5 Years Ago

The smell of daisies and aftershave vanished as I left the Virginian mountains to step foot in the busy streets of Boston. I sucked in a deep, much-needed breath. The spring air was cooler up north and perfumed with mist, clinging to my skin like morning dew. While some part of me was dazed by the long bus ride and still bothered by my break-up with a Russian God, I shoved that bleariness aside. I had to be alert. Most of all, I had to be put together, for Lissa's sake. The nazar still burned in my pocket, but so did the chotki on my wrist. They were reminders of the most important people in my life. Dimitri and Lissa.

Maybe that's how it would always go. Maybe I would always have to choose between them.

I had already made my decision, though. For now, there was no turning back. "Better get moving then, Rose," I muttered to myself. Still lugging my suitcase, I skipped rekindling with my college apartment and headed straight for the familiar, ivy-laced townhouse on Third Street.

Lissa hadn't left Avery's doorstep. It had been a week since she called me with the news, but she seemed unable to drag herself away from her sister's crime scene, the yellow police tape hanging in ribbons behind her. There was a haunted, dazed air to her, her eyes unfocused and not noticing me until I was standing right in front of the three-step staircase. When she saw me, she was startled, blinking a few times like she expected me to turn into smoke. Luckily for both of us, I didn't. Her hand flew to her mouth. While I'd said I was coming "soon" she clearly hadn't expected this soon. I hadn't seen her in months; she probably thought she was seeing a phantom.

And I have to say, I'd be lying if I didn't feel the same. Still, I managed to conjure up my best, crooked grin in greeting. That was all it took. The incredulity melted and Lissa stood long enough to throw her arms around my neck, already choking on sobs. At first, I thought it was about Avery. Then she said, "I knew it. I knew you'd come back."

"Of course I came back," I murmured into her shoulder. "I promised I would." It all seemed surreal. My best friend. I had my best friend back. If I had her, I could recover from the heartbreak from Dimitri. It strengthened my resolve and helped affirm that I'd done the right thing by dropping out of the academy to return home. I could go on with my life, even if I was leaving a crucial piece behind. Even if I didn't fully want to.

As she pulled back, I saw the toll her sister's death was taking on her. Dark rings were etched under her green eyes and her normally pristine hair hung limp. "Christ Liss, how long have you been here? Doesn't that gig behind you have a shower and running water?"

Though she smiled slightly at the old nickname and my trademark humor, it slipped just as quickly as it had appeared. Something seemed to dawn on her, contradicting my questions with her own. "Oh God, how did you get here? I thought your headmistress was, like, your Christian Orthodox jailer."

Ah, Kirova. We'd never been chummy, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy seeing her startled visage when I turned in my resignation papers. Our argumental bitching and lecturing sessions aside, she had been aghast at me dropping out when I was "the best of the best". Yeah. I really took a smug satisfaction in that one. Too bad that reasoning hadn't gotten me out of suspension when I'd accidentally snapped Jesse Zeklos's wrist in the fall during practice.

Mulling it over for a minute, I decided talk of bailing out of my career and breaking limbs probably wasn't going to lighten Lissa's mood. Better not to open that Pandora's Box for now. I shook my head, my dark ponytail clocking behind me. "That's not important. Come on, let's get inside. Even without the jet lag, I have to stretch my legs."

I could see she wanted to press more, but exhaustion waned her off the dwindling subject. It really didn't matter, anyway. We both knew I'd fight tooth and nail if I really wanted to get back home. Wiping her last tears away, she trailed up the staircase. Although it felt like there were a million words to be said between us, we remained quiet as we entered the solemn house.

The police tape outside had been right to ward off civilians and the weak-stomached. The town house screamed Criminal Minds. Even though Avery had been removed and the police had combed through the area, the cleaning crew hadn't, and months of FBI training didn't stop my stomach from rolling as I entered the living room. Dry blood stuck to the carpet in hardened, almost-black patches, death permanently staining the white floor. There were signs of a struggle sprinkled throughout the premises, while reports, files boxes, and gruesome photos from the murder scattered the table we used to drink coffee at. All of it was a distant memory now. With the pressing, eerie air of the room, the echos of those days were barely palpable. They'd become ghosts, like Avery.

Both of our gazes averted from the blood spills, and I found myself meandering to the coffee table instead, leafing through the files. It wasn't pretty, but it was a distraction, and one that let my cryptic, detective reasoning shine through at that. No amount of distraction could completely banish my humanity, though. I knew I'd break down if I caught sight of her corpse. Careful to shuffle those photos away, I stuck to the medical examiner's report to fill me in on what I needed to know.

