.

"Let's worry about getting out of here alive, first." After they both got to their feet, the ran toward the statue and hid behind it, gasping for breath as a barrage of bullets hit the statue. Stafford took a deep breath, then - to Lynda's surprise - pulled a gun from his coat. "FBI! Put your weapons down and your hands in the air, or I will shoot!" He was answered with another barrage of bullets.

"FBI?" Lynda whispered in disbelief.

Stafford took aim in the direction of where the bullets came from and fired three times. A cry and groan was heard, then nothing. Stafford turned to Lynda. "Stay here." Then, he disappeared around the statue.

Lynda leaned against the statue, trying to collect her thoughts. She soon became aware of the sound of police sirens growing louder. She dared to look around the statue and saw Stafford, about fifty feet away, kneeling beside a man. Lynda knew that the man was dead.

Slowly she ventured out of the fountain and put her shoes on as police cars pulled up. Already a crowd began to form. Lynda recognized some of the officers from her work, but thankfully they didn't recognize her. Stafford stood up as one of the officers came up to him.

"FBI," Stafford whipped out a badge from his coat. "This guy's dead."

"What happened?" the officer asked, putting away his gun.

Stafford explained as much as he could, then left the officers to attend to the situation. He walked over to Lynda. She was sitting on the side of the fountain, completely soaked from what happened earlier. He could tell immediately that she was not happy. "Uh, I guess we need to talk."

"That is an understatement," was all she said as she got up and walked away. Stafford quietly followed behind her.

During the taxi ride back to Lynda's apartment, not one word was spoken between herself and Stafford. It wasn't until they were both inside her place that she blew up.

"FBI?!" she shouted. "You mind telling me what the hell is going on here?"

"Lynda, I -"

"Who are you?" Lynda glared at Stafford. "Tell me the truth."

Stafford looked at his girlfriend, how her eyes burned into him. There was no way around it. He sighed. "Okay, here's the truth: My real name is Derek Laramie. I'm twenty-three-years-old and I work for the F.B.I."

Lynda stared at him in disbelief. "You joking."

Derek whipped out a badge and identification from his pocket. He showed it to Lynda, then put it away. "I'm not joking, Lynda."

"You lied to me," Lynda said in the calmest voice Derek had ever heard as she turned her back on him. "For the entire time I've known you, you've lied to me."

"Yes, I did," Derek answered. "But I have -"

"Why? Why the secrecy and the lies?"

"Because the F.B.I. is interested in why your stepfather killed your mother and tried to kill you."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I have no stepfather. James is my real father."

""Oh, sorry, I forgot. I know that James is your stepfather. Your real father is Stanley Kowalski and he's masquerading as Ray Vecchio."

"How?" she asked as the slowly turned around.

"It's an F.B.I. thing. We, along with the ATF, put Vecchio in with the mob in the first place, then asked your father to cover for him."

"Well, why me? Why are you following me around?"

"Because you received a disk from your mom after she was killed. Do you remember?"

"Yes. James was after it. That's why he tried to kill me."

"Do you know what was on that disk?" Lynda shook her head. "It was a top-secret computer virus that could wipe out all the defense programs of the entire world, allowing the owner of the disk to control all the weapons of the world. Your mom created it, then gave it to you for safe keeping."

"And let me guess," Lynda folded her arms across her chest. "The F.B.I. wants it."

Derek nodded. "That's why they sent me to Chicago. I was to get close enough to you to get the disk."

"So, basically . . . you used me." Lynda took a deep breath as she slowly crossed the room to him. "Why you slimy, blood-sucking maggot!" She slapped him hard across the face. "How could you?!"

Derek rubbed his cheek. "Don't think I enjoyed lying to you. It hurt me not to be able to tell you."

"Why should I believe that?" Tears started spilling down her cheeks. "I loved you, and it was all based on a lie!" Lynda started crying uncontrollably as she turned away. Derek put a hand on her shoulder, but she jerked away. "Leave me alone!"

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Lynda." Derek said gently as he pulled his hand away. "James and his men will try to kill you again. You'd be safer giving us that disk."

"Never. I made a promise to myself that I would never let that disk out of my sight."

"I understand that, but this is a matter of national and international security."

"No, this is a matter of love and trust, Derek," Lynda turned around. "I trusted you with my life, and now I find out that you're an F.B.I. agent and everything I thought was the truth is a lie."

"If that's the case, then I can get on to you about the same thing."

"It's not the same thing, and you know it."

"Really? We both lied to each other about who we really were and -"

"Yeah, but at least I didn't lie so I could get close to you for a stupid disk, then up and leave after I get it."

"That's not fair, Lynda."

"Fair?!" Lynda closed her eyes and silently counted to five. "Get out." Lynda spoke through clenched teeth. "Get out of my apartment and don't ever come back."

"I can't do that."

"Get out!" Lynda screamed. She took a small crystal vase from the coffee table and flung it at Derek. He barely had enough time to duck as it whizzed passed his head and hit the wall behind him, shattering into many pieces.

Derek stood taller, looked at the broken vase, then turned to face Lynda. His face shown astonishment and hurt at what she had did. "Fine," he answered in a calm voice. "I'm going." He quickly left through her front door, closing it softly behind him.

Lynda immediately ran over and secured all the locks on the door. Then she threw herself on her couch. She began to cry again, not caring how loud she sobbed. Suddenly, a small whine caught her attention. She looked up to see Dief standing next to her.

"Oh, Dief, what am I going to do?" Dief gave her a small lick before nuzzling under her chin. For a long time, she just lay there, stroking his head and sobbing until, finally, she cried herself to sleep. For the entire night, Dief never left her side.

"Good morning, Lynda," Fraser greeted Lynda as she and Dief walked over to her desk the next morning. He and Stanley were looking at a file on Stanley's desk.

"Hey, Lynda," Stanley smiled.

"Morning," she mumbled as she sat in her chair.

Stanley and Fraser glanced at each other, then walked over to her desk.

"Is something wrong?" Fraser asked as he looked down at her.

