The bustle of a busy airport was the last thing Nat needed after a long night of driving, lost in her own thoughts. One hundred and eighty-seven kilometers after leaving Albi, she had arrived in Tarbes at the crack of dawn, stopping at the shop Vadim had recommended to her to retrieve a stock of equipment and ingredients to cloak the apartment her friend had managed to get settled under her name. Then another twenty kilometers, and she was at the airport, with enough time to take a short nap in the terminal before Adam's flight got in. As the announcement went out that the plane had landed, she pulled herself wearily to her feet and moved toward the arrivals lounge, scratching her fingers through her hair.

It was at times like these that being an FBI agent had its advantages. Adam had been able to pull a few strings in order to book a first class flight taking him from Arizona, across the country to New York, where he caught another flight across the Atlantic to France. He'd managed to catch a little restless sleep on the plane, but he'd spent most of his time thinking and poking away at his computer, cramming in all the research he could while he had time. Half a day later, he finally arrived in France, tired, jet-lagged, a little cranky and worried, but for the most part, he took it in stride. He was more annoyed with Rhys than Natalya, and he had practiced the speech he was going to give him as soon as they found him several times in his head while on the way over. Not if, when. Adam refused to give up hope, unwilling to believe they'd come all this way for nothing.

For herself, Nat had given up on anger and hurt and distress in favor of simply getting to the residence Vadim had found for them and making it safe. She was saving her energy for that moment when the spell ignited and they would be hallowed and safe within the walls of the apartment building. She could slap Rhys about when Adam was done with him, she had decided. As the people waiting to pick up their friends and relatives began to gather around her, she straightened her jacket, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. No disguises, no nothing. Adam was just going to have to recognise her on merit.

Getting through customs and the security checks had been a breeze, and it didn't hurt that, unlike Rhys, Adam's French was flawless. At first sight, one might mistake him for a businessman, dressed in a dark-colored suit, neatly pressed, but a little bit rumpled from the long trip. A few years older than Rhys, he was in his mid-thirties; tall, handsome, and soft-spoken, with an easy-going smile, short dark hair, and dark eyes that missed nothing. He was obviously of Native American heritage, but he rarely spoke about that, except to those he trusted.

They didn't call him Hawk for nothing, partly due to his last name and partly due to his keen sense of observation. Sharp eyes easily found Rhys' Russian in the crowd and he made his way toward her, weaving his way between passengers and those there to greet them, wheeling a carry-on behind him, a laptop case slung over one shoulder.

She was a smartly turned out beauty for him to pin his eyes on, already possessed of their adapted ID cards, passports, and financial arrangements tucked into her clutch. Poor Adam was about to get a full blast of Natalya in full protection mode. She reached up as she approached her, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to give him a warm hug - the sort a sister might give to a brother she had not seen in a while and was not particularly close to. "Andy, you came!" Her voice, too, was pitched to perfectly match his accent, something she had practised in the car on the way here. "I thought for a while there you'd convinced the pilot to turn around and fly away!"

He arched a brow, a little surprised at the greeting, but he got the hint and went along with the ruse, giving her a one-armed hug in return, a warm albeit fake smile on his face. "Of course, I did! I wouldn't miss this little party for the world." He leaned close and whispered in her ear as he hugged her close. "What should I call you?"

Her lips barely moved by his lips as she gave him that answer in a low voice. "Kayley, sister-in-law." Stepping back from him, her smile was warm and seemed genuine, her gaze flickering to the bags he held. "Can I give you a hand" I've got the car parked in the lot - Patrick would have come himself, but he's been so busy with his research. You know how he gets."

There was only a very brief flicker of a frown at the mention of "Patrick" and a look that told her he understood, before the frown was replaced with a smile again. "No, it's okay. I've got it." He pulled away from her, adjusting the laptop case against his shoulder. "After you. I'm anxious to see him."

"So am I, I haven't seen him for two days!" Her laugh was the laugh of a wife who'd been absent-mindedly abandoned by her workaholic husband, but there was a flicker deep in her eyes that shared Adam's concern as she took his arm. "You've got everything, yeah' No need to run back and accost some poor woman who's got your super-secret special bag?"

"No, I've got everything. I like to travel light." In point of fact, he hadn't bothered to bring a lot of clothes. Whatever he didn't have that he needed, he'd just pick up while he was here. He had brought along only the essentials and those essentials included a few items that could be considered contraband, if not for his security clearance. "I'm sure he'll be surprised to see both of us."

"I'm not," he replied, seriously. "Not as much as he is anyway. I don't think he even tries. It just happens." He reached for her clutch, not because he was nosy, but to search for the fake IDs, sighing as he pulled them out and looked them over. "A thought occurred to me that I don't think you'll like."

"There is a lot about this situation I do not like, Adam," she murmured softly, glancing into the rear-view as she drew them from the main highway into the ever narrower, winding streets of the town itself.

