When I slipped back into consciousness the next morning, it was to find an angel had woken we up. Or, well, the closest thing to an angel I'd probably ever see.

Lissa, refined in white heels, a matching button-down coat, and a jade dress, was leaning over me, her concern vivid. By the cup of herbal tea in her hands, I knew she was getting a jump-start to her day (caffeine-free) and had just gotten into work- not expecting to see me dead-asleep at my desk. Really though, she should have expected anything from me by now. "What are you doing, sleeping here? Don't tell me you pulled an all-nighter just to search for evidence!"

It was scary how well she knew me sometimes. Raising my head from my crossed arms over top my desk, I ran a hand through my tangled hair, blinking uncomfortably as sunlight streamed in through the windows. "What time is it?" I asked, my voice muffled from exhaustion.

"It's already eight." By the note in her voice, it was clear she considered that too late to be sleeping in. For me, having crashed at five in the morning, it was way too early.

I stifled a yawn and stretched my arms overhead like a cat, my aching back complaining at the motion. I really had to stop sleeping wherever I pleased. "I was reviewing old cases with Dashkov. Evidence, connections, my testimony, and all of that."

Lissa's worry grew. "Rose... you don't have to take this case, I'm sure Stan or someone else could-"

"No," I stated firmly. "I'm catching this copycat bastard and throwing him in jail where he belongs."

"But-"

I stood up, shaking my head to prove she couldn't change my mind before giving her a small smile. "Don't worry, Liss, I can take care of myself. Hey, I'll even be careful."

I could tell she wasn't convinced, but let it go and changed topics."You should clean up soon. No offense, but you look awful. Also. . ." she hesitated, before continuing, "I heard Alberta's pulling in an FBI agent. He's coming in today."

I actually didn't take offense- I could have guessed my disastrous appearance- but was caught off guard at the end. "Why, because of the murder?" It was the only reasonable guess I could come up with. Even then though that was a flimsy reason, and I knew it. Murders happened all the time, sad but true. This was Boston after all.

Lissa shrugged. "I don't know much, only that he's some badass you'll want to impress. Mia's running around making sure everyone's in line." She paused again, a keen glint in her eyes. "Do you think it's someone you know?"

Lissa knew almost everything about me, including my rocky history. I'd almost become an FBI agent myself. As soon as I'd met the 22-year old age requirement, I'd taken the first assessments and passed the with flying colors. However, when I got to the academy, due to my unusual young age and huge advantage in physical training, I was given a different level of challenge- which included a personal teacher.

One of the only things I'd never told Lissa was my relationship with Dimitri. I brushed over the name once in a while, but that was the extent of it. To her and the rest of the world, he was simply my mentor. Which was exactly how I liked it, and how I hoped it stayed.

During the last stretch of time before graduation, I abruptly dropped out of the program. I didn't tell anyone why, only giving a simple shrug when they asked. Even Kirvana, the bitchy head of the academy, was aghast at my leaving when I was "the best of the best". I could understand their confusion, but firmly refused to give a reason until they gave up and let me go. I settled for becoming part of the police force, following Lissa to her hometown and later raising my status to detective. Of course, I still kept my contacts within the FBI, Dimitri excluded.

I shrugged, as way of answer. "Don't know really. I haven't been keeping many tabs on them. But who knows?" Fate, as I'd come to know, worked in damned mysterious ways.

She looked disappointed at my vague reply, but accepted it nonetheless. She'd probably hoped to share stories about me over tea and coffee. Lord. It was like high school all over again. Her lips twitched into a small smile as she looked at me and said, "I wasn't joking about Mia being on a rampage. You know how she is with the superiors."

Oh, did I ever. Mia was usually pretty level-headed, but was still the head of my unit. She was the one that took the heat from the higher-ups and had made it clear countless times how I should appear in front of them. I glanced down at my disheveled clothing. "Christ, she'll kick me out all day if she sees me like this."

"Which is why I told you to clean up."

I groaned. "At least this place has a shower." A homicide detective's perks. I eyed Lissa. "You wouldn't happen to have some makeup and a change of clothes, would you?"

She did. This was Lissa Dragomir after all, always thinking ahead. And, like the gracious best friend she was, rooted through her office and offered powder (why she kept one in my shade was beyond me), mascara, and eyeliner, my elation soaring at my good fortune. It stumbled a little when she presented her extra outfit. "That... I can't go to work in that."