Lynda looked up at her friend and father. She was dressed in her Civilian Aid uniform, black slacks, and loafers, and her hair was neatly styled, but her face looked out of place. There were dark circles under her eyes, which were clouded, puffy, and red from crying. Her entire face was paler than the rest of her skin.

"Lynda, what's wrong?" Stanley asked as he knelt beside his daughter. He appeared quite concerned. "Does this have anything to do with the shooting at Buckingham Fountain last night?"

"What?" she answered, her voice wavering. "Oh . . . yeah."

"Did you see it?" Stanley looked her.

"Listen, uh, I need to talk to you two about - aw, crap," Lynda grumbled. The two men looked down to see Lynda staring at something in the distance. It was Derek and three other men. They were all wearing black suits and trench coats, and carrying small file folders. Fraser noticed two of them were Agent Ford and Agent Travis, Stafford's father.

Lynda caught Derek eyes and just glared at him. He and the others eyed her expressionlessly as they walked by her desk. They made their way to Lieutenant Welsh's office and disappeared in it.

"Lynda, do you know what's going on here?" Stanley asked.

Lynda seemed distracted as she counted down on her fingers. "Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, zero."

As if on cue, Welsh stuck his head out of his office. "Lynda, Vecchio, Constable, my office. Now."

All three friends walked into the office, Fraser and Stanley shooting glances at each other and Lynda. Welsh shut the door behind them, then went and sat at his desk. Lynda stood between Fraser and Stanley in front of the desk and looked around the room. Stafford and the three men were sporadically placed around the tiny office.

Welsh sighed. "Lynda, do you know why I called you and the others in here?"

"No, but I'll bet it has something to do with the FBI," she answered sarcastically.

"Lynda, watch it," Welsh replied sternly. Lynda frowned and crossed her arms.

"F.B.I.?" Stanley looked at Lynda.

"Yeah, it seems that they want the disk Mom gave me," she answered.

"Yes, and we would appreciate having Miss Peterson's cooperation," Agent Ford said.

"Who are you, Men In Black rejects?" Stanley asked. Lynda stifled a giggle. "And why is Stafford here?"

"Special Agent Ford," the man said. He jerked his thumb to the other agents. "Agents Harrison and Travis. I believe you already know Mr. Travis, or as we refer to him, Special Agent Derek Laramie."

"He's one of them?" Stanley asked.

"Yeah," Lynda answered. "Oh, he's twenty-three-years-old, and he's been using me to get the disk. And the FBI knows you're really my father, not James. Derek was the one who killed the guy who was trying to kill me last night."

"What do you mean 'kill you'?"

"James got out of prison. Stafford - excuse me, Derek, informed me that he's trying to get the disk again."

"I never said James had escaped," Derek spoke up. "He's still behind bars."

"He has hired some other people to kill you for that disk," Ford spoke up. "We've been keeping an eye on him lately. He's had three visitors, who visited him two days ago. Also, a shipment of automatic weapons en route to the city was highjacked yesterday by two masked men. The man Agent Laramie shot last night fit the description of one of the men who was one of James' visitors, as did his gun."

"Whoa, hold on a second," Welsh spoke up. "You knew ever since yesterday that Lynda was in danger, and yet you never thought about telling us?"

"There was no need to."

"There was every need to!" Welsh banged his fists hard on his desk. The noise thundered through the room. "Lynda happens to be one of my Civilian Aids. If she had gotten hurt or killed last night because of your incompetence, then I would have personally landed a lawsuit against you and the FBI so hard, it would have felt like a ton a bricks!"

"Don't threaten me, Lieutenant," Ford sneered. "By not giving us the disk Lynda is withholding evidence in a federal investigation. That's punishable by time in prison. Also, her failure to hand over the disk will result in this entire precinct being detained for obstruction of justice."

"You can't do that," Lynda growled.

"Actually, they can, Lynda," Welsh replied, sitting back in his chair. He hated it, but they were right. He sighed. "Give them the disk."

"What?!" Lynda faced her superior.

"They have the right to that disk," Welsh explained.

"I will never give up that disk. I made a promise I would never let it off of my person."

"That's right, Lynda," Stanley backed his daughter. "You don't have to -"

"Can it, Vecchio," Welsh silenced him. "Lynda?"

"They want the disk? Fine, I'll get the disk." Lynda walked out of the office. The four agents exchanged victorious glances as she returned with a small, unlabeled, three and one-half inch disk. She handed it over to Ford. "Here."

Ford took the disk and starting to leave with the others. He made it to the door, when she spun around. "But are you good enough to solve it in three chances or less?" she asked.

The agents spun around. "What do you mean?"

"Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to try to decode the disk with no more than three errors," Lynda said. "Should you fail, a virus on the disk - personally created by moi - will be activated, which in turn would cause the disk to self-destruct. Any questions?" She folded her arms across her chest and looked smug.

Stanley smiled at his daughter. You go, girl."

"Thank you," she replied. "You see, Agent Ford? I knew sooner or later someone would try to get the disk. That's why I loaded that virus into it. I knew that whatever was on that disk must have been important for my mother to lose her life."

Ford turned beet-red. "Give me that code."

Lynda tried to maintain her composure, but was thoroughly enjoying taunting the FBI like this. "What's in it for me?"

"We will make sure you stay safe, Lynda," Derek spoke up. "I will personally see to that."

"No deal," Lynda replied. "The only way you can have the code is by capturing James' men. Then, I'll release the code and disk."

"And how are you going to get the disk back?" Ford asked as he put the disk in his pocket and patted it.

"Like this." Lynda waved her hands. The disk magically appeared in them a second later. Everyone stared flabbergasted at her. "It pays to know David Copperfield." Ford frantically searched his pockets, but they were empty. Lynda smiled confidently. "Now, do we have a deal?"

The agents glanced at each other, then sighed, knowing full well they had no choice. They nodded. Lynda put the disk in her pants pocket and smiled. "Now, I want you gentlemen - and I use that term loosely - to get out of this precinct and do your job."

