A/N: Holy crap. I didn't realize it had been quite so long since I updated. I truly meant to have this finished before the finale. And then the promo was released. And seriously, could ANY of us concentrate after that promo? And then the finale… Suffice it to say, I haven't been able to focus for a long time. Then I had a mini-vacation, and now I'm finally back and working on this. My sincerest apologies for the amount of time it has taken me to update.

However, I have been assured that this chapter was well worth the wait.

The GW refers to the George Washington Bridge.

Though this chapter is being posted un-beta'd, I would like to thank Spunky for the partial pre-read and Mandy for all her help.

Thank you very much for the continued reviews. One chapter to go after this!


Chapter Eleven: Run

"Let me get this straight," Flack said, glancing back and forth between Hawkes and Terra so often that Terra was starting to get motion sick. "Are you seriously telling me that our prime suspect is dead?"

"As a doornail," Terra said, only the slightest bit of irritation in her voice, as she'd already said that very fact three times prior. Apparently Flack thought if he kept asking, she would change her answer.

They had once again gathered in the conference room. Terra had, naturally, alerted Flack to the knowledge that their best and only suspect was currently in the morgue and had been so for several days. Flack had called Taylor to apprise him of the situation; Taylor had assembled the rest of the crew, with the exception of the lab tech – whom Terra suspected was hiding from her, and rightly so – and Bonasera. Now the six of them were trying to puzzle their way through this new development.

Hawkes raised his eyebrows at Terra, clearly amused that she was jumping to conclusions again. "We have to wait for dental records to confirm. The state of the body made a visual ID unreliable."

Danny gave them his patented 'what the fuck' face. "Wait, so how long's he been dead?"

"Sid estimates at least four days," Hawkes said.

"Do you know what that means?" Terra asked, looking pointedly at Taylor. He was nodding, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. She could feel herself starting to smile, too. Things were starting to turn around and go their way. Finally.

"With Pamchenko no longer a suspect, we can enter the murder weapon into evidence again," he replied. He reached for his cell phone. "I'll call Adam, have him dust it for prints."

Terra rolled her eyes, her anger at the lab tech not having dissipated in the past few hours, even with this twist in the case. It was not the first time she had dealt with techs mishandling evidence, and after what happened before, she was bound and determined not to let it happen again. She refused to let another guilty man go free because some lab rat didn't understand the parameters of his job. She snorted without really meaning to, earning herself more than one raised eyebrow. "Oh," she said, when she realized that everyone was staring at her, "it's just… Do you guys seriously only have one tech?"

"If he's been dead four days," Flack began, looking around the room as though waiting for someone to contradict him, "how did his fingerprints end up at a three-day-old crime scene?"

"Simple," Lindsay said. Everyone turned to look at her. "They were planted. By someone who obviously had very close access to Alexi."

Danny nodded. "Probably whoever killed him. Take him out, lift his prints." He pantomimed doing just that. "Trouble is – "

"We can't prove that," Lindsay finished for him. "And we have no idea how his prints were planted."

"I think I can answer that," Hawkes said, casting a quick glance at Terra. She motioned for him to continue. He was the doctor, after all, and he had been the one who realized what had happened to Pamchenko's prints, when the medical examiner mentioned that they had been removed. Hawkes stepped forward, gripping the back of the chair in front of him. "They were sliced off."

Flack made a noise of disbelief in the back of his throat. "Get out of here."

Lindsay put a hand over her mouth; she looked like she was about to be physically ill. Terra had seen a lot of stuff in her time at the FBI, but this was definitely one of the more disturbing things she had ever encountered. "Who would do something like that?"

Hawkes answered that question as well. "Someone with medical training. At first glance, it appeared as though someone had taken a belt sander to the tips of Alexi's fingers. But on closer inspection, Sid and I discovered that the fingerprints themselves had been surgically removed."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Danny said, gesturing madly for Hawkes to stop talking. "What are you saying, Doc?"

"Someone cut off Pamchenko's prints and glued them to his own fingers," Terra explained impatiently, holding up her hand, fingers spread, as a visual aid. "That's how his prints wound up at the scene of a crime he was a little too dead to commit." She jerked her head towards Taylor, who was still on the phone with the lab rat. "And I'd wager that you're probably going to find his prints all over that gun, too."

Danny pursed his lips and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Any salvageable trace from Pamchenko?"

Hawkes shook his head. "Not after being underwater that long. Apparently they found him by accident. They were looking for someone who jumped off the GW and found him instead."

Taylor finally got off the phone with Ross and wandered back into the discussion. "Are we all in agreement that this was someone at the consulate?" he asked.

Terra nodded. "I think that's a fair assumption. The Sh-18, the Hummer fibers…"

"And one of the victims was in a relationship with someone who worked there," Hawkes added.

Lindsay furrowed her brow. "Could this be a love affair gone horribly wrong?"

"Judging by the number of times Sokoloff was shot," Terra mused, "it's a definite possibility." She had to hand it to Monroe – the girl was no slouch in the brains department. That had to be a welcome change for Danny, considering the bimbos he usually dated.

"Hold on," Flack interrupted. "This still doesn't make any sense. Why in God's name would you frame a guy with diplomatic immunity? And if you're going to frame him, why kill him?"

"Maybe killing Pamchenko wasn't part of the plan," Taylor said. "Maybe he found out what the killer was up to, and he had to be silenced."

"Maybe the killer thought we'd stop looking after we found him dead," Danny muttered, collapsing into a nearby chair.

Terra raised her eyebrows. She had learned years ago, when she first met Danny, that he often came up with his best ideas in jest. She guessed it was so that if someone brushed it off, he could claim it was a joke. But she never tossed aside anything he said. He was a lot more intuitive than some people gave him credit for. Not when it came to women, of course, but really, what guy was? "That actually makes sense."

Lindsay smiled a bit, her eyes directed at the ceiling. "Danny making sense? That's a new one."

The wounded look Danny shot in her direction held more mirth than hurt. Terra smirked inwardly. Forcing the two of them together had obviously been a good idea. "I know, hard to believe, right? But what if the killer planned on framing Pamchenko for the sole reason that he had diplomatic immunity?"

"He underestimated us," Taylor murmured. "He probably assumed we would stop investigating when all the evidence tied back to Pamchenko."

Terra smiled in spite of herself. "He obviously doesn't know us very well."

