The last time I had seen my stake it had been in a plastic bag at my hearing, in the hands of Iris Kane. My stake had been produced, drawing forth the prosecution's so-called 'hard evidence'. My stake alone may not have been enough to push this to trial, but for the fact that my fingerprints were all over it. Naturally, as it was my stake, it would have my fingerprints all over it. But the catch-22 was that my fingerprints were the only set on it. Of course, Abe and I knew that was hardly sufficient. It didn't take a genius to figure out that if they wanted to get away with murder, they needed to wear gloves.

I could not imagine why my stake would be outside in the mud. Because it was their most coveted evidence, you would think that they would have it locked up in a safe somewhere with a few guardians planted in front of it. They certainly wouldn't put it past me to try and destroy evidence. And yet, I hadn't done anything. I had found this, and I couldn't figure out why. Dimitri looked just as shocked as me, but he came to attention first, glancing around. "Put it away." He whispered. "We need to get in and get out. We'll worry about that later."

I nodded and stuck the stake in my pocket, feeling like I must be having some kind of dream. I didn't know what it meant, but I did have half a mind to try and destroy it, to throw it somewhere that nobody would ever find it. But even though it was incriminating for me, maybe it would be able to help me too. I could prove that the prosecution was not taking the trial seriously, at the very least.

I made my way to Damon's office on the memory of that first trip, my feet paving their own path. It was not hard to find; the crime scene tape still marked the door, a reminder not to go in there. Since nobody would dare defy guardians, the door wasn't locked. It was assumed that nobody would try to cross the tape in the first place. I moved for the light switch, but Dimitri moved quickly, stopping me from making that mistake. If anybody did happen to see the light on and choose to come investigate the fact that somebody was in Damon's office, I don't think we could get ourselves out of that. Instead, Dimitri pulled a lighter from his pocket.

My face reflected my surprise at that, but the lighter was not pointed in my direction, so he couldn't see it. Dimitri didn't smoke, so I couldn't justify the presence of a lighter in his pocket, no matter how convenient it was. I made a point to ask him about it later. Currently, I was caught up in thought, confused.

Dimitri moved first to the filing cabinets that lined the wall and I moved with him, unable to see anything if I was more than a few inches away from him. For not wanting to condone this trip, Dimitri had a fairly good idea what to do. He moved to find the cabinet that was marked with I's. When he found it, he passed the lighter to me and gave the drawer a firm tug. It came sliding out gracefully, and I moved closer to him so that he could see the names on the folders.

Illinsky, Imogen, Intrit, Iparrish, Iquin, Irlesco, Istrum, Ithenkessy, Iwricks. I looked up at Dimitri, alarmed. There were no Ivashkov's there. I moved the lighter closer, and we checked again. There was no file for the Ivashkovs.

Dimitri closed the cabinet wordlessly and stood up, thoughtful. I stood up after him, and he reached his hand out for the lighter. I let the flame disappear and dropped it into his hand. He flicked it, and as it came to life, moved to the two last filing cabinets in the row. These two were different than the others. While all the others had four large drawers, the last two were split into six drawers each. They were not marked, but Dimitri surveyed them briefly and made his move. He reached for the sixth cabinet and saw the names filed there. I bent down as well, peering at the folder tabs.

Adrian, Nathan, Tatiana, Daniella. There were more in the back, as they were an extensive family, those Ivashkovs, but the ones that I cared for were all up in the front. Dimitri pulled all four folders from the cabinet and set them on the floor. He moved over to the last cabinet and reached for the fourth drawer. I realized this was reserved for the Tarus family. Dimitri removed the files marked Daniella and Damon, and I thought how odd it was that Damon had kept a file on himself. Then again, it was odd that he kept all the royal files separate from the rest. I straightened up, ready to go, but apparently Dimitri and I were not on the same page. I thought we had everything we needed, but Dimitri moved back to the filing cabinet we had originally visited. He pulled open all four drawers until he found what he was looking for. I couldn't see the names of the people, but he withdrew three folders.

"Are you going to steal files on everybody you know?" I asked, giving him an impatient sigh. Dimitri straightened up and tucked all of the folders under his arms, seemingly done. He closed the cabinet and glanced around the office, securing the fact that we had never been there.

I had wanted to look around in Damon's computer, but that was gone. I assumed it must have been carted off as evidence, and so we would have to make do with the antique files we'd already dug up. Dimitri followed me to the door, and I let us out into the hallway, which was lit with a mellow kind of light. The light is what allowed me to read the nameplate on the office across from Damon's. I stopped short, taking it in. Iris Kane. I didn't tell Dimitri of the thoughts I was conceiving, but I moved as if guided to the door. My hand fell upon the doorknob, and I was sure that there was something on the other side that I was supposed to see.

Apparently fate didn't agree. The door was locked. I reached my hand out for Dimitri's lighter and he relinquished it, knowing what I wanted without my even having to speak a word. I flicked it on and pressed it up against the glass, hoping that would allow me to see anything. All it gave me view of were a few feet of blackness. I gave the lighter back to Dimitri. "Do you know how to break in?"

