Grimacing as the sound of a shrill beeping cut in through the haze brought about by the alcohol and Madame Tracy's surprisingly tolerable attempt at making dinner, Anthony Crowley pried one eye open and craned his neck around to glance at the coffee table, a low groan escaping as he realized the sound was coming from his phone. In truth, he was half-tempted to ignore the device, the weight of Freya's body leaning against his own on the sofa already starting to lull him back to sleep, despite his lingering curiosity over exactly who it was that may have initiated contact with him at such an hour as this. But, regardless of that desire, Crowley forced himself to nudge gently at Freya's sleeping frame until she had slid from her position with her head resting on his shoulder, to a more haphazard pose resting horizontal upon the sofa cushions, one hand reaching to grab for his phone before it could make another sound and risk waking her, while the other tugged through disheveled red hair in the same motion.

A glance at the glowing screen brought an unbidden smile to his lips as soon as he realized who it was that had sent the message that woke him in the first place, his eyes sliding back to where Freya still slept on the sofa for a moment before he was rising with a muted pop of protest from his spine, and padding into the kitchen to grab a glass of water while reading the message firsthand…

Need to talk. Question about the case. Text when you're free?

"That was fast," Crowley mused, a grin once again tugging at his lips as he turned to lean back against the countertop and mulled over how best to reply. Truthfully, he was more than a little surprised that the young detective had beaten him to the punch when it came to trying to set up a second meet, as he had honestly expected that he would be the one reaching out, instead. But regardless of whether or not events had transpired as he had imagined, Crowley would have been a liar to pretend the reality of things did not amuse him…

Though he hardly knew her at all, the prospect of teasing the poor young woman was far too tempting to resist.

Missing me already, pet?

The soft whoosh of the incoming text mere seconds after his own had caused a soft chuckle to echo in the otherwise silent kitchen of Crowley's flat, his posture shifting just a bit where he leaned against the countertop while amber eyes remained glued to the glowing of the screen. Although he obviously could not see the detective's expression, he had every reason to believe his response might just have made her smile as well.

Or at least, he hoped it had, since the nature of her reply seemed to indicate as much, whether that assumption might mean he was taking too much for granted, or not.

I never said that.

It was implied.

Oh really?

Really. When did you want to meet?

In the brief pause between his inquiry, and the ensuing reply from the young woman who had initiated the conversation, Anthony placed his phone on top of the counter so that he could actually obtain the glass of water he had ventured into the kitchen for in the first place, his gaze returning to the momentarily dormant device every so often until the screen lit up once more. For a moment or two, he considered switching the device to silent, in order to avoid waking the blonde woman still sleeping on the sofa in the den. But before he had the chance to do just that, Crowley found himself distracted by the nature of the reply flashing across the phone screen, one brow lifting as he read, and pondered over what to type in return.

Free all weekend. Up to you.

"S' awfully open-ended, love—"

How's Sunday at three o'clock sound?

Fine by me. Any preference as to where?

Unable to resist the sudden urge to persist in giving the unsuspecting young woman a hard time, Crowley only spent a moment in thinking over his ensuing reply before he sent the text that he hoped would lend a sufficient air of intrigue to the proposed meeting, without putting the detective off of such a thing, entirely. Something about the prospect of teasing her, even just a little, was far too amusing to resist…

After all, she had been the one to start this entire charade, so it only seemed fair he should be the one to finish it by regaining the upper hand.

I'll text you when I find a good spot. Ciao, love.

With phone still in hand, Crowley managed a sip or two of the water he had grabbed while he allowed his attention to stray over the messages for a second time, the apparent distraction provided by such a thing evidently enough to render him incapable of hearing the approaching footsteps of the woman in the flat along with him. Before he could even attempt to stop her, she had come to his side, and swiped the phone he had been perusing from his grasp. And in spite of the grunt of protest he made in response, Crowley knew it would be highly unlikely that he would be able to retrieve the device until Freya had given it a cursory investigation, herself, one fair brow quirking as she read, before her eyes turned towards him, instead.

"Thought you said she wasn't going to be a problem."

"Since when is trading a few text messages a problem, love?"

"Oh, gee, Anthony, I don't know—maybe when those texts are pretty obviously flirtatious?" Freya surmised, snatching the phone away from her companion's questing hand, and managing a few steps out of his reach before going on, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Seems to me I'm only doing my job, Freya."