"Still begs the question of who did it," Flack grunted irritably. "Our only suspect is dead. I don't suppose one of you has another one?"

Bonasera sauntered into the room, waving a file folder. "I think I may have one," she said. "Someone who works at the consulate was in the Russian military as a paramedic." She handed the file to Flack. "He has direct access to the Pamchenkos' apartment and – "

"Son of a fucking bitch," Flack growled, shutting the folder with a snap. He met Terra's gaze with a ferocity that startled her, and she was just a little ashamed to admit that it aroused her, too. His eyes burned with the same intensity that they had when they were questioning…

"Kozlov," she snarled. "Foda."

"We had him," Flack said. "We had him and we let him go."

Terra whirled around and kicked the wall with all the strength she could muster, which she regretted instantly, as she was fairly certain she broke a toe. This was not going to happen again. He was not going to get away with this. She was not going to let him get away with this. She couldn't count on a lot of things in life, but she should always be able to count on justice. It had failed her once; she refused to let that happen again.

She knew, deep down, that there had been no evidence connecting Kozlov to the crime, other than his image on an ATM camera two nights before the attack. She knew, logically, that they had no way to hold him, that nothing had been found at his apartment. But that didn't stop the gurgling in her stomach that signaled the return of her ulcer. It didn't stop the blackness from dotting her eyes, blurring her vision, as visions of Jake flashed in her mind.

The blackness scared her. It always had. It was the black spots, the blurred vision, that almost always signaled a total loss of her control. She could count the number of times she had lost control on one hand, but it wasn't something she cared to relive.

She grabbed her jacket from off the back of one of the chairs and stormed towards the door. "Saddle up, Flack. We're going to get this filho da puta if it's the last thing I do."

Flack needed little more persuasion. He roughly shoved the folder back into Bonasera's hands and headed out of the office. Terra pulled her ponytail out from underneath her jacket and moved to follow, but Danny's voice stopped her.

"Don't do anything stupid, Rock," he said, his voice filled with barely veiled concern. She froze mid-step, turning slightly to gaze back at him, before following Flack out the door.


Flack and Terra had been gone all of thirty seconds before Danny reached for his coat. "I'm going with them," he said, and Lindsay could tell, from the determination in his tone, that there would be no arguing with him. It was difficult to argue with Danny under normal circumstances – his stubbornness was legendary – but when he got like this, it was damn near impossible to change his mind. The others seemed to realize this fact at the same time that Lindsay did, because no one attempted to talk him out of going.

She felt the first stirrings of jealousy but quickly clamped down on them; she knew that Danny was concerned for both Flack and Terra. And Lindsay, too, had seen the emptiness in Terra's eyes. She did not know much about the woman, but there was no mistaking what that look could lead to. It was uncanny, really, how much Terra and Danny had in common – for Lindsay had seen that particular look in Danny's eyes once or twice before. Perhaps that explained Danny's concern; he knew what could happen and wanted to stop his friend before she made a costly mistake.

But if Danny accompanied them, he could be caught up in the emptiness of Terra's eyes. Lindsay was not prepared to lose him – not now, not ever. Not if there were something she could do to stop it.

She waited another thirty seconds before she followed Danny out the door. She automatically fell into step with him as he made his way towards the elevator, and taking into account that his legs were considerably longer than hers, therefore his stride was much quicker, it was no easy task to catch up to him.

His eyes flicked briefly to her before he focused on buttoning up his jacket. "What're you doing here, Linds?"

Setting her jaw and speaking with more confidence than she felt, she said, "You'll need someone with a cool head."

He didn't stop, but leveled a defiant gaze at her. "You're not coming."

Anger bubbled in the pit of her stomach. He should know by now that she didn't need anyone's protection, that she was more than capable of taking care of herself. "The hell I'm not."

"Linds," he murmured, and she felt a momentary pang that he continued to address her by the common, shortened form of her name. She preferred it when he called her Montana. Everyone called her Linds, but Montana was a nickname that only Danny used. It was his name for her, and she loved every millisecond it took for the word to escape his lips. "I didn't have a choice last time, but there is no way in hell I'm going to sit idly by and watch you put yourself in danger again. It damn near killed me when you went after Ghedi. If something were to happen to you now, I might actually die."

She couldn't stop the flush that tinted her cheeks pink if her life depended on it, and she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to. But his words resonated with her. Why should he be spared the torture of watching her endanger herself when he was forcing her to face that same pain? "Did it ever occur to you," she said, and she didn't miss the flicker in his eyes, "that I don't want to sit around on my ass, waiting to hear on the police scanner that you've been shot?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, as though attempting to gauge the depths of her concern. She met his gaze, willing herself not to look away, not even to blink, for fear that he would misunderstand what she was trying to say. Their relationship had become a series of misunderstandings. She was determined to end that cycle now.

Caught up in their conversation as she was, Lindsay failed to realize that they had arrived at the elevator until Terra's voice broke into her concentration, causing her and Danny to break their tenuous connection.

"Oh, hell no," Terra grunted, glaring at them from her spot next to the elevator.

"Oh, thank God," Flack said, pushing himself off from the wall. "Messer, talk some sense into her. She won't let me call for backup."

Lindsay snorted with laughter, and Flack scowled at her. She knew she should not have been laughing, but she found it funny that Terra could force Flack, who was nearly a foot taller and weighed quite a bit more, to do anything. She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her giggles, and Flack did not look amused.

Terra raised her eyebrows at Lindsay but quickly turned her attention to Flack. "I told you. Kozlov has no idea that we've found Pamchenko's body. Right now, he doesn't realize that we're onto him. If we show up with half a dozen black and whites and a bevy of heavily armed patrol officers, he's going to run. And I hate when they run."

"So what are we going to do?" Danny asked. "Knock on his door, hope he opens it, and then go, 'Yeah, hi, you killed ten people, mind coming down to the station with us?'"

Lindsay grinned. Most people found Danny's smartass comments obnoxious, but she found them endearing. It was just one of the many facets of Danny's personality that Lindsay was finally allowing herself to discover. She'd told him, earlier, that he didn't need to explain his and Terra's complex relationship – partly because she didn't really want to hear all the sordid details, but also because she'd been mulling over her and Terra's conversation the night before. The other woman's insistence that Danny was in love with Lindsay, coupled with her inability to accept Lindsay's reluctance at exploring her own feelings for him, had Lindsay wondering if perhaps it was possible for two people to be so intricately connected without having deep feelings. She had thought long and hard about it, and though Terra and Danny had a friendly banter, there was very little flirting involved. And the other woman did seem genuinely interested in forcing Danny and Lindsay to face their relationship.

