A/N - Hey guys. Things are moving rather quickly in this story - I can barely keep up with the ideas running through my brain. And after agging work yesterday, for the first time in a very long time, I was able to get more writing done. Still no end in sight as of yet but it is getting there.

So as always my friends,

Read, enjoy and review!

Chapter Fourteen – Don't Leave Home

On a hunch, Peter decided to go back to the Freelancer's laboratory. What he saw surprised him. Pressed up against the same wall they had found her last time, Felicity was in a rather intimate situation with a young man. Limbs tangled together, hands disappearing under clothing, completely oblivious to the world around them. Peter parked the truck and approached them, waiting for them to hear his footfalls. When he got close enough to identify the young man, he cleared his throat.

"Hi Felicity. Dexter"

Dexter jumped away from Felicity, instantly releasing her. Felicity, on the other hand, rearranged her top with a casual ease before pulling out a packet of smokes from her front pocket and lighting it.

"You're back."

"I have a few more questions for you about Dr Freelancer."

Dexter glanced at Peter before skittering back into the research centre. Peter moved closer, shifting his body to lean against the wall as Felicity was.

"I want to know what in Dr Freelancer was broken."

He caught her frown out of the corner of his eye.

"He was fine."

"His son said something to me today and you must know the truth."

Felicity took a deep drag from her smoke.

"Sleeping with someone is not as intimate as people seem to think. He was a private man. His walls were always up."

"And you never tried to get through them?"

Felicity rolled against the wall so she was leaning on her shoulder.

"Are you with someone Mr Bishop?"

"Peter. And yes, I'm married."

"And how long did it take you to get her walls down?"

Peter's memory traced the line that was himself and Olivia. It took years for those walls to shift and eventually collapse entirely. But sometimes, if he looked hard enough, he could still see the old foundations.

"Quite a while."

"Well, it was far worse with Duncan. His idea of pillow talk was trying to figure out that damn serum of his."

"He told his son that he was broken."

"His son is five, what does he know?"

"More than you apparently."

Felicity finished the smoke and promptly lit another one.

"You don't have to know everything about someone to love them. I loved Duncan and he loved me."

Peter cleared his throat.

"Would you consider him dangerous?"

"No. He was a good man."

Peter frowned.

"So if you loved Duncan so much, why are you with Dexter?"

Felicity smiled slightly.

"A girls got to have a hobby right? I'm young. I bounce back fast."

"Obviously. Do you have any idea where Dr Freelancer would go?"

Felicity shook her head.

"There were only a few places you could find him. His home, here and a café in town."

"What café?"

Felicity shook her head.

"Doesn't matter. He's not there. It was the first place I looked."

"Anywhere else? Other properties?"

"No. He wasn't a fan of change."

Peter was still frowning and processing when his phone rang.

"Bishop."

"It's Broyles."

"What's happened now?"

"We have another victim. Only, this one is different."

"How so?"

"She's been eaten."

Peter knew that this particular image would stay in his mind tonight. The woman was a jogger, her legs lying at odd angles, giving Peter the impression that she was tackled as she ran. There was dirt all over her clothes as well, giving the horrible concept of the struggle that the woman was involved in. Unlike the other victims, her throat was intact. It was her abdomen that took the killing wound. Her internal organs, what was left of them anyway, spilled on the ground around her, her belly now an empty shell.

"Her name is Annika Cameron."

Peter glanced up to find Broyles standing over him, casting a long shadow in the afternoon sun.

"This is different from the others."

"Any theories?"

"A few. But I'll need to get back to Walter for that one. Did anyone hear or see anything?"

"No."

Peter looked around, understanding why. The area where Annika chose to jog was an isolated one, away from the human traffic of the city.

"Bad place to be attacked."

Peter stood and moved away from the body and onto the little slope nearby, trying to get a better view of the scene. He could see the point further up the track where she was initially attacked and the drag marks as she tried to move away. He could see the clear indentations made by her hands as she fought for her life. The prints he saw confused her for a moment until he realised what they were.

"She was attacked by another woman."

"How do you figure that?"

"Those prints are made by high heels. That's why she stopped."

"And got killed for her troubles."

"Exactly. And now I am horribly concerned."

"How does this concern you but not the other murders?"