"I don't seem to recall you flirting with Shadwell—"

"The man isn't really my type," Crowley teased, noting the eye-roll brought about by his attempt at using Freya's earlier words against her, and yet choosing to press on regardless of the consequences such a thing might earn him as far as her retort was concerned, "Always thought he was more your sort."

"Can you just be serious for once?" Freya implored, the uncharacteristically pleading cast to her tone obviously causing her friend to frown, though she did her best to ignore it in favor of going on before she lost her nerve entirely, and allowed Crowley to get out of this without voicing her concern, "You need to think about what it is you're doing, here."

"Who says I'm not already?"

"Cut the crap, Anthony, I know you. I know what you're like when a pretty woman is involved."

"If I didn't know any better, I might take that as an insult."

"Take it however you like. It's still the truth, either way."

"Glad one of us is so sure of my motives, then," Anthony quipped, resigned to the prospect of Freya holding permanent custody of his phone, at least for the time-being, and placing his now empty glass back on the countertop beside the sink before opting for moving back out into the den, with Freya close at his heels, "My offer still stands, you know. You're welcome to meet her yourself, if it'll put your mind at ease."

"And I told you I wasn't interested. What I am interested in is making sure my best friend doesn't wind up in jail, or worse, because he didn't know when to leave well enough alone."

"Did you miss the part where I told you this one wasn't like that?"

"She's a cop."

"A damned good one, too, from the looks of it."

"That's precisely my point," Freya pressed, watching Crowley carefully as he returned to his former position sprawled upon the cushions of his sofa, and folded her arms across her chest as she allowed him a momentary reprieve before going on, "Even if you aren't foolish enough to get involved with her, she could still find some reason to arrest you."

"Involved, Freya?"

"And once again, he misses the point."

"S'my job to miss the point, love. How else would I earn my title as your favorite pain in the arse, hmm?" Crowley inquired, noting the lack of amusement that was so apparent in his companion's expression, and yet finding himself completely incapable of the short laugh that escaped his lips, regardless, "Come on, Freya, lighten up a little. Everything's going to be fine."

"You don't know that."

"And you don't know that it will go pear-shaped, now do you? Not for sure."

"Can you blame me for wanting to try and protect you as best I can?" Freya demanded, moving from her position standing before the sofa, and leaning down to shove Crowley's legs out of the way so that she could take a seat beside him, in the same motion, "In case you didn't realize, arsehole, you're all I have left."

"Wow. Tell me how you really feel."

"Unbelievable. You are absolutely—unbelievable," The blonde groused, finally relinquishing her friend's phone via the act of chucking it against his chest, and priding herself in the soft grunt he made as it momentarily knocked the wind from his lungs as a result, "I wonder why the hell I put up with you sometimes, you know that?"

"Must be because I'm so scandalously adorable."

"Keep telling yourself that."

"If it's all the same to you, I think I will," Crowley remarked, a smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth as he shifted to replace his legs where they had been before Freya had sat down, and lifting a brow as she let out a low groan of protest when she realized he intended to use her lap as a footrest, "Always helps to keep a positive outlook, and all that."

"I think they have a new term for that, now."

"Oh? What's that?"

"Denial."

"Ha-ha. Very funny."

"I thought so," Freya replied, shifting so that she was able to lean back against the cushions at her back, even in spite of the fact that Crowley's legs were still very much in residence upon her thighs, "I take it you're not going to move these ridiculously long monstrosities any time soon?"

"Nope. Wasn't planning on it."

"Do you think you could at least manage to reach the remote and turn on the telly, then? I don't intend to spend the remainder of the day staring at your ugly socks as my only source of amusement, you know."

"Easy on the criticisms, love. My socks might get the wrong idea," Crowley joked, returning the slap Freya directed towards his knee by giving her a light nudge with his heel to her thigh, before leaning over onto his side to reach for the remote resting upon the coffee table, and flopping onto his back not long after that task had been accomplished. For a moment or two, he honestly debated on simply choosing a program to watch on his own, whether or not Freya ended up approving of that choice in the end. But some sort of instinct seemed to suggest he owed her this one small thing, as recompense for putting up with his apparently faulty judgment, at least insofar as her opinion was concerned, a slightly curious expression taking over his features as he cocked his head to the side, and regarded her for one final beat of silence before speaking once again.