And Terra was right about one thing. Lindsay had waited too long to find a man like Danny; she wasn't about to let him go because there were other women in his life. If Lindsay were honest with herself, she would have to admit that she had ex-boyfriends whom she had never quite been able to extricate from her heart. But that didn't mean she loved Danny any less. How could she have thought that it was only possible to love one person at a time?

"Well," Terra said, rolling her eyes and bringing Lindsay back to the conversation at hand, "I wasn't going to open with that, no."

"If you're not going to call for backup," Lindsay said, "you should at least take us with you. We spent hours in that apartment building, and it never hurts to have extra eyes."

Terra narrowed her eyes, staring at Lindsay with an intensity that frightened her, before sighing in exasperation. "Fine."

The elevator opened with a ping, and the four of them got in.

They drove to Kozlov's in silence, each preoccupied with their own thoughts. Flack drove, his fingers drumming absentmindedly against the steering wheel every time they were forced to stop for traffic. Terra rode shotgun, her forehead resting against the window, her eyes trained on some spot on the pavement. Lindsay fidgeted behind Terra, chewing on her thumb knuckle, her body tensed with nervous energy. Danny hummed softly to himself, his eyes on Lindsay. She could feel them boring through her skull.

Danny took the lead when they arrived at Dmitri's building, heading straight for the apartment on the ground floor that belonged to the landlord. The door was slightly ajar; the apartment, empty.

Danny whistled lowly, flattening himself against the doorframe so that the others could peer inside. "Not a good sign."

There were no obvious signs of struggle – other than the open door – but the scene just did not look right. Lindsay unholstered her gun. She very rarely had to do so, and the action felt foreign to her. "Do you think Dmitri did something to him?"

Terra shook her head, her eyes darting around the empty room. "If he did, it's a good bet he knows we're coming."

The four of them tromped up the stairs to Dmitri's apartment on the tenth floor – Flack leading with Danny bringing up the rear. Lindsay gripped her gun tightly, her palms sweating. Flack quietly opened the door to the tenth floor, and they crept down the dingy hallway, guns drawn. They were almost to Dmitri's apartment when Terra stopped abruptly, and Lindsay nearly crashed into her.

"D'you hear that?" Terra whispered to Lindsay.

Lindsay stopped just shorting of going, "Hear what?" as she realized to what Terra was referring. The hallway was deathly silent. There had to be at least twenty apartments on the floor, yet there were no audible signs of life – no televisions blaring, no loud voices, not even the hum of an air conditioner. Lindsay had lived in New York long enough to know that such silence was not normal. The women exchanged a worried glance before joining the two men at the door.

Flack rapped his knuckles on Dmitri's door. "NYPD," he said brusquely. "Open up, Dmitri. We've got a few more questions for you."

He was met with the same stony silence that could be heard throughout the entire corridor. He knocked again, louder this time, but still there was no response. He raised his eyebrows at Terra. Ordinarily, in this situation, they would have the landlord unlock the door for them. However, Dmitri's landlord was missing.

"Now what?" Lindsay asked.

Terra licked her lips and jerked her head at Danny. "Boomer. Floor."

Danny rolled his eyes and grumbled, "Why do I always end up on floor duty?" But he didn't wait for an answer before sprawling on the floor in front of Dmitri's door. He stayed there for several long moments, staring at the small crack of light between the door and the floor, then glanced up at them. "No signs of movement."

Lindsay helped him to his feet, and he smiled appreciatively at her. But his eyes drifted back to the door. He grinned. "Hey, Terra," he said, "does that lock look busted to you?"

Terra cocked an eyebrow, as though confused, and cast a glance at the lock in question. She smiled slowly, shaking her head. "Now that you mention it, it does look like it's been tampered with."

Lindsay was just about to ask what they were smoking when Terra kneeled in front of the door, producing something from her back pocket. Lindsay squinted, trying to figure out what Terra was doing, as she pulled several silver objects from a leather case. Terra looked at Danny. "Time me."

Danny obligingly dropped his eyes to his wristwatch. He ran his tongue along his lower lip, waited a beat, and said, "Go."

"Are you picking the lock?" Flack asked, his voice slightly hysterical. "You can't do that!"

Terra didn't stop what she was doing. "If you can think of a better suggestion, I'm all ears."

Flack groaned, no doubt thinking of the legal ramifications of Terra's actions, but Lindsay thought that Terra had a point. With no landlord to unlock the door, short of kicking it in, there was no other way inside the apartment. And certainly picking the lock was the same as kicking the door in. She and Flack watched as Terra expertly maneuvered the lockpicks; Danny's eyes remained locked on his watch.

"Where did you even learn how to do that?" Flack asked, a distinct note of admiration in his voice.

"My brother Steve taught me." She answered without breaking her concentration.

"What does he do?" Lindsay asked, intrigued.

"Time."

Lindsay looked expectantly at Danny, waiting for him to announce Terra's time. But when Danny didn't move, Lindsay realized that Terra was answering her question. Lindsay pursed her lips, slightly embarrassed. Terra must have sensed her discomfort, because she smiled. "I can also, should the need ever arise, crack a safe."

Flack raised his eyebrows, a smirk playing on his lips. "When would you ever need to know how to do that?"

"You'd be surprised," Terra said, finally meeting Flack's eyes as the deadbolt slid aside with a click. She turned the knob and opened the door, then grinned and glanced at Danny.

Danny clucked his tongue and lowered his arm. "One minute even."

Terra let out a triumphant cry, standing and returning her tools to her back pocket. "That's a new record."

Flack stepped forward, moving past Terra. Terra, however, elbowed Flack out of the way. He narrowed his eyes at her, but she ignored him, slipping into the apartment, gun leading. Flack, growling, went after her. Lindsay was the last to enter, her eyes darting around the noticeably vacant apartment.

Terra whistled, lowering her gun. "You weren't kidding about this place being clean."

