Adrian's wish didn't come true. No one came and mugged them at a red light, and nothing liable popped up that could have delayed the meeting (an emergency side stop at a Wine and Spirits store not counting as a excuse). As he sat in the stiff, office chair, he entertained himself by imagining how different this scenario would have played out if he'd done a barrel roll off the side of the LA freeway, Dimitri probably slamming his forehead on the steering wheel's blaring horn at his idiocy.

However, Dimitri was one step ahead of his wacky stunts and kept the doors of the car firmly locked at all times like a parent minding a curious infant. Adrian had pondered the idea seriously while on the highway, too. He'd thought better of it at the last second. While it was tempting, he wasn't sure how well his silk shirt would hold up in the blazing California dirt after hitting it at 65 mph. So, ultimately, he'd towed after Dimitri into Alberta's office. It was still a fun notion to toy with, though.

Especially since Alberta's current visage voided every definition of the word "fun". "Absolutely not," she declared.

Dimitri, while normally bowing to superiors, held his ground this time, pleading to her logical side. "Captain, we already have a few solid leads we're working on. It would add more difficulty to the case if you were to hand it off to another pair now."

"Just because you're the first ones that responded doesn't mean you'll get the case. The victim is the son of a federal judge. That changes things." Alberta was a seasoned police head in her fifties, maintaining a clear head and firm grip on her apartment. While she held Dimitri and Adrian in high regards among the rest, their track record this year was bleak. "This is a high-profile case."

"Which means you need it solved, and fast," Adrian put in quickly, settling back to reality and the debate at hand. With his natural charm and round-about logic, he could have swooped the title of debate head in high school. Too bad that was all but social suicide, and he rarely showed up to school to begin with. Most of the time he chose to smoke cigarettes in the parking lot on top of his history teacher's hood instead of attending Stan's droning class. "You know we're your best detectives," he added gallantly afterward.

"You were," she contradicted. "That is, until you pulled that stunt. Or have you forgotten that already, Detective Ivashkov?"

"We're going to therapy for those reasons," Dimitri answered sagely.

Alberta didn't appear as convinced, crossing her arms. Even though the detectives had a good few inches height-wise on her, Dimitri especially, they seemed to pale in comparison to her stature as she looked down on them from behind her desk like a hawk. Normally Adrian would have blamed it on their sitting vs. not sitting positions, but he knew better with Alberta. In the same age group as Jamie Lee Curtis or no, she was a force to be reckoned with. "That's the other reason you're here. I heard about your session today. Doesn't seem like you're making much progress- or that you're willing to."

Adrian's face twisted into one of feigned shock. "I'm fairly sure that's a violation of doctor-patient confidentiality."

"Save the lawyer crap, Ivashkov. You gave up your confidentiality rights when you signed up."

"Captain," Dimitri cut in before Adrian could make any more comments that would inadvertently boot them off the case. "It was only the first session. Adrian's learning how to express himself in a more... creative manner."

"Yes. And Dimitri is learning how to apologize and not take charge of everything," Adrian tacked on angelically, knowing the addition would push his partner's buttons. It did. Dimitri had to bite back his annoyance as it raised its ugly head, forcing a stiff smile again for the sake of appearing professional. Letting on that he wanted to smack Adrian upside the head like usual wouldn't score any points in their favor. "We can't thank you enough for putting us into couples therapy," he continued. "It is stellar."

Alberta shot daggers between them, not fooled by their chummy appearance. "...Why do my two best detectives have to be the biggest pain in my ass?"

"I feel like that's a rhetorical question."

Before Adrian could bask in the fact they indeed were still on top, and before Alberta could make another sharp comment, a rapt on the open door cut into the meeting. Dimitri glanced over and inwardly groaned at the two walking migraines that had just sauntered into the office. Adrian didn't even bother masking his displeasure, making a face.

This only served to make his haughty grin grow. Even his blue eyes seemed to smirk. "Are we interrupting something?" Jesse Zeklos asked, trailed by his equally annoying partner, Ralf.