"Sure you can! Not to mention it's a sure-fire way of impressing our mysterious guest."

"Key word, mysterious. We don't even know if it's a girl or guy," I pointed out. "And either way, I'm not going to try to seduce my boss. Even I know not to cross that line." How times changed.

"Not seduce, impress. Big difference," Lissa assured. Her optimism amazed me sometimes. "Besides, wearing a dress won't kill you."

No, but it would definitely kill whatever remained of my own badass aura. I sighed and shook my head. "Thanks, but I think I'll stick with this." Admittedly, the mahogany dress hanging next to her desk was cute, and I'd probably look great in it, but it was more of a clubbing outfit than one you'd interrogate killers in. I was pretty sure Mia wouldn't be thrilled seeing me in my same attire, but would roll with it better than if I showed up about to go to a frat party.

Twenty minutes later, I reemerged into my department looking like a decent human being, feeling more at peace after getting cleaned up. Mason was already at his post, glancing up at my arrival with his usual easy-going smile. I could tell it was slightly forced though, not quite reaching his eyes. No doubt he was cautious about how I was doing after the nightmare I'd experienced yesterday. Always observant, he also took note of the papers sprawled haphazardly on my desk and my refusal to change. "You didn't go home yesterday? Even you need your beauty sleep once in a while, Rose. Though you still look devastating without it, of course."

I smiled back at him, appreciating his attempt at our normal banter. He knew I didn't like people acting careful around me. I'd rather they say things flat-out instead of protecting me, like I was fragile enough to break. "Hey, have to keep you on your toes," I answered flippantly, throwing my jacket over my chair. I looked around. "Where's Mia? Still with Mister secret agent?"

He seemed surprised I knew about the FBI arrival. "You heard. Yes, last I checked. She's pretty stressing out about looking good in front of him. She's probably showing him around now."

Huh. I frowned slightly, brooding. Most of the time Alberta gave us a better heads-up than just mindless gossip to flit around the office. Something was off here. Then again, I could just be reading too much into it. "Who's this guy supposed to be anyway?"

Mason knew about as much as Lissa did, if not less. He shrugged haplessly. "No clue. All I know is I'm staying out Mia's way until she's done dressing to impress."

I chuckled, imagining little doll-like Mia forcing Mason into suit and gagging him with the tie. I'd have to plant that idea in her head sometime. "You brave-hearted man. Well, I don't exactly intend to cozy up to them either right now. I better grab some coffee though, just in case I do end up facing them. You need anything?"

"Naw, just be sure to hurry. Mia won't be happy if you bail on the introduction."

"Will do," I said. Taking the steps two at a time (a pain, since I was still in my heels), I quickly arrived at the quaint cafe upstairs and saw it was relatively empty, the short line and lingering patrons abuzz with conversation. Strolling over, I checked my phone, realizing I hadn't glanced at it since I'd talked to Mason in the car.

Five new messages and seven missed calls welcomed me. Oops. I scrolled through the texts first, a little caught off guard that one of them was from Janine Hathaway, my not-so-warm-and-fuzzy mother. She had heard about the Dashkov case from her "sources". Literally, that's what she said. Her "sources". It was like we were in a bad spy movie. I shook my head in wonder as I continued through my list of angry messages and voice mails from Sydney. I could probably go to trial with some of the threats she sent me.

I tucked my cell away, resolving to call her back later. After the guy in front of me- Eddie, I faintly recalled- happily left, doughnut in hand, I ordered my coffee and waited while the cashier rung me up.

Try as I might, my weary thoughts continually drifted back to Victor Dashkov. My all-nighter had proved of little help, turning up no new information, only old scars. I sighed, hating how literal that was. Tangling with a psycho killer hadn't left me unscathed. But, considering I could have ended up like Dr. Colbe, I was lucky to still be breathing.

My phone, buzzing violently, brought me stumbling out of my thoughts. I picked it up just as the gruff cashier handed me my coffee, a small, grateful smile playing on my lips. I would have smiled at just about anyone that could whip up my mocha. "Hathaway," I answered, turning and gingerly sipping the scolding drink. Ugh. Needed more sugar.

"Rose! About time you answered. I've left you like thirty messages, where have you been?" Ah, Sydney Sage, as charismatic as ever. She'd taken the liberty of calling me back herself.

"What, you don't know? Aren't you supposed to be all-powerful, Sydney? I thought that's what you're line of work called for."

