Abby and Edward sat at a table on the edge of the patio at Antonio's. He looked around, subtly, gauging the angle and distance in the burned photograph. Abby sat peering over the top of a pair of dark sunglasses, studiously avoiding eye contact with everyone.

"Um, Abby?" Edward began, hesitantly

"What?" She snapped her gaze to him.

"I think you can take off the dark glasses, if it makes it easier."

"Eddie! We're supposed to be inconspicuous!" She shook her head at him.

He took in her clothing, including the black fingerless gloves she wore and the black lace parasol propped against the chair between them. "As you say."

"I think I've figured it out, though," she told him.

"Did you? I think I may have it as well. Tell me your theory and I'll tell you mine; we'll see if they match."

Abby grinned. "Three tables over. You'd have the correct angle view of the monument, back to the street, facing the hedge. And you'd be out of the view of every camera's tapes we've watched so far."

"My thoughts exactly," Edward agreed. "Now, where do we find a camera that would show the correct scene?" He shifted in his seat and looked back along the sight line. But it was Abby that spotted it first.

"We're looking in the wrong direction!" She pointed to the intersection. "We want the camera from the other street at the intersection. We only took the one from this street, not the cross street." Edward followed where her outstretched arm indicated a camera pointing across the intersection just a short distance away. "It should be wide angle enough to get the patio. Just," Abby explained.

"I think you may be right," he nodded slowly. The others are just a little too close to get the entire patio. These edge tables would be cut out of the frame." He turned and smiled, satisfied with the outing's results. "Now that that's settled, would you like to order lunch?"

Abby smiled at him. "Sure, that'd be great!"

He returned her smile. Her good humor was infectious and soon they were laughing over the small salad before their meal.

"So, Eddie, tell me about yourself," she said, as the laughter died away.

"Oh, there's not much to tell, really. I'm afraid I'm just not all that interesting." He gave her a brief smile and looked away.

"Nonsense. Everybody's interesting. Where are you from? Besides England, that is." Abby tried to catch his eye, but he was determined to avoid her gaze.

"Abby…"

"I grew up near a junkyard. Used to love to go through the old wrecks. That's how I got into forensics, you know." She waited for him to respond.

"Really? Your story sounds far more interesting than mine." He watched her with curiosity, but she smiled at him and shook her head.

"Oh no, you're not getting out of it that easy. I really do want to know about you. I just told you that to get the conversation started. You know," she said, as she gestured with her fork, "how much weirder can you get than growing up going through old junkyard wrecks?"

Seeing he wasn't going to escape this conversation, he sighed. "Were you not wealthy then?" he asked, trying to put off his own embarrassment as long as possible. At her headshake, he nodded and continued. "My family wasn't very well off, either." Not like Rhian's or Walter's," he explained quietly. "In fact, we were quite poor when I was a child."

"So? What difference does that make?" Abby took another bite of her salad and made a 'go on' motion with her hand.

"In London it makes a hell of a difference. Education, privilege, everything. It all matters. Everywhere you go. Especially when you work with those who come from the upper classes. It's just ingrained in them to look down on us."

"You're kidding, right? I mean, Ducky's from England and he's not like that."

"I don't know your Ducky well enough to know, Abby," Edward said still quiet. "But I would guess he's from the upper end of the scale and not the lower. As for the prejudice, does it really surprise you? Don't you have prejudice here?"

"Well, yeah I guess we do, but not the way you do. I mean here, it's Any Kid Can Grow Up To Become President. Not that we don't have prejudice here; it's just based on all sorts of dumb things, like the color of people's skin." Abby lapsed into silence as she thought through this. Finally she asked, "Do the people you work with give you a hard time because you're not rich?"

Edward smiled. Abby was a smart girl to pick up on that. "Walter's not such a bad sort," he shrugged. "He means well and doesn't usually let the whole class bias get in the way."

"What about, what was her name?" Abby pushed away her empty salad plate.

"Rhian. She keeps people at arm's length anymore, and she has her reasons. But it makes it easier for her to use that upper class, lower class thing to put me in my place. Especially when things aren't going her way." Edward sighed and smiled up at the waiter who took away their salad plates.

"I understand it, and it doesn't bother me the way it used to. But I would do anything to be their equal. To be able to give my little brother the things that I didn't have." He looked up at Abby. "They have so much and they think so little of it. Gerard, my brother, has so little and works so hard for it. I'm doing all I can to help him."

"Help him what?" Abby sat back as their lunch was placed in front of them. Edward picked up his fork and toyed with his lunch.

"He's putting himself through school to become a doctor." Edward concentrated on his food for a moment.

"That is a lot of hard work," Abby agreed.

"He's very dedicated. And he's earned some scholarships. But not enough to pay for everything. He studies whenever he's not working. And it seems he's always working." He looked up and sighed. "I give him what I can spare, but he knows I don't have a lot either. You don't make much working for her Majesty. At least not in my capacity."

Abby nodded. "I'm sure your brother appreciates everything you do for him."

"I just wish it could be more. He's such a good kid."