"You are, but come in anyway," Alberta replied thickly, still in a not-so-great mood. It didn't help they had already welcomed themselves in. Jesse and Ralph were another pair in the homicide unit, a pair as dysfunctional and annoying as the high school quarterback and his shadowing sidekick. Most days, they managed to annoy Dimitri and Adrian more than the issues between themselves. That was an impressive feat in and of itself.

"Yes, Alberta here needs you two to help pick out a new color for her office," Adrian quipped.

Jesse laughed hollowly, Ralph jumping in almost immediately after with his own round of fake chuckling. "As hilarious as ever, you two," the former answered, feigning good-hearted rivalry and patting Dimitri's shoulder. Dimitri stiffened. Even though he was the poster boy for calm reasoning and zen lessons, Adrian kindled a small hope, waiting for the day Dimitri took Jesse out with one, swift punch.

"Knock it off," Alberta put in stonily. She'd been in this business long enough to see through any bullshit. Her attention flitted back to Adrian and Dimitri, informing them, "While it's great you two think you're getting along so well, the DA disagrees. She wants to put Zeklos and Zarkosy on the case."

That grabbed their attention. They straightened in their chairs while the opposite pair grinned victoriously. "What?" Dimitri demanded, uncharacteristically thrown off guard.

"You want Cagney and Lacey on the case? You just said we were your two best detectives."

"You might be, but the DA does not agree."

Adrian shook his head sadly, emerald eyes on her. "You need to learn how to trust."

Dimitri, recomposing himself almost instantly, chose to stick to his earlier, higher calling, and pursue logical reasoning- especially since Alberta was unfazed by Adrian's charm. "I understand the pressure of the DA, but what's the point of putting us in therapy if you don't give us a chance to prove we've changed, Captain?"

"How can we forge a meaningful relationship if you don't allow us to self-actualize?"

Jesse rolled his eyes in the background. "You guys are psycho-babbling sociopaths."

Adrian glanced back at the two from the lofty position in his chair, jade eyes twinkling. Only Dimitri caught the hard edge to them lurking in the dark depths, matching Adrian's personality, which was often a double-edged sword. "Those were some big words, Zeklos, I'm impressed. Studying your vocabulary for the SAT? Maybe you'll actually pass this time."

Jesse's blue eyes flashed like fire, but it was Ralph that came to his defensive, sneering. "What are you, still in Junior high?"

"Those were a tough six years for you, huh Ralph?"

"Shut it, all of you," Alberta ordered. It was amazing how the sole female in the room could silence four strong-headed idiots with five words. They obliged instantly, including Adrian, though an impish smile found its way on its lips; even Dimitri couldn't help the upward twitch of us mouth at the way he was getting under Ralph and Jesse's skin. Alberta exhaled sharply under her breath. They really were a thorn in her side. Still, she couldn't deny they had a point. Crossing her arms, she made them a deal, and sincerely prayed it wouldn't come back to bite her as she honed in on Dimitri and Adrian again. "Fine. I'll put you two on this case" -Adrian and Dimitri perking instantly- "but only if you take therapy seriously."

"Absolutely."

"No doubt," they agreed at the same time with separate answers. There was no hesitation as the snagged the opportunity. Despite the almost-divorce and couples therapy situation, both detectives were in this business for a reason. They liked dealing out justice. It was their only common ground.

Alberta shot them each a skeptical look to drive home her point. "And that doesn't mean just saying what I want to hear."

"Never."

"Nope."

She sighed, not missing Adrian's full-fledged grin and Dimitri's devoted resolution frictioning his partner's goofy glee. She was already regretting this decision.

Sober House, LA, Thursday, 10:36 AM

While both detectives had been sent home after Alberta's charming critique session, even Dimitri's workaholic drive dwindling under the exhaustion of couples therapy, Thursday was spent tracking down their leads. This included first and foremost finding Zach, the victim's brother and their prime suspect on account of the scout knife. Adrian wasn't in high spirits as they rolled up to the Sober House, though. The glow he radiated indicated he'd spent the night in female company and probably enough alcohol to K.O. an elephant, but weariness tugged at him, too. It was all but palpable. And if Adrian was barely tolerable most days, the extra dose of exhaustion and hangover pushed that toleration to its brink. "Well," he remarked as they slowed near the edge of the curb, slots all but nonexistent, "the parking here sucks."

