Light filtered in through the bare windows, illuminating the darkness behind my eyes. I groan, throwing my arms over my face, trying to shield myself from the light but with no use. I turn to face the back of the couch, the sunlight hitting me from all angles.

Then I hear it; the piercing chirps of those god damn birds from yesterday.

"Motherfucking birds," I grumble, turning again in my makeshift bed.

"Stop. Moving." A gruff voice warns. I keep my eyes closed, confused where it's coming from.

I uncurl my legs from my chest, barely stretching out before my foot hits something and strong fingers wrap around my ankle.

I try to pull away, but the grip on my ankle tighten.

"I said, stop moving." The voice orders again.

Now, I open my eyes, slowly, the morning's light stinging and causing my eyes to water.

At the end of my couch, where my feet should be without trouble, is Scott, his head resting against the back of the couch and feet up on the coffee table, crossed at the ankles. His eyes are shut, one hand holding my ankle with the other lays on top of his armrest.

"What are you doing on my couch?" I mumble, trying again to free my foot from his grip but with no luck.

"Your couch?" This causes one eye to pop open, his iris almost turquoise in the early sun.

Now his other eye opens, and his free hand balls into a fist to try and adjust his gaze, his lips parted wide as he rubs.

"I'm pretty sure this couch belongs to the FBI," he turns his head towards me, a lazy smile shining through the several days of unshaven scruff.

My heart rate spikes, jealous at how good-looking someone can be just waking up. The thought makes me blush and I wonder what I look like right now. I try to subtly run a hand through my hair, hoping it wasn't a crazy mess since I never brushed it after I got out of the shower, but Scott's eyes follow my movement, so I drop my hand quickly.

"That still doesn't explain why you're on this couch," I point out, my fingers toying with the fringed end of my blanket.

My face suddenly pinches; I hadn't fallen asleep with a blanket.

I raise my head to ask Scott if he had gotten me a blanket for the night, but before my gaze can find his, the weight of the couch shifts and Scott is up, pulling at his shirt as he leaves the room without a word and without answering my questions.

I huff and fall back onto my pillow, staring up at the ceiling fan that has dust bunnies the size of rats and I scrunch my nose at them, wondering how many germs are sitting in each one.

With a sigh, I throw the mystery blanket into Scott's empty spot.

I can hear the quiet voices of Scott and Alex from the kitchen and rather than join them, I head upstairs to try and make myself presentable to a less embarrassing degree.

After washing my face with cold water, shocking myself awake and brushing away my morning breath, I'm ready to face my agents.

I'm halfway down the stairs when the front door slams shut, a figure racing down the front steps before the roar of a classic engine sends the morning birds scattering through the trees.

Alex comes strolling down the foyer with a coffee mug and a lazy smile. I take the last few steps and meet him at the bottom.

"What was that?" We both stare at the door, the shiny black car and her owner long gone.

Alex brings the cup to his lips and takes a slurping sip.

"Warrant came in."

-/::\-

Scott watches the flurry of agents around him; the judge had signed the warrant for Vine's home and office and Scott stood watching while his team searched for the smoking gun–literally.

"You won't find anything." Vine drawls from his desk chair, arms crossed behind his head and one leg tucked over the other.

Scott doesn't even glance towards him, just keeps his eyes sweeping across the room, his thoughts quiet as he tries not to get his hopes up while praying that this was the moment they were going to finally pin Vine down once and for all.

This wasn't the first time since his mother's death that Scott came face-to-face with his mother's murderer.

The first time they met, Scott was still a probationary agent working the case of a missing accountant in his 40′s. Scott pleaded with his boss to let him on the case, and he almost lost everything when he saw those amber eyes that haunted him for years.

Scott was managing to keep it together throughout their search at one of Vine's personal properties about twenty miles outside of the city. But as Vine's strolled through the hoards of agents, looking over their shoulders while knawing on a soggy-looking toothpick, he made a comment; "Whatever the fat prick got, he probably deserved."

Scott, who had been barely holding it together as is, snapped. He spun before anyone knew what was happening, and before anyone had a chance to stop him, his fist connected with Vine's jaw so hard, he knocked out a tooth. Scott wound up for another blow before several pairs of hands grabbed him and fought to hold him off.

