Joe had run like he had never run before to reach the van and had barely had time to catch his breath as they filled the fan before it became clear that extra guns were needed to hold off the guards. Pulling his .45 from it’s holster he smiled briefly at Gracie who was still in the van as she should be before running to the back of the van and peeking around the corner. Seeing an onslaught of men coming at them he pointed his gun in their general direction and began squeezing off shots as fast as he could – he honestly wasn’t’ sure if he was hitting anyone but he would occasionally see someone fall as he pulled his trigger so he thought he might be.

Just as he thought that he might actually make it out of this mission in one piece a fire erupted in his left arm as a bullet ripped into his shoulder and forced him to the ground. Pain clouded his vision as tried to focus enough to fire the last few bullets in his gun. He felt strong arms grab him and drag him to the relative safety of the area behind the van and though he tried valiantly to focus his vision was blurring slightly. Looking down at his shoulder he saw that it was a shattered mess with blood pouring out of the wound. Forcing himself into a sitting position he slid his way to the door of the van and giving Gracie as cheeky a grin as he could said, “I think I might need your help” before passing out.

Kathryn had mostly cleared her eyes by the time Tacky killed Moreau- ended him before slumping over and joining him in the next life. Kathryn looked down at Moreau for what felt like a long time, even as she saw Merci reach down and close Tacky's eyes. She silently cursed to herself as she continued to blink and clear her field of vision. She knew she wasn't blind- even there in Moreau's office she could see a blurry world taking shape around her- but she wasn't exactly functioning.

She reached over and rested a hand on Tacky's shoulder, patting him a couple times before Merci grabbed her and pulled her to her feet. Kathryn stuck a hand in Merci's belt, letting her friend guide her along through the mansion, shooting down guards as they went. Kathryn had jammed her gun in her jacket and continued wiping her eyes with her free hand, trying to ignore the gunshots ringing in her ears.

She could mostly see- and was rapidly getting frustrated with the situation, as Merci tossed her into the van like a piece of meat. See looked out and saw Team I emerging from the building, shooting.

There were two problems, as far as she could tell. One is that Merci was walking towards a bunch of bodyguards- a few new cars had just screeched to a halt outside the grounds. The second is that their driver was dead. Kathryn grabbed The_Courier by the shoulder, since he looked like he was about to charge out- perhaps after Merci- and shook her head.

"Everybody in the back of the van, NOW!"

She spared a single look towards Joe_Scalise, who'd passed out near Gracie, before she looked at Jack and tilted her head toward the front of the van. This was her mission, and she wasn't going to ask anyone else to take more of a risk. Well, maybe Jack. But he'd follow her anywhere.

"Finn, make sure everyone in Team O is inside; D, do the same for Team I. Jack, you're driving- I'll cover. Now."

As Finn and Decypha waved people into the van, Kathryn and Jack sprinted around to the front and threw themselves inside. Kathryn was in the passenger seat, while Jack was driving. Half-panicking and cursing what seemed like Merci's occasional suicidal tendencies, Kathryn looked out to where Merci was standing alone- fortunately, there was still a long distance between her and the enemies, but sooner or later a lucky or well placed shot would take her down.

They heard the back doors of the van slam shut, with everyone crammed inside. Jack floored the gas as soon as he heard the door, sending the van flying towards Merci across the grounds. Kathryn silently cursed him for turning the van to the right... he was opening his own door for Merci to get in, and not having Merci come in on Kathryn's side, no doubt for her own protection. Still, it wasn't exactly safe as the van screeched to a halt and Jack threw his door open, sticking his pistol outside the car and firing a few shots of his own.

Jack and Kathryn both yelled to get Merci's attention; Jack started to leave the car and she grabbed his arm. Merci could get in by throwing herself over Jack; the soon the door was closed and they were driving, the better. And Kathryn suspected that if Jack left the car to get Merci, she might lose one of her closest friends. She just didn't know which one. Or if it would be both.

