Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick. Tock

The passage of time slipped through the fingers of those who did not have the power to grasp hold of the formless being that was life. Minutes tumbled into each other, hours draining into hours, days and weeks blending and colluding into one giant, conglomerate knot. And when you reached out your hand to untangle it, to disassemble the secrets trapped in its twine, it snaked around your wrist and pulled you in. Once it bound you, was there any hope of escape? For a return to a freer time?

These were the thoughts on Luck Gandor's mind as he listened to the clock in his office wind down the evening, a constant reminder that he had nothing to return to at home. Since he had little better to do, Luck stayed late at the office, completing paperwork that could have waited until tomorrow. Most of the staff left for the day, save for a couple interns looking to polish their resume recommendations with their dedication. One by one, the lights in the building flickered off, so that the only light came from the small lamp in the room, forcing Luck to strain his eyes.

He worked every day of the week. It was expected for someone in a high-ranking position such as his, and so he lived up to it. Besides, he needed all the time he could get, in order to make sure his work was absolutely perfect. Since legal work was at times difficult for him, he assumed it took him longer to complete it than others in his position. He'd never know for sure, however; he had to pretend it all came effortlessly, since showing any sign of weakness constituted a political death sentence.

His eyelids drooped, and he leaned back in his chair. He'd been in since early that morning, and the hours started weighing on him a few hours back. But while the idea of sleep appealed to him, the reality of it proved elusive. For a while now, he'd been unable to settle into slumber. He'd reach the pivotal point, about to swing into the realm of the unconscious, when something caught hold and pulled him right on back. Tonight, he planned to curl up with a collection of Poe's stories, which helped him sleep. Maybe they would help stave off the worries that kept him tethered to the waking life.

Tick tock. Tick tock.

As for the whole ordeal with Eve Genoard - he'd spent a portion of the day going through his associates in that precinct. Since he held great distaste for the Commander of the Russo's precinct, he had slim pickings regarding people he was on good terms with there. Still, he'd placed a few calls, but none yielded information of any use. He had a couple meetings set up (under other pretenses) over the next few days, but that was all he was willing to do about the issue. If nothing pertinent came up, he'd nix the whole business and give Eve his apologies.

Luck closed his eyes and pressed a hand to his temple. Fortunately, he worked well under pressure and while exhausted, so no one even noticed his demeanor shift. The familiar clutch of sleep wrapped itself around him, and a series of images flashed before his mind. Pictures of a crime scene, blood seeping into the beige fabric of the living room couch. The victim on the stand, a woman with bandages around her arm and circles beneath her eyes and who flinched every time he stepped towards her with a question. The jury's eyes looking at him, judging him, and in the end, finding him as unworthy as he felt. The perpetrator's handcuffs snapping off, the smirk he shot the sobbing victim. All images fresh, since it'd only been day ago he'd lived them.

Ring-ring. Ring-ring.

Snapping Luck from his reminiscing, and his doomed attempt at napping, the phone on his desk rang. Eager for a distraction, he snatched the receiver on the second ring and brought it to his ear.

"Hello? This is the District Attorney's office, Luck Gandor speaking."

"Hey, Luck? How's it going? It's me, Firo."

The familiar voice managed to steal a smile from the attorney. Although he didn't see Firo as much as he'd have liked, each occasion brought him a small joy. After all, he'd known Firo almost his whole life.

"Hello there, Firo. I'm well, the usual. Is there something I can help you with?"

Luck wondered why the detective was calling him so late. Strange, but then, he figured Firo knew him well enough to guess that Luck would be in at that hour.

"Maybe. It's kind of a long story, though. You got time?"

Tick tock.

"Yeah. I've got time."

By the time Luck hung up the phone, his hand was trembling. Though his visage, that cool and smooth mask, remained utterly calm and collected, he could not control the slight quiver of his fingers. The news Firo delivered eliminated any possibility of extra sleep that night.

