It Could Be Worse 2nd Season

by Sulia Serafine

The hits keep on coming and all your favorites are back again! set in a futuristic universe Complete

5. A Date and A Convict

It Could Be Worse (2nd Season)

Episode 5: A Date and A Convict

By Sulia Serafine

[A Protector of the Small fanfic set in an alternate universe; all credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me. Any other copyrighted things that don't belong to me in here in fact belong to other very businesslike people. Could you believe that? I guess that's why I'm broke.

Oh, one more thing: BAD LANGUAGE (I. E. cursing, swearing…). You have been warned!

E-mail me at silverwlng@aol.com okay?

Author: First of all, let me tell you that I MISSED THIS SO MUCH!!! *sniff* Heaven forbid I should ever disappear for FOUR months straight ever again…]

"He called you already? How was his trip back?" Keladry asked. She balanced the phone on one shoulder while washing her dishes with both her hands. The position was very uncomfortable for her neck, but she silently promised herself to switch shoulders in a few minutes. It was a beautiful morning in Tusaine, and she was having a wonderful beginning to a new day.

Faleron was getting used to staring at a blank communications screen. He made it a point though, to buy new COM screens for his friends on their birthdays. On his side of town, he was casually eating pancakes that he'd burnt. "It was fine. But he tells me that he's made plans to graduate early and enter the new Academy at Olorun."

"No kidding," Cleon yawned. It just so happened that they were using a three-way connection. He was also on the phone, and not a COM screen.

"He seemed pretty excited about it. With ambition like his, I think he'll be trying to break your records, Kel." Faleron stirred his coffee and blew on it gently.

She started rinsing the glasses, turning off the water so she could hear her friends. "I'd like to see him try. My record's pretty hard to beat."

"You won't believe this," Faleron chuckled. "He said he's doing it because of you."

Cleon laughed raucously. "Aww... Kel, I think Merric has a crush on you! That is so adorable I think I'm going to," here he stopped to laugh uncontrollably. When he calmed down, he wiped a tear from his eye. "Sorry. But wow, Kel, if you'd ever had a fan club before, I think you just found your new club president!"

She blushed furiously, mad that she blushed, and then mad at Cleon for suggesting it. "I never had a fan club. Just for staying at the Academy the least amount of time? Are you kidding me?" She set the glasses in their cabinet. She slammed it shut. "By Glory, I was in the Advisor Trebond's fan club!"

"President?" the two men asked simultaneously.

"No, I was not the president of the club," she replied dryly. They think I was that obsessed?

It was Faleron's turn to crack a joke. "It always seemed like you were obsessed with becoming like her."

She groaned inwardly, since groaning aloud was not one of her habits. "Well things have changed now. I just want to be me, and that's it."

"Sure. Whatever."

They continued talking for nearly twenty more minutes. Then, Faleron left for work. Cleon suddenly got the inspiration to call up Kalasin in Tortall and to bother her (after a long amount of pestering, Roald had caved in and given him her number). Keladry was actually taking a day off to furnish her apartment with a better sofa than the one already provided. The moving boxes were now gone. It wasn't much better than her dorm room at Headquarters, but it was a start.

She'd spent most of her free time aside from hanging out with the Riders and the station making her new home feel comfortable. It was very different from living in a standard issue dorm room. She had to get her own dishes and regularly go grocery shopping. There was no public cafeteria and no training center. If she wished to work out, she had to do that in a gym two blocks away or had to settle for aerobics in her apartment instead.

She hung the wash towel on its hook in the kitchen and started for her bedroom. She wondered if Lalasa was free to go furniture shopping. The Carthakian woman was a good bargain hunter, quality not compromised. Keladry scratched the idea when she realized that if Faleron was working, then Lalasa probably was, too. It would be wrong for Lalasa to ask for a day off, too, since Ms. Sarrasri constantly let her three most trusted employees off to do things with Kel and the others.

Furniture shopping would have to be a one-woman job, then. Keladry did things on her own all the time. Furniture shopping would have to become one of those things. After all, she was an independent person. For the longest time, the only friends she'd ever had were Neal and Owen. And even then, there were many things she didn't do with them. Like furniture shopping. Or anything that was outside of HQ.

"I'm getting too fixated on this. How weird is that?" she murmured to herself.

Before reaching her closet, a sudden sound explosion came from above. Keladry's hands immediately went over her ears. Little bits of ceiling plaster rained down on her head. She coughed away the dust and looked up, squinting her eyes just in case any plaster bits might fall in them.

The echo of the explosion died down. It still made her ears ring. Whoever was closer must have been deaf by now. Even though it wouldn't help, she rubbed her ears and shook her head vigorously.

"What happened?" she wondered aloud. Who lives above me?

She went down a quick mental list of the fourth floor's residents. It wasn't strong and silent Prosper. He lived next door to Fianola and she lived at the end of the hall. It wasn't Lerant, or Qasim. Qasim was at work. It wasn't Dom, whose windows were now fixed. Dom was probably at work already, just like Qasim. Seaver and his pets? No. It wasn't him.

"YUKI!" a male voice shouted. It sounded like Lerant yelling at the top of his lungs and coughing.

Keladry darted over to her window and slid it open. She leaned out and twisted around to look up. The windows to Yuki's apartment above hers were open, and smoke was blowing out. Afraid for her friend's safety, she ran out of her apartment and to the elevator at break-neck speed.

Stefan was already in the elevator when it reached her floor. He looked pissed. Steam was ready to come out of his ears. She was sure that an apple couldn't become redder than his face.

"If it be what I think t'is, then I am giving that girl such a big fat fine, it'll make 'er head spin!"

She felt a wave of sympathy for her Eastern Yamani friend, though she had to admit that she thought it was mostly likely Yuki, as well. It wasn't that wise to try out explosives or any kind inside the building. Especially when it was Stefan's building. But according to the rest of the Riders, Yuki was literally obsessed.

When they arrived on the Riders' floor, smoke filled the halls, originating from Yuki's room. Prosper and Seaver were holding portable fans in their arms, trying to blow the smoke down one end of the hall and out the window. Seaver almost tripped over the cord to his fan, but caught himself. Both men had bandannas tied over the lower halves of their faces.

Neal was in the background somewhere, opening more windows. He wore a pair of sweatpants and a white T-shirt with holes in the sleeves. He must have toppled right out of bed when he'd heard the explosion. In one hand he held a cordless phone that he yelled into, giving details about the situation. She couldn't hear him that well anyway, what with her ears ringing like they were. It was probably the reason he yelled.

Keladry lifted the front of her shirt over her nose and mouth. Then the female officer ran toward the open door of Yuki's apartment. Before she could enter, Lerant burst out. He was dragging Yuki out with him by the arm. They fell to the floor, coughing and struggling to get breathable air.

"What happened?" she said loudly. Her ears were still feeling weird. If hers were, then Yuki and Lerant must have been deaf. She hauled them up and helped lean them against the wall. In the meantime, Stefan broke into a glass case on the hallway wall and took out the fire extinguisher. The sound of glass breaking hardly registered in her mind. Her ears were now beyond feeling weird. The middle-aged landlord ran inside Yuki's apartment, ready to extinguish any fires in her kitchen.

A few more residents of the first floor came up the elevators-- Buri's people, mostly-- and two of Flyndon's best men who lived on the second floor. Cleon rushed up as well, eyes wide and worried for the safety of his friends. They helped to fan the smoke away and assisted Stefan in purging the kitchen of smoke. The source of smoke was dealt with, the extinguisher's foam all over the floor.

Later, everyone was standing or sitting in the hall. A full morning of clearing the air had exhausted everyone, especially the Riders. More fans had been set up, and the air conditioning was on full blast. Stefan was raging on and on about how much trouble had been caused, and just how much the damages were. For once, Yuki felt just as helpless and fragile as she looked. Lerant tried to hug her with one arm around her shoulders, but she shrugged it off.

"I didn't mean for it to go off. I was just moving it, then it slipped," she whispered, staring hard at the floor. Her sadness was suddenly replaced by a strange determination. "Now I know how powerful it was! No longer will I be limited to explosives like a regular dem-expert. I can make smoke bombs, too! And maybe, just maybe, I can make tear gas." She tapped her chin. "Of course, I'd have to get some help from maybe… Seaver. He's good with science. Well, biological science, but…"

Lerant groaned. "Yuki!"

She blinked innocently at him. "What?"

Keladry intercepted Stefan before he could get closer to the Rider. "Uh, this was really all an accident. Why don't we just go down stairs and write the stupid accident reports, then take some time off to cool down…"

The grouchy old man snorted. "Riders' Own always causing me trouble… This is just like those animals that boy be keepin', or that Dom idiot who was messing with the circuit box… or the accident in the garage with that… that teenage girl!"

"Good thing Fia's not here," Seaver muttered. "She's too proud of her driving."

Keladry sat down on the carpeted hallway floor, trying to catch her breath. What a morning…

"What is so wrong with experimenting with new things? Change is good!" Yuki argued with Lerant. The two continued bickering, even with the others' shouts for them to shut up. Keladry smiled inwardly. Even with all this trouble hanging over their heads, the Riders endured— very well, she might add.

Lerant and Yuki weren't even pretending to be worried about the disaster that had just occurred. It sounded more like an awry experiment when one heard the words coming from their mouths. Cleon went back to his apartment, probably to carry on his prank phone calls to Kalasin back in Tortall. Prosper and Seaver were now making the best of things and finishing breakfast out in the hall—which consisted of hardboiled eggs, orange slices, and strangely enough…smoked sausage.

"Hey, Kel, have you ever had such a 'rude awakening'?" Neal asked, a hint of a smile on his face. He rubbed his right ear, as if he was still having problems hearing. The phone was tucked into the waistband of his sweatpants.

"No. But then again, I don't sleep in like you do."

He yawned. "Yeah. I know."

She was going to talk more to him, but her pager started vibrating. Neal held up his hand and waved her away in an understanding gesture. He went off to join Prosper and Seaver for breakfast. Keladry lifted her arm, glancing at the wrist-worn mechanism. It was Chief Flyndon. She stood up, grumbling to herself how this couldn't have come at a worse time. She was tired now, and her 'wonderful beginning to a new day' was promptly fading.

How could I have work today? It's my day off! She thought furiously. I'm supposed to be furniture shopping. I want to shop for furniture! At the end of the hall right before the elevator, she stopped—shocked at her own thoughts. She actually wanted to shop for furniture…like a normal person, who didn't have to worry about the dangers in her job and the strangeness of her neighbors.

"Are you okay?" someone asked. The man was tall with thick black hair. He was most likely one of Flyndon's officers, roomed on the second floor. He looked like the type to be on the cover of a romance novel with his shirt carelessly unbuttoned. Strong chin, smothering eyes, and perfect straight nose.

Keladry ignored the urge to ask if his name was Pierre or some other exotic name of the sort. She shook her head quickly, a bit too quickly. Her thoughts were embarrassing, as well as disrespectful to him. After all, men like that weren't the stereotypical romance novel cover models. "Er, no. I'm fine. Just tired. Have to see Whiteford."

Can't even form coherent sentences? I must be close to falling over and snoring. She rubbed at her eyes and tried to suppress a yawn. It came anyway, and she covered her mouth like she always did. Courtesy and etiquette after all…

"Oh." The man most likely named Pierre or Jean Luke walked away, a definite model-like swagger to his stride. The thought crossed her mind that men like that shouldn't be in law enforcement. They were too unreal for the likes of her, too much the movie star only acting as a cop. She disliked those types of people. It was a little biased, but Keladry couldn't help thinking it. She frowned and wondered what in the world had brought on that bout of cynical thoughts on the dark dashing type she'd just encountered.

The elevator door in front of her opened. Joren peered out, looking past her and at the rest of the people still gathered in the halls with the portable fans. He was not in uniform, but simply a pair of faded and worn blue jeans and wearing a black T-shirt. One of those days, Kel had it in her to find out if he owned something else besides the black T-shirt and jeans—maybe a nice blue tie if she was lucky.

Joren couldn't guess what was on her mind and simply asked, "Who did it?"

She didn't feel like seeing her partner lecture Yuki. If Stefan wasn't able to make Yuki feel bad, then Joren would probably be the one to do it. She pushed past him and into the elevator. "It's done with. It's none of your concern." She glared at him. "So where were you?" It's not as if he did anything to help.

He stepped back into the elevator and pressed the doors-closed button. The metal doors slid closed and the elevator began its descent to the next floor. It was very brief. Before she knew it, the elevator stopped, creating that flip-flop in her stomach when it did stop. She took less than a second to adjust and stepped out onto her floor again. Joren followed.

"Well?" she asked, walking ahead of him so she didn't have to look at him.

"I was out early."

She stopped and turned. "Out where?"

He shot her down. "It's done with. It's none of your concern."

And he entered his room, the door sliding shut after him. Keladry wouldn't expect any better. He was always going to be like that. She honestly didn't know what possessed her to ask him where he'd been when she knew he wasn't going to give a straight answer. It was just like her thoughts about that man upstairs, the possible-Pierre.

You need a day off. She told herself. But at this rate, She glanced at her pager. I'm never going to get one…

~~

Lalasa Isran drummed her fingers on the desktop. Daine worked with people nearly everywhere. There was never a dull moment with her. Except this moment. This moment, Numair was visiting and Roald was driving them around the city while she was stuck back at the home office trying to tidy things up. Faleron had been here briefly, but then Daine had paged him to go downtown to her proper office and meet with some people there. That still left Lalasa by herself, doing menial maid-like tasks. It wasn't that Lalasa was complaining. She was actually very glad to do the work.

After all, she was paid and housed. She ate well. She got enough time off to spend with Roald and her friends. So the last part wasn't entirely true. She couldn't remember the last time she was hanging out with Kel or even Cleon and Faleron. Or Neal. It just didn't happen that way with everyone's new schedules.

Late at night, when she was still awake, Lalasa recalled the time she spent with her friends running away from Tortall and feigning allegiance with her father, Ozorne Tasikhe. She loved her father for giving her life. As for loving him for being him self, well… she couldn't do that. Not anymore. Though the times were perilous, it was also a happy time for her. Kel, Roald, her… all of them had become so close during that time. If they hadn't, Roger and Ozorne would have won.

They weren't running around the country and the Yamanis anymore. They were rooted to one spot to spend their lives. Although they lived closer than they had before meeting, in spirit, some people had drifted.

Kel gravitated toward the Riders or to her new superiors. Neal did the same, or else to complete strangers at the nightclubs he went to. She and Roald hadn't spent much time with them aside the dinner invitation from their DJPF friends. Only Faleron and Cleon remained as they were.

The two young men would always be best friends, though she would never figure out why.

She kicked the bottom of the desk angrily. It was a random action, which soon made her grab her foot and wince. That was all right. She was frustrated and becoming depressed. If she didn't do something soon to cease these melancholy feelings, then who knows what would happen?

"I'll go out to dinner in a nice restaurant with Roald tomorrow evening. That always cheers me up," she whispered to herself. The silence that followed irked her. She started humming a tune from the radio, determined not to hear the silence of an empty house and a nagging voice in her deep subconscious.

Roald was the solid, unchanging person in her life. He was the strong and silent type, except not as strong or silent as one may think. He had his moments of flowing conversation, poignant and deeply moving in some words, casual and elegant in others, usually with his personal friends. He was not a fighter like Cleon or Joren. He didn't have their strength.

He doesn't need to, she reasoned. Roald didn't need anything at all. He could live a static life and never get bored. Lalasa actually did. She'd lived an unstable life. Her father moved her from place to place, or else she had to do it herself. She knew she wanted something the opposite of her to keep her anchored to Earth… some one. And that person was Roald.

He may have been content with an unchanging life (as compared to the radically, perpetually moving life of a politician) but she didn't. And she would do her best to have some excitement every now and then.

