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YAY! I love reviewers! And yes, punk freak, hyper bunny, I will write faster now, but for the past two days ff.net wouldn't let me view the site! Aaargh… very weird. But let me see here. Story, story… where was I going with this? Ah! Okay. And note to Kathleen O'Grady- thank you! I've been a bit flustered lately because I found sometimes I had better writing skills than published adults… tsk tsk… well anyway, lol, sorry, hyper… okay. Story. Right. Here we go.

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IF YOU ARE A GUY I WOULDN'T SUGGEST READING THIS.

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"I came as quick as I-- Oh no…" Alex's voice trailed off as she surveyed the wreckage of Dylan's high rise apartment. Furniture was broken, the phone was left hanging off the hook, things were pushed off the counter, it was a mess. There were even bullet holes splattered against the walls haphazardly.

Natalie, was sitting on one of the swivel chairs at the counter, the only one that wasn't knocked over. Her head was in her hands and her shallow breathing suggested that she was crying. Natalie raised her head and looked over at Alex. Her eyes were red and her nose was running freely.

"She must have put up some fight, huh? Both of them? Dylan… gone?"

Alex picked up a matching red diner chair and put in place next to Natalie's. She rubbed her back soothingly, and Natalie's head fell over to rest on Alex's shoulder. Alex hugged her tight, and soon her hushed sobs burst through her brave persona.

"We'll… find her. They won't kill her. No they won't. She'll be alright…" she said mostly to comfort herself through the sobs.

"C'mon. Let's get to work."

***

Alex and Natalie called in LAPD reinforcements, but the two of them led the investigation. Alex had asked to question Shaemus before he was released, but he had already been let out and they didn't where he went off to.

Looking around desperately for evidence, Alex almost missed a little bit of fresh blood on the knocked over couch. The photographers had already been through, so the investigators could look around carefully. Alex collected a bit of the blood for a DNA sample. There was almost no discernible evidence along the highway, and witnesses would be hard if not impossible to find. So Dylan's house was their only lead.

Sighing, Alex reassured herself that maybe the blood belonged to one of the thugs and not Leah. Then they'd have some start. She popped the sample in a test tube and gave it to Natalie.

"Could you have that analyzed, Nat?" The blonde nodded and headed out of the apartment into the high rise's parking lot, where a CSI van was parked. She knocked four times on the door and said her name loudly.

"Natalie Cook, Private Investigator."

She waited, and then a mousy looking man opened the door suspiciously so that only his nose and eyes could be seen through the crack. He studied her for a minute in a geeky kind of way, but Natalie was just staring off into space, used to this creepy CSI man.

"Are you alone?"

"Yes."

"Are you a spy?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," she said, beginning to get agitated.

"Really sure?"

"YES. If I really were a spy, why would I tell you anyway?!"

The mousy man, who was just in the process of opening the door, froze, then slammed it solidly in her face.

"Hey! Thanks a lot!" Natalie screeched a little too girlishly. She could feel a couple eyes on her from the rest of the parking lot. She looked around as if nothing was wrong, then focused back in on the van, not caring that she was staring at her own reflection because of the tinted windows. She pointed a finger warningly and shook it in what she supposed was his face, if he was even watching.

"Hey, my friend just got abducted by a bunch of Irish thugs, and if you don't open this damn car door I'm going to kick it until the whole van falls over!" She stopped for breath, her shoulders heaving. "and if you think this gives you the right to--" The door opened and the mousy man peeked his nose through to get another word in.

"I seriously doubt you could--" But his voice was cut off by a shrill shriek, and he pulled the door open haphazardly as he rolled out of the vehicle, clutching his nose and rubbing it disturbingly. Natalie knew she shouldn't have smiled at this, but after she replayed shutting the door on his nose, she just smiled anyway. She would do anything for her friends.

***

"Here you go, Alex." Natalie, hyper and smiling again, bounced around on her feet a little and then handed Alex the tube. She gave her a clipboard. "And here's the comparison of blood types and DNA! As you can see, this is Dylan's blood! Dylan came back here!" She bounced around some more, just for the heck of it.