Dimitri made his own spot and unbuckled himself. "Tragic. Just imagine how bad it must be for the driver."

Adrian didn't respond, either not hearing him or pretending not to, popping out of the car and stretching instead. Dimitri noted as he arched his back that Adrian still had his liquor canister and cigarettes next to his probably empty pistol, clearly marking his priorities. The fact he was openly and happily carrying alcohol into a Sober House was the cherry on top. Dimitri shook his head in exasperation. Yeah. It was really a wonder how they were still on the force, let alone this case. Adrian yawned like a cat and trailed behind him as he walked up, mumbling, "Do we really have to do this? Can't we just call?"

"Oh, haven't you heard?" he commented flatly as he flashed his badge to security, getting the two inside. "This is the best place in the city for parties."

While Adrian knew he was joking, he still looked at his partner sadly, like you would a one-legged flamingo with no balance. "I bet this is the kind of place where you had your best college memories and parties. No alcohol, just meditation, trench coats, and bad decisions."

"It's a duster, Adrian."

"I'm sure that's what Rick Roll claims about his 1980 music video, too."

It was Dimitri's turn to ignore his partner, spared from that moronic conversation by two men striding purposefully towards them. The one was average size and build, with blonde hair and blue eyes like a typical Californian surfer. The only truly striking thing about him was his left eye, which glimmered like glass in the sunlight. The second man, however, was striking in almost every aspect, and Adrian played dark, organ music in his head as he approached. While the blonde guy was tan and fit, the second was tall with gaunt cheeks, and had translucent, paper-like skin. Adrian was surprised he didn't spontaneously burst into flames from the sun. It was safer for both that Adrian didn't voice any of his thoughts, letting Dimitri take over as their distance diminished. "Can I help you gentlemen?" the blonde asked.

"Hopefully. I'm Detective Belikov, this is Detective Ivashkov. Do you know by chance who's in charge of this place?"

Understanding lit up his features, followed by sadness. He realized the reason why they were here: to follow up on a resident's murder. "That would be me, Keith Darnell," he introduced before gesturing to the man beside him. "This is Isaiah Frost, house security." Mr. Gaunt-and-Pale nodded.

"You both live here?"

Keith shook his head. "I do, but Isaiah doesn't. I called him when I realized Toby was missing. I figured you all would follow up sooner or later."

"My company secures all the sober houses in the area," Isaiah explained, tucking a hand in his front suit pocket, only to produce a business card and hand it to Adrian. Adrian noted that his voice was gravely and the way the sunlight hit his eyes, the irises took on a reddish tint. Adrian made sure to take the card by the slightest corner, politely stapling his mouth shut. In his mind, he thought Isaiah's company was better off guarding vampire clans and voodoo cults than recovering patients, especially since the CEO looked like death's second-hand man. So, yes. Better to keep his mouth shut and not to switch into that pattern of conversation.

Dimitri picked up on Adrian's probable not-so-professional thoughts, and quickly changed the topic again. "Do you mind if we look around? Maybe see Toby's room?"

Keith and Isaiah glanced at each other before the latter nodded. "Of course. Follow me."

Toby's room was like everyone else's in the Sober House, small and an echo of a hotel room, save for the typical pleasures you'd get a Motel 6. Adrian pitied the poor souls as he and Dimitri trailed behind the other two into the victim's home, the detectives snapping on gloves just in case. "The room's just as he left it," Keith said. He strolled in and pocketed his hands while Isaiah lingered in the background, becoming a shadow.

"And when was the last time anyone saw Toby?" Adrian asked, piping up for the first time.

"Two nights ago, the night before he died. He was here at lights out at 11, but he wasn't here in the morning."

"Any idea where he might have gone?"

