She sat in her office with her head in her hands thinking over what had happened between Jim Moriarty and herself as well as what she had said to Sherlock. Yes, in that moment she was harsh and unreasonably cold. She had declared that she would ruin him, but Jim's proclamation that he really wanted him in ruins struck her making her have to face the reasons for her intense dislike of Sherlock Holmes. When had she turned bitter against him? She had found him off but intriguing during school. In fact, she often defended him from the other kids in school, because she wouldn't stand for their treatment just because he was different. She liked that he was different. She had liked what she knew him. So what changed? When had that intrigue turned to anger? She supposed it was when she came back to London, and one of her patience mentioned Sherlock Holmes. He was a consulting detective, or so she was told. The very mention of his name at first brought her interest; she considered looking him up and really getting to know him, but as days moved on, he held no more interest. Rather, she became agitated. She was reminded that there were people who would recognize her, and even worse, there were people that could ruin her and bring up her past. People who were a reminder of what she had done and what she could be.

It wasn't so much anger toward Sherlock as it was anger toward herself. Sherlock was just a reminder of a past she wanted to forget; she wasn't that girl anymore. All she wanted, or thought she wanted, was a calm, peaceful, normal life, but Sherlock could destroy that with a single sentence. He could discredit it her and have her put away. When she looked at him, she was her worst self.

But would he even attempt to use his knowledge to turn her to ruin as she threatened to do to him? Sherlock Holmes was a pain in the ass, but he wasn't cruel. When he was cruel, it was never intentional. Her anger toward him was not justified, and she knew that. Something about him just brought out the worst in her, and the worst her was the most unpleasant, cruel person.

Sighing, Jen stood and left her office. Her secretary tried to stop her to no avail. She found herself walking to 221 Baker Street ignoring the other obligations she had for the day. She had to make this right; she had to warn Sherlock Holmes about Jim Moriarty. She had witnessed the disaster monsters like him cause, and she couldn't see that happen to anyone else. She knocked on the door and was greeted by John.

"Hi, Jen," John said with a smile though he was unsure how to act after witnessing her act toward Sherlock.

"Hi, John. Sherlock here?" she asked in a monotone voice. She wasn't sure what she should be feeling. Anxious? Angry? Forgiving? Shame? Shame for even thinking about letting Jim just toy with Sherlock? Yes, that's what she should be feeling: shame. John gave her a rather confused look before he nodded and let her through the door. He led her upstairs to 221B. She was greeted with something that she couldn't really liken to a mess, but more of they had far too many things fitted on too few shelves. The apartment was littered with numerous books (she even spotted the books she wrote) and numerous things applying to Sherlock's work including chemistry equipment spread across the kitchen table. Sherlock stood in front of laptop behind a desk thinking.

"Sherlock," John said. He paused and looked up his eyes fell on Jen. His face turned into a mix of disgust and irritation.

"What are you doing here?" he sneered. Oh, how to even start? The whole situation was a bit of a mess, and she didn't have a doubt that Sherlock would take a good deal of convincing if her warning was to do any good. She wasn't even sure if he'd listen but making some sort of a effort was a start, wasn't it?

"I came to warn you," she replied simply though she felt awkward about this whole thing, "about a man, Molly's 'gay' boyfriend. I believe he's a danger to you. He's not who you think he is."

"Oh really?" he asked clear that he didn't believe her. "Then who is he?"

"He's a psychopath named James Moriarty," she replied. Sherlock paused before he walked around his desk to approach her.

"Where did you hear that name?" Sherlock demanded gripping her shoulders tight. He looked a bit mad; she realized he had heard this name before. He had heard it in a way that could make him either excited or scared or angry maybe? She couldn't tell what emotion he was running on right now, but it was definitely some sort of emotion.

"He told me his name," she replied unsure if he knew if Jim was Moriarty or if Sherlock had simply heard it. "James Moriarty."

"Don't try and make a fool out of me," he replied harshly. "Where did you hear that name?"

"I'm not trying to make a fool out of you!" she shouted hitting his hands from her shoulders. "I'm trying to help you, you stupid prat!"

"And why would you want to help me when you claim to want to ruin me?" he asked her. Anger was rolling off him.

"I won't lie; I let anger get the best of me," she admitted, "but if you don't listen to me, he'll kill you. He's not a man, Mr. Holmes; he's a demon. Jim Moriarty assisted in the destruction of my life."