Vine was winding up to show the kid who he was messing with when one of the agents yelled, "Hoying! That's enough!"

Scott watched as a memory played behind those amber eyes, and the malice in Vine's face was replaced by a bloody smirk.

Vine flicked at the blood pooling at the edge of his grin and stared at Scott.

"You might want to put a leash on your pup." Vine spoke smoothly, as if his lip wasn't swelling to a deep purple.

Scott lunged at him again, but three different pairs of hands held him back.

Vine just chuckled at the boy before excusing himself to clean up.

The little stunt cost Scott a month's suspension–no pay–and probably would have cost him his job if Avi hadn't stood up for him.

The next time Scott encountered Vine, it was during his stint with homicide; they were putting together a string of murders that all smelled like hits and, they could never prove it, but Vine had been their prime suspect. Vine tried baiting Scott, like an owner getting ready to throw his dog into a pit, antagonizing the animal until its rabid and ready to fight to the death, but Scott knew that's exactly what he wanted, and no blow would hurt Vine as much as the knowledge that his pokes and prods couldn't even elicit a clenched fist.

And this time, Scott watched Vine smugly. Even if they didn't find anything, Scott was going to drag his ass in anyways for a lineup. A gun would just be the cherry on top.

"I think I found something." A timid head pokes out from behind a door jam, the blue FBI jacket barely staying up on her shoulders.

Scott glances to Vine, not a single muscle moved from his smile before following the room he had been searching.

"Whatcha got?" Scott leans in towards the kid, keeping his voice low as he towers over the tech.

"I think there's a secret room." The tech points to a bookshelf in the middle of the wall.

Scott scratches at his days' old scruff that he was too much in a rush to have shaved it off when he stopped home to change after getting the "okay" from the judge.

"What makes you say that?"

The kid holds up a finger before bringing the iPad in her hands to life and tapping furiously until a blueprint pops up.

"So, I tapped into the city's records and looked into the zoning permits for this house," the kid speaks so fast, Scott's worried he's going to miss a word.
"And this room, when built, was five hundred square feet."

Scott suddenly looks up.

"Five hundred feet?" He looks around. "No way in hell this room is five hundred square feet."

The tech lights up.

"Exactly!" She snaps. "By my estimate," her excited brown eyes wander the room. "There's about a hundred and fifty feet missing." She nods, looking around the room around the room until her eyes return to the bookshelf, Scott following her gaze.

"Let's Scobby Doo this bitch." Scott nods towards the bookshelf, and the tech stows her iPad in her messenger bag before following Scott.

They begin running their hands along the edges of the shelf, trying to find anything that would indicate a trip switch. Scott begins pulling at the books, pulling them by the spines and scattering on the floor behind him, and the tech runs her hands along the outside panels, squatting as she makes her way down the wood.

"Got it!" The kid shouts. Scott quickly ducks down to his level, and the tech points out the faint shadow of a track.

"Nice!" Scott pats the kid's shoulder. "Okay, let's move this thing." The tech nods and stands back up. Scott braces his shoulder against the shelf and digs his feet into the carpet, the tech following suit.

"What's your name, by the way?" Scott asks the tech over his shoulder.

"Candice. Candice Lambert."

"Well, Candice, if this works, I'm buying your drinks for the rest of your life." Scott says earnestly, causing Candice to chuckle.

"Okay, on the count of three, push. Got it?" Scott orders.

"Got it."

"One, two–" Together they dig their feet into the carpet and the bookshelf begins scraping along the wall moving. The two keep pushing until the shelf catches and a locking click is heard.

They fall away from the shelf, staring into the dark hole where the bookshelf once stood.

"Well I'll be damned."

Scott strides back into the main room where Adam sits waiting.

"How'd the goose chase go this time, Hoying?" Adam lights up at Scott.

Scott doesn't respond and keeps walking until he's right beside Vine, his blue eyes meeting amber.

"Looking to hit me again?" Adam grins but Scott just smiles, causing him to frown.

"Stand up." Scott orders, voice terse.

"Do you get off bossing people around, Hoying?" Adam tries to regain his composure.

