Author's Note: Alright. This chapter is shorter than the last two, but longer than most of the ones I've written so far. After the last chapter what with its murder and mayhem, I felt like I wanted to write a really character driven chapter, and I certainly hoped I succeeded. I got this out a bit later than I wanted, but sooner than the deadline I'd set for myself. Seems like I was running right down the middle of the road with this one. ;)

Anyway, author thanks at the end, and I hope you enjoy.

Lawley was waiting outside Rainey's door. As she left, he fell in step with her, and as she'd guessed, the explanations immediately started flowing. "They were just doing their job –"

"If that's how they do their job, then they need to be fired."

Lawley just shook his head. He understood that she had a right to be upset, but the woman was impossible. "Have you ever noticed just how much you interrupt people?"

"If you have something to say to me, say it. I don't have time for idle chit-chat and pussyfooting around." Carly stopped in the middle of the hallway and crossed her arms, waiting for him to speak. "Well?" Her foot started to tap. She hated the amused look on his face.

"You were right, okay? That's all I wanted to say. I totally agree with everything I overheard you say to the detectives. You would be fully within your rights as a doctor to press charges, and I'll give you whatever aid you need if you decide to pursue that course of action."

For a long minute Carly just stared at him, weighing his words and trying to decide whether or not he was making the offer to get on her good side. Not that he had any proof that she had a good side. "Why are you being nice to me?" she finally asked, glad no one else was in the hallway.

He shrugged. "Other than the fact that you have me intrigued?" When she frowned, he hastened to add, "You're very passionate about your duties to those under your care. You've put in more hours on Rainey than Dr. Wright ever did. And while yes, I do need to eventually talk to him in order to firm up the details of my case, that's not why I'm being nice to you. I like you, although a good reason seems to be escaping me at the moment."

His own admission of what she already knew – that she was behaving like a harpy – made her reconsider her first impression of him. It also made her lips quirk up into a tiny smile before she could stop them.

"Was that a smile?" Lawley couldn't help but press his advantage while he had it.

"No." She started walking again, annoyed at herself for letting her mirth show in front of someone who was going to pester her about it.

"I think you're lying, doctor."

"And why would I do that?" Go away.

"Because I think I make you comfortable."

"What?!" Carly paused in the hallway again, this time totally taken by surprise. "Why would you think a thing like that?" Why would he when she put so much work in appearing unaffected by anything?

"When was the last time a guy asked you out for coffee?" Lawley folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall.

I'm not telling him that! Carly cursed his too perfectly blond hair and grayish-hazelish . . . Just what color are his eyes supposed to be anyway?!

"Doctor?" he prodded.

She raised her chin and looked down her nose at him. "I hardly think that this is an appropriate conversation considering one of my co-workers is dead."

Lawley could read far enough into her non-answer to know that offers for coffee – or anything else – had been few and far between. He didn't feel sorry for her; no, it cleared the field for him. So instead of pressing his point, he allowed her to redirect the conversation.
"A co-worker you didn't get along with, and with whom you had a heated argument with less than 48 hours before his death. A fact with the detectives most likely suspect if they don't know for sure. They will have interviewed the hospital staff, and they have more than likely asked questions about Dr. Wright's work here. Your name has come up. Now, when you go down to visit them at the station –"

"That's not my concern at the moment," she sniffed, once more marching determinedly down the hall. She needed to find Toby and send him in to sit with Rainey for awhile, and then –

A hand around her elbow – a shockingly real hand – stopped her short and spun her around. "Now see here –"

"No." This time it was Lawley who interrupted. "For once you are going to allow me to interrupt you." His eyes were the most serious she'd ever seen them, with no sign of his teasing good-humor in them anywhere. "This is not a little thing that you are caught up in. I know the detectives that were here today. I've worked with them. When they realized who you were, I recognized their tone. In their minds, you are now just as much of a suspect as your patient, and you'd do well to keep that in mind and stop acting as if you're untouchable."