"And you expect me to just take your word?" he asked her. "You expect me to believe that a man who left me his number after Molly so elegantly attempted to introduced him is a psychopath and is Moriarty? What do you take me for? If Moriarty was standing in front of me, I would know." Of course he didn't believe her; he had every right to distrust her. She never earned any trust from him, quite the opposite actually, and to be completely honest, the whole thing sounded rather ridiculous. That's the thing with men like Moriarty, wasn't it? They were so intelligently arrogant that they could do something like hand their name and number out to their enemies, and anyone who attempted to tell him the truth was thought of us mad or, in this case, a conspirator. She opened her mouth ready to respond but wasn't sure what to say. This was going exactly how she imagined it would. "At least make your lie believable, Ginny," he snapped before turning back to his desk. He didn't intend to waste anymore time on her. "Now get out." Jen shook her head; she tried to bury her anger toward him and this is what she gets? This is why she didn't bother.

"Know what?" she growled. "Fine! But don't blame me if you get killed by a psycho, because you were too much of a pretentious asshole to actually listen to me." She turned on her heels angry again as she marched out of the room and out the house slamming the door behind her. She took a deep breath before she continued walking down the road toward her apartment complex. She needed to rest even if it was just a moment. Maybe she would actually take her medication to even out her emotions.

She waited to cross the street to her apartment complex. She tapped her foot impatiently waiting for the traffic to die down enough to cross. She stepped one foot on the pavement and as if it was a pressure trigger, Boom! An explosion coming from her apartment complex threw her off her feet onto the ground. She was deafened and highly disoriented as the sirens around her blared. She peeled herself off the ground and stumbled into a building before she collapsed back onto the ground. Debris had hit her in a half a dozen places. Her phone went off next to her as it had fallen out of her pocket onto the ground next to her. With what little consciousness she had left, she looked at her phone.

Never let your enemies know how much you know. Just a friendly hint, darling! =D xJim

Jen let her arm fall to her side as paramedics raced to help her, and she fell into darkness.


She hated hospitals; she hated a lot of things, but hospitals were definitely at the top of her list between flying and crowds. However, as much as she hated them, she allowed the doctors sew the wounds shut as well as check for any cracks in her skull. They told her she would be out tomorrow, but she wouldn't even be staying that long in the hospital. Jim had plans for her.

"So the flat and everything in it is destroyed?" Damon asked her over the phone. Where ever he was, it was surprisingly quiet though she knew he was working. He was likely about to talk a deal with a client or fellow 'coworker' or had done the deal already and was now sitting in his office that loomed over the fight ring behind sound proof walls.

"Yes," she replied. He was taking it rather well really. It wasn't surprising. Damon was a very calm person, and more than once, he had been the reason for the destruction of flats they had shared in the past, so he let this one slid.

"You need to find a new flat then," he told her with a sigh, "as soon as possible."

"I'm already working on it," she told him, which wasn't a lie. She had looked in several newspapers at potential flats while in the hospital. She was always on top of things. Her phone beeped letting her know she either had an incoming text message or a call. "Hold on, Damon," she said pulling her phone from her ear to look at the new text.

Come play at the pool, hun. xJim Jen stared at the text with disdain, but she was prepared to deal with Jim Moriarty this time around. As much as she hated to, she would have to cash in a favor.

"Listen, Damon, I've got to go. Don't worry about it," she told him. "I'll keep looking for flats. Bye." She hung up before he could respond. She quickly dialed a different number in her phone.

"Hello?" a tired male voice asked on the other line. It was a voice she hadn't heard in ages.

"The pack is stronger together but draws more attention," she replied. She could hear the phone fall quickly to the ground in shock but was picked back up.

"So we wait until the shadows grow for us to hide," the man replied making her smile.

"Hello, Ulric. This is Lupa."

"Lupa, but you're supposed to be-"

"First rule is that we all lie, Ulric. Now listen," she sighed, "I need a favor."


"Ah! You came, you feisty brunette," Jim said as she walked into the pool area. She stood on the other side of the pool out of her hospital clothes and into the nicest professional clothes she owned, a fitted black dress with a red belt around the middle that matched her red pumps, jacket, and lipstick. She looked between John, Sherlock, and Jim. There was a bomb jacket between them. Sherlock was pointing the gun at it while John had a red dot from a sniper on his forehead. She raised an eyebrow and smirked. Show him you're playing. Remain as calm and cocky as possible. Play the part, or you're dead.