Scott takes a deep breath and looks away, his hand scratching at his nose before he looks back down at Vine with a humorless laugh.

"Adam Levine, you have the right to remain silent." Scott's voice is calm and collected despite his racing heart,
"Excuse me?" Vine spits but Scott ignores his and wraps his hand around Adam's bicep and drags him out of his seat.

"Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law." Scott slaps the cuffs around Vine's wrist, ignoring the hiss as Scott locks them a bit too tight. "You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you."

Scott leads Vine out of the house and into the driveway where a group of agents are waiting. A young probie stands by a squad car and opens the back door as Scott and Vine arrive.

"Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?" Scott spins Vine around, forcing him to look him in the eye.

"You're going to regret this, Hoying. I can promise you that." Adam's voice is low and trembling, his anger finally betraying them.

"And I promise you," Scott narrows his eyes, voice matched so that only Adam can hear him. "You're going to regret the day you killed Connie Hoying."

Adam takes a deep breath but Scott hits him in the shoulder with enough force to spin him again before pushing him into the back of the squad car and slamming the door shut.

"Get him to the bureau. Now." Scott orders the probie, who yells a "yes, sir," over his shoulder as he runs around to the driver's side.

Scott watches the squad car peel out of the driveway until it's out of sight before reaching into his pocket and fishing out his cell phone, pulling up the only contact under his Favorites page.

Scott hits the name and puts it to his ear as the phone starts ringing.

"Hey, Scottie." The always cheerful voice greets him. "What's up?"

Scott steps away from the crowds of agents who are buzzing around him, moving in and out of the house with computer desktops, weapons, notebooks and anything else that could hold information.

"Kirstie," Scott takes a deep breath. "I got him." A silence falls over the line and Scott can hear some shuffling as Kirstin excuses herself from wherever she is.

"Are you serious?" Kirstin asks breathless. "You really got him?"

"Yeah, Kirstie. I did." Scott shuffles through the driveway, looking at the bright yellow flowers that line the walkway. "And I'm gonna make him pay for what he's done to us.

-/::\-

I sat on the couch with my legs crossed and laptop in front of me. I had been cleared to work part-time from "home," and I practically jumped Jess when she handed you the bureau-approved laptop for me to work from.

I had been working for about four hours when Jess's phone rang and she stepped out of the room to take it. From my spot on the couch, I can see her eyeing me as she talks in hushed tones. My heart begins to pump faster as Jess glances at me every few seconds, and I can tell that something's up, and it probably wasn't good. I look over to Jake, hoping he'll have some idea as to what's happening, but Jake keeps his eyes on the book in front of him, seemingly not caring about what his partner was up to.

"Got it, thanks." Jess says very professionally before returning to the room.

I snap my gaze back to my laptop, hoping she didn't notice my attempt to eavesdrop.

Jess stops in front of me and flips her cell around in her hand.

"Everything okay?" I look up at her.

I watch as she forces a smile on her face.

"We need to take you down to the bureau." She says simply, her voice flat.

"Is everything okay?" I ask again, the panic rising in my voice.

"They need you for a line up."

My brows scrunch.

"A line up?" My heart stops at the words and I look up at Jess with excitement. "Does that mean—"

"Scott arrested him this afternoon." Jess smiles. "So we're going to escort you down for an official line up." This catches Jake's attention and I look over to see him watching the two of us.

"When—"

"This afternoon." Jess finishes for me again. "Actually, it would be best if we left sooner rather than later." She motions to the laptop that's seated on top of my legs. I quickly shut it and hurry up from the couch.

"Give me five minutes and I'll be ready."

Jess just gives me a smiling nod as I race upstairs to change out of my yoga pants and pajama shirt. I was pretty sure that bastard wasn't going to see me, but if he did, I was going to make sure I looked good, and show him that I wasn't going to crumble because he was trying to kill me. It was my turn to instill the fear, and if he saw me, I was going to make sure that he could see in my eyes, that he was heading to jail because of me.

It took us an hour and a half to make it to the bureau, and once we arrived, we were greeted by a happy-looking Avi Kaplan and the District Attorney, Esther Koop, a middle-aged woman with fine lines, brunette hair streaked with grey strands and fierce eyes that could but the fear of God in me if I was ever on her bad side. There was something inspiring about her, and as they lead me to the lineup room, I rolled my shoulders back to show her I wasn't scared. I wasn't sure why, but the last thing I wanted to do was look weak in front of her.