They split up. Lindsay ended up in the bedroom. She noticed that the closet door was only half closed, so she made her way over to it. She was just reaching for the knob when she felt a hand close on her wrist. The startled cry froze in her throat as she realized that it was only Danny. He tugged her backwards, drawing her into the protection of his arms, and nudged the door with his foot. When nothing happened, she felt him relax, his relieved breath warm on her ear. She shivered in spite of herself.

He looked at her, and she felt the full force of his stare all the way to her toes. "You cold?" he asked, his voice lower than usual, his accent thicker.

She shook her head, unable to look away. "No."

His eyes flicked to her lips, and she noted that he had yet to release her. She heard his breathing change, felt her hair stand on end…

"Dammit!" Flack yelled from the next room.

Lindsay and Danny leapt apart as though burned. Lindsay nervously straightened her clothing, and Danny awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. His face was a furious shade of red, and she was sure that hers matched it in hue. They quickly made their way into the next room, where Flack and Terra were standing in front of the open window in the kitchen.

"He went down the fire escape?" Lindsay asked, poking her head out the window. Wherever Kozlov had gone, he had obviously left quite some time ago, as there was no sign of him in any direction.

"Fuck, we're never going to find him now," Flack grunted, slamming his palm into the wall.

"Right," Terra said, her tone distant. As Lindsay glanced back at her, she could almost swear she saw the wheels turning in the other woman's mind. She nodded resolutely, turning to face the men. "We split up. Danny, you and Monroe take the roof. Flack and I will go down to the ground."

Lindsay nodded once, conveying that she understood, and moved to go, but Danny stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Why do we have to take the roof?" he asked.

"Because I hate taking the roof," Terra said simply, in a tone that indicated she thought the answer should have been obvious.

Danny held up his closed fist, and Terra, after a moment, did the same. "What do you want?" Danny asked.

Terra licked her lips. "Odds."

Lindsay fought the urge to roll her eyes. They were playing 'Odds/Evens' to determine who went which direction, while a murderer was running loose. Lindsay glanced at Flack, who looked as though he was about ready to scream. There was a vein in his neck that was throbbing; it was quite unattractive. He caught her gaze and shook his head, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. She wasn't sure if he was angered by the fact that they were wasting time, or that Terra and Danny seemed to exist in their own little world.

She watched them as they shot, searching their actions for any signs that something was there, beneath the surface. But the way they interacted… She couldn't see it. She couldn't see anything, other than friendship. Terra told Lindsay, at the bar, that their last two encounters had extenuating circumstances. Lindsay assumed that one of the circumstances was alcohol, but she wondered what the other ones were. She wondered if she even wanted to know.

She wondered if it even mattered.

"Shit," Terra grumbled, as she threw out one finger to Danny's one. Evens again. Danny had won. He smirked, sticking his tongue out at her, and she thumped him hard on the shoulder. He made a big show of being injured, at which Terra rolled her eyes and turned to Flack. "C'mon, Flack. We got the roof."

"Finally," Flack snarled.

They all left the apartment, splitting up in the stairwell. There was a brief exchange of words of caution, murmurings of, "Be safe" and "Take care of yourself", before they parted ways. Lindsay felt her whole body tense as she and Danny made their way back down the stairs. Aside from her short-lived career as an undercover operative on the blood diamond case back in September, she hadn't really confronted a suspect as dangerous as Dmitri. When she visited James Vackner at the prison, they had been separated by glass. She hadn't done an interrogation in ages. She was nervous and a little bit frightened, though it helped that he would already know that she was a cop, that she was armed, and that Danny would be there.

She could take care of herself. But it was nice to know that someone had her back.

Their footfalls echoed in the stairwell, each step punctuating the silence that had descended. This silence, like the one days before at the bodega, was also tense, but for entirely different reasons. By the time they reached the first floor landing, Lindsay could stand it no longer.

"So…" she began, as conversationally as she could. "You slept with Terra."

Danny turned sharply to look at her, stumbling a bit and nearly falling down the last few stairs. "What, you want to talk about this now?"

Lindsay shrugged, mildly amused at his reaction. Sometimes, it was fun to see how much she could rattle the normally unflappable New Yorker. "You said we could talk about it later. It's later."

Danny licked his lips and fixed her with one of his patented stares – the kind that was so intense it seemed as though all he had to do was concentrate hard enough and her clothes would just vanish. "Actually," he said, slowly and carefully, "if I remember correctly, you were the one who wanted to talk later. And when you said later, I was thinking drinks after shift, not when we're on the tail of a murderer."

She pursed her lips. She had been the one who hadn't wanted to talk back at the lab; she thought it would be inappropriate. But now they were faced with the very real situation of one of them getting shot – or even dying – and they might never get another chance. However, she couldn't resist the opportunity to tease him. "Is that all you want from me?" she asked, attempting to sound wounded. "Drinks? Some laughs?"

She held her breath as she waited for his answer. She knew he wanted more. She just wanted to hear him say it.

He growled in the back of his throat, and damn if it didn't arouse the hell out of her. "Shit, Montana, if that's all you think I want, you don't know me that well."

Lindsay felt her cheeks grow hot, and she wondered if there would ever be a time when Danny didn't make her blush. She couldn't quite meet his eye as she asked, "What do you want?"

She heard his breathing change again, as he slowly ascended the steps to where she stood. She chanced a glance at him and saw that his pupils had dilated, and his irises had turned a smoky cobalt color. He graced her with a delicious grin. "You."

Her breath caught in her throat.

"But that's obvious," he continued, taking another step. "What isn't obvious, Miss Monroe, is what you want."

And suddenly he was there in front of her. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. And then the theme from Rocky blared in the empty stairwell.

Danny groaned loudly, rolling his eyes and flipping his phone open with such force Lindsay was surprised it remained in one piece. "Not a good time," he snapped into the receiver. She couldn't hear Terra's voice on the other end, but from the look on Danny's face, she wasn't relaying good news. "Are you sure about that? Okay, okay, you're sure. Damn, woman. Yes, I got you, all right? Fine." He slipped his phone back in his pocket. "Terra says they spotted Kozlov running towards the abandoned building across the street."

Lindsay swallowed but nodded resolutely. Duty called.

The sunlight was blinding after being indoors, and the heat was oppressive. Lindsay cursed the unseasonable warmth they'd been having lately – it was hard to dress appropriately. The jacket she wore was cumbersome, making her feel sluggish. She could barely keep up with Danny, and they were only going across the street. He drew his gun, and she followed suit, a few steps behind him. They cautiously approached the front door, which was boarded shut.