So Firo took on the Raz Smith case. Luck should have known it would end up this way. He did not, however, know whether this would prove fortunate or unfortunate for the young detective. The Smith case was a particular sticking point for Luck, since it ended up as a very public, very personal failure. The man had killed too many people to walk free. It had been Luck's job to make sure it didn't happen. And yet.

'I glad he's dead. I'm glad.' Though the thought was bitter and ugly, he forced himself to swallow it and accept it as truth.

More surprising than the news of Smith's homicide, however, had been Firo's other revelations. Thinking about all the information he'd just gotten, Luck didn't even know where to start.

The fact that Dallas Genoard went missing had hit him hard. Normally, he'd count his blessings if someone told him this, and hope never to see that scumbag again. In fact, he'd said as much to Firo, and let on that Dallas went "missing" every couple of years, only to be found in some ditch or alleyway, roughed up by someone he'd messed with. If not for the event that morning with Eve Genoard, Luck would have written it off as just that. But now, he was irritated. Someone was playing games with him, and Luck was not a man who tolerated such foolery.

Because of the earlier meeting with Eve, the news about Dallas managed to overshadow that about Huey Laforet, but that little issue still bothered him. He knew Judge Laforet, of course, as he'd tried several cases in the man's courtroom. Huey was an impartial judge, coldly so, who never showed any sign of bias or emotional involvement. While these traits were always desired in courtroom judges, Huey was different. There was an edge to him, and he often acted out of his own sense of logic and agenda rather than actually hearing out the lawyers in his court. Sometimes, he'd make a call that came completely out of left field and made no rational sense, and Luck suspected Huey did it out of a bored desire to observe the lawyers frantically trying to rework their cases. Like they were test subjects.

Just the thought sent a chill down Luck's spine. No, he possessed no fondness for Mr. Laforet. He urged Firo to turn it over to someone else, maybe internal affairs, but Firo remained adamant about pursuing it himself. Luck could not help but see danger in Firo's future, and this unnerved him. But Firo wasn't the type easily dissuaded trouble, and so there was nothing more Luck could do about it.

On the other hand, he could do something about the Dallas issue. And despite the late hour, he fully intended to. If Miss Genoard was willing to waste his time all day on the matter, then he'd feel no remorse for stealing some of her night.

Suppressing his innate unwillingness to inconvenience the young girl, he picked up his phone and dialed her number, determined to get to the bottom of the whole charade.

Half an hour later, the attorney and the psychology student sat across from one another in a small 24-hour diner a few blocks away from Luck's office. The overhead lights flickered, casting fleeting shadows across each of their faces. From the corner, the chattering of the late-night wait staff mixed with the clattering of dishes being washed and rearranged, a low cacophony that comforted Luck. He rubbed a thumb against the illegible initials scratched into the table. He'd wanted anonymity, somewhere no one would recognize either of them. And somewhere convenient, cheap. This place suited the bill perfectly.

While Luck felt right at home at the forgettable diner, however, Eve fidgeted in her seat, hand jerking away when she accidentally laid it atop a small spill of sticky soda. She grimaced, but they both knew she was in no position to complain about the location.

Luck had not divulged to Eve exactly what he'd found out earlier, and he'd only told her that it was important he speak to her as soon as possible. To his relief, she had been the one to suggest they meet that night. Luck had simply picked the meeting place.

Eve was the first to speak. She clasped her hands together and leaned forward. "So do you have any new information? Did you find out anything?"

Luck held up a hand to halt her. Then, he signaled a waitress over and placed an order for a cup of coffee. When he looked at Eve, she only shook her head, and the waitress departed.

Once he'd ensured they'd have at least a few minutes without interruption from a server, Luck decided to get the conversation over with. Best to lead with the knowledge he'd just gotten, instead of circling the issue and dragging it out.

"I did indeed find out some new information, Ms. Eve. That information being, of course, that your brother has been reported missing. And that someone has hired private investigators to look into it. Now, I am sure that you can see what conclusion I have been forced to draw." He said, lips drawn tight and expression locked down.

