A/N: Yay! We've finally got chapter two up! I promise that Skye will appear soon, as will an actual plot.

IMPORTANT NOTE: This fic is co-authored by Caitlin51, and she and I are also co-authoring the other side of this fic on her account. It is called "Crash and Burn" and shows this same story from the BioSpecialist viewpoint. I strongly suggest reading them both! While this fic will be a complete story in and of itself, as will the other one, 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.

Please read + review!

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"Anything? An address? A neighbourhood, even?"

Fitz hung back as Jemma questioned a shopkeeper in a greasy apron. They had tracked the mysterious G. Thomas to the tiny town of Ward, New York, but no one had seen or heard from him in over fifteen years and the unhelpful old man standing in front of them just shook his head. "Sorry. Can't help you."

Jemma sighed and Fitz knew she was fighting to remain patient. "No, I don't think you understand. We have to find him. It's a matter of the utmost urgency."

The old man shrugged. "What, he owe you money or something?"

"Or something." Fitz smiled awkwardly, looking around the tiny bookstore and hoping that Jemma would give up soon so they could leave.

"Do you at least have some idea of where else we could look?"

The old man shoved his hands in his pockets. "Listen, last I heard the boy was living in the City. Up near Brooklyn. But that was ten years ago."

"Finally, our first real lead." Fitz tried to ignore the hopeful look Jemma shot his way, rolling his eyes. While being shoved out the door, he called a hurried thank you to the shop owner.

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

Fitz shook his head, wondering once again how she managed to remain so consistently optimistic. "Yeah, this is...really great. We've now narrowed it down to 'possibly up near Brooklyn'."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, perk up Fitz. We've finally found something concrete to go on."

Half-hoping that this time he could somehow convince her to give up on the search, he asked, "So what's the next step? We can't just canvas neighborhoods."

She grinned and he knew he had lost again. "No, but I know where we could go."

…

"Uh, excuse me?"

Fitz's head snapped up, his eyes immediately drawn to the mirror. He saw the man standing behind him, eyebrow raised and arms folded impatiently, but couldn't remember for the life of him what had just happened. "Sorry?"

"Dude, you've been washing your hands for five minutes. They're clean, okay?"

"Oh, uh," he looked down at his hands under the running water. "Sorry." He turned the sink off, awkwardly drying his hands on his pants as he brushed past the other man.

As he pushed the bathroom door open he saw Jemma leaning against the desk at the front of the room, chatting with a gangly man in a tight blue uniform. He hesitated, not wanting to interrupt if she was still trying to "work an angle," but when he heard a high-pitched giggle and saw her scribbling something on a piece of paper, he rushed over.

He stood just behind his friend and cleared his throat expectantly, but when neither she nor the cop paid any notice to him he spoke up. "Any luck?"

Jemma started and whirled around. "Fitz! What have I told you about sneaking up on me?" She paused, turning to grin widely at the man behind the desk. "And yes, this nice officer is going to help us find...my ex."

Fitz narrowed his eyes, confused, but before he could ask anything the officer spoke up. "So, Miss Simmons, who's this? Your brother?"

Leo and Jemma simultaneously looked up at the man, each with an eyebrow raised and a questioning look on their face. She recovered more quickly than he did, and smiled even more widely, if that was possible. "Yes! This is my Fitz, I mean...my brother. My brother Fitz! Fitz...Simmons…"

More confused than ever, Fitz started to protest until Jemma stomped on his foot. "Yes! I am...Fitz Simmons. Nice to meet you." He extended a hand, which the other man pointedly ignored.

"So, Jemma, let me, uh, see what I can find for you. I'll be back in just a second." The cop winked at Jemma and Fitz resisted the urge to gag as she cheerfully thanked him.

"So, Jemma," Fitz drawled, making fun of the drawn-out way Americans pronounced her name, "what was that all about?"

She refused to meet his gaze. "Oh, nothing. I was just convincing him to...share the files that we need."

"And how did you convince him?"

"I...was friendly? And smiled? 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 officer walked up, holding a fairly thick, black file in his hands and making a show of trying to be discreet. He smiled at Jemma, "Hello, again. 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." Here he winked again, setting the file on the desk between them "I'm going to leave it on the desk, 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."

Jemma nodded and Ftiz could see her hands twitching towards the folder. "Of course not. We understand completely."

"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. I'm looking-" She stopped herself, realizing that he had already walked away. "Okay, then. The file."

She fingered through the assorted papers, her eyes scanning each page as quickly as possible. She inhaled sharply, and Fitz moved closer to look over her shoulder. She had her finger on an address not too far from the police station and a triumphant gleam in her eyes. "Look Fitz, there. This is him. I just know it!"

...

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