Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far, and added me to their alerts and favourites! Sorry this has been a while in coming. I've been back at work this week and just too tired after having tonsilitis when I've eventually got home.

Hope you enjoy - please review and let me know what you think, bad or good, all comments welcome!

Thanks to Juliette for reviewing, and Lily for reading!

Chapter 16

Sun Breaks

The sun is a jealous fool, ceasing lovers' touches as it breaks through windows and creeps into the eyes of those who wish for the night to remain. It has no partner, no lover, no true companion, and instead interferes in the lives of others, impeding touches; removing the caress of a finger with its wake up call; and bringing an end to the night, whose dark cover gives permission for that lover's touch.

Mac woke alone, a sheet wrapped round his torso, the duvet discarded in his sleep. The super still hadn't sorted the heating system; it was way too hot, too early and his apartment now felt like a sauna.

He checked his cell for the time: 7:10. He'd managed two and half hours sleep, which was about average, and was enough to refresh him. He'd know other ex-marines who struggled to sleep for any long periods of time, mainly to do with the short periods they were allowed when on active service. And you didn't sleep properly. When yours and the lives around you were under constant threat you slept with both ears and an eye open. Two and a half hours was enough.

-&-

Aneka Lebovitz hadn't particularly considered the sun during the last 24 hours. Instead, she'd been rather more concerned with staying alive. Rachael McKinsey had called her several times, insisting on a meeting, and Aneka had certainly known what she would want to discuss during that meeting.

There wasn't any reason for a conversation, really. Aneka had no intentions of talking to the police. She was quite happy with what she did, passing on details of students who were being counselled for being depressed, and she was quite happy with the extra income she received for that. She'd been more than happy to arrange for Tailor Raimo to be in Brian Goddard's office at a certain time, but she hadn't known why. If she'd have realised what Rachael was going to do, she'd have kept well out of it.

And now she was well in it. Rachel would more than likely want to make sure she wasn't capable of saying another word, and the police would want her to say plenty.

She looked at the officer who sat down in front of her. He was somewhere in his forties, she guessed, with blue eyes that looked steel-like. Last night she'd dealt with a detective called Bonasera, a nice enough woman, who'd promised all sorts of safety, but Aneka knew promises wouldn't work against Rachael.

"Hi, Ms Lebowitz," the officer began. "I'm Detective Mac Taylor and I need to ask you a few questions."

She stared at him, hard. She had no intensions of answering any questions. If they took her into custody for stopping a police inquiry or whatever it was called then so be it. She'd be safe in custody.

"Do you know a man called David Rostow?" Detective Taylor said. His tone was soft, as if he was talking to a child.

"No," Aneka said, looking him straight in the eye.

""Do you know a woman named Rachael McKinsey?"

"No," she said again. "I'm going to answer no to everything, Detective. Don't waste your time."

He eyed her oddly, clearly thinking about his next mode of attack.

"Ms Lebowitz, Rostow and McKinsey are suspected of being involved in several murders. We really need to stop them before they do more damage," he said, clearly trying to play on her conscience.

Aneka shrugged. "I don't know anything. I can't help you. Whatever my friend told you was clearly meant to mislead you. Or maybe he thought he was being helpful."

"So why did you miss you shift at work and hide in someone else's house for two days?" the detective said.

"I wasn't hiding. I was studying. My dorm was too noisy."

"Exams finished last week. What were you studying for?"

She mentally cursed herself. Exams had ended. She shrugged.

"I think you're scared, Aneka," Detective Taylor said. "If you're worried about what might happen to you if you help us, we can make sure that no one will hurt you."

"I don't know anything, Detective, so why should I be scared?" she said, folding her arms on the table and placing her head down on them. "I'm tired. Your girlfriend woke me up at some stupid time and I need some sleep. Maybe if you let me sleep I might think of something to help you."

"All we need is an address, Aneka. Where we can find Rachael or David. That's it," he stood up, surprising her. She'd thought that he would have tried to interrogate her more, tried to drag the information out of her, but he hadn't. "We're going to keep you on protective custody, Aneka, till we can be sure that you'll be safe. If there is anything that you need, just let one of my officers know, and they'll do their best to sort it out."

He left the room, leaving her to her thoughts. She looked up at the ceiling and began to consider what to do.

-&-

Stella woke up feeling exhausted. Her alarm hadn't yet gone off; instead she had been woken by the sun slipping in between her curtains, its bright light shining through her eyelids and waking her. She stumbled out of bed and pulled the curtains closer together, blocking the light. Then she slipped back between the soft sheets and closed her eyes, urging herself to sleep for the other hour that was owed to her. The night hadn't been easy, and she felt its pressures and stresses still weighting down her shoulders; weighing almost too much. She turned over, fighting to get comfortable and trying to shake thoughts about the case from her mind, but they kept ticking through, almost like nightmarish sheep.

