Author's Note: This is based a bit off real life, so please don't tell Sarah I used her name ;)

[*]

I was walking my dog. That's when it all began. Honestly, as stunning as it was, as much as my life has changed because of it, part of me wishes Sarah (my schitzu) hadn't chosen to walk into that particular part of the docks.

I heard voices around the corner as Sarah pulled me along a dark blue warehouse. I didn't expect to see anything interesting, maybe some dockworkers loading a barge, but my instincts (trained from twenty-five years of spy movies) encouraged me to pull back on Sarah's leash and peek into the building.

What I did see shocked me to my core. A young blonde woman, who looked to be around my age, was standing behind a table, hands cuffed behind her back. A black man was sitting next to her, not cuffed, but looking similarly trapped by the four burly men who stood behind the pair. In front of the table, right side toward me, was a rather short man in a posh suit. He was the one I'd heard: he was ranting angrily to a group of three people, two men and a woman.

One of the men seemed to be the leader. He was the tallest of the three, with black hair and blue eyes that were shining in the bit of summer sunlight the penetrated the ominous shadows of the warehouse. He stood at the front of the group, and the other two backed him up.

The woman was standing closer to him. She was wearing a deep purple dress, a bit too tight-fitting for the docks, I supposed, but I was looking more at her face. Her eyes were wide and worried; her face was composed and calm, but fear and anger kept slipping through, like she was trying to hide them and failing.

The third man was standing one the other side of the leader. His long brown hair was puffy and covered part of his face, but I could see the anger set into his expression like stone. He had blue eyes as well, but instead of glinting like the first man's, his were flinty, burning directly at the suited man.

Obviously, I was concerned. I didn't know what was happening, but I was afraid all the same. Those men were standing far too close to the thin blonde and the black man to be friendly, and I saw that they were holding guns. I reached into my purse to call the police, but I realized I would have no idea what to say. What if this was nothing, what if I would be overreacting? It was none of my business anyway, I was really just a bystander, right? I tried to convince myself to leave, but the black-haired man started to speak. Frightened, but intrigued, I quickly tied Sarah up behind a dumpster and crept into the warehouse, hiding behind cargo boxes, until I was close enough that I could hear him speak.

"Let them go, Sterling," the man was saying. "They've done nothing to you."

"I'd have to disagree with you there, Nate," the man called 'Sterling' said in an English accent. "Parker here owes me quite a bit. I'd say those paintings she stole in Paris, 2004 were worth quite a pretty penny. And it was my job to retrieve them." He turned to the table and motioned at one of the burly men. The man grabbed the blonde by her hair and slammed her head into the table. I gasped, shocked by the scene, but my breath was covered up by the cry from the brunette woman.

The black man had stood up and was aiming a weak punch at the man who'd hit 'Parker,' but two of the other men manhandled him back into his seat.

"What do you want from us, Sterling?" Nate asked, his voice hard and staccato. Something about that tone scared me more than the four strong men.

"I've already got what I want," the Englishman grinned viciously. "I don't even care about your little 'team' anymore. Something tells me you've stolen your last miracle."

Nate shook his head. "What are you talking about, Sterling? What have you done?" He shouted the last, and I understood why. The absolute surety in Sterling's last statement was pretty foreboding, and even though I had no idea who these people were, I felt a knot of fear in my chest.

Sterling just smiled again, and stuck his hand into his coat. I tensed up. All the movies I'd seen told me this was when the bad guy pulled the gun, and the heroes were caught. Even though Sterling had referenced Nate stealing, I knew who the heroes were here, and it wasn't the Englishman with glee in his eyes.

Instead of a gun, however, Sterling pulled out a package, as big as a book, covered in brown paper. I craned my neck over a crate to see what it was, but I couldn't identify it. I nearly gasped again when Sterling tossed it through the air and it was caught by the long-haired man.

"Eliot?" the brunette gasped. "You got Parker and Hardison caught?"

Eliot shook his head. "Naw. I got Parker caught, Hardison just walked right into it." He turned away from the openly shocked brunette and the blue lasers of Nate's eyes, and looked to Sterling. "See ya never?"

Sterling grimaced. "Like I'd make the effort. Goodbye forever, Eliot Spencer. Thanks for your help," he threw over his shoulder as he walked to the table.

"Let them go." The four men obeyed Sterling's command and started undoing Parker's cuffs. I wasn't watching this, though, as my attention was focused on the long-haired man who was about to walk right past me. For a moment, I was afraid he'd see me, but his eyes were focused straight ahead of him and there was an expression on his face so complex I couldn't identify it. He never looked back.

When I peeked over to the others again, I was surprised to see that the four men and Sterling had already gone. The brunette was hugging Parker anxiously and checking her rapidly bruising forehead, making concerned and reassuring noises as she did so. Nate had clasped Hardison's shoulder, but they weren't looking at each other or talking like the women were. Instead, they stared at the entrance to the warehouse where Eliot had exited.

I don't know what told me it was the right thing to do, but something inside spurred me to action. I stepped out of my hiding space and slowly made my way over to the remaining four people, drawing all their eyes.

"Do you guys need anything?" I asked, unsure. What if Eliot and Sterling had been the good guys and I was helping the criminals?

There were a few moments of silence, where the other three all looked to Nate. He studied me carefully. "What's your name?" He asked, blue eyes searching.

"Tara Cole."

He nods, as though I said the right answer and grimly smiles without warmth.

"Well Tara Cole, let's go steal ourselves a miracle."