A/N: You guys reviewing are the best. I see the number of hits and wished that more of you would share your thoughts. I really want to know how I'm doing! Well, hope you're all enjoying yourselves ;-)

"Sinjin!" Trina yells across the newsroom.

The cameraman snaps out of napping at the editing bay. "I'm up! I'm up!"

"Is the segment ready, yet?"

"Yeah, yeah" he scrambles across his workstation. His tense face relieves when he produces a tap with a white label on it. "Right here, Tri…"

The reporter snatches with a smile. "Thanks." He blinks and she's gone.

Trina marches down the hall with purpose, looking for the producer. She has him in her sights and gets close to the bearded man in the white collar shirt.

"Josh!"

"Oh," his even face goes south. "It's you."

"Yeah, me. Listen, Josh; I've been doing some research on these gang leaders being found beaten up. We've seen vigilantism before but this is like someone's declaring war on the entire underworld."

"Ah, huh. Maybe it's that billionaire who dresses like an owl or something."

"Look, I'm being serious!" Trina sounding clearly upset.

"And I'm serious, too. The hour is full. Even if it wasn't, it will not be a slow enough news day for a crank story like this."

Trina's eyes became deadly. "This isn't just some conspiracy theory. This is really happening. I don't think…"

"Enough!" Josh holding up his hands in frustration. "Now I need to divide my attention between the floor and the control room because the director is sick."

"But, hey!"

He's gone. Trina leans against the wall, holding her story in her hand.

"How'd it go?"

Trina turned around and glowered at Sinjin. He lowers his head and raises his shoulders, bracing for a blow to the head. It didn't come.

"It didn't." She blows a strand of hair out of her face.

"I'm sorry."

"The reason they don't take me seriously," her finger jabbing his chest. "Is because all we have is testimonies of distraught survivors. Boring."

"How is that boring?"

"Because," her tone getting more frustrated. "That kind of stuff can always be disputed; brushed aside. What I need is hard evidence. Mom said that dad's been spending an awful lot of time at the station the past few months 'working on a case.' I'll bet the cops really do know something. And he's my ticket in."

"Trina," Sinjin sounding like a counselor. "You've barked up this tree before. Your dad refuses to give you any leads."

"Who said anything about being given anything?"

Cat is writing out her words, trying to get them just right. She wants Rob to know everything but she doesn't want him to have a shadow of a doubt that she loves him deeply.

The clunk-click of the lock snaps her out of it and she turns to see her love coming through the door, exhausted.

"Hey, hon" wrapping her arms around his neck. "How's work been?"

"Tiring. Cap has me pretty much on paperwork all day long."

"About our mutual friend?"

"I'm not at liberty to say," Rob says like he always does.

She understood that he was part of a special unit concerning the woman that saved the hospital last year but she accepted that certain details were better left classified.

"What'cha working on there?" he asks gesturing to the counter bisecting the kitchen with the living room that has the note on it.

"Oh," Cat running over to snatch the paper and pocket it. "Just a list. Still working on it."

"Alright, well I'm gonna take a shower now."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Cat asking concerned. They have been going out for a while and living together for three months. She knows when he has something on his mind.

"Nothing. Um, I don't know. All this paper pushing. It reminds me of what I'd rather be doing."

"Oh," Cat folding her arms trying to not come off judgmental. "You're considering going back in the field?"

"Yeah. I do miss it."

"Isn't it a little dangerous?"

"No more dangerous than a hospital," he grins They know he's referencing to that time it was under siege by vampires of all things.

"That's not fair," she retorts pointing.

"Look, it's gonna be a while until we…I mean…it's not like…"

"What if…things changed. What if I can't afford to lose you?"

"You never had an issue before."

"Yeah, but what if it's no longer just me?"

He stares at her, contemplating those last words. She was half hoping he would get it and half hoping he wouldn't. Because she was afraid of what would come next.

"I'm not a detective but I think you're trying to tell me something," he says jokingly.

Cat nods.

"How long?"

"About nine weeks."

Rob holds her hands and looks at her behind. "I didn't want to say anything, but…"

"Jerk," she smiles while slapping him hard. They kiss and Cat holds her finger over his mouth, telling him to be silent. "Now will you reconsider leaving the boring job?"

"Okay," he sighs. "You win. You both win." He thinks for a second. "Man, we've got a lot to do, don't we?"

"Later. Just hold me right now, please?"

He obliges and the two stand close together for the remainder of the hour.

Another time, she says to herself. Just let me have this.

Cops seal off the murder/robbery scene at the Museum of Civilization. It was a good scenario from a PR standpoint. The crime occurred in a sheltered loading dock and the pouring rain kept onlookers and media at bay. One thing that Vega cherished was a nice closed crime scene. Discretion in this day and age is difficult and makes improbable to solve crimes.

Prevention is a much easier alternative. Sadly, his friend and nocturnal crusader missed these poor schmucks. He always understood about the dangers of being a cop. There was logic in him getting plugged. But ordinary citizens out doing their rounds getting senselessly maimed always disgusted him. What did these guys ever do to anyone? They were just doing their jobs. Why did he or they have to kill them? They would have given up whatever they took.

People like these have so much to lose that they wouldn't dare to compromise that. They must have families. They always do.

"Vega!"

He turns to see Comm. Turner walking toward him. "What are you doing here, Captain?"

"Hello, Commissioner. Thought I'd survey the scene."

"I appreciate the thought but we already have the primary detectives on this and medical personnel have just arrived. I ask you again, why are you here?"

Vega shrugs. "You gotta admit, sir, homicides aren't exactly the dime a dozen they once were."

"And how," he nods.

"Sorry, I just wanted to be sure that everything was being handled."

"This isn't just this time. You have been turning up at nearly every violent crime scene. Why?" Turner was getting impatient.

"Sir, I…uh…"

"Look," Turner pointing at Vega. "If this has anything to do with your special unit I want to hear nothing about it. You know, I don't like the way IA is sniffing around my affairs. If I want to save my own ass I need a little plausible deniability."

"Understood, sir."

"Vega, I don't know what you are cooking up in your little think tank but it's big. I just hope it's not big enough to destroy us both."

"You're just gonna have to trust me."

"I knew you were going to say that," Turner's face got more agitated.

Jade's patrol on the roof of a factory is disturbed by the ringing of the cell that Vega gave her. She picks it up but it's not the cop. She answers.

"Hello?"

"Jade," Andre's voice comes through the other line. "Where are you?"

"Downtown. Why?"

"Tell me where you are. We need to talk, right now."

"Is it bad?"

"Real bad."