Disclaimer: Don't own no one in the Arcadia universe. Only original characters are the ones you don't recognize from the show. Wish I own Kris Lemche, but ladies, hey, don't we all?

A/N: Aloha! Okay, yes... where the hell have I been? Well, Real Life sucks. The past few days, which turned to, what?, weeks?, has just been this one big wild ride. So now I'm suffering its consequences and feeling rather sick and exhausted. Which, I imagine, is the perfect mode for me to be in when it comes to writing! So I'm back! For a while... hopefully even longer because I'd rather be here in JoA fanfic land than sucky real life and all its complications beyond my control. Because we all like to be in control of complications... which is why we have fun creating them in JoA fanfic drama. I'm almost complete with Chapter Five, which I'm hoping I'll have up by Thursday. So until then, Enjoy this Chapter!

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CHAPTER FOUR

Home of Will Girardi

April 14, 2006 -- Friday

For what could be the third time within the last fifteen minutes, Will flicked the hallway lights on. The illumination flooded a fair amount of the house's second floor. His eyes scanned each of the bedroom doors before, once again, walking towards and opening each one. He started with his eldest son's old bedroom and noticing that it remained the same even after Kevin moved out to currently share an apartment with Barry "The Bear" Caldwell. Next, Will quietly gazed into his youngest son's room. A gentle smile appeared on his face as he looked upon Luke, who, despite growing up into a handsome young man, still slept like a newborn babe. From there, he made his way towards his little girl's room.

It was nearing the eleven o'clock hour and nearly an hour and a half ago since their guests had left. After bringing Joan home from Adam Rove's house, sleep was the last thing on anyone's mind. It had gotten late and all had decided that too much excitement had passed for any real discussion of the case to take place. After the detectives left -- with the exception of Agent Michaels, whose car was parked outside on patrol -- Helen suggested that the family should turn in early. That a good night's rest would help them see, and digest, things a lot more clearly. It took a while for everyone, especially Joan, to agree.

He gently opened the door, careful not to wake her up. His eyes regarded Joan, as she laid all nestled and snug within her bed. The peaceful look on her young face didn't betray a hint of the trouble that had found its way into her life. Which gave way for a bittersweet smile to appear on Will's face. He would rather have her safe, at least, in her dreams than not protected anywhere. Before he slowly shut the door from behind, Will stepped inside just to plant a tender kiss on his daughter's forehead.

Will started towards the master bedroom, but not before shutting off the hallway lights. He looked towards the door, and it was there that he saw his beautiful wife, Helen. She was sitting in their bed, waiting for him, though she had her head down in a thoughtful manner. He regarded Helen and upon hearing her soft whispers, Will realized with a start that she was praying. Much to his own surprise, he gave an angry and disgusted shake of his head.

Despite recognizing her actions, "What are you doing?"

Helen raised her head and returned the weary regard. She immediately recognized the hint of disbelief in her husband's voice. "Praying. Asking God to watch over my family. To watch over my daughter."

"Well, while you're at it," Will made his way towards her. Not hiding his sarcasm, nor his disregard, "Can you also ask God to, I don't know, strike the psychotic bastard dead? Do everyone He supposedly loves a favor and just remove scum like that off the face of this planet."

"Will..."

"I mean it, Helen. If God is supposed to be a 'father', why doesn't he do what I -- as well as all the other fathers that lost their daughters -- want to do to that piece of shit for a human being?"

"Sweetheart, I know you're angry..."

"Damn right I'm angry. No. Wait... I'm pissed off."

"... But you're taking it out on, what could be, mankind's biggest scapegoat." Helen reached over for Will, clasping his hand into her own. With a tenderness that easily melted his heart in seconds flat, "I'm not saying that you shouldn't blame God. Everyone does and it's a natural human reaction. But I think it's pointless right now to question, to be angry at, or even to blame Him. You'll just be wasting your energy when you could be focusing on other important things."