"I think you've proved that point," she said icily, shooting a pointed look at his hand. "If you'd be so kind, I have rounds to complete before I am free to go anywhere. With all this ruckus, I have still another patient that will be difficult to calm, and a friend to console." Though she was released, she didn't immediately leave. After the stunt he'd just pulled, she was going to give him a chance to apologize.

Not that he did. "Promise me you'll think about what I said."

Although he'd physically let her go, his eyes held her. This is the man who lives in a courtroom, she realized. When she looked at this man, she couldn't understand how she'd ever considered him as ultimately inconsequential. And I'm staring like a ninny. She tossed back the hair she hadn't had a chance to restrain, and replied, "I'm not in the habit of disregarding advice without considering it, Mr. Lawley."

It was his turn to grace her with a small smile. "It's Mick, and you're lying." Carly opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. "I'll let it slide this time, but take into consideration that part of my job is spotting a lie when I see one." With an sardonic tilt of his head, he dismissed himself and left Carly to her indignation.

"And then, and do you know what he had the balls to say then?" Carly was pacing back and forth in the break room, pouring out her difficulties to a largely unsympathetic audience. "He called me a liar! Me! I don't have a problem being straightforward with people, Leo. Aren't you one of the ones always telling me that I'm too blunt? Where does he get off accusing me of lying?"

"Ok, Carl, I know you didn't like Steve that much, but why are you obsessing over this now? Especially if the guy likes you."

"What do you mean 'especially if he likes me?' He doesn't like me. He's not trying to make friends, he's trying to get information."

"That's not the kind of like I meant, and you know it."

Carly gaped. "He does not. He does not like me."

"Then you like him."

"I do not!" She collapsed into a chair and buried her face in her hands.

"Then why are you so unsettled by this man paying you any attention?"

"When was the last time a man seriously paid me any attention?" Carly mumbled to her friend.

"When did you decide that one failed relationship was a good reason to live the life of a nun?"

"Somewhere between signing the divorce papers and sobering up," she muttered. "That entire period of my life is just a bit blurry."

"And you're sober now. Hasty decisions made while drunk are never the best. Let the guy hit on you."

"I don't want him to!"

"Why not?" Leo started to count off reasons on her fingers. "He's not at all hard on the eyes, he's approaching you despite your characteristically prickly behavior, he hasn't taken off running in the other direction. . ."

"So? You don't run in the other direction and I don't want you hitting on me." She sounded petulant even to herself, but Leo only laughed.

"Oh dear . . ." she finally gasped. "I needed that. Girl, if you could have heard yourself!"

Carly endured another round of laughter, smiling ruefully. "Glad I could help."

"You did." Leo took a seat at the table, setting a heavily-sugared cup of tea in front of Carly as she cradled her own cup of coffee. "It's been a long, hard day." This statement immediately sobered both women. "Nothing like this has ever happened around here," Leo murmured as she took a sip of her brew. "We've had patients assault doctors, or staff assault other staff, or just patients going at it. But murder?"

"They think one of my patients did it," Carly replied, staring blankly at the table. "He's here for suspicion of two other murders, but I don't think he's capable of it. Hell, he won't even look outside, Leo, much less go outside. And he's not violent. He was when he first came here, but he was also delusional. Now he's just . . ." She sighed. "I don't know what he's just. He doesn't talk, and he rarely tries to communicate. He can, he just chooses not to. I think he's recovering from some sort of internal trauma. But there's a big difference from being violent months ago and murdering someone now against all conclusions that any psychiatrist would draw from observation." Or at least almost any psychiatrist. Steve didn't seem to think so. "And why would he target a man who ineffectually saw to him nearly three months ago? It doesn't make any sense at all."

"So who do you think the police should be looking at? One of the staff?"

