I know I've updated this fic after a really long time. I had written a 2nd chapter to this fic, but it was accidently sent off for recycling. The notebook was shredded and I was just too upset and disheartened to get back to writing the chapter all over again. But I'm actually liking this one better because the original chapter was really, really angsty. And honestly, I don't think we have a dearth of angsty HR fan fics on this site (including my own :P).

A 'thank you' to Witchy Bee, Betty Royale, xprimrose, Segran, HeroOfDarkness2005 and mythstoorfoot for the reviews left in Chapter 1. :)

I'd really appreciate reviews for this one too. Hope it's worthwhile. :)

Norman Jayden could've been a smug bastard when he walked into the police department the next day. But he took the high road. As always. Every fawning compliment was met with a gracious smile and a shy nod. Both were practiced.

Norman did get a chance to be snarky when Lieutenant Carter Blake said "He just got lucky!" loud enough for the entire department to hear. Norman had turned and smiled at him.

"Funny, I was thinking the exact same thing about the time they made you Lieutenant."

He expected to get tackled from behind when he turned but nothing of that sort happened. The case probably instilled this paranoia within him. Luckily, Blake left him alone, as did the other officers when they saw he was busy with all the paperwork.

It was an isolation he welcomed. The agent was still a certified workaholic. Mostly because he had nothing else to look forward to. To live for.

On the way out of the office late afternoon, Charlene handed over a note to him. Norman assumed it was a fan letter and thought of reading it later. That was until he read the name on the envelope. It was from Shaun Mars' mother. He opened the letter and read it as he walked out.

Dear Mr. Jayden,

I do not know what I can say or do to convey my gratitude to you. Words fail me. That night at the warehouse it was not just my son's life you saved, but my own, as well as Ethan's. We owe our lives to you.

These two words will never do justice to what we really feel or want to say, but: thank you. Thank you so much.

I wish you every happiness and the best of luck in all your future endeavors.

Regards,

Grace Garner.

He folded the letter, tucked it into his breast pocket and realized he was smiling. In the age of technology, a hand-written letter was something to be cherished. He always wrote to his mother in Boston when he had the time.

He was happy for the Mars family. In all likelihood, they were sorting out their issues. The kid was saved; man and wife would get together. It was the perfect ending. He only wished he could have spent more time with Shaun.

The boy had been resolute, letting him leave the hospital only after extracting a promise of meeting him again. Soon. Norman tried to work out a schedule in his mind. Shaun must have resumed school. The timing had to be taken under consideration. He hoped the Mars' wouldn't mind him dropping by either.

The cool breeze beat into him as it flew past. His jacket fluttered behind him. The rain no longer seemed to be liquid drops pouring down an hour glass. He would no longer be attacked by meat-hookers and sledgehammers. Not in this city, anyway. Or ever, hopefully. His black Impala was no longer a vehicle that ferried him from one wild goose chase to another.

After landing in Washington, he would embark upon an unending search for a female specimen to mate with. His mother had been insisting on grandchildren for a while now. Nobody could remember the last time he had been with a woman. Least of all, the man concerned.

He unclipped the FBI badge on his belt and tossed it into the backseat of his car. His gun, holster, coat and tie formed a pile above it. He unbuttoned his collar and rolled up his sleeves. Norman leaned against the car.

God, I feel great.

He felt on top of the world. But a certain tremor erupting from his fingers reminded him that he wasn't. The sharpness stung him inside his brain. Maybe that explained the blurry vision. He turned and fumbled for the door-handle, unable to see much now. All the exhaustion of all the world seemed to cave onto him.

"Come on!" he begged and pounded against the door till it opened. The thick stream of blood trickled from his nose to his open, panting mouth. He nearly retched at its taste. Norman clambered into the car and shut the door. He curled like a fetus on the driver's seat, twitching and shuddering and pressing his palms to his head.

All the fluids from his body were being pumped into his brain till it came close to bursting. Just like a balloon fixed under a gushing tap. His heart pounded fiercely against his chest as if looking for an opening to fall out of, so that it could bleed all over the car.

His left hand began a futile search for the vial. Norman prayed that he hadn't actually flushed it all away. That maybe, in a misplaced sense of loyalty, he was carrying a spare one on him. He wasn't.