"But who's going to watch over you?" Derek asked.

"I can do fine on my own, thanks."

"I don't think you understand, Lynda," Derek retorted. "James is a killer; he will do anything to get his hands on that disk. You need protection."

"Don't patronize me, okay?" Lynda replied. "I've seen what a monster he is, remember? I watched him gun down my own mother in front of me. But there is no way that the FBI is going to be my bodyguard, especially you. I have all the protection I need from Ray, Fraser, and Dief."

"Lynda," Welsh interrupted. "All things considered, I want you to have the FBI's protection." Lynda started to protest, but Welsh held up a hand. "That's an order, do you understand?

Lynda threw up her hands in disgust. "Fine." She walked out of the office. The agents joined her.

"Vecchio?"

"Yes, sir?"

"You and Fraser tag along, as well. I don't trust those guys . . . I take it Lynda didn't know the truth about Stafford - uh, Derek?"

"No she didn't, sir.

"Well, that would explain why she was acting the way she did." He sighed. "Listen, keep an eye on her until this is over."

"We will, Leftenant."

Stanley and Fraser walked out of the office and joined Lynda at her desk. Ford and his three agents were at the desk. Stanley frowned. "Do you think you could leave us alone for a minute?"

"No can do. From this point on, wherever Lynda goes, we're going to be her shadows," Harrison answered.

"Yeah, well, so are we."

"This is our case, Detective."

"Yeah, but she's my . . . responsibility."

Dief, who had been laying near Lynda's feet, suddenly growled, his furry neck bristling, his lip curled back. The agents backed away. "Dief," Fraser said sternly, "no." Dief ignored him. "Diefenbaker."

"Could you call of the wolf?" Ford glared at Fraser.

"Dief, please," Lynda placed her hand on Dief's head. Dief gave one last growl before sitting protectively next to her. "Besides, they'd give you indigestion." She sighed and rubbed her temples. "Look, I have a headache, and I'm not feeling too well. I'm going home."

"We're coming with you," Ford said.

"Like hell you are," Lynda stood up on her toes until she was nose-to-nose with Ford. "Look, you are not going to be coming into my apartment."

"I have my orders. We are setting up a rendevous and surveillance ASAP."

"You want to know what I think of your orders? You can take your orders and shove them up your -"

"Lynda, please," Fraser grabbed her shoulders gently. "Calm down."

Lynda shot the Mountie a look that could kill. "Fraser, are you out of your mind? I do not want these . . . agents in my apartment."

"Ford, come on," Derek frowned. "We don't have any jurisdiction to do that." Ford whipped out a piece of paper and handed it to Derek. "Okay, maybe we do."

"I don't believe this," Lynda grumbled.

"Sorry, Lynda," Derek looked honestly apologetic. "We'll leave as soon as we get James' men. Trust me."

"I don't have to trust anyone. Especially you." Lynda glared at him before stalking off. Fraser, Stanley, and Dief followed, with the agents close behind.

"Before you goons take one step into my place," Lynda said to the agents before opening her apartment door, "let's get a few things straight. Number one, you want food, get takeout. Number two, I'll let you use one of my bathrooms, but you can provide your own shower stuff, okay? Number three, you make a mess, you clean it up. Number four, you're not to touch any of my electronic equipment. Number five, the guest bedrooms are for Ray and Fraser. You guys can sleep in the living room. And number six, anyone who steps out of line will be drop-kicked so hard it'll make your head swim. Do I make myself clear?"

"As crystal," Derek eyed his friends. "Do you think -" Lynda stormed into the apartment and disappeared into her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her. "Never mind."

Everyone piled into the living room, where the agents deposited their equipment.

"This is stupid," Stanley remarked as the agents set up their computers and other devices.

"You can always leave," Harrison sneered.

"I'm not leaving my daughter with you morons."

"Better watch it, Stanley."

"Don't call me that. You know, Lynda was right. You can take all this crap and shove it up your -"

"Ray, please," Fraser interrupted. "Arguing with each other is not going to make this investigation go any faster. I suggest that we leave Agent Ford and his colleagues, and go talk to Lynda. She needs us."

Both Stanley and Derek looked at Fraser. Stanley quickly looked at Derek, who turned his attention back to his work. Stanley and Fraser left the room while Dief watched the agents, and went to Lynda's bedroom. Stanley knocked lightly. "Lynda?" He slowly opened the door and saw Lynda lying on her bed, her back turned to him. "Can we come in?"

"Sure," Lynda's voice wavered.

Stanley and Fraser entered her room and closed the door behind them. Stanley went over and sat next to his daughter. Fraser stood at the foot of the bed. "You okay?" Stanley asked.

"How could he do that me?" Lynda asked. Her voice indicated she was crying.

"He shouldn't have done that to you," Stanley agreed. "He's a jerk."

"I . . . I thought he cared about me. All he was doing was using me."

"He's a slimy, frog-sucking salamander. He messed with you, and now he better watch it."

Lynda sat up. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. Gingerly, she placed a hand on her father's shoulder. "Ray, please don't do anything, okay? This is a matter that, one way or another, Derek and I are going to have to settle ourselves. But first, I have to get my feelings sorted out."

"Lynda, he lied to you. How can you possibly think he cares about you, let alone that you love him?"

"I know how she feels, Ray," Fraser spoke up. "A girl I loved used me, nearly destroyed my life and my friendship with Ray, and put me in the hospital after Ray shot me in the back."

"You shot Fraser?" Lynda looked at her father in disbelief.

"The other Ray," Fraser corrected her.

"What happened?"

"Well, I was running after Victoria and got between her and Ray, and he fired. Bullet nearly paralyzed me."

"I think she means what happened between you and Victoria, Fraser."

"Oh. Well, to make a long story short, Victoria Metcalfe used me and framed Ray and myself for vicious crimes. All for money. Even then, after everything she did to me and Ray, I still had feelings for her."

"Still bringing up her, huh?" Fraser's father materialized next to him. "Son, she was evil."

"I know."