"Ha, cute." Apparently she didn't find my early morning humor as funny as I did. "Look, first you bailed on dinner then-"

"Whoa, whoa, you know I didn't have a choice back then," I said, thinking it was a little unfair for her to play that card. She'd skipped out on plenty of our get-togethers without so much as a sticky note. Once I'd waited hours in the airport for her arrival, even falling asleep (and losing my lone designer bag in the process), only to find out she'd been pulled for a mission. I was still skeptical how her phone mysteriously kept breaking down during those times."If you wanted bonding time that badly, you should have come to the crime scene. It was right up your alley."

"Right," she said dryly. "Because the first thing local PD wants to see is an assassin freeloading on their ground."

I shrugged. "I would have gotten you clearance. Maybe. Somehow." I was pretty sure there was a back entrance I could have snuck her through. I put the phone in the crook of my shoulder as I dumped two sugar packets into my coffee. Reconsidering, I added a third. "Anyway, I'm guessing you heard about the Dashkov thing?"

Her attitude dried up. She was all business again. "Yeah. I did. Did you find anything out? No doubt you were scouting around the past 12 hours."

Geez. Was I that much of an open book? I sighed. "No, not much. I checked with the guards at the prison. Victor's still under heavy lock and key and they swear up and down he wasn't out of his jail cell yesterday, even for yard work. He hasn't made a call or met with someone since the 3rd of last month. It just doesn't add up." Of course I already knew Victor hadn't broken out of jail. That news would have spread like wildfire. He'd probably be the biggest hit on the 10 Most Wanted board in a long time. I hesitated, then deciding it couldn't hurt, asked, "What do you make of it, Syd?" She was high intelligence, she could brainstorm some kind of answer, right?

She gave one of her famous, exasperated sighs. "I don't know, Rose. You know him better than I do at this point." I winced, but she continued, obliviously. "My best guess? He's got an apprentice, someone he trained. There's no way he did this with his own hands, but I don't think it was just some nut off the streets that copied his moves either."

"An apprentice..." I murmured. Not a copycat, but someone he took under his wing. My mind kicked into overdrive as I grasped onto Sydney's theory, shoving my sluggish lack of sleep out of the way. Victor was a doctor formally, which is why his cutting was so acute when it came to slicing people's jugulars- and why he was always a prime suspect when someone's throat was slit. He was an ace in his field before he got kicked out of his university, and clearly had maintained his skills. See one, do one, teach one: that's what they taught you in medical school. Lissa could vouch for that along with the rest of her department. Victor was also pretty damn smart. In my crazy roller coaster of a life, I always pictured him as an evil mastermind. If he had taught someone to kill before he was locked away, that person would know all of his tricks, how to kill, how to hide, how to leave the perfect trail...

A trail that would be led me right back to Victor.

I shot up ramrod-straight, almost knocking over my coffee in the process. I hadn't even realized I'd sworn out loud until I noticed it had earned me a dirty look from the grandpa-aged cashier. Sydney's startlement on the other end tipped me off, too. "What's wrong?" she demanded uncertainly, as if afraid I'd just been taken out by a Dashkov-trained army. In reality, that wasn't too far out there. If there was one thing Victor wanted, it was me. To finish what he started.

"I think you're right Sydney," I said quickly, fumbling to grab my mocha before rushing back downstairs.

I'd lost her. "Right about what?"

"Victor! He has an apprentice!" All of the puzzle pieces were clicking together. "It explains everything. He still wants to kill me, don't you get it? He's trying to lure me out by sending someone else to do his dirty work."

The idea that innocent people had to die just for him to finish his twisted game made me feel sick, even responsible. I hadn't been the one to end their lives, true, but I was the reason. I didn't know who was listening, but I sent a quick, silent prayer that we would find Gabrielle alive. They didn't deserve this. I was the one he wanted dead.

"Hey, whoa, Rose, calm down. It was just a theory," Sydney protested. I decided that was a humble understatement. It might not be set in stone yet, but it was a marvelous deduction on her part. If I wasn't so pent-up crazy with everything going on, I would have whooped in excitement at the break through.

Even though I didn't start dancing in the hallway, I still found myself grinning like a goofy idiot as I ran. Some people I passed gave me an odd look, probably wondering why I was smiling in light of recent events. "Just wait Sydney Sage, that theory's going to become fact soon, I'm sure of it. God, I could kiss you right now. Well, no, not that far. But you're definitely getting a hug from me when I see you."

