I didn't know the name of the town that we docked in. It was a small place and the shops that lined the main streets were quaint and delicate. They looked like they belonged in some sort of storybook about an idyllic French town, like the one from that Disney movie, Beauty and the Beast. The streets were cobblestoned and all the people smiled at us as we passed them by.

Daniel and I walked through the town. We passed by a bus station—it seemed that was the most efficient way to get out of town aside from driving and I hadn't entirely written out the idea of "borrowing" someone else's car—and a few small clothing stores. There were several cafés and pubs and an electronic store that I figured we should duck into. I tapped Daniel's shoulder and nodded to the store. He nodded and followed me inside.

"Bonjour!" the clerk behind the counter called out. He was an older gentleman, likely in his late sixties, with grey hair and a face that was lining with wrinkles. Still, his green eyes were friendly.

"Bonjour," I replied.

He smiled. "Comment puis-je vous aider, mademoiselle?"

Daniel stared at me, seemingly dumfounded as I replied in perfect French to the gentleman's questions about how he could help us. I asked him for two burner phones and, while he seemed a little unsure about my request, he obliged. As he prepared the phones for us, Daniel turned to me with a raised eyebrow.

"You can speak French?"

"Yes. And Italian, Spanish, German, Russian, Mandarin, as well as a few broken versions of others that you probably don't know."

He shook his head. "And I thought I was done being surprised by you."

"That was dumb of you."

"Tell me about it."

Daniel grinned at me as the store clerk passed the burner phones to me over the counter. I slid him the money from my store of Gregory Lauer's cash and then, bidding him goodbye, Daniel and I left the store. We stepped back out into the idyllic French town and proceeded to walk once more, this time back towards the docks. We paused once in our progression, ducking into a small little multi-purpose store where we were able to buy a few boxes of hair dye, some scissors, and some food, before we reached the boat that sat bobbing in the water in the same spot that we'd left it in.

As he prepared sandwiches made from some of the supplies we'd gathered from the store, I began toying with one of the burner phones. "What are you doing?" he asked. He sounded genuinely curious.

I glanced over at him, watching as he slathered some sort of jam onto a piece of bread. "Turning off the GPS. I don't want anyone able to track us."

"Like my parents, you mean?"

"Or Lia and Max and Tasha. I know they've got to be worried sick and they're probably all rightfully pissed at me. As they should be. I'd be pissed at me if I were them."

Daniel walked over to me and offered a sandwich. I bit into it, the bread was stale and the jam was some unidentifiable flavor, but the food felt good to my empty stomach. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until I'd taken my first bite. Daniel sat down beside me on the deck, his own sandwich in his hand.

The two of us fell into silence, broken only by the sounds of the gentle waves lapping against the edge of the boat. The sun was hot as it shone done on us and I could feel myself getting sweaty. There were a few other people out and about on the other boats in the area. Those who were speaking to one another did so in rapid French, the others were silently going about their work as they polished and scrubbed at their already spotless vessels.

Eventually, when I'd finished my sandwich and had nothing left to distract me, I picked up the burner phone with the disabled GPS. I hadn't activated the second phone yet. I would do that in a few days' time or if the first phone became compromised. For now, it was a backup I was hoping that I wouldn't need.

"You ready?" Daniel asked.

"No," I said, and dialed the phone. It was a number I knew off the top of my head. I'd memorized it the day I'd met her and she was the one person I knew who was never with her cell.

Sure enough, she answered on the second ring. Her voice was unsure. "Hello?"

"Tasha, it's me."

"Mel? Oh, my god. Are you okay? Where are you? Lia said—"

"I know," I cut in. Tasha had a bad habit of rambling on and on. If you didn't cut her off, she wouldn't stop. "I'm fine. I'm safe. Daniel is with me. He's okay, too."

I could practically see her hyperventilating.

"Tash, I need you to do something for me before you start freaking out, alright?"

"Yeah," she answered quickly. "Yeah, of course, anything."