"No idea. Usually when people disappear, it's because they're using again, sad but true." Keith sighed. "In Toby's case, it would have been heroin."

"Hmm," Dimitri hummed under his breath. While it was true Toby was a recovering addict and the evidence around his death leaned toward a drug deal gone wrong, the pieces didn't quite fit together. There were too many variables, and nothing was clear-cut. He made his way around and opened the doors along the room; while the initial room was a combination of a living room and bedroom, there were 3 other nooks, including a bathroom, closet, and desk area. Adrian combed along the bedroom, either admiring the fish in a nearby aquarium or his reflection, while Dimitri tacked on, "Toby's father mentioned that Toby and Zach got into a fight as well not too long ago. Was it in one of your therapy sessions?"

"Yes, but unfortunately, we don't disclose what happens during those sessions."

Almost as soon as Keith said that, a new voice chimed in, crystal-clear and point-blank. "You don't have to. His brother killed him."

The two detectives stopped and turned their eyes to a small, female silhouette that had just appeared in the doorway. The girl was in her mid-20's and looked jaded, her dark clothes prompting an Avril Lavigne inspired look. Keith's demeanor morphed into exhaustion; even his glass eye glowed with disapproval.

"Gretchen," he warned.

"Toby's dead and Zach did it," she persisted.

He sighed. "You'll have to excuse her. Gretchen and Toby got pretty close during their time here." In the background, she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

Adrian straightened, honing in on her and dismissing Keith's write-offs. Even through the slight haze of his hangover, he could read people well, an inherit trick of the trade. One thing was becoming strikingly obvious the more time they spent here: Keith was hiding something. And she wasn't afraid to expose it. "What did Toby and Zach fight about?"

"The usual. Money, drugs..." she trailed off and exhaled. "Zach told Toby he was tired of his crap. He said he was a disgrace to his family and he was better off dead. Guess he got what he wished for, huh?"

"That's some pretty personal stuff. You two were that close?"

"Yeah."

He smiled, not missing a beat. "You were dating."

It was a statement, not a fact. Gretchen rolled her tongue behind her teeth, weighing Adrian before correcting, "No. Toby broke it off a long time ago." Adrian and Dimitri shared a look at that. She didn't miss it. After a heartbeat longer, Gretchen shrugged off the doorway and strolled out, calling behind her, "I don't care if you guys suspect me. But you know what they say, family strikes first."

Keith looked like he was the one with the bad hangover in wake of Hurricane Gretchen. Nothing more was discovered at Toby's flat after that, and Dimitri and Adrian strolled back to their car under the afternoon sun. "Think we should add jilted ex-girlfriend to our list?" Dimitri asked.

"Nah," Adrian dismissed, popping open the passenger side door and sliding in. His hangover and headache was growing increasingly worse, not helped by the massive doses of sunlight. "Believe me, I know deadly ex-girlfriends. She's not the type."

"Yes, well, you would know murderous ex-girlfriends better than the rest of Southern California." It was the one thing he could take Adrian's word for. "Zach on the other hand did threaten to kill Toby."

"Things can get heated in those therapy sessions. People some times say things they don't mean."

"And some times they say exactly what they mean." Dimitri started up the car and drove back to headquarters, more puzzled than when he was before.

While there were numerous leads they had to track down, little progress was made aside from the Sober House that day. The rest of Thursday was spent on marital bickering and grating retorts adding tension to Adrian and Dimitri's already rocky relationship, most on account of Adrian's souring mood as the hours waned. The evidence room was still working and waiting for results for any other forensic evidence that could help them find the killer, including running Zach's busted cell phone. Zach himself remained MIA; the last mark on him was his dad's vouch that he'd went for a drive to relax. Apparently, he had decided to drive to Washington D.C., the Sahara desert, and back to NYC to clear his head.

For better or worse though, that stalemate vanished Friday morning.

