Chapter Seven: Begging for Thread

With Dyson sulking from his encounter with his son last night, Tamsin was alone in the near silent morgue. The only sound came from the fluorescent lighting, a faint, mildly irritating buzz that she couldn't quite shake off.

The John Doe lay out on the slab in front of her. Facial reconstruction was in progress, but they haven't finished yet. Tamsin spent last night pouring over missing person files from what appeared to be his time of death, but found nothing. Plenty of people slipped through the cracks of society without leaving a trace, but everyone knew someone, so hopefully with the aid of a living human face to put on this body, they'd be able to at least identify him.

Tamsin stood at his feet, holding the clipboard in one hand. She'd been over the notes so many times the words were scorched into her memory, but she kept a hand on them just the same.

Fact: The victim's feet were a good two sizes smaller than the imprints they had found at the scene. So that meant there were three people present at the time, or at least two people and one Fae. The body was one hundred percent human, Tamsin had rushed those tests in secret. So a wolf-like Fae chased the victim through the woods, or more accurately carried him, as John Doe left no tracks of his own. After that someone ran away from the scene.

The trouble with this scenario was the absence of John Doe's prints. So how had be gotten there? Not wanting to put up with Dyson's constant whining, she had sent him back out to the woods about an hour ago, so hopefully he'd be able to shed some light on that situation. She told him to send her any pictures the moment he found them.

So far there's been no word.

The Fae's prints were interesting too. She made Dyson run a thorough analysis of them, but he couldn't seem to figure out what species they came from. He even compared them to his own shifted prints, and found what Tamsin initially thought: his were too small. So it wasn't a shifter, and as far as Tamsin knew from her vast knowledge of the Fae world, actual werewolves didn't exist. Not that she hadn't been surprised before, but she thought that might be a stretch.

No, something else was the cause of this. When she called Trick, he had agreed to help by searching through his extensive library. She had photos sent to him but yet again, has heard nothing.

Fact: The bites on the victim's limbs and abdomen happened post-mortem. Now, there were plenty of Fae murderers that devoured corpses, but none had such a scattered M.O.

She bent down to study the gashes in the dead flesh. The tooth marks were irregular, which was inconsistent with wolf fangs. Each wound looked like it could have come from a different animal, which Tamsin thought highly unlikely. The body hadn't been exposed to the elements for very long before it was found, and the wildlife in that part of the woods wasn't diverse as it should be.

Tamsin went to a nearby computer and pulled up her file containing the various Fae bite marks she compiled yesterday afternoon. She flicked through them, again, trying to find whatever could be close. Like the last time, nothing matched.

"Fuck it," she said out loud. Nothing was adding up for them.

Turning towards her case file instead of the body for this last part, she re-read for the umpteenth time the most puzzling part of it all.

Fact: The victim died from drowning.

They found the victim miles from any streams or ponds, but his lungs were bloated like water balloons nonetheless. This remained the most unnerving of all the findings from the autopsy. Tamsin knew of so many different kinds of Fae that thrived in an aquatic environment, but with the exception of elementals, none that could traverse so many miles over land while carrying a body of this size… that was impossible. Elementals were powerful beings, for sure, but even they couldn't pull off a stunt like this. They tended to be more physically weak, relying on their connection to nature for any sort of power.

All of these facts just didn't add up for her. There had to be something they were missing, something that she just hadn't seen yet.

So she went back to the body, to examine it one more time. After about half an hour of scouring, she came up with nothing new. This case began to grow into the realm of infuriating, and that made her anger grow.

Hopefully the CSI would have that facial reconstruction done, and soon.


Vex entered the Dahl, looking for Mark. When Mark didn't return after Dyson confronted the two of them the night before, he grew worried. It was a new emotion for him, one that sent him spiraling into uncomfortable territories he never knew existed in the landscape of his feelings. Mark has sent that text telling him that they'd talk, and he felt remorse, but Vex hoped that this would have happened earlier than his test run at his new job – which Vex had twisted an arm to get for him.

Walking through the doors, the first thing he saw was Mark dropping a tray full of glasses. The shattering of the glass rang and echoed throughout the establishment.

So this will go smoothly, he thought.

Instead of instantly ambushing the man he thought of as his boyfriend, he decided to scan the room first. For the first time in a long while, he did not see Tamsin occupying her usual booth, but he did see Kenzi and Bo playing a round of pool in the corner.

He realized he had a choice, and he found himself at a crossroads he'd rather not be at. On the one hand, he could go to Mark's aid, and risk him being angry at the Mesmer for trying to intervene. On the other, he could go socialize a bit, spark up a conversation with Kenzi and Bo, but risk Mark thinking he was being ignored. He wasn't sure what has made Mark so insecure lately.

Instead, he danced the line of caution. Waving over to Kenzi, he made his way towards the bar, settling into a stool.

Trick stormed over in a beeline. "Vex," he said angrily in hushed tones, "Are you kidding me with this?" He waved at the carpet of broken glass. "This is not the first time something like this has happened tonight! This boy is costing me money."

Across the way, Bo and Kenzi were discussing Ronaldo's odd interview from earlier. "So he's still wishing the father best of luck, but basically saying 'screw you' to his former bestie. What the hell is up with that?" Kenzi asked.

"You should have heard the conversation I had with Eva a couple hours ago. Girl has got some serious anger issues. She refused to even have a sit down with us, much less say one word about Morgan."

Kenzi took a shot, knocking the nine ball into a middle pocket. Circling the table, she said, "We'll just have to force her to talk, then. Her petty bullshit is going to have to be placed on hold, we're talking a potential murder here."

"True that," Bo said, watching Kenzi miss her next shot. She hunkered down over the table, swaying her hips a bit, and took her shot.