"Okay, Daniel was kidnapped by these two guys and they kept mentioning—a"

"Wait-wait, Daniel was kidnapped? Oh, my god. Is he okay? Did you find him? Is he hurt? The Ortiz's are here, should I—"

I had to speak quickly to cut her off. "Tasha, calm down. He's fine. He's sitting beside me right now so trust me, he's good. Now, listen, I need you to look into someone named 'Izzy.' I don't have much information to give you except that and that she was behind Daniel's kidnapping and that she knew Daniel was important enough to me to be used as bait. She may have connections to the CIA. Anything you can find, Tasha, I need it."

There was nothing but hard resolve in her voice when she replied. "I'm on it."

"Thanks. Can you get me the Ortiz's? Daniel wants to talk to them."

"Of course."

I passed the phone to Daniel and got up to cross over to the opposite end of the boat, letting him have his space with his parents. I could hear him reassuring them calmly that, 'yes, he was alright' and 'no, he wouldn't tell them where he was.' Eventually, he got them calmed down enough to pass them the information on Bates and McHale who were still tied up in the lower deck. When they'd finished speaking, he came over and handed the phone back to me. The call was still connected.

My eyes locked onto the little phone. It was such an innocent little device and yet it felt like a weight burdening my shoulders for I had a sinking feeling about who was on the other end of that call. Nevertheless, I plucked it from Daniel's palm and held it up to my ear.

"Hello?"

"You left."

"Max—"

"No," he snapped and I'd never heard his voice sound so sharp. "No, you don't get to make excuses, Melanie. Brent is hanging on by a thread. Lia is distraught. She needs you right—"

And while I knew that Max was right. That Lia needed me and Brent could die, I also knew that Paris was not the place that I needed to be. "No," I said. "Lia has you and Tasha and her mom. Brent is going to pull through. My brother needs me, Max. Scorpion cut off his toe as a threat."

I released a heated breath before continuing. "They set up another rendezvous meeting. There was a note inside of the box with his toe but I didn't tell anybody about it. If I'm not there, they'll kill him for sure. They won't give me another chance. So, yes, I know that the world has gone to absolute shit and that Lia needs me but Wes needs me more. I need to save his life. There's nothing I can do for Brent or Lia, Max, and you know that. But I can save him."

Max's voice was more controlled when he asked, "How long did they give you?" I knew he was still mad that I'd taken off, and he had every right to be, but he also recognized that this wasn't the time to argue, not with Wes' life on the line.

"Seven days." I pushed a hand through my hair. "They want Vavilov's research."

Max swore. "Of course they do."

"I need you to help me find it. Daniel and I are going to work this op. from the field but I need to make sure that I can call you for backup. I need you on my side, Max. I need to know that you've got my back on this."

His reply was instantaneous. "I've always got your back, Mel."

I closed my eyes and for a moment I could pretend that things were as they'd been for years. Could pretend that I wasn't on a boat in the middle of nowhere France while my brother was being held prisoner and my best friend's dad was fighting for his life. Max's breath was calming, strong and even. It helped to settle my nerves.

"Stay with Lia and help Tasha. I asked her to look into something for me. And if you can find out anything on my parents, that would be amazing. I need to know where they might have stashed the research before Scorpion got to them. We're using a burner phone and I don't know how long I'll be able to hang onto it. If something happens and I need to ditch the phone and you guys can't get ahold of us, I have a second phone I can use to contact you which I will do twelve-hours after deactivating the first burner."

"And if we don't hear from you we should just presume the worst, then?"

"Yes."

"Max, if something happens to me, you need to save my brother, all right? The meeting with Scorpion, it's at Gorky Park in Moscow. The House of Horrors at dusk. You can't tell anyone else unless something happens to me and you have no other choice. If I don't go alone, they'll kill Wes."

His voice was determined and dark when he replied, "We'll find a way to be there without them recognizing any agents. Lia, Tasha, and I have only just gotten attachments to any legitimate agencies. Our faces aren't in any data bases yet. They won't know us. Even if its just the four of us, we'll get him back, Mel. I promise."

"Thank you, Max."

"Give me a bit of time. I'm going to go talk to Lydia and the Ortiz's. They might have some idea of where your parents may have hidden that research. Maybe they had some safe house or something like that."