West Villa Hotel, LA, Friday, 6:58AM

It was Dimitri's turn to be in a bad mood. He woke up with his ever-lasting headache that morning, the looming migraine throbbing in tempo with his cell phone's droning vibration. Running a hand through his chin-length locks and grunting, he managed to sit up on his forearm and glance at the screen. To his surprise, it was a call. The fact that it had woken him before his alarm and the usual glaring sunlight through his window indicated it was early. Really early. The nearby clock confirmed it, gloating 7AM.

He picked it up, but it wasn't until then that he registered the name and goofy picture of a certain brunette, former-GQ-model-gone-cop plastered on his welcoming screen. He toyed with the idea of ignoring it altogether. That didn't last long. After another steady minute of that nonstop drone, courtesy of the continuous bombardment of calls in compensation for not listening to his chirping voice, Dimitri snapped and answered, his voice still rough from sleep. "This better be good, Adrian," was his only greeting.

"Good morning to you too, USSR." Unlike his partner, Adrian seemed fully awake and happy, making a complete 180 flip from yesterday. Whether he was semi-drunk or fundamentally crazy, Dimitri could never be sure. "If they had captains over there in that darling Russia of yours, I'd call you Captain Sunshine for this occasion."

Dimitri pinched the bridge of his nose. Not two sentences later, and his irritation had already mounted ten fold. "They do have captain ranks, Adrian."

There was a pause. "I didn't pass history class, alright?"

"Color me surprised."

"Ha. Not bad for you, given the hour. Dimitri 3, Adrian 246. Now, for as much as I'd love to reminisce about high school and my academic record, I'm afraid we'll have to postpone our trip down memory lane. A silly thing called work is always getting in the way of our bonding time."

The alarms in Dimitri's head went off instantly. It was enough to drown out his complaining headache and annoyance. He sat up in bed, the white linen contorting and wrinkling at the abrupt movement. "What? Is there a break in the case?"

"Apparently," Adrian wrote off breezily. "Guess they found Zach. If you ask me, a young, on-the-lamb kid is hardly a reason to rouse me out of bed, but-"

"Where is he?" Dimitri demanded, already up and getting dressed, the phone tucked in the nook of his shoulder.

"Relax. I have the location and am on my way to pick you up now. I have to admit, this experience is making me remember why I never drive: LA traffic sucks more than parking." With that abrupt, flippant comment, Adrian hung up. It was just as well. Dimitri was struggling to change as it was. As he sat down to put on shoes, he glanced around by chance and slowly registered the aura enclosing the small space. It might have just been the fog of his dreams or the recent case bugging him, but weirdly enough, his room suddenly reminded him of Toby's. There was a stale, not-so-warm-or-homely feel to it, Dimitri choosing not to garnish it with personal items. That was the default of living in a hotel. You had to give some aspects of normal life up. Of course, there were little things, here and there. Boxing gloves on the counter. John Wayne DVDs on the shelf. A frame that laid face down on his nightstand, holding a picture he rarely looked at of a beautiful CIA agent sporting a wedding gown and him on the side.

Slipping on his shoes, he sat on his bed a moment more in quiet thought. He breathed in, closed his eyes, then exhaled. Preferring not to linger on it, he grabbed his duster quickly and headed out.

Adrian was waiting at the hotel's doorstep when Dimitri came down. The green-eyed half of the duo looked calm sitting behind the wheel, and his perfectly-styled hair showed his vanity outweighed his need for sleep. Dimitri slid into the passenger seat and Adrian momentarily tilted up his sunglasses. "I've made this point before, but you know it's not healthy to live in a hotel, right?" Adrian batted his eyelashes innocently in compensation for Dr. Dragomir's absence.

"Just drive." He began to sink back into his seat when he abruptly straightened again. "Wait, you're not under the influence are you?"

Adrian tsked. "Such lack of faith. I'll get us there in perfect condition, and any extra speed can be contributed to hastiness, nothing more, nothing less." Dimitri could hardly argue that. It was Adrian's car, after all. He hadn't missed the fact that Adrian had dodged his question, but if there was ever such a thing as a well-functioning drunk, Adrian would win the lifetime award.