"But what- wait. Hmmm…" and she started to think pretty hard, but Natalie's bouncing was pushing her to the limit. Alex eyed her as if she were mad. She didn't see why there was a reason to be excessively happy, even if she'd just won two billion dollars, no tax included. "Why are you so happy?"

"Oh! This is why!" Hopping on one foot with endless energy, she waved a plastic bag in front of Alex's face. Alex snatched it edgily, wondering what could make someone so happy, because she knew 2 billion dollars wouldn't fit in a Ziploc. But Natalie looked about to explode. "Go ahead! Look at it!"

And Alex did. "A TSQ tank 4589 sniper dart?"

"YES!!!"

"Uh… what does that--- oh. OH." And it seemed for a minute that all expression had been wiped off of Alex's face. Then, barely letting herself hope, she put out a question for Natalie, just to make sure her assumption was right.

"Don't worry, it took me a long time, too."

Alex's eyes narrowed and she looked to Natalie, who'd stopped hopping. "So that means tranquilizer was used…?"

"YES! You got it! They weren't out for a kill!"

"But the bullets in the wall?"

"Look!" she pulled Alex over to the wall, which Alex hadn't had the time to check. "A lead investigator pointed me to these!"

And Alex looked. Natalie was right, there was something different. If you looked carefully, you could see a couple drips of red liquid on some of them. Squibs. And some others on the ceiling and counter, blanks. So they weren't out to kill…

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"I don't get it. I thought you wanted to kill me."

"I do want to kill you. Obviously."

"Oh. Then why… haven't you?"

Shaemus looked up from where he was jotting things down on a yellow notepad. His eyes narrowed and he threw the notepad aside, onto a nearby desk. Then he sighed and stood, advancing on where Dylan was sitting, tied to a sturdy industrial chair. He sat himself on her lap and started tracing Dylan's jaw with his gun. She squirmed and tried to wriggle her hands free for the thousandth time.

"You sound as if you want me to kill you." he said almost absently mindedly, but still his eyes digging into Dylan's.

"It'd put me out of my misery, that's for sure." she spit out at him.

"Right. Well, it's your choice." He holstered his gun in his back pocket and sighed. He looked away as if searching for something else to amuse him, directing his attention to the dark wooden walls, the large crates and boxes surrounding them.

"Why are you even keeping me here if you aren't going to kill me?! It sounds like a shitty plan to me."

"Now," he grabbed her chin and stared into her eyes. "Don't you insult my evil plans, Helen… you know it'll all come out in the end." and he kissed her roughly and deeply, slamming her head back and making her cry out in anguish and defeat. Finally he pulled back, pushed himself off her lap as if it was a saddle, then wiped away the small tears that that had streamed down her face.

"You piece of shit." she spit at him, but he didn't bother to step away, or wipe the spit from his bare feet. "You are a cowardly piece -- of -- shit."

"Now Helen," he looked at her with genuine sarcasm. "If you hadn't almost killed ME I wouldn't have tied you up. You do understand that, don't you? Besides… I'm not done with you yet."

"I'm sure." she lunged at him, as far as she could with being tied to a chair, and he recoiled, but still looked unaffected.

"Well, it's almost two AM. Would you rather sleep on the floor or in the chair?" he started emptying out his pockets onto the side table that brushed against Dylan's right arm.

"Bastard."

"Well, I'm giving you a choice here. But either way, I'll have to take my own precautions…" he withdrew his gun, Dylan's lighter, and a switchblade, which he flicked open.

"Fucking bastard."

He looked at her, but that was what she wanted. She painfully threw her body against the table, smashing the table and sending the things on top sprawling. Shaemus lunged at her with his switchblade, but she kicked at it in an attempt to stop it from slashing at her. She pushed away from the way, he hands skidding painfully as the chair slide across the smooth floor so that the end of the switchblade landed in Dylan's bound, but outstretched hands. She swiped at her bonds and rolled off of the chair, switchblade ready in her hand.

Shaemus gave her a look that silently acknowledged that he'd underestimated her, then he brought a Swiss Army knife out from another cargo pocket. He grasped it firmly in his fist and then bared his teeth, charging.

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More soon!