"Anything in particular tickling your fancy, love?"

"As long as it's not some corny reality show, I'm all set."

If there was one thing Freya Dearborn hated more than just about anything else, it was being forced to watch drama brought about by those who she would label frivolous women griping about choosing a man as though it were the toughest decision anyone would ever make.

…

The following morning, Fiona woke alone in bed, her body apparently having splayed itself across the mattress in Gabriel's absence without any modicum of conscious thought. For a moment or two, she simply basked in the solitude, despite knowing that it was not too likely to be for very long at all, a satisfied hum escaping as she stretched, and rolled over onto her side. Some small part of her hated this feeling—this relief she felt at having the house to herself, so that she could start her day and attempt to ingest some caffeine before any sort of interaction with her fiancé became a requirement. But a still larger part was more than a little giddy at the idea of being able to take a shower without any sort of interference at all, a slow smile spreading across her lips as she threw the covers back and swung her legs over the edge of the bed to plant her feet upon the plush carpeting beneath them without a second thought.

Padding over towards the door leading to the master bathroom, the young woman set about the task of preparing for a bath, soft humming seeming to escape without much thought at all as she readied herself for the day ahead. It was not often that she had a chance like this to simply do things on her own time-table, without the pressure of work, or Gabriel's needs getting in the way. And even inasmuch as she loved her job, Fiona would have been a fool to pretend she was not abundantly grateful for the prospect of at least a partial day off, even the knowledge that if Newt found anything that linked the two victims to one another, she would likely have to go in to see that link for herself not proving to be enough to sour her apparently light-hearted mood.

Just as she was prepared to remove her pajamas and step into the warmth of the jacuzzi, however, Fiona was distracted by the soft ringing of her cell phone coming from its place on the table near her side of the bed, a resigned sigh escaping as she shook her head in slight amusement, and turned on a heel to head towards the sound not that long thereafter. Unbidden, her cheeks had started to warm, the thought of exactly what she might do if the person attempting to contacting her was Shadwell's informant causing her to chew idly at her lower lip before she even realized she was doing so…

"You are being absolutely ridiculous," She chastised, shaking herself out of her temporary embarrassment as soon as she realized the name scrolling across the screen was that of her former partner, and not the man she had arranged to meet the following day, at all. And so, before she could fully come to terms with the warmth on the skin of her cheeks, Fiona forced herself to answer the incoming call, instead, all the while praying that Jimmy did not catch on to the slight wavering in her tone as she greeted him as succinctly as she could.

"Jimmy—what's up?"

"Good morning to you, too," The familiar voice quipped, a laugh echoing over the line before Jimmy was, for all intents and purposes, back to business once again, "Thought you were going to text me about when we should meet."

"I—I was," Fiona assured, one hand lifting to drag absently through sleep-tousled hair as she moved to perch upon the edge of the bed, and peered at the now-chipped nail polish on her toes for a moment, before going on, "I kind of thought maybe I should take a shower first, though, before all that."

"Oh—sorry. Did I—did I wake you?"

"Not at all. You just sort of stepped in the way of a bubble bath, that's all."

"Ah, the life of the rich and famous," Jimmy teased, aware of the scoff of exasperation that Fiona gave in response to the joke, and yet choosing to rib her just a bit more, regardless of how much he might know she did not want to be on the receiving end of such a thing at all, "How are things over there in the ivory tower, princess?"

"Shut up."

"Not so good, then. No wonder you're itching to get out of the house on your day off, only to spend it with me—"

"You know, there was a time I loved spending time with you," Fiona retorted, amusement tempering any and all potential for hostility in the remark as a smile toyed with both corners of her mouth, "Of course, that was before you started making fun of me for my house, of all things."

"You're really going to run with this, aren't you?"

"Only for as long as you'll let me."

"Would you be at all willing to hold off on that, in favor of actually telling me where you want to go?" Jimmy inquired, something in the eagerness he appeared to feel for getting her to come clean about exactly why she seemed to desire such a meeting in the first place causing apprehension to prickle over Fiona's skin, despite the fact that she knew she had to go through with it, if she wanted him to remain safe. Try though she might to convince herself that she was simply imagining things—that everything that had transpired in her current case thus far was simply coincidence, and nothing more. But regardless of how much she may have wanted to believe that to be true, Fiona knew, somehow that it could never be that simple. Not really.