"It's the name....Patrick Clapton. Does it mean anything to you?" he asked, as he turned to her, replacing the fake documents in her clutch until they arrived at their destination.

She shook her head, drawing the car to a halt to allow a party of wheelchair bound pilgrims to cross the road ahead of them. "No, it means nothing to me," she admitted. "I thought it best to keep to the alias he had chosen for himself, though." Her hand reached across to touch his arm, drawing his attention to the wide space the opened up across the short bridge to their right. It was an avenue, lined on one side with buildings, leading to a sweeping basilica with the suggestion of more space beyond. "That is the Domain, the Sanctuary of Our Lady of Lourdes," she told him. "The greatest area of hallowed ground in Europe."

"And you think that's where he might be," he said, turning his head toward the indicated area when she touched his arm. He eyed the basilica, thinking that if he was Rhys, it would be where he'd go to seek sanctuary and asylum, if only for a little while, only it was almost too obvious. "It's going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack." Fortunately, he had a plan.

"There are at least three basilica within the Domain," Natalya explained as she drew the car away. "As well as a chapel of the Sacred Heart, and the grotto shrine itself. The only problem is that there are four exits from the Domain itself, and he will have to leave it at midnight each night. They do not allow anyone to live on the premises unless they are in the hospitals."

"I'm not so sure he'd trying to hide." There, he'd said it. He'd told her what he'd been thinking for a while. It was a disturbing thought, but it needed to be said. All of the possibilities needed to be considered, nothing left to chance. "Patrick is his middle name. He was named for his father," he explained, not yet ready to mention the son Rhys and Riley had lost. "If I know Rhys the way I think I know him, he's borrowed the last name from Eric Clapton. It follows his usual pattern of borrowing names from rock musicians. The thing is..." And this was the part he found disturbing. "I think he may have done it on purpose this time."

"He wants them to find him?" Nat was aghast at that thought, her eyes wide turning to stare at Adam even as she drew the car into a reserved parking space in front of an apartment building less than a minute's walk from the Domain's northernmost entrance. "Would they know such things about him?"

"They know enough. They've been making his life a living hell since he was nine. I'm wondering if he's hoping to draw them toward him and away from you. You said he wants to finish it. Maybe he's purposely drawing them out into the open, trying to bait them into a trap. If he knows about this place you spoke of....Le Breche de Roland....Maybe he's planning on drawing them there, but....And this is a big but. That's only if he knows about it, and I'm not sure he does."

"That is foolish, even for him." She parked up with a jerk of the car, her agitation at the thought of Rhys standing alone against a legion showing itself too openly for a moment. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down, and opened her door, moving around to open the trunk for him. Her voice lowered as she murmured into his ear. "Then we need to find him and get him safely onto this property as soon as possible."

"There's a thin line between foolish and brave, Natalya." Adam frowned, as worried about his friend as she was. He wasn't quite sure whether Rhys' actions were purposeful or not, but he intended to find out. He followed her out of the car and around to the trunk to retrieve his bags, glancing to her when she whispered in his ear. "Agreed. That's why I'm here." He offered a faint smile. He had a few tricks of his own up his sleeve that she wasn't aware of yet.

She took hold of his laptop bag, looping the strap over her shoulder and closing the trunk of the car. Her hand settled itself into the crook of Adam's elbow to steer him toward the stairs up and into the building. "Well, I hope you have some ideas, because I am fast running out of them."

"You have something that belongs to him?" he asked as he let her lead him up the stairs and into the building. He knew she had his phone, at least, if nothing else, but he was wondering if she had anything else. "I have an idea."

"Just his phone," she murmured quietly. "And my heart, if that matters at all." She shook her head, jogging up the open steps in the cool spring breeze to lead him to the door of an apartment on the second floor. The corridor was beautifully defensible, offering two fire escapes, as well as the main stairs, as escape routes, evenly spaced on either side of the door she moved to open.

He followed her up the stairs, taking a look around, noting the exits, which could be good or bad. "I assume you've warded this place against demons." He wasn't sure what form her preferred type of protection would take, but he doubted she had not taken the proper precautions, as simple or as difficult as they might be.

"Not yet," she told him. "But the local bishop owed Vadim a favor - he consecrated the entire building to the Virgin at midnight last night." She pushed open the door, ushering Adam inside. "You, my friend, are on hallowed ground. Once we have Rhys here, I can cloak the place, and it'll be as much a fortress as any castle you could name."

"Very well," he replied, setting his suitcase down on the floor as soon as they were inside. He pulled off his jacket and tossed it on a nearby chair. "Let's get started, shall we?" Enough time had been wasted already. He was anxious to get started, and the sooner the better.

((Many thanks to Rhys' player for pulling out Adam for this scene!))