He smiled, one of those rare, genuine gestures, and I was surprised. "You would ask me that."

I frowned. "Is that a yes?"

"If I could break into that office," He mused, "I wouldn't tell you. Your fingerprints are on the door now. And the door to Damon's office. Mine are all over his filing cabinets. And I'm sure the lobby is full of muddy footprints. Isn't that enough?"

I scowled at him, more surprised than hurt. "I need to get in her office."

Dimitri shook his head.

"She was the last person to have my stake!" I hissed, not sure yelling would be appropriate in light of the circumstances. "Then it shows up outside? They're up to something!"

"Who is?"

"Iris, and Damon, and for all I know Tasha and Ambrose too!"

"Not everybody is out to get you." Dimitri said quietly. He still had that amused quality to his voice.

"It sure feels like it." I muttered. But I could tell that I wasn't going to get into Iris' office. Not tonight, at least. "Fine. Let's go back."

For all his talk of our faux pas in leaving incriminating evidence around, he didn't seem to be too worried about our fingerprints on the filing cabinet. I can't imagine why anybody would go looking for the same information we had pulled from them, and so nobody would need to know that anybody had even been in his office. The only thing that was a cause of any worry was when we got back down to the lobby and realized he was right. My mud bath had coated me in muck, and our shoes had left footprints on the floor. By some odd stroke of luck, it was really only on the mat at the entrance, and I kicked it, grinding it against the mat so that it was not obviously visible.

Dimitri nodded, seemingly approving. It didn't look like anybody had been there. The only way you would know we had even been there was if you decided to have a full-on investigation, and since prints and information had already been pulled regarding Damon's case, there was no reason for that. My eyes lingered on the spot in the lobby where I had last seen Mia, and I closed my eyes as Dimitri flung the door open.

Thankfully, we made it back to Lissa's room without incident. I didn't slip, and nobody saw us. We entered the room to Jill laying on the bed, her brown curls hanging over the edge upside down. She was watching Christian, only mildly intrigued. I wondered at first what he was doing, but when I saw all the candles scattered around the room, I figured it out. As if by answer to my mental question, Christian lit all the candles, a rush of fire dancing around the room.

I rolled my eyes. "You better not set Lissa's room on fire." I warned him. Christian smirked, and Jill jumped up to sit on the bed again, looking like she expected us to save her from boredom.

"What happened to you, Rose?" She asked, animated.

"You ditched us to go to the spa?" Christian suggested. I looked at him shrewdly. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing I had slipped.

"I'm going to change." I announced, sliding open the dresser drawer to take out dry, warm clothes that weren't covered in mud. I moved into the bathroom and made short work of changing and discarded the dirty laundry on the floor, sure to grab my stake. When I came out of the bathroom, Dimitri had laid the stack of folders on the table. They had managed to escape any damages of the weather. Christian and Jill were only looking at the files, neither making a move towards them. I slammed my stake on the table, adding it to the things we'd retrieved.

Jill looked confused, but Christian understood. He was too shocked to remember to be a smart-ass as his eyes flickered from the stake, to me, to Dimitri. "What did you do?"

"Relax." I said dismissively. "I didn't steal it."

"The hell you didn't, Rose. That's evidence." He was pointing at the stake, being sure to keep his distance, as if it was evil. I half-expected him to cross himself, but when he didn't, I decided to laugh.

"This is their golden piece of evidence." I said, picking it up. I couldn't help it; I was fascinated by it. "Why would it be outside in the mud?"

"In the mud?" Jill asked, her voice reflecting her shock.

"You found that-"

"Outside." I nodded. "In a mud puddle."

"And you didn't put it there?" Christian asked, in need of some clarification.

"No." I told him honestly. "I haven't seen it since the trial."

"Until now?" He didn't require an answer; it was meant as more of a rhetorical question anyways. Christian let loose a low whistle, looking up at me with a shake of his head. "You should have left it there."

"I couldn't just leave it!" I said, defensive. I knew Christian was right. I really should not have picked it up. Since this was the major thing they had to incriminate me, it would be a field day for the prosecution when they realized it was gone. And if they thought I stole it? I was racking up the charges against me.

"It's done now." Dimitri said levelly, cutting off Christian's comeback.

"But we need to know why it was there?"

"Are you sure it's yours?" He asked, a reasonable inquiry.

"Yes. I mean, it's not mine, but I was using it." I paused, reconfiguring my brain. "It's the one from Russia. The one you sent me!" Dimitri knew well enough which one it was, and my mention of him sending it to me reinforced how he had stalked me. I saw the guilt creep onto his face, but I couldn't reassure him right now.

"Not the one you were given at the academy?"

I shook my head. "That one's probably still in the vault in Russia. I couldn't find mine, so I took this one."

