"So—you survived."

"I did," Fiona confirmed, taking a sip of the coffee held tightly in one hand, and frowning as she observed the activities of those milling about the site of the shooting she had been involved in the night before, "You sound so surprised."

"Well, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping you'd end up giving those pompous jerks you're going to be calling in-laws what for," Anathema confessed, aware of the slight roll of the eyes that Fiona gave in response, and yet still noting that her companion appeared to be struggling to restrain a laugh, regardless, "Though I suppose keeping up appearances is important with a crowd like that."

"You have no idea."

"That good, then?"

"Better," Fiona quipped, once again downing some of the coffee in the travel mug she held, and tilting her head to the side to attempt stretching some sore muscles in her neck before going on, "You'll never guess what the topic of conversation was."

"Ooh, do tell."

"Fertility."

"Seriously?" Anathema gasped, observing her friend's expression carefully, and frowning as she realized that there was nothing but absolute truth apparent therein, "Good God, Fi, that's—that's awful, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be."

"Why?"

"Because you have absolutely nothing to do with it," Fiona supplied, finally turning to glance at her partner, and donning what she hoped would be a somewhat reassuring smile before going on, "And because I'd be lying if I said the idea didn't cross my mind on occasion, as well."

"But you can't be blaming yourself," Anathema pressed, stepping closer to Fiona in favor of standing directly before her, so that her brown eyes could latch onto Fiona's blue ones before the other woman had a chance to look away, "Fiona, you can't—"

"I'm not."

"Why am I not convinced?"

"I have no idea."

"I call bullshit."

"Call it whatever you like," Fiona said, exhaling around a sigh as she did her best to reach forward and squeeze her friend's forearm, before moving around her to glance at the officers milling around before them once again, "Selena can say whatever she wants. I don't care."

"Really?"

"Really."

"What do you care about, then?" Anathema asked, moving to stand at Fiona's side, and watching as one of the men who had been perusing the rubble a few feet away began to approach, "If you're going to expect me to believe that you're not bothered by what that witch said to you, you've got to give me something to go on, instead."

"I care about finding out exactly why Sandolphon was sent to clear the building, and yet those men who tried to kill us got in, anyway."

"You think he missed something on purpose?"

"I don't know what to think," Fiona admitted, fiddling with the still-warm coffee cup held between both hands, and directing her own gaze towards the man who approached them in the same motion, "But we need to find out what happened, either way."

"Are you prepared to confront Sandolphon if what we find ends up proving him guilty in some way?"

"I don't see how we'll have much of a choice. We can't just let him get away with it, if he is."

"And Gabriel?"

"What about Gabriel?"

"Sandolphon is his partner," Anathema began, aware of the slight stiffening that became so apparent in Fiona's frame, and seeking to alleviate some of that tension by placing a hand upon her partner's arm, "If we suspect him, we might be wise to suspect Gabriel as well."

"If we have to do that, we have to. We need answers no matter what we learn as a result."

"Okay. Well, if you ever decide maybe you want to give this over to someone else—"

"I won't."

"But if you ever do—"

"I won't, Ana," Fiona repeated, hoping that the determination she forced into the words would be readily apparent, whether Anathema chose to recognize it for herself, or not, and turning her attention towards the approaching man, instead, before going on, "What did you find?"

"Not much to go on," Jimmy replied, nodding by way of providing greeting to Anathema, before returning his gaze to Fiona in favor of elaborating further, "Of course, forensics is looking into identifying the men you managed to injure, but—"

"But they've found nothing, yet."

"No. Not yet."

"I suppose it would make it far too easy if they had," Fiona confessed, lifting one hand to drag through dark hair, and exhaling to release some of the pent up tension that had been plaguing her ever since the first shot had been fired the evening before, "Too much good luck, and all that."

"You really believe there is such a thing?"

"How can I not?"

"Back when I was your partner, you seemed quite a bit more optimistic."

"Times are changing, Jimmy. You know that."

"Do I, though?" The young man persisted, shifting just a bit on his feet so that he could glance back at the other men and women still working at gathering up anything that might serve as potential evidence, despite the fact that some sort of gut instinct told him there would not be much to be found, "I've never been much for believing in popular slogans."