Avery Dragomir. 22 Years. Caucasian. Female. HCL3 Brown Hair. OCH2 Blue Eyes.

Cause of Death: Blood Loss/Blunt Force Trauma. Homicide.

Time of death roughly 22:30. Victim killed in home. No sign of break-in. No witnesses. No murder weapon found. Found 8:23 next morning by family friend. Autoposy performed 14:54.

Lacerations on hands, scrapes on right arm, and bruising around neck show signs of struggle. Skin samples under fingernails inconclusive. No further DNA samples. Bruising around neck shows cause for delayed airway obstruction, and explains thyroid and cricoid cartilage fractures. Strangulation was temporary, however, and not the cause of death, most likely used to incapacitate victim. Severe blunt force trauma to the left side of cranium fully incapacitated victim. Bled out 7-10 minutes after infliction.

My gut wrenched, sickened. I closed the folder. Still trying to keep the tone light in this suffocating aura to keep up my lofty reputation, I commented to Lissa, "I see you set up camp here, General." It explained why she still hung around this Magic Treehouse, with or without running water.

Lissa was in medical school, but with her stellar grades, she had all but been guaranteed a spot as an ME in the Boston Homicide unit. I knew she worked on cases here and there in preparation, but I couldn't imagine they would happily hand over their entire evidence surplus. She walked over to the wall near the table, sitting in the window seat. While we still said little, we stuck close, needing the comfort of another human being. The afternoon light made her curtain of pale, blonde hair look like a mix of a bridal veil and halo. Even her heavenly appearance couldn't mask the semi-sheepish glint in her eyes, however. "Actually, they won't let me on the case, let alone near it," she admitted.

I arched an eyebrow. I had to admit, I was surprised. I wasn't going to complain about her possibly breaking the law, though. Far from it. From my perspective, it was healthy outbranching, even if her superiors would disagree. "You have, like, the entire department here."

"Mia... pulled a couple strings."

"Is that the detective you were telling me about?"

Lissa nodded. From the rumors she'd leaked over the phone in my absence of the homicide unit, Mia Rinaldi was one of the members I held in high regards. According to Lissa, Mia was a small but fiery detective, not afraid to push for what she believed. She sounded like a splitting image of me, honestly, and that was pretty awesome.

I glanced back at the report I just closed. Although I wasn't keen on it, I pushed forward and continued rummaging through the hard evidence. If I was really going to barge into PD headquarters and demand to be put on this case as a drop-out FBI agent, pursuing it without Lissa, I had to know what I was getting into. Mia's influence and Lissa's recommendation probably only carried so far.

Just when I was about to think that nothing else stuck out in the bleak sea of homicide mystery, a flash of white caught my eye. It gleamed behind rippling plastic in the evidence bin, poking out the top of the bleak cardboard. Even with nausea still consuming me at the whole scene, curiosity pricked at my fingertips in rivalry, courtesy of the police skills continually nailed into me. Taking the plunge, I picked the bag up. Slowly, hesitantly, my curled fingers unraveled around the evidence fragment.

I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't this. I stared at the piece of the murder puzzle, bemusement flickering over my features, faintly staring back at me through the distorted, carnival mirror of the plastic. It was a white knight. A chess piece. Blood stained the glossy, light surface like it had slipped into a red, rusted robe overnight.

Before I could indulge further in the strange, misplaced enigma, Lissa's phone buzzed in her pocket, a soft drone in the quiet room. I watched curiously as she picked up, clearing her throat and answering, "Dr. Dragomir." I couldn't make out the words on the other end, but their impact was clear enough. Little by little, her already pale face drew graver. The faint color in her cheeks drained. It was a work call. Looks like our private bonding time would have to wait a bit longer. "I understand. I'll be in soon." She closed the phone shut.

"I thought you weren't on the case."

"I'm not," she sighed. "It was for another homicide."

I grimaced. I hated seeing Lissa stressed, and from her stricken demeanor, I knew it had somehow struck a chord. "Was it the same M.O.?"

"No," she said quietly, her jade eyes fogged. Normally, I could decode Lissa in an instant. Not this time, though. For a few moments, her thoughts were out of my grasps as she was lost somewhere beyond me. "This unsub used a scalpel."