"There they are again!"

She points towards the figures in the upper left corner of the photo.

"I knew I saw them there," Jonathan nods.

"That's now at least sixteen different protests they've been at, all over the place. Penn, Boston, Columbia, Yale..." she quickly rattles off, petering out as her point is made.

"Yeah," Jonathan nods again.

"And we've spotted them in the moment several times, but still we haven't gotten a word with them. How can we keep missing them?" She poses the question and glances up at him. They're huddled closed together in the NYT darkroom, peering over the photos Jonathan took of the anti-war protest at Fordham earlier.

"They're discreet, good at hiding when they want to, I guess," Jonathan reasons.

"Hm. From cops? Sure, but why from us? I get that not everyone likes journalists but why hide? Get a chance to get your word out or you know, just tell us off."

"Maybe they're paranoid? Feel like they have a lot to hide, a lot to lose?" Jonathan suggests.

"Hm. Maybe. Ugh, we need to get them."

They've been continuosly working on covering the anti-war movement within in the larger counterculture movement for months now. Covering protests and through rigorous work in establishing contacts and trust they've managed to highlight a lot of the different groups and factions in the large and fragmentized movement. Talking with people within different student groups, with the Women's League, with Black Panthers, and many others, even the Weathermen. Through Lucas, who's become part of it, they could do a great piece on Vietnam Veterans Against the War. But it's one group that currently intrigues them the most. Because they're so evasive and small. They're not even sure they're a group, like organized. But they're at every protest, the same little clique of six people that stick close together. They're loud and persistent. And always right in the middle of it, if anything ever goes down at a protest they're always right where the action is but to her knowledge have never been taken in or anything. And there's just something about them that intrigues her. How small the group is, how mobile it is and the mix of people it seems to consist of makes it stand out.

She's just got this feeling there's something special about them. That they're a part of the movement they haven't written about before. But so far they've just got photos of the clique of six people, four women and two men, and one out of six names. Kali. Asking around a lot, exhausting all her contacts that's all she got. That the young woman with long black hair and golden skin is called Kali. She seems to be the leader of the little group. The other five members are still a mystery. There's a young white girl, looking like a teenage runaway, who always keeps close to Kali. She observed them once and Kali seemed protective of the girl, the girl seemed to never leave her sight. Then there's a black woman with an afro, a white hippie girl with long hair, some white guy always in a leather jacket and a large, stocky black man. That mix of people is intriguing in itself, usually it's more segregated, Black Panthers and other African-American groups for themselves, women's groups for themselves, etc, but in this little group people from seemingly diverse backgrounds have come together.

"We'll get them. No one can hide from Pulitzer Prize winner Nancy Wheeler for too long," Jonathan smiles and presses a kiss to her temple.

"You really gotta stop calling me that," she smiles and bashfully looks down.

"You spelled it out about me on my birthday cake," he argues.

"No I didn't, your mom did. I just supported the idea," she grins back.

"Fair enough."

They walk out of the darkroom and heads back towards the bullpen area where she has her desk. They're nearly done for the day, she just has to pick up her things.

"So what do you want do for dinner, should we get pizza or Chinese?" She asks him as they walk over to her desk.

"Or we could cook," he smirks.

"More like you cook and I tell you how pretty you are," she jokes back. But not really because that's kind of what they do.

"That's always fine be me," he smiles. "But eh, maybe pick up something I feel-"

"Hey Jonathan," the intern Katie suddenly interrupts. "There's someone here to see you," she continues and gestures to a man with dark hair that's greying at the temples and some five o' clock shadow.

"Hey son," the man says.

Their happy, playful mood is gone right away as Jonathan instantly goes rigid. She looks from him to his father, a man she barely has any personal recollection of but who he's told her about. What he's told her is enough for her to want to throw Lonnie Byers out the window. Lonnie walks up to them with a smile. Jonathan stares at his father in disbelief and with thinly veiled contempt. He told her he hasn't seen his father since he walked out on the family when Jonathan was 14. Beat Jonathan and call him worthless for years then disappear for nine, only to now out of the blue appear. What's changed? She knows what's changed. Pulitzer Prize winner Jonathan Byers. Suddenly there's money to the Byers name.

"Long time no see," Lonnie grins.

"What are you doing here?" Jonathan breathes out.

"Came to see you, son!" Lonnie continues and sticks out his hand. Jonathan doesn't move a muscle.

