One of the phrases in the English language that most prepares you for humor of the best kind is "he was stuck between a rock and a hard place". For instance, before I've even described to you the situation at hand you're probably already laughing, right? Of course, you probably already know that by "him" I mean Nick Carter - aka Agent Carter, honorary officer of the FBI. Pretty much anything including him is bound to be a pretty hilarious situation.

Then again, too, you're probably expecting funny. I mean this IS the sequel to a story about how Nick accidentally joined a terrorist mob, right?

And so it begins.

Nick was stuck between a rock and a hard place. In most literary cases, this is a figurative line meaning that the person in question couldn't decide between two very hard choices. However, in Nick's case, it's quite literal.

"GUUUUUYYYYYYYSSSSSSSSSSSS!" Nick kicked against the outside of the bus, moving his legs like he was running. He could vaguely hear his sneakers squeaking as the rubber bottoms rubbed on the metal. "GUYSSSSSSS!!!!!" He reached his arms out as straight as they could go, trying to reach the metal frame of the shower stall. It was so close, if he could just reach that, he might be able to pull himself through. His fingertips grazed the metal, just barely reaching the curve of the other side. He tried to pull, but the grip wasn't good enough and his fingers slid down. "Crap," he groaned, trying again, stretching his arms as hard as he could. "GUYYYYYYYSSSSSSSS??? Fellaaaaaaaaas? Helloooooooo?!" He kicked harder against the bus, hoping they'd hear him. "C'mon you guuuuuys!"

Suddenly the door flew opened and the Boys' manager, stood in the frame, arms on his hips.

Nick bit his lips and let his arms dangle. "Aw fudge," he mumbled, pouting.

"What in the name of hell are you doing?" Jeff asked, raising an eyebrow and folding his arms over his chest.

Nick looked around, "Well, I can explain."

"Please do," Jeff responded.

"Well... see, it's like this..." Nick paused, thinking. "I had this really bad craving for french fries, and---"

"French fries, again? Didn't you learn your lesson LAST time you snuck out to get McDonald's french fries, Nick?"

Nick hesitated, "Well.. kinda. Except this time I'm not gonna get kidnapped by a bomb-making psychopath with a horse laugh or her father, and the odds of me being sent to the depths of the Hudson in a Hummer are pretty much slim to none considering we're not in New York City." He grinned.

"Smart ass." Jeff paused, "I should leave you there like that."

"Noooooooooooo!" Nick whined, "C'mon, my stomach hurts. Help me!"

Jeff crossed the bathroom and took Nick's hands. "You know, when I signed the contract to be your manager, I had no idea I was signing to be a parent turned zoo keeper." He puleld Nick, leaning away from him to use as much of his body weight to pull with as possible. Nick didn't budge.

Suddenly AJ appeared in the doorway, groggy and his hair a mess. He yawned sleepily, then his eyes popped wide opened. "What the hell?" He took in the scene for a moment. "Jesus, Nick, what the fuck were you doing?"

"Just.. yanno.. hangin' around..." Nick replied. He rolled his eyes, "Dude, AJ... help Jeff, please. Ask questions later."

Jeff turned to AJ, "Get Brian and Howie and have security go push from the other side. He's really lodged in there good." AJ snickered and left the room. "You might want to consider a diet," Jeff added to Nick, "You can start by stopping with all the McDonald's french fries."

"They do seem to be a cursed food," Nick answered.

A few minutes later, AJ returned, followed by Brian and Howie. Brian covered his mouth, laughing. "Oh my gosh I thought you were kidding!"

"Nick.." Howie shook his head, "How in the hell does one get his ass stuck in the tour bus window?"

Jeff rolled his eyes, "He was getting french fries." All three Boys groaned.

"Nick!" Howie sighed, "Don't you remember what happened LAST time you snuck out to get french fries?"

"Yeah, and like I told Jeff ---" before he could relay what he'd told Jeff, Nick felt a large hand on his rearend, pushing him forward. "HEY.. EASY ON THE GOODS BACK THERE!" he yelled, kicking his foot at the hand. On the other side, Drew, the head security guard, dodged Nick's kicking leg and continued pushing, despite his loud protests.

Jeff motioned for the Boys to help him, "C'mon you guys, form a chain and we'll try to pull him as they push him from out in the parking lot."

"This is gonna hurt, huh?" Nick asked.

Jeff shrugged, "Next time think of that before you get your ass lodged into a window." Nick pouted.

The Boys lined up behind Jeff, AJ wrapping his arms around the manager, Howie's around AJ's waist and Brian's around Howie's and all four of the men pulled, putting all their weight into it as Drew shoved from behind. "This is sooo like that episode of Winnie the Pooh when Pooh gets stuck in Rabbit's door, remember?" he asked, giggling.

Working together, they finally managed to pull Nick free from the window's grasp, and they fell backwards with a bang, Brian on the bottom and Nick landing on the top of the pile. Then they all started shouting at once.

"That hurt!"
"Get off me!"
"Hey watch where you're putting your hand!"
"Jesus why the hell're you hard, Howie?"
"Shut the hell up!"
"I SAID get off of me!"
"My arms, what'd you guys DO to me? I stretched, like Gumby."
"Kevin would SO kill you if he knew you snuck off for fries again."
"OW!"
"Hey, hey now!"
"Kevin isn't here, now IS he?"

Jeff got up and evacuated before the other four could detangle themselves. "Thanks, Jeff," Nick shouted, but he was already to the front of the bus, more than likely.

"Thank him later," AJ grumbled, "Just get this guy here off me." He pointed at Howie. "He's all turned on and shit."

"You woke me up, thank you," Howie snapped back.

"I turned him on," AJ nodded.

Brian shoved AJ and Howie off him and stood up. "Well.. that was.. eventful." He looked Nick over, "What the hell made you crazy enough to try that stunt?"

Nick shrugged, "I knew ya'll wouldn't let me go by myself to get fries, and I just wanted some alone time, that's all."

"Last time we left you alone," Brian observed, "You came home with the mob."

"This is true, Carter," AJ pointed out, nudging Nick. "We can't exactly be expected to be really comfortable with you being by yourself after that display...now can we?"

Nick shrugged, "I guess not." He pouted, and looked down at his lap. He sighed. Yeah, he'd brought the mob home with him last time, but he'd also beaten the mob, hadn't he? The guys lives had been saved by him, Nick! He was an honorary agent in the FBI! And he couldn't even be left alone for ten minutes to go get french fries? And the fellas wondered why he felt like he had to sneak out the bathroom window? He shook his head... wishing that for once in his life the fellas could give him a little respect. Sure he was blonde, but hey... sometimes good things come in blonde packages.

"So um..." Howie paused a moment as a silence fell over them. "Did you.. bring any food home with you?" he asked.

Nick shook his head, "No.. I was on the way out when I got stuck." Nick's cheeks turned red. There was a brief pause before all four of them started laughing.

The folder dropped onto Bryant's desk with a heavy thump. "There's been another one," the officer dropping the folder told him grimly, "Overseas again. Chief thinks you ought to go over this time."

Bryant groaned and reached for the folder. He opened it and looked at the gruesome photographs paper clipped to the briefing from the European police squad who was handling the case there. Another headless, female victim, marred by fire and left naked in her home with a high blood-alcohol content. He shuddered as he flipped through the pictures, his stomach turning at the thought that the girl, who had no doubt been quite pretty when she was alive, could've been his seventeen year old daughter just as easily as anyone else's. This case was bad -- worse than the other four headless victims he'd seen in the last five months.

"You okay, Boss?" the officer asked as Bryant's face paled.

Bryant nodded, "Yeah." He closed the folder and tossed it back onto his desk, rubbing his eyes. "I'm just overwhelmed by this whole Masquerade Murderer thing... You realize we've been trailing this sicko for six months now?"

"Has it been that long?" the officer asked.

"Yep. Six months, six victims. Two guys, four girls," Bryant shook his head, "And no clues whatsoever."

The Masquerade Murderer was a serial killer whose case Bryant was in charge of solving. Ever since it had landed on his desk, it'd been the bane of his existence. The Masquerader's calling card 4 out of 6 times had been decapitating the victim and burning them nearly beyond recognition. This had only been done to the female victims. The male victims... well... Bryant squirmed just thinking of what had been chopped off them. The first four cases -- both men and two of the girls -- had taken place in the United States. But the most recent two had been over in Europe. One in France and now this one was apparently in Germany. There seemed to be no method to the maddness, only a bloody trail left in the wake of the killer.

Bryant had been up for what seemed like days, slurping down cup after cup of coffee trying to stake awake. He'd been pouring himself over the documents with all the gorey details from autopsie reports and looking at photographs that he'd have burned into his mind, reserved for only the most frightening of nightmares. In some ways, despite the high rise in pay he'd received, he sort of regretting doing such a great job on the mob case a year and a half before. He'd become rather famous in the agency for his apprehension of the bomb-mistress Isa Romera and her father's most infamous henchmen... as well as the Boss himself. Because of the fame and great work he'd done there, he'd been given this high profile case to deal with, expected to be able to solve it quickly. But somehow, this killer had managed to elude him time and time again.

"Well... Find an agent on my roster who's been to Europe," Bryant requested, "One that's willing to go over there with me on short notice," he added. The officer saluted and shot out of the office to follow his orders. Bryant sighed and sat back in his swivel chair, closing his eyes and waiting for the pee-on to return with the information he'd requested. He was too worried to relax, though. He'd bee hearing rumors about the case being pulled from under him and given to a new agent in light of his inability to close it and book a suspect. That'd be enough to erase that raise....

The officer hustled back into the office and dropped a page onto Bryant's desks. "Only two, sir."

"Two?" Bryant looked at the sheet. "You've got to be kidding me. This is it? Where's Agent Jones?"

"Out, sir," the officer replied, "On maternity leave, sir."

Bryant sighed, "Okay. Thank you." As the officer left, Bryant snatched the phone off it's cradle. "Let's see here..." he looked at the two names scribbled before him. "Well... Might as well pick up where this all started." He dialed the number quickly and waited patiently for an answer.

-----

"GIVE ME MY FREAKIN' PHONE, YOU DILDO!" Nick screamed, leaping at AJ. The phone vibed loudly against the tile floor of the bus as AJ slid it down the entire length of the bus to Howie, who snatched it up. Nick fumed. "C'mon you guys, this isn't funny, damn you!" He struggled to his feet after slamming AJ to the carpet and turned to Howie. "Howard, I'm serious. You do SO not want me jumping on you, I'd friggin crush you like a bug. Give. Me. My. Phone. Now. Or I'll flatten your Mexican ass."

Howie giggled and shook his head, "Come get it if you want it."

"Careful you don't turn him on," AJ intoned with a snicker. Nick leaped at Howie, just as Howie chucked the phone right over Nick's shoulder to AJ, who dove to catch it, slamming into the door that went to the living area of the tour bus. He slid to the floor, clutching the phone like he'd just caught a football in overtime. Howie and Nick both fell to the floor with a loud "oof!" from Howie as Nick flattened him.

"You GUYS!" Nick yelled, whiney voice cutting through. The phone beeped as he missed the incoming call and it deferred to voicemail.

AJ laughed and struggled to his feet. "You worried your girlfriend might not call you back?" AJ taunted.

Nick's jaw was set, "I don't HAVE a girlfriend, you guys, come on..."

"Oh yeah?" AJ opened the sidekick, "Let's see who just left you a voice mail then, shall we?"

"Shut up! Gimme the damn phone!" Nick whined, trying to sound demanding but failing miserably. "Gimme it!"

Brian opened the living quarters door. "What in the name of God are ya'll doing out here?" he said, his Kentucky showing. He eyed the three of them standing there in the hall, Nick looking pissed as AJ dialed the voicemail password and hit the speaker phone button.

"You have one new message. First voice message," said the automated computer woman.

"Gimme iiiiiitttttt," Nick whined loudly.

"Hello Nick, it's Agent Bryant from the FBI-NYC," came the deep voice from the phone, "It's like.. I don't know, three, I guess, here right now. I'm not sure where you are, but... Well, give me a call when you can, okay? Thanks."

AJ looked disappointed, "Aw damn it, it's not a girl."

Howie sighed, "Well there goes that fun."

Brian raised his eyebrows, "Were you guys fucking around with Nick again?"

AJ giggled. "Nope, I swear we weren't doing THAT with Nick."

Brian rolled his eyes. "Give him back his phone, right now, or I'll..." he paused.

"Tell on me?" AJ supported, laughing.

Brian shrugged. "I'll think of something equally painful to make you endure."

"Peroxide in the shampoo," Howie said in a stage whisper.

Nick snatched his phone from AJ's hands, "Gimme that, loser."

"Hey now," Brian poked Nick, "Be polite."

"Okay mom," Nick answered, rolling his eyes. He crawled into the tiny bunk he'd commendeered as his own. He pulled the curtain shut and opened his missed calls list, hitting Bryant's number and held the phone to his ear. A moment later, Agent Bryant answered.

"Bryant's desk."

"Hey dude," Nick said, "It's Nick. Sup?"

Bryant paused on his end, hesitating. Did he really want someone who said 'sup' for his sidekick in such a serious case? He had to force the memory of what a great job Nick had done before, and what serious dedication he'd shown. "Well, to cut to the chase," Bryant answered, "I've got a case... a big one. And.. well... I need your help."

"MY help?" Nick's voice pitched with excitement. This could be his chance to prove, yet again, to the fellas that he was capable of taking care of himself, and that he deserved respect. "Dude, I can sooo help you." He paused. "What do I gotta do?"

"Fly with me to Europe," Bryant answered, "I'll brief you on the case on the way there."

"Europe?" Nick paused, "Europe. Heh."

"Is there a problem, Agent Carter?" Bryant questioned.

He'd been thinking that the fellas would freak knowing he was going to leave the whole COUNTRY by himself. But screw them! Nick laughed, "Nope. Not a problem at all. Where do you want me to meet you?"

"Well... LaGuardia probably would be the best," he answered, "Think you can be there by tomorrow morning?"

Nick mentally ran over his day's schedule. "Probably," he replied with a grin. "I'm really excited right now," he told Bryant, "Thanks for calling me."

Bryant decided it'd be best to tell a white lie. "You were the first name that came to mind when I needed help."

Nick grinned, pleased with himself. "Sweet! I'ma saaaaaaaave the day. Again!"

"You shouldn't be so hard on Nick," Brian was scolding AJ and Howie while Nick was on the phone with Agent Bryant, "I get the feeling we're on his nerves lately to begin with, without you two being jerks to him."

AJ shrugged, "Aw c'mon, the kid can take a joke. He knows we're just screwing with him."

Brian shook his head, "I'm not so sure. You know he's been sensitive about it ever since we didnt' believe him about the mob last year, and all of that proved to be true. He thinks we don't respect him, I guess."

"He doesn't really give us a whole lot TO respect," Howie pointed out, "Sneaking off the bus through a bathroom window... acting like a crazy person, or a child or something..."

Brian rolled his eyes, "And throwing his cell phone around ISN'T childish?" he asked. Howie fell silent appropriately. "I'm just saying," Brian continued, "That maybe we should give Nick a little more space."

Suddenly Nick burst into the living quarters of the bus, glowing and grinning from ear to ear. "Dawgs," he cried, "I'ma saaaaaave the world! AGAIN!"

AJ, Howie and Brian all exchanged uneasy glances. "What?" AJ asked for them all, blinking up at Nick.

"Agent Bryant called," he supplied, filling them in, "He has a real important case to solve and he thought of ME first to help him with it!" He paused, then embellished, "He said I'm a great agent."

AJ raised an eyebrow. "Was the case... by any chance... where his missing mind is?" he quipped.

Nick didn't seem to get it. "What? No he didn't say what the case is, exactly..." Nick grinned, "But we're going to Europe!"

"Europe?" Brian sat up straighter, "Europe??"

Nick nodded, "Yup! Europe. It's gonna be great! I'ma save the WORLD, for REAL this time, not just Kevin." He beamed proudly.

Brian furrowed his brow, "Nick.. we can't go to Europe right now, I've got things going on this summer before the tour and all that."

"Um... so?" Nick looked confused.

"So... I can't postpone my life to go gallavanting around the European countryside with you and a demented cop who thinks YOU are the best agent he's got."

Nick looked hurt a moment, then shook his head, "No.. no, Bryant asked ME to go to Europe. Not all of you. Just ME." He paused, letting that sink in, then, just for good measure, added, "You know... alone."

AJ and Howie raised their eyebrows simultaneously and looked at Brian to see what his reaction would be like. Brian paused. "Alone??? Oh hell no."

"And why the hell not?" Nick whined, "I'm a freakin' adult! And even if I wasn't," he added in a huff, "You ain't my dad ANYWAYS."

AJ spoke up. "Yeah, what was all that about space before, BRok?"

Brian shot AJ the Look of Death. "Nick, you're not going to Europe ALONE, what're you crazy?"

Nick set his jaw, determined, "Not ALONE... with Agent Bryant."

"The guy who let you get dumped into the Hudson River in a Hum-V?" Brian snapped.

Nick blinked in surprise. "Um.. Bryant didn't have ANYTHING to do with that, he wasn't even there, stupid."

"You should ask Kevin to go with you. Or bring at least one of us," Brian suggested.

Nick scoffed. "Yeah, because you guys -- who were THERE when the Hummer thing happened, at least -- did SO much to help me." He rolled his eyes.

"Hey, I was gonna jump into the freakin' Hudson to save you," AJ said defensively, "That Goose guy was damn strong."

"Right," Nick rolled his eyes.

"AND," AJ added, "I'm not doing anything this summer. You should take me."

"I'm not bringing ANYBODY," Nick replied firmly, "I'm a grown-up! I can do this by myself!"

Brian pinched his upper nose and closed his eyes, breathing deeply to keep his cool. Ever since Kevin had left the band, he'd felt it was his moral duty to be the father figure the way Kevin always had been. Nick had filled in Kevin's place in the interviews and fan relations, but Brian had been the support beam that'd taken the brunt of Kevin's dirty work behind the scenes. When he'd assumed the responsibilities, he had deeply underestimated how hard it would be to maintain happiness among the three other, younger guys. Especially in the case of Nick. Brian now understood why Kevin was so annoyed by Nick so easily: it was the frequentness with which he was doing SOMETHING to cause trouble. Whether it was taunting AJ, putting little pretzels on Howie's face while he was sleeping, or yelling thirteen octaves higher than a situation required... all in about ten minutes' time... Nick was constantly doing something for which Brian had to yack at him to knock it off. Nick saw this as him being picked on, since he was the one getting yelled at the most, but... and Brian had to admit it, now that he was in Kevin's position... Nick was the one doing things that deserved the yelling. "Nick," Brian said, mentally counting to ten because he knew Nick wasn't going to relax any time too soon. "Going to Europe alone is insane. It's not safe. In your case, it's like begging for trouble. Or worse. We only want you to bring one of us along for your own good - so you don't get killed."

Nick glared at Brian, folded his arms over his chest and pouted, very childlike, "I'm NOT a kid, Brian."

"We can still CARE, Nick," he replied, "We care about you, you know? Please, just... take one of us along, please." Brian could tell Nick's reserve was thinning because of the pitch he'd taken when he'd dropped the "Please"-bomb. He looked at Nick in the most sincerest of ways possible and touched his heart posessively. "I would just feel... a lot.. better, knowing you're in safe, capable hands."

"Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine," Nick answered with a groan, "But I'm not taking someone safe OR capable, I'm taking AJ."

AJ whooped loudly with excitement and pumped his arms up in the air, hopping about the bus's living quarters. "WhoOoo-hooo! I'm a sidekick, a sidekick, I'm gonna be a sidekick..." he sang in a goofy voice.

Nick rolled his eyes at his 'sidekick'. "NOT by my choice," he reminded AJ. He looked around at the other three guys. "One of these days, ya'll are gonna see I'm trustworthy." With that, he got up and left the room.

Howie looked at Brian, a small smirk on his face. "So much for giving him space."

Brian sighed, "Some things are better in theory, I guess."

Nick and AJ were waiting for Agent Bryant in the LaGuardia airport the next morning, like Bryant had requested. There was no sign of the officer anywhere in the waiting area as far as either of them could tell so far, and they'd been sitting in those plastic blue bucket seats for about an hour. Nick had his iPod on, humming to the music, lost in his own little world. He was looking every direction except towards AJ, who was rustling through his duffle back -- Nick's, not his own -- trying to find a pack of gum.

"Hello boys," came Bryant's voice at last. AJ stood and grabbed both duffles from the floor. Nick didn't notice Bryant had arrived, too deep into his music. Bryant glanced at Nick, "Uh..." then looked at AJ, "Well it's good to see you again."

"You, too," AJ said.

That's when he saw her. She was drop. dead. goregeous. AJ was sure his breath was taken away, in that cheesy I-Think-I'm-In-Love sense of the phrase. She had long jet black hair, cut in layers with lots and lots of curls. She had square framed glasses, making her look smart and classy, yet fun at the same time. And a little bit kinky. She wore an olive green skirt suit which reflected the green in her hazel colored eyes. She had an excellent shape, a beautiful butt AJ couldn't help but notice, and her cheeks had that soft fuzziness on them that wasn't like facial hair, more like the skin of a peach, which made you want to press your cheek against hers and rub. He swallowed.

Bryant noticed his stare and waved a hand to her. "This is my colleague, Ivana," he introduced her.

She reached out a delicate, gorgeous hand, and AJ took it, shaking it firmly. "Hello, I'm Ivana Focque," she said delicately.

AJ was sure he'd misheard, and smiled, "What?"

"Ivana Focque," she repeated, smiling.

AJ smiled a dirty grin, "You don't have to be so blunt about it, sugar... you had me at hello." Bryant's eyes widened.

Luckily for AJ, it was at this moment when Nick realized they'd been joined and pulled his earbuds out. "Hey!!" he grinned, "Agent Bryant! Dawg!! Long time no see!!" He hugged the agent, who looked deeply uncomfortable. Ivana watched, one eyebrow raised.

Bryant patted Nick's back and pulled away, "I was just introducing AJ to my new colleague," he said, waving a hand to Ivana. "She's from the European branch that we'll be working with once we get to France."

Ivana stuck out her hand to Nick, "Ivana Focque."

Nick stared at her hand and looked up at her. "Excuse me?"

"Ivana Focque."

His face reddened and he started laughing. "I'm... Nick.. Nick Carter," he answered. She lowered her hand, realizing he wasn't going to take it, and smiled tightly.

Agent Bryant covered his face, "Oh my God. I'm sorry, Detective Focque, please excuse these two..." he glared at Nick and AJ.

Nick said defensively, "Hey I didn't do anything!"

"Yet," Bryant injected.

"It's okay," Ivana said, "I get that joke often..." she smiled directly at AJ, "And from Mr. McLean of the Backstreet Boys, I'm not going to complain." AJ beamed, pleased with himself. Bryant seemed unneasy.

As they were walking through the airport towards the gate they'd be boarding the France-bound plane from, Bryant edged closer to AJ. "I don't want to find out that you've slept with my co-worker," Bryant whispered in a warning tone to him. "This is purely a business trip, even for you. Do not make it sexually charged. This case is about solving six murders and bringing justice to families who are missing members because of a cold blooded killer."