"Merci! Get in!"

Merci is oblivious to what's going on behind her as she continues fanning out gunfire across the lawn. A stray round whizzed past her cheek, grazing it slightly. She had enough time to grin at the thought of each cheek now sporting a small scar from various Moreau attacks before another bullet hit home, coming to rest in her upper thigh and spun her down.

Merci hit the ground and, for a moment, Jack and Kathryn just stared- at Merci and at the approaching guards. It was, in many ways, a death sentence. The bodyguards who'd just pulled up were still far away- but they were getting closer- and their shots were getting more accurate. As soon as Merci dropped to the ground, Kathryn shouted.

"I'll go get her- get ready to pull around."

"No."

Even with Merci in danger, even with gunshots ringing out and pinging against the bulletproofed van that was Tacky's legacy, Kathyn's mouth dropped open. Jack had never refused her, not since she was a teenager and her father had hired him. She was about to curse at him when she noticed the look on his face. He looked... sad. But there was an unmistakable depth of emotion as Jack looked into Kathryn's eyes. Love- from a surrogate father, and the only one she had left. Her own face assumed a confused expression as her mouth opened to question him.

And then Jack, drawing on decades of fighting experience, punched Kathryn in the jaw and knocked her out in a single punch.

He moved quickly after that, leaving the van and closing the door behind him as he ran over to Merci. He shot a few more rounds as he ran, but soon he was empty, and he simply tossed his gun aside. Merci was shouting, but Jack wasn't listening. He leaned down and, with a strength that belied his age, lifted Merci into his arms and began to walk towards the van.

It was slow going, but still faster than dragging her. Jack set his eyes on the door as Merci stretched her arm out and fired behind them.

Then there was a thud. Jack stumbled, nearly dropping her, but regained his balance and kept walking, albeit slower. A second thud, and he halted. Then he started trudging the last ten feet or so, as the sound of bullets hitting the van prevented anything else from being heard.

Jack placed Merci down quickly, where she opened the driver's door and stood on one leg. Jack took her gun from her as she climbed inside.

Merci had slid over to let Jack get in the driver's seat- and Jack could hear her concerned shout at finding Kathryn slumped over in the passenger seat. Jack interrupted her.

"She's fine. Tell her I'm sorry. Tell her- whatever. She knows. Take care of her, Merci- drive."

Jack slammed the door and, as he turned and raised the automatic he'd taken, Merci could see a half dozen bullet holes on the back of his jacket where he'd been hit. He dropped to his knees, his strength finally spent, as he sent a few more shots toward the gate. He then fell forward onto his face- and moved no more.

Merci sits sideways in the seat and mashes the gas pedal with her left foot, accelerating down the driveway and mowing down two more assailants in the process. It's an ugly, hair-raising trip to the airport as she blows through stop lights and at one point, the wrong way down a one-way street. She can hear the crew in the back yelling, but their words were lost to her as she glanced repeatedly at an unconscious Kathryn in the passenger seat, a large bruise blossoming on her jaw. 

Jack. Jack. Jack.

As she pulled up to the private terminal, she slammed the van into park and opened her door...only to fall to the pavement, her thigh wound leaving an ugly blood trail on the seat behind her.

"Plane," she croaks out through a suddenly dry throat. 

She had been huddled in the van occasionally leaning out the door and shooting when someone got too close to her, or there was a clear shot. She was nearly out of bullets, and her arm was exhausted. She saw the doors open and Joe and Curry come out with the others and felt her heart speed up slightly. "He's going to get himself killed." she muttered to herself as she tracked him with her eyes. He smiled at her and she tried to return it, but the worry was not letting her do that. She lost track of him, so instead of focusing on what he was doing she raised her gun yet again and shot another man in the shoulder. Moments had passed and Joe came back to her, she opened her mouth to speak and that's when she saw the blood. 