He liked quiet spots with views. He didn't like crowded places unless the entertainment was really nice. She practically spent a good 50% of her life in nightclubs. If he didn't want to go there as much as her, he did not have to go. It was the little things that mattered to her. Holding hands, fingers laced… huddling together when the winds picked up at the beach…

Griffin's Nest was the perfect restaurant. Quiet, unobtrusive, very secluded, and a view of a manmade pond where the city's children floated their handcrafted boats—the best place to take him. She could not remember what type of food they served there, but it didn't matter. She and Roald would go there tomorrow and all her icky feelings would vanish.

~~

Keladry leant against the wall. She'd been waiting for the elevator to come down. Not many people were working that day. The station actually remained pretty calm. It was still early in the day. Not many criminals to be arrested in the morning, nor disasters that would plunge the city into chaos. She doubted the peace would last for long, but she would revel in the tranquility for as long as she could.

"You look like you need this more than I do."

She snapped out of her thoughts. The elevator doors were open and there was Dom, holding out a Styrofoam cup that probably contained black coffee. She took the hot drink from him. Her nostrils were filled with a pleasant earthy aroma, warming her insides without even sipping from the drink. The steam rose up in little disappearing wisps.

"Mmm… thanks," she told him.

Dom nodded. He had circles under his eyes, a clear indication of his lack of sleep. Usually when Kel saw him, he was very energetic and outgoing. Even late into the night, or early into the morning, Dom had a gift for being vibrant. She now wondered if coffee had anything to do with it.

"Are you sure you don't want this?" she asked, a little concerned for his lack of usual enthusiasm.

He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "Nah. I'm fine. I was on my way to the lounge anyway. Have you seen my God-brother anywhere?"

She thought back to earlier that morning. "Yeah. He's at home."

"He called me after Yuki's little experiment went up in smoke—literally," Dom chuckled.

Ah. That answers the question whom was Neal talking to…

"I had actually planned on getting Qasim and heading back home to see what's up with Yuki before Raoul does."

"Ah." It was a piece of information she could have cared less about knowing (for the mere fact that she had to see Flyndon ASAP and if she didn't hurry, her head was going to be served on a platter), but Dom was being polite. She glanced at her wrist again. The pager message was the same as she'd last checked. Trying to find an unoffending path out of the conversation, she shrugged. "I've got to go up. Whiteford's waiting."

"Gotcha." He knew what that was like. "See you later then."

She entered the elevator, waving to Dom as he left down a different hall to the lounge. She took a careful sip of the coffee. She did not have coffee on a regular basis. If she did, she usually preferred hers with cream, but if there was none to be had, that was fine. The warm beverage spread through her body, instantly waking her up from any past sluggishness. Who would have thought clearing the top floor of an apartment building of smoke would get so tiresome?

Upstairs, Chief Flyndon Whiteford anxiously waited outside his office.

For a time, Buri had kept him company. She knew what was going down. After all, she'd been the one to tell him. One of her people had seen it with his own eyes and reported it to Buri right away. She in turn told Flyndon. At first, she'd debated with herself on whether or not she should have her own people take care of it instead of making Flyn do the work. She could have. After all, she could phrase any case so it fit her jurisdiction.

But why should she deprive her good friend Flyn of such fun?

"Thanks a lot, Buri," he grumbled.

She sipped her café mocha latte. "You're welcome." When he didn't say any more, she filled the gap. "So, who are you giving the case?"

"Hey! You didn't want to work this one, so don't try to act interested. I know you're not." He folded his arms across his chest. "Don't you have something to do besides standing here?"

She shrugged. Obviously, his irritability was making him impossible to manage. She might as well let it go. If Raoul had been told what she had told Flyndon, Raoul probably would have snatched up the case in a heartbeat. Too bad he was nowhere to be found that morning. Flyndon would have to take care of this himself.

"Okay, okay. I'll go. Good luck," she called over her shoulder as she walked away. Flyndon glared daggers at her retreating form. He could still hear the click of her heels on the tile though he turned his gaze away and concentrated staring at his own toes.

Coincidentally, Keladry arrived on that floor the second Buri was completely out of range. She masked her resentment for being called on her day off. Sure, she knew that Flyndon had very few good officers since most went on the Immortals expedition. But still, why her?

"Mindelan!"

She cringed. Keladry saluted, not as briskly as she could have. "Sir."

His office doors opened. He gestured for her to go inside. She dragged herself through and then dumped herself unceremoniously on the chair before his desk. If Flyndon was appalled at her lack of manners in front of him, he didn't show it. He simply sat at his desk, turning the database screen around so she could see it as well.

"I very well know this is your day off. Not many people like to be interrupted on their day off, including me."

Oh, really? I couldn't tell. She thought to herself.

"Sir?"

He began typing rapidly on his keyboard. A few windows opened up on the screen, each listing random data that she skimmed over. Murder. Kidnapping. Extortion. She sat up taller now, her eyes opening a little wider. What in the world was this? It was the profile for one of the worst sorts of people.

A picture finally appeared. It was a mug shot of a man in his late thirties, Caucasian, with a nose like someone had once broken it and it had never healed right, and then heavy eyebrows that made his eyes look small and close together.

"This is Urfan Noll. A former associate of Ozorne Tasikhe before the latter double-crossed the former and set him up to get arrested by the DJPF down in Port Caynn. He escaped prison this week and left a threat in his cell to Ozorne."

Ozorne's dead, but he's still causing problems. That doesn't surprise me in the least.

"Since our dear Mr. Tasikhe is dead, Noll is most likely to take his revenge upon those who were close to him. He's been spotted not too far from Tusaine." He drummed his fingers on the desktop. "It has been brought to my attention by Qasim this morning that you and your fellow transferees from Tortall are all acquaintances with Ms. Lalasa Isran, the personal assistant of Councilwoman Daine Sarassri. Is this true?"

Keladry nodded. She had no idea they still kept tabs on one of her best friends even if Ozorne was dead. "It is, sir." She knew what was coming. It was so plain to see. "She is a friend of mine."

"That being the case, I believe she would feel more comfortable if I assigned you as well as Officers Kennan, Queenscove, and Stone to protect her. Normally, I would not do something like this. Emotions get in the way. They cloud an officer's priorities. But your record is exemplary, and knowing Stone… emotions won't be a problem." (Only someone specifically waiting for it would have seen Keladry's jaw muscles clench at the last sentence.) "If Noll attacks, you must apprehend him. If you're lucky, Raoul might hear of it and have his Riders help you out. I know the man would love to drag Noll to the Federation Courts and increase his fame as Marshall."

The last part was done in a slightly sarcastic tone, so she assumed that Flyndon didn't really hold any grudge against Raoul for that sort of thing. But she might. Though Raoul was a great man, she wanted credit for this, and she'd be damned before her new friends the Riders would help out.

"If I may say, Sir, Officer Queenscove is not that acquainted with Ms. Isran as the rest of us are, though he'd probably be better received by her than Officer Stone."

He shook his head. "It does not matter. If he does not want the case, he does not have to take it. Stone, Kennan, and you, however, must take it, mandatory."

Lucky Neal. Why did I just get him out of a tough assignment? Oh, I'll ask him to help anyway.

More information was given to her regarding Urfan Noll. He was a hardened, callous man with a frightening reputation. It was not half so frightening as those stories she'd heard at the Academy about the world's worst criminals. But the idea of him going after Lalasa chilled Keladry to the bone.

Keladry promised herself that nothing would happen to her friend. She'd worked hard her whole life so she would be able to protect people and right the wrongs of others. And she had done it well. First class and public recognition proved that. But sometimes, things got under her skin. Like the last time when she'd gotten her first assignment after vacation.

She'd just received this new freedom of having fun and doing what she wanted. What had worried her was the possibility of losing the nerve she'd had before that… The focus and concentration that promoted her to first class had been the same focus and concentration to push people away. Now that she was learning not to push others away, could she still have that focus?

The answer had to be yes. It had to be. Or else…

People like Urfan Noll were going to be getting under her skin for a while. There was no getting around that. Still, it was okay. Because she was going to send him back to prison where he belonged. Lalasa would be safe. She would never worry about sins of her father. Sins whose punishment she would have inherited.

The description of Noll was not half so bad as thought. He was a "hardened, callous man". Okay, she'd dealt with those before. Not many of them, but she did stop Roger, didn't she? The stories about him weren't half so bad as the stories told at the Academy to scare new cadets. She'd heard plenty of those. They did not affect her at all. She'd laughed at those stories and challenged them like she challenged many impossible things. To her, Noll was just a challenge

Half an hour later, she left with a folder tucked under her arm and a pounding headache.

~~

Faleron ate his sub sandwich, finally taking his lunch break after a long morning of meeting with people in place of his employer. Most of the men and women did not take as kindly to him as they would have Daine, but that was all right with him. He was able to answer questions and exchange the proper documents that Daine had told him to get from her home office.

Cleon had come by since he'd been done calling Kalasin. He also ate a sub sandwich, deftly picking out the tomatoes and putting them down on the napkin.

"You should eat those," Faleron commented.

"I don't like them with the pickles," he groused. He took a large bite, the food in his mouth making his cheeks puff out. The shorter man reached forward.

"Fine. I'll eat them. No sense in wasting food." He picked up the three slices and ate them one after another. While he licking his fingers, he asked, "So, what did Kalasin say when you called her?"

Cleon chewed for a bit more before swallowing. "First she got mad and asked me how I got her number. I hope she doesn't get mad at Roald." He pointed to the tall plastic cup by Faleron. "What is that?"

"Sweet tea. Go ahead, I don't mind."

"Thanks. I just need a sip." He found a spare napkin and wiped his hands. Afterwards, he threw the napkin into the trash bin nearby. There was a separate recycling bin for paper and another for plastic and another for aluminum.

They were in the lounge of the building where Daine's proper office was. A few round white tables were set up. A bar was to the left. The food line was to the right. They sat by the window, which extended from ceiling to floor, looking over the busy city below. There was a small river that went through a section of downtown Tusaine. Right next to it was this mega-mall that had boardwalks and stands constructed right up to the water's edge.

"So what else did she say? I mean-- did she hang up in your face?"

The redhead laughed. "No, not really. She's cooler than that." He took a small bite and chewed as he talked. He knew Faleron didn't mind too much about his manners because they were just two guys having lunch and talking about women. Besides, it wasn't like chunks of food were falling from his mouth. "So, she calmly asks me how I get the number. I try not to tell her by mentioning that I got a poem for her." He swallowed. "She sighs like she hates having to be nice to me and then she says she honestly couldn't figure out the last ones I sent her."

"Oh, you mean the ones where you called her teardrop?"

"As if there's anything wrong with that!" Cleon blushed.

Faleron reached across the table to take back his cup and drink from it. "So what happened after that?"

"We actually talked for a while. But she kind of had that tone that tells you that she'd rather not be talking to you," he started making some hand gestures before biting down again on his sandwich. He chewed for a bit and swallowed again. "So that went on until the explosion."

Fal arched one eyebrow. "Explosion?"

"I'll tell you about it later. But back to my fox." Ever since that after party on the night of Cleon and Kel's re-induction ceremony, he affectionately referred to Kalasin as his resentful fox. Roald and Kalasin were honestly not amused at all, but Faleron thought it was a riot (and as Cleon knew, very few things truly made Faleron laugh whole-heartedly). "She's busy working for Mr. Swoop and his wife, the Lioness. I asked her if she'd ever been to Tusaine."

"Is Kalasin going to visit her brother anytime soon? You could see her then."

"I don't know, man. Even if she did come down here, I'm not too sure if that fox would want to hang with me."

His friend tipped his hat back farther on his head. "Hey, where's that never-ending, annoying confidence that you have? You never let that sort of thing stop you before, even when they throw rotten vegetables at you."

"Good point. Thanks for bringing that up! You're smart, dude."

"Well of course. Somebody has to do the thinking around here, Kennan."

Cleon stuck out his tongue at him and crossed his eyes. Faleron kicked him under the table, eliciting a yelp from his best friend. After that, they lapsed into another conversation. This time it was directed at women in general. They'd finished lunch for ten minutes before Cleon's pager went off.

"Hey… it's Kel."

"Why doesn't she just talk to you? You guys have call capability on those pager things now, don't you? Goes with the first class status, right?" the shorter asked. He glanced at his own civilian ID and pager, a worn model that was close to obsolete.

The other man scratched his head. "Yeah, but she wants me to go home and see her right now." He showed the message to him. "Want to come?"

Faleron chuckled. He stood up and pushed his chair under the table. "Unlike you, Kennan—with your carefree, make-your-own-hours job, I work 9 to 5 today. Maybe next time."

"Okay then." He also stood up, moving his chair under the table as an afterthought. They left the lounge, adjusting their belts after eating a satisfying meal.

"So, Fal…"

"Yes, chap?"

Deciding to ignore Fal's constant use of words like 'chap' and 'fellow', Cleon said, "So how is the wild stallion's love life going? Oh, wait… I should probably ask Fia."

"Cleon!"

"It works out very well. She is my neighbor after all," the redhead continued, disregarding the glares he received. "I mean, if her own friends won't protect her from a vicious, womanizing hunk of testosterone like you… who will?"

"…"

"OW! Come on, Fal, I was just joking!"

~~

Keladry parked the squad car in a sub level of the garage. She went to the shoddy elevator, hoping that it wouldn't stall while she was inside. It didn't. She exited when the doors opened again and she moved toward the daylight that streamed from the garage opening.

The sounds of metal hitting metal in a clashing jumble caught her attention. She wondered if it was Qasim at first. Then she knew it was not. He was at the station, with Dom. That left only one other person.

"Joren."

He looked up, a smudge of something dark on his pale cheek. There he sat on a stool in front of her bike, doing things that she did not know—didn't care to know. She knew bits and fragments of the names of the parts he held, or the things he was doing, but she did not know enough. Her mind was constantly thinking of other things, and wouldn't be distracted by that.

Her partner waited for her to continue speaking. When she didn't, he supposed that she was zoning out or something just as pointless. So he stood. He went on watching her as he bent down to wipe his hands on a rag that was set on his toolbox. "You wanted something, Mindelan? Otherwise, go away. I'm not working with you looking over my shoulder."

She blinked out of her semi-trance. "Uh, no. Not about my bike. We have an assignment."

It felt as if someone had flipped on a switch inside of him marked 'Job Mode'. The aura around him altered itself suddenly, ready to deal with complex situations. Be it some ungodly creature barreling into the garage or a barrage of bullets from an unseen assassin, he was indubitably prepared. "An assignment." The word was crisp from his tongue. An expression briefly crossed his face that communicated that he was considering something else. "You know, I'm technically not your partner anymore."

That was true. Wyldon and Flyndon had been sending them on separate cases for a while. But in the large scheme of things, she still considered them partners. And that was mostly because they were still stuck with each other whenever an important mission like the one they just got came around.

"Look. You, Cleon, and I are working this one. It's not arguable."

"Fine," he shrugged. "And it's about…?"

"Urfan Noll escaped from prison. Ozorne had betrayed him. That's how Noll got caught. Now that Noll's out, he's looking to get some sort of revenge on Ozorne, but that's sort of impossible since the man's dead."

Joren expertly evaluated the information from his memory with what she now informed him. "Isran."

"Bingo." Keladry took a step backwards, pointing her thumb over her shoulder. "I'm going up to call Lalasa personally. I already paged Cleon. He's on his way. If Neal's not doing anything, I'll ask him if he's interested in helping." Keladry smiled inwardly. Talking to Joren that time turned out pretty non-confrontational. So it was in fact possible for them to talk for two minutes without suddenly provoking each other.

She'd taken six steps when Joren called back to her. She turned, wondering what he had to say to ruin her semi-happy moment. "Yes?"

"Don't call Isran."

So much for non-confrontational.

"Why not?" she frowned. "She has to know about this. This man may be out to kill her!" Nothing he could have said would have sounded more ridiculous than to not tell Lalasa about Noll. After all, if someone out there were plotting revenge against her for something her dead father had done, Keladry would have wanted to know (not that her father was dead or a criminal). How could Joren tell her not to call Lalasa?

