Disclaimer: All characters seen or mentioned on COLD CASE belong to CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer and are used without permission. Sueing me would be a waste of time, since there's nothing you'd get out of this, because I don't make any money with this story.

Thanks a lot for all the reviews. I didn't expect to get so many of them since I found so many spelling errors.

"Hemerocallis" is a Lilly (not the Lilly, just a Lilly). It's a DayLilly I've been told ... and well, this one is the "Day of Lilly".

BTW, another question for all the guys who have seen second season two episodes (or just paid better attention than me): Do we know (see middle of Spoiler block):

SPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILER
SPOILERSPOILERWho raped Lilly?SPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILER
SPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILER

If you don't like the idea of Scotty/Lilly, you should definitely leave. No sex, and maybe a tiny bit of romance in this part ...

ORPHEUS AND EURYDIKE
No. 4: Hemerocallis
by Dare

When Scotty woke up this morning – already his fifth morning in a city he still liked to call foreign or even strange – the digital clock said 6:12.

He again stared at the ceiling which was depressingly empty; the first thing he decided was to put something up there. Maybe a picture or – the little six-year old boy within him squealed with delight – some small stars you could glue to the ceiling and which would glow in the darkness.

He contemplated that thought and swept it away – he was a grown man, for goodness sake, a police officer no less and there was no way he would ever put small, glowing stars on the ceiling of his sleeping room.

"No way denying it, Valens – you feel miserable and you are pathetic," he mumbled to himself, while he getting up. He walked to his bathroom and took a shower.

Afterwards, with lots and lots of anti-hangover shower gel, he felt remotely better. Breakfast was some fat free cornflakes, milk, an apple, a peanut-butter sandwich and about a gallone of coffee.

He walked over to the door, went through his mental checklist ("Where are the fucking keys?") and when he opened it, he did not notice a small, marble statue in form of a cat which had been placed in front of his door.

He stumbled over it – and the only thing he noticed about it was the faint noise of a crash when it fell down the staircase and burst asunder with a thousand pieces left. The twin of the stone cat stoically sat in the last drawer of his desk, when he arrived in the bureau.

Eric Orson was already there, wearing an absolutely perfect suit.

Possibly Armani, Valens thought. How can he afford those things?

Orson held a small piece of paper in his hand and waved with it. He handed it to Valens, careful not to touch anything too human, too impure.

"Who is this?" Scotty asked. "A colleague of Edward Sykes or a relative?" He stared at Orson and tried hard not to frown.

Orson had stuck a way too large nose spray into the organ in the middle of his face and snorted several times before he answered: "A colleague. But according to Charles Greenwood whom I phoned this very morning, those two where closely affiliated."

"You mean they were involved?" Valens asked.

Orson nodded. "Yes. Amelia Pherson, formerly Amelia Sanchez. Her husband is a well-known lawyer of Pherson, Pherson & Fizz. I suggest we try to be diplomatic."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Valens asked.

"Nothing. Have you already had breakfast this morning?" Eric Orson wanted to know.

"Yes," Valens said. He tried to keep a straight face. Orson eating lunch was a difficult thing to do, but Orson eating his breakfast ...

Scotty shook his head. Compared to Eric Orson, Vera back in Philly was a choir boy.

Valens watched his partner leaving the bureau. He phoned Charles Greenwood this morning. It's not even eight o'clock. Geez.

"Nice ass, I know."

Valens turned around. "What?"

"I said ..." Tess Trudeau started.

"I know what you said," Scotty answered. "I wasn't ... are you implying that I was checking him out?"

Tess smiled. "Louder. I'm not sure they heard you in Timbuktu."

Scotty quickly looked around. Most of the desks where empty so god had not completely forsaken him. "I wasn't – I was just glad that he's eating his breakfast alone, because ..."

"Shoomoolan cookies?"

"Yes. I have never seen anything more disdainful in my entire life," Valens said. "How can he eat them?"

"They are sugar – and fat free and contain minerals, vitamins and ginkogiloba. And they are an European speciality. I honestly don't know how you can eat them," she added. "Still, I had to ask. I mean, it's always good to know if one is competition or not, right?"

"Right. Though I don't know how anyone could compete for Eric Orson of all people," Scotty said.

"Well, he's not my type," Tess said.

"What is your type then, if you don't mind me to ask?" Scotty asked. The next second he wanted to hit himself for it.

Tess smiled. "My type has less Y-chromosomes. And by the way, Rydell wants to see you." Then, she sauntered away.

Scotty stared at her for a second, then shook his head. The one single woman he was currently working with liked her human beings with no Y-chromosomes.

Great.

He approached Rydell's door and before he could knock, he heard someone shout "Come in!"

Rydell sat behind his desk, two large stacks of files adorning his bureau. "Sit," he grumbled, scribbled something on a document, closed the file and placed it on one of the stacks. Then, he looked up.

"How are you doing?"

Valens knew Rydell meant the case. Rydell always meant the case -- and he always meant business."Well – currently, we are checking with all the colleagues of Edward Sykes. Today, we are going to visit Amelia Pherson, who was probably involved with Sykes."