This time when Carly smiled, it was a grim one. "I guess no one got to you then. There's already been some questions about me. Someone let spill that Steve and I never saw eye to eye. On anything. And were more than willing to loudly discuss it." When she looked up, her friend's face was a perfect picture of shock. "Well, don't look so surprised. Haven't you ever watched Law and Order?"

"Carly Beckham! How can you joke about something like this?" Leo's voice was heavy with censure.

"It's not like I have anything to worry about. I didn't do it. I may have thought about throttling him a time or two, but that doesn't count."

"Well, did you correct anyone of their mistake?"

"I'm supposed to go down to 'the precinct' after my shift –"

"Which was half an hour ago. What are you still doing here?"

"Putting off the inevitably unpleasant?"

Leo stood and pointed at the door. "Out."

"Can't I finish my tea?"

"Out."

"But –"

"Out!" By this time, both women were smiling a little again.

"Tyrant," Carly muttered under her breath, dumping her drink down a nearby drain.

"Do you want me to come? For moral support?" Now that Carly was being sensible, the older woman felt comfortable offering a kindly shoulder.

"After that display? I think you'd be about as supportive as a drill sergeant come Lamaze coach." She slipped into her coat and grabbed her purse. "I'll see you tomorrow and will come prepared with masses of horror stories, I'm sure." Having gathered everything she needed, Carly let her hands fall to her sides. "How was Todd when he left?" The gardener had left as early as the police had allowed him to.

"He's shaken up and planning to take a few days off, but I think he'll be fine once he can turn his shock into righteous anger at having his domain so . . . desecrated."

Carly nodded. "Maybe I'll give him a call at home tomorrow or something. I'm sure he just wants to be alone with his wife tonight."

"You're stalling, Beckham."

"Can you blame me?" She shrugged. "Alright, I'm going before the drill master returns. Night, Leo."

"Night. Don't let them chew you up."

"After the day we've had? I think you'd best worry about them."

"Ah, Dr. Beckham, we're so pleased that you remembered our date."

The detective's tone as he pulled out a seat for her was grating. He was being no more than sarcastic, and his tone implied that if Carly hadn't come down to the station, then the men would have come to her and no one would have been happy.

"I would think that being here of my own free will no matter what the time would be enough to please you," she demurred as she took a seat in the offered chair. "After all, as far as I know you have plans to charge me with anything other than being bossy and uncooperative this morning."

"That was our mistake." The woman who spoke was new. Or at least, if she'd been at the hospital that morning, then Carly hadn't seen her. "I understand your dilemma this morning in kicking my colleagues out. My niece is autistic, so I understand the need to maintain a peaceful atmosphere."

The doctor gifted her audience with a tight smile. "I am sorry for your niece, but even if you understand autism, that doesn't necessarily mean you understand other forms of mental or developmental handicaps. Your niece at least can communicate when something displeases her. She can throw tantrums, and objects, or scream at the top of her lungs. My patient can't. Your 'colleagues' had no right to be interviewing him alone. We won't even discuss the rules they were breaking by entering his room without express consent from the doctor in charge – which would be me – or an administrator."

This little speech destroyed any and all chances of consideration being shown her, but Carly didn't care. The last thing she'd come here to do was to be patronized, and that's what the woman had been attempting to do. "Now, its getting late and I need to get home to feed my cat. Please, ask the questions you need to and let me leave."

The officers looked at each other and shrugged, then got down to business.

"Where were you the night and morning of May 19th, Dr. Beckham?"

"Why?" She was purposefully being difficult. It was small consolation for what the men had done to Rainey that morning, but it was all she could do without being thrown in jail or getting a formal reprimand put in her file.

"Several of your co-works said that you and Dr. Wright got along like cats and dogs. We hear you were always arguing about something – usually pretty heatedly, and often in front of an audience. It would be an easy thing to do to strike out in the midst of that sort of anger. We've seen it happen before. We've also seen people lie about it until they're facing a life term or two in the state penn. We just want to save you that trouble before you get too deeply invested."

