A/N: Hey guys - really sorry about the delay in chapter production, I've been sick, and had lots and lots of homework (school sucks sometimes. Actually, all the time. :P) and I've had to do other stuff. Anyway here's chapter 13, but sadly its not the end. I think I'm going to warp it up NEXT chapter. lol. The words just keep coming, don't blame me. :D. Okay well continue with your lovely reviews they're super funnerific.

GoddessofSnark - hahaha. Yaaay! Is there like a competition? lmao. Hehe - I'm a rival! Thanks for reviewing.

And indeed to all you other lovely people who are reviewing - so fun! Thaaaaaanks! Do continue! Any suggestions are totally welcome! (Had to throw the 'totally' in there...haha.)

Chapter 13: Gray

"You shouldn't have come," Jordan said, not looking at Garret, who frowned.

"Why not?"

She looked at him incredulously. "Because three coffins are far more expensive for our friends than one."

"Ah. I knew I should have given Nigel that raise when he asked for it."

Jordan smiled for his benefit, and they all heard Ayres growl. He stepped forward and slapped Garret's hand from Jordan's shoulder.

"Break it up," he said, and breathed deeply, swallowing and regaining his cool. "Now all I need to know is, who is sleeping with whom?"

Woody raised an eyebrow, but the other two did not react, instead their eyes locked. Ayres watched. "Because I can't tell. Normally I can. Why can't I tell here?" He looked around, waiting for an answer. When none came he grinned.

"Now now, you three, remember."

Woody and Garret's eyes flicked automatically down to the pocket Ayres had patted lightly, and Jordan remembered what he had said just before they had some into this room. We'll see how it all pans out. They were gambling with their lives, here.

Jordan lifted her head, and both Garret and Woody were heartened to see a hint of fire in them. He head tilted to one side slightly, a gesture they both recognised as the 'go to hell' stance she took, mostly with the two of them.

"What do you want to hear?" she asked. "What do you want us to say? Stop prancing around and do what you have to do. So will we."

She sounded sure of herself, so confident, and she knew it. That was the key here, this guy had some sort of superiority complex. She had spent some of the hours they had been cooped up in the small room trying to figure him out. He wanted things to go his way, but not just that, he wanted to control everything, to use them as dolls, make them cry, make them scream, laugh, whatever. Same as she used to do as a kid with her toys. So the trick was to do a Toy Story and come alive.

"Well?"

Now the tables had turned and they were waiting for an answer from him, which he didn't like. So he did what he always did when things weren't going his way. He laughed.

"Fool," he said. "Now sit."

She looked around and noticed there were four chairs, armchairs just like the ones in the room they had waited in.

"You got some kind of foot problem?" she asked. "You're obsessed with chairs! Go to hell."

"Maybe in a few years," he said. "I'll follow you down."

"You're going to do it anyway, why not now?" he voice was raised and she had forgotten there were two other people in the room. "I'm sick of the game, sick of waiting! Just finish it!"

Ayres looked at her, no hint of a laugh in his face. "But don't you remember what I told you? You're not…" he stopped and looked at the other two. "Well, you remember."

She glared at him, and threw herself into one of the couches.

"Okay you two," Ayres said wearily, sitting on one himself. They exchanged a glance and lowered themselves reluctantly into the remaining chairs, sending Jordan furtive glances which she completely ignored. A part of her was furious, wanting to kill the two of them for showing up, for being so good at their jobs. Now they would all die, or as good as. The knew that the fate Ayres offered her was far worse than death.

"This is the part that is going to be kind of improvised," Ayres said, looking at each of them in turn. "I was ironing out the kinks when macho-boy here nearly bashed my door down. Were you a little angry or…?" he trailed off, and giggled, for that was the only word for it in Garret's mind, at the look of loathing the detective was serving him with.

"So what's the deal here?" Garret asked slowly. "I'm guessing death, a little pain, maybe some more death…"

"Everybody wants to be a comedian," Ayres muttered. "But yes, spot on. Now here's what I've got." He spread his hands wide and leaned forward. "She begs for you, and maybe we can take the death out of that little equation of yours."

The three looked at him blankly and he feigned a sigh, and looked straight at Jordan.

"Tell me why you don't want them to die. If you persuade me, maybe I'll let them go. Provided they let me go, of course."

She continued to stare at him. There was no way she was going to give him the satisfaction, she was well aware that if he got his way they would die anyway. The other two were staring at her, waiting. They couldn't understand why she would remain silent.

"How about this," she said quietly. "How about you let them go, and keep me?"

"Gee what a great idea. Why didn't I think of that. Because you know I just had you for three days straight already, and frankly you got on my nerves after a while."

"Do what you like to me. I can pretend to be Melissa. You can have your revenge all over again."

"Jordan," Garret said warningly. He was worried Ayres would take her up on the offer.

