"Ah - good old New York City. No matter where we end up travelling, I think I'll always end up back here. You know what I mean?"

Standing in front of a rental apartment window, staring at the city streets that weaved and bustled with people below, Claire Stanfield enthused about the place in which he'd grown up. It had been a few months now since he'd found himself in the Big Apple, not since he'd landed a case snuffing out a low-level drug operation. Well, his official assignment from the client had been to 'gather espionage' on them, but after watching their despicable activities for a couple days, he decided he liked his plan a lot better.

'You will grow tired of it in a couple weeks. You always do, even in this place.'

At the desk behind him, Chane Laforet sat with a file opened up in front of her. She'd waited until Claire glanced at her to give her answer, though it was only a thought vocalized in her mind. The two knew each other, were close enough with one another, to communicate effectively in such a manner. Her fingers skimmed over the papers before her, as she committed the information to memory.

"Yeah? You're probably right, Chane. There's just so much of my world to see. I don't want to get caught up in one small section of it." Claire said, whirling around and slamming his hands down on the edge of the desk.

'Still, it takes you longer with New York than other places. I do not understand this concept. This place was never a home for me.'

Chane hadn't even flinched at Claire's excitement, long accustomed to his strange declarations and bouts of energy. The two had been working with each other for a few years by now, after all.

Claire ran a small private investigator business, with the two as the only investigators. Most of their cases, Claire picked on a whim, having more than enough client requests to pick and choose his cases. Expected, as he closed every single job he undertook. The only issue with his business was Claire's proclivity for making his own judgments on the cases, rather than leaving it to the client. Sometimes, this left the targeted party dead or incarcerated. The client was always too terrified to complain, though, so they still received their pay.

"Oh, right. Sorry, that was thoughtless." Claire said, though the smile on his face didn't hint at any regret.

'It is fine. People have always been my home. First, my father. And now, you as well.'

The two investigators had met on one of Claire's assignments about five years prior, over in Brooklyn. A homeland security agent he knew well had asked him to keep an eye on a local group of potential terrorists, suspected due to evidence he wasn't cleared to ever see. Claire complied with the request, and he documented tremendous proof that the members were up to nefarious activities with the intention of damaging the U.S government. However, during the course of his investigation, he started focusing on one member in particular - the attractive Chane Laforet, who incidentally, seemed opposed to the methods utilized. He broke protocol and made his presence known one night, when a coup within the group lead to a threat against Chane's life. He'd taken out all the members himself - much to his client's chagrin - and proposed to the woman right on the spot. She'd turned him down, only to become his business partner instead.

"No need to worry, then. You'll always have me, Chane. So you'll always have a home." Claire said, leaning over the desk and brushing the hair out of her face.

In the course of their work together, she'd also become his girlfriend. Chane still couldn't believe that fact herself, many days, especially when she thought about her former life. At times, she missed the more intense point in her life when she worked for the terrorist faction, but Claire's words always helped assuage her doubts. For all its merits, Chane had never considered that group a home.

'I was not worrying. But I believe you.'

Her belief in his assertions still surprised even herself. She'd never expected to find someone she could rely on, whom she'd respect and admire enough to consider a partner. Most people fell short of her expectations. Claire didn't just exceed them - he broke down, redefined, and then obliterated them all over again, much to her bafflement.

However certain parts of him remained painfully predictable. Claire leaned further over the desk and caressed Chane's cheek with his hand. He cocked a smile at her, eyes brimming with confidence, as he spoke.

"That last job over in Boston landed us a good bit of cash. And now we're conveniently in New York City, with a case that's sure to pay off well. And it's such a great part of the year right now, don't you think?" He said. "I guess what I'm trying to say is - we should get married while we're here. What do you say?"

Chane reached up and laid her hand over his, but her fingers squeezed his appendages, just enough to cause him to register a sliver of pain.

'Not yet. I am not ready for marriage. I have told you this.'

Keeping his hand still, face not revealing a flicker of being deterred, Claire responded, "Alright, alright, I get it. Just making sure. As long as you're in love with me, I'm happy, anyway."

Despite his claims, Claire re-proposed marriage every couple of months, thinking he could eventually change Chane's mind. All his efforts failed, but this did not dissuade him from continuing. Love was enough, but he liked the security, the peace of mind that came with an official marriage. Claire didn't like uncertainties in his life, which was the basis for his choice to adopt a solipsistic outlook on life. If he controlled everything, then nothing was actually left up to chance. For this reason, the issue of Chane's refusal bothered him like a thorn in his side.

'Then do not worry. Because I will always be in love with you.' Chane echoed his words.

Claire rocked forward on his tiptoes to close the gap and plant a kiss on her. Chane stiffened for a second before closing her eyes and trying to roll with it. Even though they'd been together a long time, such affectionate acts still felt foreign to her. Especially since Claire was so unabashed in his desires.

After a couple seconds, Claire broke the kiss and straightened up. He walked around to the other side of the desk and peered over her shoulder at the file.

"So what do we have this time? I hope it's something that'll give me a real workout. These last few cases have been too boring." He complained.

Chane shrugged and pointed to the summary of the client's request.

"A missing person, eh? Well, I guess those can be exciting. How much information we have on the guy?"

'Quite a bit. He was not an honest man. Nor was his career without notoriety.' She responded, flipping the pages and pointing to the description and full report on the missing man.