"Well," Danny said, "he didn't go in that way."

Lindsay rolled her eyes. "You think?"

He glared at her and gestured to the left with his gun. "I'll go around that way, you go the other way, and see if we can find where he went in."

"Are you sure it's a good idea to split up?" she asked. Dmitri had already killed ten people; odds were one or two more wouldn't be a big deal to him. She thought it was best to stay together.

"You scared, Montana?" he asked, rolling his tongue inside his cheek.

She narrowed her eyes and abruptly turned and stalked away from him. She could hear his laughter follow her as she rounded the corner of the building into the alley. She was drowning in sweat from her damn coat, so she quickly discarded it, dropping it to the ground. She'd fetch it later; she wasn't particularly attached to it, and since she'd lost weight recently, it didn't really fit anyway.

She made her way around a dumpster that blocked a large portion of the alley and caught sight of the ladder of the fire escape. It was partially lowered – low enough that someone could reach it by jumping. She glanced around, searching for something that she could stand on, but found nothing. She stared apprehensively at the ladder. She would have to jump.

She crouched and jumped as high as she could, stretching her body as much as possible, straining to reach the bottom rung of the ladder. The tips of her fingers barely brushed it before she fell. She tried again, but got no closer. She took a deep breath and got an idea – a running start. She walked back a considerable distance, then took off running as fast as she could. She leapt, stretching her body to the limits, and managed to only just get her fingers around the rung.

For approximately three seconds. Then everything went dark.


Danny was still smiling as he made his way around his side of the building, his eyes darting around the alley for any signs of movement. He didn't really like the idea of leaving Lindsay alone, but she could take care of herself. That much was evident, since she didn't ever seem to want his help. Plus, he was beginning to think that Terra was full of it. There was no way either she or Flack could be certain that it was Kozlov who had run into this building – not from that height. It was too far.

Besides, Kozlov was probably long gone. If he was smart enough to frame another person for his crime, then he most likely had an escape plan in place long before he suspected the NYPD might be onto him. It was entirely possible that he had disappeared soon after being hauled into the station.

The alley dead-ended in a brick wall that was way too high to climb – but Danny tried nonetheless. After several failed attempts, he concluded it was impossible. And with nothing nearby to provide a boost, it was unlikely whomever Terra thought she had seen had gone this way. He pursed his lips and blew out a breath. This was a gigantic waste of time.

He turned around and saw the stone steps that led down to a basement door. Huh. Spoke too soon. Those kind of staircases were often havens for the homeless, so that could have been who Terra had seen. Danny cautiously peered over the railing. The stairwell was vacant, and the door was open. He debated calling Lindsay, but decided to wait until he was sure he had found something worthwhile. Gun leading, he made his way down the steps, aware of every step he made, desperately trying to keep them as quiet as possible. He peeked inside the basement, but the room was dark. He couldn't see a damn thing.

"Of all times not to have my damn flashlight," he grumbled. He'd never needed it when chasing a suspect before, but maybe he should just start carrying it in his back pocket, if he was going to wind up in these situations. He kept his gun aimed into the room with his right hand and groped for a light switch with his left. After several moments of running his fingers along the wall, they finally made contact. He flipped the switch and flooded the room with light.

He couldn't believe his eyes. The basement in which he now stood looked like a third-rate medical facility. It was filled with equipment that had been considered out-of-date years ago – monitors and tools that were well past their prime, though everything was impeccably clean. There were several discolored spots on the wall, which Danny strongly suspected were blood. He wished he had his kit, though the luminol would be unreliable, because the entire room reeked of bleach. But just going with his gut, he figured that this was where Kozlov had removed Pamchenko's prints – and probably killed him as well.

"How the hell did he get all this stuff?"

Danny walked around the room, examining all the equipment. Without his kit, he wouldn't be able to do much, but he tried to commit as much to memory as possible. They would definitely be back here in a bit.

Movement in the corner caught his eye, and he reacted instinctively, whirling around and leveling his gun and the source of motion. There was someone else in the room. And that someone else was making his way towards the door.

"Freeze! NYPD!"

The guy didn't freeze. They never did. Danny didn't think the phrase, "Freeze, NYPD" had ever worked in the history of the department. The guy fought his way to the door, upending everything in his path in his frenzy to escape. Danny raced to follow, cursing the whole way. The room was contaminated now, any possible evidence destroyed. Mac was going to kick his ass.

He scrambled up the steps after the guy, catching up to him in not time flat. He grabbed him by the wrist and twisted it, pinning his arm behind his back. As the guy struggled against him, Danny caught the familiar whiff of rum – the guy smelled like he had bathed in it. He fought the urge to gag and pushed him against the wall, probably will more force than necessary.

Danny put his face as close to the guy's ear as possible, making sure to breathe through his mouth. "In case you didn't know," he hissed, "'freeze' means 'stop'."

"I didn't do anything!" the guy exclaimed. Danny pulled his head back before the blast of alcohol hit his nose. "I swear!"

"News flash," Danny said, doing a precursory check to make sure the guy wasn't armed. "When you run, you look guilty."

"You were aiming a gun at me!"

"You were at a crime scene!"

"Crime scene?" the guy repeated, sounded genuinely shocked. "I didn't know it was a crime scene! A guy just paid me fifty bucks to trash his room. That's all, I swear!"

Maintaining his death grip on the guy's arm, Danny turned him around and slammed him against the wall again. "A guy? What guy?"

"I don't know. Some guy!"

Danny rolled his eyes. "What did he look like?"

The guy shrugged, albeit with some difficult, since Danny was using one hand to keep him pressed against the wall. "You know. Average."

"Average," Danny intoned, his left hand clenching around the grip of his gun. "Fantastic. You're so very helpful. Remind me to give you the goddamn Medal of Honor." He resisted the urge to knock the guy's head against the wall and struggled to remain calm. He would put pretty good money on the fact that it was Kozlov who had approached him. "Do you remember anything about the guy? Anything at all?"

The guy stared at him, one of his eyes drifted off to the side. "He had weird eyebrows. Like, they were growing together."

Danny remembered Flack telling him that Kozlov had a unibrow. He loosened his grip on the guy's shirt. "Anything else?"

The guy's eyes glazed over, like it was an effort for him to keep his focus on the conversation. "Nope."

"You happen to notice which way he went?"