She helped him into the van and laid him down. She bit her lower lip to keep from crying and started to get to work, removing the arm of his coat and shirt so she could get to the wound. Chaos was happening around her, but she was completely focused on making sure that Joe was going to be ok. The Van started moving and she nearly slipped, causing another cut on Joe's arm, "Hey! Careful!" she shouted to whoever was at the wheel, before she managed to get the bullet out. "It's not the best work," she told the unconscious man, "But we'll fix that later," she told him as she started stitching up the wound just so he'd stop losing blood. When she was done she set her needle to the side and picked up the man's hand, tracing the lines on his palm with her fingers. "Anyone else need help right now?" She asked the people in the van, her eyes never leaving Joe's face. 

As the van came to a stop Joe was jolted back to consciousness by the shot of pain that ripped through him. Groaning slightly he looked around and saw a number of his crew mates looking grim before his eyes landed on Gracie. As the memory of the bullet hitting him came back he grimaced and then smiled up slightly at Gracie. 

"Well, it seems I owe you one."

Joe tried to stand before his head began to spin and he settled for simply sitting up and leaning back against the front seats of the van. 

"I think I might need a hand to get to the plane."

Gracie put her hand on Joe's good shoulder and looked at his face, "No fucking heroics, please." she told him. Looking around at the faces in the van she sighed. They were tired, worn down and splattered in blood and lord knows what else. And here she was relatively ok, so it was probably on her to take charge. She moved to the side of the van and opened the door. "Alright, we're not out of this thing yet," she shouted at them all, hoping to get their attention. "If you're wounded, let me know once we're on the plane and I will do what I can." she looked at her friends and swallowed hard, "If you can help those who are going to struggle up the steps, now is a good time to be off assistance," she added before taking Joe's hand and pulling him to his feet and out onto the tarmac. Placing his good arm around her shoulder's she whispered, "Come on, sweetheart, just a little bit further and you can rest." before heading up the stairs and onto the plane. 

Once he was sitting in a seat she brushed a kiss against his brow and headed back down the stairs, a few people were still sat in the van so she put her hands on her hips and in frustration yelled, "I said fucking move it!" which caused them to jump and get a move on towards the plane. She scrambled into the back of the van grabbing her things so they wouldn't get left behind. Once she had everything she looked around to make sure no one had forgotten anything and with a satisfied nod headed back into the plane to check on everyone. 

Kathryn woke up to some one shaking her shoulder. She blinked, startled, as everything came rushing back to her. Moreau's office. Tacky's death. The move to the van. Kathryn reached up and rubbed her eyes, still burning but apparently functioning. Then there was Merci out alone. Kathryn was going to get her- but Merci must be okay, because she was standing next to her. The last thing Kathryn remembered was looking at the gate and then- blackness. She quickly stuck her head out the door and saw her people quickly boarding the plane. 

Kathryn looked down, checking herself for a bullet hole like the one Merci apparently had in her leg; her RHM had opened the passenger side door and was leaning against it for support.

"What happened? Was I hit?"

A sad smile crept across Merci's lips as a tear slid down her cheek. 

"You know what, we're gonna be just fucking fine, Kathryn, no matter what. You remember that, no matter what. Just fine," she says, as Curry and Decypha jog to the van and scoop them up like useless, lifeless dolls. 

"Fine! Just fine," Merci calls out, her face buried in Curry's shoulder as her body is wracked with sobs.

Kathryn's face fell and her eyes went wide as she looked around, counting faces. They'd both cared for Tacky- he was one of the family- but who could make Merci break down like that? Curry was standing right there, Charlie was back in Vegas, and...

Kathryn's head jerked around, locking eyes with Finn- who immediately dropped his to the ground.

Oh God. 

On the flight home, Kathryn climbed into the cockpit and curled up in the chair off to the side, away from everyone else, numbly staring out at the sky. Moreau was dead and his threat had been ended- but this didn't feel like a victory.

It was a long flight back to Vegas.