A/N: Yay, we're back with Chapter 2! I promise that Ward will actually be in the next chapter and then things will start heating up and getting really fun...

IMPORTANT NOTE: This fic is co-authored by therealshawn, and she and I are also co-authoring the other side of this fic on her account. It is called "Monsters in your Head" and shows this same story from the Skitz viewpoint. I strongly suggest reading them both! This fic will be a complete story by itself, as will the other one, but they will complement each other, give you scenes that you normally wouldn't see, and give you large parts of the story that happen when the characters are split up.

Anyway, enjoy!

"Anything? An address? A neighbourhood, even?" Jemma knew that she was grasping at straws, but this visiting his childhood neighbourhood was her last lead on G. Thomas.

The wrinkly man shook his head, his eyes sad. "Sorry. Can't help you."

"No, I don't think you understand. We have to find him. It's a matter of the utmost urgency." It really was, at least to Jemma. Finding the tiny little town of Ward, NY had taken a fair amount of time and she didn't know what the next step would be if this town didn't pan out.

"What, he owe you money or something?"

"Or something." Fitz piped up. She could tell that he was eager to get out of there.

"Do you at least have some idea of where else we could look?" Trying hard to keep the exasperation out of her voice, Jemma tried one last question.

"Listen, last I heard the boy was living in the City. Up near Brooklyn. But that was ten years ago," he said, sighing and obviously ready to end the conversation.

Jemma cast a hopeful look at Fitz as the old man shoved his hands in his pockets and stared off into space, obviously wishing they would leave his tiny book shop. "Finally, our first real lead."

As the old man obviously was not going to offer them any more information and was practically sweeping them out the door, Jemma didn't fight to get him to open up with information that she suspected he was withholding.

Fitz thanked the shopkeeper as the door banged closed behind him, but Jemma barely noticed.

"Well, that went well," there was real excitement in her voice. "I knew that someone here had to recognize him."

"Yeah, this is...really great. We've now narrowed it down to 'possibly up near Brooklyn'."

"Oh, perk up Fitz. We've finally found something concrete to go on." She didn't expect him to be particularly excited about this process, but it frustrated her that he refused to do more than follow along behind her and complain.

"So what's the next step? We can't just canvass neighborhoods," Fitz pointed out, his voice hopeful - not hope for their search, but hope that she would give up on her mission. She knew him too well to be fooled.

She smiled smugly. "No, but I know where we could go."

…

"Miss, I'm sorry, I really don't think I'm allowed to-"

"-but I would really appreciate anything you could do," she batted her eyelashes in her best attempt at flirtation. It felt ridiculous. "You see, he's my ex and he kept my favourite...my favourite," she wracked her brain for something that would make sense for a former boyfriend to keep, "hat." Mentally, she smacked herself, but there was nothing she could do about it now. "Yes, my favourite hat, and I just need to find him and get it back. It's an heirloom." She flashed him a winning smile, hoping to hide her pathetic lying skills.

"I understand, ma'am, I really do, I just," he tentatively and awkwardly reached out and patted her arm. "But I don't want to risk my job or anything." He tapped the police badge on his police uniform proudly with one finger.

She leaned over onto his desk and smiled even more widely, if that was possible. She pushed all thoughts from her mind about how much of an idiot she probably looked like right now. At least Fitz was still in the bathroom and wouldn't see her. "I won't tell," she promised softly, leaning towards him. "And besides, I like men who can bend a little rule like that. Sometimes. I mean, most of the time, I really like rules, but," she finally cut herself off, realizing that she was babbling, "It's...hot?"

Despite her awkwardness, the officer smiled secretively at her and winked slowly. "In return for your number?"

Jemma had to stop herself from starting in surprise that her plan had worked. "Er, what? I mean, yes," she corrected herself, returning his wink. "Yes. My number. To call me." She laughed and picked up a pad of paper on his desk and scrawled her number on it along with her first name.

"Any luck?" The sound of Fitz's voice startled her and she whirled around.

"Fitz! What have I told you about sneaking on me?" she admonished. She gestured at the man behind the desk and flashed him a huge smile. "And yes, this nice young officer is going to help us find... my ex."

Fitz looked confused, but fortunately didn't question her story.

"So Miss Simmons, who's this? Your brother?" the officer asked. There was a tinge of jealousy in his voice.

Jemma raised her eyebrow and was about to say no, but then she realized that would just ruin all the flirting she had just worked so hard to do. "Yes!" she blurted out. "This is my Fitz. I mean...my brother. My brother, Fitz. Fitz...Simmons…"

"I-" Fitz started to say indignantly, but she stomped on his foot. Hard. "Yes! I am...Fitz Simmons. Nice to meet you," he added with only a touch of resentment in his voice.

With a wink at Jemma, the cop pointedly ignored the hand Fitz offered and said, "So, Jemma, let me, uh, see what I can find for you. I'll be back in just a second."

"You're a life-saver," she praised him, forcing herself to sound peppy.

The officer nodded at her and walked off jauntily.

"So, Jemma," Fitz emphasized her name, "what was that all about?"

"Oh nothing," she deflected the question, avoiding Fitz's gaze. "I was just convincing him to...share the files that we need."

"And how did you convince him?"

"I...was friendly? And smiled?" she tried to say convincingly, but she didn't even believe herself. "Most people are really cooperative when you're nice. You should try it sometime!"

"You gave him your number, didn't you?"

"I...no, of course not!"

The young officer returned, a black file in his hands. "Hello, again," he grinned charmingly. So...I have a file here on suspicious, unexplained fires and fire-related events in north Brooklyn. Unfortunately, I have to go on break right now. And I'm not going to take this file with me. I'm going to leave it on the desk," the file hit the desk with a thump, "but that in no way means that you should open it. I have to caution you, that file is official police property, and under no circumstances should you pay particular attention to the incident report on pages four through six." He crossed his arms over his chest and waited expectantly.

"Of course not. We understand completely," Jemma nodded, her hands itching to grab the file and find the information she needed.

"But you should…" the officer continued, clearing his throat noisily,"Uh...you should be expecting a phone call. About...dinner. A very important phone call about dinner."

"Er, yes," she agreed, very pointedly not looking at Fitz. "I'm looking-" she cut herself off as she realized that the man had already walked away. "Okay, then. The file."

Trying not to look suspicious, Jemma casually flipped open the file to the pages he had indicated, her eyes rapidly scanning the words to find the relevant information. The chances of finding G. Thomas were slim, but she was somehow still hopeful that this would be the break that she needed. One particular address caught her gaze and she read the description of the the incident. Something about the witness's statement... Sucking in a deep breath, she commented, "Look Fitz, there," she stabbed the page with her finger triumphantly. "This is him. I just know it!"

...

It was getting worse.

The flames rose around him, licking at the exposed skin of his forearms and heating his internal temperature far above what was considered normal.

It should hurt.

It didn't. Not physically, at least. It was the raging emotions churning inside him that were much more painful, much more terrifying. The lack of control, the anger, the fear.

The fire engulfed him entirely.

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