"Okay," I replied. "Be safe."

"Don't die," he said and then he disconnected the call with a click.

Daniel was staring at me as I placed the phone into my lap. "Max is going to talk to your parents and Lia's mom and see if they have any idea as to where we should go to start looking for Vavilov's research."

"That's a good start."

"Mmhm."

He was still staring at me and so I turned my gaze to meet his as he asked, "So, what do we do now?"

I smiled.

*~*~*

"Okay, make sure you always use two hands. Cop shows severely underestimate the kick of a gun when you fire it and if you try to look cool and use one hand you'll never hit anything."

Daniel and I were on the deck of the boat, bobbing out off the coast a few hundred yards to where the shoreline just looked like a small speck. We'd left port a few hours earlier and had begun sailing, making sure to always keep the mainland in view so that we could watch for approaching towns. The next one we came across, we were docking and it would be there that we would call in Daniel's parents to retrieve the two double agents, who were still tied up below deck, while we, hopefully, went to follow a lead as to where Jack and Elizabeth Briar may have hidden the files that Scorpion so desperately wanted.

Since we'd had some time to kill and the boat was fully equipped with an autopilot option that kept us on our course, I'd decided that it was time to show Daniel some of the basic of gun management so if he ever had another pointed at him—which, since he was absolutely refusing to leave my side, was pretty damn likely—he wouldn't freeze and might have a chance at getting out of the situation alone if I was otherwise occupied.

"Got it," he said to me now.

His hair was now a sandy brown—courtesy of the hair dye we'd bought in the last town. My hair had likewise been changed and now, instead of my usual blonde, I was showcasing a dark auburn. The darker colour made me look paler than normal but it was a change I was embracing whole-heartedly. I'd also sheared half of it off with a pair of scissors I'd found below deck. Now, my hair hung only to my shoulders but some of my natural waves had turned into curls after losing the heaviness of my previous hairstyle and so the transformation appeared more drastic than it was.

I passed him the handgun. There was no clip loaded and the chamber was empty. Right now, the weapon was no better than a club he could use to hit me over the head with.

"Put your dominant hand high on the grip and keep your last three fingers around the base of the grip, right below the trigger guard. Keep them close together but don't let them overlap. Got it?"

"Yes."

I watched as he adjusted his grip. Daniel was left-handed. There was a long pale scar that ran down the centre of his palm. I'd been there when he'd gotten it. We'd been ten years old at the time and he'd been attempting to cut a watermelon when the knife had slipped and sliced through the skin on his hand.

"Good. Now, loosen your grip. You're not trying to choke the weapon to death. Just hold it firmly." Daniel nodded and relaxed his grip slightly. I had to give it to him, he was a quick study. He picked up everything I told him with the blink of an eye. He never argued or bickered. He accepted what I told him and made the corrections swiftly.

His eyes flicked to me as a breeze off the water blew through the dark hair on his head. "Now what?"

I brushed my own hair out of my eyes as that same breeze whipped my hair around. "Keep your index finger against the frame of the gun. That's the finger you'll use to pull the trigger but you never keep it there unless you're aimed and prepared to fire. Now, put the heel of your right hand in the exposed portion of the grip. Yes, like that." I nodded as he moved his other hand into place. "Wrap your four fingers on that hand around the base of the grip beneath the trigger guard and around your left hand and then keep your thumb underneath your left-hand thumb, yes, good."

Daniel grimaced. "This feels awkward."

"That means you're doing it right. It's going to feel unnatural but that's okay. That grip will help when you fire. It'll prevent it from kicking back and hitting you in the face which, believe it or not, is something that happens more often that you'd think."

From there, I showed Daniel how to stand properly and how to aim and fire. By the end of the short lesson, it seemed like Daniel was more confident around the weapon. At the very least, I was more confident that he wouldn't accidently shoot himself, or me.

"So, what do I do if someone is aiming a gun at me? How do I disarm them?" Daniel asked.