"Of course I came," she replied slowly walking around the pool. It wasn't for dramatic effect. The wounds from the debris were still fresh, and she didn't want to move to fast cause her to show pain, weakness. "What do you want me here for? To kill me as well?"

"I figure two birds, one stone," he told her. "You caught on to me a little too quickly, and then you ran off to Sherlock like a naughty little girl. Good thing he thought you were lying," he sang. "So I figured, I would take you out of the picture as well, Doctor."

"Call me Jen," she told him.

"Jen and Jim," he laughed. "You and I could be quite the duo."

"Well, there nothing sexier than a psychopath who can get things done. I like a man with power," she remarked playing his game. She wasn't a novice in these games, and she hated these games, but she would play them if she had to. "Except, I need a man who can beat me, and you've lost, James," she told him finally reaching them. She stood closest to Jim

"I've lost!" he asked his emotions suddenly turning on a dime, and it was exhausting Jen. Her own emotions were going at a rapid speed. "What do you mean I've lost!?"

"Keep your emotions in check, James. Really," she replied with a frown, "it's disappointing."

"I wouldn't want to disappoint you, would I?" he asked her calming down as she finally stood but a foot from him.

"No, it would be a bad idea," she told him. Hopefully, her favor would pay off, but who knew with these type of men. She held out a singular notecard, and he ripped it out of her hand. His anger fizzled, and he laughed as he read it. "You are audacious. I like that in woman."

"Do go on, James," she breathed amused.

"So you want me to let these two live. It's really just not fair," he whined.

"You're right," she remarked. Play the game. Show him you aren't a toy. Show him you're in charge, and you're not scared of him. "Their lives for that? I think I deserve something of a refund. Oh, I know," she said casually before she slapped him hard across the face making everyone pause as the sound echoed through the pool. Her handprint was left on the side his face in a angry pink mark. "That was for blowing up my flat," she snapped. He laughed as he recovered from her slapping him. Oh, he's laughing. This is good. This is very good. You're winning. Keep it up.

"Now, I have to know: who are you? You're not just some ordinary psychiatrist," he remarked. "There's something more." She smirked. Don't tell him anything important; he'll use it against you.

"Never wandered in the shadows, James. That's where the wolves roam," she told him, and his face warped into shock, and her conscious was raging at her though she kept a mask on. What the fuck did you just do!? Why did you tell him that!?

"Nooo," he said amazed understanding the meaning behind the words. "You? Oh, now that it explains it! So, if I walk out of here, will I be gunned down?"

"Gunned down isn't the way we do things," Jen told him. "You don't know me, so I'll tell you this once. If I want to kill you, you'll be armed, facing me, and have chance. That's not now since you still have gun pointed at John's head." At this, Jim paused before he raised his hand. The red dot left John's head.

"So what now, Jen?" he asked her, and they stared at each other. "What do you really want?" he asked her. "I thought you wanted to ruin Sherlock, but here you are defending him. So what is it you want?" Her eyes went to his jacket, and she gently straightened the Westwood jacket before she looked back up at him keeping her hands on his jacket. He held her in his dark stare, but she didn't let herself drown in those eyes though she had to admit although a complete psychopath the man just had something particularly enticing about him. It was a shame he was on the other side.

"I'll let you know," she replied quietly, "but right now, you have nothing else I want. You'll get it tomorrow." She let go of his jacket and started to turn to the door, but he grabbed her arm tight cutting off her circulation. One last threat, she reminded herself of the typical protocol with these sort of things. She had to be given a reminding incentive to give Moriarty what she promised.

"I'll skin you and turn you into shoes if you've lied," he told her. She smiled as pleasant smile as she could manage to muster as a feeling of panic and anger attempted to overwhelm her. She needed to get out of this man's presence now.

"Oh, I know," she said ripping her arm away to get some sort of distance from him. "Boys," she called to Sherlock and John as she opened the door for them. They simply walked out leaving Jim Moriarty standing there.


A/N: After realizing I wanted to end the top part unto the last chapter at the end, it was too late and was forced to add it on this one to my irritation, buuut anyway hope you liked the chapter! This is the last of the daily updates. Regular weekly updates shall occur every Saturday. So I'll see you in a week! Thanks to reviews from faithful reviewers: TragicBlossoms and SemiraBlake, and thanks to a guest reviewer! Review please!