And sure enough, they got there unscathed and 10 minutes ahead of schedule. The place he described was one of the tall, retro-style hotels in the older section of the city, among shops and other vendors. Police tape scattered the scene, including half a dozen patrol cars and a firetruck, but the suspect was no where in Dimitri's line of sight as he hopped out, spotting one PD member he recognized as Mikhail's partner instead. He jogged over to him, Adrian trailing behind. "Where's the kid?"

Surprising both of them, the police officer gestured upward and Dimitri craned his head back. There, on the ledge of the roof, was a barely visible silhouette framed by the hotel's unlit, gloating sign. Zach was on the brink. Guess they left that out of the report.

Adrian was right on top of it though, easily commenting, "Just what LA needs, another uplifting hood ornament."

Dimitri shot him a look as they both began walking up to the roof, bypassing security and trailing up the staircase. "I'll do the talking, you just... stand there and try not to let the wind ruin your hair," he said decisively. The last thing he needed was Adrian talking him off the ledge single-handedly with his helpful "advice".

Adrian grinned his trademark devil-may-care smile and lit up a cigarette. "Good idea, wouldn't want to stun him with my good looks and make him slip."

"Yeah. That's what I'm worried about."

The top of the roof was industrial-looking, with electrical boxes, short rails, and plumbing nozzles jutting along the sides. Pigeons cooed and flew around, nesting along the strange topography. Zach stood on the edge of the cement. He was young, with dark hair and a college kid's closet. On his right was a fire escape, the small hole in the pavement dark with an inner ladder barely peeping out the top. It would be useful in some situations. This one? Not so much. A few police officers and firemen lingered on the sidelines, not about to push the guy's buttons. The detectives, however, didn't hesitate as they strolled up, catching Zach's attention.

"D-Don't come any closer!" Zach warned, the boy's nerves clearly frayed. The wind swept through his hair, his eyes like one of a frightened deer caught in headlights.

"You're not going to jump," Adrian said simply, relaxing with hands in pockets.

"Excellent job, Adrian, dare him to jump off the roof."

He shrugged, nonchalant. "I'm just saying, if he was going to jump, he would have jumped by now."

"Don't listen to him," Dimitri cut in, "I'm Detective Belikov-"

"-and I am Detective Ivashkov, now which one of us would you like to talk to?"

Zach shook his head, confused as to why they were introducing themselves like they were about to go get coffee and laugh about this. "I don't want to talk to either you." He paused. "I just... I want you to tell my father that I'm sorry." His toes dipped off the ledge, edging closer. Adrian couldn't help but note he was wearing Converes. At least the shoes wouldn't be a huge loss. He had half the mind to throw his lighter on them and start a bonfire on the roof before dragging the poor, unknowing boy to find real shoes. Like his. Not as posh as Louis Vuitton, but he gave Nordstrom points for effort.

"Sorry for what?" Dimitri inquired.

He shook his head, his already red eyes stinging with more tears. "My brother's dead because of me."

Well. That was quite a statement. The two detectives shared a look, and despite Dimitri's explicit wishes, Adrian took the spotlight long enough to stroll over and glance down. He shook his head. "Should have chosen a higher building, kid."

"Adrian-" Dimitri began to warn.

"I'm just saying, if it was a big exit he was going for, this isn't the place. There's a chance he could live. And man that would not be pretty for anyone. Seriously, picture it." He made sure they all did. Rolling his cigarette to the side, Adrian did a swan-diving hand motion accompanied by a falling plane sound. Dimitri couldn't make out of if the last sound was supposed to be a "splat" or a mini, nuclear explosion, but it got his point across.

Zach paled at Adrian, questioning the brunette's sanity as his liability stood two meters away from demise, before pointing at Dimitri. "Okay, I want to talk to him."

"I'm a little offended," he told Dimitri, stuffing his hands back in.

"You just demonstrated his cartoon death with hand puppets."

