"Caaaarloooos!" Cecil calls as he skids into the Forensics department.

"I'm literally sitting right here, Cecil," the scientist answers, glancing up from a results sheet with an amused smile.

Cecil is unfazed. "Guess what, guess what!"

"What, Cecil, you'll have to tell me."

"I got assigned to a serial killer!"

Carlos' face falls into a mask of serious concern. "What? When? How many so far?"

"Just now! And only three, we're hoping to catch him before any more people die," Cecil says, his face falling into grim lines.

"Wow, Cee, that's a pretty big deal. Are you sure you'll be okay? Serial killers really don't tend to have that much restraint, I mean you could get really hurt," Carlos makes a valiant effort, but fails to keep the concern out of his voice.

Cecil just rolls his (gorgeous) eyes at him. "Of course, Carlos, I'm very qualified. I know how to do my job."

"Sorry, I know you do, it's just that-" He stops himself before his sentence can reach the point of no return. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. "It's just, uh, I would really hate it if you got hurt?"

Wow, Carlos, way to be a good friend. You should get an award or something.

Cecil's face softens. "Oh Carlos, it's so sweet of you to worry, but I'll be fine! This isn't my first time at the vaguely metaphorical rodeo."

"Yeah, I know, just be careful, alright?"

"I will be."

It's almost four full days before Cecil comes into Forensics again, which is unusually long for him, especially when he has a case.

"Carlos, we have a tissue sample and a fingerprint, can we get the results back by Saturday?"

"Sure, Cee. You alright? Any closer to finding them?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, we are! We've already pinpointed a pattern and a murder weapon, so tracking her from here should be easy enough. It's a lot easier than it should be, actually. Everyone else thinks it's just carelessness." Cecil rolls his eyes. "Especially Steve Carlsburg. Ugh. But I think she wants to be caught, you know? Like she's showing off or something."

Carlos nods. "That's fairly common among serial killers, as far as I can tell."

"Very true, perfect Carlos," Cecil says a bit dreamily. "I really wish I could stay and chat like normal, but I have to get back to the team. Intern Jerry is training today, and I volunteered to pop in and show him a few things before we work on our next lead. I'll see you later."

And with that, Cecil breezes out of the lab. Carlos smiles and shakes his head, turning back to preparing the tissue sample for testing. He'll realize later that Cecil called him "perfect," but think nothing of it. Cecil was full of weird things, what difference does one potentially-romantic thing make in the scheme of things?

Cecil is very, very excited. Which is to say, very nervous, because he's literally about to go face down a murderer. And as much as he questions his own purpose and existence, his mortality has very suddenly come flying back in his face. One shot in the right place and Cecil will just cease to exist.

He sucks in a breath and pulls out his radio, thumbing the shiny spot on the side that's been worn smooth from fidgeting.

"This is Palmer, I have eyes on the suspect, over."

The crackling, radio-static voice of Officer Josie comes over the line. "This is Josie, we copy. Make sure she doesn't hightail it, over."

"You got it. Give me backup at the South and the East entrances, please. I've got North. Over." Cecil flicks the volume dial to mute and sticks it on his belt before padding silently into the open warehouse door. He swiftly ducks behind some conveniently-placed crates and looks around them to the middle of the warehouse. A tall woman in plain jeans and a Nirvana t-shirt is standing over a man who's tied to a chair, topless. She is playing with a knife in one hand and holding up a packet of paper in the other, a pen clutched casually between her teeth.

Cecil holds his breath, praising the masters above that she hasn't noticed him and cursing his luck at her placement. In this position he can see that he doesn't have a clear shot, even as he draws his handgun from the holster at his hip with steady fingers. She doesn't turn around, but she also doesn't move, and Cecil is getting pretty frustrated. Honestly, all he wants to do is take this lady down, and her lack of cooperation is making things very hard.

"Detective, please step out from the shadows and put its gun back where it belongs," the woman says at last, a thick but unidentified accent coating her words. Cecil murmurs a quiet "Fuck," and stands up, flicking the safety back on his gun and shoving it back in its holster. His hand hovers near it, ready to draw at any second.

"What is your name, officer? Your real name, if you please, and I will know if you are lying."

Cecil glares at her. "Palmer."

"Palmer," she purrs, eyes still on her paper. "What a charming name. Tell me, Mr. Palmer, do you have anyone special in your life right now?"

The question catches him utterly off-guard. "That is really none of your business, ma'am," he answers smoothly, his voice slipping into the smooth, low pitch he uses for official business and bedroom talk.

The smile she gives him as she looks up is sharp, small, and deadly. "My decision against throwing this knife into your heart really does depend on your answer, Mr. Palmer. I will not ask again so politely."

Cecil's brain is leaping at a speed he never would have thought possible as he considers his answer. On one hand, he has a 50% chance of not having a large piece of steel thrown into his heart if he answers, and on the other, he has absolutely nothing. He goes for option A.

"No," he says slowly, drawing out the word into several questioning syllables.

"Then I have no qualms about killing you," she says, her voice and face suddenly blank as she draws the knife back and flicks her wrist with deadly precision. In a haze of adrenaline and utter madness, Cecil has his gun out and with the safety off before she can say the fifth word of her sentence. The knife is tossed at the exact moment his single shot rings through the warehouse, and he doesn't have enough time to dodge properly or even see if he hit anything. Pain splits his entire left side and his vision goes black.