"Go away," she tells Lonnie in her best steely voice, stepping forward and positioning herself in front of Jonathan. Her focus is on Lonnie but she notices the rest of the room has gone quite, watching the exchange.

"And who are you?" Lonnie keeps that smug fake grin on his face and extends his hand towards her instead. She crosses her arms over her chest.

"Doesn't matter to you. You should go away now."

"Well, nice to meet you too," Lonnie rolls his eyes and looks past her. "Look son, I know it's been a while-"

"Nine years," she interrupts.

"- but you've done alright for yourself and I've been thinking maybe we could talk. I know we've had our differences-" Differences?! That's one way of putting it. Another would be child abuse.

"You should be thrown in jail," she interrupts again.

"Lady," Lonnie's patience seems to wearing thin, he stops to compose himself a little before continuing. "Would you let me talk to my son?"

"Jonathan, do you want to talk to him?" She quickly asks, knowing the answer.

"No," Jonathan says.

"There you go. You can go now," she tells Lonnie again.

"Jesus Christ," Lonnie sighs. "Son come on, stop hiding behind this broad and let's talk man to man."

"Katie, get security," she tells the intern who's been standing frozen in spot off to the side watching the whole time like the rest of the office.

"No! Goddamnit who the fuck are you to-" Lonnie boils over at that and takes a rough hold of her arm to move her out of the way. Before she can even try to get loose, Jonathan has stepped forward and forced Lonnie off of her. He grabs Lonnie by the collar.

"Don't. Touch. Her," he hisses to his father in a low voice. Several co-workers stepped forward as it turned physical but hang back, watching, as Jonathan looks in control.

"Look at you, suddenly you're tough in front of the girl?" Lonnie scoffs.

"Fuck off," Jonathan spits out, pushing Lonnie away.

"But I know you. Once a coward, always a coward. Shit, you went to 'Nam but didn't bring a gun, but a damn camera. Because you're a coward," Lonnie mockingly throws back.

"You think a gun makes you tough? Christ, you're pathetic," She throws back at Lonnie. "He went into a war zone unarmed. He didn't blink, staring down the barrel of a gun to protect me. That's real toughness," she lays it out. She hears Rachel, Anne, Eddie and several other co-workers near draw in sharp intakes of breath and she realizes then that they never told their colleagues about that bit before.

Lonnie scoffs but and searches for a comeback. Katie returns with Harold and Louis from security. The two large men stride up towards them.

"Him, take him out. Don't ever let him in again," she tells them, pointing at Lonnie.

"Yes ma'am," Louis answers while he and Harold both clasp down a large hand each on Lonnie's shoulders before grabbing an arm each with the other, forcibly leading him out the door.

"Nice seeing you, son," Lonnie sarcastically throws out as parting words as he's dragged off.

"Go to hell," she throws back.

She reaches out for Jonathan's hand. He clasps it tightly and looks at her.

"You okay?" He whispers.

"Yes, are you?" She whispers back, tucking herself into his side and wrapping her arm around his back.

"Yes," he nods.

"Oh my God I am so sorry," Katie steps forward looking guilty.

"It's okay. You didn't know," Jonathan says. She nods in agreement and Katie seems to breathe out, relaxing a little. Others come up to them and starts offering sympathies and the like. They nod and thank them but quickly excuse themselves to get out of there. She just wants to take Jonathan home, get him away from all the people. They're well-meaning, but knowing him – which she gotta say she does pretty well at this point – he wants privacy. They need to talk about this alone, in peace.

They take the subway home and pick up a pizza on the way. She never lets go of his hand. They settle on the couch with their pizza, she sits down next to him and he raises his arm right away so she smiles and tucks herself into his side. He puts his arm around her, holding her close. She offers him a slice before taking one herself.

"How do you feel?" She asks.

"I can't believe he just showed up like that."

"Yeah."

"After all these years, just like that. Soon as I get some money to my name he rolls in and acts like... like that."

"I know."

"So transparent and..."

"Dumb," she finishes for him.

"Yeah," he agrees. "Did he seriously think he could just waltz in like... like nothing's happened?"

"He's a leech. An evil leech."

"Yeah. I hate him."

"Me too. I wish I could've hit him with something. He should go to hell," she says firmly.

"I love you," he replies with a small smile.

"I love you too," she answers.

"Wish everyone hadn't been there to see it..." he pensively continues.