"His almost death," Adrian corrected. "You were not paying attention at all, were you?" Dimitri ushered him away without comment. Just as he was strolling off to leave the hard work to his partner, Adrian caught sight of the fire escape for the first time, the small mar in the pavement stimulating an idea in the detective's mind. The cogs in his head started churning, and he was glad Dimitri's back was turned. With the devilish glint growing in his emerald eyes and no spare energy to form a poker mask, he knew he probably looked like Grinch when he got an idea. The plan was dangerous. It was borderline insane.

Bottom line, it was brilliant.

Showing a surprising amount of stamina under the sun and nicotine of his current hit, Adrian jogged over to the opposite side of the roof, lightly touching the shoulder of the janitor. "I'm going to need your help." He caught sight of a fireman jogging over, Adrian figuring what the hell, and waving him over as well. "You too, come on." Neither protested, the three heading off while Dimitri came closer to Zach until they were less than a foot away.

"Listen, Zach," Dimitri reasoned, his voice soothing, "You can't jump. You can't do that to your father. I met him, he's a wonderful man, and he'll never get over that." Zach sucked in a short gasp of air, tears pricking at his eyes. He wiped them off with the sleeve of his hoodie. "Whatever you did, I'm sure he'll forgive you."

"We had a bond," Zach said, voice choked. "I should have trusted him."

Dimitri's eyebrows knitted in confusion. "Who, your dad?"

"Toby." He angled back toward Dimitri, still semi-hysteric and in tears, but somehow logical. His explanations tumbled out like pleas, desperate and shaky. "Look, you have to understand. He said his dealer was going to kill him if he didn't give him the $5,000. I should have trusted him, but I can tell whenever he's lying, and he was lying. Every time he's ever borrowed money from me before it was for drugs but this time..." he trailed off, the guilt lucid and heartbreaking. "I should have trusted him. I should have just given him the money man." He inched a step back, further onto the ledge.

"Hey, hey, Zach-"

"I should have just given him the money and now he's dead, he's dead because of me."

"Zach, Zach-" The boy was completely on the ledge now, but he stopped, balancing there. Dimitri was on edge as well, mentally, but at the same tipping point as Zach. "I believe you. I believe you, alright? I know you didn't kill your brother. But if you jump, everyone's going to think you did."

That caught his attention. He was so wrapped up in his own self-deprecation and guilt, he'd missed that, the boy faltering and looking back at Dimitri. "W-What? Why?"

Dimitri took a breath. He decided it couldn't do any harm in disclosing the facts. In fact, it might just be enough to persuade him. "We found a Scout Knife at the scene. We think it was the murder weapon. Is it yours?"

"Y-Yeah- I mean, no. I mean, it was, but I gave it to Toby." Dimitri paused, and Zach's anxiety heightened, taking his silence the wrong way. "You have to believe me, I didn't kill him. I loved him."

"Then come down from there and help us find his killer." Zach froze up again, caught between the two sides, glancing between Dimitri and the edge, both whispering sweet things. "Come on, Zach. It's not worth it. Hasn't your dad had a bad enough week already?"

The boy choked again, coming undone like a shawl unwinding into threads. "And it's all my fault." He inched backwards again.

"Zach, no, it's not your fault." As Dimitri continued to try to reason with him, preparing to step forward, he noticed out of the corner of his eye the shadow in the fire escape move. Slowly, a bundle of messy, dark brown hair loomed above the swallowing darkness like a shark from Jaws, emerald eyes twinkling while Dimitri was negotiating their suicidal suspect down. In contrast to his zen technique, Adrian was braced with a limp fire house knotting around one link of his handcuffs, the other cuff in his hand and inching toward Zach's ankle. Dimitri saw through his plan in seconds. The hose was a pulley, probably wrapped around the lower fire escape, and the handcuffs were to attach Zach to it. It would keep him from falling. Even with the admirable utilization of physics, the plan was insanely, dangerously, and irrevocably idiotic.

Especially since Adrian's sudden appearance didn't only startle Dimitri. The pigeons around them suddenly noticed the lurking shadow and kicked up spontaneously in a burst of feathers, startling Zach. That was all it took. The boy stumbled and slipped, losing his footing off the concrete. Adrian barely locked the other end of the handcuff around his ankle before he went completely over, Dimitri rushing forward and yelling, "Grab him!"