"Don't get me wrong. The whole thing is concerning but this means that there has been a an escalation. Did Astrid tell you how many people were enrolled in this trial?"

"No."

"Two hundred."

Broyles swore.

"Now I understand your concern."

"And judging by this, it's going to the very place that I was worried about."

"Where?"

Peter glanced at Broyles.

"You ever see Dawn of The Dead?"

With instructions to deliver the body to the lab, Peter headed home to check on Olivia. He wanted to see her. After the horrific crime scene, he wanted nothing more than to see her face. Rachel's car was still in the driveway when he pulled in. He paused at the threshold of their home long enough to take off his coat before heading upstairs. Rachel was watching some terrible soap when he entered, offering him a small smile. Olivia was fast asleep beside her, one hand over her stomach.

"How is she?"

"Absolutely fine. She took one of those sleeping pills."

"Good. She needs to rest."

He moved around the bed, coming to stand next to Olivia. He bent down, giving her a brief kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks Rach."

"No problem. I like what you've done with the room."

Peter smiled.

"Yeah I know. I went overboard."

"I think it's sweet."

Peter moved to the end of the bed, sitting with the a sigh.

"Hard day?"

"You have no idea. I just wanted to check on her. But it looks like you've got her covered."

Rachel smiled.

"Always. Can we talk for a second?"

She nodded towards the kitchen and Peter glanced at Olivia. The pills he had given her were clearly strong ones; she hadn't even stirred while they talked. He placed a quick kiss on her cheek, smoothing back her hair before following Rachel out of the room, closing the door gently behind him. When they had woken up and he had seen the blood, he had never been so scared before in his life. Just the memory of it made pain swell in his chest and his heart pound painfully in his ears. They were his life now. He followed Rachel into the kitchen where she set about making two cups of coffee. That done, she sat across from him.

"I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Sure. What's up?"

Rachel sighed, looking at her mug of coffee.

"How are you doing?"

Peter raised his eyebrows.

"I'm fine. Why? What has Liv been saying?"

"She's feeling a little…insecure. That might be the best word for it."

"Insecure about what?"

"Herself."

"About how she looks you mean?"

"Yes."

Peter took a deep swallow of coffee.

"I try to tell her. She never listens. I'm this close to getting a sky writer to spell it out to her."

"I know. She's still got some of those old walls, doesn't she?"

"I'm still working on those. She's a stubborn creature, your sister."

"I know. But keep knocking. They will eventually come down."

They finished their coffee and with another thank you, Rachel left. Peter hadn't had any word from Walter and he decided to stay home for the rest of the afternoon. He went back outside and retrieved the briefcase of files that he had taken from Freelancer's home laboratory, heading back upstairs. He settled himself beside Olivia and started to read. Most of what he found were nothing more than scribbled notes and ideas, some having nothing to do with his current research. He found a few odds and ends about Alzheimer's and Parkinson's, the core component of the diseases and the similarities. Freelancer seemed deeply obsessed with Alzheimer's and as Peter read the information over and over again, something shifted into place. He got up from the bed and retrieved his laptop, logging in and accessing the internet in a few key strokes. Within a few minutes his suspicions were confirmed. Both of Freelancer's parents had died from Alzheimer's. That was why Freelancer had focused on the disease. Peter kept looking and found that Alzheimer's, though not hereditary, would increase in likelihood if it ran through families. Freelancer, with both parents passing from the disease, had a fifty percent chance of developing the disease himself. He jumped when his phone rang, grabbing it before it could ring too long and wake up Olivia.

"Bishop."

"Peter, it's Astrid. I've been doing some digging about the trial subjects."

"Did you find names?"

"No. Still in numbers and codes. But according to the health records that I found in the research database, every single person had some sort of brain damage."

"How so?"

He heard a soft rustling of papers.

"According to his medical history, Brian was in car accident as a teen, causing some slight damage. And it looks like everyone else was the same."

"So he was testing on human subjects but not healthy ones?"

"Exactly."

"I guess that would make sense considering that whole idea of the serum was to fix something broken in the brain."

"That's what I figured too."

"Thanks. How are you feeling?"

"Fine. How is Olivia?"

He glanced at his sleeping wife.

"Fast asleep."

"She needs the rest."

"My words's exactly. Call me if anything changes."

"Will do."

Peter put his phone back on the bedside table and threw himself back unto Freelancer's research.