In truth, it was a situation I didn't want to think about. I could picture it so clearly, a dark figure standing in front of Daniel with a gun pressed against my friend's head. It was the sort of situation that would cause even a seasoned agent to give pause and think about their options. This was why, of course, it was something that Daniel needed desperately to learn. At the very least, it could help give him a fighting chance against an adversary until I could get there to help him.

His eyes, that bright sea-green, were staring at me intently. He gave me a look that seemed to say, 'Well, come on! Tell me already.'

"Point the gun at me."

"What?"

"Just do it."

Daniel stepped up in front of me, aimed the gun at my chest. He watched me intently, waiting. In one swift move, faster than he could react to, I had the gun in my hand and Daniel subdued against me. I didn't even need to look at his face to know he looked shocked.

"How did you do that?" he asked.

I grinned and released him. "I'll show you. Point the gun at me again."

He did and this time his eyes were sparking with curiosity and the desire to learn. There was more to Daniel than just a self-preservation instinct when it came to learning this stuff. And, yes, it could prove to be useful but it was more than that. Daniel, for all intents and purposes, just wanted the knowledge. He liked learning new things. It was almost like fuel for him.

"Now what?"

I went slower this time, showing him each individual step. "Grab the barrel of the gun with your right hand and then with your left snap my hand away. Keep a hold on my wrist as you shove my hand off of the gun. Go." I nodded at him.

Daniel tried the move but his approach was too weak. While he managed to snap my hand off the gun, it was half-hearted, like he was trying not to hurt me. I took the gun back from him and pressed it against his chest once more.

"No. Really do it. I won't break. Push my hand away like you're trying to apprehend me, Daniel."

He huffed but I saw the resolve settle in his eyes. "Fine."

Daniel licked his lips, brow furrowed, and then he moved. His right hand grabbed the barrel as his left snapped my hand away. He kept a steady pressure on my my wrist, not giving me any leverage to push away from him. Then, he looked up to meet my eyes questioningly.

I nodded. "Perfect. Now, pull my wrist towards you."

He did and the next thing I knew I was being crushed against his chest. He looked down at me just as I looked up and his face was a lot closer than I expected. I could feel his warm breath fan across my face, blowing wisps of my hair into my eyes. He was close enough that I could see every speck of colour in his eyes. He smelt of sweat and grime and salt from the sea.

"Like that?" Daniel murmured. His voice was low and rougher than I expected it to be.

"Yes." I swallowed thickly. He was still holding onto my wrist. I looked down pointedly and he followed my gaze and let go. My skin stung where his hand at been, a phantom pain of loss. I stepped out of his arms and turned to face him. There was an odd expression on his face, as if he were getting ready to say something.

And then, just as he opened his mouth to speak, his eyes were drawn to something over my shoulder. "Look," he said.

I turned and saw the outline of another town on the horizon. Even from afar, it looked larger than the last place we'd been which meant that their train or bus station likely went to a wider variety of destinations than the last port. Hopefully, one of those such places would lead us to Vavilov's research and, in time, my brother.

"I'll go steer us in." Daniel gave me one last lingering look and then he was off towards the wheel.

As soon as he was gone, I released a puff of air and moved towards the edge of the boat where I leaned against the railing. More than once, my eyes strayed away from the town and towards Daniel where he stood at the helm but I always forced my gaze away quickly. I would be lying if I said that spending so much time with Daniel hadn't caused a slight resurgence of past feelings.

I just couldn't pretend that he was nobody to me because that was simply untrue. Daniel Ortiz was my best friend. He understood me. More than Lia or Max or Tasha. We were on the same wavelength, almost always in tune. Even when I was mad or frustrated with him, it was because I was, in all actuality, angry with myself. Because I saw myself in Daniel only all too clearly. Watching him was like a window to the past as to how I was when I'd first arrived at Oaks. Headstrong, determined, eager to learn. That was Daniel. That was me.

Daniel pulled us up to an empty spot at the dock and together we tied the boat up. Not wanting to arouse suspicion, we went to the marina and paid the fee needed in order to park the boat and then we went off into the town. I learned pretty quickly that we were in Menton, a place that had a population of approximately thirty thousand and was situated along the Franco-Italian border. There was a sign that it was the perle de la