She lied.

She had only ever lied to the Bureau for one person before (Jane, that stupid son of a bitch), so it felt strange now to do it for herself.

"Has she been in contact with you?"

"You mean have I had contact with a wanted felon without notifying my superiors? No, I have not."

Jane told her once that people who were lying were less likely to use contractions in their sentences. As she walked away she couldn't help but admit that he was right yet again.

:::

The call had come at almost three, rousing her from a restless sleep. She didn't recognize the number, but she picked up anyway, muttering a bleary, "Hello?"

"Teresa?" The voice jerked her awake, the shock quite literally pulling her up into a sitting position.

"Boss?"

"Please, just listen. I need you to meet me somewhere."

Teresa got dressed in the dark.

:::

She parked on a side street just inside the barricade and walked the rest of the way, shivering in the night air. She'd forgotten to bring a coat. Hightower was waiting for her on the grass by the highway. When she stretched out her arms, Teresa slipped into them without even thinking.

"Just tell me you didn't do what they're saying you did," she murmured, her fingers clenching and bunching the fabric of Hightower's jacket.

"I didn't. I can't tell you any more than that, but I can promise you I am innocent." Hightower took a step back, held Teresa's face in her hands. "I just wanted you to know that I'm alright."

Back in her car, Teresa laid her head on the steering wheel and brushed her cheek with a trembling finger. Why had she even come?