The images on the TV flickered in the darkened room, bouncing shadows onto the walls. Julia Roberts, in all her curly haired glory, was ogling a beautiful diamond necklace in its box before Richard Gere snapped it playfully shut on her fingers, eliciting her trademark laugh.

Normally Chloe could watch Pretty Woman, riveted to the screen no matter how many times she had seen it, but this time she found herself checking her watch endlessly.

Ten o'clock.

Ten o'five

Ten—fifteen."

"Ten—thirty."

Jimmy was snuggled up to her on his couch, his right arm draped around her shoulder. He hadn't moved or said anything in the last half hour, and his slow, even breathing sounded like he was fast asleep. Chloe tilted her head towards him and saw his eyes shut, his mouth agape with a tiny bit of drool sliding out of the corner.

"Nice," She muttered to herself. "I bailed out of investigating for this." Part of her was peeved, but the other half relieved as she looked around the cramped, messy apartment. The main reason, besides a chick flick classic, for insisting Chloe come over was to discuss his proposition that she move in with him. She was glad she was able to avoid the subject so far; she had done a masterful job of changing the subject all night, and with Jimmy now out like a light at her side she was confident she would be able to escape unscathed.

Julia Roberts was now at the opera, someone asking her how she liked it.

"Oh, it was so good—I almost peed in my pants."

Richard Gere stepped in smoothly.

"She said she liked it better than Pirates of Penzance."

Suddenly Chloe felt a vibration shoot into her hip. She realized her phone was ringing and she reached into her pants pocket, sliding slowly away from Jimmy as not to wake him. Jimmy groaned and shifted his body—still asleep—his arm sliding off Chloe as he curled up into a ball with a nearby pillow. Chloe stood up and tip toed into the kitchen, pressing her phone up to her ear. "Hello?" She whispered.

There was no answer, just muffled sounds in the background. "Hello? Clark?" She asked to no answer. She looked at her cell display and it read blocked and she knew who it had to be. "I need to know your name—do you still want to meet me? Are you in Belle Reeve?"

There was yet another brief moment of silence, and then a man's voice spoke quietly. "My name is Davis. Yes I am. I want to meet you. I have informat—" He cut off abruptly and Chloe heard what could be described as a struggle, with at least two other men's voices apparent in the background. "Hello? Hello?" She whispered; there were a few more sounds, a few more muffled shouts and then nothing but dial tone.

Chloe's hunch was right— he was being held at Belle Reeve. She peered around the corner; Jimmy was now snoring loudly. As she snuck quietly over to the couch to grab her purse, she heard the TV, Julia Roberts speaking emotionally.

"When I was a little girl, my mama used to lock me in the attic when I was bad, which was pretty often…And I would—I would pretend I was a princess trapped in a tower by a wicked Queen. And then suddenly this knight on a white horse with all these colors flying would come charging up and draw his sword…..

Chloe paused for a moment, looking down a Jimmy's contented face as he slept. She remembered fondly a time when she thought of him like that; someone to rescue her from her daily life—someone to love her.

"And I would wave. And he would climb up the tower and rescue me. But never in all the time that I had that dream did the knight say to me.. "Come on baby, I'll put you up in a great condo."

But now she had a sinking feeling she needed rescuing from him instead.

Chloe grabbed her purse and reached for the remote; she clicked off the TV and pulled an afghan off the back of the couch, placing it around Jimmy. She knew Jimmy would be angry with what she was about to do—but she didn't care. This was just too good. This was what she lived for. She was a reporter, and this was her story—she couldn't fight her self any longer.

He would just have to understand.

As she snuck out of the apartment and ran down to her car she dialed Clark's number. "Come on Clark, pick up." She said out loud as she revved the engine and sped out of the parking lot. After a few rings with no answer it went to voice mail. " Clark, I don't know where you are," She spoke rapidly after the beep. "But you were right—the source called back. I think he's in trouble and I'm on my way to Belle Reeve."