"What do you know, Fraser?" Lynda asked. She and Stanley were, obviously, oblivious to the ghost.

"She was an evil person, Lynda," Fraser answered.

"Derek isn't evil," Lynda sniffed. "I know him."

"The Yank's daughter sounds just like you, son."

"Lynda, how do you know that?" Stanley asked. "You've only known him a few months. How can you possibly know everything about him?"

"I guess I can say the same thing about you and Fraser, then, huh? I mean, I've only know you both for, what four, five months now? Yet, I know that you two would never hurt me."

"She has a point, Ray."

Stanley stared at his daughter for a few seconds, then sighed. "Look, I still think the guy's scum, okay? I don't understand why you're defending him, but as my daughter, I'll let you sort out your feelings. But if Derek tries to hurt you further, he's going to have to mess with me, all right?" Lynda gave a slight smile. Stanley brushed a tear from her cheek, then kissed her on the forehead. "Get some rest. Fraser and I will make sure you're not disturbed."

Lynda curled up on her bed as Stanley and Fraser left her room. Fraser shot one glance into the room, seeing his father had vanished. As they walked down the hallway, they nearly bumped into Derek.

"Sorry," Derek apologized. "Listen, can I see Lynda?"

"No," Stanley scowled at him. "In case you haven't noticed, she's not exactly in the mood to see you."

"I need to talk to her."

Stanley silently counted to ten. "Fraser?" His eyes never left Derek.

"Yes, Ray?"

"Could you leave us alone?"

Fraser nodded, and quickly left. After he had disappeared around the corner, Stanley grabbed Derek by the lapels of his suit and slammed him against the wall. "Let me give you a piece of advice: stay away from my daughter from now on."

Derek glared at Stanley before quickly freeing himself. "Don't do that again. Now, I'm going to go talk to Lynda." He started walking towards her bedroom.

Stanley stepped boldly in front of him. "No, you're not."

"Try and stop me."

"Okay." Stanley balled up a fist and was about ready to let it fly when someone grabbed it. He turned around to see Lynda holding his arm.

"Dad, please."

"Lynda, shouldn't you be resting?" Stanley asked as he relaxed his arm.

"It's kind of hard to when my father and my -" she stopped suddenly " . . . are fighting right outside my door." She took a deep breath before continuing. "Look, my patience is wearing extremely thin right now. So, knock it off, okay?"

She went into her room and slammed the door shut. Stanley and Derek heard her crying. The Detective's heart was breaking as he listened to Lynda, but he managed one last glare at Derek before walking into the computer room and shutting the door. Derek stood his ground for a minute before reluctantly rejoining the other agents in the living room.

That night seemed long to Lynda. She locked herself in her room and refused to come out all evening. She was mad at the entire world right now, and didn't want to talk to anyone, including her father. But it wasn't like she was mad at him, it was just . . . she had so many thoughts that needed to be worked out, but she wanted to do it on her own terms, not with anyone's help. At least, not yet.

Sleeping was pointless, so, at four fifty-three, Lynda finally got out of bed, and changed into a jogging outfit. Quietly, she left her room and made her way into the living room, where Dief was laying under the coffee table. Thankfully, the agents were all sound asleep. Lynda motioned for Dief to come to her quietly, and together they left the apartment.

They made their way into the lobby, where they were greeted by Chuck, the other doorman. She wasn't too familiar with him, since he worked the night shift and she was usually sleeping at this hour, but he was still a nice person. He tipped his hat to her and held the door open for the duo as they made their way into the streets.

Lynda began jogging toward Lake Shore Boulevard, with Dief trotting beside her. Together, they jogged down Lake Shore until the came to Navy Pier. Even though the park was closed, Lynda and Dief managed to jog around the park until they came to the end of the pier. Lynda sat and dangled her feet over the edge as Dief lay next to her. Only the sounds of the water lapping and the wind blowing were heard.

She thought the long jog would clear her thoughts, but it only made them grow stronger. She stared across Lake Michigan, seeing the sun's early morning rays peeking over the horizon. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of silence, Dief sat up and whined.

"What is it, boy?"

"Woof, woof."

"I'll be fine. I'm just . . . hurting right now." Dief gave her a lick on her nose, then nuzzled against her. Lynda smiled for the first time in a long time. "Thanks, Dief." She lay her head next on his shoulder and just started to pet him.

"Don't you think it's time to be getting back to your place?" a new voice interrupted the quietness.

Lynda and Dief jerked their heads toward the voice and could make out a familiar silhouette. "Fraser?"

"Good morning, Lynda." Fraser came to her and sat beside her. He was dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt, and he carried his Stetson.

"I don't know if I'd call it 'good'. What are you doing here?"

"The question is, why are you here?"

"I thought a morning jog would help clear my thoughts. Besides, I had to get out of the apartment. It's like . . . oh, I don't even know what it's like."

"I understand. Unfortunately, I don't think the agents will."

"Yeah, well, they can just kiss my butt for all I care."

"Lynda, you're letting your personal emotions cloud your judgement. This isn't like you."

"I've never been lied to like this, Fraser . . . why is it that I hate Derek so much, yet I still love him?"

"I can't answer that, Lynda. Love is a complicated matter, something that even baffles me. All I can say is that you will have to talk to Derek about how you feel. As much as you don't like to hear this, he does, at least, deserve that."

"I don't know if I can again."

"Again?"

"I, uh, I yelled at him, slapped him across the face, and threw a vase at him right after finding out who he really was."

"That's understandable, Lynda. You were angry, and you reacted the only way you knew how. But, one day - and it should be as soon as possible - you will need to talk to him, calmly, and decide what you two are going to do about your relationship."

Lynda sighed. "I still think he's a jerk."

"Well, he may be, but not talking about it is only going to make matters worse, especially for you. You'd be surprised. Talking about your anger to Derek my alleviate some it."

Lynda thought about it for a few moments. "I'll think about it," she finally replied.

Fraser nodded and questioned her no further. Together, the threesome watched the sun rise over the lake, and then took a taxi back to Lynda's apartment. Unfortunately, Agent Harrison was not too pleased by her disappearing act.

