The next few times they run into each other, she's in places she isn't supposed to be and he's starting to seriously wonder if she has a physical inability to stay behind crime scene tape.

Not to mention how none of his men ever seem to see her, and now they all think he's crazy and a hardarse.

He isn't crazy. Nope, not crazy. Detective Inspector Alec Hardy is a lot of things—grumpy, private, angry, socially awkward—but he definitely isn't crazy.

It takes a bit of digging, and somewhere along the way, he loses several hours of sleep that he'll never get back, but it's worth it for what he finds. He starts with what he knows—female, dyed blonde, mid-twenties, born and raised in London, about 5'5 with a slim build, first name Rose—and goes from there, pouring over newspapers, magazine, and online articles, running an image from the sketch artist through the system.

And…he gets nothing. It's like she doesn't exist. No records, no pictures; not even a driver's license or school photo. There are partial matches, of course, but nothing that matches his girl.

When had he start thinking of her as "his girl?"

Rose doesn't show up on CCTV anywhere near crime scenes or the hospital, but skip over a few streets or blocks, and there she is—the blonde in the leather jacket. Proof he isn't imagining her; he even asks a janitor who's working late to confirm they can see her.

He can't remember the last time he was so relieved.

Until he proudly shows Miller the next morning and she gives him this look, like she's really starting to worry about him, and he knows what she's going to say next.

"Sir, there's no one there. Maybe you should take some time off."

As it turns out, there was no janitor working that night.

Damn, he hopes he isn't crazy.

oOoOoOo

Short chapter, don't hate me!

I'll update as soon as I have a few reviews, or next Sunday-whichever comes first. Hope you enjoy, please review and let me know. Since it's un-beta'd, please let me know if you see any errors.

~Nagi