A/N: So after all that wish fulfillment of Chapter 50, we come crashing down to Terra Firma.

Fun Fact: The girl group was Nuttin Nyce.

I don't have much to say about this one except my plan is to post at least 3 chapters before I go on hiatus.

Thanks for reading, and as always, enjoy x


A week later, 2.20pm, Saturday 12th September, Georgetown University, Washington D.C.

As a victim of three younger brothers' pranks, nosiness and noise, Isabella had no desire to share space with anyone and spent her National Merit scholarship money on a single room on campus. She wasn't being reclusive, far from it; she was already known as the English Freshman who could recite Coleridge after four shots. Her room was the place she practiced the flute for her Music minor and the place Taylor came to when needed to talk. She had decorated it in tie dye and stuck pictures of different women on the wall ranging from Scarlett Johannson to Rita Moreno. He found her room was like her tote bag, you could find anything there. "What's up with the stickers?" He asked – picking up a row of golden stars and smiley faces.

"The kids love them, they have really short attention spans so it helps to give them out every 10 minutes." She led music games at a daycare centre 2 half-days a week. "You're not helping your science geek image you know." She joked, loading Skype. "Library monitor means-"

"Access to hot chicks." He teased her and played with her hair which was down in its relentlessly curly black glory with a middle parting. After a bad dye job and Brazilian blowout at her Quince, she gave up the dream of ever having straight hair.

She rolled her eyes at him. "She's not on, are you sure she said 2.30?"

"She's probably tired or something." He appreciated her single room, not just for the privacy or the sex but for the conversation. He hadn't told Malik about Evelyn and needed to talk to someone who understood. "What if-"

"You promised you wouldn't do that." She reminded him, resting her head on his shoulder and distracting him with online shopping. "How about the building blocks? They make soft ones. Or the musical octopus?"

He kissed her forehead because he knew what she was doing. She allayed his fears about Evelyn's test results, namely her tumor marker test. Dr. Hunter felt enough time had past to investigate if the chemotherapy was working and those were the results that led him there. "The blocks and the lamb." He decided, before drifting away. She'd noticed that Paul did the same thing, sometimes he looked like he was in a different place. She shook him and brought him back.

"Done – they'll arrive at your dad's on Tuesday."

"Cool, Monique loves wrapping gifts and Amy eats everything these days." Paul sent him videos of Amy doing random things, and like Joss he promised not to call him at college, instead hoping Taylor would pick up the phone.

Isabella broached the uncomfortable topic. "You know there are phone lines for family members of people with cancer?"

"I know." He said, casually. He turned to her. "I talk too much, you have your own stuff to deal with."

"No, you don't talk enough. And I get it, 'cause Malik does the same thing. Well...he does the non-talking part." She spoke, perceptively. He fluctuated between appreciating and resenting how well she read him. "Have you seen his dad's speeches? I'm all for the uplifting the community part but he needs to give the homophobic crap a rest."

"I don't need to watch, I had dinner over there." Funmilola's cooking was still second to none but Taylor understood the conflict of washing it down the casual homophobia of two main religions. Malik wore the same shrunken posture when they left, Taylor now recognised it as him taking shelter in his own body.

"What I'm saying is you don't have to wait to come over here to talk about it. And there are plenty of people and places for Malik too. Though if I was him I'd stay in the closet 'til I had enough money to move to San Francisco, or at least Boston." He laughed empathetically. "She's on."

Evelyn appeared on the screen with a bronze and blue scarf wrapped around the back, and tied up into a twisted bun on the top of her head. He recognised it as the Ravenclaw scarf he bought for her birthday years ago, and noticed she didn't have any eyelashes or eyebrows now. Despite her objection to 'hoodoo', she saw Harry Potter as an allegory for Jesus' resurrection and was a avid fan, cajoling Gregory to wear the Hufflepuff pin and watch with her. "Youngblood," Gregory winked, as she waved at the camera; Evelyn was on an emotional upswing. Isabella waved back, suddenly self-conscious they were sitting on the bed.

"It's working." Evelyn announced, forgoing any greetings. "That's what Dr Hunter said."

"Working how?" Taylor found that no matter how much he studied her illness he couldn't commit it to memory.

"The tumors are shrinking, but I have to keep going." She explained. "So, see what I told you about that worrying? 3 down, 3 to go." Even since her mouth sores healed she considered whether she should be gentler with her speech. Upon further reflection she decided she was a messenger and if people didn't like what she had to say they could lump it.

"And Ev's gonna follow the diet plan to the letter." When Gregory made his own announcement, Isabella recognised that epic side-eye she guessed only came with age.

Gregory neglected to tell them that with her 3rd round administered that Monday, if everything went to plan it was unlikely she would be able to cook Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner and they had two less-than-happy holidays ahead of them.

Monday 27th July *

Monday 17th August *

Monday 7th September x Monday 14th September *

Monday 5th October

Monday 26th October

Monday 16th November

Surgery: Monday 28th December

5.19pm, Finch's Penthouse, Tribeca

Finch was running an overhaul of The Machine, the horsepower involved was responsible for a nearby blackout the night before.