"Hey, man, all I saw was the money."

Sighing, Danny asked, "You still got it?"

"Yeah," the guy said, reaching into his pocket and producing a fifty-dollar bill. Danny quickly snatched it from the guy's hand. "Hey, what the hell was that for?"

"It's evidence," Danny smirked, waving the bill in the guy's face.

"Am I gonna get it back?"

"Maybe."

There was a sudden boom of thunder, echoing in Danny's eardrums, and instinctively whirled around, attempting to locate the source. It sounded like a gunshot, and it sounded nearby.

Fuck. Lindsay.

While he was distracted, the guy grabbed his fifty back and took off. Danny hardly noticed. He was off in a flash, scrambling towards the front of the building and around the corner. He should not have left her alone. He should have listened to her when she suggested they stay together. He turned into the alley where Lindsay had gone, and something caught on his toe. He looked down in irritation, angry at the inanimate object that hindered his progress, and felt the blood drain from his face. It was Lindsay's jacket.

Lindsay lay crumpled on the ground a short distance away.

Fuck. "Lindsay!"

He ran to her, his heart pounding wildly in his ears. He skidded to a halt and knelt beside her. His fingers instantly went to her slim wrist, feeling for a pulse – he released a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding when he found it to be steady and strong. He did a precursory examination, searching for a wound, but there didn't seem to be one. There was no blood – nothing at all, really – to indicate that she had been shot, so what had happened to her?

Not particularly caring about propriety, or how awkward things currently were between them, he pulled her halfway into his lap, cradling her head in his hands. He lightly stroked her cheek with one finger. "Montana. Lindsay, baby, c'mon, wake up. Lindsay."

Her breathing was deep and even, but she was motionless in his arms. "Lindsay," he tried again, shaking her gently, his anxiety growing with every second she remained unconscious. "Lindsay, wake up. C'mon, Montana, don't leave me. Please don't leave me."

Why won't she wake up?

Lowering his forehead to hers, he whispered his next words. "Did it ever occur to you that I can't live without you? That I don't even want to try?"

Her head dropped back, away from his, and he pulled away in surprise. She shifted in his lap, and despite the dire circumstances, he had to bite his lip to fight the sudden wave of arousal that accompanied her movements. "Lindsay?"

She slowly opened her eyes and met his gaze.

He let out a whoop of joy and immediately touched his lips to hers. It was a quick kiss, but damn he thought his heart might burst, it was beating so fast. He swore stars exploded behind his eyes, and all just from a simple pressing of lips. There was no finesse, no skill in the kiss – nothing he was known for – but he didn't care. It was Lindsay. There was no such thing as a 'simple kiss' with Lindsay.

He pulled away, and even though the kiss had lasted a second at most, he was breathing heavily. His fingers automatically tangled themselves in her curls.

Lindsay's eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted, as she stared at him, and only then did he realize she was clutching the front of his shirt. She blinked a few times and said, "What, um… What was that for?"

Danny didn't answer her question – technically. "Dammit, Linds, don't you ever scare me like that again. What the hell happened to you?"

She brought a hand to the back of her head and winced. He moved his hand around and felt it – a gigantic bump forming at the base of her skull. His fingers barely brushed it, and she cried out in pain, so he quickly withdrew his hand. "What happened?" he asked again.

She sighed, and her eyes drifted upwards. "I hate being short."

He followed her gaze and saw the bottom of the ladder for the fire escape. And he couldn't help it – he started laughing. Here he'd been thinking she was shot, and she had fallen trying to jump up to get the ladder. Granted, a head injury was no laughing matter, but he was so relieved that she wasn't more seriously hurt that he couldn't control it. Soon he was consumed in a fit of laughter that made his sides hurt.

When he finally managed to calm down, Lindsay smacked him on the shoulder. "It's not funny." But her eyes were smiling, and he resisted the urge to pull her into a tighter hug.

"I'm sorry," he said, "but when I heard the gunshot, I thought for sure – "

"Gunshot?" Lindsay repeated, and she tensed in his arms.

Whatever had just occurred to Lindsay suddenly occurred to Danny. "Dammit," he grunted. "Flack and Terra. They're up on the roof."

Lindsay started to slide from his lap, and though Danny was terrified for his friends, he didn't want to lose the contact quite yet. "We have to get up there. Danny, we have to help them."

Danny swallowed and nodded. "But, Linds, you should go to the hospital. You could have a concussion."

"Screw my concussion. We have to help Flack and Terra."

Danny stared at her for about three seconds before he stood up and helped her to her feet. She was already dialing her phone as he handed her the jacket he'd retrieved earlier. She took it from him with a smile. "This is Detective Lindsay Monroe. I'm near the corner of Bowery and Stanton – we have a possible 998. I need backup and a bus right away."


Flack wished he had gone first up the stairs. If he had gone first, then he would have had something else to look at besides Terra's ass. Because she had a very nice one, and it looked amazing in those pants she was wearing. After the second time he tripped, she turned around, fixing him with a look that suggested she thought he was nuts. He smiled sheepishly and gestured with his gun, indicating that she keep moving. She did, thankfully, but not before rolling her eyes.

"Y'know," she said after a while, "you can stare at it all you want, but it'll look the same."

He gave a strangled laugh, embarrassed that she had caught him staring. He hadn't realized she could tell what he was doing. "Well, I don't have much else to look at, back here."

"You might want to concentrate on your feet." He swore he could hear the smile in her voice. "It would be a shame if you fell and chipped those pearly white teeth of yours."

He licked his lips and dropped his eyes to her ass again. "Was that a compliment?"

"Take it as you will," she said, as they finally made it to the roof. Terra opened the door slowly with her shoulder, her left hand clutching her piece. She let Flack go first, his weapon already drawn. He turned completely around, checking the area for any signs of Kozlov, and was dismayed to see that there were at least half a dozen places the little piss-ant could be hiding. He motioned Terra forward with a jerk of his head. Her face fell as she approached him. "Goddamn it. It'll take us ages to search this place."

"Guess we'd better get started then," Flack said.

They stuck close together. There were quite a few service sheds – not to mention the water tower – that could be providing Kozlov with a hiding place, but other than that, the roof offered very little cover. It was safer for them to stay together. And as they walked, Flack wished that, when they had split, they would have had the foresight to stick a CSI with each cop. He wasn't exactly unobservant, but he was used to dealing with people, not evidence. As his eyes swept the roof, he cursed himself for not having a more finely attuned eye. Danny and Lindsay would have been able to spot something that he and Terra might miss.