"Please…" he meant to whisper. It came out as a sob. He could see faces and hear voices that weren't present there. It was like watching twenty televisions at the same time. All on full volume. They aren't real, he reminded himself. Not anymore.

Beads of sweat mingled with his blood, making it branch out like hideous veins. The pain, the throbbing and pulsing escalated and just when he thought he was about to pass out, he didn't.

The abruptness and intensity of the withdrawals had startled him. Norman knew, only too well, that they would worsen with time. He had to fulfill his promise to a ten year old boy before that happened.

Ethan Mars had been asleep for thirteen hours. Grace would open the door to the guest room to check on him. He had a doctor's appointment in a few hours. Grace wanted to get some food into him before that. Except she found waking a dead-beat man an act of terrible consideration.

However, a certain curiosity to explore the extent of damage on her former husband compelled her to sneak into the room with a small torch. She was a doctor, so she had plenty of these in the house and clinic.

Grace had tried to ask nicely about what happened in the last four days. He had been arrested only to escape and then be dragged back by the cops. He had also been a little ambiguous on the medical care he was receiving.

She had tried using tact, subtle hints and eventually coaxed him while laying dinner but it had not helped. Grace did not blame him. After two years of being apart, trust could not possibly be inspired overnight.

Not that her probing would be a confidence building measure. She rolled up her sleeves and then his shirt with nimble fingers. Grace wished he was sleeping shirtless. It would've made things convenient. But inappropriate too. And all kinds of awkward.

The faint yellow beam of the torch glimmered in the dark. She shone it over his exposed skin. There were red gashes on his back. She lifted his shirt higher to see a bandage taped around him. They seemed very similar to the wounds her father had sustained in a terrible car crash.

He had survived that one but life proved stingy with luck later on.

Slowly, but without warning, Ethan switched sides. Her hand was crushed under his waist. Grace's feet slipped out from underneath her and she landed on him.

"Ow! Aah! Shit!"

Grace rolled away from and fell off the bed. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

He cursed under his breath and reached for the bedside lamp. Another yellow-ish glow emanated from the lampshade and he saw her crouched guiltily next to him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked and pulled the sheets closer around himself. Grace hung her head low. Ethan rolled off the bed from the other side.

"Just what the hell were you trying to do?"

She stood up, prepared to run out of the room in case Ethan decided to fling an object at her after knowing the reason.

"I-", she stood up. "I wanted to see how badly you were hurt."

Ethan glared at her, trying to understand what she was getting at. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You're injured. I wanted to see how badly."

Ethan leaned against the wall. So it took her two years to come asking. Not that he made house calls either. In any case, it was a time both would rather forget. And Grace did seem sincere in her sympathy.

"Look, I don't want to alarm you. It's not so bad."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

"You're just making a big deal out of nothing…"

"As the mother of your child, I think I've the right to know what's been happening with you. No secrets, for a change."

"Okay."

He hesitated for a second. Then he took a deep breath. His hands crossed around his waist as he grabbed the edge of his shirt and pulled it over his head. A battered body marked by cuts and bruises emerged. But Grace noticed something else too.

"Wait! What's that?"

There was a panic in her voice Ethan had not hoped to hear.

"What's what?" he countered, hoping she hadn't noticed.

"Your left hand."

"What about it?"

"Show me your left hand."

Ethan had covered it with his shirt. "I don't know what you're talking-" Grace made a grab for it, and pulled it off before he could react. His hand stood in a defiant fist mid-air. It had been bandaged. And for good reason too. He had a missing digit.

The shirt slipped from her hand and glided to the floor. The torch followed with a thud. She reached for the unnatural stub. Felt it with her fingers. And that was exactly when she broke down.

"How did this happen, Ethan?" she choked between sobs.

"I had to save Shaun."

"Like this?" she gestures wildly to his hand. "Like this?"

"Oh honey…"

"Why would you do such a thing! Why!"

"Grace…"

He squeezed her shoulder. The thought of holding her close did occur to him, but he was not sure if it was the right thing to do under the circumstances.