"Track them." John ordered, having spent two days away preventing a double homicide in Sleepy Hollow. Neither Joss nor Shaw had answered his calls while he was away and all he found in Shaw's room was two broken phones and two ugly green reptiles with a healthy food supply.

"I can't." Finch replied. "And you could use a more respectful tone."

"You built The Machine. Of course you can." John insisted.

Finch knew he wouldn't like his next answer. "They disabled the GPS and Shaw wrote a rather impressive line of code that tells me to 'mind my own business' when I search for CCTV camera footage of her."

John was flabbergasted. "They don't get to cut themselves off and go out...doing...dangerous things with...automatic weapons."

Finch stifled his laughter at the irony. "I think with her cast off, Detective Carter and Bear, in a '64 Chevy they should all be fine."

John sighed with exasperation. "Did they at least tell you where they were going?"

"When I mentioned the new number had a history of committing armed robberies, all they said was Balboa Savings and Loans and left with those boots Ms Shaw is so fond of." Finch wasn't worried.

John shook his head. "We're gonna have a serious talk about this when she gets home."

"Mr Reese." Finch let the system upgrade run on 8 different screens and poured two glasses of bourbon. "Don't you think it's time you ended this?"

John drank half the glass before asking, "Ended what?"

"The eternal square dance between you and the Detective." He sipped.

"Square dance?"

"Yes. Left, together. Front, together. Right, together. Back, together. Always back at square one."

John drank the rest and poured another. "She's been many things to me over the years. I wouldn't forgive myself if a widow was one of them."

Finch shook his head. "Even if you lived in Ashland permanently and caught fish for a living; you could drown, be struck by lightning or even be mauled by a bear. Death escapes no-one, Mr Rhys. But you already know that." Finch never mentioned Jessica by name. "In my estimation, the most pertinent vow is 'Til Death do us part. In that, two people promise, not to live forever but, to enjoy the rest of their days as one." Finch downed the rest of his drink and retuned to his computer. "But what do I know? I'm just a man who builds Machines for a living."

6.25pm, National Portrait Gallery, Washington D.C.

"Can you say, monobrow?" Taylor asked. The security guard looked at them disapprovingly, which made it harder for her to contain her laughter.

"She was making a statement on male ideals of female beauty." Isabella pulled him past Frida Kahlo. "The monobrow's like a middle finger. Anyway, you look better." She whispered, the room had enough people in it for her voice not to carry.

He shrugged. "I know she said not to think about it, but that just made me think about it more. You know what else I'm thinking about?"

"What?" She was trying to figure out if the grey haired woman with the owl-shaped glasses in the frame was Germaine Greer not without looking at the notes. Sitting in her third Feminist Theory class, she couldn't fathom how she ever thought she'd make it as a doctor.

"October 14th."

She stopped and smiled. "You remembered?" Since he had forgotten most of their dates, she assumed he'd forget their anniversary and she'd spend it somewhere on campus bashing men and watching progressive art-house movies with a group of girls she'd met at a party. He'd watched enough TV to know that that error was the kiss of death. "What are we doing?"

"Something special. It's a surprise." By that, he adopted Paul's definition of "special" as 'something she likes but you don't but you do it anyway because you love her'. He'd bought tickets to the Carole King musical when she described Gregory playing "That song that everyone knows even when they think they don't."

She couldn't stifle her curiosity. "Give me one little clue about where we're going."

"It's in D.C." He said, already knowing one would be ten if she had her way.

"Oh come on...like how much will I like it? Like it? Or like it, like it? Or really like it?"

"Oh look." He swung his head in the opposite direction. "It's Santana."

She elbowed him. "Fine. By the way, I think the solid B plus was harsh. The horse made it at least an A minus."

He'd sent John his grade via text on Tuesday afternoon. "It took him a year and a half to do it, and I can't have him thinking he doesn't have to try anymore."

"Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." The angry security guard stared at them, reminded of his 4th divorce, 1st love and how much he hated teenagers.

7.05pm, Felice's House, Elmont, Queens

Monique reluctantly agreed to babysit, knowing Felice's history she was convinced Raina was going to pop out of a closet but it looked she had gone back to Rochester, leaving just an overnight bag behind. Felice was getting ready for a date, which was usually the first of a series of unfortunate event ranging from upsetting to catastrophic. Felice had notoriously bad taste in men, hence why her Saturdays consisted of child support threats and waiting.

"Trip is the cutest little thing but turn your back for five seconds and he'll...hello." She waved until Monique came back to the room, Felice had fit her dangerous curves into some shapewear. Growing up she told Monique she'd be more popular if she ate more pizza 'cause skinny chicks didn't get any play. Back then, Felice had everything she wanted; a dad who showed up, a boyfriend with a car, a mom who didn't resent her and a bra that didn't need stuffing. "Are you helping me or not?"

"Sure." Monique replied.

"Okay. I've got it down to two dresses." She lifted up a pink and black silhouette bodycon dress and a red ruffle dress. Strappy black stillettos were on the floor. As a certified brickhouse, she supplemented her income as pre-K teacher with fit modelling.

"Not the red one, it's too much for a first date." Monique shrugged and went with her sister's choice. "What do you know about this guy?"