He readily explained. "We need her to lure Noll out into the open. There's no way we can find him otherwise."

Keladry thought for a moment. "A bartender downtown takes bribes for information. I'm sure--"

"I already considered that," Joren snapped. "Remember," he hissed, "Tusaine is my territory. I'd know if a man were able to spit out facts we need."

Territory, like some predator having staked his claims and marked his borders. She mentally shied away from the idea of it and let her partner continue.

"And besides, Noll is experienced. He'll know better than to come out of hiding before the time he chooses to kill her. And it won't be some poison in a soup. He'll want to make Isran suffer."

So he knows the mind of a criminal. Though scary it is, somehow that doesn't surprise me.

"Just call her and find out her plans for the next couple of days. We'll watch her from the shadows."

Before she could protest again, he pointed to the exit of the garage. She frowned and tried to speak. Once again, he stabbed his finger in the direction of the exit, silently telling her to go. Feeling oddly like a child that had just been sent to her room, Keladry gave up and departed. But not before muttering under her breath how much she ought to deck him.

When Keladry arrived upstairs, Neal was talking to Dom via phone. She let herself in and waved. Her friend looked up from his newspaper—the comics and horoscopes—and grinned.

"Hey, Kel's here. I'll talk to you later, man. Bye." He hung up. "So! What's up, Tough Stuff?"

She took a seat across from him, hearing the screech of the chair legs on the linoleum floor. She picked up her chair a centimeter to move it and so, avoided creating more offending noise. "What work have you been doing lately?"

He chuckled. "The best damn work a man could get. I patrol at the riverside mall or I'm a school crossing guard." When he observed her wide perplexed eyes, he started laughing harder. "For being in first class all these years, I've never had such easy work. It's a dream come true… like the Chief doesn't trust me with anything. I LOVE it!"

"That's nothing to be proud of, Neal."

"I think it is. I mean, big first class paycheck for measly third class work. Oh yeah."

She growled softly. "Haven't you done anything noteworthy at all since you got here?"

"Hmm…" He snapped his fingers. "As a matter o' fact, Chief sent me with a couple of his men for a few drug busts and then I assisted in a homicide case." He pouted. "That didn't last long though. The suspect turned himself in after going insane with guilt." A fly buzzed around his head. He swatted it away, but continued to follow its movement with his eyes. "Uh… you were saying?"

"Yeah. Stone, Cleon, and I are going to be Lalasa's bodyguards… without her knowing… and we were wondering if you wanted to join us." She folded her hands in her lap now. She found herself amused by his continual attempts to get the fly that was circling his head like an orbiting moon.

He reached down to roll up his newspaper and held it up in the air. Neal continued to speak to her while his eyes were watching the offensive insect. "Well, it sounds like a definite change of pace. And I suppose," he stood up. His chair legs made a screeching noise while scraping across the kitchen floor. "That I should do a hard job every now and then to keep in shape." He swiped his newspaper through the air, barely missing the winged insect. Keladry fought hard not to smile. "I'm not as close to Lalasa as the rest of you are, but I'd like to be. So I guess…"

He gripped the newspaper in both hands and swung it like a baseball bat. He missed and hit the refrigerator, causing a couple of magnets and scraps of paper to fall off. The fly landed on the table in front of Keladry.

Without hesitation, she took into hand another piece of newspaper and rolled it up. Then, leaning across the table, dutifully squashed the fly to create a dark smudge on the tabletop. She regretfully glanced at the dark spot across the stock market report, but shrugged and deposited the newspaper in the recycling bin next to the refrigerator. Neal didn't have stocks anyway. At least she thought he didn't.

Neal unrolled his newspaper, his cheeks flushed, and sat. Keladry fixed him with a friendly gaze that prompted him to speak.

"Uh. Sure. I'm in."

After that, Keladry went back to her own place so she could call Lalasa. She could still smell smoke from her open window, but decided not to go upstairs and see the Riders until after she made her call. While waiting for someone on the other end to answer, she wondered how close Noll was to Tusaine. Was it a good idea to stake out outside Daine's residence to keep an eye on those who lived inside?

I'll talk to the guys about it later.

"Hello?"

"Hi, 'Lasa. It's me."

"Oh! Kel, hey. What do I owe the honor of this phone call, Hon?"

Keladry sat down on the floor in semi-lotus position. "Oh, nothing much. Are you going out tonight?"

There was a dramatic sigh from the other side. "No. I think Roald will be out driving Ms. Sarrasri and Mr. Salmalin until midnight. I don't feel like doing anything special. Just curling up to watch a scary movie with a big bowl of fat free popcorn. Why?"

"No reason. Just a pointless how-are-you-what's-up question. What about tomorrow?"

Lalasa giggled. "Oh, well tomorrow's a different matter! I'm going to surprise Roald with a dinner at the Griffin's Nest. There's a great review in the newspaper's food critic section." She shuffled around some papers. "I had it in front of me a few seconds ago. Lucky me, there was a spot open in reservations! I was afraid a couple of hours ago that I'd have to wait until next week."

"Wow. That's great. You and Roald never get bored, do you?"

"Uh," Lalasa's voice took a sudden drop for uneasiness. "No! Heheh… of course not."

Keladry's brow creased. "Lalasa?"

"We're fine. Everyday is a 'first date', you betcha!" she cheered, strained enough so that Kel noticed. The female DJPF officer decided to let it slide without probing any further. If they were truly the friends they claimed to be, Lalasa would confide in her on her own time.

"I'm so happy for you. Anyway, the guys and I are going to be busy with a job, so… sorry if you can't reach us in the next couple of days."

Lalasa had made no plans to meet up with them. Still, the fact that Keladry had called to tell her made her feel better. It meant that she, Lalasa Isran, was still a person that Keladry considered in her mind regularly, a person that had to be informed of things just like any other close friend would be.

And Kel would never know how much she had cheered her up. For all she knew, Lalasa was blissfully grateful for her 'normal' life and didn't miss Kel at all. Keladry was honestly happy for her. And she would continue to be so. "I suppose I'll see you later. Have fun, and tell Roald I said hi."

"Sure thing. Bye."

"Bye."

Keladry hung up, disappointed in herself. At any given second, she'd had the chance to blurt out Lalasa's safety status. She could have told one of her closest friends that there was possibly a man whom Lalasa had never seen in person before out to kill her in cold blood. Odds were that this man was creeping towards Tusaine at a very fast rate, ready to wring her neck and strangle her.

Instead, Keladry Mindelan made small chitchat.

It was for the best. Stone's right. There's nothing else to lure Noll out of hiding with. It won't do Lalasa any good to worry her and make her hysterical. Hysterics only complicate things.

Her thoughts did not justify the fact that she'd made Lalasa into bait. Keladry knew the feeling. She didn't like setting up others like this. But if it were all in the best interests of the potential victim… She threw the word 'victim' out of her head. Things weren't going to be like that because she was a good officer—a very good officer. And no one would get hurt while she was on the job.

Boosted by a bit of confidence, she decided to prove her calmness by proceeding to eat a late lunch, early dinner until her partners arrived. The refrigerator contained half of a large deli sandwich from last night. It called to her like honey to a bear. Not that she'd ever devour food with growls or other grizzly bear-type ways, but Keladry was definitely hungry enough to be capable of such things.

~~

If she'd had that much orange juice to begin with, Cleon had now rid her of all of it. Neal regarded the empty plastic carton in the trash bin with much delight. And then he spotted a few empty bags of fat free potato chips. Too bad he'd just arrived. He wondered how long it took the sharpshooter to eat and drink that much. When he caught Kel's searing gaze, his smile faded and he shrugged.

"I swear, he did the same thing to poor Faleron when we were watching a movie there a couple of weeks ago. When we went to the video rentals, he stopped by the convenience store next door for a couple of gallons of pulpy Tropicana."

"Can you really blame me?" Cleon shrugged. "Sunny Delight sucks."

Kel nudged Cleon with her elbow as the redhead walked by. "You are so buying this week's groceries."

"It's Neal's turn!"

"Too bad. And remember, stick to the lists. This time, you can buy all the orange juice you want. Stop drinking mine," she scolded.

Joren cleared his throat. "If we're done chatting now, children, I'd like to get this over with."

Neal folded his hands behind his head, trying not to comment on Joren's greater-than-thou attitude. He smiled amiably at the blonde. "What do you want us to do, buddy-boy?"

"Shut up for starters."

Keladry cut between the two of them before anything could escalate. Neal looked as if he were disappointed about being prevented from retaliating to Joren's lack of respect, but at the same time, he was relieved (Years at the Academy had taught him better than to mess with Joren— though he did happen to forget this occasionally). "Okay, and after that?"

Joren gladly continued. The sooner this was done, the sooner he could return to his normal lifestyle away from the rest of them and unnoticed by the world. "Queenscove and Kennan, stakeout. Mindelan on standby."

Neither Cleon nor Neal had much a problem with that. Keladry did.

"Why aren't I on stakeout?"

The blonde glared at her, also folding his arms. She could feel an insult coming a mile away. "Do you care to remember the last time I had you watch someone? You fell asleep and Faleron nearly blew your brains out."

Neal's eyes widened. "When did this happen? I know Fal used to be a thief and you guys fought, but no one ever told me he got the jump on Kel!"

Cleon laughed and slapped his knee. This did nothing to assure Neal. The fact that the redhead was laughing only made Neal a little queasy about the topic. "I remember that. When Fal robbed us, Joren and I were so pissed, you could have mistaken us for twins or something."

"Okay, now I'm scared."

Keladry put all this aside. "That was once! I'd never fall asleep again. Especially not when one of my friends' lives is at stake."

"Put it this way," Cleon cut in, seeking to pacify her. "Unlike the Neal and I, staying up the whole entire night, you'll be rested to watch over Lalasa tomorrow. Nothing will happen to her tonight. I mean-- there's no way that Noll could be here already."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Joren muttered. He glared at Keladry, as if she'd been solely responsible for all their troubles. How she hated that look. With a roll of his eyes, he spoke again. "So are we all satisfied now?"

The three men stared at Keladry for her answer. She turned down their gazes with a quick sweeping glare at them and then reluctantly nodded her head. Cleon abruptly stood and whooped happily. Neal yanked him back down to his seat with a laugh.

"Guys, I want you to make sure that Joren takes all precautions for Lalasa's safety. She's our friend. I don't want…" Keladry trailed off when she realized Joren was coming in closer range of hearing her whispered words to Cleon and Neal. She looked significantly at both her friends before turning around and breezing past a glaring Joren.

Eight o'clock in the evening found Cleon and Neal sitting in a dark car (borrowed from one of Buri's people) parked outside Daine Sarrasri's residence, where Lalasa and Roald also lived. The car smelt of too many pine air fresheners that could be bought at fueling stations. Neal suggested cracking the windows to let in some of the night air. Cleon disagreed. He didn't like city air at night.

"It has a hint of smog in it wherever you go, even if you deny it," he said sagaciously, as if an expert on the subject.

The streetlamps were on. They made sure to stay well out of the glowing halos of light that it cast. The moths fluttered about the bright orbs of light. The nocturnal insects were the only other living things moving about besides the two officers sitting in the car. And even if another living soul passed by, no one should have been able to see the men parked in the shadows.

Cleon checked the time. He pressed a button on the dashboard that briefly lit the clock in bright green numbers. They dimmed after three seconds. He sighed with an shrug, as if wanting to draw attention from an unseen audience. "This is so boring."

Neal agreed wordlessly with a slight inclination of his head. He was sitting on the driver's side, snacking on a bag of chips. The incessant crunch of food in his mouth got on his companion's nerves a tiny bit. When Neal realized that he had less leg space than he thought, he reached under the seat and pulled on the lever that would move his seat backwards. Cleon took the welcome distraction as an opportunity to take a handful of chips for his own grumbling tummy.

"I wonder where Joren is. He didn't say what he was going to be doing tonight, did he?"

"No, he didn't. Doesn't surprise me."

"I bet you he's going to do something really important while we're sitting in this car and he'll get all the credit."

Neal thought to himself. His expression communicated an odd sort of acceptance about the fact. "He's been doing that since our Academy days. Just like that whole Squealin' Nealan thing he tortured me with."

Cleon frowned. "…Squealin'… Nealan?"

Inside the house, Lalasa skimmed the newspaper while waiting for her popcorn in the microwave. Since she was to be the only one home until after midnight, she went ahead and made herself as comfortable as possible in thin cotton pajamas and a pair of fuzzy slippers. She knew they'd make her friends laugh, but she thought the night footwear was cute. Pausing a second to admire the adorable green slippers, she propped her feet on the tabletop and grinned. Then she resumed focus on the newspaper.

"Where is it?" she muttered aloud. The constant hum of the microwave and sounds of kernels popping were the only other noises all around her. She hated this sort of loneliness. A big old place and no one but herself in it. It was like being in the middle of a library and having the urge to scream just so everyone would look up.

Not that popcorn kernels had eyes to look up with.

A certain advertisement caught her eye. It was just the one she was looking for. A large bird with certain feline features in black ink sat atop a tower. Besides the tower was a table with a candle on top of it. Lalasa groped through her mess of newspaper sections and pens for a highlighter. She succeeded in finding a green dry erase marker and circled the advertisement and the address it gave with it.

With her task done, she went to the den where she planned to curl up on the couch and watch her movie. Normally, she would watch it in the Room, but no room in the new house had gained the title. Right from the start, a frightened young woman ran across the screen, shrieking like a banshee. Her blonde hair did nothing to conceal the fact that it was bleached hair. The rest of her physical attributes seemed just as Hollywood-derived as she was.

Lalasa groaned inwardly. She had placed the remote on the coffee table in front of her, but she was far too lazy to stand and get it. So she couldn't stop the movie. That was fine with her. After all, it couldn't be that bad, could it?

"Help!" the actress in the movie yelled. The assailant in black with a raised dagger pursued her into the shadows. On cue, the music orchestrated purposely for eeriness chimed in. Suspense that was supposed to have been built up reserved itself for Lalasa's suspenseful musing about how long the movie would last. A scream, and the title appeared. The letters dripped in blood. Return of the Shadow Monster Part 4

Lalasa sighed. Where had all the good movies gone?

Outside, Cleon was determined to defend his spirited claim. Mountains would crumble. The sky would turn dark as the depths of a Hell-like abyss. The most ferocious demons could be called into existence by apocalyptic forces he knew nothing about. But he would still support his most dear opinions.

"I happen to think she's a great actress! I mean—they brought her back to do part 4 of the movie series. I can't wait until the next one comes out."

Neal snickered. The amount of loyalty and sentiment that his friend put into these movies was nothing but entertaining. "Oh, I believe I can wait. In fact, I plan to avoid it entirely." He stroked his chin. "The only good use for those movies is having your date suddenly get frightened. Five seconds of a shrill scream, and she clings to you the rest of the way." His lips curled into a rather goofy smile. Then the smile became an even sillier grin. He gazed happily into space, probably reliving one of his more memorable dates. "Uh-huh."

"Don't you ever think about anything else?" his companion asked.

"Oh, sure I do. I'm not completely hopeless. Ask Kel."

He nodded. He didn't need to ask Kel. "Well anyway, I still think that Return of the Shadow Monster movies are the greatest. They're classics!" He made emphasizing hand gestures. "The director's a pretty cool guy. He created and wrote the whole thing! I think I have his autograph somewhere among my stuff."

"Uh, cool, I guess. Considering how weird those movies are..."

They argued a bit more about the greatness of cheap horror movies. Neal decided it was hopeless when Cleon started to talk about his affinity for the villains using modern methods rather than the traditional "beat 'em up, cut 'em up, stuff 'em in a dumpster" manner of senseless killing.

It didn't matter to Neal. Any way he looked at it, there was a killer in the background that seemed almost invincible until the very end. Then a plot device like 'deus ex machina' gave the character last-minute courage or brains to become the hero or heroine of the sadly predictable story. Only those who were easily excited by the same things time and time again could ever appreciate it.