"I know."

"Now everyone's gonna think that I'm-"

"An amazing guy with a piece of shit father."

He looks at her quizzically.

"You-"

"That's what they think," she interrupts again, insisting. "I wish he hadn't been there. I wish it hadn't been so public. He's a piece of shit. But that shouldn't be something for you to be ashamed of. So you have a piece of shit father and now they all know that. Do you think they all got dandy fathers in their lives? And they'll still see you the same way they did. That you're an amazing guy, an awesome photographer and great co-worker. It'll still be that, plus then the addage that you're all that in spite of growing up with that asshole as father, which just makes you more amazing!" She finishes, determined to get him to see what an amazing guy he is.

He's staring at her. He suddenly leans down and plants a big kiss on her cheek.

"You had some sauce on your face. That's what I was gonna say. I got it though, don't worry," he smirks when he pulls back.

"Oh."

"Thank you, though," he smiles and kisses her again, on the lips this time. "You... you really think so?" He then asks in a more serious tone.

"I know so. Do you know what Maggie, Rachel, Anne, Kristy and Liz all said to me after they had met you?"

"No?"
"'Hold onto him Nancy, he's a keeper!' or variants there of."

That makes him blush.

"And last fall I overheard Mr. Bradley tell Mr. Norman that you were the best recruit for the photo division they've done in this decade."

"How did you hear that?"

"I'm an intrepid reporter, I hear everything and have countless ways of gathering information," she tells him with confidence.

"Of course," he chuckles. "But...?"

"Okay, I heard that because I snuck into the breakroom to snag one of the cupcakes Debbie brought in before they were all gone and they were talking in the corridor outside and didn't know I was there," she admits.

"Hey why didn't you grab two?" He jokingly pouts.

"I would have but you were out shooting with Arnie that day."

"Ah."

"But anyway... seriously, Jonathan. Yeah it sucks this happened, and so publicly. But you're awesome and everyone knows that and this doesn't change that."

Slowly, he nods.

"Thanks. Thank you for what you did today," he tells her.

"I'd do it all over again, every time. Maybe kick him in the balls too though."

A few days later they're in the Oscar Wilde Memorial Bookshop on Mercer Street, looking for a birthday present for Will. She's leafing through Isherwood's A Single Man. Jonathan's searching the poetry section.

"Well what does the child like to read?" Anthony, a friend of theirs who works in the shop calls over from where he's stocking the new releases section.

"He's not a kid anymore, he turns 20, Anthony," Jonathan shakes his head. "And well, Tolkien and comic books but a lot of different stuff too."

"Oh, I love comic books!" Anthony exclaims. "They're drawn so wonderfully generous. You know I tried to convince Mark that we should do Batman and Robin as a couples costume for the Halloween last year but that crank wouldn't do it."

"Who would've been who?" She asks.

"Darling please, Mark would've been Robin of course," Anthony answers.

"Of course," she smiles.

"So what did you end up going as?" Jonathan asks.

"He went as Judy Garland and I had to throw together a Warhol costume at the last minute," Anthony sighs. "Ugh, anyway. Has the boy read Capote?"

"No, don't think so," Jonathan answers.

"What?! God I don't understand gay kids these days," Anthony throws his hands in the air and hurries off to another shelf, returning with a copy of Other Voices, Other Rooms. "Let's start him off with this one. It's good, and quite sweet. It doesn't have a downer ending, I can't stand it when they end all the gay books with one. It's like God if I wanted to be depressed I'd live in the real world," Anthony says, holding out to Jonathan.

"Sounds great, thanks," Jonathan smiles as they head over to the register.

"Give him my best. And you got to bring him out here soon! Imagine being gay and stuck in the Midwest!" Anthony continues as he rings up the book.

"Aren't you from Ohio?" She asks.

"Yes so I know what I'm talking about!"

"Sure, well he's coming out here later in the spring or the summer I think," Jonathan informs Anthony.

"That's nice. Hey, what are you two doing tonight? Mark and I are going to-" Anthony starts but she doesn't hear the rest of the sentence, distracted by what she sees outside the shop window as she happens to glance through it. Or who, rather.

"Isn't that..." she trails off, hurrying to open the door and lean out of it to look further down the street to see if the figure who walked past really is who she looked like.

"Nancy?" Jonathan comes over to her.

Visual sighting confirmed. She ducks her head back inside.