Assholes. "I was on the phone until a few minutes before three. And then I went to bed."

"Can anyone confirm this? A husband? Boyfriend? Lover?"

Yeah right. "I'm single, but if you ask nicely, I'm sure my cat would back me up. Or you could just ask my mother since I was on the phone with her the entire time."

"You were on the phone with your mother until three in the morning? You two must be close."

Carly shook her head. "Not particularly. My brother is getting married in August, and I'm one of the bridesmaids. My mother is particularly overbearing, and she wanted more details than I wanted to give, which caused an argument. And my mother is not in the habit of letting things go. The only way to have any peace for the rest of my life, was to settle things. It took nearly three hours to do that."

"And if we called your mother, she'd tell us the same story."

"I would certainly hope so. She's old, not suffering from dementia."

"Fine. If you'd give us her number?" Carly rattled it off. "Thank you, doctor. Now, in any of these arguments, did you or Dr. Wright ever threaten one another? No necessarily with violence, but perhaps something that might be a threat to one's career?"

"No. We are – were – both adults. We might have been so unprofessional as to insult the other on a personal level –"

"What kind of insults?" By this time, everyone was taking notes.

"Just the normal 'whose aftershave smells like rotten tomatoes' versus 'she's nothing more than a block of ice.' But insults were always a last result. We preferred to duke it out in the professional area. Who cured more patients, who got handed the failures of other doctors, that sort of thing."

"And Mr. Rainey, he was one of those failed cases that was passed off to you from Dr. Wright?"

Bringing up anything to do with her patient was crossing the line as far as Carly was concerned. She stood. "I can't answer that. Am I free to go?"

"Not quite yet. We still need you to answer some questions about Mr. Rainey. We know that –"

She interrupted. "No."

"You didn't hear the question."

"It doesn't matter. The answer is still no because I have no legal right to be telling you anything. I know you hate the term 'doctor/patient confidentiality,' but that doesn't make it go away. On top of that, I don't feel comfortable on a moral level, not just a professional trying-to-cover-my-ass level. If you want information, you're going to have to go to Rainey's ex. She has power of attorney. Unless I hear directly from her, I'm afraid that not only can I not answer your questions, but I can't allow you to see Mr. Rainey. You," she pointed at the two men who were the cause of her anger, "are as lucky as hell that he didn't have an episode after you left. If he had, I'd be here pressing charges right now. As it is, I'm willing to forgive and forget as long as no further actions are taken that might disturb my patient." Carly gifted the room with a brittle smile. "Now, I really must be going."

There was nothing they could do to stop her from leaving, so the detectives just looked at each other then back at her. "Don't go too far. We may have questions later."

She choose to deliberately misunderstand. "I have a job, one that I have to appear at in the morning. Considering the amount of time I spent sleeping last night, I won't be going anywhere but home."

After a few hours of lying in bed, exhausted yet unable to sleep, Carly got up and dressed. Utterly disgusted, she grabbed her keys and left the house, unsure of where she was headed at this time of night, but unable to stay inside a moment longer.

She drove around for nearly an hour before deciding that she couldn't continue wasting gas for so frivolous a reason as stress-induced insomnia. Before she knew it, she was in the parking lot of Briar Ridge. It was awkward for her to go into the building while dressed in sweats – and rumpled ones at that – but now that she was here, she might as well check in on Mort.

There was a big difference between "checking in" on someone though, and standing outside their door, watching them. The nurses had reported that Mort had occasional been battling insomnia since he'd been moved to the second floor, but they hadn't said how bad it was. Like Carly, he was restless, pacing back and forth, back and forth, back and forth across the floor of his room. He would switch a lamp on, study the effect it had for several minutes, then switch it back off. The moon was a few days away from full, and the light from where it came in near the top of the blinds cast shadows on the wall. It seemed to Carly that he was searching for the source of the shadows.

