I learned a few days ago that Derek is among our readers. I am both flattered and terrified! (If you notice a sudden influx of boob jokes, blame him.)

Hansard turned to look at her as soon as her shoe hit the step. His face was a mask, just pleasant features, the barest hint of a smile. She pictured him wrinkling her nose at her, and the image made her straighten up and abandon any fear she had of talking to him. She wasn't dealing with this, not today.

"Miss Cain," he said. "So nice of you to leave your car."

If he wanted an explanation, she wasn't giving him one. Asshole.

Hansard was nonplussed. "You must admit," he said, picking up on her rage, "this meeting is a little strange, from my perspective? I had nothing negative to report immediately after I had debriefed you. Skulduggery had called me a few times with information over the first few days, asking for clarification, told me you would be investigating as soon as possible. And then Thursday rolls around…" He paused, possibly for effect.

Valkyrie wondered why the hell he hadn't said all this when he was 'alone' with Skulduggery. Probably didn't want to miss the opportunity of making her feel awful.

"...And there I was, thinking you two had solved the case in record time. And yet… nothing. Nothing at all. And that's all it is over the next few days – nothing. And as far as I know, the case has gone nowhere, and when I show up for an explanation, you're hiding in the car and he's…" Hansard trailed off.

"He's what?" Skulduggery said, voice even, controlled. He had turned his façade off while she had been listening to Hansard, and his skull offered no hint at his reaction.

Hansard looked at him, for a long moment, and then paled. "Acting strangely," he said, which Valkyrie thought was his attempt at a save. "I meant nothing by it," he said, a moment later.

It looked like someone was afraid of the Skeleton Detective. Valkyrie couldn't help but grin. It'd explain why he was always perfectly civil to him and… not so much to her.

"I'm just…" Hansard began, "uncertain, I suppose, that this case is going as planned. Tell me honestly, Detectives: Have you discovered or worked on the case at all since I last saw you?"

Valkyrie opened her mouth to protest – it had only been two days – and then shut it. Two days were everything when you were known as one half of the duo who could save the world in less than a weak. She had no excuse.

…Technically, she did, but she had no excuse she actually planned on telling him.

"Well?" Hansard said.

"There has been progress-" Skulduggery began, but Valkyrie cut him off.

"No. No, there actually hasn't. I've had… some personal problems. And I'm holding up the case. I'm sorry. I really am, but this was… out of my control. And I'm doing my best to fix it but the case… hasn't been my priority. I'm sorry."

Hansard was quiet, "Is your family alright?" Hansard asked.

"Yeah. They're fine. …I think. Whatever, not the point."

"What is it, then?"

"You don't need to know," she snapped. All you need to know is that it's my fault. Don't blame him," she said, glancing at Skulduggery. What she had expected to see from her partner was gratitude. A thankful head tilt, at the very least. Instead, he was focused on her, arms pulled towards his center, skull tilted downwards.

Worry.

Valkyrie turned away from him sharply, holding her resolve together with something that felt like desperation. Damn it, she told him she hated it when he worried.

Their client cleared his throat, possibly sensing the awkward. "I think we should talk, Miss Cain," Hansard said. "In private, if your partner will allow?"

There was no way he would, not if he was looking at her like that. "Of course he will," Valkyrie said for him, and dragged Hansard by the arm. "Let's go."

Hansard let her drag him for a few steps, behind a support and out of Skulduggery's earshot (at least, she thought it was. She didn't know if he had super lack-of-ears hearing to match with the super-lack-of-eyes eyesight. She hoped not.)

"Look, I messed up," she said immediately, before he could speak. "But I'll fix it. If I have an extra day I can… resolve my drama and get your cargo. No problem. I can do it."

"I can't give you an extra day, Valkyrie."

"Oh come on!" She said. "Seriously? Seriously? I tell you that something is wrong with me and I'm doing my hardest to make it up, and you don't even listen? Why the hell are you acting like this?"

"Valkyrie."

"You hired me-"

"Valkyrie."

"What?"

He held up his hands. "Please listen to me."

Valkyrie forced her hands down, forced her mouth shut. She was not about to have one of her werefish-freakouts again.

"Thank you," he said, peering at her as if he wasn't sure she had really calmed down. "I can't give you another day," Hansard enunciated. "And that's the end of it."

She straightened up again. "As you've told me eight times already. Try again, and this time, an actual reason why would be nice."

"Will you be telling me what's 'wrong with you'?"

Valkyrie's expression darkened. "It's personal."

"Then it seems we understand each other perfectly."

Valkyrie exhaled out her nose, unbelievably frustrated. "Hansard, just tell me. I already think you're an asshole, I can't judge you any more than that."

He blinked, surprised. A long, awkward silence passed, and Valkyrie shivered underneath her thin jacket.