"You'll never believe me if I told you what happened…"

Grace lifted her head. "Try me."

Ethan ruffled her auburn hair. "I will after I return from the doctor's. I'm assuming I've to be there soon enough."

"You do. But I'm dropping you."

"Don't bother. I-"

"Let me," she insisted.

"Alright. I'll tell you everything on the way there. Just… believe me, won't you?"

Grace nodded. "I can try."

Norman combed his fingers through his hair in the rear view mirror. He was trying to make himself presentable for Shaun. But somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt he looked like a sexual predator. A pale sinister man, sitting alone in a car and suspiciously eyeing every child exiting the school premises.

Okay, maybe I should just hold on to my FBI badge.

It was around 3:30 PM. All the children were on their way home. He'd either missed Shaun as he walked past or the kid chose not to attend that day. Norman still wanted to make sure. He stepped out of the car and made his way to the grounds right behind the building.

A group of boys were playing soccer. Shaun wasn't there. He hadn't expected him to be. Just as he hadn't expected himself to drive like a maniac for a good distance, only to see a kid after school. Presumably, he had been late.

Norman was almost certain that Shaun had gone home. That was until his eyes darted to the stands. A brown-haired boy was sitting in one of the rows, bent over a notebook. He seemed forlorn and detached from the rest of the world. Norman walked towards the stands. Shaun reminded him of his own lonesomeness, one that had peaked during childhood and remained a plateau ever since.

"Shaun."

He looked up. Norman gave him an awkward smile. He never really knew what to do around kids. A little boy in his neighborhood actually called him 'Creepy Ghost Man'.

Shaun got up and came running to him. "Mr. Jayden!" He threw his arms around Norman's waist since that was about as high as he could reach.

The other boys did not seem to notice. Norman was relieved not to have someone peering curiously at him for a change. He patted Shaun's shoulder. "You can call me Norman, you know…"

The boy led him into the stands. "Mom-dad tell me it's rude to call grown-ups by their first name." Norman pondered over it for a second. "Okay, listen to your parents, then." He pinched his pants up his knees and sat next to him. "Why aren't you playing with the other kids?"

"I did a little… during recess."

"What you up to now?"

"Algebra."

Norman picked up the notebook and flipped through it. There were tremendous cancellations done for certain sums. The handwriting was slanting and barely legible. "This is your handwriting?" Norman asked, hoping to hell it wasn't.

Shaun nodded. "My friend Billy's. He always does a sum till he gets it right. He's so good at algebra, he isn't even studying for the test tomorrow. So he lent me the book."

"Tomorrow, huh?" Norman flipped past a few pages. "Aren't you exempted for, I dunno, exceptional circumstances?"

"There will be an easier paper set for me."

Norman looked up from the scrawl. "You don't seem to like Algebra much."

Shaun sighed. "It's difficult… aren't Math teachers the worst?"

"Yeah, they are," he agreed for the sake of it. He had joined school when he was around Shaun's age but never really judged a teacher.

Anything was better than being educated at an orphanage. The warden did teach extra things, but for an unpleasant price. Norman preferred to exist in a state of semi-literacy till school. "Where's your mom and dad?" he asked Shaun.

"Mom had to take dad to the doctor's. I don't mind waiting. I was anyway studying for tomorrow's test."

"Do you want me to help you?"

"Sure," the boy said and handed over a pencil and notebook to him. Norman went over the equation twice in his head.

"Yeah, it's easy," he finally said, "the equation may look big and scary right now, but all you gotta do is use the BODMAS method in which-"

Shaun chuckled slightly. "You seem to like Algebra… much."

Norman smiled again. "Yeah… yeah I do."

Shaun sidled closer to him. They put their heads together. The younger brown headed child asked a lot of questions and the older one with pale blue eyes answered patiently. They sat in the stands, oblivious to the green and muddy grounds, the squabbling schoolboys and the grey skies above.

Suddenly, for Norman Jayden, interacting with a child did not seem so strange.

Grace did not say a word. Ethan began getting restless. "Say something," he nearly pleaded, "even if you didn't believe a thing."

"I just- it's… too much information."

Ethan fidgeted with his seat belt, waiting for Grace to make a turn before resuming the conversation.