I don't think Sydney was all that disappointed in missing my kiss. I never found out for sure though. I could hear her making some sarcastic remark on her end, but only caught her biting tone, not her words. My attention was diverted, rapt ahead on a man who'd just stepped out of the hallway. A guy I just barely stopped myself from running into, my coffee sloshing messily as I stumbled to a halt in front of him.

His eyes reflected minor surprise at my appearance, but his growing smile said that not much about me surprised him anymore. I was the one staring up in disbelief at the older, suit-clad man. "Mark?" I exclaimed.

I couldn't believe it. You'd think with all the insanity running around, a surprise visit would be the last thing to catch me off guard. Mark was a guy creeping close to 50 and happily married, his brown hair giving way to a George Clooney, salt-and-pepper look. He also happened to be one of my old teachers- one I often treated as a fatherly figure. He laughed. "You act like you've seen a ghost, Rose. Has it been that long?"

I could feel my old grin return and, before I could stop myself, threw myself into a hug with him, disregarding Sydney and the hot beverage in my hands. By some miracle it didn't spill. "Mark!" I said, still at an uncharacteristic loss of words. He laughed again and spun me around. He really was a father in the making. I hoped he had kids soon. (The clock was running out in that department). When he set me down, we'd switched positions, this time my back facing the open door. Eagerly, I asked, "What are you doing here? I haven't seen you in years!"

His smile crinkled his eyes. "I'm on duty. The FBI wanted me in."

I brightened more, if possible. "You're the one going to be working with us?" I might be walking on eggshells when it came to my relationship with the FBI, but I could definitely work with Mark. In fact, he could probably help more than anyone else they could have sent.

To my disappointment though, he shook his head. "No, I'm afraid I'm only escorting today."

Bemusement flickered across my features, dimming my excitement a little. Since when was the FBI a delivery service? My old worries crept back, but I tried to hide it, keeping my tone light. "Oh? And who exactly are you escorting? Or is that a secret, too?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but another voice cut him off. A voice that made me freeze and lock up, ice and heat crawling over my skin in a flash. A voice I hadn't heard in 5 years. "Roza?"

My eyes snapped open and I whipped around so fast, I could have passed for having vampire-enhanced reflexes. Mark flinched in the background, but he didn't. He never did. His shock was a mirror of mine, incredulity nailing us to the floor as we stared at one another in the hallway. His silhouette took up the entire height and width of the door frame, the air around him clinging with that pine-like aftershave I could have identified a mile away.

No. No, no, no. This wasn't happening. My senses were playing a trick on me.

I was about to write it off as a hallucination, a fallacy from the result of my overactive imagination and tired, senseless thoughts clashing. Because, bottom line, this could not be real. It just couldn't. My nostalgic daydreams were being manifested into a screwy (albeit gorgeous) phantom of my old teacher and companion. That was all there was to it. Simple. Case closed.

But, before I could fully convince myself I'd lost it and needed serious time in therapy, Mia appeared behind him, pleasant air the last thing I expected with the impossible scene before her. A thousand questions sprung into my mind, but they were as jumbles as my emotions and I couldn't voice any of them. I just kept staring at him, lips parted with no words coming out. I don't think I could pry my eyes away or make a coherent sentence to save my life.

Mia glanced between us, finally seeming to pick up that she'd stumbled onto something big. I hadn't realized how dense she could be. That was usually Sydney's job in the dating game. By then I gained enough presence of mind to clamp my lips together, swallowing, though our gaze remained locked together. I'd forgotten how easily it was to fall into that endless, dark sea. Slowly, I turned away to Mia, silently pleading that she had some idea what in the living hell was going on here. God knows I didn't. In fact, I probably could have passed the part of looking like someone that needed to be shut inside a mental asylum, delusion or no.

Mia hesitated. It was a measure of how well I rolled with (and dealt with) craziness that I didn't pass out as she gestured to Dimitri and uneasily said, "Well, Rose, I see you've met the new addition to our team."

Ohoho, and Dimitri Belikov enters the scene once again- though I'm positive all of you could have seen that one coming. Let's face it, there's no VA story if our main couple isn't it. Hopefully this chapter wasn't too rushed, I tend to jump the gun on scene setting and getting straight to the action. Can you blame me with these two?