"I see." Rydell rubbed the bridge of his nose.Dark circles made his eyes look even darker than usual. Apparantlyit wasalready a hard day for him."I see. How is Orson doing?"

"Good. Besides his quirks, of course," Valens answered. He wondered what Rydell was really trying to say.

"Nothing – out of the ordinary?" Rydell continued.

"Sir," Scotty shook his head. "I think Eric Orson is completely out of the ordinary. What are you getting at?"

"Look," Rydell apparently was uncomfortable about the entire subject. "Eric Orson was always a good officer. Always by the book, as you probably have noticed. But his quirks, as you call them, they started to emerge after he was starting to work with – are you familiar with Orson's former partner?"

"He told me about him, yes."

"His peculiarities started to emerge for the first time during his collaboration with Frederick Zimmer. The dead girl, Diana Trent, is Frederick Zimmer's most important case and I am not sure if it is wise ..." he trailed off and his face grew hard again. "If he starts to act weird – even weirder than usual, I want to be informed, understood?"

"Understood, sir."

"Good. Fine. You are dismissed." Valens started to get up, but Rydell stopped him. "There is one last thing – today arrive the information you requested from Quantico. I didn't know you had connections to the FBI?"

Neither did I. "I tryeverything, even grasping ... you know," he said. When he closed the door behind him, he smiled. Thanks, Lil.

"Thanks for your time, Mrs. Pherson," Scotty Valens said. "We really appreciate your help."

Amelia was a beautiful woman in her mid forties. A beautiful woman who would only marry a man with enough money. Valens couldn't imagine her working with a guy who wore baseball caps that said:

Reality is where the pizza comes from.

Those were possibly the good old times Amelia Pherson would talk about with her girlfriends at some charity function as if Amelia Sanchez were a completely different person from a completely different life.

"Ah, yes, Edward. He was such an adorable man. That is, until I found out he was cheating on me."

"He was – cheating on you?"

"With Bernadette Dukes – I think she is now night manager at McDonald's." The smile was a cat's smile, after she had caught the bird and eaten it. "But anyway, yes, he was. But at that time I had already met Fabio."

"The girl was murdered in October 17th 1987. Do you remember anything about that period of time?" Orson asked.

"No – besides his affair with Bernadette Dukes? Nothing of importance. He still had his job at Green Tech and worked for that old man. Did his shopping – I think he was an old friend of his father."

"Do you remember the name?" Valens asked. Something was ringing in the back of his mind.

"No – it was a foreign name. Asian I think, but I'm not sure," Amelia Pherson said.

"Please, try to remember. It could be very important, Mrs. Pherson."

Amelia frowned and started to think. "Nothing common like Fujitsu, Honda or Subaru or anything ... it was with a 'T'." She raised her eyebrow sand her smile disappeared. It was a perilous sight – almost as perilous as if the face disappeared and the smile was the only thing left. It reminded Scotty somehow of a cat. "Tanaka. His name was Tanaka. James Tanaka."

Valens and Orson exchanged a glance.

Bingo.

During the lunchbreak, Scotty went to s small shop two streets away and came back with a calender that showed several photographs the Hubble Space Telescope had shot. They weren't small stars that could be glued to his ceiling but they were a beginning.

He was humming when he entered the police station, nodded at the woman behind the corner and took the lift in order to get to his floor.

The doors closed and a blonde woman pushed several time the button of the lift, then decided to take the stairs.

Scotty Valens arrived at his bureau, a little bit exhausted, but happy.

"At least we have our connection between Edward Sykes and James Tanaka," Scotty said to Orson, who sat at the desk next to him.

Twentythree pencils lay before him while he himself was occupied with resharpening the twentysixth pencil.

Scotty Valens placed the calender next to his desk, than he sat down and started to sway with his chair. "The question is: how come that Sykes' business card was in Diana Trent's necklace?"

"Maybe it was him who brought the necklace to James Tanaka? Maybe he forgot it there?"

It was a female voice who said that. A voice that belonged someone who was several degrees away on the other side of the continent. Scotty twisted his neck so he could see who was standing behind him.

Blonde hair, blue eyes, an amused smile. "Your Quantico connections have arrived."

He wanted to say something – but lost balance and fell over.

Once again, he saw an empty ceiling, but suddenly, his view was obscured by the face of a woman who was trying hard to suppress her smile.

"Scotty?" she asked. The word was full of laughter and ... bubbles. There was no other way to describe it. "Are you all right?" Behind her, Orson was standing, munching a Shoomoolan cookie. If Scotty's back hadn't been aching so much and if he had been able to breath properly, he would have laughed, but ...

At least he managed to say some words, which were (he knew) not the most brilliant thing to say:

"Lillian Rush," he managed, followed by an

"Ouch."

End #4

MaryRose, Nix707, Abby909, Chaimera, Karin1, pealee, AthenaIceGoddess, lil smiles, Mellie Erdmann, kawaii-peach14, abb900, Becky Greenleaf, Annica, givemecookies, Tiantian Wang and everyone else who reviewed and I again forgot: thanks for your reviews.