"Where the hell have you been?" he asked her the moment she stepped inside her place.

"Jogging," Lynda glared at him. "Last time I checked, it was still a legal activity."

"Don't get smart with me, Peterson. You were behaving recklessly."

"Blow it out your ear." Dief growled in agreement.

The remaining group - Stanley, Fraser, and the other agents - just stood off to one side and watched. Stanley knew his daughter could handle Harrison, even though he wanted to sock the guy himself.

"That does it. Until this investigation is over, you are forbidden from leaving these premises."

"Now, hold on just one second," Stanley interrupted. "You can't do that."

"I just did."

Derek's face was starting to get red. "Peter, look, she didn't -"

"Can it, Laramie. This is my case, not yours. And I am not going to let some over-reacting, blond bimbo cloud my judgement . . . unlike certain people I can name." He turned to face Lynda, but met, instead, her balled up fist. She hit him square in the eye, sending him stumbling back. Harrison covered his eye as Lynda stood in front of him.

"Might want to get some ice for that," Lynda said calmly before leaving the living room.

"You deserved that," Derek glared in agreement. "You have no business treating Lynda that way." Harrison scowled at Derek before going into the kitchen. "Jerk."

"Is he always like this?" Stanley asked. "Because if he is, I don't want him hanging around my daughter."

"Agent Harrison was first assigned to the Charleston case three years ago, when he first started embezzling money from the Peterson Company, money which was never recovered," Agent Travis explained. "Harrison was never able to prove some of the allegations the FBI wanted to bring him up on - especially after some key files just vanished - so Charleston managed to slip through our fingers. Harrison didn't take it too well, and has been after Charleston ever since."

"'Vanished'?" Stanley asked. "Things just don't vanish in the FBI."

"Well, they do, okay?" Ford frowned. "We weren't too thrilled about it, either."

"So, what's the plan for catching him?"

"We'll have to wait until he tries something," Derek answered. "We have no idea where to start with, since one of our suspects is dead."

Stanley sighed. "Look, the only reason I'm tolerating you guys is because Charleston wants my daughter dead. You do your stuff quickly and quietly, then get the hell out of our lives." He said those words to everyone, but meant them for Derek. He stalked out of the room. "Come on, Fraser." Fraser and Dief followed Stanley to the computer room, where Lynda was already typing away at her keyboard.

"If they think I'm going to be an angel about this whole thing," Lynda said, "then they've got another thing coming to them."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Stanley asked.

"If I'm going to be stuck in my apartment, I'm gonna give them hell about it. They're going to be sorry they incarcerated me."

"Well, while you're . . . typing, I'm going to give Welsh a call. Let him know what's going on." Stanley called Welsh on his cell phone, then let Fraser call Inspector Thatcher.

"Unfortunately, I have to go," Fraser said after he finished his call. "Inspector Thatcher needs me to run some important errands."

"Would this be getting her dry cleaning or picking up lunch, Fraser?" Lynda asked wryly.

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, Fraser," Stanley answered. "Everyone knows you do the Ice Queen's favors."

"Ray," Fraser warned, not liking the name Stanley chose for his superior.

"So, which is it?"

"Both actually."

"I rest my case," Lynda retorted.

"I'll try to stop by later on to make sure everyone is still alive," Fraser replied wryly before he left the room. "Remember about what I said Lynda."

"Bye, Frase," Lynda said.

"What did you two talk about?" Stanley asked.

"Fraser thinks that I should talk to Derek about how I feel."

"Lynda, if he doesn't know how you feel, then he's an idiot."

"You know what I mean."

"Why? I mean, he lied to you about who he was. He's a jerk."

"I know, but . . ."

"But what?"

"Well, don't overreact, but despite what Derek did . . . I still love him."

"Lynda, that's crazy! He LIED to you."

"That's why it hurts so much." She sighed. "Look, do you think I'd be getting this upset about Derek if I didn't really care about him?"

Stanley sighed. "You got a point. Look, you just do what you have to do, all right? I'll back you up no matter what."

Lynda smiled. "I know you will."

"So, what're you doing?" Stanley peered closely at the computer screen.

"Well, thought I might put my skills to work and see if I can find anything that might help the FBI."

"Lynda -?"

"So, they can get out of here quicker."

"Ah . . . how?"

"I'm going to get a copy of the surveillance camera that recorded James' visit with the suspects. Maybe it can give us a clue to finding out who they are."

"Can you do that? Legally, I mean."

"Well . . . not exactly, but are you going to arrest me?" Stanley smiled. "Just don't tell Fraser, okay? You know how he is about this kind of stuff." She typed a few more keys and soon uploaded the file from the state penitentiary. "Voila. Now, let's run this thing and see who we have." She started the video. Together, they watched the video as it played.

Lynda spied the first suspect, the one who had tried to kill her at Buckingham Fountain, talking at a table with James. "That's Tony Caruso," she explained. "He had a pretty long list which included gun smuggling and drug dealing."

"Yeah, I remember him."

The camera panned across the small room, showing the second suspect. Lynda paused the video and typed a set of codes, enlarging the second suspect's face. She printed out a copy and handed it to Stanley. "Seen him before?"

"Unfortunately, no," Stanley answered after eyeing the copy.

"I'll call Frannie, and see what she can do." Lynda grabbed the receiver of a nearby phone and dialed the number as she walked over to her fax machine. "Hey, Frannie, it's Lynda. Listen, I'm going to fax you a suspect. Get me everything you can on the guy and fax it to my place, all right?" She hung up the phone and quickly faxed the copy to Francesca. She went back to playing the video, but was unable to locate the third suspect. "That's odd. Where's the other guy? Wasn't there supposed to be someone else?"

"Yeah. That's what Ford said." Suddenly, it clicked in his mind. "Lynda, you don't think that there's more to this than what we're being told, do you?"

"Like what?"

"Ford lied to us. Why?"

"It's the FBI. They lie to everyone."