"What do you mean when you say 'too much information'?"

"It's like-" she gestured with one hand, "the mind is like a small bag which can only digest a certain amount of information in a certain period of time. It works on the same principle as the stomach."

"So you're trying to say that I put you in an overload?" Ethan was mildly amused, but worried too since Grace looked visibly disturbed.

"I'm sorry," he persisted, "I really didn't want to trouble-"

"Oh for God's sakes, Ethan!"

Grace pulled over to the side of the road. Ethan gazed at her, concerned. She ran her hands down her face. "It's too much sometimes. Shaun was there a few days ago, and then he disappeared! Then you were gone too. The police was out looking for you, they had men waiting outside the house."

Ethan sighed and put a hand on her shoulder.

"And just when I thought I'd got you in enough trouble, you tell me about the origami figures, the trials…"

He unbuckled his seat belt and edged closer to her. "I don't know what to say…" he said to her, "except that I didn't want you worried. I just want us to get past this. And…be friends again?"

Grace dried her eyes. Ethan wiped the rest of the dampness with his sleeve. "Just friends, I hope?" she asked.

"Just friends."

"I think that works for me."

"Good."

Ethan leaned closer and gave her what he hoped she would perceive as an informal hug. She did and returned it in the same vein. They pulled away.

"Why don't you hate me? After all I've done to you?" she wondered aloud.

Ethan eased back into his seat and secured himself. "I could never hate you, Grace Garner. Even if I tried with all I had."

She laughed slightly. "Alright then, let's keep driving."

Ethan glanced at his watch. "I know we might be late for the doctor's appointment, but are we still up for the stop-over?"

"Yes, we're still going to the cemetery. We're actually really close."

They could see the gate approaching. "Thank you for this. I really wanted you to meet her."

The car stopped outside. Ethan reached for the bouquet in the backseat. His ribs stung in protest. Grace helped him out of the car. "Tell me which one," she said.

"Straight and ten paces to the left over there."

She put his arm around her shoulder and they trudged together, down the mucky pathway.

"That one there," Ethan pointed to a tombstone and they halted there. He tried to bend to put the bouquet, but the pain worsened. "Let me," Grace said and took it from him. She knelt before the grave. Madison Paige read the austere grey stone. She respectfully placed the bouquet next to it.

"I heard about her in the news. She was investigating the Origami Killer's case."

"She also saved my life. We were in the same motel. She'd seen me injured and bleeding. And she helped."

"I see." Grace touched the gravestone, possibly out of gratitude before standing up.

"She believed I wasn't the killer. She had warned me when the cops had arrived at the motel."

"The news reports say that she was killed in an explosion in the killer's apartment."

Ethan looked away. "Yes, she was."

Grace put an arm around him.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Ethan. You two must have grown close in those three days."

For a moment, Ethan thought she was implying sexual intimacy. He thought with a hot flush about the moment when she had leaned in to kiss him and he had moved away. That was the last time he had seen her, sheepishly walking out of the room. And Madison's phone call from the intercom was the last he had heard from her.

"Ethan?"

"Mmm?"

"We should go. I've to pick up Shaun. He's probably sitting alone in the compound, cramming for his Algebra test."

Ethan put an arm around her. Her grip tightened around his waist.

"Thank you for bringing me here," he said.

"No… thank you. I'm glad I came."

They stood over the grave, for a final glance.

"I would have liked to meet her. And Agent Jayden too."

"Well… there is a greater chance of meeting the latter," Ethan said.

Grace smiled a little.

"If only…" she whispered, not for a moment realizing how great the chance was.

"Let's go," Ethan gently urged. They hobbled back together to the car. Grace made a U- turn for the clinic. Ethan looked out of his window.

"I have a good feeling about today," he said, "I feel lighter."

"I'm glad you do," she said, hoping that she would too, some day. Unbeknownst to her, 'some day' would come sooner than she expected.

Author's note: This chapter isn't exactly the best I've written but Chapter 3 promises to get better. I should be able to make something good out of it. :) Do leave me a review.

PS: If you're also simultaneously reading Hell Within, I assure you I'm trying to update it before the 13th, because that's the day college reopens.