I know that it has been forever and I apologize. I hope that you enjoy

Amy's head swam as she tried to wrap her mind around the revelation. "Me?", she said in an incredulous whisper? "Why? I'm a nobody." Pendergast opened his mouth to protest the characterization, but quickly shut it. "Who would be bothered with this?", she continued.

"You have been an agent for quite a while," Pendergast said, holding a forkful of salad while he finished the thought. "Could there have been anybody who," he paused, "….who you may have inconvenienced?", he asked.

Amy considered. "As far as I know, most of them are still in jail," she stopped and considered, "...or dead. said. "And besides who knows that I am here?"

"And yet," Pendergast said, "somebody has definitely targeted you...In fact," he looked into Amy's green eyes, "I think there has been a concerted effort to...," again the pause as he chose words carefully, "….to injure you."

Amy rewarded Pendergast with an unladylike snort. "Injure," she said and Pendergast arched an eyebrow at her.

"In retrospect, perhaps the goal was to do more than injure you," Pendergast said, his tone darkening. "It was your sheer luck that you were not killed by either of the cars." He stifled an involuntary shudder when he thought about how close she had come to death and how close he had come to losing her.

Amy thought back to the last time she was at Antoine's. Without the tolerance to poisons that Pendergast had built up, she would have been dead that same night. If it had not been for Pendergast's intervention, either one of the cars could have easily killed her. She shuddered; she was used to working with victims, not being one.

Her grim musings were interrupted when she felt a hand land gently on top of her own hand. She looked up. Pendergast had covered her hand with his much larger one. "Ameline," he said gently, but emphatically, "we will find who is trying to hurt you. You have my word." Briefly his hand tightened on hers, "And I swear to you, I will be right here...with you...until this is resolved and you are safe."

Amy looked into Pendergast's eyes, not sure of what she saw or what she wanted to see in them. "Thank you," she said quietly. One more moment and she nodded her head, "Alright, then," she said, every inch the FBI profiler again. "What do we know?"

Pendergast sat back in the comfortable chair and steepled his fingers. "We know that a member of Sigma Theta Omega who may or may not have been driving the car that almost hit you may or may not work here." He continued. "The second car driven by a homeless man who may or may not have stolen it from Mr. Dubois of the Shenandoah Dubois and President of said Sigma Theta Omega Fraternity, also tried to kill you. And...or perhaps this should have been first, somebody tried to poison you." Pendergast signaled to the waiter and ordered two bourbons. Silence prevailed between the two agents until the waiter placed the drinks on the table and left.

Amy reached for her drink, took a sip and waited for the amber liquid fire to make its way into her belly. She felt it start melting the lump of ice that she had felt forming in the pit of her stomach. "The first thing that most profilers will tell you is that poison is usually a woman's weapon." She smiled faintly at Pendergast's raised eyebrow and then became serious again, "They will tell you that because it is statistically true." She took a breath and another sip. "We should probably assume that whoever it is that whoever is," she hesitated, "...whoever is doing this," she shrugged, "is most likely a woman."

She saw Pendergast nod and again flashed the briefest of smiles. "I know that you do not believe in or agree with profiling." Pendergast had the grace to look a little uncomfortable. And changed the subject.

"What about the Theta's?" He asked.

Amy shrugged again and picked at her salad as she mulled her answer. I've only met Dubois once and," she wrinkled her nose wryly, "I was not impressed. He is a jack ass at best and an abusive misogynist at worst. What I don't know is if he is smart enough to plan something like this."

Pendergast nodded. "And up until a few days ago, he did not know you at all, so he would have no motive to poison you...or, more likely to order the other member to do so."

Amy nodded. "So, what now?

"Now, I think it is time to meet the kitchen staff," Pendergast said as he rose and stepped over to pull the chair out for Amy.

Antoine's staff was used to the eccentricities of the wealthy patrons who frequented. However, even they were somewhat taken aback by having Pendergast and Amy brazenly enter the kitchen and proceed to greet and chat with every bus boy, sous chef and dishwasher. Pendergast and Amy had almost completed their tour of the kitchen. Their eyes met and Pendergast shook his head very slightly: there was nobody in the kitchen who looked like the young man he had seen.

"Might I be of assistance," the voice was genteel, but firm and both agents looked toward to voice. Standing behind them, dressed in a white jacket and black and white pants, the head chef of Antoine's stood with her arms crossed.

Without missing a beat, Pendergast walked over to the woman. "Chef Parker," he said. "Your food was magnificent as usual." Amy saw Parker offer a small nod of acknowledgement. "But we do need your help," Pendergast continued. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his FBI badge to show to the woman. Her brows knit together, but she remained calmly standing. "We believe that one of your bus boys may have witnessed an accident involving Agent Devereaux," he said motioning over to Amy. "I do not see him."

Parker quickly looked around the kitchen, then went back to her office to check the job log. "My apologies Agent...," she stretched the word until Pendergast supplied his name. "Agent Pendergast. I believe the young man you are looking for is Willis Marchant. He was supposed to be here by now." She snorted in frustration. "He is a decent bus boy, when he makes it to work and is sober...Most likely he is sleeping off a fraternity party."

Pendergast did not miss a beat. "Would you happen to know to which fraternity Mr. Marchant belongs?"

Parker thought for a moment. "Sure do. They had their Winter Formal dinner here. Sigma Theta Omega over at Tulane."

"Thank you, Chef Parker." Pendergast inclined his head slightly. "Agent Devereaux...?," he looked expectantly at Amy.

The agents' approach to the fraternity house this time was very different. Both were visibly displaying their badges and Amy's weapon was holstered, quite obviously, at her hip. There was nothing coy about the knock on the door. "FBI," Pendergast announced.

Within a minute, a sleepy-eyed pledge opened the door.

"We need to see Willis Marchant immediately," Amy announced walking into the hallway without waiting for an invitation. "If you can just tell us what room he is in, we can get there ourselves." She looked at the young man, who could not have been more than 18 and took pity. "Its OK," she said. "You can just point."

"Agent," Amy stiffened slightly at the familiar voice. "What can I help you with," Grayson Dubois was standing at the bottom of the stairs.

"Mr. Dubois. We are here in an official capacity as part of an investigation of alleged criminal activity. We need to speak to Mr. Willis Marhant immediately as he could be a witness." Dubois looked...or perhaps, she thought, leered...at her again and finally nodded.

"Willy is asleep. It was a hell of a party last night. He's in room 108. Up the stairs and 4th door to your left."

Amy nodded and she and Pendergast quickly ascended the stairs. The quickly found room 108 and knocked. "FBI, Mr. Marchant," Amy said. "We would like to talk to you. Please open the door." Several more attempts were met with the same silence. Amy looked over at Pendergast who gave her a quick nod. "Mr. Willis Marchant," Amy called out with even more authority, "this is the FBI. If you do not open the door immediately, we will be forced to break it down." Amy looked around and noticed many doors open and its occupants leaning out to look. She motioned them all to return to their rooms and the glare from Pendergast demonstrated that they were serious.

Once all the neighboring doors were closed, Amy looked at Pendergast. He reached into his shoulder holster and took out his Les Baer. She pulled out her Glock. "One...two...three," Pendergast mouthed the words. On "three", Amy kicked open the door and lunged in with Pendergast coming in behind her gun held high.

Both agents froze when they saw the body in the middle of the floor.

Perhaps things are coming to a head for Amy and Pendergast...or perhaps not. But things will definitely start speeding up. Please read and review and let me know what you think.