"I mean, why tell us there are three visitors when we only see two? Something's fishy. I think that maybe Derek is involved in this."

"What?!"

"Shhh! Now, listen to me. It makes perfect sense. He tried to get the disk, and he did it by lying. Not to mention the fact that FBI files on James are missing, and a suspect is dead because of him."

"You've been watching too many murder dramas. Derek isn't capable of that."

"Lynda, he was capable of leading you on for a long time. What makes you think he won't do something worse?"

"Because . . . I . . . oh, I don't know. Do you really think he's the third suspect?"

Stanley raised his eyebrows. "Definitely."

Lynda's fax machine hummed suddenly. Lynda went over and pulled three sheets of paper from it. "Well, we now know who the second guy is. One Brandon Nolan. Age: 42, Current Address: 232 West Racine, Apartment Number 3D."

"Huh. That's close where Fraser used to live."

Lynda raised her eyebrows. "Interesting information. Why don't you go get this guy? Maybe he can tell us exactly who the third guy is."

"I'm not leaving you alone with those goons out there. Especially Derek."

"Then take him with you. If he's who you say he is, then Nolan will recognize him."

"You sure you'll be okay with the others?"

"I'll be fine. Dief will stay with me, right boy?" Dief woofed. "Besides, if anyone tries anything, they'll get a taste of Mr. Fist."

Stanley sighed. "Fine, but be careful." He kissed her on the top of the forehead. "If you need me just call me on my cellular, and I'll come back."

"I will. Oh, and see if you can get Fraser. If he's lived on West Racine, he'll know the area better than you."

Stanley nodded before leaving the room. Lynda sighed and closed her eyes. Derek, trying to kill her? She shook her head in disbelief. This was one of the few times that she hoped her father was wrong for a chance.

"Thanks again for coming, Fraser," Stanley said to the Mountie sitting beside him. Derek and Agent Ford, who decided to tag along as well, were in the back seat.

"No problem, Ray. Happy to oblige."

"You sure it's not to get away from the Ice Queen?" The Detective grinned wickedly. Fraser said nothing, but his face turned as red as his uniform.

"Look, could you two just shut up?" Ford irritably asked. "You're giving me a headache."

"The feeling's mutual," Stanley grumbled.

Ford scowled, but said nothing further. Soon, the car pulled up to 232 West Racine. Everyone got out and headed inside the apartment building, which Fraser noticed looked similar to his over at 221. They headed up the stairs to the third floor. The agents pulled out their guns as Stanley pulled out his glasses and his pistol.

"May I come in?" Agent Travis asked, peeking his head into the room. Lynda didn't answer him. He sighed. "Lynda, I know you're upset -"

"You're damn right I'm upset." She turned to face the agent. "You're not really his father, are you?"

"No, I'm not."

"Why am I not surprised?" She turned back to her computer and continued typing.

Travis cleared his throat. "Can I tell you a story?"

"I'm not a kid."

"I know, but I think you'll find the story interesting."

"Fine."

"It's about a guy named Derek and a girl named Lynda. They met and fell in love."

"And then Lynda found out that Derek was a liar, who didn't really love her and was only using her, and hated him," Lynda finished.

"But did you know what Derek did when he was at work, before you found out who he was?"

"What?"

"All I'll say is that he was talking about you so much it got annoying. 'Lynda' this and 'Lynda' that. Every time he came into work, all we would hear about is you. He would constantly pout that he wasn't able to tell you who he really was, and cringed when he thought that you knew."

"What's the point?"

"The point is, Lynda, that Derek really cares about you. As a matter of fact, when you and Welsh were on that assignment a couple of months ago -"

"You knew?"

"Of course. The FBI arranged it, after all. Anyway, while you were gone for the month, Derek moped. He'd call your place, spend time with your father because Derek knew how important family was to you, and just sit at his desk, daydreaming. I can't recall how many times his mind wandered while he was working." He sat on the daybed and sighed. "Lynda, give him a second chance. He doesn't deserve getting the cold shoulder."

"And I don't deserve being lied to."

"No, you don't, and when Derek was given this assignment he was reluctant about taking on the pseudonym of my son, as was I. Do you know what changed his mind? From the first time he saw your photograph, you could see it in his eyes that he felt something for you. And I know you still care about him, despite being so hurt."

Lynda opened her mouth, but then closed it. He was right. She hated to admit it, but he was right. "So, what do you want me to do. Just forget what happened?"

"No, but don't give him the cold shoulder. Talk to him."

Just like what Fraser said. Tears filled Lynda's eyes, but she refused to let them spill onto her

cheeks. "Just go away," she whispered. She turned from Travis just as the tears streaked her cheeks. Travis stood up and quietly left Lynda by herself, shutting the door close behind him, leaving

Lynda to cry quietly by herself.

"FBI, open the door!" Ford yelled once at the door of Apartment 3D. Getting no answer, Derek stepped back and kicked the door in. Quickly, the two agents, Stanley, and Fraser rushed inside. They searched the entire apartment, but it was empty.

"Now what?" Derek answered.

Suddenly, Nolan rushed out from under his bed and ran for the door, knocking over Derek and Ford in the process. Stanley was able to catch him. Grabbing him by his shirt, he threw Nolan against a wall and held him.

"Get him off of me!" Nolan screamed.

"Ray calm down," Fraser said gently.

"I will after he tells me who the third guy is," Stanley growled. He got really close to Nolan. "Let's have it pal. Who was the other one with you and Caruso who tried to kill Lynda Peterson? Answer me!"

"It was the FBI guy!" Nolan was close to tears.

"I knew it." Stanley tossed Nolan aside and went after Derek. He punched him in the face, knocking him onto the ground. Then he whipped his gun out and pointed it straight at Derek. "I should shoot you right now."

"What the hell are you talking about, Detective?" Derek sat up, rubbing his jaw as he looked up at Stanley in disbelief.

"Ray, what are you doing?" Fraser had never seen his friend act like this.

"Exposing the third guy who tried to kill my daughter."

"Derek?"

