A/N: I had every intention of finishing my PsychFic, but this just kept nagging me. And so, to let you guys know that I haven't given up on this story, I'm posting a chapter when i shouldn't because all of my information- the entire plot of the story- was lost when my computer crashed. Thanks to everyone who reviewed/followed/favorited and just read in general. I quite enjoy knowing people in cyberspace found my little corner of weirdness.

I want to prepare you now though, my next update could either be within the next week, or the next year. I'm really bad at updates.

Disclaimer- If i owned it, would i be on here?

Nick was never particularly fond of the morgue. He wasn't particularly fond of dead bodies for that matter. However, Of all the things inside that dark cold basement, what bothered him the most was not the mangled up bodies they came across, nor the autopsy's he sometimes witnessed, but the reminder that came with it; we are fragile. You never know when your time will come, and in the end our bodies that house our souls, something so precious to us, is nothing but meat. Coming inside that room somehow always made him depressed and thankful at the same time.

As he swung the doors open he was immediately greeted with the strong stench of rotting flesh which with years of practice, only made him wince on the inside. Doc Robbins had already done the autopsy's on the 3 Steidbaker's and was now waiting patiently at his desk with the paperwork.

"Hey Doc." Said Nick as he arrived at his desk.

"Hello Nick. You came right on time. I was just about to page you." Doc got up from his chair, leaning heavily upon the cane he used. Every year he got older Doc Robbins whole heartily believed, that if his leg continues to get more useless, he was going to chop it off himself and replace it with something more handy- like a broom, or a putter. He was only a couple years from retirement now, and Dave was now sufficient enough to have his own assistant so he wasn't too desperate as to start chopping off limbs. Tonight was particularly painful though. His leg always acted up when he had a child on the table. The unfairness of it all never went away, not even after 32 years of leaning over that slab.

Doc Robbins lead Nick to the child and said, "Well I'll start with him first. COD was the gunshot to the head and it should bring a little consolation that he didn't suffer. I was also able to retrieve the bullet." He reached towards a small silver tray and handed him the container.

"Looks like a 40 caliber but it's hard to tell with how banged up it is. It bounced around in his skull before sticking to the occipital lobe. Other than that, the kid was healthy. Just a healed fractured arm but nothing to suggest any kind of assault. The parents however, had a more colorful past then their suburban home led on." Doc now walked to the foot of the slabs containing Marley and Theresa with cheap white sheets covering them from the chest down.

"Both of them had track marks up and down their arms suggesting heavy users. But they are quite old, between 10 and 15 years."

"So around the kids age." Nick said sadly.

Doc lowered his gaze to the womans blank expression. "Most likely they cleaned themselves up for the baby's health."

"Well if they got themselves cleaned up they must have gotten help. There might be some information at a rehab clinic. Though it will be hard to get any. What else have you got?"

Doc walked around to the man and raised his fist. "There is substantial fractures in his right hand on the knuckles and what looks like teeth impressions as I'm sure you are aware of. However, and this is quite new to me, I found a small skin pocket on his hand." Nick arched his eyebrows in surprise.

"A what?"

"A skin pocket, between his middle and right index finger. This is something you might see in a piercing, but if it was, it's none I've ever seen before. You could literally put something small inside it, like a pearl, and nobody would know the difference. It must have been pretty painful to get though, it's sliced through some pretty sensitive nerves."

"Is this something you can get by accident?"

"Normally I would say yes, but there is no evidence to suggest the rest of the hand was that damaged and it's position would be pretty hard, though not impossible, to slice open. It could be either though personally my guess is that he did it himself."

"Well they were users, maybe he hid his emergency stash there." Although Nick had a feeling that it was used for something much less recreational.

"Kind of small for a serious user but possible."

"Anything else Doc?"

"Nothing that you don't already know."

Nick grabbed his paperwork and started walking out the door when Doc asked, "Hey when you see Greg, let him know I'm really glad he's not on my table right now." Nick nodded. "Oh and keep him out of alleys would you? They say third times the charm." His face was solemn. Nick nodded again a bit more tense than the last and walked out.

Sara meanwhile, was assigned another case after finishing the Steidbaker house. What looked like a robbery gone terribly wrong. The victim was 76 year old Louisa Day and she was found amidst her scattered and trashed living room lying in a pool of blood with a single gun shot to the head. As Sara scanned what remained of her torn home, she saw bits and pieces of Louisas life. Hanging crooked on the wall was a picture of her, who she assumed was her husband, and her daughter all with tight grins from the long hour at a professional studio. He was resting a hand awkwardly on her slender shoulder, she was placing a gentle hand on her daughters. The resemblance between the mom and her 10 year old daughter is easily seen. Both had lovely pale blue eyes, thick golden blonde hair, and petite figures. Sara looked down at Louisa now. Even amongst the blood and trash, she could see the loveliness the woman possessed.

Sometimes Sara would create a fantasy world of her victims. In the beginning she would find bits and pieces of their lives and string them together in a web of pure happiness. Families were her weakness. In a case where a father was found murdered, Sara would see family pictures and refrigerators filled with calendar dates circled and artwork achieved through finger painting, and she would imagine them sitting down for a family dinner discussing what happened at school or at work. She would imagine them going out to the movies together, parent teacher conferences, or singing campfire songs on the backyard while roasting marshmallows over a grill. They would laugh together, help each other, and do other normal family things. Her favorite fantasy, was picturing them watching TV together, perfectly content with just being in each others company. No words would be necessary. Just a man leaning over to give his wife a kiss, just to see her smile, and the kids smiling too because they want to have what they did one day.

