Well, here you go! The not so long awaited third chapter. Don't worry, I'll even my writing out again, and update my other fics, I'm just inspired with this one right now. And you gotta go where the inspiration takes you, right? Right. Anways, you know the drill, read, review, enjoy. Seriously. In that order. If I catch you enjoying before you've review... ::shakes head:: Well, just don't let it happen. A huge thank you to stress, Morning Glory Conlon, and Queen Kez the Wicked for their reviews. You rock my very socks.

Jack finally made his way into the restaurant. Or, rather, he stumbled into the restaurant, tripping over the threshold, just barely managing to catch himself before grabbing onto the back of a chair – the occupant of which was none to happy to be disturbed from his meal. Jack glared back at the man, and there may have been a rude gesture involved, but I couldn't really tell from where I was sitting.

He glanced over at me and, when we made eye contact, he jerked his head in the direction of a small booth in the back corner. I looked back over at my friends in the booth, nodding at them, as I slid out of the booth, "I'll see you guys later, send my food over will you?"

"Yeah, sure," Racetrack agreed, nodding over at me.

I joined Jack in the booth, taking in his appearance. He still looked exhausted but there was an excitement in his eyes as well. I desperately wanted to know what he'd gotten himself into, but first things first…

I pulled a piece of paper and a pen out of my bag, sliding the two objects across the table to him.

"What's this?" He asked, shooting me a look of confusion.

"This is the note from my father, excusing me from school today, that you're going to write," I replied.

"Why can't you write it?"

"Well, for one, because Mr. Harding will recognize my handwriting. For another, it's your fault I'm not at school, so it's only fair."

Jack made a face, but picked up the pen anyways. "Alright, what should it say?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I've never had to excuse my son from school before."

Jack rolled his eyes at me. "You want this done right?"

He had a point. I told him what to write, occasionally spelling a word for him, and after a few minutes I had a passable excuse note. "Here, I'll sign it. I think I can get pretty close to his signature."

He slid the paper back to me, and I took it, signing it before folding it carefully and placing it between the pages of one of my books for safe keeping. The waiter came and placed my food in front of me, taking Jack's order as he did so.

Jack waited till the waiter had disappeared again, and then reached into his pocket, pulling out a piece of newspaper. It was ragged on the edges, as if he'd ripped it out. He unfolded it carefully, turning it so the article was facing me. "Take a look at this, Dave," he said in a low voice, jabbing his finger at the headline.

I squinted in the dim light, leaning forward to better see the article. "'Millionaire robbed at knifepoint, suspect on the loose.' Yeah, so what? I saw it this morning," I replied before pausing. "Wait, I thought you didn't sell today."

"I didn't. Look, focus Dave, focus! Look at what was stolen." He pointed an ink stained finger at the bottom of the article.

There was a small picture of a gemstone and a caption; again I began to read aloud. "Unset gemstone is said to be worth thousands of dollars." I whistled at that. "Must be some huge gem. But what's the deal? What does this have to do with anything?"

Jack's hands were shaking as he pulled the envelope out of his pocket. He glanced around, as if to make sure nobody was watching, then turned the envelope upside down, catching it's contents in his hand.

Let me tell you, I'm not the kind of person that curses. If my mother caught me cursing, I think she'd actually make me wash my mouth out with soap. I never had to worry about it, though, because I'm a pretty clean mouthed person, even after hanging around with Jack and the boys.

But, as soon as I saw the object in Jack's hands, I cursed. Loudly. Which elicited several disapproving stares from the lunchtime crowds. I ignored them, and Jack closed his fist over the gem. He glared at me, kicking me under the table. "Keep it down, will you?"

I dug my hand into my hair, pretty sure I was in shock. I repeated the word, softer this time, but seemingly unable to pull up any of the rest of my vocabulary.

"Yeah, you said that already, got anything else?" Jack asked, rolling his eyes.

I stared at him for a moment; I couldn't believe he was acting so nonchalant about this. "Jeez, Jack! What do you think you're doing?! You're the suspect?!" My voice was rising again and Jack shot me a warning look across the table.

"Dave," Jack shot me a warning look.

I lowered my voice to a loud whisper, "You robbed that guy?!"

"No, of course I didn't!" Jack actually looked offended at the accusation. "I just happened to be in the right place at the right time."

I must have stared at him for a complete minute, before I could force any sensible words out of my mouth "The right place, at the right time?" I asked, my voice cracking. That seemed to me to be right up there with 'just improving the truth a little'.

"Listen," Jack said, leaning forward, still speaking in that low voice, "I saw it happen, the mugging, I mean. The old man was just walking down the street, and out of nowhere these two guys jump out. They grab him, one on each arm, right? And they drag him into the alley. They fought for a minute, but the guy was older, and he wasn't much of a fighter. Some uppity up from the Upper East Side, ya know? Anyways, I think he passed out or somethin' because suddenly he was out cold, layin' in the middle of the alley. The guys start pickin' his pockets, and one of them finds this." He lifted his closed fist off the table and then seemed to think better of keeping it out. He dropped it back into the envelope and placed that back into this shirt pocket.

"So, anyways," He continued, when I didn't say anything, "they start arguin', these two. I couldn't hear what it was about, but I can only assume they were yackin' about the gem. And suddenly one of 'em rips out a knife, and stabs the other one. Stabs em!" Jack was talking fast now, and I was barely keeping up with his story.

"Wait, you saw all this late last night?"

"Yeah. Well, not that late, but it was dark out. Maybe it was around six or seven. But anyways, the first guy, the one that did the stabbing, he was the one that had taken the gem off the old guy. But, man, Davey, this guy must've been a real idiot, because as he's leaving the alley, he drops it. Drops it! Can you believe it! I waited till he was gone, and then I picked it up. But here's the thing. I think he might have seen me. I ain't sure, but I was freaked. So, I got that envelope, and put the gem in there, and I hid it."

I sat back in my seat, actually feeling a little bit nauseous. "You sent me. To pick up that envelope. Because you thought if you went you might get recognized."

"Don't look like that, Davey, nobody woulda been looking for your ugly mug, just mine. I couldn't go back. Besides, the guy obviously didn't know he'd dropped it, not at first anyways. And I ain't too sure if he saw me or not. I couldn't really tell. It was dark, and you shoulda seen his face, Dave. The guy was in shock. Even if he did see me, I'm not sure if it registered, ya know?"

I felt light-headed; I couldn't believe we were having this discussion. I couldn't believe he'd gotten me to get that envelope for him. I was involved in a robbery!

"Hey, you okay, Dave?" Jack asked, reaching across the table, and giving my shoulder a shake. "You don't look too good."

"Jack! Do you realize how serious this is?!" I asked, not sure that everything had fully sunk in for Jack. "You're not planning on keeping it, are you? I mean, you can't, you've gotta turn it into the police."

"The bulls?! No way!" Jack looked at me as if I'd just sprouted a second head. "That guy, whoever he was, doesn't need it. If he did, he wouldn't have been carrying it around in his pocket at night. Besides, you shoulda seen the guy. His suit was worth more than your life."

"What, so you're going to keep it?" I asked, my eyes widening incredulously.

"No…" Jack said slowly, looking thoughtful, "what use do I have for a chunk of rock? I'm gonna sell it."

"Gonna sell what?"

Both of us jumped at the voice, and I could see Jack's face pale sickeningly, making the dark circles under his eyes stick out even more. I watched him, waiting to see how he was going to handle this one.