Monique joked. "He's an ass man."

"Seriously. Does he know you've got kids?"

"No. I don't know him like that. That's why I'm taking my car."

"Leece." She said in a tone that was more motherly than sisterly.

"He's a computer tech at the local high school, he drives a sports car and he likes Lover's rock so we're going dancing." Monique made a face Felice didn't like. She was close to reminding her she was a year older. "What? I can't stay cooped up in the house every night 'til cartoon songs come out my ears. Why can't I have some fun without you giving me grief about it?"

Monique sighed. "Sorry. Have fun."

"You could say it like you mean it. I don't complain when you and Paul go out and leave Amy here. And before you go thinking it, I learnt my lesson; I'm not messing with Juvon anymore." Monique remembered him on the couch playing video games.

"You heard from Dalvin and Carl?" She asked about her nieces' and nephew's fathers.

"Dalvin's MIA as usual; if it's not Christmas or her Birthday his ass is Casper. I told him they let Sherane skip the 4th grade, nothing. Well, except the backpack and stationery set and you know who made that happen."

"He always was a mama's boy." Monique said.

"Tell me about it. Matter of fact, tell me how Carl's been late picking them up every week since we split but now we're four hours away he's always on time?"

Monique spoke without thinking. "..Uhh...because his girlfriend's been here the whole time?"

Felice turned around for her to zip up the dress. "Forget that girl, he wants me back. He told me so last week."

"Yeah, so he can stop paying child support and have a free place to stay."

Felice wasn't amused. "Just because you went in on Ma, doesn't mean you have to be so bitchy."

"I'm not. I'm just telling the truth."

"That's the problem. You're so rude about it."

"Huh? Me? What are you talking about?"

"I saw your list. How could you give Ma the list you gave the Nanny? That's so disrespectful."

"I was trying to make her understand how I felt; that I want the best for Amy."

"She already knows you don't respect her, why'd you give her a list of how she failed as a mother? Just to hurt her feelings?"

"I didn't do that. And when's she gonna care about my feelings?"

"She asked to see Amy; so you told her you wouldn't hire her for help. What were you feeling then?" Monique was silent. "Look, I'm happy for you and Paul but you're not an island. You have a family even if you act like we're not there."

Monique was confused. "What?"

"You have 2 nieces and a nephew downstairs who want to know why Amy's having a half-birthday party and they're not invited. You wanna spend September 20th with strangers in a park instead of here with your family 'cause you're avoiding Ma?"

Monique didn't know what to say.

Felice calmed herself down, her annoyance was coming through and her angry resting face was coming back. Monique didn't want to ruin her date.

"Come here." She said. "Your eyeshadow's clashing with your lipstick. Let me do it."

"Your daughter's fine. So she missed a couple milestones; who cares? Let us celebrate with you. And invite her. 'Cause you don't get to pick your family."

"I don't know."

"You don't have to know. She's moving in, so you'll be seeing her whether you like it or not."

"Leese."

Felice's phone vibrated. "That's him!"

9.10pm, Finch's Penthouse, Tribeca.

John had taken his frustration out on Shaw's punching man for the last 50 minutes. "Is this-" Left jab. "What I have-" Right cross. "To look forward to?" Left jab. Right jab. Right upper cut.

Finch hid the bourbon in the cupboard. His only sighting was of Joss and Shaw on the highway in matching all black outfits and sunglasses.

He gave in and called Fusco.

"If it isn't Captain America?" He replied, rarely audibly over the roaring of the Monster Truck show he was at with Lee in Connecticut. "Your timing sucks too."

"Shaw, Carter, you know where they are." John didn't ask, he just stated it as given.

"Is she giving you the silent treatment already?" Fusco asked, glad to know he wasn't the only person with trouble in the love department.

"They've gone rogue. No phones, no signal, no...nothing."

"Maybe they don't want to be bothered." Fusco made a loud order for two corn dogs and hung up.

11.20pm, Georgetown University, Washington D.C.

Taylor couldn't understand why Evelyn's news didn't make him feel better and why he felt so lost. Lying next to her was supposed to be the remedy. She wasn't sleeping. "What are you afraid of?" She asked, facing and reading him again. She volunteered. "I used to be afraid of being stuck with the wrong person. My mom was a Senior when she had me and they had to get married. They love each other but...it's not the same. Sometimes I wonder where she'd be if I was never born; so I guess that's why I'm afraid of getting pregnant."

He kissed her cheek. "I'm afraid of death; I have these dreams where it's everywhere I look, it's all I see."

"There's a good chance of survival Tay." She said, to comfort him.

"I don't think they're about her." He admitted. "I think they're about me. I never told you that a year before you transferred my mom got shot by another cop."

"What happened to them? Did they get caught?" She asked.

He shook his head. "No, he was killed when she was in hospital. But I remember thinking this was it for her."

"Are you afraid of dying?"

"I'm afraid of seeing more people I love die."

She held him for a minute, sharing the silence. "Tay promise me you'll call, 'cause I can't help you."

"You can, you do."

"No, I can't. I know that."

"Bella,"

"I'm not going anywhere but you need help. Real help. Please."