"Here's what's going to happen," Esther stood next to me as I peered into the room in front of me. It was currently empty, but the wall across from me had a white and black height chart.

My eyes leave the room and find her's.

"Six men are going to walk into the room. I want you to look at every single one of them. Take your time. There's no rush. We want to make sure we nail the bastard. Got it?" I nod, swallowing hard.

"Watch yourself, Koop." I turn around as a man in an expensive-looking suit walks in, a briefcase in hand. His blonde hair is slicked back and his beady eyes look me over, causing the hair on my neck to stand up. All he needed his tongue sticking out of his pink lips and the image of a snake would be complete.

"You wouldn't want to be accused of persuading our witness here." He steps to my other side and smiles down at me.

"Bart Holomen, attorney at law." He reaches his hand out. The last thing I want to do is shake it—already knowing, even without him saying, he's here to represent Vine—but I take his hand in mine anyway and give it a tight squeeze, causing his smile to widen as he chuckles.

"That's quiet the handshake you've got there." He leers down at me, his ugly smirk still plastered on. "Wonder what else you've got."

"That's enough." Scott's voice rises through the room, and I look over his shoulder to see him leaning against the doorframe. I have no idea when he got here.

"Calm yourself, Hoying." The words roll off Bart's tongue as if he couldn't care less about the death threats Scott seemed to be sending his way.

"Let's get to the reason why we're all here." Esther glares at Bart before pressing a button on a wall.

"Send them in."

Six men, all in similar outfits, file into the room, each holding a number in their hand. My breath catches as number four steps in and faces me, his amber eyes somehow finding mine through the two-way glass.

"Now, Mitchell, take a look. Do you see anyone in the room you recognize?" Esther asks me gently, a hand on my shoulder.

I swallow down the fear that I can feel building in my throat. This is where I take my life back. And I wasn't going to look weak doing it.

"Yes. Number four." I point to Vine.

I almost miss the smirk falter on Bart's face.

"And where exactly do you recognize him from?" Bart asks, staring down at me, daring me to tell the truth. I can see the threat in his eyes, but in a room full of FBI agents, I knew I was never safer.

"Well let's see?" I narrow my eyes at ­­Bart and hold out one finger. "There's the night I watched him murder the guy in the parking garage. And then open fired at me." I watch Bart's jaw clench as I hold out the second finger. "And then there was a few days ago, when he, oh what was it?" I put my outstretched finger to my chin. "Oh right, tried to have me killed." I smile tightly at Bart as a deep laugh echoes through the room.

All of us turn towards Scott, who is still leaning against the doorframe, but his head bowed as he works through a sudden coughing fit.

"How's that?" I turn back to Bart and cross my arms. Bart purses his lips but doesn't respond, just turns on his heel with a quiet "excuse me," and pushing past Scott who didn't step aside.

Once Bart is out of sight, I turn to Esther.

"How'd I do?"

She smiles at me proudly.

"Ya did good, kid. Shelton's gonna have his work cut out for him with you around." She taps me on the arm before following Bart's path, Scott stepping aside for her.

I look over to Avi.

"So what now?"

Avi looks to Scott for a moment before turning back to me.

"Now, we get you back to the safe house, and we get ole Adam here locked up." Avi throws his head over his shoulder to where Vine stood in the line up.

"That's it?" I ask incredulously. "Just like that?" My eyes dart between Scott and Avi.

"Just like that." Scott smiles at me. "But that doesn't mean this is over." Scott pushes off the door frame and walks towards me.

"Now, he's going to be charged, and you're going to have to testify in court, and that's going to be a lot harder than pointing him out from behind some glass." Scott steps closer to me.

My heart is racing, but at least I'm one step closer to ending this nightmare.

"Once everything's ready for the trial, Esther will help you prepare to be a witness, and once Vine is found guilty, we'll get you back to your life." Scott nods at me, his blue eyes staring directly in mine.

"Okay?" He asks you, his eyes soft.

"Okay." I whisper.