"Why are you giving me that funny look?" Cleon asked innocently.

Neal rolled his eyes. "No reason."

Inside…

A loud slamming sound made Lalasa's heart skip a beat. It was a miracle she hadn't screamed. Instead, she held her breath. After a while, she began breathing normally again and attempted to calm her racing heart. What on earth was that noise? Was there a burglar in the house? Don't get paranoid. That's impossible. Who'd be dumb enough to break into Daine's home? She rose from her place on the couch and warily made her way toward the origin of the sound. It turned out to be the kitchen.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

She received no reply. Becoming bolder, she called out a bit louder. Still, there was no reply. Lalasa glanced around her, searching for anything that could make such a loud noise.

BAM!

She nearly jumped a foot into the air with surprise. She whirled around to face what was obviously behind her. Her nerves settled as her gaze came upon the open window, the quaint little shutters slamming in upon the outer windowpane because of the wind.

The Carthakian woman chuckled to herself. Her own fears had duped her into believing someone had broken into the house! And all it truly happened to be was the window shutters. Roald would probably laugh as well if he or anyone else were here. She made a mental note to relate the little occurrence to him when he and Daine arrived home. Hearing him laugh with her about how childish her fears were could most definitely cheer her up.

Leaning over the counter from which the window was located over, she pulled in the shutters and set the latch, then carefully lowered the sliding glass of the window. After, she put the latch on that. There, she thought. No more scaring poor little me with ridiculous little things.

"Oh! The popcorn!" She mentally slapped her forehead and dashed over to the microwave, hoping her snack had not become cold.

It was still very warm and the aroma filled her nostrils. It reminded her of carnivals. The smell of popcorn always did. She'd only been to one carnival as a child, and even then, one of her father's henchmen had taken her in Ozorne's place. Still, she had fun with Evan—the henchman—because he was nicer to her than most of her father's men. Absently, she wondered where Evan was now. Had he fought at the Immortals battle at the President's estate?

A shriek from the holo-screen in the living room called to her. One of the main damsel's friends was being chased. Lalasa shut the microwave after removing the bag of popcorn. She quickly dumped the movie snack into a large plastic bowl and deposited the now empty bag in the wastebasket. She started eating the delicious popcorn treat as she pushed the swinging kitchen door open with her shoulder.

"Mmm… nothing like Orville Redenbacher popcorn and a cheesy slasher movie to pass the time," she said to herself for what must have been the fiftieth time that evening.

As soon as the kitchen door ceased swinging on its hinges, Joren stepped out of the shadow of the refrigerator. Luckily for him, the humongous fridge was not next to the microwave or the table where Lalasa had sat with her newspapers. The other optional hiding place would have been the food pantry, and it was cramped enough as it was. No need to stuff a grown man in with all the cans and instant soup mixes. He'd only crush the cereal.

Joren knew that Lalasa kept her back to the kitchen door while watching her movie. Since she was lying on her side on top of the sofa, she probably wouldn't have a view of the door without sitting up first and then turning around. This worked out fine with him. He could sneak out the kitchen without any difficulty and continue his preliminary check of the house.

"Hmph. And Mindelan says I don't take the precautions for Isran's safety," he muttered inaudibly to himself, gloating in his efforts having proven his partner wrong. He nudged the kitchen door open, anticipating a squeak that the door's hinges might have. No sound. He proceeded to watch the sofa from where he was while slowly pushing the door a bit more and slipping out of the kitchen.

Four young men and women were talking in nervous tones on the holo-screen—all with perfect magazine model appearances save for their distraught faces. Their voices had the effects of nails on a chalkboard to the young blonde infiltrator. Joren had the right mind to shoot that screen or at least destroy every single disk that the movie was recorded on... in every movie rental store… in every city in Mithros. It could be his one major contribution to society.

Either that or assassinate the terrible creator of The Shadow Monster series.

~~

"Cleon! I swear, if you mention that damn movie one more time…"

The redhead bristled imperceptibly, spitefully snatching away the bag of chips from his companion's arms. He started munching away, but still spoke. "The man happens to be a Hollywood legend. And if you're just too boring and stupid to realize it, then you can't eat my chips!"

Neal could have strangled him. Cleon neglected the fact that the chips had been bought in a weak recompense for all the orange juice Cleon had bought with Neal's nobles and coppers. Before they had started their stakeout, Neal had sent Cleon on a quick food run. The sharpshooter took currency instead of credits because Neal honestly didn't trust Cleon with his money where food was involved. It took Cleon three trips to finally get chips and non-orange juice drinks for the night.

The older of the two wondered how long it took Faleron to get used to this. He knew Faleron's sweet tooth was far worse than Cleon's for certain, but at least Faleron didn't drive anyone crazy with it.

"Man. Now I feel like watching the movie again."

"I can't take it anymore!"

~~

A slight rumbling in his lower abdomen indicated that Joren should have eaten a bit more than the scant amount of food he dared call dinner. If luck was with him at all, there might be crumbs left of whatever food Cleon or Neal brought with them in the car. Not that he'd seen them. But he suspected they'd bring as much. After all, two bored officers with nothing more to do than sit outside a council member's house had to have brought something. And since copious amounts of food were always first priority on at least Cleon's list, Joren could count on them to supply him with a light snack later.

Heck, he didn't even have to ask if they would spare him some food. There was probably enough to feed a family of five in that car with them. And Joren would be taking some. After all, he was doing all the work.

Walking up and down the halls, he went inside each room. He made a thorough search as quick and efficient as he could make it before exiting the room again and moving on to the next. Checking out the bottom floor wouldn't be too bad. There weren't that many rooms. Most of the first floor space belonged to the living room and such other public rooms.

The bedrooms upstairs were an entirely different story. He could imagine how many rooms were up there. And at the same time, how was he supposed to keep an eye on Lalasa?

He reasoned he could practically leap down the steps four at a time if he heard her scream. Or even better, hop the rail and just land like a cat on his feet. After falling off a couple of stories with a Stormwing as a cushion, Joren generally didn't fear his safety when leaping off heights. It made the blood in his veins sing.

On his way to the stairwell, he checked in on Lalasa. She remained in the same place as before, lying on her side on the sofa with the bowl of popcorn. The doors were locked. The windows were secured. The whole operation was going smoother than he thought it would.

Once upstairs, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. When he could make out boundaries and objects, he went on with his patrol. First up was Roald's bedroom on the right.

A bookcase, a comm.-screen, a dresser, and his bed were the only large furnishings the young man had. A few framed photographs and gifts from Lalasa were scattered across the dresser top, and dirty laundry piled itself in the corner, leaving the floor bare. Joren didn't really expect much from him. After all, Roald had been raised to be a perfect, responsible politician for the 'people of tomorrow'. In fact, if the room wasn't neat and orderly, Joren would have been shocked, figuratively speaking.

He exited and made his way diagonally across the hall to the guest room where Councilman Numair would sleep during his visit. The whole room was meticulously decorated. He supposed that Daine wanted to impress any guests she had over. She had to. Impressions were important in the world of politics. Or, so he heard. Numair's bags were unpacked and set beside the door leading to a private bathroom. A few random vases of flowers made Joren wrinkle his nose in distaste. It hardly was worth mentioning that he detested flowers.

As Joren crossed the room to inspect the closet, he felt a subtle jolt from the floor. Not a real electrical jolt, but something that just made the floor shake for a second, something he felt through the soles of his feet. He'd heard nothing, but he knew someone else was moving around up there with him. Perhaps a window had opened and someone not watching his weight just jumped in, causing the slight jolt Joren had felt.

He hand slowly moved toward his holster, fingers itching for the handle on one of his Desert Eagles. He wouldn't use the Quicksilver that Sam had given him. Not on this job. Not for scum like Noll.

~~

"Hey…" Cleon managed as he tried to release Neal's chokehold on him.

"I warned you! You just wanted to drive me insane with all these mindless comments of yours, huh?" Neal accused, half-crazed by his companions constant babblings. If Neal had known way back when the two of them hung out at the Sand Piper in Seastone that Cleon was this strange, then he would have volunteered Kel to go stakeout in his place.

Cleon caught sight of something flashing in a window above the lit one through which he could see Lalasa. He pointed desperately to it. A strangled sound escaped his lips, trying very much to show Neal what was going on.

"Neal! Win…dow!" he coarsely croaked. Neal's grip loosened.

"Huh?"

Cleon took advantage of the moment and opened the car door, practically falling out head before feet onto the paved street. He skinned his elbow in the process. He winced and pointed. "Lalasa! There's…"

Neal squinted from where he sat in the diriver's seat. Then, he leaned over to Cleon's side and pushed the car door further open so he could see. Something else appeared in the window above Lalasa's. A small beam of light was haphazardly moving across the room. He cursed under his breath and got out of the car. The crumbs of chips spilled out onto the sidewalk.

Cleon kicked his own door closed and felt around wildly for a gun—any gun— he might have on his person. When he came up with a revolver he kept for sentiment, he made an unrecognizable squeak of frustration and got into the car again to get the standard issue Glock gun in the glove compartment.

Neal was already making his way across the street, avoiding the light of the street lamp and moving along the walls of neighboring buildings. He only had one gun, but then again, he wasn't as trigger-happy with it as his partner.

"Neal!" Cleon hissed. "Keys! The glove compartment's locked!"

The older man impatiently reached into his pocket to retrieve the keys and threw them at the redhead without taking a precaution of aiming. Cleon barely jumped high enough to loop the key ring around his index finger. As soon as his feet touched ground, the sharpshooter, plopped down on his seat again, madly going through each key on the ring until the glove compartment opened.

"I'll go around back," Neal called in a stage whisper. He didn't know if there was anyone close nearby, but he wasn't taking any chances of anyone hearing him. "You go through the fire escape on the left. Don't let Lalasa see you!"

Finally, the compartment opened and Cleon was able to get the second gone and a spare magazine. He prayed he wouldn't have to shoot anyone. "A man's got to do what a man's got to do."

The overused line boosted his confidence. He shut the car door and sprinted away.

~~

Joren could feel it. He virtually glided down the upstairs hallway on the balls of his feet, careful not to make a sound. When he stopped outside Lalasa's room, he could barely hear the floor creak from someone's footsteps within.

Noll. It had to be. Who else would sneak around in this fashion?

Besides Joren, anyway.

"Damn it!" a gruff voice cursed. Any doubt of an intruder vanished. There was no denying it now. Joren cocked his gun and prepared to burst in.

"Ugh! Popcorn in my teeth! Yuck!" Lalasa groaned as she jogged up the stairs. Daine didn't keep floss in the bathroom downstairs. Lalasa would have to go to the one she shared with Roald. She yawned and stretched her arms over her head while groping for a switch along the wall that would turn the light fixtures on.

Joren restrained himself from yelling out to the Carthakian woman a few insults of his own creation, but that would ruin a lot of things. He'd been the one telling everyone to keep her in the dark about Noll in the first place. With one final angry thought directed toward the person under his protection, he dove into the hallway closet where the towels and spare blankets were kept. He tumbled in among spare bottles of hotel style shampoo and soap cakes as well. A broom handle stuck into the middle of his back, but he gritted his teeth and bore it anyway.

Lalasa passed by without any thought to the closet at all. She found the switch for the hallway lights and flicked it on. Joren listened low for the sounds coming from Lalasa's room. They'd completely stopped. That was good.

Wait. That was bad.

What if Lalasa didn't hear anything at all and went in her room with the intruder still inside? Then she would be—

Joren now spent his energy restraining himself from kicking open the door and charging into Lalasa's room with a bloody war cry. It seemed very uncharacteristic for him to be having such thoughts. When a broom handle stabs one in the back and nostrils are invaded by the sickly sweet smells of too many soaps and cleansers in one place, certain things could drive one to the brink of insanity. Even for the likes of him.

He expected a good bonus on his next paycheck for this.

Lalasa, done with her flossing, left the bathroom while humming a random song. She entered her room, turning on the lights and ceiling fan as she found something to tie her hair back for the rest of the night. Joren stealthily escaped the closet and darted forward, ready to burst in the very moment Noll decided to attack Lalasa.

Crack.

Glass. Glass breaking in long crack down the center of a window. That was the sound that caused Joren, Lalasa, and whatever intruder there was to freeze where they were. It wasn't coming from Lalasa's room. Nor was it coming from Joren's end of the hallway.

It was actually coming from Daine's private end of the hallway. There was another one? Another invading person to deal with? Joren tucked his gun back into the waistband of his pants as he ran as soundlessly as he could toward the other end of the hall.

"What the…" Lalasa came out of her room. Fear struck her. She scrambled to the closet and retrieved the broom. It was a broom, yes, but the handle was thick and heavy. She could swing it without trouble. At least, she hoped she could. Of all the nights burglars picked to come, it had to be the night she was alone. Fate obvious had no regard for her.

Joren could see the shadow of the figure. The stranger clumsily appeared at the entrance to Daine's room, bumping his shin on the doorframe and muffling swear words. The blonde glanced behind him. The light from the opposite end of the long winding hall did not reach his end. Perhaps Lalasa was being smart and calling the DJPF right that very moment.

"Ugh!" the shadowed stranger grunted as he stumbled backwards into the master bedroom. Joren was upon him in a second. It was a quick tackle to the carpeted bedroom floor, Joren immediately making a chopping motion to the back of his opponent's neck and twisting his arms behind his back. He pressed the barrel of his gun to the middle of his captive's back.

That had gone far too easy. Something had to be wrong.

"This is why I'm a sharpshooter, not a big bruising enforcer," his prisoner moaned into the carpet that his mouth was pressed up against. Joren sat rigid.

"Kennan?" he whispered fiercely. He grabbed a fistful of the other's hair and squinted down at it in the darkness… a dark copper, but blatantly red pigment of hair. He grasped the jaw and turned him around just a bit. Then he flicked on the glowing light from his pager to see…pale freckles?

The expert sharpshooter winced. "Stone… get that gun out of my back! That hurts!"

Joren released him. As soon as the taller man was on his feet, Joren grabbed him by the collar and hauled him toward the same window that Cleon had accidentally broken while trying to climb up through the fire escape. Before he knew what was going on, the dazed officer was shoved out onto the grid metal of the fire escape while Joren attempted to secure the cracked window behind them.

"Get down the ladder now, you dolt!" Joren ordered while halfway twisting the locking mechanism on the strange latch of the window. When he slammed the window shut, it ought to have locked on the inside.

Though he was still reeling from the tackle and the numbing blow to the back of his neck, Cleon clumsily did as he was told. He scampered down and waited for Joren to get down before he would turn tail and run. They ran (or at least, Joren ran and dragged Cleon behind him) around the back, where the redhead quickly explained what he and Neal had planned to do.

"I can't believe you were in there! You should have told us you were going to be in there!" Cleon groused. "Neal was right! You are just in it to get all the credit for yourself!"

"Shut up, Kennan. Now where's Queenscove?"

"He said he was coming in this way," he indicated the back entrance rarely used by Daine. The furnace was located there. And that was all. He couldn't imagine finding his way through the thick metal door that was covered in a layer of rust.

The lock on the door was broken. Obviously Neal had been too impatient to be discreet about leaving a trail of evidence. The two officers entered the building once again, this time aware of each other's presence so as not to confuse each other with the enemy again.

~~

Lalasa inspected the window in Daine's room. The way the inner latch was set told her that no one had been able to enter. They'd just broken the glass. Still, that was proof enough. Someone that very night had tried to get inside this home. She had to tell her employer in the morning, if not that very night.

The doorbell rang.

Lalasa frowned. Who would visit at this time of night?

Still carrying the broom with her, she ran downstairs and skidded to the main entrance. Her breathing was still hard, but she pressed the button for the intercom anyway. "Who… who is it?"

"Just me, Neal. Can I come in?"