AJ nodded, "Yes sir."

"I mean it," Bryant reaffirmed before stepping forward and leaving AJ behind, having said what he needed to say.

Now... anyone who knows AJ knows this was where Bryant made his biggest mistake. And maybe if Bryant hadn't done this, the whole case would've worked out a lot differently. Who knows? All I can tell you for the time being is that knowing that Bryant DIDN'T want AJ to hook up with Ivana Focque made AJ all that much more determined TO hook up with her. It was now inevitable that he would fall in love with her, passionately and ravenously, and would probably forget about her the following morning. Thanks to Bryant's warning... AJ now HAD to have the girl.

-----

On the plane, AJ and Nick sat next to each other, while Bryant and Ivana were three seats forward and on the right handside of the plane. AJ had taken the window seat at Nick's insistance that if he was that close to the window he'd puke everywhere. AJ had been hoping to get the aisle seat so it would be easier to watch Ivana during the flight. He was craning his neck trying to see over a fat drooling man that sat in front of Nick, asleep and snoring loudly. Nick was flipping through a complimentary copy of National Geographic magazine.

Suddenly AJ's view of Ivana was blocked with a page from the magazine featuring a mega-upclose picture of an ugly looking spider - all tanish brown with red and brown striped legs that were huge and looked like they were trying to reach out and grab AJ's face. AJ scowled, "What the hell, Nick." He waved the magazine away.

"Dude, dude..." Nick nudged AJ excitedly, "No check it out... This spider, right? It's called a Golden Orb Spider."

"That's great, Nick," AJ answered, straining to look at Ivana again.

"Guess why," Nick suggestion.

AJ shruggd, "Why?" he asked distractedly.

"You gotta guess, dude," Nick insisted, "C'mon, guess!"

"Because it's round," AJ answered robotically, trying to ignore Nick.

"NO!" Nick squealed, "It's called that because it craps gold!!!!"

That was enough to get AJ's attention off the girl. "What??"

Nick was grinning now. "It shits gold! How sweet is that??"

AJ hated spiders, especially ones that looked all creepy and evil like that one did, but... then again... "I wish I crapped gold," AJ replied.

Nick nodded enthusiastically, "I know, right???" He looked at the picture with a dopey grin on his face. "Dude, AJ.. AJ.. Next time that someone asks me that stupid question about what animal I'd be if I could be any animal in the world... Next time someone asks me that I'm gonna say a golden orb spider cos I could buy uber awesome stuff with my POOP."

AJ looked at Nick, eyebrow raised, and laughed, "You, Carter, are a sick fucker." He shook his head and Nick grinned. "That would be pretty sweet, though," AJ relented. "Shittin' gold I mean. Not being a spider. If I was a spider, I'd scare the crap out of myself."

"Well... you'd be rich anyways," Nick laughed.

AJ smirked. "Fo' shizzle, muh Nizzle," he agreed.

"Word," Nick answered, doing the goofy hand sign. "Word, my brotha."

When the plane landed in France, Nick was exhausted. He'd tried to fall asleep during the flight, but it just hadn't happened. Every time he'd tried to, AJ had gotten up for something. First, it was to get his iPod out of the carry on bag -- then a book. Then it was to go to the bathroom. Then God only knows what reason he had, but he had to get up for something. Then there were three seperate questions for Agent Bryant, then a new magazine, and even two return trips to the porceline gods. Nick had finally given up and just reopened his National Geographic and started reading about ancheint Inca civilizations and their sun god temples.

In reality AJ was up and down trying to observe Ivana better. He'd finally realized he couldn't see her very well over the drooling fat guy and had decided that if he had reasons to walk past the two agents that they wouldn't suspect he was actually just checking one of them out every chance he got. He wanted to learn more about her - things that were more substantial than the fact that she was really attractive. So far, he'd learned that she owned an iPod, and that she didn't like peanuts.

As the four of them trooped through the Paris airport to the doors leading to the parking lot, Nick was like a zombie. He meandered along behind the rest of them in a sleepwalk, blinking tiredly. Ivana led them to an unmarked mini-van, reminiscent f the VW hippie buses. Bryant furrowed his brow, "No agency vehicles?" he asked.

Nick rubbed his blood shot eyes, "I don't give a crap what kinda car it is, can I sleep while we drive?"

Bryant replied, "No you can't sleep while we drive, I've got to give you---" he paused to yawn midsentence, "---a debriefing while we drive."

Ivana smiled, "We can debrief the boys when we get to the HQ," she suggested, "Let the poor thing sleep, he's ready to fall over." She opened the back door of the van for Nick, who promptly climbed in. She turned ot look at Agent Bryant. "Why don't you sleep too? I don't think Mr. McLean here would mind riding shot gun for awhile..."

AJ gulped.

Bryant was hesitant. "Well..."

"Everything will be fine," Ivana smiled, reassuring him.

Bryant watched as Nick curled up in the corner of the van and promptly fell asleep. He did make the offer look VERY appearling. Bryant sighed. "Okay," he agreed. He gave AJ The Look as a warning, then joined Nick in the backseat.

AJ hopped into the passenger seat and watched as Ivana walked around to the driver's side door. She sashayed in a way that AJ always had thought made asses look amazing: Ivana's was no exception. He drew in a deep breath and had to tell himself to be good. Agent Bryant was still very much awake in the backseat, he reminded himself. Ivana crawled into the driver's seat and smiled as she buckled her seat belt. "Are you ready to ride?" she asked AJ in a sultury tone.

The words, coming form any other woman, were ordinary, but coming from Ivana... well.. AJ thought she was a sex goddess already. He coughed, mental images of scant lingerie printed with the FBI logo on her ass, and himself handcuffed to a bed running through his perverted little head. He swallowed. "Yes. Yes, I'm ready to ride." His voice sounded squeaky.

Ivana turned ont he van and backed out of the space while AJ turned, trying to focus on landmarks and scenery -- things that he'd seen a hundred times on tour but had never really NOTICED. But his mind was occupied so that even now he wasn't going to see or notice any of those things simply because Ivana Focque was RIGHT THERE. He wondered how she smelled, how she tasted, if she was any different simply because she wasn't one of the American girls he was used to being with. He wondered if she was... you know... GOOD. She looked limber enough, he thought, and weren't female law enforcers all into like gymnastics and stuff? Or maybe it was the Girl Scouts. He wasn't sure it even mattered.

"So... do you like Paris?" she asked after a long silence.

"I like the French women," AJ responded automatically, the way he always did when people asked him those sorts of questions in interviews. It was a pattened answer to a delicate question, one he could use even in countries he didn't like: after all, women were women, and AJ didn't care where they lived, just that they had two legs, and breasts. But this he'd said to Ivana. He felt his face redden.

Ivana laughed, "I am French," she told him, "Do you like me?"

AJ glanced at Bryant, who was asleep, and fleetingly wondered if Ivana was TRYING to get him in trouble with the agent. "Yes, very much," AJ answered after a brief pause, "Do you like American men?" he turned the table on her.

She smirked, "Very, very much. Particularly ones who look like...." she looked him over as they paused at the enterance to a rotary. "...you."

AJ paused, deciding to take it to the next level. "Maybe... we should... do dinner sometime," he suggested in a tone he hoped came out as casual. "You know -- just you and I."

Ivana smiled, "Sounds splendid," she replied.

AJ grinned. 'Screw you Agent Bryant,' he thought rebelliously, 'I can fall in love with whoever the hell I want to.' "You'll have to show me around France, too," he told her, "Immerse me in the French culture."

"But of course," Ivana agreed. "And you know, AJ," she said in a sexy, low voice, "It doesn't have to be just business for us."

Suddenly Nick's head popped up between their seats, interrupting AJ's moment while his heart was still slamming against it's chamber walls erratically. Nick looked at Ivana, then at AJ. "Hi," he said, smiling, "What'cha guys doing?"

AJ, pissed that Nick was salting his game, snapped, "What the hell does it look like we're doing, Nick?" he rolled his eyes and turned in his seat, giving Nick his shoulder to talk to.

Nick pouted. "Are we almost there?" he asked, switching his attention solely onto Ivana. "I kinda need the bathroom."

"Why the hell didn't you go at the airport?" AJ asked, his voice harsh.

Nick frowned, "I was too tired then!! I have to wake up before I have to pee!"

"Go back to sleep, dumbass," AJ hissed.

Ivana raised an eyebrow, "Aw, don't be so hard on the poor lil guy."

"Yeah AJ," Nick grinned, pleased the sexy FBI agent was on his side, "Don't be so hard on me." He stuck his tongue out at AJ and rested his head on Ivana's shoulder. AJ fumed and turned away, irritated.

"And Nick, to answer your question," Ivana said, "We are almost there."

When the van pulled into the FBI headquarters parking lot, Nick shook Agent Bryant awake. "We're theeeerrrre," he sang out into the officer's face, "At the headquarters! We're there!!" Agent Bryant groaned at the sound of Nick's chirpy voice. He wasn't a morning person (or a person who took well to waking up, rather, since it was later afternoon at the time), and he didn't like people who woke up happy. Evidently, he thought, Nick must be one of those people. He grumbled as he sat up, stretching his arms, and yawning loudly, the way a lion might. "You sleeped a lot," Nick informed him.

"Slept," AJ called from the front seat, "The term is slept."

Nick rolled his eyes, "Okay, then you SLEPT a lot."

Agent Bryant nodded, "Yeah." He hadn't felt like he had slept hardly at all. He stretched his neck and looked about. "So this is the French HQ, 'ey?" he asked.

Ivana smiled, "This is it." She opened her door and climbed out.

"It's big," Nick observed as he hopped out of the back sliding door and onto the pavement, "Like a giant..." he tilted his head, looking at the high gray cement walls with darkly tinted office sized picture windows dotting the sides, "...cider block."

"There's a jail inside," Ivana explained.

Agent Bryant whistled as he joined Nick, "Yup, sure is big." He paused, "How long have you worked here?"

Ivana paused, "About three months," she said, "I was transferred. My old HQ was tiny, this one's quite a transition... like going from elementary school to high school overnight," she laughed.

Bryant nodded, "I can see how that could be... It all seems overwhelming, actually."

"You'll get to know it," Ivana said, smiling, "In time."

Bryant's eyes roved over the little gathering on the pavement and nodded, "Well, we're all accounted for, so let's get a move on to the debriefing room and we'll fill these two in so we can start our investigations."

"Right this way," Ivana replied, leading the three boys up the walkway to the looming tinted front doors. Nick squinted, trying to see through them, but it was too dark. When Ivana opened the door, he half expected to see an eerie dimness about the place, but the fluorescent lighting within was the same as any other office. And, to Nick's surprise, once he'd stepped inside and had turned to look back outside the glass no longer appeared tinted at all. He wondered if that stuff was available on cars.

Ivana led the troop through a long corridor, up two small flights of stairs with oddly short steps (Nick almost tripped twice because they were half the drop of normal steps and it was throwing off his balance), through a labyrinth of halls and offices, and finally came to stop by a receptionist's desk. She smiled, "Hallo Raquel," she greeted the woman typing behind it, "Which of the debriefing rooms was prepared for myself and Agent Bryant?"

"Let me see, let me see..." Raquel began typing furiously on her keyboard.

Nick, curious, inched closer to watch. He made his way around the other two guys and sidled up next to Ivana, looking over the lip of the desk at Raquel's computer. She had an apple iBook, he noticed with envy. He'd been thinking about getting one of those for awhile, but hadn't gotten around to it quite yet. Then he noticed the basket of lollipops - tootsie roll pops, his favorite! He reached over, "Can I have one of these?" Agent Bryant's eyebrows went up.

Raquel paused, looking surprised, "Uh.. sure, Agent....?"

"Carter," he said, selecting a blue one from the pile, then thinking and grabbing a second one before withdrawing his hand.

"Agent Carter," Raquel said, "Help yourself," she added, although it didn't seem that he'd have any problem doing that. She turned back to her computer.

"Thanks," he said, unwrapping the pop and balling up the wrapper. He tossed it into Raquel's waste bin and stuck the lollipop into his mouth. "Mmm..."

Raquel looked up finally. "Debriefing room 22 is assigned to your case," she told Agent Focque, handing her a ring of keys, "Do you know where it is? I can show you the way if you'd like."

Agent Focque smiled, "Thank you Raquel. I do believe we'll find it okay, though," she replied.

Onward the troop went down another series of corridors, following Ivana. Nick nudged AJ as they walked and offered him the second blue lollipop, AJ rolled his eyes and pushed Nick's hand away. Nick shrugged and slid the lollipop into his pocket and returned to savoring the one that was already in his mouth. Nick hoped he wouldn't have to remember how to get back to this room again on his own after this long trek they'd taken. He could barely remember how to get to the stairwell from the door and that'd been a moderately straight shot.

After a few moments, Agent Focque stopped and pointed to the door, "Here we are..." she unlocked the door with one of the keys from the ring and stepped inside. Bryant held the door opened while the two Backstreet Boys stepped inside before entering and closing the door behind himself. The room was similar to a meeting room at Jive Records, Nick thought, only without creepy wallpaper that moves when you stare at it too long. The office also had windows, which was something the Jive meeting rooms also lacked. But the long mahogany table was there, and canary yellow legal pads with pencils that were too short to hold right ("golfing pencils" Brian had called them once). Glasses on coasters sat at each of the four places around the table, filled already with iced water. Nick wondered who'd been there to fill it and when. The ice was still in tact, though, so it hadn't been too long ago.... creepy. The other thing missing, thank God, was plastic fruit. For this, Nick was grateful.

"Have a seat," Ivana waved her hands at the table, then walked across the room to the windows and promptly drew the blinds, grabbing a projector from a rolling stand in the corner Nick hadn't even noticed before. She set the projector at the end of the table and pulled a giant white screen down from the ceiling. She sat in front of the projector. AJ sat next to her, while Nick and Bryant sat on the opposite side of the table.

Nick pulled the lollipop out of his mouth. It was already down to the tootsie roll part and he stuck his tongue out at AJ. "Isth muh thung boo?" he asked.

AJ raised an eyebrow. "Yes, your tongue is blue."

Bryant laughed, "You speak fluent Nick, I see," he said.

AJ nodded, "You learn to after fifteen years around him."

"Sixteen," Nick corrected, biting the tootsie roll off the stick, "Sixteen years around me, AJ."

"Whatever," AJ rolled his eyes, "Too long at any rate." Nick stuck his tongue out again.

"Okay boys," Ivana said in a scolding tone, "Whenever you're through, I'm ready to begin bringing you kids up to date on the case."

"Sorry," AJ muttered.

"Yeah, sorry," Nick added.

Bryant chuckled and leaned back in his chair, "Proceed, Agent Focque," he said, bringing his hands up behind his head and putting his feet up in the chair across from him, reclining back to listen. He always found it interesting to hear what other factions of the FBI had to say about the same case he'd been pouring over for months. Sometimes it was eye-opening, hearing it from another stand point, and had even led to solving cases.

Ivana turned on a laser pointer, and smiled. "We're searching for a killer known solely as the Masquerade Murderer," she stated, "This killer, presumably a male, has murdered six victims in six months, each with similar tactics according to gender." She flicked on the projector, and on the screen appeared a headline from the first murder, which was accompanied by a photo of an average looking guy. "The first victim, twenty-seven year old Marc Brushill of Poughkeepsie, New York, was found killed in his apartment by local authorities." She flipped the photos and a picture of an average apartment filled the screen.. well, average minus the dead body laying in the middle of the floor. Marc Brushill was laying in his apartment, looking as though he'd been flung to the floor by a lightening bolt or something, face down. Agent Focque cleared her throat, "Upon inspection of the body, the victim was shot twice in the back, before the murderer.." she paused, hesitating to say the words, "....neutered him."

AJ blinked. "He cut off the guy's..." His eyes widened. "Are you fucking serious?"

"Cut clean," Bryant confirmed, "Right to the pelvic bone."

Nick's face was pale. "That's.. really.. fucked up actually."

"Poor guy," AJ observed, "Well, at least he was dead when he did it."

"Actually," Ivana broke in, "Autopsy reports showed that the victim had not died from the shots fired, but actually died from blood loss after the -er- operation, so to speak."

"What a way to go," whispered AJ, shocked.

"That's really sick," Nick commented, a horrified expression on his face, "Why'd he do it?"

Ivana shrugged, "Popular suggestion among my colleagues is that the murderer was jealous. Perhaps Marc Brushill had been the other man in an affair or some other misdeed. It's unknown." She turned back to the projector. "However, the next victim was a female." Up on the screen popped a high school yearbook photo of a young girl. "Seventeen year old Amanda Peters of Newark, New Jersey, was murdered in her backyard by a swimming pool while her parents were away on vacation..." The photo flicked to a pool deck with a blackened lounge chair and crime scene tape surrounding the area. "The girl was found in this lounge chair, charred nearly beyond recognition, and then decapitated." Nick was glad Ivana didn't show any pictures of THAT.

"Was she the girl?" he asked.

Ivana shook her head, "We're assuming not because of the age difference between Miss. Peters and Mr. Brushill."

Bryant spoke up, "In the New York office, we're guessing that Peters may have known something about the first killing. How we don't know, but her bedroom was ransacked and her mother reported that her daughter's journal was missing a week later. We're assuming the killer took it."

"The third victim," Ivana continued, "Is more than likely the girl involved in the first victim's story," she flicked the projector screen ahead to show a picture of a classy looking blonde woman with a smile on her face. She had windblown hair and a necklace from Tiffany's around her neck. "Twenty-five year old Beverly Quincy of Manhattan was found shot in her uptown apartment approximately thirty-five minutes after having gotten her nails manicured. Like Miss. Peters, Miss. Quincy was charred beyond recognition and decapitated."

AJ puzzled, "Curious. How do you know these murders were all the same guy and not a copy cat, like on TV?"

"Good question," Bryant replied. "We located the bullet's fired on victims one and three and tested the ballistics and found that they were beyond a doubt shot by the same gun."

Nick scrunched up his nose, "What's a ballistics?"

"The ballistics of a gun," Bryant answered, "Are markings found on a bullet, made by the gun's barrell when it's fired. Every gun has slightly different patterns inside from the way the metals solidify, and therefore every gun will shoot a bullet with a different ballistic. The ballistics on the four bullets recovered from the scenes were identical, thus linking them to the same gun."

"Learn something new everyday," Nick commented.

Ivana continued her commentary on the case, "The next victim was a thirty-one year old man, whose name was Vince Lemming." The projector flicked to a personal family photo of a friendly looking guy, whose smile made Nick wish he'd got to know him 'cos he looked like he would've been fun to chill with, sitting in Yankee stadium, wearing a baseball cap and holding up a hot dog proudly. "Vince was a doctor, and he held season tickets to the Yankees." She frowned, and flicked the screen. Nick shielded his eyes from the picture, unable to look at it. Even AJ choked up. Vince Lemming was laying face up, sprawled across a flight of carpeted stairs. The picture graphically depicted what the Masquerade Murderer had done to the victim. Blood was everywhere. "Vince bled to death," Ivana said, her voice tightening, "And was found three days later by his newlywed wife upon her return from a spa he'd paid to send her to while he was supposedly going on a business trip."

"Should've gone on the trip..." AJ mumbled, shaking his head.

"Theory is that he was cheating on the wife," Bryant input. "We're guessing he probably was cheating on his wife with a woman the murderer was seeing as well."

"Jealousy sucks," Nick said, "This is really bad."

"There's more," Ivana interjected, "Including the murder which took place here in France barely over a month ago." She flicked to a picture of a magazine with a beautiful model on the cover. "This is Lorriane Saches," she said, "You probably haven't heard of her, but here in France she's the equivilent to your Tyra Banks... Or was."

Nick bit his lip. "Her, too?"

Ivana nodded, "She was found in the Penthouse suite of the Grande Hilton hotel in Paris." Nick gulped. He'd stayed there once while he was dating Paris Hilton, in that very room. "She, too, was decapitated and burned. Her head was thrown from the balcony of the suite and fell twenty-three stories to the lawn below."

"Damn..." AJ whispered.

Bryant rubbed his chin. He hadn't known that Lorriane Saches was a model. This was new information for him.

"The final victim was thirty year old Eliza Kriscolby, a French woman who was on vacation in Germany. She was killed in her hotel room in front of her husband in the same fashion as Lorriane Saches.. Except her head wasn't thrown out the window."

Nick perked up slightly, "So there's a witness?"

"Well... Sort of," Ivana paused. "See, the Masquerade Murderer is called that because every time that the kill is made, supposedly the murderer wears a mask that makes it impossible to see who it is beneath it."

"Technically then," AJ offered, "The murderer could be a woman?"

"Well, it's possible," Agent Focque relented, "But highly unlikely."

"So... what do you got to work with as far as telling who it is?" Nick asked, confused, "Nobody's seen the guy."

Bryant leaned forward, "We've got the bullet ballistcs, we've identified the weapon as a hand gun. We've also got the knowledge that the murderer is seeking victims ages seventeen to thirty-one, mostly between twenty-five and thirty. This means that more than likely our murderer is that age as well."

Nick paused, "But... how're we gonna find the guy? There's a bunch of people between twenty-five and thirty in the world. Hell, even I'm between twenty-five and thirty."

"That's where it gets tricky, Nick," Bryant replied, "We have to comb the evidence we have, and we've got quite a bit of it gathered so far, and see if we can't find something - anything - with a finger print or a particle of DNA, anything that could lead us to at least narrowing down our scope. Until then, every twenty-five to thirty year old we encounter that has any knowledge whatsoever of the case will be considered a suspect."

Nick shook his head, "This is gonna be like finding a needle in a haystack," he whispered.

Ivana Focque laughed, "Oh far worse Nick..." she smiled, "At least you know what a needle looks like."

If Nick was to be blunt, he'd tell you that as far as he could see the whole thing was of moot point. The evidence seemed pointless and really what was left to find out? Whoever the person was that was doing this stuff, they were damn good at keeping their identity a secret, and there was little to nothing left behind to work with. All Nick saw was more evidence proving what they already knew: people were dead and somebody did it. He wondered if he really was as good as Bryant had thought because to him it seemed more like Agent Bryant needed like a prophet or some sort of clairvoyant. As it was, Nick was fresh out of crystal balls. Bryant, though, seemed pleased enough with the evidence, and hell, who was Nick to rain on his parade?

They were sifting through the evidence collected from the two crime scenes in Europe. What seemed like pointless crap was stored carefully into ziplock bags that were dated, numbered and lettered for filing. Nick looked at the stuff over and over trying to see what purpose it could possibly serve in solving the case and it seemed like he no longer got his mind wrapped around the idea that some desperate investigator had grabbed whatever he could find to catalogue, Bryant would pick up the same thing and piece together a storyline that accented perfectly the truth that they'd already covered in the debriefing. For instance, Bryant was holding up a necklace which Lorriane Saches was famous for wearing to every photo shoot and catwalk session she'd ever done in her entire career. Urban legend, Ivana had explained, said that Miss. Saches never removed the necklace, ever, even off the job, because she felt an emotional connection to it that had never been publicly revealed. Bryant inspected it carefully. Nick was looking over his shoulder. It was just a necklace, he thought. Yeah, it was weird the girl had taken it off the night she died, but a billion things could've explained that. But Bryant rolled his finger over the clasp. "It's broken," he stated, "To me, that suggests the piece was pulled from her neck forcefully." He laid it back into a plastic bin of evidence he was categorizing as especially useful. "Maybe it'll have a finger print," he told Nick, his voice pitching with excitement, "Wouldn't that be amazing?"