"Excuse me, but you can't be here –" As the nurse got closer, she must have recognized Carly despite the rumpled clothing. "Oh, sorry, Dr. Beckham. I didn't realize who you were. After this morning, I didn't want to take any chances."

"Perfectly understandable, umm . . ." She racked her brain for the woman's name. "Claire. Right?"

"Yes, doctor."

"Alright. I'm going to go in for a little while. This seems to be as good a time as any to tell him about the humongous window that came with the room."

"I'll call security and have them send someone up." The nurse turned to leave.

"What? Wait. Why do you need to call security?"

"Orders from Dr. Holshack, ma'am. All doctors seeing any patients at any time after normal working hours must have a guard or an orderly waiting outside the door."

"So it's not just –" Rainey " – me?"

"No. After yesterday, no one is to take any chances. The guard won't go into the room with you, but he will be listening through the intercom."

Perfect. Now on instead of the patients having little privacy, they have none. Orders were orders though, and no matter how hard Carly fought these, she wasn't going to win. "Okay. I'll be inside." Before anymore protests could be lodged, she slipped into Mort's room.

Her patient spun around, taken by complete surprise by his visitor. Carly noted that his first reaction was one of trying to hide himself in plain sight, not one of self-defense. Or at least not self-defense in terms of violence.

"It's alright, Mort. It's Dr. Beckham. You know me." He looked around his arms at her, apparently unable to merge the image he held of her as the white coat clad doctor, and the rumpled woman before him. "It's night. I couldn't sleep so I decided to come down and see how you were doing." Turning the conversation onto mundane topics, Carly leaned back against the door and waiting for Mort to adjust to her presence. "Did Toby come in a visit you this afternoon?"

Mort nodded, shrugged, then nodded again, giving Carly the impression that he vaguely remembered the other man's presence, but couldn't remember if it'd been that day or a previous day. He didn't stop his pacing.

Carly watched him in silence for a few more minutes. He was agitated, but it wasn't anything nearly as intense as the behavior she'd originally observed in him. Slowly but surely, he was learning how to manage his emotions and impulses. It was a sign of recovery and adjustment. Both were very good things.

As she watched, he returned to the lamp and flicked it on and off several times, seemingly taking note of what shadows were thrown by the light bulb, and which weren't. After turning the lamp off a final time, he shook his head and resumed pacing, now and then throwing a glance at the far wall where phantom tree branches blew.

"Do you want to know where they're coming from, Mort?" He glanced at her but didn't indicate that he wanted her help. "The shadows. I see you watching them, trying to tell what's causing them. They're coming from the window."

Her words caused him to look around bewilderedly, the crown of his head catching a ray of moon light for a brief second before disappearing back into the shadow. Finally he turned back to her, his eyes accusing, as if she'd just lied to him. "Where is the window?" she heard him ask in her mind. The strange fancy made her smile.

"The window is behind the blinds," she murmured. "See them over there? Opposite your bed?" This time when he turned to look, Carly walked over to stand at his side. "Right there. In the light the blinds are cream colored." His head twitched as if he'd only just kept himself from looking at her, but had stopped himself. "You can go look. They won't bite." That earned her a hand-flap, but he moved away from her warily.

Following behind, Carly walked with him to the window. Mort reached out a cautious hand and felt the blinds as a child might pet an unfriendly dog – gingerly and ready to snatch his hand back at the first sign of danger. His fingers made a soft "puth"-ing sounds as he ran them down the accordion-like folds. The top of the blinds ended a foot or so above his head; he couldn't see out. Couldn't prove that there was nothing more than wall behind the blind without pulling it aside and looking for himself. After a few minutes of contemplation, that was what he did.