Lalasa undid the locks on the door. She let the broom stand against the corner and let the door swing open. There before her was Neal, snug in a warm looking jacket. The late night air came in visible wisps from his lips. She shivered as the coldness seeped into the house. "Hi. What are you doing here?"

Neal stepped inside, closing the door for her. He rubbed his hands together trying to warm himself. "Oh, well, I just got ditched by the others. Turned out they didn't need me working with them after all. You know how it goes. I'm rather happy about it. The more rest for me, eh?" He took off his jacket and hung it on the wooden coat rack beside the door. "I was passing along this side of town and I was hoping Roald wanted to go rent videogames or something. I'm desperate for company."

She laughed, so relieved that someone she knew was now there with her. Of course, she didn't know Neal that well. This was an excellent opportunity to get to know him. She had nothing to be afraid of now. Nothing would happen while he was with her. Keladry knew Neal long before Kel knew her. That was enough for Lalasa to trust him. "Don't you go to nightclubs or something?"

"I do, I do. But tonight I didn't feel like dancing with strangers. I felt like chilling out with friends." He rubbed his arms. "Speaking of chilled…"

Lalasa gasped. "Oh! Come with me. I'll get you something like hot cocoa. Do you like hot cocoa, darlin'?"

"Oh, sure. Sounds great." He followed her to the kitchen, eyeing everything around him with distrust. From behind a thin wall that separated the back furnace room from the kitchen, Joren and Cleon were eavesdropping. They had no idea how Neal had gotten back out of the building and around the front of the house, but he had. It was a smart move. Lalasa had to be distracted from upstairs and with another man in the house, the intruder was sure not to attack—not without risk to himself.

Lalasa warmed the mug of water in the microwave while she searched the food pantry for a packet of cocoa mix. She bit her lip, wondering if she should tell Neal about the cracked window upstairs. When the timer on the microwave went off, she couldn't help it. She asked.

Neal perked up. "Oh?"

She nodded as she removed the mug from the microwave and emptied the cocoa mix into it. She took a small spoon from a drawer of silverware and began stirring. "Yeah. It was so weird. If I'd been downstairs with the movie still on, I wouldn't have heard it. But I wasn't. And I did hear it!"

He seemed to be considering something. She would never know that he was contemplating whether or not he should lie. "Oh. I wasn't going to tell you this…"

"Wasn't going to tell me what?"

He accepted the steaming cocoa from her and blew on the surface gently. "Um," he rattled his brain for a response. "The reason I stopped by was because I saw a couple of hoodlums going crazy through the streets pulling little pranks on random houses. Not every house. Just one every couple of blocks. I saw them come near here. Before I knew it, I ended up here."

Lalasa growled. "You mean some punks did this? Some lowly, filthy punks with nothing better to do?"

He held up his hands in his defense, afraid she might take out her anger on something. "Whoa! Calm down!"

"Sorry. I'm just out of it tonight." She yawned and rubbed her eyes.

"That's okay. We all get that way." He sipped his warm drink. "If you still feel kind of weird, go up to bed and try to sleep it off. I'll be down here until Roald and the others come home, okay?"

She seemed uncertain. "Are you sure about that? I mean—you don't have to go to all the trouble…"

"Aww, nonsense! I'm cool with it. Hey… you guys get those pay-per-view channels, don't you?" he grinned.

His cheery attitude reminded her of Cleon, except without all the strange and innocent goofiness. She couldn't help but give in and laugh. "Yes, we do. Go ahead. Knock yourself out."

He stood. "Okay then! Get yourself up to bed, and I will explore the wonders of 452 channels…"

They left the kitchen. He took the cocoa with him to the living room and set it down on a coaster on the coffee table. Lalasa headed towards the stairs. "Now don't flip to the home shopping channel. Somehow, everyone manages to fall asleep while watching that one."

Neal saluted. "Yes ma'am!"

"Goodnight. And thanks." She flashed him one more smile before heading up. Her fears left her and her spirits were lifted. Nothing bad would happen now.

~~

Neal propped his feet up on the coffee table just as Joren and Cleon entered from the kitchen. Neal turned the holo-screen a little louder to drown out their conversation from Lalasa's ears overhead. His expression became as serious as the other two. They sat down and for a while, no one said anything.

"While Lalasa was up there, I did a quick check of the ground floor. I didn't find anything. When I heard something above, I assumed Cleon was either fighting Noll, or being a bumbling idiot, so I snuck out the way I came and rung the doorbell to get Lalasa downstairs," Neal explained in detail. "You should have told us you were going to be here."

"Yeah. You nearly killed me up there," Cleon huffed.

Neal frowned. "That was you?"

Joren didn't seem to take it as seriously as they did. "It doesn't matter. I heard someone up there before Cleon's blunder with the window." He paused. "I don't even want to know how it cracked." Here, the redhead blushed. "The point is: Noll is still out there. From the time Lalasa was in the bathroom and I was in the hallway closet, he must have gone downstairs and back out the house while Neal was in a different room."

"Are you sure? I mean, you didn't see anything at all with that flashlight of yours?" the oldest of them asked.

"What the hell are you talking about, Queenscove? I didn't have a flashlight."

Cleon and Neal exchanged worried glances. Cleon gulped. "Are you sure? Because we saw you from the car. You were upstairs with a flashlight. Anyone could see it from the window."

Joren rolled his eyes. "I think I would know whether or not I was using a flashlight, Kennan." The same thought appeared in all their minds. The fourth unknown man, they presumed to be Noll. "Well. The bastard got lucky."

The three men sat silently surrounded by their own thoughts until an hour later when a car pulled up. Joren and Cleon exited through the back, making sure to replace the old lock with new one they found in the furnace. Neal walked to the kitchen with them.

"Hmm. That's funny."

Joren froze. He spun around. "What?"

Neal pointed to the table. He started piling the newspaper sections neatly. "Lalasa hadn't left these so messy when she fixed me the hot cocoa. Guess I should have paid closer attention to what I was doing. I must have moved them around while we were talking."

Joren said nothing. He couldn't put his finger on it. He couldn't guess it. The feeling of being in a vulnerable position infuriated him. This particular sensation annoyed him. He'd scarcely felt it in his whole entire career. Joren would make short work of this infamous Noll as soon as he came close. He swore it.

~~

"Why is it that you have to watch everything I do?" Lalasa asked Keladry as she folded the laundry.

"Huh? Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to. I was just thinking about things, " Kel replied. "We, um, never hang out anymore."

The older woman moved the neat stacks of clothing and towels to the side of the table. She rested her hands on her hips as she scrutinized the other young woman with her. "Usually I'm the complaining about these things. What's with your sudden guilt trip?"

Keladry chuckled nervously. "No reason. I'm just here… as a friend. And hanging out is what friends do, right?"

Lalasa leaned toward her, her brow creasing. "Are you trying to get a favor from me?"

"No! It's nothing like that!"

"Are you sure? Because if you need something, just tell me. It's what friends do, right?" she replied with a hint of sarcasm. She pointed to the stack of towels, indicating for Keladry to help her carry them to the closet. "Anyway, I have to pick out a dress for tonight. I haven't been to the Griffin's Nest; I'm not sure how 'dressed up' I should be."

Keladry picked up the stack and followed Lalasa out of the small room, trying to keep up with the shorter woman's surprisingly fast strides. They deposited the surplus towels in the closet hallway. Then, the clothing was put away. After all the chores were done, Keladry remained with Lalasa, keeping her company the latter of the day. She didn't let the other woman out of her sight for more than three minutes.

Lalasa never knew that Kel could annoy her. But a lot of things seemed to be going against her expectations and assumptions. This happened to be one of them.

"Your pager," Lalasa lazily pointed to Keladry's wrist. "Someone's paging you, dear." Please. Please, make her go away. Just for today. I'm not spiteful towards her… I just want her to give me some breathing space. She acts like I have a terminal disease that's going to kill me any second!

The other girl read the message. It came from Joren, telling her to meet him, Cleon, and Neal at Faleron's place, only a couple of minutes' drive from Daine's. She wondered why Faleron insisted on living on his own instead of boarding along with Lalasa and Roald. But then again, Faleron was a particular person.

She looked up at Lalasa's expectant face. Her hand moved to rub the back of her neck nervously, uncomfortable at the watchful eyes. "I have to see the guys." She forced a chuckle. "Can't leave 'em alone for a minute."

Lalasa nodded. "That's okay. I have to help Ms. Sarrasri go through some papers anyway after I'm done folding the laundry."

Keladry left, well aware that her friend was safe because there were several other people in the house with her. There was no reason to panic, no reason to fear. And yet, a cold lead weight of dread settled at the bottom of her stomach. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that the guys had yet to report to her about last night's stakeout. Was that why they wanted her to see them?

A driver from behind yelled at her. Her eyes widened. The light had turned green. Keladry pressed her foot down on the accelerator, reaching the speed limit faster in order to make up for the few seconds she'd zoned out. The driver from behind sped up and passed her, throwing her a nasty glance before overtaking her.

She made mental note of the car's license plate. It was one thing to pass another car while going over the speed limit (and thereby an infraction of the rules of the road) but it was an entirely different thing to do this to Keladry when she was not in a mood to deal with annoyances in a civil manner.

Civil? Oh, at this moment, the word was not in her vocabulary. More than likely, one phone call and the poor sap would find his nice convertible in the city impound. Authority was good.

A few minutes later, she pulled into the resident parking lot of Faleron's apartment building. She nearly stepped on a paper cup when she put her foot out of the car. Cursing silently, she opened the door wider so she could step around it. This resulted in her door hitting the parked hover car beside her—a brand new hover car.

She wished she had a hover car. Everyone did. But even if she had, when would she have time to drive it? And she already possessed a perfectly functioning motorcycle (well, it would be once Joren was done playing Dr. Frankenstein with it). Her thoughts were flying every which way, often in directions she'd never taken before.

It's the stress, she realized. It's always the stress. Maybe I need another vacation.

She strolled, well actually she stalked, through the rotating doors in front of the lobby, curtly nodded to the man at the desk, and stopped in front of the wall with the list of residents and a button besides each name.

She eventually spotted 'King' and pressed the button. "Hey, it's me."

There was a bit of static before she received a reply. "Good morning to you, too, Officer. I'll tell the other fellows that you're here. Come on up."

She stepped back and pivoted on her foot, ready to turn and stride over to the elevator. Before her eyes left the wall of residents, she noticed something else. A sticker resembling dice was placed on the Faleron's nameplate. The corner of her eyes crinkled, having felt it was a pleasant little thing to see in the midst of her stressful state.

When Keladry arrived at Faleron's door, she could hear her friends' presence.

"Why don't you come over here and I can tell you where to stick it!"

"Oh, shut your pie-hole!"

"Oh yeah? —Wait… shut my what?"

"Just shut up! Give me the Easy-Cheez, damn it!"

There was a light scuffle. And then the unmistakable thump of a body colliding with the floor. Keladry rolled her eyes and rang the doorbell. Someone laughed from the other side, most likely Faleron, and the door slid open.

Keladry's eyebrows lifted almost imperceptibly when she came face to face with her stoic partner. Joren moved aside to admit her entrance. All the while, his eyes burned into her. It was like being watched by a thousand security cameras all at once, and yet, it was like she was alone in a spotlight with no one else there.

She hated it when he stared.

"Would you two stop that?" Faleron scolded Neal and Cleon. He was seated on the couch, holding a plate of sugar cookies he'd probably just bought from the local grocery store's bakery. He scooted over so Keladry could sit. Joren perched on the armrest of the couch, his arms folded across his chest.

After wrenching free the tall cylindrical can of cheese, Cleon whooped in triumph and managed to crawl towards Faleron's feet. He attempted to move farther, but dead weight on the lower half of his body allowed him to get as far as to rest the back of his head on the toes of Faleron's shoes. Neal was still sprawled over the redhead's legs, reeling from the last wrestling pin.

Cleon popped the cap on the can and pressed the nozzle, sending a long string of cheese into his mouth. His facial expression transformed into that of someone sated. After basking in the delectability of his snack, he reached out a hand above himself, toward Faleron. The former thief handed him a sugar cookie. Then he nudged his friend's head from where it rested on his feet so Cleon would move.

"Excuse me, but can we get down to business?" Keladry spoke. "Tell me how things went last night. I couldn't get anything out of Lalasa. She said it was too silly to mention." She fixed Neal, who was at eye level when Cleon and Joren were not, with a steely glare. "What exactly was so silly?"

Neal chuckled nervously. "It wasn't as bad as you think."

"The two nitwits ruined it. Our potential killer escaped."

Keladry turned so she could face Joren. "He showed up, did he? What else?"

Joren went detail by detail all the strange occurrences of last night's stake out. Keladry couldn't believe their luck. It was as if someone had kindly decided to curse the lot of them so that they always had the most difficult tasks. A few seconds after Joren had finished his recount of the night, she idly wondered what she would have done different had she been there.

It probably wouldn't have become any different. Joren wouldn't have told her that he was there either, like he did to Neal and Cleon. She glared at him. Things could go a lot smoother if he cooperated with the rest of them. But then again, this was Joren.

"Okay… I'll stay with Lalasa the rest of the day, but who's going to tag along when she and Roald go out tonight—and how can we do it undetected?"

The answer didn't need to be said. They all inwardly cringed.

~~

Roald was on Cloud Nine. Here he was, about to get seated in a great restaurant that served superb food, with a beautiful girl that loved him (dear God, where had she gotten that dress? Was that even legal to look that stunning?); all he could do was grin like a happy little idiot. He normally didn't grin but the times definitely called for such an expression of joy.

"Where would you like to sit, Monsieur?" the maitre d' asked.

Lalasa leant toward the mustached man and whispered to him. Roald cast her a curious look. She merely went up on her tiptoes and pecked him on the cheek. Her silk scarf tickled his neck. They waited for only two more minutes before being led away by a waiter. Normally, whenever Roald went to any restaurant and he didn't want to use his parent's reputation and status to get him in quickly, he often had to wait for half an hour or more.

If he were President, the idea would be the first thing on his agenda: solving the waiting line problem. Perhaps next time he saw Jonathan Conté, he ought to mention it. Maybe Thayet would think it worth talking about. He certainly saw it fit to fight for.

I can't believe I just thought that. Was that what he got for spending time with Cleon and Faleron? The two often impressed upon Roald a bit of quirkiness that the politician's son fought to repress daily. Not that it was a bad thing. It actually made him smile.

"Copper for your thoughts?" Lalasa asked, squeezing his arm affectionately.

"Oh, it's nothing," he replied as they were led to their table over-looking the manmade lake.

Further back in the restaurant (the kitchen to be exact) a young man grumpily donned a white uniform, complete with apron and a nametag that read Pierre-- much to Keladry's amusement. He glared at his other companions, dressed as waiters and a waitress. Neal shook his head.

"If I'd known that all you were going to do was make me stay back here, I wouldn't have agreed to come and help."

"Oh, it's not like that at all," Keladry protested. "You're our... base of operations, right?" She addressed the last part to Joren. When he didn't respond, she elbowed him. "Right?"

"Yeah. Sure. Get ready to take care of any civilians when Noll shows up."

Neal grumbled to himself. He glanced over his shoulder where the Griffin's Nest staff waited for their new volunteer assistant from the DJPF. They had eagerly taken to the idea of having an first class officer at their disposal. Revenge for traffic tickets, some had whispered.

Cleon snuck a peek through the round little window on the swinging doors leading out to the main seating room of the restaurant. "I kind of wish the jerk had shown up during the day so we didn't have to follow Lalasa around like this."

"I wish Flyn had just taken her into witness protection. Why the hell do we have to watch her?" Joren intoned. He started doing up the bowtie of his uniform. Whether he acknowledged it or not, the attire felt good on him. It felt natural, and normal.

"Captain Whiteford couldn't do that!" Keladry protested. "The media would be all over Ms. Sarrasri because Lalasa works for her. And then the media will discover that Lalasa is Ozorne's daughter and then the mess would only get bigger."