"When was the last time you used it?" Dimitri asked, thoughtful. I thought hard about that; I'd had no cause to use it at school. And at court I had kept it with me at almost all times, but I had no reason to use it. I hadn't used it at school, even in our final trials, because we'd had blunt ended stakes for safety's sake. I guess the next time I had used it would have been…

"When you kidnapped Lissa and Christian. When we attacked. I don't remember using it since then."

Dimitri looked at the ground for a moment, seemingly seeking repentance, and sighed. "What I don't get is how your fingerprints are the only ones on it?"

I shrugged. "Whoever did it wore gloves?"

"No." He shook his head. "The fingerprints would smear. They can last a long time on any surface, but on silver, if anything touches them, they'll smudge."

I frowned, thinking of all the times when Lissa and I had watched CSI when we'd run away from the academy. They always got fingerprints off of guns, which were the same surface as stakes. The detectives wore gloves, too. And they put the evidence in plastic bags, yet they almost always managed to get a good print from it. I made that known to Dimitri.

He laughed; I guess he didn't think my evidence was credible. "You're right. But a stake is different."

"How?" I asked.

"I'll show you." Dimitri said, stepping closer to me. He took the stake and smoothed my palm upwards, placing the stake right in the crook of my hand. "Now the top of it is touching your palm." I nodded, curious as to where he was going with this. "Close your hand, like you're going to use it." I did, tightening my grasp on it instinctively. "Now look. Your hand is all over that."

I frowned. "Yeah, but if you were wearing gloves…"

"If you were wearing gloves, the prints that were on it would smudge." Dimitri said. He was starting to make me feel stupid, because I had no idea what he was getting at.

"But why would they do that on a stake and not a gun?" I asked, beginning to grow frustrated.

"Think about the difference between them. A gun gets set off by a trigger. It only requires pressure of one finger. A stake takes a lot of strength to make a successful hit. You know that you have to put all your weight into it to drive it through the heart. If you put all your weight onto something, and your entirely covering that object, the chances of whatever prints were there being in tact are slim to none. That's the difference."

"So you're saying what, exactly?"

"I'm saying that something about this doesn't sit right. Even if those prints did originally come from you, how could they still be so perfect? They analyzed that evidence in less than twenty four hours."

"So somebody put my fingerprints on it?" I asked, finally feeling like I had the right idea.

"Yes. But there's another thing that bothers me."

"Which is?"

"Fingerprints last a long time."

"We already covered that." I told him, impatient.

"So why aren't mine on it as well?"

I blinked, unsure of what he meant. "Why would yours be on it?"

"Because, I sent it to you. I pulled it out of my chest with my hand and picked it up and sent it to you."

"I'd used it since then." I said dismissively. "Yours would be covered up under mine."

"I don't think they would have," He said softly. I could tell he was thinking as he spoke, which was unusual, because it seemed like he always planned everything he said before it came out. We were polar opposites in that way. "Unless you wiped the stake clean and washed it?" He looked at me for an answer.

I guess it was a little gross, but I didn't worry about cleaning my stake. If I was going to use it on someone, they weren't going to live long enough to worry about whether it was sanitized or not. "No."

"Then my fingerprints should be there. Maybe not in tact, but the analysis would show that they were there."

"Maybe they weren't prominent enough for the court to do anything about it." I suggested.

Dimitri shook his head again. "I just came back from being a strigoi. They didn't trust me, and they still probably don't." It was true; the only reason he didn't have a constant tail of guardians was that the heat with me and the queen's death had taken the spotlight from him. "They would take any chance they could get to incriminate me too, if there was the slightest evidence."

"So now what are you saying?"

"I'm not sure," Dimitri said, "But I think that the stake in your hand, the one that was found in the queen's heart, may not be the same one that was used to kill her."

a/n: Ok, there's a reason it took three days to get this chapter out. I write as I go, and I've been really focusing on this chapter and the more detailed side of things. I try to make everything as accurate as possible, constantly referencing the books and what not. I do mess up, which I'm glad has been pointed out, because it totally went over my head that there are only twelve royal families [Thanks Panderism! :)]. That said, I worked hard to find out this information with the fingerprints, so between work, friends, the boyfriend, family, and the fact that I'll be a sophomore in college in only a week (EEK!) I've been writing when I get the chance, I promise. So I'm sorry when you guys get mad at me. It makes me sad. I do my best, and I appreciate all that you guys do, but I try to stay true to the characters and the dilemmas they're going through. I think "if i were [insert character name], then in these circumstances I would do this..." So I know it can be hit and miss. I love the constructive criticism so I know how to improve, but know that I try my hardest not to let you down! ;) Here's hoping you liked chapter thirty eight. A lot of prep went into it, and it's a little longer than most, although this note is a novel in itself. That said, I'll shut up! Oh wait, just kidding...we broke FOUR HUNDRED! You guys are AMAZING! Ok, I'm done now! =]

much love to you all, BelleCeline