Nick had nodded, but what he'd wanted to say was that no, the only thing he personally thought would be amazing right at that moment was a huge cup of coffee, preferably containing about seventeen thousand times more caffeine than your average cup of joe. Funnily enough Nick was having issues finding a decent cup of coffee. For a country who revolutionized the art of making the stuff -- lattes and cafe au laits, those were French, right? -- there was ridiculously little amounts of the stuff. The headquarters had actually offered them all TEA instead of coffee. TEA!!!! For COPS!!!! Even Bryant had found that weird, but he'd gotten over it faster than Nick did. Nick hated tea, for one, and for two... helloooo? It's coffee! When he'd whined to Raquel - the receptionist - about it, she'd responded, "We'll see what we can do." But his coffee had never come. Man, what he wouldn't do for like a Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts or something.... Pretty much anything. Hell, he'd even settle for gas station coffee!

Bryant held up a baggie with a piece of white cloth inside it. Just a little piece, all ripped and frayed at one end. Nick raised an eyebrow. "What... the... hell...?"

"This is a shred of cloth found in the emergency fire escape leading from the penthouse suite in the Grande Hilton Hotel. It was ripped from an article of clothing believed to have been worn by the Masquerade Murderer," Bryant replied, "It was caught on the railing."

Ivana jumped into the conversation, "That isn't a very reliable piece of evidence," she informed Bryant, "There's no telling that it belonged to the murderer."

Bryant shrugged, "There's no telling that it DIDN'T, either." He examined it, turning the bag over in his hands.

AJ was leaning against the wall in a plastic chair in the corner, pushing the chair back so that the front two legs were off the floor. He could almost hear his mother telling him to sit in the chair right or he was gonna break his neck. He let the chair fall forward, causing a clatter that made Bryant, Focque and Nick all look at him in surprise. "So.. when are we gonna start, like... actually... you know, detecting shit?" he asked.

Bryant laid the evidence down. "What do you think we're doing now, exactly?"

AJ shrugged, "Staring at useless crap in sandwich bags." Nick snorted, trying to contain a laugh. Bryant shot him a look before turning back to AJ. "We should have like magnifying glasses," AJ continued, "And wear those stupid hound’s-tooth hats and jackets," he paused. "We should have some guy named Watson around so we can say shit like, 'Eureka, my dear Watson! Eureka!'"

Ivana chuckled, "Someone's read a few too many Sherlock Holmes novels," she teased.

"Sherlock Holmes?" Nick asked, scrunching up his nose, "Dude, AJ.... he wasn't an FBI agent, he was a private eye, dumbass."

AJ rolled his eyes, "Dumbass, he was from London, and plus they didn't HAVE the FBI back then... Besides, even now it's the same thing."

"Nuh-uh!!" Nick argued. The two detectives turned back to the evidence while the Boys fought. "Private eyes investigate like marital affairs and shit like that, not real important stuff!"

AJ laughed, "You asshole, Sherlock Holmes solved murders. Didn't you ever read the books?"

"No," Nick admitted, shaking his head.

"Besides," AJ barreled on, "Lurking after some super rich guy who's in love with some pretty little cocktease is probably less boring than sitting here doing THIS crap is."

"You didn't HAVE to come, moron," Nick snapped, "You invited yourself, REMEMBER?" AJ sighed and turned away.

Bryant broke in, "Okay you chuckleheads, are you quite through?" They nodded. "Okay, good. Because we're about to head over to the Grande Hilton to check out the Penthouse Suite."

AJ jumped up, "Okay, NOW it's getting interesting.... Let's go."

-----

Fifteen minutes later, the four of them were in the lobby of the Grande Hilton hotel. Nick glanced about the lobby fleetingly. The whole room carried memories of his vacation there with Paris and he felt uneasy, like she was about to pop up out of the wood work at any moment. Bryant had led them through the heavy doors to the reception desk, where the clerk had informed him that the hostess would be down momentarily to escort them to the penthouse suite crime scene. Nick stood behind a fichus plant, looking at a plaque that hung on the wall and hitting the elevator door buttons, making them open and close. When he'd stayed there with Paris they'd done some not-so-innocent things on the penthouse elevator. He could still remember the dress she'd had on that day- it was orange. She'd looked sort of like carrot, but at the time he'd thought it was sexy as hell. Now, he was just feeling very paranoid.

Suddenly AJ appeared at his side and nudged him. "Hey, wouldn't it be really awkward if the hostess was---" AJ hadn't even got the words out of his mouth before, on the other side of the ficus from where they stood, the elevator doors parted and an all too familiar smell filled Nick's nostrils. He froze. His face flushed and his hands went clammy. What the hell were the odds?

Paris Hilton floated out of the elevator and across the lobby to Ivana and Bryant. She wasn't wearing the carrot dress -- thank God -- instead she had on a short dress with various shades of pink butterflies printed all over it. She had on pink pumps and long dangly earrings that drew the eyes to her face. Her hair was shorter than Nick recalled it ever being. Paris extended a hand to Agent Focque as she closed the distance between herself and the FBI agents. "Hey Ivanna," she drawled, giggling, "Loves the bag..." She pointed to a leather bag Ivana had slung over her elbow. "So happy you're here..." she turned to Agent Bryant and smiled. "I'm Paris," she said, as though there were a human being on earth that didn't know that...

Bryant shook her hand, "Agent Bryant, FBI New York." Bryant motioned towards Nick and AJ. "And these," he said, "Are Agent Carter and Agent McLean, also FBI New York."

Paris turned to shake their hands as they stepped out from behind the fichus rather reluctantly, but stopped when her eyes landed on them. Her face paled. "They..." she pointed, "...are FBI agents?"

Bryant nodded, "Honorary."

Paris laughed, "That's hott." She looked at Nick, then turned away to face Bryant, giving the Boys the cold shoulder. "If you come with me, I'll show you the penthouse." She turned and began leading the way to the penthouse elevator.

Ivana and AJ both followed her onto the elevator, but Nick paused and grabbed Bryant's shoulder. "Can I wait down here?" he asked, "This is..really weird for me."

Bryant raised an eyebrow, "Agent Carter, you need to look at this crime scene. It's important evidence. Don't let the girl scare you off... It's all about business this week, like I've told AJ a million times already." With that, he turned and joined the others in the elevator. Nick sighed and joined as well... highly reluctantly.

Nick felt uncomfortable as the five of them clustered into the elevator that led to the penthouse suite. Because he'd been the last one into the elevator, he'd been the one in the front when Paris herself had stepped on. She'd stood so close to him he could smell the soap she'd used in the shower that morning on her skin. Her perfume was gagging him. It reminded him, however, of their misdeeds in the very elevator where they stood now... and even if their relationship had ended on a side note that day had been well... not to quote the devil herself, but... hot. He wondered if she was thinking about it too.

"So like, I haven't been able to sleep in this penthouse since Lorriane died in there," Paris declared, "It's so uber creepy, I keep, like, waiting for this bad guy to break in and try to stab me in the face." She shuddered.

"Why on earth might someone want to stab you in the face?" AJ asked from the back of the elevator in a tone that could almost pass as innocent wonderment.

Paris continued like he hadn't said anything at all. "When do you think I'll be able to, like, revigorate the room and make it hott?" she asked.

"Renovate, maybe?" AJ scoffed. Bryant stepped on his foot. "Ow, Jesus..."

"Not much longer, Paris," Ivana replied, "We're nearly set with the scene. Agent Bryant traveled here from New York, so we had to preserve the crime scene until he arrived."

"Sexy," Paris replied as the elevator door opened, freeing them into a little room with coat hooks and another fichus plant. Nick hurried off the elevator car even before Paris had the chance to step off it, and took deep breaths, like he'd narrowly escaped something... Which maybe he had. A Tigress, Nick thought, looking at Paris as she followed him off the car. "Are you okay?" she asked, "Cos if you're going to, like, die or something, don't do it in this penthouse or I may not sleep in it even after it's reiterated."

"Renovated," AJ piped up.

"I'm fine," Nick answered, not giving anyone time to react to AJ's correction. "I'm just.... claustrophobic."

Paris rolled her eyes, and stepped past him to the door of the penthouse. As she unlocked the door, she looked at Nick with a knowing, bitchy smile and said, her voice low so only he could hear her, "Funny, that elevator never bothered you that way before..." Nick's cheeks flamed as she pushed the door opened and stepped inside. "I don't remember you being closet-phobic at all, actually," she said a bit louder for everyone to hear.

"Closet-phobic?" AJ asked, eyebrows raised, following her and Nick into the hotel room.

Agent Bryant stopped in the door way to inspect the locks. "Maximum security locks, pretty tough to break into..."

Paris nodded, "I had those installed because I hate the idea of people coming in when I don't want them to." She looked at Nick meaningfully, then moved to the kitchenette, where she hoisted herself up onto the counter and watched from there as the four of them flooded into the room and began looking about.

Bryant began fiddling with the lock. "Do we know if Lorriane had these locked or not the night of the murder?"

"Evidence suggests the officers on duty that night struggled with the door, and the police report says that's how the murderer managed to escape. The door kept them from barging in too quickly and he was able to flight down the fire escape." Agent Focque responded automatically, walking towards the sofa.

Paris glanced at them from her perch. "Yeah, Lorriane would've had them all locked up," she said, "She was scared something like that would happen. She said that once at a party during a drinking game we played with some hott guys after fashion week."

"Did you know Lorriane well?" Bryant asked as he began combing the room for something. Nick followed him around, glad for a distraction for Paris's presence.

Paris shrugged, "I know all the models on circuit. We partied a few times, like I said, and I saw her a lot at, like, fashion week and we worked the international Calvin Klein ads together..." Paris yawned, then switched her topic of discussion. "I think I'll have them put a Jacuzzi up here when they do the reinvention."

"Renovation," AJ corrected again.

Paris sighed, "Whatever..." she reached into her oversized purse, causing Tinkerbell's head to pop out, and pulled out a tube of red lipstick, which she began to apply, ignoring the four of them.

Ivana was standing by the couch, "This is where the body was found," she said, pointing to a chalk outline on the floor in front of it.

Nick looked at the spot and gnawed on his teeth, imagining the beautiful woman that had graced the cover of the magazine Ivana had showed to them at the HQ. His eyes roamed to the Paris city lights gleaming outside the sliding glass doors that led to the balcony. It was a beautiful sight, he had to admit, the Eifel tower and the twinkling lights that looked like a billion stars, the fountain, all of it. It was gorgeous. He looked at the balcony railing and gulped, remembering the debriefing. "Is that where he threw her head?"

"Ew," Paris intoned from the counter.

"Yes," Ivana answered, "As well as the fire escape." She walked to the doors and swung them open, stepping onto the balcony. Nick and Agent Bryant followed her, while AJ stayed where he was.

AJ had leaned against the wall beside the door upon entering the room and was yawning as they stepped onto the balcony. Paris hopped down off the counter and wandered over to him, leaning against the wall beside him and assuming her classic pose, with her minimal bust thrust out towards AJ like it held some sort of appeal. He looked at it and raised his eyebrow, then looked up at her. "When did you two become detectives?" she asked.

AJ sighed. He hated this woman, he always had, even before Nick had opted, stupidly, to date her. Something about her voice grated on his nerves and he couldn't help but think she resembled some sort of weird bird, like a crane or a flamingo or something, he wasn't sure what but something odd. "Nick sort of stumbled into it," he offered vaguely, "There was this whole weird misunderstanding thing with the mob that turned out to sort of be not as much of a misunderstanding as he thought... I don't know, it's a long story."

Paris nodded slowly, "And you?"

"I don't know," AJ answered, "Agent Bryant asked Nick to cover this case and Brian was worried about him." He paused, realizing he was talking to Paris. He looked at her a moment, then assumed his usual pissy attitude with her. "Like it's any of your damn business."

She shrugged, "It's hott, that's all. I was just curious." She sighed, "I hate it up here." AJ just nodded because he didn't know what to say, even if a conversation with Paris was something he'd wanted to have. "It's really icky thinking that she DIED in here," she continued, looking around, "It sort of feels like the place is haunted or something. Like Lorriane's spirit is spooking about... Ew."

"If the room's really haunted," AJ replied, "It's not by Lorriane. Ghosts aren't really people of the past, they're evil demons from Hell." He paused, "At least that's what Brian said." He paused again, then smiled in a fake, sugar-coated way. "But one would imagine you would know all about that, since you're from Hell yourself."

Paris rolled her eyes, "You always thought you were, like, so funny, but it's so unsexy." She paused. "When they rejuvenate this plate, it's gonna be so hott in here... I told them to paint it yellow."

"Renovate," AJ responded.

"You piss me off," Paris replied, her face close to AJ's to make the bark in her words seem a bit more intimidating.

Just then the two Agents and Nick returned into the room and the three of them froze just inside the doorway. Paris jumped back from AJ, who looked stunned. Nick was able to speak before any of the others. "AJ," he cried, "Go wash your face! You don't know where that's been!"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Paris snapped, her hands flying to her hips.

AJ shook his head, "Oh fuck no she was just trying to be a bitch, I wasn't saying anything."

"I wasn't trying to be a bitch," Paris answered defensively.

Nick rolled his eyes, "It just comes naturally."

"AGENT CARTER," barked Agent Bryant, "Step down."

Nick paused, "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means wait in the damn hall," Bryant responded, pointing, "You too, Agent McLean."

AJ rolled his eyes, "Jesus Christ, I didn't even do anything..." he said, following Nick into the little room between the penthouse door and the elevators.

Bryant turned to Paris, "I apologize for them, they're way out of line."

Paris shrugged, "Whatever. Look, just call when I can start the reinventing."

"RENOVATING!!!!!!!!!!!!" AJ screamed from the foyer.

Paris rolled her eyes, "WHATEVER!!!!!!!!!!!"

Agent Bryant shook Paris's hand. "It was delightful meeting you." He quickly joined Nick and AJ in the foyer.

Ivana reached for Paris's hand as well, shaking it tightly. "I'll be sure to call you on that renovation time," she told the heiress. Paris pushed Ivana's hand from her own, rubbing her fingers where Agent Focque had squeezed just a little too tight. "Don't worry, it won't be long before you can get rid of those ghosts..." With that, Ivana, too, joined the other three in the hallway, pulling the door closed behind her and leaving Paris alone in the uber creepy penthouse suite. Paris glanced around nervously, just waiting for something to jump out at her at any given moment.

That night back at the hotel they were staying at, Nick and AJ were watching TV. Although, really, AJ was watching TV while Nick sat there, strangely quiet considering he was... well, Nick. AJ had tried turning on a show that was similar to Don't Forget the Lyrics, only - of course - in French, just to piss Nick off, but Nick hadn't even noticed. Nor had he noticed when AJ turned the volume up to near deafening decibels during the I Will Always Love You score of The Bodyguard - also in French. AJ raised an eyebrow at him, studying the way he was laying. Nick had his legs up over the back of the sofa, his head hanging over the edge of the seat, and his face scrunched up, deep in thought.. or something like it, anyway. AJ kicked him. "Hey, dumbass," he said, "You're gonna get all your blood rushed up to your head if you don't sit up."

Nick glanced up. "What?"

"Your head," AJ repeated shortly, "It's gonna explode. Sit up."

Nick sat up. "Nawh, it won't explode..." He paused. "Damn, it does kind of hurt, though." He laughed, "Actually it kinda feels like I'm high or something."

AJ rolled his eyes, turning back to the TV. "So what the hell is the matter with you?"

"I guess I'm dizzy cos of the head thing," Nick answered, rubbing his eyes.

"No, I mean overall tonight," AJ responded, flicking the channel away from Whitney Houston.

"I dunno," Nick replied, sighing, "Stuff. I guess I'm kinda confused."

"About what?" AJ asked.

Nick shrugged, "Well, like... Yanno that Lorriane chick?"

AJ nodded, "Yeah..."

"Well she locked the doors right?" AJ nodded. Nick continued, "So that means the Murderer was let in, cos nobody could've broke in those locks without breaking stuff and the door was fine.

"Probably," AJ nodded, figuring what Nick had said sounded logical for once. "So?"

"Sooo..." Nick paused, taking a deep breath, then exhaled the sentence, "What if we found out who she came back to the hotel with that night, if anyone?"

AJ shrugged, "The cops already did that."

"Probably," Nick answered. He thought about it a second, "What if they didn't, though?"

"So tell Agent Bryant," AJ suggested, turning back to the TV yet again. He was already sick of the whole secret agent shit.

"I think I'll tell Agent Bryant," Nick said, as though it were his original idea. AJ rolled his eyes. "Plus, too, AJ," Nick restarted the conversation, "If the Masquerade Murderer went down the fire escape, wouldn't the people in the courtyard have kind of noticed?"

AJ paused, looking at Nick a second, thinking. "I dunno. Was there people even in the courtyard?"

"Yeah," Nick replied, "There was, cos there was people who saw her head come flying out of the window."

AJ shrugged, "Then yeah I guess someone would've seen the murderer coming out." He raised an eyebrow at Nick, "Why?"

Nick shrugged, too. "I dunno. It just seems kinda fishy I guess. I don't know why, but something doesn't add up to me."

"So tell Agent Bryant," AJ reiterated. He flicked the channel back to The Bodyguard and turned it up, deciding it was the best thing on TV in the end, and ignored Nick.

"I think I will," Nick decided, standing up. He looked at AJ. "Well?"

"What?" AJ asked, looking up.

Nick shrugged, "You're gonna let me go all the way down to Bryant's room alone?"

AJ paused, looking at the TV then up at Nick, "Yeah, sure why not... You're almost thirty."

"Well, I haven't been allowed to do anything else in forever," Nick answered.

"So cherish the moment," AJ replied.

Nick smiled, "I might even go to a vending machine before I go to Bryant's room."

"You rebel you," AJ said dryly, turning away.

Nick walked out of the hotel room, feeling macho and important for the first time in a few days. AJ sighed, relieved to be rid of him, and stretched out on the couch. He'd no longer got comfortable and interested in the movie than the hotel room phone rang. He groaned and struggled to get up to his knees and reached for the phone on the table behind the sofa. "Hello, Nick and AJ's room," he said, hitting the mute button on the remote.

"Hello AJ," came Ivana's voice.

AJ blinked in surprise, and tossed the remote to one side. "Hey Agent Focque, 'sup? Nick's just gone downstairs to talk to Bryant."

"I called for you, actually, AJ..." she paused, "And off duty, you can call me Ivana."

AJ grinned, please. "Okay then, Ivana... How can I be of your service?"

There was a long pause and for a split second, AJ wondered if she had hung up. Finally she answered, "I'm lonely, and..."

"Come over," he said, cutting her off, "I've got The Bodyguard on TV, I mean it'll probably be over before you get here, but I'm sure there's other shit on we could watch... and some popcorn in the other room and, well, I don't drink but I know how to make a killer mocktail."

"A killer mocktail, huh?" she asked, "No puns intended, I hope?"

"No puns," AJ laughed.

She paused. "Will Nick be back to join us?"

AJ glanced at the door. "I'm sure he can find some place else to be for awhile..."

"Good. I'll be there in a half an hour.... See you then."

AJ hung up the phone and looked at the muted TV. "Well," he mused, "I wonder where Nick can go for a bit." He stood up and decided the best way to pull this off was to piss Nick off and make him WANT to go somewhere. He jumped up, and rushed into the hall. Nick couldn't have gotten too far, the way he waddled about. AJ ran down the hallway towards the elevators, but stopped halfway when he heard humming in the vending machine room. He stopped and backed up, then stepped in and around the corner to where the machines stood. There, humming and rocking on his feet before the machine, was Nick, already holding several snacks and drinks in his hands. "Yo," AJ said, leaning against the door jam.

Nick looked up, "What're you doin' here?" He asked, clutching to his stuff protectively.

"Brian called," AJ lied, "And wigged out when I told him I let you go off through the hotel alone."

Nick's eyes widened, "What the fuck? Does he think I'm twelve? Jesus.." he rolled his eyes, "Thank you very much, but no thank you. I'm not a kid, I'm an ADULT!" Nick paused, looking at the vending machine, an angry pout on his face. Suddenly his eyes lit up, "Ooh! Strawberry poptarts!!" he struggled to reach for his wallet.

AJ raised an eyebrow, then pulled his own wallet out of his pocket, took out a bill and stuck it into the machine, pressing the poptart code. He tossed it on top of Nick's pile of stuff. "You were saying?"

Nick blinked, "What? It's poptarts. They rock. Adults like poptarts, too."

"Not usually," AJ answered.

"I didn't even go see Agent Bryant yet," Nick whined.

AJ shrugged, "So see him tomorrow, then, I'm missing The Bodyguard."

"So buy it on DVD," Nick snapped.

"I'm not buying it," AJ answered, "When it's on TV right now. You can tell Bryant your stupid idea tomorrow."

"STUPID IDEA?" Nick shouted, "It's NOT stupid!"

AJ shook his head, "Whatever, Nick. We're going back to the hotel room."

"No we aren't," Nick replied, "We're going to Agent Bryant's room."

"Nick. I am NOT missing the end of this movie."

Nick rolled his eyes, "So treat me like my fucking AGE instead of your IQ size. Let me go by myself, I'm not an idiot, AJ."

Clearly this wasn't working quite the way AJ had meant for it to. He looked at his watch and decided to try another tactic. "Okay, fine. Let's go downstairs, then get back upstairs. Quickly." He turned and marched out of the vending machine room, Nick following along behind with his arms stacked high with his provisions. AJ looked around the hallway, searching for an idea, and that's when he saw inspiration. "Hey Nick, c'mere a second," he said.

"I can't see you over my shit, dawg," Nick mumbled from behind the pile of junk food.

AJ grabbed his elbow, "C'mere..." he pulled him down the hall a little way to the propped opened door of a janitor's closet. "C'mere.." he pulled him inside and stopped when he was standing in the middle of the room.

"What smells like Clorox?" Nick asked, stretching his neck to look around his stuff. His brow furrowed, "Why the hell are we in a janitor's closet?"

AJ backed out of the closet slowly, "Well.. see.. Nick... it's like this... I wanna be alone for a little bit, but BRok would pretty much kill me if I made you stay out of the hotel room all night without knowing where you were at least and... well..." AJ kicked the wooden thing out of the way of the door, "This is the only way I can think of to know that since I'm in a time crunch..." he glanced at his watch, "I got like five minutes to find and pop popcorn and make mocktails."

"Popcorn?" Nick dropped his stuff, "Mocktails? Do you got a girl comin' over?" He dropped his stuff on the floor, and it scattered everywhere.