The young woman looked down, wringing her hands. Her breath caught at the unexpected accusation. Luck's cold gaze cut into her, a verdict all on its own. It knocked her off balance for a second, but she gathered her resolve. She would not let this attorney sentence her without even hearing out her side of the story.

"You're right. My brother Dallas has been missing, and I did put in a call to an investigator to try and find him. But I've already told you, that has nothing to do with what I spoke with you about. Mr. Gandor, you have to believe me - everything I told you was the truth." She said.

"And you don't see why this is a little hard for me to buy? I don't believe in such tidy coincidences. You must understand where I'm coming from."

"And you must understand where I'm coming from. If it was someone from your family, wouldn't you want to do the same?"

'Your family.' At the words, Luck's steel resolve weakened. He'd initially planned on cutting it off right there, telling her he didn't want to be involved any longer. But when it came down to it, in this regard, was he really that much different from her? Sure, at least his relatives weren't scumbags, but even if they were, even if one of them did something utterly unforgivable - Luck ran his finger over the etching once more. He didn't want to finish that thought.

Instead, he said, "What's the connection? Between the so-called corruption you suspect and what happened to your brother."

Before she could answer, the waitress came back and placed the hot cup of coffee down in front of the Gandor. He took it and raised it to his lips, not so much as wincing as it burned his tongue. He kept his eyes on Eve as the waitress departed, trying to analyze her reaction to the confrontation.

Eve's shoulders relaxed a bit, the color returning to her cheeks. Regardless of her determination to pursue the matter and defend herself, on some level, she still feared that the district attorney would rebuke her for what she hid. Or worse, contact others about the matter and close off any possibility of investigating for good. She decided to choose her words carefully.

"Everything I told you was true. Every part of it. The only thing is, well -I did have another reason for reporting it. One that has to do with my brother's disappearance."

"Well, Miss Eve, that is rather obvious. I'd advise you to disclose everything right now, because I will invariably find out if you are hiding anything else. You can believe that."

"Well, it all goes back to the last time I saw him. Our parents, they aren't in the picture anymore, you see. But I stay at our old home in the city, sometimes. I went there one evening, and he must have let himself in with an old key. He was - Dallas was intoxicated. Again." Her fingers curled tight, eyes cast down.

Luck kept himself perfectly still. The only indicator of his emotion was the unconcealed flash of light that ran across his eyes. He sincerely hoped that Claire never managed to find the girl's brother. Because he feared he'd strangle the man himself if he ever had to cross paths with him again.

Eve continued, "I didn't understand a lot of the things he was saying. He can be hard to understand when he's worked up. But don't get me wrong - he's really a very good person at heart, Mr. Gandor."

'Of course he is. They all are. All the bastards and thieves we put on trial. Did your defense attorney brother teach you that one?' Now it was Luck whose fingers clenched, his fingernail digging into the surface of the table, leaving his own little mark.

"All I know is he kept mentioning the Russo precinct. And how he was going to get back at one of them or something. He kept mentioning one name in particular. A Detective Ladd Russo. Do you know of him?"

Luck nodded. Of course he'd heard of Ladd Russo. Everyone in the department knew who Ladd Russo was. The deranged nephew of the precinct commander, the son of a distinguished officer. Those in the field traded rumors about the detective, most of which pertained to the shaky mental health of the man. How Placido Russo managed to keep him out of trouble was beyond Luck's knowledge. But with the information about the disappearing psychological profiles, he was able to put together some logical guesses. Yes, it was all coming together.

"Well, he talked about this Ladd Russo for a while. But right before he left, he changed the subject, and he said - he promised he'd come visit me in a couple days to talk about how my studies are going. I haven't heard from him since. And that brings us to where we are now." She concluded.

"And has it occurred to you that perhaps your brother just got himself into his usual trouble, Miss Eve? You must excuse me for saying so, but it would not be the first time his predilections have pulled him from the public eye." Luck suggested. "And perhaps he was lying to you about visiting again. It seems a given, all things considered."