Will looked at his wife with a timid, yet soft humored grin. He sat himself on the bed right next to her. "Like gunning down the son of a bitch that's after our daughter?"

"Will..." Despite wanting to reprimand her husband, Helen couldn't help but smile at his lack of seriousness. She reached over, lightly kissing him on the forehead before sinking into his arms.

"Helen," He began, the humor replaced by a more somber tone. "Seriously, if that psycho even lays a finger on her or if there's as much as a hair missing from our baby's head ..."

"Maybe..." Helen held Will a bit closer to her, a somewhat eager hopefulness in her voice. "As awful as it may sound, maybe Joan really is just a decoy. That this Slayer guy is merely distracting everyone here on the other side of the continent and all the while he's still in California!"

Will gently kissed his wife on her forehead, "Honey, you have no idea how much I wish that were the case... but we can't take any chances on mere maybes. There are just things about this case that makes Joan just as easy a target. Decoy or not, our daughter unfortunately falls under majority of the victims' MOs."

The last line piqued Helen's interest, causing her to raise her head to lock eyes with Will. "Like?"

His eyes replied just as fearful as his voice, "There were pictures, Helen... The police had taken pictures of.... of those girls. Those poor girls' bodies and what that monster had done to them. And I had seen our little girl's face on each of those bodies... And I'm not saying that just because our daughter's life is being threatened, but because of those girls themselves."

"What do you mean?"

"Alive, each of those girls could have passed for Joan. From the hair to age... the height to the built of the body... there was just something about each of those young women that reminded me of Joan." Will turned away from his wife, refusing to let her see his strong facade crumble.

Helen lightly caressed Will's face, silently begging him to look at her. God only knows just how much she adores this man before her. She knew that this was slowly killing him inside, and Helen desperately wanted to ease his pain. If only he could just look at her, look into her eyes and see that he wouldn't go through this alone. That he needn't be strong for her, that they could both share the burden and be strong together. Not just for their own sake's, but for their children's... for Joan's...

However, Will merely faced Helen and gave her a feigned smile. "I'm going to check up on the kids again."

He started to get up, but was pulled back by Helen's desperate, even fearful, grasp. "Will..."

To her surprise, which caused a deeper fear within, Will's voice softly pleaded, "I have to check on them. Please..."

Thus a heavy silence fell upon the couple. Helen slowly removed her hand and gave a reluctant nod. Will gave her a sad, yet grateful smile as he got up to leave their bedroom. In their own way, with Helen starting back in prayer and Will patrolling their home, they began to reflect on the impending storm that could either strengthen their family... or forever tear them apart.

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She wondered just how long he was going to stay out there. Alone. In his car. At night. With a serial killer on the loose.

Joan Girardi closed the shades once more, after having checked Special Agent Michaels out for the second time. She glanced over at the grandfather clock a few paces away from where she sat in the living room, noting that it was a few strokes away from midnight. Joan knew that it was a risk being awake, away from her bed, and the haven that was her bedroom. However, as light a slumber she had earlier found herself in, Joan had awoken in a curious state. Not just an inquiry, but she had gotten this strange sensation calling to her from downstairs. Thus she had quietly snuck out of bed, out of her room, down towards the living room and facing the world outside of her home.

She pulled the shades back again to look upon Michaels's rental. It was parked right across the street from her house, discreetly a car's length away from the glaring street lights. Expecting to see his relaxed form situated in the front seat, Joan, however, was startled to find that the black Porsche was empty. A concerned, somewhat fearful thought crept into her mind as she began to wonder what happened to the agent--

A thump on the front porch startled Joan from her frantic thoughts. She gazed over towards the side of the house and allowed a breath of relief to pass through her lips. Realizing that she wasn't going to hit the sheets anytime soon, Joan gently hugged her blanket and made her way towards the front door.

Upon quietly opening the door, the young woman noticed that Michaels's back was facing her while his attention remained on the world outside the boundaries of the Girardi's front yard. She was about to make her presence known, not wanting to startle the young field agent. However...

"It's almost midnight, Joan."