"Don't fret my dear chief," he said. "Why have one when I can have three? Many times over? Why don't you tell them what I have planned?"

She opened her mouth to say something along the lines of 'screw you' but stopped abruptly. She needed to take charge, needed to digress from the 'rebellious teenager' act that she had been playing, needed to relinquish his control. She frowned, and smiled sweetly.

"Why not?" She turned to face her friends, glad that Ayres could not see her face.

"He plans to kill you."

"And?"

She turned back to him. She couldn't say it, wouldn't. "I don't exactly recall the details," she said.

He winked. "Sure you don't." He shrugged. "Oh well. No matter. I can tell them." He turned to them. "I'm going to make her suffer."

Jordan couldn't help herself. "How original?" she muttered, causing both Garret and Woody to send her sharp looks.

Ayres ignored her. "But I think we should talk first. You guys…" he nodded to the detective and the ME. "…still think she's dead. Well, obviously not think, as in intellectually think, but feel. The whole 'she's dead' thing is still in your psyche." He paused, and looked at Woody. "You," he said. "Hold up your hand."

Woody frowned and did so, and they all watched it tremble. It wasn't fear, because he was not afraid.

"See?" Ayres said quietly. "Shock. So I'm going to calm you down. We're going to talk. Like a…" he paused, searching for the right word. "Family." He plucked a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it. "Anyone for pizza?"

Garret and Woody were totally out of their depth, but Jordan thought she was beginning to understand this man. It was the family reference that clinched it for her. He had killed his wife, and if he was telling the truth, his daughter had been murdered by her. Jordan didn't know if he was lying, but was leaning towards believing him. Why go to all these lengths if he had murdered her himself? Because he certainly showed no remorse about killing his wife. She looked up, and shook her head. I have to override him, she thought. Be an overbearing wife.

"I think we should have Chinese," she said.

"Why?" he asked, taken aback. Garret opened his mouth but Jordan shook her head slightly and answered.

"We've had pizza for the last three nights now. Chinese is a change."

"I really think we should have pizza," Dear, was the unspoken word that hung between them, but Ayres did not consciously acknowledge it. He just felt it, felt this was his wife, sister, whatever.

"No, I want Chinese." She turned to the other two. "How about you?"

Garret frowned, trying to understand what she was doing, buyt couldn't quite grasp it. She obviously knew more than they did, so he decided to take her lead.

"Yeah Chinese sounds good, actually." He turned to Woody.

"I'm for that."

"Three to one," she said, looking back at him. He sighed then nodded.

"Alright."

He called them, and ordered the dinner. Jordan grinned inwardly, they could win this war yet.

"So, Jeremy," she said. "I think you should tell them why this is happening. Justify yourself to them."

"Why don't you?"

"Because I think you can tell them from your heart. You were there."

He narrowed his eyes, and nodded, turning to Garret. "You and your girlfriend here took the case of Melissa and Sally Ayres. My wife and daughter. You pinned me to my wife's murder. My prints were all over the murder weapon, there was blood all over me, yada yada. From your point of view, it was a pretty open and shut case. To me, it was injustice."

"But you killed her," Woody interjected.

"Yes," he said, turning his gray eyes onto the detective. "But I did not kill my Sally."

"Then who did?"

"She did," he said. "My wife did. That's why I murdered her."

"Why would your wife…"

"Mental illness," Jordan said stiffly. "Turns the best mothers into murderers, apparently."

Garret sent her an inquiring look but she was avoiding his gaze. Ayres also glanced sharply at her, but she ignored him.

"Anyway, I'm doing the whole psychopath revenge thing. It's actually better than it's cracked up to be! In all the books and television shows, they always get caught. Good wins over evil." He leaned forward, staring into Jordan's eyes. The other two could have been piles of bird crap for all the attention he was paying them. They simply weren't there. "You'll learn soon," he whispered. "That there is no good. There is no evil. There is just gray. Just a gray mass of neutrality. Just a big mush of nothing. No one ever wins a war. You will not win this one, and neither will I. Nothing will bring my Sally back, nothing can turn the clock back. Nothing can ever erase this experience from your memory, as much as you try to brush it off as 'all in a day's work'. No one wins, we all lose."

He sat back, and the spell was broken. His words were ringing in her ears, he was right, he was so right, there was no point, there was nothing here, nothing to live for, we'd get out of this, but we'd die anyway, so what's the point? What's our reward for a lifetime of pain and agony?

Then she saw the faces of her friends, loathing written on one half, worry for her on the other, and she remembered. Remembered why she had to get them all out of this. Remembered why she got up out of bed every morning, got dressed and drove to work. Remembered why she lived.

She turned back to Ayres, the fire that had been quenched for the past day rekindled, and she smiled. It was a cold smile, a smile that sent the shivers down his back and set the mind racing. She was back.