"We have to go! Bye Anthony!" She quickly calls and pulls Jonathan with her. He throws a quick goodbye over his shoulder to the puzzled Anthony and follows.

"See the blonde? With the burgundy pants," she asks him and nods as she leads him with her to follow the person from a safe distance.

"Yeah."

"It's the hippie girl! In Kali's group," she explains. They've taken to simply call them that since that's all they really know.

"Oh, it is," Jonathan nods, stuffing the book away in his messenger bag.

"I just wanna see where she goes, maybe she's meeting the others," she tells him.

Jonathan nods. The girl has turned left onto 8th Street and they follow, careful to keep their distance. She then turns onto 5th Avenue for two blocks before heading west on 10th Street. This peeks her interest further, because she happens to know from a source that the Weathermen secretly uses a townhouse just around the corner as a safe house. The Village is full of artists, writers, hippies, drifters and general anti-establishment folk. The likelihood of the mysterious protest group being here too is good.

Finally the girl stops by an abandoned threestorey apartment building and walks right in. They stand on the sidewalk for a minute.

"Should we..." she suggests. She wants to go inside. See what's up.

"I think so," Jonathan nods.

"I bet the others are there. Key is we just go in calmly, make clear we're not there to confront them, we're just curious."

He nods.

In the lobby of the derelict building the walls are covered with graffiti and there's a distinct odor of urine. There's newspapers strewn in a corner, looking like a hobo might sleep there in the night but right now it's empty. They listen but can't hear a sound. Quietly they climb the first flight of stairs, careful not to make much noise. The first floor seems deserted. No light, no sounds. Old eviction notices is still on some doors. Presumably the building is set for demolition but has been caught in bureaucracy hell. Suddenly there's a sound, a thud, coming from the floor above. Breaking the crushing silence. They sneak up another flight of stairs. The second floor hallway is lit and there's one door ajar. She looks to Jonathan. He looks at her. He nods. Quietly they walk down the hallway. Listens. She can't hear anything. She knocks on the open door and waits. No response. They step inside.

It's dark inside the apartment. It's empty, apart from litter on the floor. Graffiti covers the walls here too. With Jonathan right behind her she continues into the next room. It's dark and empty as well but she can make out the contours of some objects along the wall, just not quite what it is yet.

Then things happen quickly. Suddenly out of nowhere someone grabs Jonathan from behind.

"Hey! Let him go!" She protests and kicks at the large figure. She gets in some hits before someone grabs her from behind too, locking her arms behind her back with the same vice grip the other person's got Jonathan. "Hey! Shit! Take it easy," she continues to protest.

Someone flips the switch and the bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling illuminates the room. The girl known as Kali stands in front of her. Behind her stands the young girl with curly hair, the hippie they followed here and the leather jacket-wearing white guy. She looks to her right, to Jonathan who's trying to get loose but the black man holding him is much bigger and got him in a good grip.

"Who are you?" Kali spits out.

"Shit, relax. Let us go, we come in peace and all that," she answers.

"Who are you?" Kali repeats the question.

"They're narcs, I can smell a narc a million miles away," the leather jacket guy throws out.

"We're not fucking narcs," she rolls her eyes. "We're journalists."

Kali looks her over, skeptically. Steps forward and rips her purse off her and empties its contents on the ground. Keys, wallet, pens, pad, gum, tampons and all the rest tumbles out on the floor. Including her press pass which catches Kali's interest.

"Nancy Wheeler, reporter New York Times," she reads off it.

"Yes," she says. "Can you let us go now?"

Kali looks at her. Then looks at Jonathan. Steps towards him and takes his messenger bag. Then halts when she discovers the ever-present camera slung over his other shoulder and hastily takes that away from him too.

"Hey careful with that," she protests. Kali hands it over to the young girl who looks it over curiously.

Kali empties out Jonathan's bag on the floor too. His press pass tumbles out too along with keys, wallet, random photos of her or the two of them together that he's taken, Other Voices, Other Rooms and other assorted things.

"Jonathan Byers, photographer, New York Times," she reads off Jonathan's press pass.

"Yes, so can we all calm down?" She tries.

Kali steps towards Jonathan again and puts her hands to his chest, feeling around. She rips open his shirt, the top buttons coming off. Jonathan squirms as she feels around more.

"Hey!" She protests.

"He's not wearing a wire," Kali mutters and nods to the black guy who lets go of Jonathan. Then Kali turns to her, shoving her hands up under her sweater and feeling around over her chest.