Carly watched with nearly bated breath as Mort slowly pulled the blinds aside. At the first sign of glass, he jumped back, his hands shaking. She heard him start breathing hard as his head started to shake in denial; as she'd suspected before moving him here, he was terrified of windows. But there was only so much that she could responsibly allow as his doctor, and this phobia – unfortunately – was not one of them. He had to be accustomed to seeing the outside world before she could take him there, and that meant having the window uncovered. And that meant a little "tough love" at the moment.

"Mort, listen to me." Carly grabbed his shoulders when he would have run to his bed. "No, you can't run away. Not this time." He pushed at her, but after so many months of little physical activity, his strength didn't even start to compare with hers, and he lacked the hysteria that would willingly make her release him. "No," she said sternly, shaking him a little. "No. You do not get to fight me about this. I know you're scared – I know that, I do – but you're hiding here. I realize that you're hurt inside and that you need a safe place to heal, but you can't allow yourself to spend the rest of your life here. Do you understand me?" He no longer physically fought her, but his reluctance to meet her eyes indicated that he was trying to ignore what she was saying. I'll let him have that at least. That's something that everyone does.

"You need sunlight, Mort. Not just your mind, but your body. It is good for you, and it can't get in until you're ready to lower the blinds all the way. See?" Releasing him with one hand, she pointed to the very top of the blinds where a scant nine inches of window was visible. "The blinds come down from the top. Not the bottom. I'm not going to force you to look out a window all in one day, but it has to happen eventually. I'm going to lower them a little tonight, just as soon as we're done talking, but that's the last time I am going to do it. After that I'm leaving it in your control. But understand this." She ducked her head a little so that he had no choice but to look at her. "If you don't lower them an inch or two every week, either Toby or I will have to do it. I don't want to have to do that. I want you to willingly do it yourself. But don't think I won't do it if I have to. Do you understand?" He wrung his hands. "Mort, do you understand?" He glanced off to the side.

Nuh-uh. "Mort, look at me." Her sharp tone made him cringe, but he did reluctantly meet his eyes, and she softened her voice some. "Do you understand me?" He blinked a few times, shuffled his feet, then looked away.

"I'm going to take that as a yes," she sighed, letting him go. Instead of running somewhere safe as she'd suspected, he stood where he was. Carly didn't know what he intended to communicate by doing that, but she wasn't going to question it either. She also wasn't going to stand around and give him the impression that she was accustomed to making empty threats.

Moving decisively – but not too quickly out of fear of worrying him – she moved to the window and took the string to lower the blinds in her hands. She could hear the shuffling of feet behind her, but Carly didn't let that stop her. Taking great care, she lowered the blinds another three inches so there was a foot of glass visible at the top. Since the top of the windowpane was about seven feet off the floor, this still left the blinds high enough that Rainey wouldn't be able to see out of them.

"There, that's wasn't so bad, was it?" The question escaped her mouth before she turned around; the sight that met her eyes when she did was not an encouraging one. Mort was pale, sweaty, and shaking. It reminded her greatly of the picture that'd greeted her in her own mirror back when she was waking up with hangovers every morning, or when she'd been going through her de-tox cycle. "Well, bad enough, I suppose," she murmured as she went back to him. "That's all I'm asking for you tonight, Mort. Why don't you go to bed and then I'll leave you in peace."

Almost before the suggestion was out of her mouth, her patient was scuttling across the room. Carly didn't follow. She doubted her presence was very soothing at the moment. All she did was make sure that Mort got into bed – still clothed in his own sweats and his robe – before going to the door.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Mort. Sweet dreams."

With her back turned, she missed the shudder that swept over him at her words.

