They Say A Criminal Always Returns to the Scene of a Crime

'We need more of these now - have a vision.'

'I can't just perform on demand.'

'We need the clients. Have a vision.'

'That money's corrupted you.'

'If I hit you in the head, will you have a vision?'

'Get away from you're insane!' He nudged her away from himself, laughing.

'Am not!' She grabbed hold of his arm and linked her's through. He glanced down, saw where she was holding onto him but didn't say anything. 'Now have a vision,' she told him.

'Ah - it just doesn't work that way, I'm afraid, princess.'

'Well it should,' she pouted playfully, 'your visions are lame.'

'So you've told me before,' - but he noticed she still hadn't let go of his arm. And she hadn't stopped smiling, and a lot of her smiles were aimed directly at him. This money had made her happy - and when she was happy, it seemed, she spread the joy around. If one found joy in physical contact with and massive smiles from Cordelia - which Doyle did. Her being happy made him very happy, he didn't remember the last time he had felt this good, the last time everything had seemed this rosy.

And all it had taken was one little cheque from one little client. Cordy was right, they did need more of these - and fast. He wished he could get visions at will. If it meant more money and more smiles and more lingering contact, then he would withstand all the agonising vision pain the higher powers could throw at him.

They went to the bank on 8th to pay the cheque in, and Doyle deliberately didn't think about the time he had helped rob it. That was an old life, and old version of himself - one nobody here would recognise, one he didn't want to recognise any more. He was a new man now, with a job and friends and hope - and legally earned money that he was depositing into the company account. But he still held his breath when they stepped up to the cashier - afraid she would look into his eyes and recognise them as ones she had seen before beneath a ski mask.

But he was being ridiculous. That was 18 months ago - longer, even - he didn't remember what the cashier had looked like that day and it was insane to think that, even if by some terrible coincidence this was the same woman, she would have any kind of clear memory of what the men behind the masks looked like. She hadn't seen his face, she wouldn't remember his eyes, it probably wasn't even her...

He was still relieved to leave the bank though. And it must have shown because Cordelia seemed to have noticed something was up. 'You OK?' she asked, her brow wrinkled as she looked at him.

'Uh - yeah - fine.'

'You went very quiet in there.'

'Um…' God, if he didn't want Cordy knowing about his demon half, then he definitely didn't want her ever finding out about his bank robbing days. 'I was just … thinkin' what I'd do with that money.'

'Right! I'm thinking celebratory mocha. You in?' She smiled at him, a giant, thousand kilowatt beam - and all thoughts of the back robbery and his old life just flew out of his head, leaving him in the moment, in the sunshine, with Cordelia.

He grinned back at her, 'count me in.'

'Just don't start quoting Angela's Ashes, OK?'

'I won't - jeez - a man gets drunk one time…'

'More than one time.'

'Fine - a man gets drunk … most nights and he can never live it down.'

'Damn skippy,' and she linked her arm with his once more and steered them both into the Starbucks.