Eve met his eyes straight on now, and Luck was surprised to find that when he looked into them, he could not feel pity. Despite all she'd spoken of, there was no despair or betrayal hidden in her gaze. Instead, all Luck could feel was the sheer weight of her faith, of her hope.

"Do you know why I study psychology, Mr. Gandor?" She asked.

Not understanding the relevance of the matter, Luck shook his head. He'd taken a couple semesters of psychology classes back when studying at university, and he found them dreadful. As much as he loved psychology in his literature, he found the actual study rather dry and presumptuous.

"I thought, when I first started, that it would help me better understand my brother, and why he is the way he is. But not just that - I thought it could also give me a way to fix the unhappiness that affected everyone in my family. I was just tired of sitting to the side and watching everyone I loved be torn apart. So, I took a more active role in figuring out what to do."

"Have you considered that maybe your brother is simply a lost cause, Miss Eve?"

"But that's just it, Mr. Gandor. When it comes to family, there is no such thing as a lost cause."

Luck did not know why he should think of his own family at that moment, but he could not prevent himself from picturing their faces. He thought of the sole reason he'd gone into law, despite his lack of passion for the subject: because it would assist his family. Because his family expected it. And he thought of Claire, and how Luck had been able to use his power to keep him from condemnation at the hands of the law. Could he pass judgment on this young woman, wasting her time on a wayward loved one, when he was himself guilty of the same sins?

"What would you do, Mr. Gandor, to protect the ones you love?"

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

He made the decision before his better sense of rationality could step in. "Alright. I still have my doubts about what's going on here, and I still think you're brother is nothing but trash. However, that aside, I'll continue to look into this for you. But I expect you to keep me fully aware of the situation from now on. Do you understand?"

At the unexpected agreement, Eve could not refrain from smiling. She'd fully expected this to be the end of the road for her investigation, and Luck's reactions had planted in her the seeds of fear that her indiscretion would end up reported to the Russo precinct. For all she knew, Luck could very well be planning on doing that. But for now, he'd given her his word, and when she looked at him, she saw a man that she thought she could trust. And that's all that mattered.

"I understand."

Luck nodded. "Good. Now, it's late, and a young woman like you ought to be getting home. Do you need escorting back to your place?"

"No. I have a ride waiting for me. But thank you, Mr. Gandor."

"I'll contact you if anything else comes up. I hope our next meeting will be due to better circumstances, Miss Eve."

"As do I. Thank you."

And so Eve gathered her things and departed, leaving Luck to finish his cup of coffee. As the bitter liquid scorched his mouth, he contemplated what he'd learned from their meeting.

Ladd Russo. Luck always figured he'd hear about the detective getting tangled up in something illicit, if not downright nefarious. He just didn't think he'd be the one spearheading the effort to uncover it. Though, of course, he was wondering if even that was true. How many other parties were tied up in this? Firo, Claire, and Chane, to name three. Already concerned about Firo involving himself with Judge Laforet, Luck did not like the thought that the detective could end up dealing with Ladd Russo too. At least Claire could be absolutely trusted to handle himself, if the situation became dire. Luck would just have to hope that the mess straightened itself up as quickly as possible.

What would he do if one of his closest friends got hurt? If this web of corruption caught and choked one of them?

Tick tock. Tick tock.

Irritated, Luck looked around for the clock that's ticking seemed to pound at his head. But after studying all the walls of the diner, he realized he was mistaken. There was no clock, not anywhere in the place.

Luck threw a few bills down on the table and stood up. Clearly, he needed to get some rest. Tomorrow, he'd start placing calls in and working on the matter. But for tonight, he'd allow himself at least a little bit of calm, before the inevitable storm.

A/N: Hooray for ten chapters! Thank you to all my readers, especially my reviewers - you guys are really the best. I mean it. Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!