Joren rolled his eyes. "Mindelan, I think you're mistaking me for someone who cares."

"Alright, so we find where Roald and Lalasa are sitting and just hover around without them spotting us?" Cleon asked. He continued to stare out the kitchen door window.

Keladry reached up to straighten his shirt. "Yes. And please try to act like a waiter. The manager is not so happy that we decided to come in here and do this."

"Have you seen the guy that's with him? Scary!"

Neal frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I think he's an assistant or something, but I swear, the guy doesn't look like he's in the restaurant business." Jokingly, he added. "Maybe he's the guy we're looking for. I never did get a chance to see his picture. Anyone here have it with them?"

The others exchanged seriously worried glances.

"No. We left that stuff back at the station because we couldn't hide it with us here. All we have are some handcuffs and our usual standard issue weapons," Keladry replied. He'd meant it as a joke, but everyone seemed to take the second meaning harshly.

He held up his hands. "Hey now, that's kind of ridiculous. This guy has a mustache. And he's got this dirty blonde hair! I thought Noll's hair was short and black."

"There are such things as wigs, Cleon," she sighed. She shrugged her shoulders now. "So, what's the plan now? Anyone feel like going to see him?"

Neal immediately raised his hand. "I volunteer Kel!"

The corner of her mouth twitched. "What?"

Cleon and Joren successively raised their hands. Neal happily pointed to his fellow voters. "So it's settled! Kel, go find the guy and see if he fits the description. I'll stay back here seeing how many flies I can stick in soups, and the other guys will screw up orders while they spy on Lalasa."

Joren checked his cufflinks. "Whatever. As long as the job gets done."

"Hey, it's only one tiny thing. Kel can handle it!" Cleon beamed.

Et tu,, Brute? She thought to herself, silently replacing the name with Cleon's. But it didn't matter. It would take all of five seconds to see the man and be back, close to her friend in case danger lurked around the corner. She set her shoulders rigid and lifted her chin an inch higher. They wanted her to do something because they were too lazy and slug-like to do it? Fine with her.

"I'll be back," she told them. A little voice inside her head commented how Terminator-like that line had sounded, but it was too late to take it back now. The other three men watched her as she shoved her way through the swinging kitchen door and disappear around a corner. Cleon opened his mouth to say something.

"Don't, Kennan. Whatever it is... don't." Joren warned him. He gestured for Neal to go join the cooking staff. The older officer sighed in defeat and did as he was told. When Joren's back was turned, Neal made a less than respectable hand gesture to him and sparked the muffled giggles of some women chopping vegetables. Cleon grinned as well, but Joren practically took Cleon by the ear and dragged him through the kitchen door.

Where is the manager? Keladry wondered as she walked around various tables and dodged other waiters, waitresses, and bus boys. She stopped completely when her only path was blocked by a party of middle aged business man making small talk as they were seated at their table.

"Excuse me, Miss? May we have a few menus?" one of the men asked. He had a gold cap on one of his teeth that shined when he smiled at her.

She forced a polite smile. "I'll send some out immediately."

She continued to walk past them. Finding a waiter whom she didn't know, she told him to send the menus out and asked him where the manager was. The young man directed her to the front of the restaurant again, to his office. She thanked him and moved on.

The manager was talking to a few men and women as they entered the door. He nodded and laughed at some light joke. Keladry put on her best face (no smile, but uplifted eyebrows and half-lidded eyes that made her appear as if she were listening to someone's troubles with sympathy) and approached him. The maitre 'd led the diners to their table.

"I hate to bother you again, Monsieur," she began. He still hadn't turned around. "Monsieur?"

"Quite alright, young lady," he answered. This time, he did turn around. His long thin nose and pointy chin reminded Kel of her uncle from her mother's side. He had the height and facial structure for it. But she inwardly shuddered at the thought of being related to the manager. He seemed all business and no heart, though he made an excellent actor to convince people otherwise.

Actor. Yes, he could very well lie through his teeth and get an Oscar, she thought.

"Did you want something?"

She snapped out of her semi-trance. "Oh! Yes, sorry about that. Um, is it possible for me to have a few words with your assistant manager."

The man made a mock-hissing noise. "I can never find him when we have so many people in the Nest at a given time."

"Oh, I see. Well, do you mind if I ask you some questions pertaining to his background?"

He frowned. "Is there something wrong, Officer? I'd hate to think that Joseph did something wrong. Ah, I know. Too many traffic tickets, yes? Three fourths of my employees are up to their ears in tickets." He laughed. "I ought to suspend all their paychecks until they attend traffic school weekly."

Keladry chuckled, not because she wanted to, but because that was what he expected from her. "It's nothing like that. Have you known... Joseph... for long?"

"No, not at all. I just hired him recently. May I ask why?"

She debated with herself on whether or not she should tell him. It couldn't hurt. And besides, perhaps he could further help her and the boys apprehend Noll as well as keep Lalasa safe. She took a deep breath and leaned toward the man. "My partners and I have reason to believe that this Joseph character is a wanted criminal. I need to see him with my own eyes before I confirm anything, but it would be much appreciated if you could tell me anything at all."

An expression of horror covered the manager's features. He smoothed back his already gelled and slick black hair. "That would explain so much! He always acted so... strange. I didn't want to say anything. One moment, he'd be talking perfect in perfect French, the next he is swearing like a common lowlife!"

"I see..."

"Of course I'll help you if I can. I'm just sorry that I don't have any background information for you that I'm sure he hadn't forged."

She weighed her options. "Why don't you try to find his resumé and I'll see if I can track him down in the restaurant, alright?"

"Yes, yes. I'll do that. Thank you so much, Officer. It's people like you that allow me to sleep peacefully at night."

She couldn't have asked for a falser act. But maybe it was sincere. Maybe the manager's true nature was sickeningly sleazy and guileful. Whatever it was, she had to deal with other things at that moment. Finding Noll, if he was here...

Elsewhere, Roald sipped from his glass of water. He glanced at his watch. Then he looked up at Lalasa sitting across from him. She was gazing out onto the little manmade pond that reflected the moonlight from overhead. Her half-lidded eyes and flecks of light from the candle on her tanned skin reminded him of an oil painting. Her hand was supporting her dainty chin, and a lock of dark hair strayed to her face. Without even realizing what he was doing, he reached over and tucked it behind her ear.

Lalasa flinched, a startled look in her eyes... like awakened from a daydream. The moment she realized it was him, her eyes softened and she touched his hand that touched her face. She was about to speak, but he put a finger to her lips and wordlessly gestured for her to continue staring out at the sky. She looked like a goddess, beautiful and contemplative. Her eyes surveyed the shadowed trees and dark night in front of her. The ripples in the water cleared so it became a looking glass with which Roald could see himself and his lady.

Exquisite.

"Roald?" she began, her voice like a sigh on the breeze.

Men spend their entire lives searching for heaven on earth. Jealousy would stir and it would ravage me if it knew that I had it right here.

"Yes?"

She removed his hand from her face and gently laid it on the table. Her head tilted slightly to one side like she studying a sculpture. "Don't you get bored with all this silence?"

"No. It feels like time stands still, and I can float in this frame of time for eternity."

A blush colored her cheeks. Though of their small circle of friends he was the quietest, when he did speak, he spoke volumes with one sentence. Not all the time, but just at the right moments. She laughed and covered his hand with hers. "You should have been a poet's son, not a politician's. If you ever followed in your father's footsteps, I'd bet you'd spend all your waking time in your office dreaming and writing poetry." She pouted playfully.

"I consider doing that every day."

She drummed her fingers on the back of his hand. "So why don't you? Honestly, it couldn't hurt for you to take action."

"Excuse me?" he frowned, nonplussed.

"Actions speak louder than words," she told him like a teacher-- complete with a lilt in her voice that was a spoof of an intelligent and cultured voice. "Instead of talking about doing it, just do it."

He smirked. "I was not aware that you liked the Nike motto so much."

"I do. 'Just do it.' Yes I'm very fond of the idea," she agreed. She reached for her purse and opened it, searching for her appointment book. "I have the right mind to get you started on something similar to that."

He pulled his hand away. "What?"

She looked up. Why would he react that way? "I don't want you playing chauffeur for the rest of your life. You deserve better. You're talented Roald."

Discomfort settled over him like a blanket full of ants. He wanted to throw it off, but he was glued to his seat, unable to stand or shift position. He finally shrugged. "What if I prefer the life of a chauffeur to a poet? Or anything of higher status for that matter?"

She chuckled. "The way you're talking, it's like you want to be a bum for all your life." She rose off her chair a few inches to lean forward and grasp his chin. "Listen to the quality of vocabulary that your mouth spews out. It's educated and refined. It reeks of status that you should claim." Before he could continue, she caught herself. "But by yourself, and not any help from your parents."

"Lalasa, I like working for Ms. Sarrasri the way I am right now. I'm paid decently enough. I have clothes on my back and a roof over my head. I'm happy." He peered at her. "Lalasa, are you getting bored with my choice of lifestyle."

She shrugged. The Carthakian spoke in begrudging tones. "You can't fault me for being ambitious for you."

He sat back in his chair and sipped his water because there was nothing he could say.

Cleon watched them from at the edge of the smoking section outside. He bitterly held back coughing in the smoke. It wouldn't look good in front of the restaurant's patrons either if he told them off about the cancers and diseases it caused. He served them their food and retreated to a shadow nearer to Lalasa and Roald's table.

"New guy! Cover table three, would you?" another waiter called. 0

Cleon's gaze remained transfixed on his friends.

"Redhead! Table three!"

Cleon cringed. "Sorry." He strode toward table three located near the door leading inside the Griffin's Nest. He hoped no one had noticed. If Joren or Keladry found out about his near-blunder, they would definitely be angry.

Roald looked distractedly through the groups of people outside with him and Lalasa. He was expecting to see Cleon of all people, though he had no reason why. Redheads weren't that rare. But it came to mind so naturally for him. And Cleon's hair wasn't all that red anymore! These days, it appeared browner than he ever remembered. Perhaps it was never that coppery to begin with.

"I think he knows that we're here," Cleon whispered to Joren as he leaned inside the restaurant. Joren glared at him like the younger officer were to blame.

Joren served an elderly couple the strawberry cheesecake that they ordered for desert. After, he d used the pretense of smoothing out invisible wrinkles in his sleeves and jacket to stand next to the window looking outside. Cleon leaned inside the door more, watching the other man for any sort of command.

"Er, do you think he does?"

Joren snorted. "If he does, he's doubting himself. Have you seen Mindelan?"

"Nope."

"That was nearly twenty minutes ago," Joren growled. He nodded his head toward the front of the restaurant. "Go find her. Then check with Queenscove."

The sharpshooter did as he was told. He was genuinely worried. Where was Keladry? What if Noll had found her before she found him? Not that Keladry would need the rescuing, but he fancied the idea of being the hero. The last time he took it upon himself to be a hero, he almost hadn't succeeded.

Scanra. Faleron. The execution.

Meanwhile, Lalasa stood up. "I'm going to the washroom. Be right back."

She walked stately inside, asking directions from a bus boy. He directed her toward the front of the restaurant and to the left. She thanked him and went on her way, trying to sort out her thoughts.

The evening was supposed to be relaxing and cheering her up from an otherwise boring week. Well, the night before had been anything but boring-- but she meant boring with Roald. He drove the Council members around all day while they caught up on business while she stayed at home and was worked at both secretary's and maid's tasks.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts, she bumped into a tall broad shouldered man dressed like one of the Griffin's Nest staff. She gasped. "Excuse me! I wasn't watching where I was going."

"It's okay, Miss Isran."

She stared at him. His crooked nose and beady eyes seemed so familiar. She instinctively backed away, wondering if anyone was around the front of the restaurant to hear if she screamed.

"I don't know you," she said shakily, and moved past him toward the bathroom. She disappeared from sight.

"Oh, but I do," Keladry muttered under her breath as she approached the man. "I know it's not my break sir, but I desperately have to use the bathroom. I hope you won't look on that badly."

He didn't even look at her. He simply scowled a 'whatever' and retreated around the front desk and to the manager's office, though no one was allowed in there without the manager-- not even the assistant manager. Keladry narrowed her eyes at him and hurried into the bathroom.

She glided along the wall, making sure Lalasa was in a stall before she entered. Crouching down silently, she saw a pair of familiar feet at the farthest end. Otherwise, the place was empty. Kel entered the closest stall, grateful that nothing in the door hinges squeaked. She got up on the seat, so no one could spot her feet from below.

Lalasa came out of her stall and washed her hands at the sink. She lingered after, though, staring at her reflection like she had something on her mind that haunted her. Keladry hoped she didn't see her through the crack in the door. Standing on a toilet seat was not as easy as it looked. With the dress shoes she had to wear for her uniform, it was nearly impossible.

Another employee of the Griffin's Nest entered, carrying a broom. She smiled politely at Lalasa before gasping.

"I forgot the dustpan!" She leant her broom against the immaculate white tile wall and hurried out. Just outside the bathroom, Keladry could hear the girl squeak.

"That took an awfully long time. It will come out of your salary," the man who had bumped into Lalasa said.

"But sir, I just went there to sweep--"

"You little liar! You asked me but five minutes ago to take a break... oh whatever! Just get out of here."

The girl sounded terrified. "But sir--"

"GO!"

She squealed in horror and ran away, afraid for her paycheck. Keladry grinned in spite of herself. The man had been too preoccupied to notice that she and the other girl were not the same. He must have not seen the sweeper enter the bathroom.

Lalasa sighed. She dragged herself to the comfortable sofa in the corner and plopped down on it. She shouldn't keep Roald waiting, but she didn't want to go back out there. It felt strange, having a disagreement like that with Roald. They normally agreed in everything, mostly because neither held opinions with so deep a faith.

Keladry wanted to go out and comfort her friend for whatever ailed her, but she was rather anticipating her counterattack against the man outside. He had to be coming in after Lalasa. It was so obvious. Now she just had to figure out how she was to jump out from a stall, from on top of a toilet seat that she was slipping off of.

Darn dress shoes. The clunky heels were too smooth on bottom to do much more than make Keladry half an inch taller and make her slip.

Outside, Neal hoped his vegetable oil smudged kitchen clothes wouldn't be seen by anyone. He understood at what grievances the manager allowed the DJPF to be here undercover, and a member of the kitchen staff out in the open looking so messy was definitely not good for business. He wouldn't have to be out there at all if Cleon hadn't slipped in a spill in the kitchen and knocked his head against the floor.

The sharpshooter was out cold. Such a stroke of bad luck. Neal had wanted to page Joren. That was a problem. They'd removed their normal wrist pagers because they attracted too much attention. The pagers they now wore, clipped to their belts... well, Neal didn't know the number to Joren's. Looking for Joren was out of question since that would mean going out into the main part of the restaurant and getting yelled at by the whole staff (who would have thrown him back in the kitchen, even if dynamite were strapped to his chest).

He called Faleron, who was just about finished with dinner at Daine's place and on his way to meet Fianola. Faleron could take Cleon home, where the younger officer would later wake up with a splitting headache and a rather nasty bump on the back of his head. Faleron had asked if Neal wanted Fianola with him, since the Rider could probably help.

Keladry didn't want the Rider's name on this case. She was being uncharacteristically stubborn, but it made sense. Even if Fianola had done nothing but drive Cleon home, any sort of connection like that would have had the Rider's name plastered all over the media's view of it.

Back to the present, Neal steadied himself. He spotted a tall stocky man standing outside the women's restroom. He set his shoulders back and raised his chin, ready to cause some mischief.

"Sir! There's a problem in the kitchen!"

The man whirled around, a snarl escaping from his lips. "What?"

"I tried to find the manager, but he's not in his office. One of the waiters slipped and fell. He hit his head and he's out cold."

"Haven't you ever heard of smelling salts, you damn fool?" the man spat. Neal's eyebrows rose. What sort of refined assistant manager to a nice little place like has language like this?