"Of course," AJ paused, spotting a bag of microwavable popcorn on the floor by his feet. "Hey, look at that." He smirked. "Thanks, Nick." And with that, he closed the door, and rushed back to their hotel room to wait for Ivana to arrive.

Agent Focque sighed and yawned the following morning and was surprised to find herself... well, not in her own bed. She glanced at AJ and smiled, then crawled out of bed and slunk into the bathroom to take a shower. AJ was still asleep ten minutes later when his cell phone rang, quite loudly, from the pocket of his jeans, which were flung on the floor by the door. He groaned, "What the helllll..." Reluctantly, he rolled off the side of the bed and inched towards the jeans. "Jessssuuuuuuuuuuuusss..." he moaned, "I'm coming, shut the hell up." He grabbed his pants off the floor and pulled the cell phone out of the pocket, answering it without looking at the ID. "Hello?"

"AJ? Hi, it's Paris."

"Shoot me now," he whispered, slapping his own face with his hand and groaning.

Paris hesitated, "What?"

AJ plastered a fake smile on, like she could see him, "I said hi."

"Oh, hi," she paused, "So I haven't heard from Agents Focque or Bryant yet and I thought I'd see if you'd heard about me getting the okay to do the rejuvenation?"

"Renovation," AJ said, rolling his eyes, "And dude, no, it was just fricking yesterday that we were there..."

Paris, on her end of the line, shrugged. "Well I don't know.. I thought maybe they'd know. I just really.. I want to start the rendition, you know? I was really wanting to stay there for this one fashion show I have in France next month and..."

AJ sighed, "Ren. o. va. tion."

"Whatever."

"Look, Paris, I got no idea, okay?" AJ said, throwing himself back down on the bed, "I really don't, the best person to call would be Agent Bryant or Agent Focque." Just as he said her name, the bathroom door opened and Ivana emerged, wrapping simply in a plain white towel, still damp from the shower's steam. AJ nearly dropped the phone. Like she wasn't hot enough when she was totally dry, moist she was even better. If that were possible. AJ felt his knees go weak.

Paris let out a long, agitated sigh. "Do you know where I could get in touch with Agent Focque?"

"Uhhh..." AJ looked Focque over, wondering if it would be entirely horrible to just hand her the phone. Paris may be a bitch, but she was a bitch with ears, and right at the moment AJ just wanted to tell everyone with ears about his great fortune in having gotten to sleep with someone as sexy as this....creature...that stood before him. But he figured with his luck, telling Paris it would somehow end up getting around to Bryant and then he'd be in deep shit. "Try calling the headquarters," he said.

Ivana sat on the bed, leaning back just so, and the towel slipped over her knee so that her entire leg was bare, tight and perfect. AJ swallowed hard. "Who's that?" Ivana asked, her voice sultry.

"Do you got the headquarters’ number?"

AJ paused, "Well, PARIS," he emphasized her name for Agent Focque to hear, which made the agent scowl, and then AJ turned away. "No I don't have the number."

"Why are you saying my name funny?" Paris asked.

"I don't know. Look, that's all I got to tell you, okay? I'm hanging up," AJ told her briefly, "Bye." He closed his phone shut and turned back to Agent Focque, who had sat up and moved the leg from AJ's view. "I didn't think she was ever going to shut the hell up," AJ announced as he moved to the bed. He crawled toward Agent Focque and leaned towards her to kiss her, but Ivana blocked his mouth with her hand. "Hey, what's wrong?" AJ asked.

Ivana looked AJ in the eyes, "Do you like Paris?"

AJ laughed out loud, unable to contain himself, "Oh fuck no," he replied, "I hate that woman. She screwed Nick over royal a couple years ago. I didn't really like her much before that anyways." He winked, "I've always been team Nicole."

"The pregnant one?" Ivana asked, "With that gothic boy from that band?"

"Good Charlotte... Joel Madden... Yeah." He paused, "Or maybe it's Benji. I don't know."

Ivana looked at the window, "I can't believe I met you, AJ."

AJ smiled, "Well I can't believe I met you, either."

Ivana looked at AJ, "No I'm serious. You're a perfect guy, you've got an amazing sense of humor, you're so gentle... you're great in bed..."

AJ grinned, "Well..."

"I'm just so glad that you're... well... mine."

AJ hesitated, "Yours?" he laughed, "Yeah."

"What?" Ivana asked, smiling, "Don't you want to be together?"

Well, AJ thought, what I really wanted was sex and I got that so I'm good. But of course he wasn't about to say that out loud. "I think you're great," he told her, "But I don't know how long I'll be in France to keep it all going."

"I'll move to Los Angeles," she suggested, "Get a job with the office there..." she smiled at AJ meaningfully.

AJ felt all weird and pressured and he crawled back off the bed, and began getting dressed, trying to relieve the tension of the awkward moment. Ivana didn't move, just sat there as though she were leaning close to an invisible person. AJ buttoned his jeans and pulled up the fly. Ivana sat back and looked at him expectantly. "I should probably go see if Nick's still stuck in the janitor's closet."

"What?" she asked.

"I locked Nick in the janitor's closet last night," he explained. "I didn't.... well I mean." He paused, "I didn't think it'd be all night, that's all."

"Right," Ivana said, "You thought we were going to watch a movie."

AJ shrugged, "Well, I didn't think we'd fall asleep."

"So you expected the sex."

AJ felt his face flush a little bit. "No.." he lied, "I just didn't think we'd fall asleep." With that, he kicked on his pair of Converse sneakers, "I'm sure Agent Bryant is on his way to headquarters, too. So maybe you want to head over there, then I can get Nick out of the closet there and we can get ready and we'll be over HQ within a few minutes..."

Ivana nodded, "Right... It's all about the business." She stood up and slid her feet into her pumps and grabbed her dress off the chair where AJ had carelessly thrown it the night before. "I'm not going to HQ tonight, though, I've got a flight to catch."

"Flight?" AJ asked, "Where are you going?"

"I've got a second case I've got to investigate the crime scene for," she replied. "I'll be back tomorrow."

AJ raised his eyebrow, "Okay."

"So I won't see you until then," Ivana said, looking at him expectantly again.

"Okay," AJ replied, wishing she'd just leave and cursing himself for not having taken Bryant's advice about keeping everything business oriented. "So I'll see you when you get back, then."

Ivana walked over and kissed AJ passionately, running her fingers up into his hair - well, what hair he had - and then down his back. "Don't you go forgetting about me," she commanded, "I'll be back." With that, she walked towards the door. AJ couldn't help but watch. She had a great swing on her little ass. He sighed and grabbed his shirt from the edge of the bed, pulling it on, glad that he'd avoided, somewhat successfully, the whole awkward situation that had almost been at hand there. He gave it a few minutes, just long enough that Ivana wouldn't be in the hallway anymore, and walked out to the janitor's closet.

-----

"Thirty-four thousand, two hundred, thirteen bottles of beer on the wall, thirty-four thousand, two hundred, thirteen bottles of beer... you take one down, pass it around, thirty-four thousand, two hundred, twelve bottles of beer on the wall..."

Nick sighed, even getting irritated with himself. He'd been laying on his back for the last ten hours. He'd started out okay, but the whole experience had become increasingly boring. He'd eaten all his snacks and drinks first, then poked around the closet and found absolutely nothing to do. Finally he'd resorted to the infamous One Million Bottles of Beer on the Wall song, while staring up at the light bulb that dangled from the ceiling.

When the door opened, AJ stood awkwardly in the frame, looking down at him with a sorrowful expression on his face. "Hey, Nick..." he said slowly.

Nick rolled over onto his side, giving AJ his back. "You better have at least gotten laid," Nick said coldly, "Because I just spent the night -- the WHOLE NIGHT -- on a cement floor in a janitor's closet for your little date."

"Well..." AJ said, "I might've."

Nick rolled back over to look at AJ. He studied him a moment, then slowly sat up. "Well... was she hot?"

AJ nodded, "Very."

Nick paused a long moment, then, with a sigh, said, "Then I guesssss I forgive you. But only because she was hot. If she wasn't hot I'd have to kick your ass."

"I'd like to see you try," AJ responded as Nick struggled up to his feet.

Nick shook his head, "No ya wouldn't, dawg... trust me."

"I could so kick your ass..."

"Nope, sorry," Nick answered as the two of them turned to step out the door, "But... you can't even reach my ass."

"Well... you wouldn't kick my ass, that's for damn sure," AJ said.

Nick thought a moment. "No.. no AJ, you're right... Kicking your ass would require you having an ass..."

"Well, hey, hey now. That just ain't very nice," AJ said as the door slammed shut behind them.

At headquarters that evening, Agent Bryant, Nick and AJ sat around the large table in the debriefing room, talking over a dinner of ham and cheese sandwiches. They'd been analyzing the evidence most of the day after saying good bye to Agent Focque, who had left to catch her plane to take care of her other case. Well.. at least Nick and Bryant had been looking at the evidence. AJ was just eating and listening, though Nick had thought he'd seemed distracted most of the time, despite his insistence that he was paying attention.

"We'll head to Germany to see the crime scene there when Agent Focque gets back," Bryant said, gnawing off a mouthful of his sandwich. He chewed a couple times before he continued, "We should wait for her because she said she hasn't seen it yet, either."

"I was thinkin'," Nick said, putting his sandwich down on a paper plate that sat in front of him.

AJ coughed, "You shouldn't do that... Burning important brain cells there."

Nick squinted his eyes at AJ, then continued, turning to Bryant. "Has anyone checked to see who Lorriane came home with that night?"

Bryant paused, putting his sandwich down, too. "What?"

Nick poked at his sandwich, pulling pieces of the crust off. "Well, she had those crazy ass locks all done up right? And there's no way anyone could've got through that without like breakin' down the door or bustin' up the wall or something, sooo.... whoever killed her, had to have gotten in there because she let them in. So has anyone seen who she came home with that night? Maybe she was partying and the murderer was at the club or whatever and picked her up that way."

Bryant mused, "I thought of that, too, actually, but according to the file the investigators originally assigned this case asked the manager of the hotel and he said that Paris requested nobody film her pent house area. There's a big plant covering the view of the penthouse elevator doors, so you can't see who, if anyone, Lorriane brought up to the room, and there's no cameras from that point on up to the room. They felt it was secure enough since there's only one elevator that goes up there and Paris is the only one who has the key, other than whoever is staying in the room, that is... Supposedly."

Nick shook his head, "No, I know there's a security camera up there somewhere, I know there is." He paused, "At least in the elevator and the little foyer there."

"How do you know that?" Bryant asked, confused by Nick's definitive tone.

Nick's face flushed, "Well.." he'd kind of hoped this wouldn't come up. "Paris got it off her computer when we were staying there... she didn't want it to show up online."

Bryant's eyebrow went up, "Security issue?"

Nick cleared his throat, "Uh, sure."

"Yeah there was some major security issues. On the elevator." AJ supplied with an evil smile, recalling Nick's panicked phone call when rumors hit LiveDaily that the tape had leaked. "But ya'll took care of those issues really well, didn't you?"

Nick glared at AJ, "Shut up."

"Oh. THAT sort of security issue, I see," Bryant laughed, shaking his head knowingly, "Well, isn't that interesting."

"She's like that bug that has sex then eats the partner," Nick said hotly.

"Praying mantis," AJ supported, popping the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth.

Agent Bryant laughed. "Well, okay then. So how do we get the tape, Oh Experienced One?"

Nick paused. "...Paris would know." He hated bringing her back into this again, but... it was in the name of justice, so who was he to obstruct it? He got up and grabbed his cup off the table and filled it with water in a pitcher on a table by the door.

AJ sighed, "She's still waiting for her okay to renovate," he reached over casually and took Nick's sandwich while he wasn't looking. "She called me this morning." He took a bite out of the sandwich.

Nick turned around, returning to the table and sitting down quickly, looking at AJ. "She CALLED you?" he cried, "What? WHEN?"

"When I was in the room with I----" AJ stopped. He'd almost said Ivana. Thank God, he'd caught THAT before he said it. "I... I don't remember her name, actually."

Bryant rolled his eyes, "Oh good God, you two are just full of sexual sins, aren't you?" He leaned back in his seat and rubbed his forehead, then looked up at Nick. "Wait a second. If he was in doing it with some girl... I got you two the same hotel room. Where the hell were you?"

"AJ locked me in a janitor's closet," Nick answered, glaring at AJ again.

"She was hot," AJ offered as though this were a viable excuse.

"In a janitor's closet?" Bryant laughed, "Is that how we get rid of him?"

"It's one of many possible options," AJ answered with a smirk as Nick let out a strange whiney sound.

Bryant sat back with a sigh and began chewing on his sandwich thoughtfully as AJ polished off Nick's sandwich, and Nick realized his was missing. He lifted the plate up and looked under it, as though the sandwich could hide under there, then glanced side to side at the floor and over his shoulder at the table where he'd gotten the water from. He looked puzzled. "Where the hell is my sandwich?" Nick asked, confused. AJ shrugged.

"Well," Agent Bryant said after a moment, pausing to wipe his mouth with a napkin, "I guess we have to give Miss. Hilton a call, then." He tossed the napkin over Nick's head and into the garbage bin on the opposite side of the room like he was Michael Jordan or something.

-----

Luckily, AJ hadn't deleted his incoming calls list just yet and they were able to get Paris's cell phone number from there. Bryant was the one who made the call. Paris's ringback tone was her own song, Stars Are Blind, and Bryant raised his eyebrow. "Self-centered much?" he whispered.

"Hey sexy," Paris answered after a few moments of her song playing.

Bryant blinked in surprise, "Good evening, Miss. Hilton, this is Agent Bryant, FBI-New York."

"Oh hi," she drawled out, "Can I start the rendition yet?"

Agent Bryant responded slowly, afraid she wouldn't want to help them if he didn't okay the renovation. "Well.. I wasn't calling about the renovation just yet," he said, "I actually need some help from you before we can give you the go ahead on that."

Paris sighed. "Okay, anything to get the okay quicker. What do you want?"

"Well.. we need the security tape from the penthouse the night Lorriane was killed. Nick said there was one."

Paris laughed, "Oh he did, did he? That's hott." She paused, "Yeah. I can get the tapes... They're on my computer, though. Is Nick's email still the same?"

Bryant covered the mouthpiece, "Nick, what's your email address?" Nick started to reply, but before he could, there was a banging sound, followed by Paris's high pitched scream, and the phone dropped to the floor. "Paris???" Bryant asked, his hand flying up to cover Nick's mouth to silence him. "Paris???" His adrenaline spiked. "Miss. Hilton?" But no answer came, all he could hear was muffled speaking, but nothing was loud or clear enough so that he could understand it. "PARIS?" Then he heard a gun shot, followed a few moments later by shattering glass. "PARIS??????????"

A moment passed in silence on the other end of the line. AJ and Nick both wore concerned faces, staring at Agent Bryant with widened eyes. Bryant's heart raced. What had he just witnessed over the phone? But then Paris's voice came over the phone, thick with emotion and warbled with pain. "Help me," she pleaded.

"Where are you?" Bryant asked hurriedly, "I'll call the emergency team."

"London," she cried, "Hurry, please, I'm so scared." She started sobbing.

Bryant covered the mouth piece of the phone, "Nick, go tell Raquel to call the London emergency unit and the FBI-UK and get them to the penthouse of the Hilton."

Nick turned and quickly ran out of the room. AJ's face was pale. "Is she okay?" He hated the girl, but not so much he wanted to see her die.

Agent Bryant didn't answer AJ, though, instead, he turned away and returned to talking to Paris. "Where did he shoot you?"

"In my hotel room," Paris replied through her tears.

Bryant took a deep breath, reminding himself she was hurt... and blonde. "No, I mean, where in your body did he shoot you?"

"Oh." Pause. "My leg."

Well, Bryant thought, at least it's not a deadly shot. The attacker wasn't trying to kill her. "Nick's calling the emergency team," he said, then he paused and thought for a moment. "Paris, what did the attacker look like?"

"All white," Paris said, "Like a ghost or something. And he had a mask on. One like that guy in that movie... The plastic guy."

"Darth Vadar?" Bryant asked.

"Yes, yes," Paris sobbed, "Yes! And then he went out the window."

Bryant felt bad pressing her while she was in pain, but he needed the information. Only injuring a victim was a highly unusual thing for the Masquerade Murderer. Every other person had been brutally slaughtered. "Did he say anything?" Bryant asked.

Paris moaned in pain, then said, her voice sharp and gaspy, "He said to .. to back off, and next time he'd have better aim and I'd be sorry if I didn't."

"What?" Bryant was confused by the cryptic message, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know, I don't know," Paris sobbed.

Nick burst into the room, "They're almost there," he told Bryant.

"Paris," Bryant told her, "Nick said the emergency team is almost there. When they get there, you tell the EMTs to save the bullet, okay?"

"I'm scared," Paris confessed, crying.

"I know," Bryant answered, "But if you want me to solve this case, I need the bullet."

Paris sniffled, "Okay."

Bryant paused. "Paris... didn't you have the door locked?"

"Yeah," Paris answered.

Bryant bit his lip, "How did he get in, Paris?"

Paris paused. "I... I.. I don't know."

By the time Nick, AJ and Agent Bryant booked a flight, packed, called Agent Focque, got to the airport, flew to London, collected their bags, and arrived at the London Grande Hilton penthouse suite, Paris had already been discharged from the hospital. Her leg was wrapped in a cast and she was given crutches to help her walk to the bathroom and all. When the three guys arrived, she was laying in bed in the violated penthouse, crying, surrounded by about thirty brute looking security guards who kept whispering to one another on little microphones and ear pieces. "It's ugly, it's so ugly," Paris cried, looking at her cast, "It's so ugly."

"It's a cast," Nick said, eyebrow raised, "It's not gonna be like, designer, or nothin'."

"Uhck," Paris groaned, "It's so ugly, though. Why can't they make cute ones?"

"I dunno," Nick answered, "But at least they fixed your leg," he pointed out, trying to be positive.

Paris looked at him. "They did not fix my leg. They gave me pills. They put this monstrosity on me. They made my knee cap itch then told me I can't scratch it. They ruined everything, they didn't FIX it. This is completely jacking up my summer wardrobe." She paused, "Nick, do you have any idea how hard it is to firm up your legs enough to wear a mini-dress? I worked all spring, and now... look at this! How can I wear mini-dresses with this... this.. this ugly THING on my leg?"

Nick sighed. "I don't know, Paris." He desperately wanted to add an 'and I don't really care either', but he opted for politeness. She had, after all, been through a lot in the last twelve hours...

Agent Bryant meanwhile was searching the scene, inspecting every square inch of the room. He ran his fingers over the door frame, inspecting the locks, then he studied the shattered glass of the windows, where the attacker had leaped through to flee down the fire escape. Bryant sighed as he at last approached the bed to talk to Paris. "Did you get the bullet?" he asked.

"Yeah," Paris answered, "They sent it to Scotland."

"Scotland Yard?" Bryant asked. Paris nodded. "Okay, good." He turned and moved back to the door, running his hand down the wall along side it, looking for signs of strain of the locks. "It's seamless..." he mused, "There's no evidence whatsoever... Incredible."

Nick perked, "How about finger prints on the fire escape?"

Bryant's face lit up, "I never thought of that..."

Paris shook her head, "No he had gloves on," she said, "Cheap polyester ones..." she shuddered, "It was like Michael Jackson shopped at Wall World!"

"Wall world?" Bryant looked confused.

"Walmart," Nick explained, "She doesn't shop there often, if you can't tell."

"Right."

Suddenly Agent Focque came rushing into the room, breathless from running. "Thank you for calling me," she gasped, "I got here as fast as I could." She looked over the room, "What happened?"

"The Masquerade Murderer struck again," Bryant said, "But he didn't kill the victim this time." He moved aside to reveal Paris laying on the bed.

Ivana's jaw dropped in shock, "Oh, Paris," she said, "Are you okay?"

"This cast is ugly," Paris replied.

Nick groaned, "Okay that's it. Do you got any markers in here?"

Paris looked surprised, "What? ...In the desk drawer." She pointed. Nick got up and grabbed the markers form the drawer before returning and sitting down on the edge of the bed beside her. "Ew, you are not sitting on the bed with me."

"Fine then, keep your ugly cast," Nick said, "Cos I'm fine with leaving it the way it is." He stood up.

"No!" Paris gasped desperately, holding her hand up to stop him, "Please!"

"Then shut up," Nick said, sitting back down. He popped the caps off the markers and got to work.

AJ rolled his eyes and turned to Ivana. "As you can tell, Agent Focque," he said in a formal voice, "She is fine."

Ivana's eyes were unreadable as she looked at AJ. "Yes, I can tell," she replied evenly. She turned away quickly and began looking around the room, refusing to look AJ's direction again. She joined Bryant by the door. "Did they break in?" she asked, furrowing her brow.

"Paris doesn't know how they got in," Bryant answered, "But the door looks fine, just like the other one does."

Ivana nodded, "Seamless entry..." she looked at Paris. "Honey, did you let ANYONE in? Anyone at all?"

Paris shook her head, "No.. There wasn't anyone." She paused, thinking for a moment. "Oh.. well, there was the maid."

"The maid?" Bryant's ears perked and Nick looked up from his drawing.

"Yeah," Paris answered.

Agent Bryant and Agent Focque crossed the room to gather at Paris's bedside. "Did she leave before the shooting?" Agent Focque asked.

"No," Paris answered, "She was cleaning the kitchen when it happened. She came out into the living room when the gun went off."

Ivana rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Hmm.."

Bryant shook his head, "Well, I guess we'll have to wait and see what's on the security tapes."

Ivana looked up at him. "What security tapes?" she asked.

"The penthouse suite security tapes," Agent Bryant replied.

Agent Focque shook her head, "There aren't any security tapes up here. They said there isn't any..."

"Actually," Paris spoke up, "They don't know about them. The tapes are mine and my father's. After what happened with that tape my ex took of us my daddy didn't want access to any private tapes available to anyone else, so they're closed circuit, digital cameras, and the videos are loaded and saved automatically on our computers."

Ivana smiled, "Awesome! Can we see the tapes?"

Paris nodded, "Yeah I'll email them to Nick later," she replied.

Nick capped the markers. "There."

Paris looked at her cast and her eyes widened, "Oh Nick... That's hott." On her cast Nick had drawn anime style caricatures of Paris and Tinkerbell with splashes of flowers and colors all around decorating the blank space around the picture. Considering how quickly he'd drawn the picture, he'd done very well. Paris was smiling while she looked at it, then looked up at Nick, and for maybe the first time ever in her entire life she felt bad for having treated someone like shit in the past. "Thanks," she drawled. She laughed, "It's like a designer cast now..."

"Still ugly?" Nick asked, laughing. He put the markers away.

"No, it's hott," Paris answered.

"Good."

Agent Bryant held out a hand to Paris, "We've got to get going, but thank you very much for all your help and we'll be looking for those tapes, okay?"

Paris nodded, "I'll send them tonight."

"Feel better, Paris," Ivana said, as Nick and AJ waved awkwardly and followed the two agents out the door.

"Bye," Paris called after them, "Don't forget to call about the rejuvenation!!"