"Okay, she's clean too. You can let her go Mick," she then nods to the girl holding her and finally she's free.

"Jesus," she mumbles while bending down to quickly gather her things and throwing them in her purse again. Jonathan corrals his things but doesn't get his camera back, yet. This girl is either followed by the CIA and the KGB or she's completely paranoid. She's leaning towards the latter.

"Who are you, how did you find this place and why are you here?" Kali demands, crossing her arms over her chest.

She stands up, instinctively drawing closer to Jonathan.

"You know who we are," she begins answering. "We recognized her on the street and followed her here," she continues, pointing at the hippie chick. "And we're curious about you," she finishes.

"Why?" Kali challenges.

"We've covered the war from the inside. Now we're covering the anti-war movement from the inside. You guys are at every protest all over the place. So we're interested in you. Just like we're interested in the Weathermen, Black Panthers, WILPF, Veterans Against War, SDS and all the rest. But you've proved more evasive than all the others combined. We're interested in hearing you out. Hearing your cause, your motivations, your goals."

Kali scoffs.

"That's all," she shrugs. She glances around the room. It lacks furniture. There's some guns laying around. Boxes of ammunition in the corner. A typewriter by one wall, stacks of paper next to it. "If you'd want to get your word out... you could have your say through us," she suggests, motioning to the typewriter.

"I don't trust you. I don't trust reporters," Kali says.

"Okay," she answers.

"Kali," the young girl quietly says.

"Yes Jane?" Kali answers, turning around and huddling close to the girl who whispers something to her while looking at them. Kali listens, nods, responds, listens some more and then comes over to them again.

"March 14th massacre. That was you."

"Yes," she confirms.

"So you've won yourself a fancy prize. Is that why you went to 'Nam?"

"No."

"Why then?" Kali challenges.

"To get the truth," she honestly answers.

Kali scoffs and rolls her eyes.

"Give me the real answer, not some naïve idealistic little journalism school motto."

"That is my real answer," she throws back.

"Okay then Princess. Why did you come home then?"

Ignoring the namecalling, which gives her mild high school flashbacks of Carol, she answers truthfully again.

"Because I got it."

"Oh yeah? Well then, what is the truth? Enlighten us please," Kali mocks. Some of the others laugh but she notices the young girl doesn't, instead staying silent and watching her carefully.

"That it's a thousand times worse than you think. I was gonna say it'll end in disaster but it's really been an ongoing disaster from the start and they know it but it also means they won't stop. Which is it's own disaster."

"Okay then. Nancy Wheeler, reporter in search of the truth. With her trusty lapdog," Kali glances to Jonathan. She has to keep herself from giving her earful, the attitude is grating but damnit, this girl is a story. "What brings you here, truthseeker?"

"The world is changing, people are changing. I want to find out the future and the future is happening here."

"Hm..." Kali draws it out, like she's considering her words. "Admirable. But real talk now. What do you know about us?"

"That your name is Kali. And that her name is Mick, and her name is Jane. That you're everywhere. That you're armed. That you're writing something, which tells me you've got something you want to say to the world and I think it'd be easier for you to get it out there through us. And that you're either extremely careful for good reason or you're paranoid."

"That's all you've got? And you're supposed to be an awardwinning journalist?" Kali continues to mock her, trying to get a rise out of her. She won't bite.

"You're good at hiding," she shrugs.

"You keep flattering me. Is that lesson number 1 at journalism school?"

"Actually it's the second lesson. First one is all about punctuation and grammar. Rather boring."

That almost draws a chuckle from Kali but the woman composes herself quickly and returns to her serious demeanor.

"So that's all you know?"

"Yes."

"Good. Then get out," Kali tells them in a steely voice.

She thinks for a moment, considering her next move but those thoughts are put to rest when everyone but the girl called Jane brandishes guns and points them in their direction. Jane throws Jonathan's camera back to him and he instinctively catches it.

"We're going, jeez," she tells them, backing out of the room with Jonathan right behind her. "Call me if you want. All publicity is good publicity," she calls back when they're out in the hall.

Out on the street again they look back. No one's followed them out.

"You okay?" Jonathan asks.

"Yeah, you?" She answers, tucking herself into his side. He puts an arm around her.

"Yeah. We're not done with those guys, are we?"

"No. It just got interesting."