"It's not just a slogan if it's the truth."

"That's really the line you're going with?"

"It is," Anathema interjected, her brow furrowing at not only Fiona's apparent trend towards the pessimistic, but also the seeming insistence her former partner from her days as a beat cop seemed to possess to persuade her otherwise, "And I think we all know there are much more pressing things to deal with than personal belief systems, at the moment."

"You're right, of course. I suppose you'll be headed back to the precinct, to see if your friend in the forensics department has found anything, himself?"

"In a bit," Fiona agreed, glancing towards Anathema for a moment, and registering the small nod her partner gave in acknowledgement of the unspoken thought that had just crossed her mind, though she had not yet managed to say it out loud. The two of them had always had an uncanny ability to read one another's thoughts, even without giving verbal confirmation. And although Fiona was still reluctant to say what she was thinking to anyone save the woman stood beside her, she knew she owed it to Jimmy to be truthful as well, if they were to have any chance at getting to the bottom of whatever was going on sooner rather than later.

"If I tell you something, Jimmy, I need to know you'll keep it between the three of us."

"Of course."

"When is your next night off?"

"Tomorrow," Jimmy said, his brow furrowing as he struggled to hide his disappointment that what he had hoped would be a forthcoming reply was now appearing to be anything but, "Why can't you just tell me now?"

"Because I have no idea if I'm right or not. And if I am, we can't risk anyone else overhearing."

"Alright, then. Where do you want to meet?"

"I'll text you," Fiona informed, aware of the skeptical expression that had taken over her former partner's features, and hoping he would not write her off as having gone off the deep end before learning exactly what she had begun to suspect, "You're right, though. Ana and I do need to head back to the precinct."

"I suppose I'll just wait for your text, then?"

"That would probably be a good idea," Anathema suggested, managing a faint smile for the young man standing before them, and then turning back towards Fiona as she spoke once again, "Shall we go?"

"I'll catch up with you in a minute," The dark-haired young woman assured, sparing a look towards her partner to plead with the other woman to simply take her at her word, so that she could remain behind for just a moment longer with the man she trusted more than almost anyone else. Though it was apparent that Anathema was reluctant to do so, she did begin to move back towards where she had parked their car upon arriving earlier that day, only one final glance passing between her, and the duo remaining behind before she had turned from them for good. And after ensuring that she had ventured far enough from where they stood to remain out of earshot, Fiona turned back to face Jimmy, stepping forward to ensure he could hear her even though her voice had dropped to a tone just barely above that above a whisper.

"I need you to be careful, Jimmy. Something isn't right about this entire thing, and until we find out what that is, none of us are safe."

"Is there a reason you're telling me this after sending your partner away?" Jimmy questioned, apprehension causing a tingle of something not all that far from real concern to trace its way down his spine, though he did what he could to keep his expression neutral in spite of it, "Is—is she one of the ones we can't trust?"

"Absolutely not. I trust her with my life."

"Then why—"

"If I'm right, and all of my fears aren't just proof that I'm losing my mind, the more people we gather together to hold secret conversations, the more suspicion we may earn as a result. Jimmy, we—we can't risk that."

"Okay. Okay, I understand," The officer promised, reaching forward to grasp for Fiona's hand, and finding himself surprised that she did not immediately pull away, even though she flinched as soon as full contact had been made, "But can you promise me one thing in return?"

"What's that?"

"I need to know that you're going to be careful, too, Fiona. We didn't come all this way to make stupid mistakes, now."

"No, you're right. We didn't," Fiona consented, returning the squeeze that Jimmy had given her hand with one of her own, before dropping her hand back to her side, and squaring her shoulders before preparing to depart.

"And I won't have it said that either one of us messed up by doing so."

Whether she truly wanted to drag her former partner into this potential fight, or not, Fiona would have been a liar to pretend that she was not more than a little relieved that he was at her side, anyway.

After all, no one ever said that more people on your side ever hurt anyone's cause…

…

"The Devils. Are you serious?"