Then there was the fact that being alone with Terra was not exactly where he wanted to be at the moment. He was still reeling from Scagnetti's revelation earlier that day, wondering how he could have possibly missed all the signs that there was a woman who remained a fairly constant presence in Danny's life for all these years. And the fact that it was possible Danny had told him stories about being in bed with Terra made Flack feel increasingly awkward around her.

But even knowing that she was a big part of Danny's life, even knowing that she had been for a long time and Flack had been none the wiser, didn't change how he felt around her. It didn't change the fact that he couldn't stop looking at her, that he wanted to get to know her better. He was dying to know if some of Danny's stories were true. Danny was right – she was something. She was a lot of things, actually. Most importantly, she was the first woman in months who had really captured his interest, and his mother would smack him upside the head for letting the opportunity pass him by.

Terra's voice interrupted his inner monologue. "Check it out," she said, laying her hand on his forearm to grab his attention. She nodded at the building across the street, which looked to be abandoned. He braced his hands on the ledge, leaned forward slightly, and immediately saw what she was looking at.

A man was crossing the street, glancing around repeatedly, as though to make sure the coast was clear. He stopped once, in the middle of the road, and turned back in the direction from which he had come. Flack couldn't be sure from this distance, but it almost looked like he was looking up at them.

"You think it's Kozlov?" he asked, turning to find that Terra had already opened her phone.

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Can't afford not to check, at this point." She hit a couple of buttons and put the phone to her ear. "Hey. Oh, sorry to interrupt your little lovefest, but Kozlov – you know, the killer we're after – might have gone into the abandoned building across the street. Dammit, Messer, don't question me right now. I'm not in the fucking mood. Just go check it out. You get me? Bite me."

She shut her phone with a snap. Flack pursed his lips. He was beginning to think he had been wrong to be jealous of Danny. Just because the guy had gotten to see a side of Terra that very few people were probably privy to – did that mean Flack had to hold it against him? Danny was a good friend; he clearly had his reasons for keeping his relationship with Terra private. Flack wondered if perhaps Danny had suspected that eventually he and Terra would end up together, and that was why he had never said anything. But then Lindsay had walked up to that tiger cage, and that was the end of that.

"Did you really have sex with Danny in the supply closet?" Damn. He hadn't meant it to come out quite like that.

He would have preferred jumping off the roof to being the recipient of the look that Terra shot him. Her nostrils flared, and her eyes were burning so intensely that they probably could have melted sheet metal. She snorted and stalked away from him, moving across the roof. "I am so not having this conversation right now."

Flack followed her. "I really think we should talk about it." He wanted to hear her side of the story. He wanted to hear from her that there was nothing between her and Danny. He wanted to be able to forget about this whole thing and move on, because he really liked her, and he didn't want to blow his chance because his damn male ego couldn't ignore the fact that she had slept with his best friend.

Terra rolled her eyes and crouched low to check underneath a service shed. Flack was afforded a tantalizing glimpse of the tattoo at the small of her back – which, on closer inspection, did not look as much like Danny's as he originally thought. Now that he knew what it was, he could plainly see the detail of each of the eight dogs.

"You just keep thinking, Butch," she grunted as she straightened. "It's what you're good at."

Flack could only stare after her. She had not just quoted his favorite movie. He groaned inwardly. That settled it. He was gone.

There was a crunch behind him, and Flack froze. He had been so preoccupied with Terra that he'd almost forgotten about Dmitri. He glanced up at Terra, who was also motionless; she turned her head slightly back to look at him, her eyes wide. She'd obviously heard it, too. Somebody was definitely behind him.

He turned as slowly as he could, ducking just in time, as Kozlov swung a baseball bat at his head. He barely had time to recover when Dmitri swung the bat lower – aiming for his stomach – but Flack leapt backwards and out of the way. Kozlov moved quickly, bringing the bat down from overhead, but Flack dodged to the side, catching the Russian's ankle with his own and causing both of them to crash to the ground.

Flack kicked the bat out of Kozlov's reach and into Terra's waiting fingers. Flack watched in astonishment as she smashed it into the side of the service shed, splintering the bat into a dozen pieces. She then hurled the piece still in her hands across the roof. Flack heard it land with a clatter some distance away.

"Bitch," Kozlov snarled, getting to his feet. He advanced toward Terra, but she was ready in a heartbeat, pulling her weapon from her hip holster and leveling it at Dmitri's head. "You don't have the stones to shoot me."

Terra cocked her gun. Her hand was steady, her eyes were cold. Kozlov didn't even flinch – he must have had balls of steel not to be frightened by the look in her eyes. Hell, Flack was scared of her right then. "Try me," she said.

Flack used the opportunity to stand and aim his own gun at the Russian. "It's over, Dmitri," he said, using his most authoritative voice. "We found Pamchenko. We know you killed all those people."

Dmitri laughed, and Flack felt his insides churn. First, this bastard had the nerve to spit in his face, and now he was laughing? Oh… Flack had never wanted so badly to kick a perp's ass. "Oh, you know that, do you? You have no proof."

"You're going to jail, Kozlov," Terra growled. "Assaulting a police officer carries a minimum of three years in prison. By the time you'd be eligible for parole, I'm sure the CSIs will have found more than enough evidence to convict you of murder."

"I cannot go to prison." There was a hitch in Dmitri's voice that Flack recognized as dangerous. He instinctively moved forward, trying to inch his way around the Russian so that he was closer to Terra.

Terra gave an exaggerated shrug. "Well, you will," she said, her tone ice. "We don't take too kindly to multiple homicide here in the States."

Flack took another step closer, moving a little bit to the side. He could see Kozlov's face now, and did not like the look in his eyes. While he was right, in that they had no proof other than gut instinct that he had committed this terrible crime, Flack had no doubt in his mind that he had done this. And the fact that he did not seem at all remorseful for what he had done was chilling. Flack should be used to this by now, but it never ceased to amaze him how many people didn't seem to care one goddamn bit when they took the life of another human being. And this man had taken ten.

"Why'd you do it, Dmitri?" Flack asked, moving another step.

Kozlov inclined his head to the side a bit, looking Flack directly in the eye. "I didn't do anything."