"Sorry." Valkyrie muttered, not really meaning it.

"...I didn't…" the boy began, "I hadn't… I never intended to come off that way." He put a hand to his face, ran it through his hair. "If my father knew I had… I had trusted you, and it fell through, he'd never trust me with something like this again." He had started to speak faster, his voice losing a bit of its posh cadence. "The truth is, Valkyrie, I can't afford to give you another day because this is all I have. My father reported this to me two weeks before I talked to you two. I tried to find detectives not associated with the Sanctuaries –"

Valkyrie opened her mouth to protest-

"- Who hadn't killed my father's gods…"

And then closed it.

"But none of them could solve it. Some of them disappeared, Vakyrie. Nothing worked. I was so desperate. You were my last resort. I thought... I had assumed it would be easy for you."

It was Valkyrie's turn to feel surprised and awkward. "I… okay, fine, that makes sense and I should have guessed. And I'm… sorry to here that." It sounded insincere, even to her own ears, probably because she had spent the last few days hating him. She switched subjects. "But I don't know how I'm going to solve this in two days, Hansard."

"Then we're in the same boat." He laughed suddenly. "Boat. That's ironic."

Valkyrie frowned at him, wondering if this little outburst (though it had nothing on any of Valkyrie's own in the past few days) had shaken a few screws lose.

"Now that I wear my heart on my sleeve…" Hansard leaned against the support, voice curious. "What is your problem?"

Valkyrie blanched. "I really can't tell you, Hansard."

He smiled without kindness and turned his face away from her. "Oh, no, of course not. My bad for presuming that my trust in you would be returned."

Rolling her eyes, Valkyrie turned her head to look at him. Great. He was right back to being an asshole. "If I could tell you, Hansard, I would. But I can't. We can work together, though. I want to. Please."

Hansard avoided her gaze and was silent. Valkyrie was already trying to figure out if she was going to get Skulduggery involved (at least, she thought, Hansard's fear of him could come in handy).

"You have a few hours," he said suddenly.

Valkyrie frowned. "Wait, what?"

"I'll give you a few more hours. I'll meet you at Monday at sunset. Have coordinates or a picture we can trace." His voice had regained its previous full composure, just like that.

Her client straightened up and straightened his clothes. Valkyrie frowned at him, still confused. "Um, okay. Thank… you?"

"I told you, Miss Cain," he said, evenly, not a trace of the desperation that leaked through his voice earlier. "This is for myself." He brushed past her (gently) and walked up the steps, phone in hand.

She supposed he was calling his driver.

After a few minutes – watching him walk up, wait, and then drive off – she pulled herself together and returned to Skulduggery.

"Hi." Her voice was distracted.

"How did it go?"

"…It… went. He… he has some issues."

Skulduggery's head tilted the slightest degree left. His version of raising an eyebrow.

"Client said it in confidence," she said. "Can't talk about it."

He made a small noise, a little irritated. She grinned. Being a bonafide detective had its advantages – she could use that line and he could nothing about it.

"I wish he didn't drive off so quickly," he said. "He could have helped you with your cure."

"Seriously?"

"Yes," he said, taking his time to reply. "I'm sure you've heard of true love's kiss?"

"Back up slightly," she ordered.

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to hit you. To the left, please."

He side stepped carefully out of her range – he knew exactly how far she could punch, or kick. Valkyrie scowled.

"You two were talking for so long, you know, I thought, maybe his feelings had changed... but I suppose not."

"I hate you."

"I know."

"But I really, really hate you."

"I really, really know."

Valkyrie lunged suddenly, hoping to catch him by surprise, but he just dodged, laughing. She recovered from her failed attempt and glowered at him, arms crossed over her chest.

"Out of the context of your awful and poorly timed joke, is that … seriously a way to cure mermaid-ism?"

"I don't believe so. But I've never heard otherwise, I suppose. Most men don't really survive that kiss."

"Well, good. That would just make me depressed about my sorry love life."

Her partner glanced at her. "Those fairy tale cures – kisses, eye of newt, toe of frog, mermaid tears, fairy wings … never have been confirmed to work. Or maybe they had all been faked, who knows. All of our working cures involve science-magic."

"My favorite words," Valkyrie retorted, and then sighed. "Kenspeckle probably would have been able to fix me in a few days."

"Maybe not," Skulduggery said. He started to pull something out of jacket, and Valkyrie sat herself down on a rock. "It seems that someone wants this cure completely gone. The only evidence I found of it was half erased." He stepped toward her rock, and then tripped. Well, almost. Skulduggery never truly tripped. This was the closest she'd ever seen him get to stumbling, though.

"…Skulduggery," she said, wary. "When was the last time you slept?"

"Over three hundred and fifty years ago," he replied.