"And wold you mind telling me how you came to this conclusion, Detective?" Ford asked.

"Lynda was able to obtain a tape of the suspects when they talked with James two days ago. Only two suspects were seen in the video. But you said there were three. Where was the third guy?"

"I don't know."

"And the disappearing tapes and evidence? It sounds a little too convenient."

"Are you suggesting that Agent Laramie is working with Charleston to kill Lynda?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I can guarantee that he isn't."

"How?"

"By telling you I wasn't even part of the FBI when those tapes and evidence disappeared," Derek answered. "I was still in the Academy."

"What?" Stanley frowned.

"Good theory, but Derek is definitely not the third suspect."

"But what about the third guy? The tapes and evidence?"

"Like we said before, Detective, the tapes and evidence disappeared a long time ago. Harrison doesn't know - oh, my God."

"What?" Derek and Stanley asked.

"Oh, how could I have been so stupid?"

"Not that hard," Stanley answered wryly.

"Ford, what are talking about?" Derek stood up.

"Derek, look at the pieces: one, Harrison is put in charge of the investigation. Two, every time the Bureau was close enough to get Charleston, incriminating evidence would mysteriously vanish. And three, who was the one who told us about the three visitors to Charleston?"

"Are you suggesting Harrison is the third man?" Stanley asked.

"The pieces fit." Ford stated firmly.

"It's true!" Nolan sat up slowly from where Stanley had thrown him. "Harrison came to us a week ago, asking us for help in killing Peterson and getting some disk from her. Said Charleston would pay big money for it."

"And I left her alone with him," Stanley said. He quickly bolted out of the room. Fraser was close behind

"I'm coming with you!" Derek scrambled after them.

"Get up," Ford grabbed Nolan and hoisted him to his feet. He led Nolan out of room. "You know, attempted murder and hijacking are bad enough, but if Peterson gets killed, then you're going to be charged with Capital Murder. And be sure it'll be me carrying out the execution."

Lynda got up from the desk and yawned. "Hey, Dief, lets get something to eat." She and Dief started out of the room when she heard a loud gunshot. She froze in her tracks. It had come from outside. Her heart pounding, she backed up against the wall near the door. There was no way out, and, while jumping out of a window would have been a good solution, jumping out of one sixty-seven stories tall would not be.

Suddenly, the door creaked open. Not knowing exactly what she was doing, Lynda slammed into the door, knocking the person on the other side down. She quickly opened the door and bolted toward the living room. She stopped in her tracks, when she saw Agent Travis lying face down in front of her couch. He was bleeding from his right side, but was still alive. Suddenly, it dawned on her. It was Harrison. He was the third suspect.

She started to go check on Travis, but she heard Harrison getting back on his feet. Reluctantly, she ran toward the front door, but it was locked. She tried to unlock it, but a bullet whizzed by her head. Quickly, she ran into the kitchen and ducked behind some counters.

"There's no where to hide, Lynda," Harrison growled, stalking his prey. "And don't think that wolf is going to help you. Not unless he can open closed doors."

Lynda scooted quietly into the far side of the kitchen, behind the island. Quickly, she grabbed a frying pan that was on the stove and gripped the handle tightly. As Harrison made his way into the kitchen, she held her breath. As soon as Harrison walked over, she let the pan fly, hitting him in the kneecaps.

Harrison cried out in pain and aimed his gun at her. Lynda swung again, knocking his gun from his hands. She hit him again, knocking him to the ground. Lynda ran out of the kitchen into the living room, and hid behind her sofa. Harrison picked his gun and quickly limped after her.

"Okay, Lynda, it ends here." He aimed at the couch and began to fire.

Suddenly, the front door flew open and Stanley ran in, holding his gun. Before Stanley noticed Harrison, the agent fired at the Detective, hitting him in the shoulder.

"No!" Lynda watched in horror as her father fell to the ground.

Derek came in as Stanley started to fall, but saw Harrison before he fired. He ducked behind the door. Harrison was oblivious to everything as he fired round after round at the door.

Lynda, feeling a rush of adrenaline flow through her body, sprang from her hiding place. She grabbed a nearby glass vase filled with flowers and hit Harrison over the head. The vase shattered as Harrison dropped like an old sack of potatoes.

Derek rushed in, and glanced around. Lynda stood above Harrison, who was unconscious. Travis was groggily coming to. And he could hear Dief barking from somewhere in the back of the apartment. He put his gun away and rushed over to Lynda. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she answered breathlessly. She looked toward the front door, and saw Fraser kneeling over her father. She quickly rushed by Derek and over to her father. His left shoulder was bleeding and he was unconscious. "Dad? Dad, can you hear me?"

She stayed by his side until the paramedics arrived, oblivious to the fact that Fraser was standing behind her.

Lynda felt a sense of deja vu as she paced slowly around the waiting room of the ER. Fraser was sitting next to Welsh, who had arrived with Dewy and Huey over thirty minutes ago. Derek was sitting off to another side of the room. Ford, who had arrived after getting Nolan into custody, was next to him.

It had been an hour since she had arrived with her father in the ambulance. An hour had passed, and all she knew was Travis was in ICU and Harrison had been released to the FBI after having fifty-three stitches in his scalp. No one word on her father. Not one -

"Lynda Peterson?" a voice called out. Lynda and everyone looked up as a doctor in green scrubs came in, carrying a clipboard. "Dr. Miller."

"How's Ray?" she asked.

"He's going to be fine. His left shoulder muscle was damaged slightly, but he should be back to normal in a month. He's resting in his room right now."

"Can I see him?"

Dr. Miller nodded. "He asked for you." He peered closely at Lynda. "Are you two related?"

Yes, Lynda wanted to say. Yes, I'm his daughter! "No," she answered quietly. "We just look alike."

Dr. Miller accepted that and led her to Room 421. "Here you are. Listen, he was complaining about the pain, so we gave him some morphine."

Lynda nodded and went into the room. There, lying in a bed with his arm in a sling, was her father. He was nodding his head lightly, but smiled brightly when he saw Lynda. "Hey, Lynda," he answered drunkenly.