Before sitting next to Michaels, she flicked the porch light on. He glanced over his shoulder, tossing her a small smile before turning his gaze towards the neighborhood once more. "What're you doing outside of the house?" He asked her, his hands fiddling with themselves and his gaze locked straight ahead.

"Was about to ask you the same thing. Except I would've substituted car instead of house."

Michaels gave an amused glance Joan's way, as she sat herself right next to him. With a slight shrug, he replied. "You have a better view of the neighborhood right here. Did you know that?"

"Oh yeah." Joan bantered along with him. "That's why my father specifically bought this house. Because the Real Estate Agent assured him that this porch provided the best view of the entire neighborhood. Period." Despite the situation, she softly laughed. With a timid smile, "So seriously, what gives?"

"About?"

"This. When my dad explained that he was going to have our house under tight security, I hadn't figured on you taking the first watch."

To Joan's surprise, a tiny, sheepish smile appeared on Michaels's lips, as he slightly glanced up before turning towards her. Sincerity was in his voice as he explained, "Your mother asked if I could help watch over you and your family... and who am I to say 'No'?"

Joan glanced down, quietly smiling though quickly she began to scold herself . Refusing to acknowledge a blush and a flattery, she took a moment before facing Michaels again. Despite the dramatic situation, Joan could feel an inkling of a crush being born. Which was ridiculous on her part because not only did she have a boyfriend, an amazing one at that, but also a few hours ago she began questioning her breakup with her former boyfriend! Joan knew it would be unwise on her end to develop a crush on not just a way older man, but someone that was merely here doing a job. Though, Joan had to admit, there was something about Michaels that she not only felt attracted to, but he also had a trusting, comforting presence about him. In fact, the last time she experienced a crush like this was nearly a few years ago when--

"It's not that bad." Michaels spoke up, causing Joan to break her train of thought. "Besides," He glanced down his side and at his cellphone. "At around one, another officer will be here to take my place."

"Right," Joan tossed Michaels a coy grin, "Because you cops like to be well rested to catch the bad guys."

"Sleep is a human necessity, Joan. I'm not Superman."

This caused a laugh to escape Joan's lips. Realizing that she could very well wake her parents, she stifled her giggles a bit before softly glaring and giving Michaels a nudge. Michaels merely tossed her an amused grin, one in which Joan not only found slightly familiar, but thought it was quite adorable. As Michaels turned his gaze back onto the neighborhood, Joan followed suite and a comfortable silence fell upon them.

She broke the quiet, though, as a somber thought came to mind. "But I bet that with a job like yours, sleep is the last thing on your mind, huh?"

Keeping his attention straight ahead, "There are... there are things about my job that are difficult to explain. To even comprehend." With that last part, Michaels had cast Joan a sad smile before once more turning his gaze forward.

Joan sadly nodded, "I know... My father's like that. At home, he rarely talks about what happens at work unless he feels that it's appropriate. He likes to keep that, I suppose ugly, side of his life away from us. Mom and us children. Lately, my dad hardly talks about his job at all... Unless..." Joan softly laughed, causing Michaels to meet eyes with her. He had tilted his head in a questioning manner, which caused her to continue with a shy grin. "Unless there's like a happy ending, y'know? If a little kid's missing but then found alive just hours later? Or if there was a mad car accident, but everyone survived. Dad doesn't mind talking about that part of the job..."

She gazed away from him, taking a reflective pause before adding with a tiny forced laugh, "So hopefully this situation will have a happy ending..."

Michaels regarded Joan with a look that caused a slight chill through her. Almost as if he was looking straight into instead of at her. The agent startled her by reaching for her hand and giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. With a smile that was kind, "I'll personally see to that, Joan." His shoulder gently nudged hers and with a wink, he added, "Just like I'll personally see to it that you go back upstairs and get some sleep."

"But," Joan began, giving him a small stubborn shake of her head. "I'm not tired."