AJ rolled his eyes, "Ren. o. va. tion," he whispered, too quietly for Paris to hear, "Ren. o. va. tion. Is that so goddamn hard?"

It was too late to fly back to France, the Agents decided, and they hadn't heard the results of the ballistics test from Scotland Yard yet, either, so Paris arranged for three rooms to be made available, free of charge, for the four of them. Nick and AJ struggled through the tiny hallway in the mouth of the room to find themselves in a 12x12 square box crammed with two beds, like a classic hotel room, rather than the big open space suites they'd become accustomed to. Nick dropped his bags onto the floor. "Great."

AJ looked around, "This is it?"

"Apparently..." Nick squeezed between the foot of the beds and the dresser-slash-tv-stand and hoisted his bags onto the bed closest to the window, then looked around. It wasn't a bad room, as far as cheap, tiny rooms go, but it wasn't going to be very easy putting up with AJ in such a small, cramped area. Plus the paintings of sailboats on the walls were just annoying, and a little bit creepy.

AJ put his bags on the other bed and looked around too, then made a disapproving face. "Could she spare it?"

"I know, right?" Nick responded with a laugh. He sighed and threw himself back onto the bed, "God I could fall asleep on a bed of nails right now," he mumbled.

"Yeah, me too," AJ replied. He walked around the end of the bed to the desk in the corner and began rifling through the papers and booklets that were spread all over the place. He spotted a booklet entitled What To Do In London and opened it, flipping through to a page labeled 'Nightlife'. "Hey let's go clubbing," AJ suggested.

Nick sat up, "What happened to sleeping on beds of tacks?"

AJ held up the book, "There's a strip club across the street."

Nick raised his eyebrow, "Do you really, seriously, wanna spend the night looking at women who are getting paid to take their clothes off when we could be spending it here, in this room, sleeping soundly and getting rested up for the night???"

AJ looked at the booklet, then turned to look at his bed, then to Nick. "Yeah, kind of."

Nick laughed. "Jesus, AJ..." And laid back down. He sighed, "I'm tired, dawg." He closed his eyes and took a deep, relaxing breath, prepared to stay put for the rest of the night.

"They serve potato skins," AJ said. Nick continued laying there. "And coffee."

Nick sat up. "Coffee?" AJ nodded. "And potato skins?" AJ nodded. "And naked girls?" AJ nodded again. "This is a club?" AJ nodded yet again. "Are you sure? You sure it's not Heaven, cos it sounds like it to me."

AJ laughed, "It says it's a club."

"Okay let's go." Nick jumped up from the bed.

"It's sad that I said naked girls first, and you said no until you heard about the coffee, man," AJ commented, tossing the booklet down on the desk and grabbing his wallet out of his bag. He shoved it into his pocket. "I need ones."

"Me too," Nick answered, pulling his wallet out of his backpack. "Man I love coffee."

AJ rolled his eyes, "Are you a man? Good God, Nick, we're going to see strippers and you're focusing, again, on the damn coffee."

With that, they went out the door.

-----

Paris had struggled for several minutes trying to get herself situated on the sofa, but she'd finally managed to get herself into a semi-comfortable position. One of the bodyguards handed her the custom designed Juicy Couture iBook and she flipped open the laptop's screen. "Can someone get me the piece of paper next to my bed with Nick's email address on it?" she asked, holding up her hand and waiting for someone to drop it into her palm. A moment later, the paper arrived in her hand and she unfolded it, then hit the power button on her computer. She read the email address, musing over what the screen name could mean (it was a bunch of random letters, the first letters Nick's fingers had touched on the keyboard, actually, and therefore had no meaning). She looked up at the screen. It was still black. Paris hit the power button again, furrowing her brow. Still nothing. "What the hell.." she murmured. She pressed it a third time, harder this time, and finally it blinked on. The screen began to power up, and had just about opened when the entire screen turned blood red.

FATAL ERROR.

"What?" her eyes widened, "What the hell.." she clicked the mouse.

FATAL ERROR.

Paris tapped the keys, desperate, unsure what to do to fix it. Then the screen turned blue, and white letters scrolled onto the screen.

PARIS, I WARNED YOU TO BACK OFF. IF YOU DON'T STOP HELPING THEM FIND ME
I WILL MAKE SURE THAT YOU DON'T HELP THEM AGAIN. NOW, ABOUT THOSE TAPES.

Paris's eyes were wide. How was this even possible for someone to have hacked into her computer and cause this to happen...when her computer had been off, and right there beside her all day?

The screen turned red again.

HARD DRIVE ERASED.
FATAL ERROR.

The words blinked on and off the screen. Paris felt her heart beat fast... she pushed the computer off her lap, not even caring when it hit the floor, and laid back into the pillows of the sofa, her eyes wide and breathing unsteadily, staring up at the ceiling. She realized after a moment that she was shaking, terrified. "I want to go home," she announced suddenly to the bodyguard nearest to her. "Call the airport and book a private flight to Los Angeles, I'm not staying here anymore. I'm going home." She struggled to her feet with the help of one of the guards and set to work packing everything she needed to bring along.

-----

Nick and AJ were walking across the street to the club after trading in their cash for dollar bills at the front desk of the Hilton. The receptionist had given them funny looks, but hadn't said anything as she counted off the singles for each of them, and they waved good-bye to her and headed out the door. Now, they'd walked around two sides of the hotel to the back, where the club was located, in the basement of another building. Nick was buzzing with excitement, but not over the idea of the strippers, but over the coffee.

"God I'm so excited," he crowed, "I've gone like three days without it, and I'm having awful withdrawals."

AJ rolled his eyes. "Did you know that technically coffee could be considered a drug?"

Nick blinked in surprise, "What? No it isn't... It's coffee."

"Yeah, but coffee has caffeine in it," AJ supplied.

"Yeah? No crap? You don't say..." Nick chuckled.

AJ sighed, "Caffeine is an addictive substance, therefore it's a drug. The fact that you're having withdrawals from it tells me you're addicted."

"I ain't addicted to nothin', no how," Nick argued, as the two of them reached the other side of the street. "There's no such thing as Coffee-holics Anonymous."

"How do you know?" AJ asked, "Did you ever look it up?"

"No dawg!" Nick squealed as they paused in front of the club, "It'd be stupid, that's how I know..." Nick looked at the club. A couple of guys pushed by him, looking at him a bit funny, then jogging down some steps that led to the basement. Nick looked down them. There was a large black guy bouncing at the door. He looked up at the sign. "Polari," he read, looking up at the sign. "What the hell?"

AJ paused, "That's...unique."

"I've heard that word before somewhere," Nick mused, "Polari... polari... where've I heard it?"

"Did you and Paris party here once?" AJ asked.

Nick shook his head, "No I don't think so."

AJ shrugged, "Maybe you read about the club somewhere in a magazine or something. C'mon, let's go inside." Nick shook his head. "What? What the hell is wrong with you? We're here and now you don't want to go in? C'mon."

"No dawg, I got a funny feeling about this." Nick watched a couple more guys wander by him and down the stairs. He looked at AJ. "They're all looking at me."

AJ shook his head, "Nick, they're probably thinking you're retarded for hesitating. C'mon, let's go. The ladies must be something else, this place is getting flooded." AJ grabbed Nick's sleeve and dragged him towards the steps.

"I know I've heard that word before," Nick mused, allowing AJ to pull him along down the stairs. He rubbed his chin with the hand AJ wasn't pulling. AJ nodded to the bouncer, who raised an eyebrow as they passed by, then smiled. Nick glanced over his shoulder as they stepped into the dimly lit club to see the bouncer was watching them go in. "Dawg, I got a seriously weird ass feelin' about this place," Nick insisted.

"Will you please just relax?" AJ said, "It's a freakin' strip club, what could possibly be wrong with it?"

"I dunno!" Nick insisted. Just then a waiter went by carrying a tray with four steaming hot coffees balanced on it. "Oh my God, coffee." Nick forgot all about his insecurities and began pushing through the crowd of guys, following the waiter with his hot coffee.

AJ rolled his eyes and looked around. The room was packed. Suddenly a guy appeared at his shoulder, "'ey chap," the guy said, folding his arms across his chest, "You the Backstreet Boy? That one, Alex McLean, aren't you?"

AJ blinked in surprise. He hadn't really expected being recognized. But hey, it was pretty cool. "Yeah, yes I am," he answered.

"Oh fancy that!" the guy exclaimed, "That's a blow! It's just dolly seeing you here, outside the glossies and all."

AJ nodded. He'd understood maybe a third of that. "Right, dolly," he repeated. Damn, he thought, the Brits talk in a whole other language.


Nick followed the waiter right to the bar and sat at a stool. "Hey," he called the bar tender over, "Dude... hey!"

The bar tender walked over and looked at Nick. "What can I get for ya, dish?"

Nick paused, "Um.. no. No dishes, just some coffee."

The bar tender looked at him like he was nuts, but turned and grabbed a mug and filled it to the brim with steaming hot black coffee. Nick took it and grinned down into the cup. "Oh God I've been lookin' forward to coffee for three days..." He took a long sip.

"'at'll be two pound," the tender requested.

Nick nodded and tossed it onto the counter, then lifted his mug and turned his back to the bar, looking at the crowd. Across the room the stage was dark, it was between performances, he guessed. He glanced to the side to see if there were any honies - though why they'd be at a strip club if they weren't lesbians he'd never really understood but okay - and that's when he saw the two guys were down the end holding hands. He smiled. Yeah he wasn't gay but he was fine with it. Kinda weird they'd come to a strip club, though. He looked the other way, and saw two more guys that were together... and... Nick paused. "Uhh..." And suddenly he knew exactly where he'd heard the word Polari before.

He jumped up, putting the coffee cup back down on the bar and rushed back to where he'd last seen AJ. AJ was standing there talking to a guy who looked like a punky David Spade. Nick smacked his forehead, but couldn't help but giggle because... well, AJ had no idea he was being hit on, clearly. Nick ran over to him and grabbed his arm... This had to be done delicately. "AJ," he said, pulling his arm a bit, "AJ... I need to tell you something."

The David Spade guy looked at Nick and his eyes widened as he smiled. "You're here too, fancy that!"

AJ looked at Nick, "Nick, this is Lars."

"Hi Lars," Nick said. He looked at AJ. "I gotta talk to you."

"What?" AJ asked.

Nick shook his head, "Alone dude."

"What? Okay..." AJ shrugged at Lars, "Nice meeting you dude." Lars nodded and tipped his cap, looking a bit disappointed, and Nick hurriedly pulled AJ to the door. "What the hell is wrong with you?" AJ asked, "The show hasn't even started yet."

"I know," Nick said, pulling AJ out the door and back up the stairs, "But trust me on this one."

AJ followed Nick, sighing, "Nick, all I wanted was to check out some nice women, okay?" Nick started laughing as soon as they were out of ear shot of the club, and doubled over, grabbing his knees and wheezing. AJ blinked in surprise. "What the hell is funny right now to you?"

"I remembered where I heard the word Polari, AJ," Nick responded, looking up at his friend. AJ held up in hands in confusion as though to say 'what the hell'. Nick laughed harder, "Polari is a language," he said, pausing to giggle.

"A language?" AJ asked, "Like... Poland?"

"No, no," Nick laughed harder, "Like gay slang."

AJ paused. "Gay slang."

"Yeah.... That was a gay strip club."

AJ looked back at the stair well looming behind them. "And Lars..."

"...was hittin' on you," Nick finished, cracking up.

"And they all thought we were..."

"...gay," Nick replied, "Together."

AJ's eyes widened, "JESUS!" he shoved Nick away from him, just in case someone was looking. He shook his head, "Jesus.... I don't got a problem with being gay, you know," he said, "But I don't want people to think we are. Especially not together." He looked at Nick. "Well."

Nick giggled, "Remember Jimmy Licks? In Australia?"

AJ started laughing. "So we've been to a gay strip club... Guess we've done everything now."

"Except get coffee," Nick pouted. "I had like three sips back there."

"Should've asked for it to go," AJ said, walking around the hotel.

Nick sighed. "I need coffee, dawg... When am I gonna find some coffee?"

-----

When the guys got back to the hotel, they found Agent Focque standing in front of their hotel room door, about to knock. AJ was startled to see her there. "Ivana," he said, "What're you doing?"

She looked up, and seeing Nick with him, replied, "I was just checking in on you two. With the murderer lurking about I don't want to take any chances..." She paused. "What've you two been up to?"

Nick started laughing, "We tried to go to a strip club," he answered.

Ivana's eyes widened and she looked at AJ. "What?"

AJ shrugged. "There's a strip club across the street," he said, "Nicky here wanted to head over, so I figured I'd tag along."

"What the hell?" Nick squealed, laughing, "AJ, I didn't wanna go, I wanted to sleep. Then you teased me with promises of coffee."

"Well," Ivana said, her voice chilled, "I guess you're both doing fine, then. I'll see you both in the morning." And with that, she walked away towards her own room.

Nick raised an eyebrow, "What the hell's up her ass?" he asked, "She didn't even wait to hear that it was a damn gay strip club."

AJ shook his head, "I dunno, she's getting kinda weird if you ask me." He slid the key card into the door and stepped inside.

Nick followed, "Weird? Weird how?"

"I don't know.." AJ hesitated, he looked at Nick. "Can you keep a secret?"

Nick rolled his eyes, "The master of telling everyone else's secrets like it's nobody's business asks me, Fort Knox, if I can keep a secret."

AJ shrugged, then barrelled on. "Well, you can't tell Agent Bryant."

Nick raised an eyebrow, "What is it? You're the Masquerade Murderer?"

"No," AJ shook his head, "I slept with Agent Focque."

Nick's jaw dropped, "DUDE AJ!!! Agent Bryant told you-- you-- Oh my GOD! SHE'S the girl you locked me in the janitor's closet all night for?!"

AJ blushed, "Kind of."

"AJ!!!!!! You can't sleep with her! We're working with her! We're trying to solve a case with her!"

"So???" AJ's eyes widened, "Austin Powers slept with Beyonce in that one movie and they were solving a case together!"

"You are SOOO not like Austin Powers!" Nick cried, "I can't believe you!" he paused, "Wait, she's acting weird, but you slept with her?" He laughed, "AJ?"

"She wasn't acting weird when I slept with her," AJ said, "Now that I have, though, she's being..." he paused, "Posessive."

"Posessive?" Nick asked.

AJ nodded, "Yeah, like.. she wanted to move to America so we could go out together."

Nick laughed, "Nice."

"I'm serious," AJ replied, "She offered to move in with me back home. And she got kind of weirdly jealous when Paris called me the other morning about the renovation, and again just now in the hall. Did you hear how iced she got when you told her we went to a strip club?"

Nick nodded, "Yeah, but..."

"She's just being weird is all," AJ answered.

Nick shrugged, "She's a woman, they're all weird."

"Yeah, well.." AJ sighed, "I guess you're right." He flopped down onto his bed. "What's on TV?"

Nick grabbed the remote and laid down on his own bed, "I dunno. Probably nothing much."

Nick was laying on his stomach on his bed in the hotel room while AJ sat against his bed's headboard, watching a rerun of the Golden Girls on TV. Nick was clicking around the web, disgruntled. "Why do you think she didn't send the videos?" he asked, for what was probably the fiftieth time in the past hour. It was really bugging him. Paris had promised to send the videos that night, but she hadn't, and Nick was unable to think of any plausible reason why she wouldn't. He had hummed and mused and read random facts, trying to forget about Paris's email, but it hadn't worked. He wasn't able to forget. So he'd settled for asking AJ the same question every fifteen to twenty seconds.

"I don't know," AJ answered, then he snickered, "Maybe she popped too many pain killers."

Nick laughed, "Maybe." He sighed, clicking on his inbox icon again, just to make sure. Still nothing. "She said she'd send it tonight, though.. I don't understand her.."

"Have you ever?" AJ asked with a yawn.

"Nope..." Nick answered. On the screen, he clicked over to LiveDaily to see what the fans were up to, if anything. There were a bunch of pointless quizzes and polls and unrelated news stories cluttering the main screen.

On the TV, one of the old ladies said something that made AJ crack up. He clapped his hands, "Aw shit I love this show... Blanche is so me, if I were old."

"And if you were a woman," Nick added.

AJ laughed, "You'd be Rose."

"Is that the real old one that looks like a raisin?" Nick asked.

"No," AJ laughed, "That's Sophia. Rose is the dumb one."

Nick paused. "I thought Blanche was the dumb one?"

AJ shook his head, "No, Blanche is the slutty one."

"Ooohhh," Nick mused, "Got'cha." He paused as the conversation sunk in. "Hey! I'm not dumb I'm just --"

"Blonde?" AJ interjected.

Nick whined, but didn't bother arguing back. Mainly because he was distracted by a sudden, considerable amount of commotion going on outside. "What the crap is all that?" Nick asked, getting up off the bed and pushing his computer to the side. He hurried to the window and shoved the curtains open. "Oh my God, dude, come look."

AJ arrived at Nick's side. "Holy shit."

Down on the street, there were three British fire engines, two ambulance and a couple of squad cars, all with their lights flashing. A crowd was pouring out onto the street from the depths of the building whose basement was the Polari night club. Firemen were holding big hoses and spraying the flaming building, smoke as black as AJ's nail polish was filling the London streets. Nick's eyes were wide: he'd been in there just two hours, tops, before. Nick stared down as the flames were climbing the building, the heat so intense it made the building look wavy and blurry. The firemen worked desperately, spraying in from eververy angle they could.

AJ looked at Nick. "We should tell Bryant."

"Yeah, we should," Nick nodded.

The two of them hurried into the hallway to Bryant's door, where Nick began banging on the door, and they both started yelling, "AGENT BRYANT!! AGENT BRYANT!!" loud enough to wake the dead, filled with panic that they weren't quite sure why they were feeling it. Maybe it was foreboding. Or maybe it had something to do with the fourteen chili dogs they'd raced to inhale after room service had delivered them so nicely.

"He's not there," AJ said after a few moments without a response from Bryant's door. He paused, "Let's try Ivana."

"Maybe they're both in Ivana's room together," Nick suggested. AJ shot Nick The Look of Death. "Not like THAT," Nick whined, following as AJ bolted down the hallway. Before they reached Ivana's door, though, she stepped out into the hall. For some reason, AJ and Nick both ducked into the vending machine hallway and peeked around the corner as a man followed Ivana out of the room. Nick glanced at AJ's face, which was stricken with surprise.

AJ wasn't sure what to think. Despite the fact that he'd decided he didn't like Ivana as much as he'd thought he had when Agent Bryant said not to sleep with her, he felt a flame of jealousy burn inside him as Ivana smiled and leaned close to the guy, her fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt. She kissed his mouth and her eyes sparkled up at him. AJ ducked away from the hallway, further into the vending room. Nick glanced at him, then decided to boldly go where no Nicks had gone before: he stepped into the hallway. AJ's jaw dropped and he reached for Nick to stop him, but Nick was already around the corner.

"Agent Focque," Nick called, interrupting the kiss. Ivana looked up at Nick, her eyes panicked, searching the hall behind him for AJ. When no sign of AJ was there, she relaxed. "Agent Focque, have you seen Agent Bryant?"

The guy stared at him blurrily and annoyed as Ivana responded, "He's gone to Scotland Yard for the ballistics test results. He just phoned me to tell me to meet him there. I was just saying good bye to my friend here... Jake."

"Hi," Jake said, flashing a smile.

Nick nodded, "Right. Did you hear the commotion out front? Did you tell Bryant?"

"What commotion?" she looked concerned.

"That gay strip club across the street? The one me and AJ went to tonight?? It's burning down. There's all kinds of apparatus out there trying to kill off the fire," Nick explained. He glanced at Jake. "You ever go there, Jack?"

Jake shook his head. "Never have... And it's Jake, by the way," he corrected.

"GAY strip club?" Ivana's eyes were wide, "Really?" she rushed into the hotel room, leaving the door opened. Jake sighed and followed. Nick stood where he was. AJ peeked around the corner of the vending room door frame. Nick waved him to duck back just before Ivana returned, "How horrible!" she gasped. Jake followed her back out. Nick couldn't help but wonder if the guy was a puppy or a lover.

"Think it has something to do with the Masquerade Murderer?" Nick asked, his voice pitched with nervousness.

"No," Ivana replied, "I'm sure it's just a coincidence..."

Nick nodded, "Okay. I just was gonna tell Agent Bryant, you know, just in case, but... hey you'll see him when you go to get the ballistics test results, right? So tell him while you're there, about the Polari, I mean."

Ivana nodded, "Yes. I will."

Nick smiled, "Thanks." He looked at Jake. "See ya Jason."

"Jake," he replied.

Nick nodded, "What the hell ever..." and returned to where AJ stood waiting in the vending room.

AJ smirked, "Thanks for pissing that jerk off."

Nick laughed, "Yeah, it was fun."

-----

Meanwhile, Agent Bryant was not happy. He had called Ivana quite a few times, and finally managed to get a hold of her. She was running over an hour late, and now the Lieutenant was crossing the room they'd had Bryant wait in, a bright smile on his face, and she was still not there. Bryant stood to shake Lt. Cregg's hand reverently as they greeted one another. Inwardly, he cursed Agent Focque.

"How are you?" Lt. Cregg asked.

"I'm quite well and yourself?" Bryant answered, following as Cregg turned to lead him down the hallway.

"Very good," Cregg replied, "It's actually quite exciting to meet you. You've made a name for yourself after that case with the Backstreet Boys.... it's an honor working with you."

"And with you," Bryant replied with a smile. He paused, then addressed what he felt to be a 500 pound pink elephant tromping along behind him in the hallway. "I apologize that my colleague, Agent Focque, isn't here. She's on her way. She got held up with another case," he covered for her.

"It's all right," Cregg answered, leading Bryant into the ballistics lab. "It actually won't take very long to give you the results." He stopped in front of a table where the bullet lay in a clear plastic case. "See, upon studying this bullet and several makes of various guns, we've determined that there's no way this bullet was fired by the kind of gun your previous reports have shown shot the other bullets you've had tested."

Bryant looked at him, surprised... shocked even. "What?"

"This bullet wasn't fired by the same gun," Cregg said flatly, "There's no way. It wasn't even the same make of gun."

Bryant furrowed his brow. "So you're saying he has more than one gun?"

Lt. Cregg leaned against the lab table. "Well, that's another thing I want to talk to you about. Given the way the bullet entered the victim, the shooter couldn't have been any taller than five foot four."

"Five foot four?" Bryant asked, eyebrows raising, "That's an awful short guy." Lt. Cregg nodded. Bryant paused, "Cregg. Are you saying that my serial killer isn't a guy at all, but actually a woman? But... that doesn't even make sense, really. The victims.. they were women, and..." he let his voice trail off, blinking in surprise.

"Well. It makes sense... scientifically," Cregg replied.

AJ was not a morning person. Neither, really, was Nick. So, at four o'clock in the morning, when the two Boys found themselves standing in Heathrow waiting for their flight to Germany, they were like walking zombies in the waiting area. The two of them were leaning against a wall, their eyes half shut and nodding their heads, trying not to fall asleep. Even Agents Bryant and Focque looked tired, after having stayed up half the night discussing what they'd found out at Scotland Yard the night before after Ivana had finally arrived. Bryant had promised to fill all three of the co-agents in on what Lt. Cregg had told him about the ballistics test. So far, he hadn't said anything to anyone. Likewise, Nick and AJ planned to tell Bryant about the Polari when they reached Berlin.

