When we got back to the apartment building, Daemon almost fell asleep in the elevator up to our level. "Come on, ye auld mutt, up ye go." I yawned. I was tired too. We had gone out to dinner after James picked me up. Then we went shopping. It seemed James took me everywhere. I knew it was to get my mind off of Derek Morgan. For most of the day, it worked. But whenever I started to get happy, he would slip into my mind again, and I got angry again. It wasn't always anger; sometimes it was frustration, or just sadness. I wondered what made him think that the getaway driver in a shooting of two FBI agents and their daughter could be rehabilitated, or even deserved to get out of jail early. I wanted to go talk some sense into him, but I could hardly stand on my own two feet. Plus, I wanted to know if I could get a hold of the transcripts of the parole hearing. Maybe I could see exactly what he said.

"You going to be okay Jesse?"

"What? Oh, James. Yeah. I'm just really tired. I'm going to bed. It was a long day after all." At that last part, I turned and glared at him. He knew that I knew what he was doing the whole day. He just smiled, and unlocked his own door. After that, I went into my apartment, put out some food for Daemon in case he got hungry later, and then crawled into bed with my clothes still on. Daemon jumped up onto my bed next to me. He knew that whenever I was alone in bed, this was ok.

It's not like I have guys over often. But, I do go to bars every now and again, when I can see. Sometimes, I even bring a guy home. None of them ever meant anything. Most of them were to get my mind of Ian. I fell asleep, wishing Ian was here now.


The next morning I woke up, and couldn't see. Great, I really hoped that this wasn't going to be the time that I only saw things every other day. I could see a little light today though, and couldn't feel any pain in my eyes. I was going to go talk to Derek Morgan today, even if I had to piss James off to do it. When I walked out to my kitchen, I could hear my phone vibrating. I opened it, and dialed the voicemail. "Jesse, it's me. I took Daemon for a walk earlier today to let you sleep in. Sorry about yesterday, I just wanted to enjoy your eyesight. The doctor's going to call you later today. Don't forget. Love you, bye." I deleted it, and I heard someone trying to open my door. I grabbed the nearest knife, getting ready to throw it at whoever came in.

"It's me. Put your knife down Jesse. Can I come in all the way now?"

I threw my knife down on the counter, and whistled for Daemon to come in. He ran in, and I heard the door slam against the wall, "so you like him better than me?" he chuckled. I looked to where his voice was, and I heard him sigh. He could tell by my eyes that I couldn't see today. People told me that my eyes got cloudy on days that I couldn't see. "Oh Jesse, I'm sorry. Is there any pain?"

I shook my head, and knelt next to Daemon, "Timcheallachd." Time to work. "Are you going to take me to the Hoover building today? If you don't, I'll just take a cab."

He moved towards me, "Piuthar, I am so sorry." Sister. I nodded to show him it was ok. I knew he meant my eyesight, but I had expected it. "Yes. I will take you there after you eat." I half smiled. Daemon went over to eat, but still kept an ear cocked towards me in case I needed something.

I paused, "It's fine."

I could hear James walk near me, and felt him put a hand on my shoulder, "Then what's with the knife?"

I sighed and walked over to the couch. I hadn't moved my furniture in years so I knew where everything was. "He still hasn't been found. I doubt he'll come out now, but you never know."

James sat next to me, "Do you really think he's still watching over you?"

I flinched. I couldn't let him know. I just shook my head instead.


We had been driving for awhile to get to the FBI offices. It normally wouldn't take this long, except it was rush hour in downtown D. C. "All right. I'll go park the car, and wait for you in the lobby. I have to talk to some people here too, but I should be done by the time you are finished yelling at the guy." He smirked, and someone came to help me to the building. James must have called ahead to let them know we were coming.

"Jesse! Long time no see!" Ah, Paul. Only he could get away with a crude comment like that.

"Well maybe I just wanted to use my eyesight on someone much prettier than you." He laughed a loud boisterous rumble. It was always good to see him, even when I couldn't see. He locked elbows with me, and led me into the building, even holding the door open for me.

"How long has it been since you saw anything substantial?" He knew everything about my eyesight. I came here often, and when I couldn't see he always insisted on staying by my side in the building. He worked here before the shooting, and we would go out to lunch every once in awhile if I didn't come to the building that often.

"Well I could see for about ten hours yesterday, but other than that it's been seven months. About the last time I came here."

"Hmm. So the depression's getting worse than." He lowered his voice when he said the last part, not wanting to tell everyone in the building my personal business. He also knew that I was less likely to work when I was depressed. In my company, I do many things; mainly because I went to law school, and have dual citizenship between here and Scotland. When I work, I came to the FBI at least once a week. Technically, I still worked for the FBI, but I haven't been an active agent in three years. I consult on cases, and have even created a few profiles, but nothing major, or on a set schedule.

"Yes. But, I figure I just need to get back to work. I hope it helps."

He mumbled directions to me as he took me to the elevator, "Before you talk to Derek Morgan, talk to his supervisor. They're in a meeting right now, but they won't mind if we interrupt."

I chuckled, "enjoying your promotion to director Paul?" He laughed again.

"Well having many, many people at your disposal is very fortunate. Plus, I get to blow big wigs off to see a pretty lady like you." For that last part, he leaned over and kissed my cheek. "We're outside his supervisor's office, Aaron Hotchner. It looks like his boss is in there too. Good, hopefully they'll get along."

He paused to give me a minute to collect myself. He knew even thinking about that day hurt. Paul was one of the few people who knew I remembered that whole day, not just up until I got shot in the shoulder. James was the only other person who knew that. Everyone else thought it was odd, because I had a photographic memory.