Flack didn't buy it for a second. He had been a cop a long time, and he learned some years ago how to tell when a suspect was lying. Kozlov was lying through his teeth. "Was it about Polina? Did you find out she was nailing Pamchenko?"

That seemed to be the trigger. Dmitri gave a roar of outrage and lunged for Flack's gun. Flack, anticipating the move, managed to dodge it quite easily. What he didn't expect, however, was the roundhouse kick to the abdomen that doubled him over. He managed to keep hold of the gun, drawing it out of Dmitri's reach.

Terra rushed over to help, and it was obvious she had brothers, because her way of helping was to launch into a flying tackle. She caught Kozlov around the legs and brought him crashing to the ground, then scrambled to pin him down. It was a well-executed move that worked very well; unfortunately, she didn't have the bulk to keep him pinned. He threw her off with very little effort and made another grab for Flack's gun. Flack responded with an elbow to Dmitri's chest that left him coughing, giving both Flack and Terra ample time to get to their feet.

But Dmitri recovered more quickly than Flack anticipated. He pushed himself along the roof and swung his legs, bringing both Flack and Terra back to the ground. Flack cracked his head and saw stars for a good twenty seconds. Dammit, he was tired of ending up on his back. He got to his feet as quickly and possible, and though he knew he should help Terra up, the more pressing issue was Kozlov, who was getting away.

Flack took off after him, chasing him in and around the heating pipes, service sheds, and other random oddities that littered a New York City roof. He took a page out of Terra's book and tackled Dmitri. The two became tangled as they rolled across the roof, with Flack finally coming out on top. He reached for his gun and froze.

His holster was empty. Kozlov had somehow managed to procure his gun. Flack felt his heart stop as Kozlov aimed his own gun at him, then quickly jerked his arm to the left and fired over Flack's shoulder.

Terra tried to avoid the bullet, but couldn't quite make it. It caught her in her left shoulder.

The blood rushed to Flack's ears, drowning out her shriek of pain, as he turned around and knocked the gun out of Kozlov's hand. The Russian, however, was no stranger to combat; he effortlessly flipped Flack over his head and scrambled after the weapon. Flack dove for him and caught him round the ankle, but Dmitri kicked him in the face. Flack's hands went to his face for the third time in two days, and he was beginning to wonder if maybe his skull wouldn't just cave in.

Kozlov's fingers closed around the gun, but before he could get a good hold on it, Flack ran at him, kicking the gun away. In response, Kozlov grabbed Flack's ankle and twisted, pulling his legs out from underneath him. Flack landed on his back again. When Dmitri finally managed to stand, Flack kicked him in the balls. He then leapt to his feet, brought his arms together – wrist to elbow – and thumped Dmitri hard in the middle of the back while the man was doubled over. Dmitri collapsed to his knees, his hands still cupping his groin.

Flack went for his gun, but before he could reach it, he was tackled from behind. He threw out his arms to break his fall and only succeeded in scraping the hell out of his forearms as he slid across the roof. He rolled over just in time to see Kozlov coming at him with a particularly sharp piece of his shattered bat, wielding it like a knife. Flack smashed the heel of his hand into Kozlov's nose, and he dropped the weapon. Seizing the opportunity, Flack lunged forward and head-butted him, which considering the monster bruise on the upper half of his face was not his brightest idea.

Dmitri recovered with remarkable speed and backhanded Flack across the face. He tasted blood but paid it no heed, stretching backwards in a last-ditch effort to retrieve his gun. Dmitri, unfortunately, realized what he was doing, and managed to get to it first. He stood up, cocked the gun, and aimed it directly at Flack's chest. Flack's heart stopped again.

Then, quite suddenly, Kozlov screamed. He twisted around, his arms flailing, and Flack saw what the trouble was.

There was a wicked-looking pocketknife embedded right between Kozlov's shoulder blades.

Terra limped towards them, her left arm hanging uselessly at her side. Dmitri, caught up with attempting to remove the blade in his back, didn't even see her approach until she forcefully turned him around. Flack would put good money on the fact that Dmitri probably didn't see her right hook coming, either, until it landed on the bridge of his nose. Kozlov's head whipped around, almost independently from his body, and he fell to the ground, unconscious.

Flack stared up at Terra with a mixture of shock and awe. That she'd managed to put so much force into her punch, considering the amount of pain she must be in, was nothing short of amazing. He cast a glance at Kozlov and decided he should handcuff him now, while he had the chance. He produced his cuffs from his pocket and secured Dmitri's wrists behind his back. The knife was still sticking out of his back, so Flack removed it.

"That," he said, handing the knife back to Terra, "was so cool. I didn't know you could punch like that."

Terra lurched as she took the knife from him, and that's when Flack saw how ashen her face was, and how much blood was soaking the sleeve of her jacket. She blinked and mumbled, "Why did you think Danny calls me Rocky?"

Then she collapsed. Flack caught her before she hit the ground and gently lowered her the rest of the way. Thinking quickly, he removed her jacket and tossed it aside, then yanked at his tie. He tied it tightly around her shoulder, using it as a tourniquet, but she'd already lost a lot of blood. He noticed the blood trail that led across the roof and wondered at how she had even managed to pull herself up.

Damn. He'd lost his cell phone in the scuffle, and he didn't even have his radio. He didn't want to leave her to go look for either, but he had to do something. He couldn't let her bleed to death. He brought his eyes back to her face and saw that she was struggling to keep her eyes open. At last she lost the battle, and her eyes closed.

"No, no," he said, lightly slapping her face. "Come on, Terra, stay with me. Terra!"

She didn't respond, didn't react, but her breathing became shallower. He tried again, using a little more force. "Terra! Come on! You better wake up, dammit. Messer will kick my ass if I let you die."

Flack glanced up to find Danny and Lindsay racing across the roof towards them. Well, Danny was racing – Lindsay was following at a more leisurely jog, and she seemed a bit dazed. Danny skidded to a halt and knelt down beside them. His eyes darted back and forth between Kozlov, lying off to the side, and Terra, cradled in Flack's arms. His face went pale when he saw the blood.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded, as Lindsay appeared at his side.

"What's it look like?" Flack snorted, shaking Terra gently. "Open your eyes, McQueen."

But she didn't open her eyes. She went limp in his arms, her head lolling back, her chest barely moving.

In the distance, Flack heard the wail of a siren.