Neal grinned. "Sir, we can't find them. Please, if you would show us what to do. You are the second in command, after all."

The man looked like he wanted to wring Neal's neck. Neal grinned even wider.

~~

Roald poked at his food with his fork. When Lalasa came into view, he sat up straighter and tried to make it look like he'd eaten more than he really had. Somehow, he'd lost his appetite. Lalasa bit her lip nervously as she sat.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"Just some creepy guy hanging around the bathroom. Ought to have reported the jerk."

He nodded. "We'll do it later. Um, 'Lasa, we need to talk about something."

She frowned, knowing where exactly this might lead to. But at that moment, the wind picked up and blew her scarf from her neck. It fluttered over the rail and onto the lawn beside the pond. Roald instinctively stood up, his iron chair legs scraping against the cement floor. He moved toward the rail and lifted one leg to swing it over.

"Don't worry. I'll get it."

Lalasa stood up. Roald looked so nice that night. Now he was going to get his clothing all dirty for some stupid scarf she got off a clearance rack (not that he needed to know where she bought it). "Just leave it! It's not impor--"

He jumped over the side, falling in a crouch on the ground that was four feet below the floor of the restaurant patio. A minor jolt traveled up his left ankle and up his calf, but he found nothing was injured. Roald squinted in the darkness, trying to see the light colored scarf wherever it may be.

Leaves rustled to the left of him. A pause. They rustled again. He couldn't understand it. What was there? He swiftly whirled around, half expecting some monster from the depths of hell to leap out at him. Nothing. Only the dark night. And the shadows cast from overhead. He could see a family of ducks nestled into a nest at the side of the manmade pond. They looked peaceful enough for him to believe nothing disturbed the Grilffin's Nest. He took deep breaths to slow his racing heart.

The wind chilled him as it touched his cheek and made his skin prickle. He removed a strand of hair from his eyes and knelt down. Groping on the ground around him, his fingertips eventually grazed the smooth silk of Lalasa's white scarf. It smelt of strawberries and cream. Yes, that was what she smelt like that wonderful night.

If only he could concentrate on that instead of the nagging suggestions she'd given to him about finding a better job. He had to avoid that one for a while.

"I found it!" he called up to her. Reaching up, he handed the scarf to her through the railing bars. Roald gripped the bars to haul himself back up and over. Lalasa kept a hand on his arm to steady his wavering balance as he climbed over. They returned to their table and resumed their meal.

Roald glanced over the rail arbitrarily, looking at random things.

"Why do you keep glancing over the side?" Lalasa asked.

He set down his fork and spoon, obviously bothered. "I heard something down there. It couldn't have been the wind. At the time, nothing else was moving."

From a few feet away, Keladry eavesdropped while taking the order of two men and a woman near the patio door. She had followed Lalasa out of the bathroom earlier, disappointed that Noll hadn't revealed himself back then.

At this rate, it should probably be safe to believe that he won't show up tonight. I mean, it could be next week for goodness sake!

"Something seemed out of place down there," Roald whispered.

"You're being paranoid," Lalasa observed.

Maybe he has a real reason to be, Kel thought. She walked off the patio, squeezing through a space between a hedge and the wall of the building. The trio she'd taken orders from wouldn't get served after all, but there were more important matters to deal with.

In no time, she found the set of tiny steps that went down from the grass knoll from which the restaurant patio sat atop. She took off her jacket and hooked the collar of it over a branch of a short tree. Then she undid her cuff buttons and rolled up her sleeves. There was no sense in thoroughly soiling a good shirt.

She stealthily crept forward.

This was it. Although in the back of her mind, she found no reason for Urfan Noll to be creeping around the bushes at night under the supports and rafter of the restartant patio above... this was it! She did not spend the whole evening as a badly treated waitress in a restaurant to walk away with no arrested villain. She reached into the waist of her pants and felt for the gun braced there. She drew it out, just in case she'd have need for it.

The rustling of leaves. She hoped no strip of moonlight caused the metal on her gun to glint. Her thumb slid back to cock the gun, but as she did...

"OOF!" the air rushed out of her lungs as someone tackled her from behind. She cursed.

The person pinning her eased off some of his weight. There was a tiny light, from a mini-flashlight shining in her eyes. Keladry groggily craned her neck upwards from the ground to see. She squinted. Whoever it was had tackled her hard. She no doubt had a bruise on her hip from how her tackler had dug his knee in while straddling her.

"Mindelan?" a disappointed but familiar voice groaned.

Her eyes widened, even with the sharpness of the light shining directly into her eyes. "Stone?"

Joren sat back on his haunches, letting Keladry sit up. He turned off the flashlight, muttering to himself that it was the second night in a row that he'd tackled the wrong person. It wasn't his fault that Cleon had made it look so incriminating-- climbing through the window like he was. And just a moment ago, he'd heard a gun click. He knew that sound like a musician knew the notes of the scale.

"What are you doing down here?" she furiously whispered.

"I saw the manager come down here! Down the steps along the side," he hissed back. He got to his feet and walked out from under the supports, though in the shadows. No one from above would see him unless they leaned purposely over the rail.

Keladry shook her head and followed him. "You must have been seeing things. The manager is in his office trying to find information on his assistant manager. Seems the guy was just hired or something weird like that. It might be Noll going under the name of Joseph."

The cold metal of a gun barrel pressed against the middle of her spine. She closed her eyes and shuddered. Joren noticed and froze as well.

~~

After much prodding and moving around of Cleon on the floor of the kitchen, the man-- the assistant manager-- decided to bring the unconscious redhead to the manager's office to lie down.

"Pick him up and follow me," the man said to Neal, indicating Cleon with a flick of his hand. Neal, was still confident that he'd prevented anything that the man had planned on doing near the ladies' restroom. He did as he was told and picked Cleon up. With much difficulty, he managed to hoist the younger officer over his shoulder and slowly walked after the assistant manager.

Neal grunted as he set Cleon down in a chair facing the manager's desk. He looked around. The walls were covered with newspaper food critics' reviews. The comments and praises were mediocre, nothing more or less than ordinary. That wasn't so bad.

Then he spotted it.

An article was framed on the wall, and right beside it, another framed picture of two men. The article read about Urfan Noll's arrest, following Ozorne Tasikhe's double-crossing. A picture of Urfan Noll by profile was printed next to the article. This same convict proudly smiled in the next framed picture, with whom which he was standing next to the manager of the Griffin's Nest.

"Jacque is a good brother," the assistant manager said, noticing Neal's gaze. He walked over to the door and locked it. The sound of the lock bolt sliding into place echoed within Neal's head. The man proceeded to turn around, a gun already in his hand when Neal had one tucked into brace around his lower left calf.

The DJPF officer gulped, bravely stepping in between his unconscious friend and his newly unmasked enemy. "Urfan Noll."

The man frowned. He tapped his chin with his free hand. "Well, not really. I was born Joseph Noll. My mother remarried and had my half brother, Jacque. The manager of this restaurant. I had opted to change my whole name altogether since the memories of my father made it hard to bear his name. Yulphaniel Cartier. The first one is some sort of regional name from my mother's mother. It became shortened to Urfan for some reason beyond me. Cartier was my stepfather. "

Noll chuckled to himself as he sat down in his brother's chair behind the desk. The gun remained trained on Neal. His confidence was obvious in the careless way he chatted with Neal. "Though we didn't get along at first, we soon became inseparable. When it finally came down to it, I made Jacque stay behind while I went off to become one of Ozorne's best hands. It would be easier if one of us held down a normal looking job so if I ever needed a place to hide... it wouldn't be so obvious to think that I'd be with an estranged half brother."

Neal could feel a bead of sweat on the back of his neck slowly make its way down his backbone. He wanted to kick himself. Hard. This was the reason why he was not a spy. This was the reason why the last cases he'd been working were measly drug busts and traffic guard to school children.

He wasn't cut out for this first class sort of work anymore.

~~

Faleron parked his car and entered the restaurant. He didn't bother with his tie, which just rested on his shoulders, around his messy collar and wrinkled shirt. His sleeves were rolled up and his hat was still tilted back on his head. At least his slacks had no creases or wrinkles. He wondered where Cleon and Neal were. Neal had said he was going to try and wait for him at the front of the restaurant.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a fairly long line of a dozen people waiting to be seated. The maitre 'd was missing, obviously. He ambled to the front of the line. The young man at front was casually leaning against the podium where the reservation book sat. Strangely, he had unruly shining silver hair and aqua marine eyes.

"How long have you been waiting?" Faleron asked him.

"Oh, for about twenty minutes now. I ought to give the manager a piece of my mind, but I think he'll come around soon enough." Here, the man smirked. His companions, four or five fairly young men in suits, also grinned.

The former thief nodded. He spotted the short hall that led to the manager's office. It didn't sound like such a bad idea after all.

"Hmm..." he strode toward the office door keeping close to the wall. There were no silhouettes in the snowy glass, so he assumed though the lights were on that no one was inside. He tested the door knob. Locked. He wished he'd had his tools. His hand absently slipped into his pants pocket-- once upon a time, he'd always kept his tools in his pocket...

His hand closed around a familiar bundle, tied with a tiny cord. He withdrew his hand from his pocket and stared at a tool kit. It wasn't his tool kit, but it was very similar to his.

How in the world... ? It didn't matter. He had it, and he needed it. Faleron had promised himself that he would stop stealing and all those illegal things, but considering the circumstances, this had to be an exception.

He knelt down and started picking the lock. It took all of three seconds, and the lock popped open. He stood up and swung open the door. His mind slipped into that place where he thought of all possibilities before he had time to act, and he chastised himself for not getting a weapon and for not being a hundred percent sure that no one was in the room. For as it turned out, there was someone in the room.

His lucky stars were shining that night. It was Cleon, tied to a chair and obviously out cold. He walked over to his best friend, slapping his cheek lightly.

"Hey, wake up already! Kennan!"

The redhead moaned in pain. He tossed his head to the left, away from Faleron's hand.

"Wake up, Cleon. It's me, Fal."

Cleon's eyelids fluttered open. He focused his bleary eyes on the slightly older man in front of him. The familiar hat, the piercing eyes, the intelligent and prominent nose. Yup. It was Faleron.

"What happened to you?"

He winced. "I don't know, but I need some aspirin. My head hurts. "

His friend walked behind him, looking at the back of his head. Faleron clucked his tongue. "You've got one hell of a bump all right. What do you remember?"

"Eh? I was in the kitchen talking to Neal and... " Here he blushed. "I slipped in something and hit the floor."

Faleron untied him. The knots were poorly done. The captor most likely believe that Cleon would be out for a while and had deemed sufficient knots in the cords were unnecessary. "Come on. Let's find the others."

~~

"Can we just postpone this job conversation?" Roald interrupted Lalasa. She gawked at him. He'd never interrupted her before, nor had she ever seen him so bothered by her. His index finger lazily circled the rim of his glass of water. His eyes were fixed on his plate.

She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms under her breasts. She sighed. "Fine."

He bit his lip and withdrew his hand from the glass. On second thought, he reached forward and took the glass. He sipped the water, not really thinking about his thirst at all. It was so silent between them. He didn't mind it, but Lalasa always did. She often tried not to be bothered by it, but he knew it did.

"What the... Cleon? Faleron?" he gasped.

The Three Stooges reunite, Lalasa thought to herself. She rested her chin on the palm of her hand again, yawning. The whole mood for the night was ruined now. She might as well let Roald go off to play with his friends like a little boy who didn't want to grow up and get a good job. Better than a chauffeur anyway.

Cleon was leaning on Faleron for support. His head still ached and he was dizzy. Roald noticed the tux which the redhead wore. "Cleon... You work here?"

"Er... part time. Just needed some extra cash and..." he started stuttering.

"His paycheck doesn't come until next week," Faleron lied for his friend. He shifted Cleon's arm over his shoulder so that the other man didn't slide down to the ground like jelly. Before Roald could ask anymore questions, Faleron laughed. "Forgive us, Roald. We have to... find someone. Have a nice night!"

"Nighty, 'Lasa!" Cleon waved at the seated Carthakian woman. She waved back, less enthusiastic.

The two comrades stumbled away like they were leaving a pub while drunk and plastered. Cleon muttered to his friend that there were steps beyond the hedges on the edge of the patio. They led down the incline of ground to the place below the patio and next to the pond.

"Why wouldn't they be in the restaurant still?"

"There's no where else all that private around the restaurant besides the office and maybe the men's room. But I doubt they're taking a piss in there," Cleon muttered, his voice slurred a little. He put the heel of his hand to his forehead and groaned. "Damn my head hurts. Here, Faleron, take one of my guns. I can't shoot like this."

Faleron gulped. "Oh no. You're the sharpshooter. Your aim is much better than mine."

"Not while my head's spinning!" his comrade protested. He reached under his pants leg and retrieved a pistol. Faleron took it grudgingly. Cleon then removed another gun tucked into the waistband of his pants. "You've got good reaction time anyhow. You'll manage, Fal."

Faleron muttered. "Yeah right."

They hobbled down the narrow steps. When they reached the bottom, they slid under the narrow space under the patio. Cleon stood on his own now, leaning against the patio supports and sometimes on the rise of the knoll with which the patio was built on top of.

"I hear something over there," Faleron whispered.

Cleon nodded. He hobbled forward. He barely made out a figure standing so that the moonlight from the pond cast a silhouette of the man. Cleon took aim. He would just disarm him, not kill. Killing would be bad, very bad, his thoughts stated obviously. He squeezed the trigger.

"AH! What the hell!" Joren cried out, twisting to one side. The bullet had ripped his shoulder, and lodged itself in one of the patio's supports . He gritted his teeth and turned around. Keladry moved forward, ready to defend her partner if she had to. The gun jabbing her back pushed a little harder. She froze, but continued to rest one hand on Joren's shoulder.

The manager laughed. "Your aim is off, Urfan. You missed the fool's head."

Faleron had a burst of inspiration. He grabbed Cleon's hand, the one which held the gun, and pointed it in Jacque's direction. "Shoot him while he thinks you're Urfan!" he whispered fiercely into his friend's ear.

"Urfan?" Jacque called out hesitantly.

A second later it was done. Cleon's head had been so scrambled, he'd thought he'd heard two gunshots. That was certainly ridiculous. It must have echoed in his senses is all. He looked at his trembling hand.

And found that his aim had completely missed the restaurant manager. He frowned. "Fal... I..."

"It's okay, Cleon. You got him!"

The restaurant manager grabbed his injured thigh, howling in pain as he writhed on the ground. He dropped Keladry's gun, which she gladly retrieved and trained on him. Though Joren was wounded, he also helped out by turning on his flashlight again.

Cleon looked like a deer caught in headlights. He was looking around him, wondering where the second shooter was. He slumped down onto the side of the grassy knoll, his job done.

From above, Raold leaned over the rail. "Hey! Who's down there? Hello?" He called over his shoulder. "Help! Someone call the DJPF! Lalasa, see if you can call Kel."

Lalasa stomped her foot. "I can't believe our luck."

Her boyfriend turned to her. "What?"

"Kel told me not to expect to be able to contact her or the rest of the boys tonight. They're on some important bodyguard job or something."

Joren, Cleon, and Faleron all glared at Keladry. She shrugged helplessly, and nudged the injured restaurant manager with her toe as if to say, "It's all his fault! We wouldn't be here if it weren't for him!"

"Did someone call for help?" a familiar masculine voice asked.

All the officers below the patio wanted to scream bloody murder. They knew exactly who it was. Raoul Malorie, the famous Marshall.

"What the devil is going on down there?"

....And Captain Flyndon Whiteford.

"Strange how it seems we never get a night off," a new feminine voice added.

And that would be Buri, Keladry thought to herself. She closed her eyes and ruefully shook her head.

"Hold on, I'll climb down," Raoul offered.

Jacque Cartier moaned again. Joren moved to kick him, but Keladry shot him a dirty look. He stepped back, rolling his eyes. They waited until the burly Marshall had dropped down from the rail with another flashlight to speak.