"Joan..." Michaels started to give her the same reprimanding look that her own parents -- and strangely enough even God -- would toss in her direction.

"Why don't I sit with you until you get relieved of duty? I-I could go inside, make some hot chocolate? Or-or... if you prefer, I could make you coffee! Well, actually... I, uh... ha... I don't exactly know how to make coffee but..." Joan sighed, taking note that he wasn't buying her excuses to stick around. "Michaels, c'mon... I can't sleep, okay? I'm not at all--" A yawn suddenly escaped her lips, which caused the agent to raise his eyebrow at her.

"Not at all... what, Joan?"

With a meek reply, "Tired?" She sighed once more, "Is there nothing I can do that could convince you to let me stay up with you? Just-- just until you leave."

Michaels gave a gentle nudge as he shook his head, "Nope. It would be cruel of me to bargain with you, Joan."

Joan blinked as his words washed her with a sense of deja vu. She regarded Michaels and was once more thrown off by the particular way he was looking at her. Unsure, even feeling as if this was just merely the effects of today's news and lack of sleep, "Wha- what did you--"

His inquisitive, even sincerely puzzled, "Joan?" reply caused her to bite back her questioning. She shook her head, "Never mind. Maybe I am tired afterall..."

Joan stretched a bit, unintentionally yawning before standing up and gazing down at Michaels, who remained sitting and his attention back on the neighborhood. A thought came to her as Joan suddenly, and gently, removed her blanket and placed it on Michaels's shoulders. As soon as the fabric covered over him, a surprised, yet somewhat amused smile appeared on his face. He gazed up at Joan, who was now hugging herself yet remained beaming warmly at him.

"Joan--" He began, but was immediately cut off.

She gave a small nod, "Good night, Agent Michaels." Joan reached for the door and before slipping back inside, she shyly added, "And thank you."

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His eyes remained on Joan Girardi until she gently slipped back inside. Agent Michaels watched with a tender smile on his face. To keep appearance, and figuring that the young woman will no doubt watch him even for a little bit before actually going back to her room, Michaels turned his gaze back to the night. A few minutes passed before the porch light blacked out and he heard her footsteps lightly ascending the stairs.

Thus his cue. With her blanket gently wrapped around him, Michaels quietly reached into the darkness of the Girardi's porch for a box. A cardboard box that held, if anything, contents that he couldn't allow Joan to uncover...

At least for tonight.

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Home of Will Girardi

April 15, 2006 -- Saturday

To Luke Girardi's credit, he actually had a normal seventeen year old trait: Reluctantly pulling off a mundane chore, that is getting the newspaper, at a certain insane hour, that is seven o'clock in the morning.

It wasn't actually a chore, but it had become an accustomed Saturday morning duty that would have normally fallen onto his older brother's lap had Kevin, the former newspaper man turned college student, not moved out. And seven o'clock in the morning wasn't exactly an insane hour... but even he himself wouldn't stoop to waking up so early on a Saturday.

"Just because I strive on academia, does not make me any less of a sleep deprived, hormonal teenager." Luke muttered to no one in particular as he descended down the stairs and towards the front door.

Luke, to this day, was still currently trying to figure out how he had been roped into getting up before everyone else just to retrieve the Saturday's edition of the Arcadia Herald. If anything, he still cursed his misfortune of getting up early that fateful Saturday morning just to wait on the front porch for Friedman. Friedman, his best friend (God only knows why because that was a mystery he himself was also figuring out), had to drop off the discs for a shared project that they were still working on. And because Friedman, unfortunately, had to leave town early that weekend, Luke had to not just get up early to obtain his half of the project, but had the misfortune to be caught sneaking back inside the house by the parental units.

It had started off as a punishment towards two Saturday mornings, but eventually grew into a weekly routine for the young man. Much to his dismay... "Note to self, persuade mom and dad into getting us a dog."

He yawned before rubbing his weary eyes once more. Luke reached for the door and opened it, just as another yawn escaped his lips. The young man took one step outside, glanced down...

"Dad!!!"

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