"I'm tired," Nick whined quietly from his place beside a plastic plant. He touched the leaf to confirm it was fake and frowned.

AJ sighed, annoyed. "EVERYONE is tired, freak, shut the hell up."

"But I'm REALLY tired," Nick pressed.

Bryant looked up from a folder he was flipping through. "You can sleep on the plane, Nick."

"Yeah," Nick mumbled. Then he perked, "OR I could wake up on the plane...they'll have in flight coffee, right???" His eyes suddenly had shine to them.

"More than likely," Bryant responded, glad something might at least make the kid stop whining.

Suddenly over the intercom came a crackled, static voice. "Now boarding flight seven-twenty-eight to Berlin, seven-twenty-eight to Berlin now boarding, thank you."

"YES!" Nick leaped forth from his seat, grabbing his bag in lightening speed, and rushing to the gate. AJ and the agents did the same... just, at a slower pace. "Pllllllleasssssse tell me ya'll got coffee on the plane," Nick said to the attendant as he handed her his boarding pass.

She blinked in surprise. "There.. usually is..."

"YES!!!!!" Nick shouted again, frolicking onward into the little tunnel, "COFFEE!!!!"

AJ rolled his eyes. "He's having caffeine withdrawals," he explained to the attendant.

"Right." She smiled politely.

-----

They'd barely sat down before Nick called the stewardess over. "Can I get the biggest ass cup fulla coffee that you got on the plane? Like.. in a bucket, if you got it?"

The stewardess paused, "Yes, sir. Right after we take off."

"Thank you!" Nick cried as she staggered along in her high heels down the aisle toward the front of the plane. He turned to AJ, "I'ma get cofffeeee!"

AJ nodded, "Yes, because just what you need is more energy... Get sleepy again, will ya?"

"I can't... there's COFFEE."

"Coffee? No kidding? I didn't know that..." AJ responded, "I must not've heard the news the first seventy-three times you've said it."

As the Boys argued in their seats, the Agents were settling into their own seats. Bryant watched as Focque sat down. Now, Agent Bryant was a smart man, and as far as guys go he was pretty intuitive. This was why he'd become an agent to begin with. He had the gift. Now, his "gift" senses were tingling, and he'd been struggling with a thought most of the night. One that didn't quite make sense to him. He looked at Agent Focque, and wondered. "I'm glad you finally arrived to Scotland Yard yesterday," he told her, "You missed quite the briefing though before you got there."

Ivana Focque blinked up at Bryant in surprise, "Oh?"

"Yes," Bryant nodded. He glanced back at the two Boys, where Nick was craning his neck to spot the stewardess and AJ was looking out the window deep in thought. "I was going to wait until we got to the Berlin office, but..." he paused. "Lt. Cregg said that the ballistics tests they did on the bullet that shot Paris revealed evidence that it may have been a woman that did the shooting. Therefore," he added, "The Masquerade Murderer is more than likely a woman." He paused, watching her eyes as they widened, searching for hints... clues... anything that didn't quite fit. But all that came was the appropriate surprise.

"Could it be a copycat?" she asked, "We were so sure it was a man..."

"Could be," Bryant relented cautiously, "It was a different gun that was used, but the style was so similar to that of the Masquerade Murderer's that it's hard to believe the crimes aren't related."

Ivana looked around her nervously at the people on the plane. "So the murderer could be anyone.." she murmured.

Agent Bryant nodded, "He.. or she... could be any of the people here on this plane."

Ivana stuttered, "I do believe you're trying to frighten me, Mr. Bryant."

Agent Bryant chuckled quietly, "Perhaps I am."

-----

"Hurry up, I got one," Nick whined, "Hurry, hurrrrrryyyy -- Hurry! Or I'll forget it!"

"Dude, the object of the game is to try to think of more than you do," AJ answered. Nick bounced in his seat like a five year old trying not to go to the bathroom, causing the seat to squeak, just enough to get on AJ's nerves. "Jesus, calm the hell down."

"C'mooooooonnnn," Nick whimpered, "It took me forever to think of this one!"

AJ sighed, "Okay fine, fine. German chocolate. Happy now?" Nick's face registered blank. "What?" AJ asked, "What's wrong?"

"You took my idea!" Nick whined.

AJ laughed. "That's what you get for rushing me. And for thinking so loud."

"What?" Nick looked confused, "How does one THINK loudly?"

AJ shrugged, "I can read minds."

Nick's eyes widened, "Really???"

AJ rolled his eyes, "Nick... what the hell? Even if I COULD read minds, yours would just be a big messy, jumbled up cryptogram in a foreign language."

"Nickenese," he supported with a grin.

"Whatever," AJ answered. "So c'mon.. think of one."

Nick paused, scrunching up his face, "Uhhmmm... Oh I know! German shepherds! Like the dog with the cops."

AJ nodded, "Very impressive." He paused, "Okay ... Well, the German crime scene." He nodded, "We know that's real."

"Cheater," Nick hissed, rolling his eyes.

"Not any worse than when you said 'fruit cake'," AJ retorted.

"Nuh-uh, fruitcakes ARE German," Nick argued.

"They're Bavarian," AJ answered, "Like éclairs."

"…clairs?" Nick looked surprised, "Those are German?"

"No, they're Bavarian."

Nick paused a moment, "Is Bavaria in Germany?"

AJ raised an eyebrow, "No.. Bavaria is a country."

"Like North America?"

"No," AJ shook his head, "No, that's a continent."

"So where's Bavaria then?" Nick asked, scratching his head.

AJ sighed. "It's by Austria."

"Austria?" Nick paused, thinking, sifting the country name through his brain. "Austria... like... where the kangaroos and Vegemite are?"

"You're hopeless," AJ responded.

Nick exploded into sound, "What?? noo.. Is it? Serious? Dawg?"

AJ shook his head, "I'm not even answering you anymore."

"Fine then, I'll google it..." Nick flipped his cell phone open, clicking over to his web browser. "I'm soo gonna kick your ass." AJ looked out the window at the ground far below and sighed wistfully.

The Stewardess appeared at Nick's shoulder, "Can I get you boys anything?"

"Coffee," Nick responded, "I'm still waiting on my coffee."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she answered, "I'll go get it right now."

Nick turned to AJ, holding up his cell phone, "Bavaria’s the south most part of Germany and is the area where Munich is... It's IN Germany."

AJ looked over at Nick, surprised, "What?"

"Bavaria’s in Germany, not Austria."

"It's right next to Austria," AJ argued.

"But it's IN Germany, which means my fruitcake holds water."

"Barely," AJ stated.

A moment later, the stewardess returned with a cup of coffee for Nick. "Thanks," Nick took the cup in his hands excitedly, holding it, then sniffing it. "Oh sweet nectar of heaven," Nick whispered, inhaling deeply of the aroma that was wafting in the steam from the hot liquid inside.

AJ raised his eyebrows. "Are you gonna drink it or snort it?"

"Drink it," he answered. He took a big gulp, then spit, spraying coffee onto the floor of the aisle. "SHIT THAT'S HOT!" Several people turned to look at him, including the two agents. Nick blushed. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Ivana got up. "I need to use the ladies’ room," she stated, and moved past Agent Bryant. She paused at the Boys' seat. She smiled at them, "I'm glad you finally got your coffee, Nickolas..." she looked at AJ, smiled a bit more, then kept going down the aisle.

Nick looked at AJ. "Dude you're right, she is acting weird at you. I mean this morning she was all up mackin' on that guy in the hallway, that Jefferson or whatever his name was... and tonight she's all baby eyes are you. What's up with that chick?"

"I don't know," AJ answered. He glanced back in the way she went. He leaned closer, "You don't think she could be the---" But AJ didn't get a chance to finish his sentence. Nor did Nick get to take the sip he was about to take of his coffee. Because in that instant, loud and sharp, came a screech from the direction of the bathrooms, followed by two gun shots. AJ and Nick's eyes widened and they leaped to their feet and rushed down the aisle, only milliseconds ahead of Agent Bryant.

The stewardess backed out of the bathroom, her face pale and her eyes welling up with tears. She had a hand covering her mouth and she staggered against the wall behind her. When her back hit the wall, she fell to her knees, then to her bottom, gasping and shaking. Nick rushed past her and on into the bathroom as AJ stooped to make sure she was okay, taking hold of her hand, and rubbing it gently. Tears streamed down the poor woman's face as Agent Bryant ran by, following Nick. "It's okay," AJ told the stewardess as she clutched his hand tightly, shaking her head and squeaking back sobs.

Agent Bryant found himself face to face with a horrific scene when he stepped into the bathroom. It was a tiny little thing, like a double sized outhouse in a poor campground. Nick was wide eyed like a deer in headlights. Bryant took a deep breath to keep himself composed, then barked at Nick, "Go get a cloth from a stewardess. No, get two. Now." Nick bolted, glad to have an excuse to run like hell from the room. Bryant turned back to the scene and closed his eyes, before kneeling beside Ivana. "Agent Focque," he called her, his voice gentle, "Agent Focque." Her eyelids barely fluttered as the blood blossomed further into a crimson flower on her once crisp white shirt, right over her right left breast. Bryant took a deep breath and ran a hand along her chest, feeling for where the bullet might've penetrated, to see how dangerous the situation was. It was close, he decided. He glanced at the door. "Agent McLean," he shouted, "Call for a doctor, there must be one on board... Find one."

"Yes, okay," AJ called back without looking in. He got up, reassured the stewardess he'd be back and found another one, begging her to page for any doctor on flight to come to the latrine in first class.

Bryant felt Ivana's pulse, it was weak. He frowned, "Agent Focque, you are not going out on me now."

She opened her eyes a slight bit, "I didn't mean--" blood bubbled up, and she choked, coughing and sending blood to the floor in spatter marks from her mouth. Bryant swallowed hard, this was not good. He'd seen this before.

"Didn't mean what?" he asked carefully. He rested a hand behind Ivana's head, supporting her so the blood wouldn't pool in her throat and end up in her lungs or something. She began to cry, silently, but the tears came just the same. "Didn't mean what, Ivana?"

Nick arrived back in the room with a whole bowl full of damp cloths. "I took 'em all," he said, putting the bowl down next to Bryant.

Bryant took one of the cloths and rested it on Ivana's forehead, calming her, then slowly unbuttoned her blouse about halfway and laid one over the wound in her chest. "You should've been wearing your vest, Agent," he murmured.

"I- I didn't think I- that I needed to," Ivana struggled to get the words out. Her eyes started to flutter shut.

"No, don't sleep," Bryant snapped. He looked at the door. "Where the hell is McLean? Carter, go find a doctor, you seem to be more efficient." Nick rushed out again. Bryant turned to Ivana. "Agent, what didn't you mean?"

Ivana looked up at Bryant for a long pause, "I didn't mean for this to happen!" She began crying.

"For what to happen?" Agent Bryant asked, confused, "I know you didn't mean to get shot, nobody does, but--"

"The murders," Ivana sobbed, "I didn't mean for the murders to happen. He wasn't supposed to kill them."

Agent Bryant's heart began slamming in his chest. "Who? Who killed them, Ivana?"

"Jason's hit man," she cried, "He wasn't supposed to kill them, he was only supposed to make them stop..."

"Who hired him?" Bryant asked.

"Jason hired him," Ivana cried, "For me."

"Why?" he asked. She was shaking and her skin was growing cold. Bryant switched cloths on her chest.

Ivana's face crumpled, "Jason... Jason was trying- to - to- to protect me." Bryant stared into her eyes, which were becoming increasingly unfocused. "Vince -- Vince Lemming, he.. he was my exboyfriend. He hit me. And Marc.. Marc Brushill was his best friend. They- they both..." she shook, her breath coming out in gasps, "They hurt me," she explained, "Jason was- was trying- to -- to help me."

"What about Amanda, Lorriane and Eliza?" Bryant asked.

"Amanda saw him kill Marc," she gasped. "Eliza was Amanda's step- stepmother. She-- she was going to- to tell the authorities about it. And-- and Lorriane -- I don't- I don't know. I don't know," she was sobbing, "I can't.. I can't stop him. I've tried, I tried. Jason - Jason has no control."

Agent Bryant's blood felt like ice running through his veins. "What about the thing with Paris Hilton?"

"I- I--" Ivana coughed, choking again on blood. It fell from her mouth, leaving a crimson trail on her chin. Bryant swiped it softly with one of the cloths. "I did it. I did it because-- because I-- I was jealous."

"Jealous?" Bryant looked surprised. "Of what?"

"She was hit-hitting on AJ."

"...McLean?" Bryant asked.

Ivana struggled to nod. She closed her eyes, "Jason-- Jason sa- said.. said that- that the killer... He- he hacked Paris's computer. He erased the tapes, Bryant... he deleted everything off her hard drive. She can't help anymore. The tapes - the tapes were too clear. They had his face in them, he couldn't-- couldn't let us see them. He's professional, Bryant."

Suddenly a stout, balding man rushed into the room, followed by Nick and AJ. He was carrying a black case and was pulling a stethoscope out of it, blowing warm breath onto the cold metal piece. Bryant moved out of the way as the doctor got to work on Ivana. She looked up at Agent Bryant, "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm so sorry."

Nick was investigating. He'd taken it upon himself to be the one to figure out who had shot and killed Ivana Focque. He stood in the hallway between the bathrooms, and began to logically deduct where to look for suspects. First of all, he remembered, Ivana had passed himself and AJ while they were sitting in their seats. They'd then watched her walk away down the aisle, and there hadn't been anyone in first class that had followed her to the bathrooms. Therefore, Nick thought, the person was either waiting in the bathroom - which was illogical because, really, how would they know she was going to go to the bathroom? - or else they had walked forward from the next class back. Nick headed that way.

As Nick moved between the seats, scanning people's faces, they turned to him with desperate, nervous looks in their eyes. They seemed to silently beg him for answers to questions nobody dared put into words. One woman grabbed his wrist, stopping him. She clung to a small child, her eyes filled with unshed tears. "What happened?" she asked.

Nick smiled weakly, "It's nothing to be afraid of, ma'am... It'll be okay." He moved onward.

Suddenly a stewardess ran over to him, "Sir, we're making an emergency landing, if you could please take your seat, that would be great..."

Nick looked at her, "I'm an FBI agent... well, sorta." He pulled out his badge from his pocket and held it up for her to see it. "I need a list of the names of every passenger on this plane."

The stewardess looked at him, wide eyed, "Okay."

"Can you get me that?" Nick asked her.

"Yes, yes sir," she answered, "But you've got to go to your seat and I'll get it to you before you leave the plane."

"Thanks," Nick replied, heading back to the seats. On his way there, he ran into the doctor as he was folding his stethoscope and putting it into his bag. Nick paused to talk to him. "Hey, excuse me... You're the one that was with Agent Focque just now, right?" The doctor nodded. "Can you like save the bullets?" he asked.

The doctor looked surprised. "Save the bullets?"

"Yeah," Nick paused, "Here.." he reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, then drew a pen from over his ear to scribble down his cell phone number. "Call me here when you've got'em and I'll tell you where to send them. We'll need them for ballistics tests."

The doctor looked at the phone number on the paper, then looked up at Nick. "Aren't you a Backstreet Boy?"

Nick shook his head, "No... today I'm an FBI agent." With that, he brushed past the doctor and onwards to the seats. AJ was there, looking out the window at the ground as it slowly began coming up at him. He sighed and ignored Nick, even as he sat down. Nick glanced across the aisle and ahead to Agent Bryant, who was pale, stone-faced and sitting straight ahead. Nick bit his lips, and took a deep breath. At least he'd remembered to collect a little bit of evidence.

-----

Agent Bryant was the first one off the plane, followed by Nick and AJ. Bryant rushed on by the gate and into the men's room, leaving AJ and Nick alone in the waiting area. The stewardess had handed Nick the list of passengers on his way out the door of the plane. He tossed his carry on bag on the floor in front of him and dropped into a chair, watching as the other passengers flowed out of the gates. AJ stood, shifting his weight from foot to foot, a few feet away from Nick. Whoever the killer was, Nick decided, he wasn't going to be easy to spot. The crowd coming out of the gate were all unlikely suspects, people you wouldn't look think would commit a murder. Most of them looked scared and confused.

AJ sighed, "Nick, c'mon. We should go see if Bryant's okay."

"You go if you want to," Nick responded, not moving his eyes from the gates, "I gotta stay here."

"Why?" AJ asked, not particularly wanting to leave Nick alone. Clearly the Masquerade Murderer meant business... and God only knew what could happen given the situation at hand.

'I've got to find the killer," Nick replied, his voice sounding noble.

AJ paused, following Nick's gaze as the people poured forth from the plane. "Shit, Nick, you're a damn genius!" AJ cried. He stopped and cleared his throat, "I mean, sort of."

Nick raised an eyebrow, "Um, thanks, sort of.... Why am I a genius?"

"Because, obviously the killer's on the plane."

Nick nodded, "Um, yeah, duh. Am I the only one to have thought of that, seriously?"

AJ perked up, "You watch the gate, I'm gonna go get a passenger list."

Nick held up the folder. "I'm ahead of you again," he responded.

AJ blinked in surprise, reaching for the folder. "Damn you did think of everything." He looked it over carefully. "How are we going to narrow this down?"

Nick shrugged, "It should be somewhat easy. I mean, the men are the ones we gotta look at. Ivana said it was a man." He paused, taking mental photographs of each face he focused on. "Maybe we could cross check the names to narrow the list, run'em by some kind of scan, figure out who could be the one behind all this crap."

"How so?" AJ asked, confused by Nick's logic.

Nick explained, "Well, the one who killed Lorriane probably had a room at the Grand Hilton the night she was killed. And again, they probably had a room at the Hilton in Berlin."

"Good thinking," AJ said with a nod, impressed.

"Plus," Nick added, "The killer's probably from New York, or one of the states around it, or else they had a hotel there, too, when they killed the other people there."

AJ blinked in surprise. "Crap Nick, you really are a genius. When did you become so good at this detective shit anyways?"

Nick shrugged, "About an hour ago."

"Well," AJ hesitated, "You're damn good at it."

Nick smiled, "I'ma saaaaave the day."

-----

When the trio arrived in Berlin, Bryant hadn't wanted to talk about the case. He'd been unusually quiet and simply disappeared into his room, half-heartedly reminding the Boys that he'd see them in the morning when it was time to go to the crime scene. Nick had decided to wait until the ride over to tell Agent Bryant about his investigations on the plane. So that night in the hotel room, the two Boys pulled up an online white book and began running names to see if any of them came from New York City or the states around it. So far, half way through the list, they'd come up with nothing but negative results.

Nick sighed, "I thought for sure we'd have a name by tonight," he said, pausing between names. He looked discouraged.

AJ shrugged, "Maybe he's unlisted, or maybe Bryant has a better program to run this stuff with."

Nick sighed, "I dunno... I guess I'm not as good at this as you thought, huh?"

"Hey, don't say that," AJ shook his head, "This was a brilliant idea. Seriously."

Nick shook his head, "I can't do anything by myself without it failing." He looked at the keyboard sadly, "I wanted to impress you guys so bad, so you'd respect me more..."

AJ sighed, "Dude, we respect you."

"No you don't," Nick answered, shaking his head, "You guys are always teasing me or yelling at me or something, and you never let me do stuff alone anymore."

"Well you're fun to tease," AJ joked. Nick's eyes got sadder. "Dude, seriously, it's just in fun. You're like our little brother. It's practically a requirement that we tease you."

"I guess," Nick replied. He sighed, "I just want to be treated like an adult."

AJ hesitated, "Well... honestly, you don't really act like one."

Nick raised an eyebrow, "Well if I don't then technically none of us on the bus do. We're just real, though, we have fun. I mean being a grown up isn't about being uptight is it? It's about knowing right from wrong and being able to take care of oneself, about being responsible. Right? So what if someone goofs off if the important crap is there?"

AJ paused. "I guess you're right," he admitted. He sighed. "We just love you, Nick. You figure we met you when you were thirteen and... well, not much has changed since then in how we all interact." He looked at Nick with serious eyes. "Maybe sometimes we forget that you've gotten older over the years."

Nick looked back into AJ's eyes, "Maybe you should try to remember better."

AJ nodded, "Maybe we should."

Nick smiled, "Yeah... I'd like that."

-----

Agent Bryant lay wide-eyed in bed at 6am the following morning, staring up at the ceiling as he had been since he'd laid down the night before. He felt as though he were going crazy in a way he'd never felt before. Everything seemed completely out of control. 'I should've saved her,' he thought, 'I could've.' But could he have? He didn't know. He just knew that he felt extremely remorseful and guilty for not even being there to try. But then again they'd been on a plane, in the air, and she'd been going to the bathroom. How was he supposed to have known...? The truth was that there was nothing he could've done to prevent Agent Focque's death. But he still felt as though there was something, and he found himself questioning everything about his career because of it. 'I'm not very good as an agent if I can't even protect my co-workers,' he thought remorsefully, frowning at the darkness all around him.

A knock came on the door. Bryant didn't move. "Agent Bryant?" It was Nick.

'Poor kid,' thought Bryant, 'He thinks I'm a hero or something and really I'm a failure.'

"Agent Bryant???" Nick's voice insisted.

Bryant stayed still. Maybe if he didn't move, Nick would go away. If Nick went home right now, there was no chance of him being killed, too, Bryant thought, and clearly he wasn't able to save the lives of anyone... he didn't want what happened to Ivana Focque to happen to Nick and AJ. He waited until he heard the two Boys walk away from the door before he allowed himself to breathe and reposition himself on the bed. All he wanted was for the world to stop spinning around him.

-----

"He must've already left for the crime scene," Nick sighed as the Boys walked away from the door. "Dawg, AJ, I told you that you were talking too damn long in that shower."

AJ shook his head, "Oh hell no, dude it's only 6am, if he left already it's because he's the man who never sleeps... or else he was super impatient."

Nick pointed at the door," Well he's not here."

AJ shrugged, "So we'll go meet him at the Hilton then."

"Do you think that's a good idea?" Nick asked, hesitating, "I mean with everything going on?"

"Well what do you want to do? Stay here?" AJ asked, rolling his eyes, "Nick, he's obviously gone to the crime scene. Plus if we head over there, maybe the front desk girl will cross check the names for us," he suggested. "Then Bryant'll be that much happier to see us."

"I dunno," Nick answered, reluctant. Something familiar was bubbling up in his chest as he pondered over the idea. If he'd thought about it more, maybe he would have realized that the feeling was the same one he'd gotten when he'd snuck off at the Gopher's suggestion to get McDonald's french fries... maybe he'd have realized it was a feeling he frequently got just before bad things happen: that magic feeling of foreboding. That dreaded feeling you always recall having felt once something goes wrong. Maybe if he'd noticed that, he wouldn't have agreed. Or at least have been prepared for something to go wrong. But, as it was... "Yeah, okay, you're right... Let's go."