Dimitri himself couldn't grab him fast enough. While he fell out of reach of both the detectives, the hose by some insane miracle did its job and locked in place, like a rock climber's rope. Dimitri scrambled to look over the side, eyes frantic. Zach was safe, though. He was suspended in the air, holstered by the rope around his ankle, and two firemen and a janitor were on the next level of the fire escape, easing him down back onto semi-solid ground.

Dimitri all but collapsed in relief, breathing out heavily, his heart in overtime. Adrian was propped up in the fire escape, his elbows on either side of the small hole. He puffed his hair out of his face, noting the wind had completely dismantled it, before nodding toward his partner. "Good job talking him down," he quipped.

Dr. Dragomir's Office, LA, Friday, 9:04AM

"You are an idiot."

"That's not quite how you say 'thank you', but don't worry, you'll get the hang of it."

Dimitri stopped outside of their therapy room and exhaled sharply, fingers wrapped around the doorknob. "Do you have any idea how stupid that was? You could have killed him."

"We were dealing with a suicidal suspect, it wasn't going to have a Snow White happy ending either way. Come on, lighten up. At least we have him, right?"

"You're an idiot," he repeated.

Adrian clucked his tongue in disappointment. "See, this is why we need therapy. Alberta may need to learn how to trust, but you need to learn to say thanks once in awhile. It wouldn't kill you. It might even be enough mental shock and sweet talking for me to forget about the homework questionnaire."

"You are not still stuck on that."

"The day you figure out where I got my name from, I'll let it go."

Adrian did the deed for him and pushed ahead, opening the door and sauntering through before Dimitri could stop him. Dimitri chanted Russian swears in his head, ready to voice a few of them as he followed after, warning, "Adrian-"

Before he could say anymore, he was only cut off by his partner, who had stopped dead in his tracks. It was so abrupt that Dimitri's train of thought was derailed, and he noticed what Adrian had. It was hard to miss. They stood center stage. While the rest of the couples were scattered in their seats like last time, Lissa Dragomir stood in the midst of the circle with two women. The one on the left was a petite woman with cropped blonde hair and a daring golden tattoo on her cheek, clashing with her conservative clothes and cross necklace. The tattoo peeked Adrian's interest, along with her bright, icterine eyes. Despite being obviously brazen, they were beautiful. It reminded him of his artistic days.

Dimitri wasn't focused on the blonde, though. His attention was fully devoted to the woman on the right. Her usually wild mane was tamed in a black ponytail, the Turkish-colored female still radiating her exotic glow even in the cramped, California office. Had it not been for that and her unchanging style, he might not have recognized her at all after 3 years. Lissa's eyes shifted to Adrian and Dimitri, and likewise, Sydney and Rose glanced over as well. No introductions were made. None needed to be. Rose's eyes flashed the second they met Dimitri's.

He remained glued to the floor, staring. "Rose?" he breathed.

"Dimitri?"

Silence fell. The mounting tension in the room was tangible, the two caught in their own gravitational pull and unspoken memories drug up from the sudden encounter. Lissa glanced between them. Luckily, that seriousness lasted all of three seconds. Adrian sliced through it by grinning like the Cheshire cat and cheerfully declaring, "Well this is going to be delightful."

Five months later: I feel like a father who abandoned his family because of a midlife crisis and 20-year old dream of being a rock star, only to crawl back now, hoping to sweep it all under the rug. Sorry. Truthfully. I'm terrible.

Like the show, this story has a lot of potential under its wing, but certain scenes are so bland in the story line, I'm desperate for some comedy relief in between. A round of applause for Richelle Mead, because I seriously don't know how she constantly deals out Adrian's priceless lines and humor. Hopefully though, despite this brazen inactivity, you all enjoyed this chapter. Many thanks across the board if you aren't ready to torch me and this story yet. I'll try to update as much as I can. No promises, but seriously, if you're not ready to throw me over a building alongside Zach, you're amazing. Smiley face.