Author Thanks: thanks to Sparrow Lover (I knew bumping Steve off wouldn't upset too many people. That was one of the reasons I chose him. We'll see if I'm so merciful in the future, or even if I choose to do in anyone else. You never know because I'm a wild and crazy person. nods); Stahlfan125 (You have a laptop? Cool. Personally I don't like them, but I think the only reason is because there's no number pad and the keyboard isn't angled. :P I'm glad though that this story helped start a school day. They're bad enough as is. And Steve – boy, no one has pity for that guy. Of course, I didn't choose the most dignified of ends for him either.); Scarlett Burns (Scarlett! pretends she gets slapped Not sure I deserved that … wonderful review. ;) I'm so very glad you approve of the way I'm writing this SW fic. It's hard because I – and everyone else – want Mort to be well, and then there's all the other fics in this section, etc., etc., etc. I hope this chapter came soon enough to keep you from withering, because if you did, I'd never get an end to Sands Through the Hour Glass, and I'm on tenterhooks to find out just what is going on there.); Dawnie-7 (Snoopy dances. grins That Steve. Well, I'm glad his demise brought everyone so much joy. And Mort's nickname for Carly, it just seemed right because in the movie – and especially in the novella – Mort, when he's not focusing on Shooter, is focused on Amy. So there we go.); A Cheerful Reader (lol. Oh dear. I'm really not trying to parallel your life or anything. I actually got the idea from watching "I Love the 80's" recently. They had a segment on "Mommie Dearest" and the line "No…more…wire…hangers! kinda stuck with me. I'm glad you – and everyone else – has the killer fingered. Apparently mystery writing is not my forté. ); Savvy TBird (If you're finding this story to be realistic, then I've succeeded in writing it.); CaptainJackSparrowsGirl (After what Mort went through, it seemed to me that he might pull an Ichabod and go ahead and faint at the sight of blood. Thank you for waiting; that you do it just for me makes it even more special.); Rebel Lady (don't worry about reviewing every chapter. I understand that there is such a thing as real life, even if I don't want there to be. I'm glad that the Steve/Carly wrestlemania episode was well received. It was fun to write.); Nithke (I hope I'm on a roll. That would be great. Have to watch out for crumbs though. ;) Eunuch chapters. lol I lime that! What a great term. And great way to continue the poultry theme. You leave me unable to cry fowl. ); Isola (lol, you're not lazy. You were just involved in another story. :P I loved the novella. It was frickin' amazing. I'm so very glad that I've gained your approval with this fic. That is always one of my biggest concerns when writing. Like the last time could have been a fluke or something.); Merrie (I decided to let Carly have some fun – thus, the ass-kicking episode. I kinda like Lawley too, which is turning out as a surprise since I didn't originally envision him as acting like this. In fact, he started as a family man…so much for that. And Toby is here just for you, so I certainly hope you like him. Perhaps I'll have to work in some goldfish sooner or later. ); Gaze (I've grown up in a time where its relatively easy to fine sheroes in books and in the media, which is lucky. My favorite authors – Tamora Pierce, Garth Nix, Robin McKinley – all have butt-kickin' females as their leads. I'm just glad that I have an audience that's receptive to all this. Twenty years ago that might not have been the case. I'm glad the murder was a surprise, but I felt that this needed to be more than a 'how Mort got better' story so there we go.); Isabela Pucini (Typos. rolls eyes That's what happens when you don't have a spell check. I grimace even to think about what my chapters would look like without one. I find myself switching POV's not to keep things entertaining, but whenever I find myself stumped by a single POV. By switching, I get to see things out of new eyes, and I can continue. But I'm glad I do it if it makes things easier to read. Dictionaries are a girl's best friend, and I maintain that POV until I need an atlas. Then I switch. ); pandagal (They dare think it because it is the easiest conclusion. Shooter? Perhaps. You'll know eventually.); Blue Autumn Sky (I'm glad you're finding this story so enjoyable. That is one of the reasons I write. I hope this update came soon enough, and that it does not in fact, find you dead.)

Alright, just one more thing before I sign off. I'm starting a new fic called Post Script. It's a fanfic based on From Hell, yet another wonderful performance by Mr. Depp. I hope to have it up in the Misc. forum in this section by the end of the week. It's going to be rated PG-13, so please come by and read a chapter or two.