"Hey-- whoa!" the older man grinned. "Look who we have here! Flyn!" he called up. "Your boys are down here, buddy!"

Keladry coughed, somewhat annoyed.

"And girl," he amended, casting her an apologetic smile. He crouched down with a pair of handcuffs at the manager's side. "We've got an injured man!"

Joren coughed.

"Oh, and an officer, too!" he added when he shined the light on the blonde officer with a blood gushing shoulder.

"Where the hell is Neal?" Keladry wondered aloud as Buri and Flyndon dropped down from the rail with larger flashlights. There was excited chatter above head as the staff of the Griffin's Nest tried to calm its guests.

Cleon snapped his fingers, getting up again. "That's it! Neal must have been the second shooter! No wonder I heard two shots. Noll must have been somewhere around here too, and that's why he ran off." He nodded, confident in his hypothesis. "That was the sound I heard behind me."

"Are you sure that wasn't just me?" Faleron asked. "I heard something, too, but I assumed that it was you."

"Well, either way... Urfan Noll is not here," Flyndon groused. He sighed. "Where is Queenscove?"

Lalasa shrieked. "You guys are down there?!"

Kel wanted the night to be over, desperately. Things had thus failed so far. They'd let Urfan Noll get away a second time and now Lalasa was alerted of their presence. Joren was injured, Cleon was dazed and hearing things, and she was just not in a good mood.

~~

Neal moaned. His eyelids fluttered open as he took in his surroundings.

He was in a passenger seat of a car, wrists bound with a tough rope that was cutting off his circulation. The back of his head hurt so much. Maybe it was a dream, and he was Cleon. That would make sense. Oh, no, it was coming back to him. The butt of a gun striking the back of his head hard. Yes, that's how he got knocked out.

He shifted off his side just a tiny bit, seeing how many cramped and aching muscles there were in his body.

"Don't move," a rugged voice threatened. One hand stayed on the steering wheel while the other held a gun that was easily pressed against Neal's left temple. Noll laughed, a deep haunting baritone.

"What the... Where are you taking me?"

Noll shrugged. "I heard a few gunshots outside. I guess my brother was screwing up. No wonder I was the one to make it into Ozorne's good graces and not him. So, you're my hostage, and I'm bailing town."

Neal shook his head. "You'd leave your own brother like that?"

"He's the screw-up, not me," Noll replied, no remorse at all in his voice. Neal was glad he'd never had a brother like him. All his brothers were law-abiding citizens who wouldn't hesitate to come to his aid. Too bad they weren't here now.

His captor started to whistle. "It's going to be tougher now, nailing Ozorne's kid. I'll just have to settle for a mail bomb or something. Hey, maybe I can take out a Council member while I'm at it, seeing how she works for one. Or maybe--"

He didn't have a chance to finish his sentence. All of a sudden, there was a gunshot, and the car jerked. Neal knew that sound. The tires had just been shot out. Noll dropped his gun on the floor of his car and was trying to steer. The car was out of control.

"What's going on! Who the fuck...!" he was pressing down furiously on the break, but it seemed that it was out, and the accelerator was sticking. Neal was bounced around the car as he knew the ripped rubber of the tires was giving way and that the metal rims were scraping against the street. The screech filled the air.

The car was over 40 miles per hour. Noll still couldn't get control of the vehicle. Neal wondered what would have happened if they'd been in a hover car and the power pack had just been shot up.

Now's not the time to wonder 'bout that! He yelled at himself.

"Oh shit, oh shit..." he chanted over again. He reached forward with his bound hands for the car door's lock. Moving around in such a way made him realize that his ankles were bound, too.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" his captor bellowed, grabbing Neal's wavy hair in his free hand. "If I'm going down, I'm taking you with me!"

"Shit!" Neal yelled, elbowing Noll as hard as he could. This caused the man to swerve off the road and through rows of barricades and bushes. When they'd hit the curb, Neal was thrown to the side of the car. His forehead collided with the window. He cursed again, and fumbled with the door lock and handle.

Noll made a move to grab him again with his free hand, but the bumpy ride made it nearly impossible. He stopped trying to grab for his hostage and tried to turn off the ignition, having become desperate. The key was stuck.

"No... no way..." he murmured.

"Ah!" Neal shoved open the door and threw himself out. Waves of pain went through his body as he hit the street and began rolling. Thank God it was one of the newly constructed streets that had yet for traffic to be let onto it. He tucked all his limbs in toward him as he rolled so the chance of him breaking a bone or twisting something out of place was less likely.

He eventually lost his inertia and stopped, breathing hard as his face tilted toward the black starless sky. You couldn't see stars in the city. But you could definitely see stars when your head was reeling. All the rapid motion was enough to make Neal sick, but he found the strength to sit up...

...Just in time to see Noll's car crash into the side of a bulldozer left there overnight by the construction company. The sudden burst of flames made the first class officer look away, shutting his eyes tight against the fire. He gritted his teeth in pain. The ropes had cut into his wrists and now he was bleeding there, too.

He managed to slip the ropes off now that they were slicked with his blood. He threw the rope somewhere over his shoulder. At that moment, he could care less about littering. He wanted to collapse back onto his back and just sleep, but he wanted to unbind his feet first.

When the task was done, another tiny burst of flame caught his attention. Noll's entire car was now on fire. Neal safely assumed Noll was burning with it, since he couldn't see the man anywhere, nor any sign that he'd been capable of jumping out. Well-- maybe Urfan Noll had survived. He could have jumped out of the car and still had the strength to run away, unlike Cleon who just wanted to lay down and breathe in the cold night air.

"Aww, screw it," he muttered hoarsely and plopped back onto his back, being careful not to bang his head on the pavement. A few pebbles and rocks dug into his back, but that didn't matter. He was alive. Well, mostly alive.

With that comforting thought, he contentedly passed out.

Unbeknownst to him, Noll was on his knees behind one of the newly constructed buildings but half a block away from where his car had crashed. No one was supposed to be around for miles. After all, it was just city construction.

"Yes, that's right. No one's here. No one can hear you scream," a young man with remarkable silver hair whispered to his ear.

Noll whimpered. He'd never heard the voice before. But he was in Tusaine. And being in Tusaine, he had the right to suspect exactly who this man was and what this man could do to him.

The strange man stood up to his full intimidating height. He wasn't stocky like Noll though. He was lean with the body of a Greek god. But no one could tell with the dark overcoat he wore. And no one paid attention to his body when all that was on their minds was his unique hair and aqua marine eyes.

"You have made the mistake of walking into my territory with cruel intentions," he spoke crisply to Noll. Noll could barely hear his voice now. He'd thrown himself out of the car, but as soon as he had, someone had roughly caught him and kicked him in the groin to make sure he'd be immobilized. Everything in his more than middle-aged body ached. There was no chance of defense against this group of men.

"I didn't know that this... this was your turf," he croaked.

The stranger frowned. "You say you didn't know?" He turned to one of his four companions. "Oh, Liam, my good man. I want to believe him, don't you?"

The young man, Liam, smirked. "Not really, Mr. Yukishiro."

"Hmm. Yes, me neither," the man laughed. His smile disappeared. A malicious grin replaced it. "Have him say something that will make me believe him. Something grand..."

Liam was happy to oblige. He kicked Noll hard in the stomach, causing the escaped convict to double over in pain. Then he kicked upward, catching the other man right under the chin. Noll's head snapped up. He fell onto his side, spitting up blood.

"Please! No more! I knew, okay? I just thought..." he gasped. "I thought that since you let Jacque carry on without interference that you wouldn't mind if I..."

"Wouldn't mind if you went after Lalasa Isran without my consent?" the silver-headed young man finished. He clucked his tongue. "Oh, but your brother Jacque only smuggled arms and did loans. He refused to dirty his hands with organized crime like pre-meditated murder." He chuckled and crouched down. Now he spoke in soft tones. "Even then, he always gave me a good percentage of his profits." The man sneered. "I'd never allow someone like you to be associated in my ring. Not even if your brother begged for you."

A man in a dark blue suit ran up, panting. Soot and dirt covered him.

"Sir!" He held up a jagged piece of metal with his leather gloved hand.

"And this would be a part of the dashboard?"

"The part that connects the steering wheel to the car actually," the new arrival breathed.

He regarded the metal thoughtfully. "You know what to do. Jam it into his throat the hard way and throw him into the blaze. I won't allow any evidence showing that I helped out the DJPF by catching one of their most wanted," he scoffed. "That would be ridiculous to the common public."

"Yes, sir!"

Liam took the metal from the other man and held it up high, ready to strike down. Noll screamed.

~~

"Neal, you're a hero!" Dom said to his God-brother. He paused. "Albeit, it was through sheer luck, but.. you're a hero!"

All the Riders and officers in the room hurrahed for the 25 year old man lying in the hospital bed. Keladry applauded, too. She was glad he'd gotten some credit for all his pains. Deep in her subconscious, she wished she was getting as much recognition, but that probably would have ended up annoying her after a day or two.

Joren rolled his eyes. He was in the second hospital bed, sitting up, with his legs over the side. He wasn't wearing a hospital gown, but the same clothes he'd been wearing the day before. His shirt was off and a large mass of white bandages were wrapped around his shoulder. A surgeon had overlooked the wound and picked out bits of shrapnel from the bullet. There was hardly any at all, and Joren was sewn up and treated before anything like infection hit him.

Cleon was sitting in a chair holding an icepack to the back of his head. He whistled innoncently until Faleron arrived at the room carrying his friend's can of Easy-Cheez. Cleon's face lit up as the processed cheese spread in a can was delivered to him. It was something around 1 AM. Flyn, Buri, and Raoul were dealing with Jacque Cartier while awaiting news from forensics about the crispy black corpse they found in the car wreckage.

They wrote up the report, saying that Jacque Cartier was harboring his brother, Urfan Noll and assisted him in his attempted murder. Knowing that his brother was caught, Noll fled the scene with Officer Nealan Queenscove as his hostage. The car had been rigged, the police assumed by Jacque (though Jacque denied it completely), and Neal was able to knock out Noll and throw himself out of the car before it crashed.

"I really don't remember anything," Neal confessed.

"That's alright. Everyone's safe and sound. The crooks are in jail. Lalasa is safe. Though she's mighty pissed," Dom trailed off nervously.

Kel shook her head. "Mostly at me. Don't worry Neal. She'll cool off in a couple of days."

"Says you," Lalasa said from the doorway. She glared at Keladry while she went over to sit on the side of Neal's bed and hug him. "My hero!"

Roald laughed as he entered the room. He handed Keladry and Cleon their pagers which he'd retrieved from their apartments. He didn't dare enter Joren's. And Dom had taken Neal's pager to him. The room broke out into chatter. Above it all, Lalasa was scolding everyone for keeping this secret from her.

Keladry was able to slip out among all the chaos. Patients and nurses passing by gave her strange looks, seeing as she just exited one of the loudest rooms on the floor. She tried to remain inconspicuous and hurried to the empty nurses' lounge to hide out so she could get some sleep. It was too late to go home without falling asleep on the way.

~~

The sun shone through the window blinds and onto Keladry's face. She wrinkled her nose and yawned as she stretched languidly out on the lounge sofa. Blinking open her eyes, she glanced at her pager. It read 9:16 AM. She'd been out for hours. Her neck had a cramp from the way she'd slept, but that was alright. She should go back to Neal's room and see how he was doing. Joren was being commanded against his will to stay overnight. Buri and Flyndon weren't having it any other way. She supposed the blonde would have snuck out by then.

After all, it was no secret that Joren had the habit of sneaking out. Especially out of hospitals, thought. Especially with bullet wounds.

She remembered the night before about how long Joren had spent threatening Cleon with painful methods of death for shooting him. The redhead had just hid behind Faleron and Keladry, hoping for sanctuary.

"Just wait until my shoulder heals, Kennan!"

Keladry sighed and sat up. A message on her pager was blinking. Once again, her volume was turned down. At the rate she was going, she'd never be able to tell if she was being paged. She checked the message. It was from her brother, Conal.

"Conal?" she said aloud. "Why would he page me?"

She stood up and made her way over to the lounge's phone. Plopping down on a cold armchair, she dialed a number to get out, and then the long distance number to her house back in her home town.

The phone ran but once before someone picked up.

"Kel?"

It was Conal.

"Hey, did you page me?" she asked, yawning.

"Yeah..."

She frowned. "Well, what for? Is something wrong? Something happen to Mom or Dad... or maybe the kids?" She referred to her younger siblings as the kids sometimes. They didn't act like her siblings most often time. They gathered under her older brother Anders, as if they were his instead of her father, Piers.

"No, nothing's wrong," he said, a hint of apprehension in his voice.

"Well why did you page me?"

He paused for ten whole seconds.

"Conal!"

"If I start, you can't interrupt."

She shook her head. "What?"

"Just say that if I start, you won't laugh or interrupt!"

What's this about? "Okay, okay. I won't laugh or interrupt."

"Alright then," Her older brother-- her least favorite brother as it was, cleared his throat. She waited on the edge of her seat, wondering if he was going to spill out his heart about some girl he'd just met... or maybe some big news about going to college instead of working in the meat factory! No. It was nothing like that.

"Happy birthday to you..."

Her heart started to melt. Was this really Conal?

"Happy birthday to you... Happy birthday, little sister... Happy birthday to you..."

She bit her lip. "Aw, Conal."

"Make a wish Kel."

I wish Conal stays this sweet forever. "Okay."

"Good. Don't expect anything big or fancy next year! You're lucky I remembered this year... and... and if you tell anyone, you'll be getting nothing but coal again for Christmas!" he added hastily.

Oh well. Wishes don't always come true, she laughed. "How thoughtful of you, Conal."

"Yeah, yeah. Well, you're 21. Legal drinking age. Hope you don't go overboard on that one."

"No one ever contested me over my legal age, Conal. I was an officer. First class Officers are on average 25 or older."

He groaned. "I should have been you then. I could have been 20 years old in a bar without no one disputing my age..."

"Sure..."

"Anyway, I remembered your birthday. Wish you all the best, squirt."

"Thanks Conal." She hung up and sat back in the plush chair. Now she could get back to sleep. Blissful sleep.

Five seconds later, an explosion rocked the hospital. Several other people shouted what she expected.

"YUKI!"

Author's note:

Sorry I haven't been around in so long. What with fanfiction.net being down, then school, then my sport, then trying to start piano again, then trying to overcome a end of the summer cold, THEN getting distracted by the national tragedy—I haven't been feeling my greatest. I get done with things I have to do around 10:30 at night. And THEN, I start my homework. Doesn't leave much room for writing, does it? But I'd never give this up. Writing is the only non-stressful thing I have.

With that being said, I'll try harder to get more time to myself. It's all about organization, people. Yup.

I think I told everyone who has read 'Thanks to You', the last part of my Unforgettable Amnesiac Quartet, that it is not the original ending I had. Thanks to You actually ends differently (albeit more tragically) but since I am first and foremost concerned for ICBW and other series I currently have, I will not finish and release the original ending. Maybe if I'm blessed with an early winter vacation, sure, I'll finish it. But not until then. All I can say is that the original ending has the feel of the movie 'The Perfect Storm'… but no. Not everyone dies, like in that movie. I said it just had that feel to it.

IMPORTANT!

Due to the rising numbers of viruses out there, I will be only reading and responding to emails with the titles ICBW, ALLO, FANFICTION.NET, and S. SERAFINE. I also will be unable to carry on a mailing list as I promised. I heard that fanfiction.net now has one for updates. Try to join.

Thanks again for staying with my stories. ESPECIALLY after the tremendously long wait... I can't tell you enough how much I appreciate readers and their feedback. I always knew that a great abundance of people read my works, but it wasn't until they all emailed me-- telling me to get my sorry behind back at the keyboard-- that I fully realized how... appreciated my writing was. Happy Holidays everyone. I hope you all get what you want. I already received more than I ever hoped.

Until next time!