Claire frowned at the man's occupation. "A lawyer? Whenever those types disappear, it's because of drugs or a mob client. They take no time at all to track down. Oh well, I guess we'll get this over with quickly."

'I would not be so sure. Do you recognize the name?'

Reaching over and picking up a couple pages of the report, Claire narrowed his eyes and tried to place the name of the victim.

"Dallas Genoard?"

'Yes. Of the Genoard family.'

"The name sounds familiar. Weren't they some big-shots back in the day?"

Chane nodded. 'They ran a powerful firm, until their mob connections killed the head guy and his heir.'

The story rang bells for Claire, but he travelled so often that keeping up with NYC news was near impossible. He touched a hand to Chane's back.

"So now where does Dallas Genoard play into this?"

'He continued the family work, even though the firm fell into disrepute. According to the report, he has none of the influence or skill of his predecessors, and his well-known sordid habits have lost what little inheritance he had left.'

"Swell guy, huh?" Claire said. "I'm impressed that you know so much about this, Chane. Your knowledge is truly astounding."

Chane frowned. 'It's all in the file, Claire. And my father is a judge, remember? I do not understand why you compliment me.'

"Still? You just make me so happy, Chane, that I have to share it with you. You know what I mean?"

As usual, Chane did not, in fact, know what he meant. But she'd ceased questioning him years ago, so she just shook her head and turned back to the file. Claire may enjoy swerving off-course with his work, but Chane preferred to stay on-topic. One of them had to.

'Lots of avenues to start with.'

"Yeah, yeah, let's get this done with." Claire said, hopping up to sit on the edge of the desk.

He grabbed the remaining file papers from Chane and flipped through them, nodding every now and then. He took no notes, but then, he had a stellar memory. Ever restless, his legs kicked back and forth as he took a few minutes to peruse the entire packet.

"Talk about tons of enemies, huh?" He commented. "Plenty of scum clients, awful win-loss record, probably some old mob connections in there. Not to mention all the people in his personal life he's pissed off."

'Exactly. What about the charges brought up against him? We could start there.'

"Nah, I don't think so. It's all petty stuff - bar fights, tab disputes, some debt-collection issues. Nothing worth killing someone over. For those people, anyway." Claire said, at least partially self-aware of his own trigger-happiness.

'You do not know that. Perhaps he picked a fight with the wrong type of person.' Chane pointed out, one of the few people unafraid to contest Claire's judgment.

"Last time charges were dismissed was six months ago. Something like a bar fight? If the guy's aggressive enough to kill, he would've done it then or soon after. Not wait this long."Claire said with a wave of his hand.

'Where would you begin then?'

Claire beamed, leaning forward and running his fingers through Chane's soft hair.

"With a rich kid like this? It's easy - just follow the money." He declared.

Chane had to admit that Claire had a point - money trails proved an efficient investigative starting point when it came to people used to having cash on demand.

'Our banking contacts won't be available at this hour.'

"Then we'll just have to call tomorrow morning. Plenty to do in the meantime." Claire said with a flippant shrug.

'Plenty? Do you plan to visit your brothers this time?' Chane asked, referring to the three Gandors who'd grown up with the orphaned Stanfield.

Last time they'd travelled to the city, Claire hadn't gone to see his brothers. The fiasco with the drug runners told him it might be a poor idea to contact the three, who all worked in key areas of law enforcement. The Gandors disapproved of many of Claire's tactics, though they'd never vocalized it, and had on occasion outsourced cases to him. He talked to them sporadically, and they considered him family, but they kept a careful distance from the eccentric freelance investigator.

Claire tilted his head and said, "Yeah, I'll send a message or something for them to pay a visit. You know how busy they get."

He seemed blithe to the vagueness of his plan, as if they had all the time in the world instead of only the couple weeks they'd be in town. Chane wondered why he didn't contact them before coming into the city, but just a glance at Claire's face instilled confidence in her that, somehow, everything would work out for him.

'Then what should we do for today?'

Leaning over, Claire brushed his lips over his lover's cheek, before pulling back and tilting his forehead against hers.

"Well, we'll grab some champagne and walk through the city until we find a nice restaurant, of course. It's New York! And we've got an adventure on our hands." He exclaimed.

'Didn't we bring wine from Boston?'

"Oh, that's right." He said, standing back up.

Reminded, Claire hurried over to the suitcases laying on the room's floor, and he rooted through them until he pulled out a bottle of good wine, a gift from a satisfied client from a couple jobs prior. Without consulting Chane, he walked to the kitchen and grabbed two stocked paper cups. With a soft pop, he wrenched the cork from the bottle top, before pouring the red liquid. He returned to Chane, who had been watching without comment, and handed her a cup, which she took.

"An early drink. So that we can toast to the start of our visit." He explained.

Chane tipped her cup forward, used to her partner's antics. Claire met every new destination with enthusiasm, but New York City especially elicited excitement. Tilting her head, her lips curved into what fell just short of being a smile, the closest her expression could come to displaying joy. However, Claire recognized it for what it was, and he grinned at her.

"To this case. To my world. To us." He proclaimed, tapping his wine cup against hers.

'To us.' Chane repeated.

And they brought the cups to their lips and drank, secure in their bond with one another, and ready to face whatever challenge the next day would bring.