On his knees by the bar, Mark worked as quickly as he was able to clean up the broken glass. He cut the palm of his hand, and blood pooled.

Vex lowered himself next to him. "Let me help you with that," he said, reaching for the bloody hand.

Mark jerked it away, as if frightened of the Mesmer.

"Hey now," Vex said, trying to move closer.

Sliding back against the wall, Mark stared at Vex for a minute, his eyes wide. Vex could almost hear the blood racing in his veins. He wanted to try again, but a sudden fear of rejection sprang to the forefront of his mind.

"What did Dyson say to you?" he whispered.

"He didn't say anything I couldn't handle," Mark said. "That wasn't it."

Vex furrowed his brow. "Then what? Did I do something?"

"No," Mark said. "No…"

"Come on, let's go to the barrel room, talk this over. And please let me help you bandage up that hand." His eyes wandered over what was left of the glass. "This isn't going to hurt anybody, we'll be back in a few minutes. OK?"

"OK," Mark agreed, but his attention already seemed to be fading. Something seriously bothered him, and Vex needed to figure out what it was. Could this all have been caused by him debating about giving away his love?

As they walked into the back room, the main doors opened again and Ashton came through, scanning the crowd.

"Ah, shit," Kenzi said, ducking behind a pillar.

"Have you not spoken to him about his weirdo episode last night?" Bo asked incredulously. "You were burning hot for him until one strange thing happened, why put him on hold for so long?"

"He just called too many times, you know? Like, after you miss too many calls you know when you finally return it, that'll be the most awkward conversation?"

"I get that but Kenz, he's hot, he seems smart enough, and he's super into you. Just go talk to him."

"No!"

"Really?" Bo turned towards Ashton, and waved. "Hey! She's over here!" To Kenzi, she said, "I'll go buy you guys a pitcher, take a seat." When Kenzi glowered at her, she added, "I'm only looking out for you, bestie."

Reaching the bar, Bo noticed the presence of still-broken glass and absence of Mark cleaning it up. Trick looked a little more harried than normal, but still managed a smile for his granddaughter as she order the pitcher for her friend, and a glass of wine for herself.

"So Mark seems to be… here," she said, searching for a compliment and failing. She felt the deepest sympathy for the young Fae, but watching him here tonight put very little faith in his bussing abilities. "You're so sweet for giving him a job."

"So far, it's about halfway up on my biggest regrets of all time. And that's saying something," Trick murmured, filling the pitcher and pushing it across the bar.

"I'm going to run this over there while you pour my glass," Bo excused herself, rushing the beer to what indeed did look like a very awkward conversation in progress, and then returned to Trick.

"I'm just saying I freaked a little, OK? I'm allowed to freak when I've only known you for a short time," Kenzi said, talking with her hands slightly more than normal.

"I'm sorry that I got a little weird," Ashton said, pouring their drinks.

"'Little' is putting it mildly. Why were you off on the sidelines by yourself, dancing with Vex?"

Ashton's eyes glowed a little brighter for a split-second, and settled down to their burning coal-like fashion. He took a thoughtful sip of the beer, and said, "I know you felt it too."

"What are you talking about?"

"The music. I saw how it possessed you almost the minute you heard it. I guess, since I'm a small part Fae, that it took a tad longer for it to affect me also. I blacked out for awhile, and at first I just chalked it up to the booze. I'm sorry if I in any way offended you." He smiled a crooked smile and cocked his head.

Kenzi felt all the uneasiness within her melt away. How could she have been so ridiculous? "I'm sorry too, I should have figured that was the case." She reached over the table and clutched his hand in hers. "How do you know exactly what to say?"

"Well, since I've been stuck in radio silence for the better part of a day, I've had a lot of time to rehearse," he said, laughing and draining his glass. "Do you think I should go thank Bo for the brew?"

Looking over her shoulder, she saw Bo in deep conversation with Trick, probably bouncing ideas about the case off him. To Ashton, she said, "Not now, she'll probably be over soon."

In the barrel room, Vex was busy tending to Mark's wound and trying to figure out what was really going on with him.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

Mark tilted his head down towards the Mesmer. "I suppose."

"Now, I don't want to say I'm the most charming man around these parts, and I know we only met a couple days ago, but all this odd behavior…"

Mark's eyes hardened just a bit, but Vex continued.

"…have anything to do with you considering giving away your love?"

The hand not cut slapped across Vex's face, and Mark instantly said, "Oh God I am so sorry! I did not mean to do that, I don't know why I did that!"

Vex fell back on the ground, a shocked hand lifted to his reddening cheek. "What is going on with you?"

"I don't know!" Mark said, reaching his hands up, tugging at his hair. "I've never felt this way before. I feel like I'm being pulled in every direction at once, and when I scramble myself back together, I feel like either I'm not good enough for you, or that I can't trust you. There's something within me pushing myself away from you, and I have no idea how to respond to it." He jumped to his feet, pacing back and forth in the tiny space.

"Then let's get out of here," Vex tried to reason, "go somewhere and figure this thing out."

"I'm already fucking up this job enough, I can't just walk out on Trick."

"OK, how about this?" Vex asked, a devilish gleam invading his eyes. "How about we go out there together, and I help you? I won't leave your side all night. And I do mean all night," he said, standing up and pressing himself in Mark's way, putting an end to his frantic pacing.

"You would do that for me?"

"Darling, I'd do much, much more," Vex said, and kissed him.

The kiss seemed to instill some peace within the shifter. His body stopped shaking, and he allowed himself to fall into the Mesmer's lips.

"Now, let's go out there and show them what a team we are," Vex said, pulling him towards the door.