And so begins the action.

Nick and AJ took a cab to the Berlin Hilton, expecting to find Agent Bryant there, waiting for them quite impatiently. "He's gonna be pissed," Nick commented as the Boys climbed out of the cab. AJ tossed the driver the fare and they turned to look at the hotel. "He's gonna be sooo pissed," Nick repeated.

AJ shrugged, "If he's pissed he should shut the hell up 'cos it's not like he tried really hard to get us going before he left..." he pointed out.

"Yeah, true, I guess," Nick answered.

The two Boys stepped forward to find that the hotel's doorway was one of those rotating doors. A smile spread across Nick's face, "Aw crap I love these things..." He walked quickly through it, coming all the way back around and out, beaming at AJ as he did. "It's so much fun..." he turned and repeated the spin around the door. AJ raised his eyebrow. "No dude, you should try it," Nick argued, sensing AJ's skepticism. "For SERIOUS."

AJ shook his head, "Jesus are you ever a pain in my ass, Carter... C'mon let's go in and find Agent Bryant before I have to kill you." He pushed his way into the lobby through the door, acutely aware of Nick trying to follow him and getting hung up in the door clumsily.

"Crap!" Nick fell out of the door, nearly spilling to the floor, but caught himself just in tme. AJ rolled his eyes. Nick stuck out his tongue, and went to say something, when his eyes caught sight of the complimentary coffee steins on a counter by the elevators. "Coffee!" he whimpered, then bulleted forward like he was shot out from a cannon towards them.

AJ sighed and watched as Nick bee lined for the java and mumbled, "No, no problem, Nick, don't worry about it. I'll take care of everything while you pursue coffee... I don't need help. Help is overrated, anyways..." He made his way over to the desk and leaned against it. "Yo," he greeted the desk woman. She looked up at him, blinking unexpectedly.

She smiled, "Hallo, welcome to das Hilton en Berlin," she greeted him, her accent thick, but English mostly clear.

"Thanks," AJ answered, then barreled on. "Look, my name's Agent McLean and I'm here with the FBI, trying to clear up the case concerning your pent house and the recent -- uh..." he paused, "...troubles. I'm --- WE," he glanced at Nick who was poking at one of the steins repeatedly, frustrated looking, "-- are supposed to meet up with our coworker, Agent Bryant. Is he here just yet?"

"I don't know," she responded, "Let me find out." She turned away, and AJ waited.

"Shit!!!" Nick cried suddenly. AJ glanced over at him, half expecting the sight of blood or something, but only saw Nick standing there before the coffee steins frowning. He raised an eyebrow and Nick looked over his shoulder at AJ and sighed, "They don't got no more of the caffeinated coffee," he whined, "Only the decaf!"

"So drink decaf," AJ replied automatedly. It's just as well, he thought silently, the last thing on earth Nick needed was more caffeine anyways. With a sigh of resignation, Nick set to work mixing together various concoctions of coffee, creamer and sugar. AJ turned back to the desk just as the girl returned. He smiled, "Hey again."

She looked up at him. "I'm sorry, Mr. McLean, but Mr. Bryant is not here at the time being." She paused. "Would you like me to have the bell hop escort you and your -- uh -- partner... to the pent house?"

AJ groaned. Well, they were here, he figured, so why not. Though it would've been easier with Bryant there.... "Yeah sure," AJ answered. He turned towards Nick as the girl radioed over a bellhop. "Dude... Nick, c'mon." Nick glanced at the coffee and popped a lid onto it, rushing over to AJ, leaving a huge mess on the counter -- spilled sugar and cream, papers, and those little plastic cups that creamer comes in....

The girl behind the counter glared at Nick, but waved a lurking bellhop over to the desk. "Show these two ... agents ... up to the penthouse suite," she directed, handing him the elevator key. "They're a part of the FBI team that was coming in to investigate the murder case up there," she added.

The bellhop nodded. "Right this way, sirs," he said, leading the way towards an elevator on the wall beside the desk. The Boys followed him, Nick clinging to his decaf coffee like it was gold. Tainted gold, sure, but gold none the less. He sipped and peered over the cap at the bellhop as he opened the elevator door and they all clambered onto the car. The guys eyes were piercing, unnaturally blue, and Nick couldn't help but focus on them. Colored contacts had always fascinated him in the same way that piercing on the face did, not in the sense that he didn't like the way it looked, but more like he just couldn't take his eyes off it. Other than the crazy blue eyes, though, he felt as though he'd seen this guy before, he just wasn't sure where or when or how. He wondered if he was one of the guys coming off the plane in the airport, but didn't feel any connection to that menagerie of faces and this guy. He tried to think of where else he might've seen him, but the eyes were just so damn distracting, he couldn't place a name or location to the face.

They reached the penthouse and AJ stood clueless and awkward at the doorway while Nick sauntered past him, having given up staring at the bellhop. AJ watched as Nick meandered about the suite, looking around and holding his coffee in his hands. Nick knelt down beside the chalked outline of the victim on the floor and touched the carpet gently. He frowned, and felt sick to his stomach. Now that Ivana Focque had died, death was very suddenly very, very realistic to Nick, and not a far away concept as it had been. He stood up and shuddered away from the spot, turning to look at AJ. "Where's Bryant?"

"Oh... didn't I tell you?" AJ asked, "He isn't here."

Nick's eyes lit up and he glanced nervously at the bellhop. "What do you mean he isn't here?" he asked, his mouth and throat drying up instantaneously, "Where the hell is he?" Nick hissed, "He could be fucking anywhere."

AJ shrugged, "I don't know. I don't care."

Nick paused, shook his head and leaned closer to AJ, "No dude, you don't get it..." he hesitated, feeling the bellhop's eyes on them, then worded what he meant very delicately. "We don't really know what we're doing here..." he licked his lips, "What if... what if we needed Bryant's help?"

AJ paused, understanding Nick, but not quite knowing why he had the suspicion. "Call Bryant with your cell, dude," he suggested.

Nick whipped his cell phone out of his pocket, "I dunno why I didn't think of that," he answered, "I hope Bryant answers." Nick kept his eyes on the bellhop as he dialed Bryant's cell number and put the phone to his ear, waiting for it to ring. He didn't know why the guy looked familiar to him, but he found it very, very, very unnerving.

-----

Agent Bryant awoke with a jolt. He'd had a terrible nightmare, he was sure of it. He sat up and reached for the cell phone, which he'd left on the bedside table the night before, only to find himself scrambling aimlessly for something that wasn't there. He felt a cold surge go through his veins and he hopped up, stumbling through the dark to the desk where the room phone sat. He picked up the receiver in a daze, and fumbled for the lobby button to call the front desk. He cradled the phone in his shoulder, and ran a hand over his eyes as his other hand turned on the lamp. "Let it be a nightmare," he pleaded as the phone rang in his ear and he waited for someone to pick it up.

"Front desk," the voice was cheerful.

"I need to be connected to Ivana Focque's room, please," Bryant said.

"One moment." The voice was replaced by an instrumental of some song that Bryant was sure he recognized. He scratched his head and pondered on it, humming along with it, until he recognized it. It was a Backstreet Boys' song - I Want it that Way, actually. He chuckled quietly to himself, sure that any moment Ivana was going to pick up and all his problems would be solved. The phone picked up. "Hello, sir? I'm sorry, but there is no Ivana Focque checked in at this hotel."

"Oh." Bryant had for but a moment allowed himself to believe that everything that had happened on the plane really had been an awful nightmare and that things were actually okay. He wasn't a bad agent, he didn't have a fallen officer on his little squad of four, he hadn't failed, and everything was fine. He'd envisioned getting up, getting dressed, cussing at the two Boys to get moving and heading out with them and Ivana over to the Hilton here in Berlin to investigate the crime scene... but now, well, everything came rushing back to him. "Thanks," he said sullenly and placed the phone back into it's cradle before dropping back limply into the chair behind him and taking a deep, shaking breath.

This is when he heard his cell phone ring.

Bryant turned to look for it and when he did, he saw it all right... he also saw the man dressed in a Hilton employee uniform with a mask of Casper the Friendly Ghost covering his head... and in his hand laid Bryant's cell phone. "Who -- who are you?" Bryant asked, leaping up from the chair. He realized after he'd spit out the words what a stupid question that was. Obviously, this was the Masquerade Murderer, who he'd been searching for.. come as close as right in this very room with him. Bryant was very suddenly quite aware that his gun was in it's holster in the drawer next to the bed. And also very aware of his own attire of boxer shorts and a tank top. He swallowed hard.

"Don't you know me, Mr. Bryant?" hissed Casper, "You've been looking everywhere for me, making this very, very hard for me..."

Bryant tried to think of something, anything, he could do to reverse this situation and apprehend his man, but he knew he couldn't, and he felt a sinking feeling in his chest take over him. He was failing, again, and ultimately. He dropped back into the desk chair and looked at the carpet, surrendering in a sorts. The Masquerade Murderer moved closer, around the bed, and opened the drawer, pulling Agent Bryant's own gun out of it's holster. He smirked. "Now, Mr. Bryant, you're going to get dressed, and we're going to go on a little trip."

Bryant's phone continued to ring.

Bryant nodded, standing up and walking to the closet. He pulled out some pants and a shirt and began pulling them on over what he was already wearing. The Masquerade Murderer smiled. "You won't be needing this again..." and with that, he closed his hand around the cell phone, and crumbled it with the strength of his bare hands.

Nick looked at his cell phone as Agent Bryant's outgoing voicemail message played, and he sighed. "He's not answering the cell," he declared to AJ.

AJ frowned, "That's weird..."

"No kidding," Nick paused. The beeeep filled his ear. "Hey Bryant, it's Nick... er, AJ and I were trying to find you, dawg... We're at the Hilton... yanno, here in Berlin, at the crime scene? Anyways, we were wondering where you're at.. So call me back when you hear this, aii'ght? Aii'ght. Later, man." He hung up. He looked at AJ. "Now what?"

AJ shrugged. "Maybe try calling the hotel room."

Nick shrugged back, "Yeah, I guess. If nothing else I can leave a message there, too."

"Right," AJ replied. Nick nodded and opened the phone again, looking through his contacts for the hotel's phone number. AJ looked around, wandering a bit beyond Nick and further into the room they were currently 'investigating'. He could feel the bell hop's eyes following his motions and he glanced uneasily at the guy. Like Nick, AJ thought he looked familiar, but he couldn't quite figure out where he'd seen him before. He did look creepy, though.

Riiiiiiiiiiing!
Riiiiiiiiiiing!

Nick shuffled his feet. "I dunno dude, I don't think he's there," Nick mumbled to AJ.

AJ turned to look at Nick, "Well he's got to be somewhere, I mean he wouldn't just --" But Nick held up his hand. AJ watched Nick's face, which had at first lit up but then sort of clouded over, then paled, and his eyes widened. Nick's jaw dropped and he seemed to choke on his own breath. "What?" AJ asked, barely able to keep from yanking the phone from Nick's hands, "What is it? What's wrong?"

But Nick couldn't even bring himself to speak. He just slammed the phone shut.

-----

Bryant had resigned to defeat before he'd even tried to fight. He may as well be killed in action, he thought remorsefully to himself as he readied himself to go wherever the Masquerade Murderer was bringing him now. He was already a failure anyways so why not?

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing!
Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiing!

Bryant perked up just a little bit, glancing at the phone. Maybe it was the front desk, calling to tell him that they'd made a mistake, that Ivana Focque was indeed staying at the hotel, that he wasn't as big of a failure as he thought. The murderer, still wearing his Casper mask, grunted and made his way to the phone on the desk, keeping Bryant's own gun turned on him.

"Jason," the murderer said, having expected a call from his partner in crime. He was surprised when nobody responded, only breathing filled the phone line. "Hello?" He paused. "Jesus, Jason, what the fuck, you're already late calling me, now don't screw around with me on top of it or you'll be next, you pointless piece of shit..." he paused, "Did you take out the two Backstreet Boys yet or are you leaving me with all the shit-work? I mean isn't it enough that I've got to take this Agent out to the place and take care of him without having to take out his whole damn team?" He listened, and heard a muffled voice on the other end. "Jason?"

Click. The line went dead.

The Masquerade Murderer slammed the phone down, his heart racing and the adrenaline spilled into his veins. Suddenly it occurred to him that the caller very well may not have been Jason at all. He turned to Bryant. "Hurry it up, Agent, I want to get out of here." He watched as Bryant kicked on a pair of tennis shoes. He grabbed his FBI badge. "What the hell do you need that for?" the murderer sneered, swatting at Bryant's hand with the gun's barrel, "Not like you'll be using it again..."

"I always keep it on me," Bryant responded automatically.

The murderer nudged him towards the door, "Come on now. And no funny shit, either, you hear?" he directed Bryant into the hallway. "Don't think you'd be the only one going down, either, thinking you'd be a martyr or nothing. You'd just be the first of whoever was within reach of this thing's fire." Bryant nodded obediently. "Okay, that said, let's go."

-----

Nick's breathing became shallow and he felt light headed and sick to his stomach. Rushing past AJ, he stumbled around the hotel room until he found the bathroom door and let himself in, not at all thinking about the idea that he was basically trapping himself for the bellhop, who now he knew he'd recognized from the hallway with Ivana in London, the "other man" whose name was Jason, but he'd called John and Jim or whatever name he'd thought of to call the guy at the time. AJ had tried to follow him, but Nick slammed the door behind him, keeping AJ out. He paced in tight circles in the bathroom, snapping his fingers, which was his variation to hand-wringing. He tilted his head back, taking deep breaths and trying to regain his composure. He had to figure out what to do, how to handle the situation, and how to get the hell out of the hotel room without getting hurt, or worse, and get to Bryant to save the day... all at once, and all in a very, very short amount of time. Like five, ten minutes ago would be good.

He leaned against the bathroom sink, turned on the water and splashed his face. The cold snapped him to attention and he looked into the mirror in front of him. "Okay Carter," he whispered, looking into his own eyes, "You wanna save the day? Here's your chance." He nodded to himself, a plan half formulated. He planted his face into one of the plush towels hanging on the towel rack behind him and dried his face before taking one last deep breath and stepping out of the bathroom.

AJ was still standing outside the bathroom door, a nervous look on his face. "Are you okay? Jesus, what happened?"

Nick pulled AJ closer, "I need you to help me out a second, okay?"

AJ's eyebrows cinched together. "Nick, what the hell is going on?"

"Just work with me, okay?"

AJ hesitated. Nick could be planning anything, how was he supposed to know what to do and say to help him? "Okay..." he was reluctant, but Nick didn't care. It was close enough to enthusiasm for him.

Nick rounded the corner into the living room of the hotel room and smiled at Jason, the supposed Hilton bellhop, who nodded and continued standing in his post of the doorway. Nick began poking around the crime scene absently, as though he were looking for something. AJ poked along side him. Nick turned to AJ, "Bryant will know more of what to do with this evidence when he gets here," he said casually, "And there is a ton of it here, too." He poked at a cock-eyed lamp and glanced at the window, which was broken to allow for easy escape out the fire escape.

AJ looked genuinely surprised. "So you did get a hold of Bryant then?"

The bellhop's attention peaked. He furrowed his brow, listening in. Nick felt bad lying, but prying ears... "Yeah, he's gonna be here in like ten minutes."

"The way you ran off like that, I thought something bad was going on," AJ responded.

Nick felt like kicking him, but refrained. "No." He paused, trying to think of his excuse for the bathroom run. He touched his stomach, "The decaf coffee was a bad idea," he said in a remorseful tone. AJ rolled his eyes. "What?" Nick asked, "Decaf ain't nothing like caffeinated coffee..." he wandered towards the door of the hotel room, ran a finger absently over the frame, touched the lock ever so gently, then looked the bellhop straight in the eyes. "Isn't that right, Jason?"

"I suppose," he replied, then stopped, horrified he'd just answered so easily to his real name, and feeling his face burn with anger.

AJ's eyes widened, "Jason? The dude in the hallway with Ivana Jason?"

Nick grabbed Jason's shirt collar behind his neck, "One and the same." He pulled the guy inside and kicked the room door closed behind him as he roughly pulled the younger guy inside and slammed him against the wall, hard. "What the fuck are you doing?" he shouted into the guy's face. Jason's eyes widened, and so did AJ's. Nick's intensity was shocking. "Who are you, really, and who is the Masquerade Murderer?"

Jason wriggled to get away from Nick, but Nick slammed the guy into the wall a second time, making his head bang against it pretty hard. "Fuck off," Jason hissed. Nick repeated the slamming motion twice more.

"I said, WHO ARE YOU and WHO IS THE MASQUERADE MURDERER?" Nick snarled into the guy's face, "And where is he taking Agent Bryant?"

"I don't know shit about any of this," Jason responded.

"The hell you don't," Nick replied, glaring at him. "I happen to know for a fact that you're here to get rid of AJ and I. And you were supposed to call your little friend there on the phone at Agent Bryant's hotel room. That's really not knowing something is it, dumbass?" Nick rolled his eyes, "Don't fuck with me, dude. Who the hell are you?"

AJ watched Nick hold his own and bit his lip. Little Nickolas really had grown up, he realized, and he was a tough guy, just like in the movies they watched on the bus sometimes together. He was a regular double-oh-seven the way he was acting, not all that much like the blonde that he and the fellas had always assumed he'd be in this sort of moment.

"You know who I am," Jason snapped.

"Who is the murderer?" Nick asked pointedly.

Jason glared. "I don't know his name, what the hell do you think this is? Fun and games? It's not. I don't know his real name. All I know is I paid the guy to kill off a couple people once back in New York for Ivana Focque and it backfired. He became a monster. Ivana transferred to work on the case and just for that purpose. He wasn't supposed to kill all these people, and he wasn't supposed to kill Ivana." He looked away.

"Where is he taking Agent Bryant?" Nick growled.

"I don't know," Jason replied in a barking tone.

Nick smashed him into the wall again, "TELL ME."

"I DON'T KNOW," Jason shouted, leaning close, "I DON'T FUCKING KNOW!!!!!!!"

Before AJ or Nick really knew what he'd done, Nick punched Jason square in the face and he dropped like a rag doll, with a bloodied nose. AJ's breath caught in his throat and he looked up at Nick. "Jesus, Carter."

Nick looked down at Jason. "Well, that ought to keep him cooperative, at least."

"At least," AJ replied. He looked at Nick. "Now what? I thought you said Bryant was coming?"

Nick shook his head, "I was killing time 'til I could get over to this guy." He paused. "Call the cops."

AJ nodded and pulled his phone out. "Wait, what about Bryant? If he's not coming, where is he?"

"He's at the hotel," Nick replied, "For now. The Masquerade Murderer said he had to take him out to 'the place'..." he paused, looking down at Jason. "I don't dare to leave him alone, but... if we don't hurry, we could be late for Bryant." Nick looked at AJ meaningfully.

AJ paused, looking Nick over, then said words he was sure Brian would freaking kill him for saying. "Go, Nick."

"What?" Nick looked at AJ in hesitant disbelief. "Go?"

"Yeah," AJ nodded, "Go. I'll wait for the cops to come get this guy... you go. Go save the day."

"You sure?" Nick asked.

"Yes," AJ answered, "I'm sure." He paused. "Stop at our rooms at the hotel and get the gear Bryant gave us... your vest saved your life last time, don't forget."

Nick nodded, "I will."

"Good." AJ nodded.

Nick paused awkwardly. "Thanks, AJ... for lettin' me do this."

AJ sighed, "Brian would have my fucking head examined and... well, I might too if I was thinking straight. But you definitely held up yourself with this shmuck..." AJ glanced at Jason. "And.. Bryant needs you. So go."

Nick nodded, "I can do it... I'm gonna do it..." he smiled, "I'ma saaaaaaaaaaaave the day!"

AJ laughed, "GO you freaking knuckle-head."

Nick had never run so fast in his life, he was sure of it. His legs were sure of it, too. He could feel his calves burning and his feet screaming as they hit the pavement with intense velocity, carrying him through the streets. He had rushed to the curb after AJ's bidding to go, and found that there were no cabs out there. He'd waited only a moment, and became inpatient and exploded forward in a burst of energy unlike anything that he'd ever experienced. Adrenaline, he guessed. He'd originally only planned to run until he saw a cab, but after he breezed by several that were stuck in gridlocked traffic, he'd thought better of it, and decided to continue on foot as fast as he could.

He rounded the corner and the hotel came into view, and that made him speed up even harder. So fast, in fact, that he didn't even pause as he ran into the parking lot of the hotel....without looking....just as a car came careening around the corner of the hotel.

HOOOOONNNNNNNNK!!!!!!!!!

Before Nick even knew what was happening, he was struck in the side and he felt an almost weightless feeling come over himself as his body rolled across the hood, windshield and roof of the car before flying off the trunk and landing on the cement parking lot behind it.

About a million things went through Nick's head in that moment after he hit the pavement. First, he thought that he felt broken. For such a fall, he was sure he must be, but he couldn't quite feel where he could be as he wiggled all his limbs slightly. He groaned and rubbed his head as pictures bubbled up into his mind, like a crazy photo album he hadn't looked at in awhile. He thought about his Mother of all people, and about Brian and the fellas and the first time their single got played. A few fans faces popped up in his mind, and the plane from the Around the World in 100 Hours tour they'd done in 2000. He thought of Aaron, and the time Aaron had fallen into a swimming pool in the backyard of their house in California when they were all kids. He thought of his grandparents and his Grampa Doug going fishing and his horror that Grampa D would kill a fish... he thought of Layla and his guinea pig, turtle, thirteen goldfish and lizard back home. Then he realized what he was doing. 'Oh my God,' he thought, 'Is this my life flashing before my eyes? or did I forget to take my ADHD medication today?'

He didn't really have enough time to ponder it, though, before he heard Bryant's muffled voice. "NICK!!!!!!!" Nick looked up at the car. Bryant's face and hands were plastered to the back window. "NICK!" He struggled to his elbows, as the car, a hatchback midnight blue VW Golf, license plate XLM86411A, stopped at the exit of the parking lot.

"BRYANT!!" Nick shouted, shocked. He saw a panic in Bryant's eyes and knew Agent Bryant wasn't in that car by choice. "I'M COMING BRYANT!!!" He winced as he got up, aware that his knee was extremely sore, and attempted to run towards the car, all thoughts of going inside to get the stuff as AJ had commanded flying out of Nick's mind. He lurched forward, intending to run after the VW as it pulled out into the gridlocked traffic, but only made it three steps before his legs gave out on him. He stumbled forward, hit the pavement again, and scraped up his hands pretty good. "Fucking ow!" he shouted, as pain shot up and down his leg in every which way as his knee cap hit the cement. He grabbed his knee, rolled to one side, and sucked in his breath. "Fuckin' A..." he moaned. He watched as the car sat in traffic, Bryant now watching out the side window.

Nick struggled up to his feet again, deciding not to run this time, and favored his right side as he limped to a cab that was waiting by the door of the hotel. "I need a ride," he yelled as he climbed into the car. The driver looked back at him. Nick pointed, "Follow that VW."