"I really wish that I wasn't," Newt began, lifting a hand to push his glasses just a bit further up the bridge of his nose, and regarding both Fiona and Anathema with an expression that was so sorrowful it had prompted the both of them to feel almost immediate pity for him in response, "Fingerprint analysis confirmed it."

"But why would they even be involved? It's not like we've done anything to provoke them."

"Unless maybe we have," Anathema cut in, aware of Fiona's startled expression that came about in response to her words, and glancing back towards Newt for just long enough to realize he was watching her attentively as well, before going on, "We are investigating a murder in their territory, in addition to the one on the East Side."

"And Michael said there might be a connection," Fiona supplied, catching on to Anathema's apparent suspicion, just as she had noticed Newt watching her companion rather avidly, as well, "Could you find anything from these new—sources—that was similar to the previous murder?"

"Not yet. But I—I could look, and let you know."

"That would be great, Newt. Thank you."

"Any—any time," Newt replied, once again allowing his attention to drift towards Anathema as he became aware of the fact that she had been eyeing him curiously ever since her partner had made her request, "Was there—was there something you wanted to add, Anathema?"

"No. No, not really. But it occurs to me that if they attacked us at the place where the body of that poor girl was dumped, and if we already have proof that she wasn't killed there—"

"Then they might have known that, and were trying to keep us from finding out."

"Precisely," Anathema agreed, pleased that her partner had caught on to the particular line her thoughts had taken, even though she was reluctant to consider that what they were working to solve was perhaps more complicated than a single one of them knew off-hand, "But that still doesn't tell us why they would care one way or another. It's not usually in the nature of a gang to cover their tracks when they're trying to make a statement."

"What statement could they possibly have to make to the families of two young girls, with seemingly no connection between them?"

"That's what we need to find out," Fiona replied, managing a faint smile for Newt's benefit as she took in the obvious vehemence behind his inquiry, and found herself once again marveling at the fact that, whether he was fearful of what they might find in their investigation, or not, he appeared determined to press on, regardless, "That's why we need you to try and find something that links those two girls, no matter what."

"Okay. I—I'll try my best," Newt stated, glancing down at the papers that had been strewn across the tabletop resting between them, and swallowing as if to steel his nerves before glancing back towards his two companions once more, "I'll work all night, if I have to."

"You don't have to do that, Newt."

"Why not? The two of you probably will."

"Well, if we do, we'll be sure to get a jumbo cup of coffee, just for you," Anathema teased, her expression turning from one of good humor, to shock, as Newt's cheeks turned a rather brilliant shade of pink in response to her words, "And maybe a donut or two?"

"Is that your way of—of suggesting I fall into the typical stereotype of anyone on the police force?"

"Well, technically, no."

"I think what Anathema meant was that we wouldn't expect you to pull an all-nighter with us, without providing you some of the sustenance we take part in ourselves," Fiona interjected, suppressing her would-be amusement over the goings-on between her two friends, in favor of going on, "Misery loves company, after all."

"I—yes. Yes, I suppose it does."

"Right. Well, now that we've got that settled, I think the two of us had best head back upstairs before Michael comes looking for us, herself," Anathema offered, catching the significant questioning glance that Fiona sent her way as a result of her apparent desire to get out of the basement, and finding herself abundantly grateful that her partner had no comment to offer on the matter, herself, "You'll let one of us know if you find anything else?"

"I will."

"Good. Well, then, we'll just be off."

Without another word, Anathema turned and headed towards the door of the forensics lab, leaving Fiona to exchange a slightly baffled look with Newt before the other woman followed along in her wake. It would have been a lie to pretend that Fiona did not suspect why her partner had suddenly become so flustered, though she was wise enough to avoid mentioning the topic at the moment, knowing that Anathema would only use the case they were working as an excuse to ignore the matter, entirely. And so, in spite of the small bit of amusement she had gained, Fiona forced her attention away from it, at least for the time-being, her thoughts once again drifting back to the task at hand as the two of them headed back upstairs to get back to work before anyone could dare to accuse them of not taking things seriously.

Amusement and more pleasant thoughts aside, Fiona would be damned if she allowed anyone to think that she was not doing her job.