Something was off, here, and if she was going to throw caution to the wind and attempt to find out exactly what that something was, then she owed it to her friend and former partner to be as forthcoming as she could, beforehand.

"What about—what about that sandwich place on the corner near Zee's shop?" She suggested, coming to the conclusion rather suddenly that it might behoove them to be close to somewhere safe to adjourn to, on the off chance their meeting were interrupted, even in spite of the fact that she was loathe to bring her own troubles to Aziraphale's doorstep quite so quickly before she was even fully aware of what she was up against, herself. She would never be able to forgive herself if she did inadvertently land her family in hot water because of her own inability to let sleeping dogs lie. But just as she had come to that conclusion, she was also every bit as much aware of the fact that she had to get to the bottom of this case, before it cost them any more lives than it already had…

Something that only seemed to solidify her resolve as she realized Jimmy had already started to reply in the affirmative to her request, his tone still light and carefree, as though he truly thought this was nothing more than a simple afternoon out between two old friends.

"Sounds good to me. You buying?"

"Just so long as you don't go for the meatball supreme again. I'm not too keen on taking care of you in the aftermath of that particular digestive misfortune a second time."

"Duly noted. Want me to pick you up? Say, around noon?"

"Or I could just meet you there," Fiona managed, a frown taking over her features for a moment as she contemplated the prospect of Jimmy's arrival to take her out to lunch, should Gabriel have already returned from wherever he had gone, before then. Her fiancé had made no secret about his distaste for her former partner, even though he seemed equally as displeased by the one she currently possessed. But before she could come up with any way of turning Jimmy's offer down without provoking any sort of suspicion on his part in return, Fiona found the gesture rendered moot, the easy confidence in her friend's words doing just enough to assuage her misgivings as he overrode her offer with an almost predictable response of his own.

"I don't think so. I've seen how you drive on a full stomach."

"Hey! Don't turn this into a sexist diatribe on female driving, mister—"

"I'm not! Just telling the truth," Jimmy assured, laughing openly at the heavy sigh Fiona gave in response to his quip, and moving to close the conversation so that the two of them could go about the remainder of their morning as best they could, "See you at noon, then. Your place."

"And I'll be waiting for you to rescue me from said ivory tower on your noble steed," Fiona jested, smiling in spite of herself at the return of their trademark ridiculous humor, despite the fact that it had been quite a while since the two of them had occupied the same police cruiser together to make their jokes in person, "See you soon."

"Yeah, Fi. See you soon."

Disconnecting the call, and tossing her phone back on the bedside table, Fiona rose to stand, and padded back into the bathroom in order to resume the task of preparing her bath, this time managing to fully disrobe even in light of the realization that the soft thud she heard coming from downstairs indicated Gabriel had returned, and she no longer had the house to herself. Regardless of how she may feel about such a thing, however, she forced herself to continue as she had been until she was sinking beneath the water's surface, and savoring the sudden warmth that seeped into her muscles as a result…

Whether Gabriel chose to intrude on her morning routine or not, Fiona was determined to behave as though the prospect did not matter to her at all, her eyes slipping closed as she resurfaced and leaned back against the marble of the jacuzzi, and did as best she could to pretend that she had been there, all along.

If she were to have any hope of broaching the topic of Jimmy's arrival with her fiancé without it turning ugly, she knew very well that she would have to approach the entire affair with caution, and a sizeable amount of submission, as well.

…

Hello again, my loves! And welcome to a brand new chapter in Fiona's tale (well…one of her many tales, lol). I'm a bit hesitant to admit that it appears to be yet another filler, because I wanted to show a bit more Crowley *before* they meet up again, and then the second segment with Jimmy sort of wrote itself after the fact. But I promise, I will be picking up on the action again very, very soon! It is certainly not my intent to bore you with less than heart-pounding chapters, so hopefully you can all find it within your hearts to bear with me until the drama begins again? There is definitely so much more in store, and the fun is only just getting started (*rubs hands together with a maniacal grin*).

As always, my heartfelt thanks go out 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 reviewer ChiTown4ever for leaving such lovely encouragement last time around! I appreciate the support, and the patience with all of my terribly demanding muses more than all of you know, and I can only hope you enjoy this chapter every bit as much as you seem to have enjoyed the ones preceding it!

Until next time, my darlings…

MOMM