I knew it was hard for him too. He was one of the first agents on the scene that day. I felt him stiffen at the memory. A few years ago, I made him tell me what he saw that day. It was horrible; he said there was blood everywhere.

I took a deep breath, and entered the office. Both agents in the room jumped up as they saw who accompanied me. Paul was the first one to talk, "SSA Hotchner, SSA Strauss, I do not think either of you have met SSA Graeme." I nodded my head at them, but did not offer my hand. I needed to keep my bearings; I wanted to keep my hands so I could feel the wall in the room. "She's blind." I heard one of the two agents gasp in surprise. Then I heard the woman try to cough to cover up her surprise.

"It's alright. I get that a lot."

The man-Agent Hotchner-said, "Do you have a seeing eye dog?"

"Yes, he's in the lobby with my brother conducting some business. We have found that your agents have become more…cooperative when a dog as large as he is around." I smirked at this.

He chuckled, "isn't it amazing how the agents are perfectly fine in the face of danger, but when faced with a giant dog they cower in fear?"

I chuckled a little, "yes. I came here today to talk to you about an agent of yours. He testified at a trial-"

Paul interrupted me, "Parole Hearing." By this time he had led me to a chair and sat next to me. I heard someone drag a chair over near us and sit themselves.

"Yes, a parole hearing of a getaway driver in a shooting from a couple years back."

The woman interrupted me, "Yes, and what concern is this to you Agent…"

"Graeme." Paul said. He felt he needed to defend me, "And it is SSA Graeme. I would watch your tongue Strauss. Her pay grade is a lot higher than yours, and she has done things for this country you will never dream of doing, even if she has been almost blind for almost eight years."

That's right. It would be eight years in a month. That just made me angrier. "Agent, I understand you have been in a position of authority for a number of years. I do not care. You treat people with respect, even if you are their superior. Besides working for the FBI for over ten years, my company has done work for the FBI for fifteen years, at a much cheaper cost than any other company we do business with. I suggest you do your homework before you meet with someone next time." If Paul knew why I was here she must too. I got up, and started to pace as my voice got louder, "if you HAD done your homework, you would've learned that the shooting that happened that day was the same exact shooting that took my eyesight. It was the same shooting that has caused me so much pain since then. It was the same shooting that took my husband from me. It was the same shooting THAT TOOK MY LITTLE GIRL!" I didn't care how loud I was, I was pissed at how she could dare interrupt me.

She tried to interrupt me again, but both Paul and Agent Hotchner held up a hand to her. "Why did you not consult me on this case anyways? It is written, very clearly I might add, in the case file that any further action on that case should be run by me, or the director."

I turned to where Paul was, and glared at him. Or at least in the direction he was. "Did you authorize any action on this?"

"No. But I think it stated that those orders were only specific to the man that shot you. I know you meant it for the whole case, but it looks like the previous director changed those orders a little."He shuffled some papers; I assumed they were the man's file.

Six months after that happened, the director stepped down, and Paul was promoted.

Agent Hotchner spoke up, "are you sure it's the same case? I assure you, SSA Morgan would not have spoken for someone who took place in the shooting of an FBI agent's family; even if they were only the getaway driver."

That just pissed me off even more, "ONLY the getaway driver? I shot the shooter in the gut that day. He would not have been able to escape if the getaway driver wasn't there!"

Agent Hotchner looked at me, "do you know their names?"

My Scottish accent had gotten really thick by now, "Are you really trying to humanize them to me? They are scum. I wish I did not know their names. I wish they had never entered my life! The driver's name is Coinneach, and the shooters name is Andra."

I could feel Hotchner looking at me, "no. Their names are Kenneth, and Andre."

I waved my hand, "English translation of Scottish names. Kenneth is Irish. Andra is Scottish. He knew my parents. He kidnapped me when I was fifteen. He raped and tortured me. When he was released from prison, he shot and killed my husband and daughter two months later. Do not ask me I if I know their names. I know their life history better than my own. And trust me, most of my own history I do not wish to know."

Paul finally stopped me, "Jesse. Please do not yell. We all understand the situation. While some…reactions," he paused, looking over at Strauss, "were not appropriate for anytime, we will try to get to the bottom of this. Please sit, and we can discuss this."

I snorted. If he wanted to be like that then fine. "I shot Andrew," I emphasized the 'drew' "in the gut on purpose. If I had shot him anywhere else, he would've died and not gone to prison. I have an….extreme sense of morals, justice, and right from wrong. I wanted to be able to know that he was sitting in the most secure prison in the country. I wanted to know that he could not escape, yet he would suffer. If I had known that he had a getaway driver, I would've shot him a little lower." I heard Paul and Hotchner hiss at this. I might have been giving too much of a vivid picture for the both of them. "Or, I would've shot at the car, at the driver." I started to whisper, forgetting that they were even here, "if I had known, I would've left the country sooner. If I had known, I might not have even come back to America."

No one knew what to say at that. "Let me go get SSA Morgan. Maybe he can explain his reasoning." I nodded, and tried to calm down. I didn't need everyone in the bureau to know this. I heard Agent Hotchner open the door and call out, "Morgan, can you come up here? The director's here." I knew he did that to give his agent some warning.

"Sure boss." I heard someone climbing up the stairs, and then another chair being dragged over.

I heard someone enter, "Director, is there a problem?"

"We're not sure yet. You recently testified at the parole hearing of Kenneth Smith. He was the getaway driver in a shooting. It involved Agent Graeme here, her husband, another agent, and their daughter. The last two did not survive."

"Shit. That information wasn't in his file." I heard him sigh, and sit down in the chair. This was going to be a long "talk."