…

Some unknown amount of time later, Fiona sat ensconced at her desk, her teeth chewing at her thumbnail as she flicked through the images Newt had sent to her email account, and tried not to focus upon the fact that her suspicion had, at least for the moment, been proven correct. The murders were, in fact connected, and that meant that The Devils had been behind them both, just as they had been behind the attack on her, Anathema and Newt the night before. And, almost as soon as the thought had cemented itself within her mind, Fiona found herself wincing as a sudden pain began to throb in her arm where she had been shot, her brow furrowing as she tried to shove aside the foolish notion that the wound had begun to demand attention because of the particular line of her thoughts.

If she truly did not want her colleagues to think she had gone every bit as batty as they already seemed to believe Shadwell was, Fiona knew that she had to put a stop to such thoughts before they took hold, entirely.

Frowning as she glanced away from the computer screen, and realized that now she was, well and truly alone, Fiona stifled the tremor of apprehension that rippled through her frame in response to the discovery, her attention turning towards shutting the computer down and preparing to depart so that she would not risk the ire of her employer by earning too many hours in overtime. In truth, she had hardly noticed as everyone else began to leave for the day, only diverting her attention for long enough to accept Anathema's offer to stay, and turning it down as she knew her partner had a long-standing dinner date with her mother that night. But now that she was, in fact, on her own, the young woman was possessed with a desire to leave, herself, a slight shiver passing through her frame as she rose from her seat and reached for her jacket and her purse, before heading towards the door, and shutting the lights off at the switch as she went.

Once she had closed, and locked the doors behind her, and made her way through the main atrium towards the front exit, Fiona found herself slowing her pace just a bit as a sudden idea came to mind, her teeth worrying at her lower lip for a moment as she rummaged in her purse for a moment in search of her cell phone. It had occurred to her that, in light of what she had recently discovered, that perhaps Shadwell's informant would have some means of ferreting out the significance of a gang's involvement in two seemingly unrelated and unnecessary murders, even if that gang was one that rivaled his own. And in spite of the apprehension she might feel over being the one to reach out, first, Fiona was still more reluctant to risk not exploring every possible outlet for information on account of her pride and nerves, her lips pressing together for just a moment before her fingers curled around her phone, and withdrew it from her purse in the same motion.

Scrolling through the recent texts, it was not long until she found the one she had been searching for, her mouth turning up at the corners in spite of the seriousness of her mood as she took note of the message Crowley had apparently decided to send to his own device when they met at the diner to begin the terms of their arrangement. In spite of what she may have expected, she was surprised to see that the entire message consisted of a single cartoon emoji of a snake, neon-green, with yellow eyes and the red of a forked tongue poking out from its tiny mouth. And before she could lose her nerve, Fiona found herself typing out a quick message of her own, before hitting 'send', and stowing the device back inside her purse, her footsteps carrying her the remainder of the way towards the exit so that she might step through those doors, and head off towards her car beneath a sky full of stars.

She could only hope that Crowley would receive the message, and agree to discuss her request in person sooner, rather than later, or they may very well be looking at still more bodies to add to the ones they already had.

…

Well hello again, my wonderful readers! And welcome to a brand new chapter in Fiona's tale! I just wanted to apologize for the brief delay between updates, as I am sure many of you know that the site was acting up recently, and not allowing readers to actually see any new chapters that were put up. As such, rather than have the chapter go missing, or spam your inboxes with notifications after continued attempts to repost, I decided to just wait until the issue was fixed, or at least appeared to be on the surface. Hopefully none of you mind, too much, as I have absolutely no intention of stopping the madness, now…after all, I'm having far too much fun to give up, and I hope that each new installment is equally as fun for you all to read!

As always, my heartfelt thanks to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read, follow, favorite and review this story so far (and special thanks go out to last chapter's reviewers: ChiTown4ever, and phoward, for leaving such wonderful feedback the last time around)! I truly do appreciate the support, and as always, I hope you enjoy this chapter every bit as much as you appear to have enjoyed the last!

Until next time, my darlings…

MOMM