Codename: Kryptonite

Chapter Thirty-three

Agent Mission Log Entry:

God, save me from exasperating men!

"Explain to me how you know he's the one," Richie demanded as he hurried to keep up with Gabby.

Gabby was running top speed down the stairs; her footsteps echoed through the stairwell. She had to get to the lobby in time to see which way Nate was going. "You should've stayed in the apartment," she tossed over her shoulder, as she rounded a corner and started down the next flight of stairs.

"Yeah, but should've and did are two different things," Richie replied with a grin. Damn, she was almost as hard to keep up with as Jon. "Now, explain."

Gabby frowned at the order as she reached the door that opened into the lobby. She sighed. If she'd learned anything about this man, it was that he was persistent as hell. He was worse than any three year old playing the 'why' game with a parent. She refused to answer him until they'd crossed the lobby and reached the door to the street. Carefully, she peeked out the door, seeing Nate's dark head several yards down the sidewalk and moving quickly through the crowd. "Nate said he left after me and was sent to help," she said, then stepped through the door.

Richie followed her. "And?" he prompted.

"And," she said clearly exasperated, "he said I had changed things, that Jon wasn't even still President."

He still wasn't seeing what was apparently crystal clear to her. "Yeah. So?"

"So," she said stepping around a young woman with a stroller, trying to keep Nate in her sight. "How would he know?"

"Know what?" Richie asked, keeping step with her and shadowing her movements.

"How would he know that anything was different?' she asked absentmindedly as she kept pace with Nate.

"I don't get it," Richie said, shaking his shaggy head.

"Think about it," she said, pausing briefly at the entrance to an alley, poised to duck into it if Nate looked back. He didn't so she moved on. "Everything after I left would have just been his history - everyone else's history. He would just know it as fact. Not that there was any difference." At Richie's puzzled look, she continued. "Let's take something from your history, for example. You survived because you didn't get on that plane that crashed."

"Right," Richie agreed with a quick nod, keeping step beside her.

"You'll go on living your life. History will record that you lived a long and happy life having taken route B instead of route A. You wouldn't even know about route A if I hadn't been here to tell you. People that look you up in twenty years from now will only know what did happen. Not what could have happened."

Slowly, realization dawned on Richie's face. "You're quite the time travel expert," he chuckled.

She watched Nate turn left at the next corner, and quickened her step. "Not exactly," she replied with a shrug. "But Jon and I had a long talk about it. And we decided that if he wasn't still President in the future, I wouldn't even be here."

"We decided?" Richie questioned softly, really not expecting an answer. So, he was surprised that he got one.

"If he wasn't still president in the future then I wouldn't have come back in time to save him, so I wouldn't be here now," Gabriella said with a shrug. At Richie's puzzled frown, she laughed softly. "Don't think about it too much, Rich. It'll only make your head hurt."

"But, what about..."

Richie's voice droned on, but the agent in Gabby was in overdrive. It wasn't that she was ignoring him, it was just that there was something way more important than his idle chatter - Finding Jon.

It wasn't even that he was her mission any more. No. Now it was personal. She watched Nate duck into an alley between an apartment building and one undergoing a massive remodel. She quickened her pace, not caring if Richie kept up or not. Not losing Nate was her biggest priority.

Tension was building, adrenaline was pumping, and fear was about to choke her. She knew she had to get control of it all or Jon was the one going to suffer.

Her feet were moving fast as she wove in and out of foot traffic. Richie followed closely on her heels. When Gabby reached the alley, she pressed her back against the building, motioning for Richie to do the same. Carefully, she peeked around the corner and swore softly.

"What?" Richie demanded.

"We lost him," she growled softly, her voice full of self disgust.

The snick of a key in the lock made Jon's head jerk up to glare at the door. After the man had left earlier, Jon had screamed and called for help to no avail. Wherever this was, there wasn't anyone close enough to hear him above the street noise. It hadn't taken too long for him to realize that was why his new friend hadn't bothered to gag him when he left. Jon had arrogantly thought the guy was just incompetent. The door Asshole had left out of appeared to be the only one in this large open space. From what Jon could see of the area, the building or at least this floor was undergoing a major remodeling. Sawhorses lined up with plywood table tops were scattered about the area, as were drop cloths and a large number of paint cans.

Now, the curly headed asshole swaggered into the room, the very picture of arrogance. "Well, hello Mr. President. I trust you've been well." He was so very smug as he chuckled at his own joke.

"Asshole," Jon snarled softly.

"This will all be over shortly," Nate went on. "Your girlfriend will be calling soon to schedule a meet up. She'll give me what I want, then I'll give her you. Of course, then I'll have to kill you both." He shrugged indifferently.

"Her name is Gabby," Jon told him. "And, she'll get your ass. She's good."

"Oh yeah," Nate grinned dirtily, "she's good." The double entendre left no doubt what he meant. "But right now, she thinks I'm helping her. See, Gabby and I go way back."

Icy blue eyes glared at Nate from across the room. It didn't sit well with Jon at all that the fucker was talking about Gabby like that, but what could he do with his hands tied behind his back? "I'd guess it didn't last long though," he said with a casual shrug. "Obviously you have performance issues, and she's so much better than you as an agent, I'm sure it affected your performance in the bedroom." Jon smiled at Nate's glare. "I could see where that would be a problem in any relationship."

"She was happy enough to see me," Nate snarled. "In fact, when I told her that things were all fucked up and that you weren't even president any more, she'd have jumped at the chance to just use the bracelet and go home, if your friend hadn't objected."

"Huh," Jon let out a half laugh.

"What?" Nate demanded, taking a step toward Jon.

A Cheshire cat smile stretched Jon's lips; he had never been more happy to say something as he was now. "You're such a fucking idiot."