"How are you feeling?"

"Well, my arm hurt awhile back, but the nice doctor-people gave me some feel-good medicine. Man, do I feel good." He giggled uncontrollably.

Lynda raised her eyebrows. "Uh, listen, I just came to make sure you're all right."

"Oh . . . I'm fine. How are you?"

Lynda looked at Stanley. "I don't know," she answered. "I don't know what to do."

"Can I make a suggestion?" Lynda nodded. "Talk to him."

"Talk to him?"

"Talk to who? Lynda, I can't talk to anyone. I'm in a hospital room."

The morphine started really kicking in. "Okay, why don't you just lay back and get some rest?"

"I gotta better idea. Why don't I just lay back and get some rest? I'm tired." Soon, he was out like a light. Lynda pulled the covers up to his neck and kissed him on the forehead before leaving his room. Outside, Derek was waiting. Lynda was startled at first, but quickly regained her composure.

"How is he?" Derek asked.

"He's fine," Lynda answered quietly. "A little doped up on morphine, but he'll be fine. Thanks."

Derek sighed awkwardly. "Well, I'd guess I'd better get going." He turned to walk away.

Lynda started remembering what Fraser and Travis had said. Talk to him. "Derek?"

"Yeah?" Derek turned around.

"We need to talk."

"Yeah, we do."

Lynda glanced up and down the hall. "Some place more private."

Derek nodded and led her to an empty room nearby. He closed the door behind them after they entered. "So, do you want to start, or should I?"

"I'll start." She sighed. "First, I want to apologize for slapping you and throwing the vase at you the other night. I was angry, but I shouldn't have reacted the way idea. I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted."

"But you have to understand that you had no right lying to me. Not with how you knew I felt about you. I feel angry, betrayed, mad . . . but mostly, I'm hurt. I'm hurt to think that you let me get caught up in a relationship I thought had meaning."

"Lynda, it did have meaning. I really do care about you."

"How can you expect me to believe that, after you lied to me?"

"Maybe by giving me another chance?"

"I don't know if I can do that. I'm just so confused right now. I hate you for what you did to me, but I still love you." She sighed. "But unfortunately, my feelings toward you don't constitute what you did." Derek turned away. "If it is any consultation, Derek, I want you to know that I will forgive you."

"When?"

"I don't know. But until then, I think . . . I think it would be best if we don't see each other."

"Are you serious?"

"I've never been more serious in my life." Tears welled up in her eyes. "I'm sorry."

Derek forced a sad smile. "Don't be. You have nothing to be sorry about." He choked back tears of his own. "When you're ready . . . you know where to find me." He reached his arms out, but Lynda backed away.

"Please, let's just make this as easy as possible." She turned her back on him.

Derek got the hint. He slowly walked out of the room, and out of Lynda's life. After he shut the door, Lynda collapsed to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. Fraser was right. Talking had helped Lynda better understand what to do with the relationship. Then why did it hurt so much?

The next morning, Lynda sat numbly at her desk, oblivious to what she was typing and why.

"Lynda?" Lynda looked up to see Fraser, dressed in the brown uniform, standing beside her. "You okay?"

"I don't know."

"You did the right thing. You talked to Derek about how you felt."

"Then why does it hurt so much?"

"It will. It just takes time."

"Lynda?"

Lynda and Fraser looked up to see Agent Ford and Derek standing on the other side of her desk.

"What now?" she asked irritably, not making eye contact with Derek.

"Remember, we had an agreement," Ford replied. "The disk, if you don't mind."

"What happened to Harrison?"

"Locked away. He won't ever be releases, not with the charges that were brought up against him."

"And Travis?"

"They moved him into a private room this morning."

"How's Ray?" Derek asked.

"They're going to keep him for another day," Lynda answered without looking at him.

Ford held out his hand. "The disk." Lynda grumbled, but reached into her desk and pulled out the unmarked disk and handed it over to Ford. "The code?"

"Lily. It was my mom's favorite flower."

Ford and Derek quickly left without thanking her. Lynda watched them disappear from the Squad Room. When they had left, she sighed, then reached into the drawer and pulled out a similar disk.

"What's that?" Fraser asked.

"The real disk."

"But Lynda -"

"Fraser, when we made that deal a couple days ago, I had *that* disk in my hand. They wanted *that* disk, so I gave them *that* disk."

"And what exactly is on *that* disk."

"Oh, a little present."

"Lynda."

"It's a computer virus, okay? Once they execute it by typing in 'Lily", a virus will be put on their computers. All it will do will put a simple message on there, saying 'Gotcha'. No wiping out files, or stuff like that."

"They'll be back."

"I doubt it." Fraser shook his head.

"Lynda!" Welsh called out. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Lynda got up from her desk and went into Welsh's office. She came out a few minutes later and went back over to her desk. But instead of sitting down, she gather up her things.

"Going home?" Fraser asked.

"Yeah, I'm going to take a few days off."

"It'll do you some good."

"I hope so." She left, but turned around suddenly. "Oh, before I forget, Welsh wants you, Ray, and myself to come in on the morning of the second, which is four Saturdays from now."

"Why?"

"Can you come? Yes or no?"

"Of course I can come, Lynda."

"Okay." Lynda left the Squad Room. Fraser raised his eyebrows and looked down at Dief, who was sitting beside him.

"What do you think?"

"Grrr."

"Me, too. But I guess we're going to have to wait, right?"

Both he and Dief left the Squad Room, headed outside, and made their way toward the Consulate.

Lynda dropped her purse and stuff into the backseat of her '57 Chevy Convertible and climbed in the driver's seat. Before starting the car, though, she leaned back and sighed. It'll take time, Fraser said. It'll do you good.

She sincerely hoped Fraser was right. Right now, she felt her life was falling apart around her. It felt like - oh, what was the expression her father used? 'This Sucks'. You couldn't be more right, Dad, she thought. My life definitely sucks. She put the key in her ignition, started the car, and drove off to her home.

The End