"The one that just hit you?" the driver asked in surprise, "Man, maybe we should call the cops or somethin' instead."

Nick whipped out his badge, "I AM the cops in this situation. FOLLOW HIM."

So the year before, Nick had rode in the car with Agent Bryant to a taping of Good Morning America through downtown New York when they were running late, and he'd sworn at the time that Bryant was the craziest driver he'd ever ridden in the car with or ever would. However, he hadn't met this cabbie yet when that happened. And that belief... well, it was about to change.

The traffic was stand still on the street the hotel was on, worse than New York City. See, in NYC, unless there was a traffic accident the cars pretty much moved, at least... however, this was literally bumper to bumper and moving about an inch every fifteen minutes or so. Nick shuffled impatiently in the backseat, clutching the headrest in front of him with nerves, gnawing on his lower lip. The VW was only six car lengths ahead, and easy to spot, despite the over abundance of VWs in the traffic. Nick was literally on the edge of his seat. He kept having to restrain himself from leaping out and running up to the car right there in the middle of Berlin city traffic.

"So... you gonna arrest the guy for running you down?" the driver asked curiously.

"No, not for running me down," Nick answered. He paused, "Well, yeah that too, but mostly because he's wanted for kidnapping and like seven counts of murder and stuff."

The driver's eyes widened, "Wait, what sort of 'gent are we following here?"

"The bad sort," Nick replied.

"SHIT this is like an action movie!!" shouted the cabbie excitedly.

Suddenly, the blue VW slammed on the gas, broke out from the traffic and onto the sidewalk. Pedestrians were leaping out of the way, and before he could comprehend what they'd done, the VW turned down an alley way that was so skinny the tiny car barely fit through. Nick's jaw dropped, "NO! Shit!!" he leaned over the seat. "WHERE'S THAT COME OUT?" he cried into the cabbie's ear, pointing at the alleyway.

"I don't know," the cabbie replied, "Let's find out, shall we?" he grinned wickedly. Before Nick could ask what he meant, he blasted his own gas pedal down and the car shot out of the traffic jam, also onto the sidewalk, and with a jerk of the steering wheel, the cabbie recklessly veered towards the mouth of the alley.

"Fuck dude you ain't gonna fit in here!" Nick wailed in shock.

Instead of stopping, or slowing down, or anything, the cabbie crowed with delight, like a big psychotic rooster. "WOOOOOOOT WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Nick's eyes widened as the cab honked his horn and the car hit the two buildings, knocking the side mirrors off with a blast of sparks and the car shot through the alley, catching up quickly to the VW, screeching like fingernails on a chalkboard the entire way through. The car shuddered all the way to the other end and Nick covered his eyes.

"Jesus Christ dude are you fucking insane?" Nick shouted. The car popped out the other side of the alley, onto an empty side road, following the VW closely now. Nick felt like his limbs had turned to jelly. He was shaking uncontrollably.

"Eh-- Insurance will pay for it," the cabbie replied, "I always wanted to be involved in a high speed chase."

The blue VW turned a corner sharply and suddenly, tires squealing and tires lifting up off the pavement. Nick ducked down as the cabbie followed recklessly. Several car horns blared as the yellow cab flew in their path following the blue VW. They swerved as the two traffic violators plowed forward without slowing. The cabbie threw his entire body into willing the car to turn, and Nick could feel they were two wheeling the corner. He felt his stomach flying around inside him and squeezed his eyes as tight as he possibly could, so tight he was seeing little rainbow confetti sparks behind his eyelids.

When the car settled back down on it's axis and stayed that way a few moments, Nick dared to peek over the edge of the front seat cautiously.

"God this is great!" shouted the cab driver, pulling onto a highway ramp, "Fantastic! Brilliant!!" He glanced at Nick. "Hey, you okay kiddo?"

"I'm gonna puke," Nick murmured.

"Well... don't look down then," the cabbie answered as he merged into the highway traffic and the car sped up...faster and faster and faster and faster...

Nick watched the speedometer, feeling his stomach lurch. "DUDE! What the hell're you thinking?!!" he cried as the needle approached, then passed 100mph.

The cabbie chuckled, "Welcome to the Autobahn my friend."

"Shit," Nick ducked back down behind the seat, covering his face with his hands, unable to watch certain doom fly into his face like this. He wasn't sure how long he was ducked down, but it'd been quite awhile before he was able to rip himself away from his mantra of 'everything's fine, everything's okay' that he had going back there... and that was only because the car slowed down... paused... then stopped and the cabbie mumbled.

"Shit."

Nick sat up. "What? What's wrong?" He looked around himself. They were in a fielded area, surrounded by dirt roads and quaint looking little farms.

"I can't see through all this dust."

Nick looked out the front window. They'd pulled onto a very narrow dirt road, embanked on either side by deep, marshy bogs. There was barely enough room for one car to drive. He looked at the driver and hoped he could drive a straight line otherwise they'd end up in that swampy murk. "Just follow the dust," Nick suggested.

"I am," the cabbie replied, "but I can't see for shit what's going on up there."

"Hurry," Nick pleaded.

Suddenly, in the settling dust, barely visible, was the VW. Stopped. The cabbie slammed his brakes on. The brakes screeched, sending Nick slamming into the seat and the cabbie into the wheel as the car swung about in a 360* like cop cars in the movies. Nick yelled, the cabbie crowed psychotically excited, and the car flew forward, before finally coming to a stop..a mere breath between it and the VW's back bumper, and somehow still on the road. Nick sat petrified a moment, as did the cabbie, as the dust settled on the windshield and hood of the car, both their jaws dropped, eyes opened wide and staring forward out the window. Nick couldn't feel anything at all in his entire body, all the sensation was gone, he could barely recall how to breathe, he felt like everything in him was made of chocolate pudding.

"THAT WAS SUH WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET!" shouted the cabbie.

Nick looked at the guy, "You're really seriously,.. you're.. you.." Nick couldn't even come up with words for how deranged the guy was for enjoying that. He struggled to push open the door, his muscles felt all weak and weird like how he imagined Gumby feeling. He made a mental note to never, ever, ever take a cab with this guy driving ever again no matter what the situation. If Bryant had been in the car through all that, he thought, he'd have agreed, too, and totally understood. Nick's knee shot pain up his leg when he stepped out of the car, but he ignored it, gritting his teeth and stumbled around it to the front of the VW. He squinted into the distance.

"Looks like the ride ends here," the cabbie announced, climbing out as well. The guy patted his car. "Bessie, ya done good."

Nick wasn't quite sure how to handle the idea that a guy who drove like THAT had named his car Bessie. He reached for his wallet. "What do I owe you?" he asked.

"You kiddin'?" the cabbie asked, laughing, "You don't owe me a damn thing. That was the finest bit of drivin' I've ever done and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Hope you kick your killer's ass, by the way."

"Thanks," Nick said, putting the wallet away. He hadn't really wanted to pay for the near death experience anyways.

"No, no, thank YOU," the cabbie answered.

Nick wandered away, leaving the guy there to figure out what to do with himself, and limped in the direction the road was going. Suddenly, he noticed something shining in the sand and he hurried as best he could and knelt down beside it. There, laying in the dirt, was Agent Bryant's FBI badge. He picked it up. Bryant never went anywhere without it. That meant that this was purposely dropped to show him he was going the right way. He looked up in the distance, and that’s' when he spotted it... a clear track dug in the sand by a dragging shoe. Agent Bryant was helping Nick... Hansel and Gretel style. He was genius. Nick stood up and began hobbling along, following the track.

-----

Agent Bryant walked along, gagged into silence, and prodded along by his own gun. He frowned. Behind him, the Masquerade Murderer chuckled. "I guess your little badge came in handy after all, 'ey?" he teased. "Leading your right hand man right where I want him..." he continued on, dragging one foot in the sand as they walked, leaving behind the trail Nick was now following. Far off in the distance, they could see Nick limping along behind them, trying to catch up. "We're almost there," the murderer stated, "Nick's going to be in for a little surprise when he catches up, huh?" he smirked evilly, "I'll make sure he's given a nice reception though."

The Masquerade Murderer shoved Bryant down into a mound of hay in the corner inside of a horse's stall and crouched down by the crack in the door, peering out at the entrance to the barn. He began playing with Bryant's gun, pulling the battery pack out and inspecting it. He looked it all over, then replaced it and put the gun down. He reached under his jacket and pulled out a sleek silver gun from a pocket sewn on the inside. Bryant recognized the gun immediately as one in the classification that the ballistics tests had suggested the weapon would be in and he felt his blood run chilled. The murderer leveled the gun, looking through the cross hair at the door. He smiled. "Surprise..." he murmured.

-----

Nick was struggling to keep moving. He'd seen the murderer drag Bryant into the large barn up ahead. His knee shot pain through his body as he walked, but he refused to give up. He knew Bryant was up ahead, counting on him, and he wasn't going to back down and let down a friend in need. He reached the barn staggering and laid a hand tiredly against the closed door of the barn, leaning a moment and trying to catch his breath. He reached down and rubbed his knee cap and took deep breaths, refocusing on his mission.

He pushed the doors opened and stepped inside.... Nick didn't know it, but he was in the cross hair of the Masquerade Murderer's gun. The Masquerade Murderer pulled the trigger, sending the bullet through the air. Nick stepped forward, and as he did, his knee gave out and he fell to the floor... just as the bullet flew past him and through the open door behind him. When he hit the floor, Nick realized he'd heard the gun shot and as his body landed, he held very still, wincing silently instead of shouting out in pain. Nick wanted to chuckle when he realized that having fallen face first had saved his life... so inadvertently, the Masquerade Murderer had saved Nick's life by running him over.

Nick lay still, unsure what to do next, and a bit paralyzed by the pain coursing through his body. His mind spun through various options he did or didn't have and he was just about to look to see what the situation around him was when he heard a latch click and a rusty hinge ease open. He stayed even more still, nearly holding his breath. He heard heavy footsteps treading over the creaky wooden floors, coming closer and closer to him. Very heavy footsteps. They were nearing slowly, tentatively, unsure. Nick could hear his heart slamming in his chest, and prayed that the murderer couldn't hear it, too. It was so loud, that he was certain he could...

The murderer arrived at Nick's side and reached down with the barrel of his gun. Nick could feel the cold steel against his back, nudging him, working it's way up his spine to his neck, where it stayed a moment, tapped him and then withdrew. He became painfully aware of his lack of bullet proof vest, which had saved his life the last time he'd been faced with a gun. He also realized that if the Masquerade Murderer flipped him over in his inspection of him that he would find that Nick wasn't bleeding, and would know Nick had not been hit by the bullet he'd fired. Nick was so scared, he had to tighten every muscle in his entire body to keep from trembling beneath the killer's watchful, examining eyes.

At that moment the barn doors burst opened. The Masquerade Murderer looked up from his examination of Nick in surprise. "What the hell are you doing here?" Every nerve ending in Nick's entire body leaped. He knew that voice, that voice was one of the most frightening voices he'd ever heard in his entire life, third only to the sound of The Goose and The Boss -- There was no doubting it. The Masquerade Murderer was none other than Fat Freddy, the whale of a mob member who had started it all.

"Doesn't matter, we got company," came the new arriver's voice, which Nick recognized as Jason's. Where was AJ? What had gone wrong after Nick left the hotel room? His heart skipped and his stomach lurched, and through it all he had to lay perfectly still so they thought he was dead. It was all too much, he felt as though he may explode.

Fat Freddy abandoned his examination of Nick and leaned towards the opened door of the barn to look out. "Jesus Christ Jason, did'ya bring enough of the Guardia with you?"

"I did what I had to do to get out here," Jason answered. He kicked Nick's side, which Nick was barely able to keep from reacting to as the pain shot into his side now, too. "You took care of his one? Fuckit, Freddy, I wanted to take care of this one... Little bastard punched me in the shnoze." He sounded disappointed.

"I did what you couldn't do," Freddy snapped pointedly.

"I couldda done it," Jason replied.

Freddy wheeled on his heels to glare at Jason, "Like you brought the cops here, you little fuck?" Freddy cussed and spit and turned away from Jason, angry. "Shut the hell up and let me figure out how to get out of here alive without getting caught, will you?"

"Did you keep the Agent alive?" Jason asked.

Nick hadn't even considered that Freddy could've killed Agent Bryant already and he felt his heart slow to nearly a stop at the thought. Especially when Freddy snarled back, "It's none of your damn business who I kill and don't kill."

"I was thinking we could use him as a ransom if you did," Jason explained, "You know, barter with them. Keep'em from shootin' until we get a bit away."

Fat Freddy paused, and finally decided even he couldn't undermine the logic in that idea, and rolled his head towards the horse's stall. "Go get him." Nick inwardly sighed with relief, but had to check his actual breath so that he wouldn't be found out. Jason walked over to the stall, leaving Freddy and Nick in the doorway.

Now was the delicate moment, Nick thought, holding still. Now was his time to come up with something to do that could save the day. If only he'd stopped in at the hotel and got the stuff - if only he'd had the time to, that is. But as it were, he wasn't armed or protected, so taking a risky chance would have to be either very well timed or under the absolute knowledge that the two killers weren't looking or were unarmed. Which he couldn't even tell when that was because he couldn't look to see where they were or what they were doing!

"Hey -- this your gun, Freddy?" shouted Jason from the pen as he tugged Bryant out of it. He held up Bryant's gun.

Freddy shook his head, "No you dumbass, I got my gun right here. It's the Agent's. Leave it there, and get the hell over here will you?" There was a thump as the gun hit the floor in the horse's stall and then the two sets of footfall as Jason pulled Agent Bryant in Nick's direction. Freddy grabbed at Bryant, ripping him from Jason's grasp and shoving his face in Nick's direction. "How d'ya like that, Agent?" sneered Fat Freddy, "I got a second one of you fucks." Bryant's heart stopped when he saw Nick laying there so still, so motionless. A tear fell from Agent Bryant's eye as the guilt of having failed his friends overwhelmed him. Fat Freddy laughed evilly at Agent Bryant, "I'm sorry, does this upset you? Well, that's what you get. You brought down my friends and Boss Romano... it's your turn to watch your friends get shot down one by one, too. Two down, one to go. Unless..." he looked at Jason, "Did you get the other Backstreet Boy yet?"

"He's outside," Jason answered, "With the cops. I did get one of the cops, though. That's how I got away."

"Well," Freddy answered with a sneer, "Let's go negotiate, shall we?" and with that, Nick listened as the barn doors were pushed opened noisily, and Freddy, Agent Bryant and Jason all stepped outside, closing the door behind them. He lay still another couple moments, his heart slamming in his chest, and silence falling over him like a sheet of iron. He waited, making sure nobody else was there, then looked up cautiously.

The barn was empty. He rolled onto his back and struggled up to his feet, biting his lip and staggering towards the horse's stall slowly so that his knee wouldn't give out again. He stumbled just a few inches away, and stretched, reaching for the gun that Jason had dropped onto the ground. He picked it up. It felt heavy, just like it had the very first time Bryant ever showed him how to use the damn thing. He remembered the targets in the gymnasium at the FBI headquarters in New York City and the way Bryant had chided him over being in awe over the gun... "You gonna make love to it or shoot it?" he'd asked. Nick smiled at the memory, then looked up at the doors to the barn.

"I'ma save the day," he whispered, standing back up.

AJ couldn't believe how out of the way Jason was bringing this chase on. It was a good forty minutes out of Berlin before he finally found them turning up a dirt road in the middle of a rural area, surrounded by farms. The police had arrived to apprehend Jason at the hotel just before he awoke. AJ shuddered at the way Jason had taken over the situation so violently, whipping about, grabbing the gun of a cop right out of his holster and gunning him down in such a fluid motion that all of the onlookers had been left speechless. The next thing they all knew there were seven squad cars, one of which carried AJ, flying down the autobahn and into the middle of no where Germany, rushing to catch up to the cop-killing right hand man of the Masquerade Murderer.

On the dirt road, they'd thought they'd caught up with Jason when he'd had to stop for two other cars blocking the road way, but he'd quickly stopped and ran like a bat out of hell, advancing quite a ways before the Guardia had even gotten out of their vehicles, bolting into a large, dilapidated looking barn in the distance. "This must be the headquarters," commented one of the policemen AJ had ridden with. They all stopped their vehicles and got out, arming themselves. AJ watched, mesmerized as the cops flowed around the cars, running towards the barn and fanning out, ducking down behind brush and fence posts, preparing for the coming stand off. He was stunned.

"Come on, man," called one of the younger cops, "Don't stand there, come with me." AJ followed dazedly as the rookie led the way to a post behind an old feeding trough and ducked down. They laid on their stomachs in the dust and waited, the cop aiming his gun towards the door of the barn. AJ panted and watched, wide eyed and senses tingling. He still felt as though at any moment he'd shake his mind clear and realize he was sitting on his sofa in front of a high definition TV set in his living room.

A bull horn squealed as it turned on, then a loud, rough voice cackled through it. "Come out with your hands up... This is the Berlin Guardia... Drop your firearms and come out with your hands where we can see them!" There was a long pause, all the officers waited tensely for something to happen. Then the captain repeated his command. "Come out with your hands up! Drop your firearms and come out of the barn with your hands in the air!"

The barn door opened and all the cops shifted, their guns trained on the door, and they waited, squinting at their anticipated targets. AJ felt his throat seize as Agent Bryant stepped out of the barn first, held back by the thick arm of Fat Freddy, a face he recognized from the docks the year before, and Jason. Freddy had Bryant held tight against his chest, his arm around the agent's neck to keep him from going anywhere, and as an added insurance that Bryant would stay put, Freddy held his gun to his temple. Bryant's arms were forward, palms up, for the Guardia to see that they were empty. He looked terrified and completely resigned to his fate all at once, and that scared AJ almost as much as the fact that he was being restrained so well by Freddy to begin with.

"We're here to negotiate out a little agreement with you," called Freddy, nodding at the police that surrounded the building. "I'm quite aware that you all have quite out numbered myself and my friend here, and I admit that I've got no way out of this. Except for one thing. I have your precious agent right here, and I've got the other one just inside the barn." AJ felt his stomach quench. Nick was captive. "Now, here's what my proposal is. Jason and I are going to go out the back way of this barn, and hop a ride in a getaway car, and you'll never hear from us again. In return, I will release to you this agent, and leave the other agent in the barn where you can find him." Jason smirked. AJ's stomach quenched harder... why was he smirking? What was funny about what Freddy had just said about leaving Nick where they could find him? ...Was Nick okay? "So how about it, boys," called Freddy with a chuckle, "Do we have ourselves a deal?"

"We don't negotiate with cold blooded killers," the captain responded solemnly, "You will surrender or you will be gunned down."

"And how, captain, do you plan to gun us down?" laughed Freddy loudly, he nodded his head at Bryant, "I've got a shield here, haven't I?"

The captain of the Guardia glanced about at his troops nervously. He bent down and started whispering to a couple guys, trying to figure out how to handle this. Could anyone sneak around to the back of the barn, he wondered, surprise the offenders from that angle and get the two agents out of the barn before there could be any backlash? What were their options?

Suddenly Agent Bryant shouted out, "Don't listen to them!" he yelled, "Don't listen to them!!" Freddy's jaw dropped opened and he squeezed Bryant's neck tighter, trying to make him stop talking. "They've killed him!" Bryant cried, his face crumbling, "They killed him! They fucking killed him! I've failed you all! Shoot this killer down! Don't think of me!" Freddy kneed Bryant sharply in the lower back, making his legs give from beneath him and choking him on Freddy's thick arm. "TAKE THESE GUYS OUT! TAKE'EM OUT!" Bryant hollered.

The captain motioned for the officers to take aim. AJ's eyes widened. They were going to follow Agent Bryant's commands?? Was that even legal?? "READY," the captain shouted.

Freddy twisted his body for Bryant to block him, edging back towards the door to act as a second shield, and Jason ducked back inside the barn.

Nick raised the gun just as Jason stepped inside. Jason looked up, blinking in surprise. Nick fired one shot, missed slightly, and hit Jason in the hand. "Get out of my way," Nick stated as Jason fell to one side, nursing the wound the bullet inflicted. Nick raised the gun a second time as Freddy backed into the door.

"Freddy! Your back!" Jason yelled. Fat Freddy began to turn around, pulling Bryant with him.

"AIM," shouted the Guardia captain. The officers all took aim.

Nick fired. The boom of the gun, and the whistle of the bullet all seemed to happen in slow motion to Nick. It was as though the instant in time was shrouded by a heavy silence that hung in the air. Fat Freddy's face paled and his jaw dropped and a curse flowed over his lips as his initial reaction was to release his grip on Agent Bryant and turn to block himself with his own arms, ducking to one side as he did so. Bryant flew through the air, falling to the ground with a bang as the bullet flew into Fat Freddy's shoulder, right at the base of his neck. Nick shot a second time, and a third, then a forth, hitting his arm, other shoulder and bicep. Fat Freddy stumbled backwards, out of the barn, and into the opened air in front of it.

"HOLD YOUR FIRE!!!!!!!!!!!!!" the captain shouted in surprise as Freddy fell to his knees, facing the officers and clutched his shoulders with both hands, yelling out in pain. "ARREST HIM," he yelled, "GO GO GO MOVE IN! MOVE IN!" The officers spilled forth from their posts. Several rushing to Fat Freddy, while quite a few of them, including AJ and the rookie he'd holed it out with, ran into the barn where Nick was kneeling beside Agent Bryant.

Nick leaned close as the noise broke forth. "Are you aiight, dawg?" he asked, his voice concerned. He looked down at Bryant.

Bryant looked up at Nick as he pushed himself up to his elbows, "I thought you were dead," he gasped, "Again," he added, remembering the year before.

Nick laughed, "I told you I was gonna save the day, you didn't believe me?"

"You scared the shit out of me," Bryant answered.

"NICK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" AJ exploded into the barn and threw his arms around Nick's neck in a celebratory hug, "You did it! You fucking did it! You saved the goddam day, you're fucking insane, dude, you're insane!"

Nick laughed and smiled up at AJ, "I told you I could do it, I told you!"

"You did tell me!" AJ laughed back, "Holy shit, that was incredible!"

"I KNOW!" Nick yelled.

Bryant laughed, shaking his head, "It was incredible, it was beyond incredible, agent."

Nick beamed proudly, "I did it!! I did it!" He looked around at the officers flooding the barn and the palest of sunlight sneaking in through the cracks in the roof, throwing slanted rays across the floor. Nick laughed and his eyes sparkled, and he whispered with pride, "I did it."

SAVING THE DAY FOR BLONDES 3: How Nick's Life was Threatened By a Coffee Cup

After saving the day in such a huge way, all Nick wants to do is go home and relax, which is exactly what he plans to do when he arrives in Los Angeles. Of course, after all that whining he's done during the search for the Masquerade Murderer about his caffeine fix you KNOW where the first place he's gonna go is... Starbucks, of course! But Nick's plans for catching some R&R are quickly shattered when he reads the "The Way I See It" quote on the back of his cup and discovers it's a death threat, addressed to direcly to him! It's Nick's third and hardest assignment so far... He's saved Kevin... He's saved Agent Bryant... Can Nick save himself?

Find out soon.