In reality however, families hurt each other. The people biologically programmed to protect and love them, usually became the people that hurt them the most. Sara had personal experience with this subject. That case with the dead father was only one example of how family members can destroy everything. The man was murdered by his wife. She caught him taking the money out of their childrens college funds and using it to gamble. During interrogation she confessed to killing him, saying it was an accident, that it was never supposed to happen that way. Now her 9 year old little boy and 4 year old little girl had to stay with their aunt- forever followed by this tragedy. And these fantasy's of Sara's went from perfectly put together to crippled and dark, ripped apart by their own human failures.

Sara had been trying to quite this obsession for years now. She would become too attached to the victims and it made it so much harder to be unbiased, and as she learned of their true nature she became vengeful. As she looked around the room at the pictures now half ripped and laying on the ground she began to notice something. None of these pictures seemed to go beyond the year 1985. There were no recent pictures anywhere. No graduation, no first job pictures, nothing beyond middle school. It seems I'm not the only one living in a fantasy world thought Sara.

"Hey Sara, do you mind giving me a hand?" asked Dave. He was leaning over the body with his hands beneath giving Sara a nod for the legs. She blinked a couple times, refocusing on the task, and leaned down to help flip Louisa over gently. Immediately you could see something was wrong. Dave gasped in surprise.

"What is that?" asked Sara leaning closer to get a better look. Inside Louisa's mouth, was green with white pustules. Her tongue was almost completely shriveled up. Dave squinted his face both repulsed and trying to get a better look.

"It looks like a chemical burn or some kind of fungus, definitely not something natural." Dave easily put his finger in her mouths and pointed his flashlight down her throat. "Looks like it took a good portion of her esophagus too."

"I don't think this was just a robbery anymore. Can you tell whether or not she was shot before or after this?"

"Well from the way the skin is creased, I would say she was shot after so most likely this chemical burn came anti-mortem and the gunshot is probably the COD but I will have to confirm in autopsy." Two MT's came over with a stretcher and helped lift Louisa Day onto it. Sara began searching the room for clues. She checked the living room, dusted for prints, took a handful or so of pictures, pulled fibers and hairs, then restarted the process in the bedrooms and the bathrooms. When she was done she looked around for Detective Vartann and found him talking to some officers on the front lawn.

"Hey Vartann," Said Sara as she approached the diligent men. Vartann turned around to face her.

"What can I do for you Sara?" He asked.

"Has the family been notified yet?"

"Well, the husband died about 15 years ago in a mining accident and the daughter ran away in the 80's. As far as we know she didn't have any siblings either." Just then a young woman approached the crime scene tape with a handful of groceries. She was a little short with dark brown hair and wore a tight button-busting top and a short black skirt with heels.

"Hey what happened To Lou?" She shouted, dropping her bags and running to the front porch. The officers immediately stopped her from entering and Vartann came to get information.

"I'm afraid that Ms. Day has past away. Were you close to her?" He asked cautiously.

"She's dead? Ah shit man, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit." Her eyes began to water as she was asked to sit down. Vartann handed her a tissue and she dabbed her eyes, to prevent a puddle of black sludge to cake her face.

"Well do you know who did it?" She finally asked.

"How do you know she was murdered?" Asked Vartann suspiciously.

"Lou was too tough to die of natural causes."

"How did you know her?"

"A couple months back she watched my kid. I'm her neighbor and it was an emergency. Ever since then she's been watchin' my kid for free on saturday's and I would get her groceries for her. She was old you know, hated driving."

"You said you lived next door. Have you noticed anything suspiciously lately? Any unknown cars parked around or people you've never seen before?"

"Nah, nothin' like that, but there was something weird about Lou yesterday. I called to get her list of food and stuff she needed and she was all cryin' you know, so I asked her what was wrong and she said she couldn't say she just gave me her list and asked me to save a note in case her daughter showed up. Though if you asked me, she was fishin' with no bait. Daughter hasn't been seen or heard from in years. Not even a note sayin' 'Fine,' to let her know she was okay. Now I know I ain't exactly makin' my mama proud but that's hittin' below the belt cause Lou was always worried her daughter was in danger of some kind. Blamed herself for her running away, but in my opinion she was just ungrateful."

"Can we see the note she wanted to leave?" asked Sara.

"Yeah It's in my house next door. Doesn't make a lick of sense to me." She got up and straightened herself out.

"One of my officers will come with you and get your name and number in case we need to contact you again. Thank you for your time and I'm sorry for your loss." said Vartann.

"Louisa was like my own mother. Just catch the son of a bitch, she deserved better." and she walked away with an officer in tow.

"Sara, did you find anything concrete? Any chance the robber dropped his drivers license?"

"No."

"Damn."

A/N: Thank you for reading, I realize this chapter was devoid of one Mr. Sanders, but he shall appear promptly in the next chapter. By the way, that nastiness in Louisa's mouth- completely made up because I'm too lazy/time deficient to look for real ailments. Reviews would be most helpful because my writing skills are running on Calculus. I hope you are having a beautiful day :)