Valkyrie rolled her eyes. "I mean meditated."

He was quiet.

"Skulduggery…" Valkyrie repeated.

His answer was very quiet. "…Monday evening, I think."

"Oh my god," she said, burying her face in her hands.

"I've gone much longer," he protested.

"You're spending all day hunting down scraps of paper and you're not sleeping. And nothing is getting done for the case. This is my fault. Demanding that you fixed me." Her voice was low. "Me and my issues messing up your priorities."

Between her fingers, she saw Skulduggery kneel down.

"You," he said softly, "are always my priority."

Valkyrie didn't say anything. She never could when he talked like… that. She just pressed her hands against her face, feeling glad that she was human in this moment, that at least for now, they were back to normal. She felt him sit next to her, his femur brushing against her leg.

"Give me your hand," he instructed, and she did so, still looking away. After a few seconds, she felt a sharp prick.

"Ow! Thank you for the warning," she hissed, voice oozing sarcasm.

"Sorry," he said, "next time I'll ask for my permission to stab you." She watched at her turned her hand over in his own. "Hmm."

"Hmm what?"

"You're not bleeding."

"Maybe you should stab me better."

"That's probably it." Skulduggery tried again, and this time, she was able to brace herself.

"Still nothing," he said, and she could hear a frown in his voice. "It's like your skin is… tougher. Almost…"

"Webbed," she finished for him, feeling pale. "Grand. That's just grand. Let's me make me even more into a freaky fish girl. The cure needs my blood, right?"

"Yes." He went quiet. He was probably wondering if he would have to actually stab her. …Well, that was she was thinking, at least. She clenched her hand into a fist and thought –

And thought.

"Wait. My nails."

Skulduggery looked at her.

"They're all pointy, see? Like, I don't know, talons. I could probably cut myself with that."

"It wouldn't hurt to try, I suppose."

"Unless they're poisoned," she muttered to herself, far past the point of trusting any mermaid anatomy. Biting down on her lip, she brought her index finger onto the base of her thumb –

And swore. "Oh my god," she said, once she had said half a dozen swears and the word "ow" at least twice that. "That hurts. Why does that hurt so much?"

"Your injuries related to this hurt more than usual, don't they?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I'm used to it. Jesus Christ. Okay. Let me try this again."

It had the same results – she quailed before she could draw blood. Surprisingly, no tears came out, either. She wrestled for Skulduggery hand on the third attempt, squeezing hard as she pressed down with her opposite hand.

He squeezed back – his grip tight and bony – and it was enough for her to force herself to keep going. Her nail entered her palm like a dagger, and she shook with a full body shudder. Her nail was pulled up along a few perfect droplets of blood, and Skulduggery released her hand to uncork a vial. She rolled her hand towards it, letting them streak across her palm and into the glass.

Valkyrie wiped her hand against her jeans, glad it was over.

"Are you alright?" Skulduggery asked, replacing the vial in his jacket.

"Ugh." Valkyrie replied.

"Is that an emotion now?"

"At least during this week. How long is this going to take?"

"About three hours," he said, and she sighed with relief. Valkyrie had expected to wait days.

"Good. Excellent. That gives me enough time to find the cargo and get back here."

Skulduggery looked like he was going to protest. But he didn't. "Good," he said. "At least someone is doing the work around here."

Valkyrie smiled at him, feeling almost relaxed. "You have work to do, too. If you lost sleep for me, you better get it done."

He stood, hands in his pockets. "Of course."

"Now turn around."

"You're going to try to hit me again, aren't you?"

"No, I'm going to get naked. Turn around."

She waited until he did so, and then pulled off her jacket and then t-shirt, 'accidentally' smacking her hand into the back of his ribs.

Skulduggery didn't quite turn around, just tilted his head back slightly, making a noise in protest. "You said..."

"Oops," Valkyrie said cheerfully, pulling off her shoes, realizing she had skipped socks. "My bad."

"Right."

She laughed and put her clothes up on the rock, and then quickly ran toward the sea, feet hitting the sand without a sound. She dived as soon as she was in the surf, and she felt the transformation hit with a wave, felt the scales ripple across her flesh. It wasn't as bad, now that she was used to it, now that she knew it was almost over.

Valkyrie turned on her back and waved at Skulduggery, who had gathered her clothes and was turning towards the Bentley. He waved back, and she considered that she might have been completely wrong about him being disgusted with her. It didn't matter either way, though, because she was nearly out of this hell.

Grinning to herself, she slipped beneath the waves and swam towards the colony, feeling refreshed, determined, to fix her mistakes and finally solve this stupid case.

And then she felt a cold hand on her arm, reeling her back. The flesh on Valkyrie's arms erupted in goosebumps.

"So," Darcy said, voice betraying no emotion. "This is where you've been running off to."