Eventually, she sat up; her eyes feeling dry and tired. There was no way sleep was going to find her, not anytime soon. She pushed back the duvet and made her way to the bathroom, hoping that a shower would revive her senses enough to make the rest of what would be a long day bearable.

Her mind ticked over the case as she let the water soak her. She took her showers hot; as hot as she could stand. On one of the few occasions Mac had been in her apartment while she took a shower he had commented on the redness left on her skin, giving a very scientific explanation as to why showers shouldn't be that hot.

"It makes me feel alive," she'd said after he had finished. "What makes you feel like that?"

He'd ignored the sarcastic tone in her voice, and shrugged, looking lonely and out of reach. She'd wanted to hug him then, but had refrained and offered coffee instead, the red blotches on her chest cooling down to their normal shade.

Today her thoughts were not with Mac. Instead she was creating a timeline, a timeline of the dates she had seen Sam outside of work. She'd met him on several occasions, not far from her apartment, and always close to JoJo's Coffee Shop, the place she frequented for her bagels in the morning. He'd been in there on many occasions, and she'd always assumed it was because of a girlfriend as he lived at the other side of the precinct from where she did.

The shower served its purpose, and she headed into work with clearer objectives than she'd had before a little sleep had found her. Maybe the key to staying awake was taking hot showers, and Mac was merely the exception that proved the rule.

-&-

Hawkes dusted the handle for prints before opening the door, although given the commotion that had greeted the finding there was going to be a lot of elimination to do. The room he entered was basic, but clearly furnished with money. His own dorm room had been barely a box containing two less than single beds and two desks, both carved upon by the previous occupants, and one possessing a drawer that always smelt a little suspicious. He had not lived the high life whilst at college, but clearly Maxwell Wilson III had.

The body was in bed, and looked to be sleeping to all intents and purposes. It was only when the eyes were viewed that death could be seen in all its grotesque glory.

It was part of the reason he'd escaped from the operating room to the morgue: the eyes. They were the mirrors of the soul, a saying whose origins he never knew, and he had watched patients' eyes as their soul had fallen away from them. Unable to be saved. So he'd changed, needing to find another way to save their souls.

Hawkes moved closer to the body, noting its similarities to how Sam had been left. Maxwell was naked, the thin white sheet left at the bottom of the double bed. Whoever had killed him hadn't bothered to cover him up afterwards, no remorse needed showing. Hawkes' eyes examined the chest, noting the sign of an injection directly to the heart. It was a method used by the Nazis, a cheap lethal injection. For Maxwell, there had been no expensive and indulgent death. Instead it had been quick, and painless and without struggle. But there had been no excitement or love of life beforehand, no potential had been fulfilled and the only memories he would leave behind were ones of sorrow and bitterness.

"Good morning, Sheldon," Hawkes heard Sid's voice as he entered the room. "I believe we have what may be another piece of handiwork by one of David Rostow's minions."

Hawkes stood up as Sid leant over the body, beginning his brief survey. "The skin around the mouth and nose is reddened, and pupils are dilated – as would be expected. There is some damage to the cornea… all suggesting that chloroform was used to subdue him before an intravenous inject was administered to the heart. Time of death was around 2 to 3 days ago, given the temperature in here and the signs of decomp." Sid clicked his glasses back around his neck, giving Hawkes a sign that he was done. Hawkes watched his expression and noted his pallor. Sam's death had taken its toll.

"It wasn't your fault, Sid," Hawkes said, wanting to offer some sympathy.

Hammerback shrugged. "I think everyone has a part to play. Nothing we could have done could have stopped what Sam was doing. If he'd told us it would have been a different matter."

Hawkes nodded, knowing that Sid was right. "You still shouldn't blame yourself." He also knew that Sid's words were lip service.

"It's difficult. I worked closely with him, yet still didn't spot the signs." Sid rubbed at his eyes and Hawkes wondered how much sleep he'd had.

"Sam could have been involved with Rostow even before he worked for you. You wouldn't have spotted anything different as you'd nothing to compare it to," Hawkes said. His words would be of little comfort, he knew, but he still had to do something to ease Sid's pain.

"I noticed that Sam wasn't looking too good these past couple of days, but put it down to this bug that's affected almost everyone," he shook his head. "And now we have another body. When is it going to stop, Sheldon?"

Hawkes' eyes gave the answer. They didn't know. And it could get worse before it got better.

-&-

Flack woke with the sun peering between his curtains and shining directly into his eyes. He muffled a groan and reached out an arm to push the curtain along, blocking out the annoying light. Back in the half darkness of early morning he saw Angell's form lying beside him, the sheets wrapped around her, her hair mussed on the pillow. A brief glance at the clock told him they had plenty of time left for sleeping.

He pushed all thoughts of the case from his mind, more interested in the contents of his bed. Memories of a few hours before still lingered like the last bars of the last song, played at a celebration when everyone else had gone home. For there were only him and her on the dance floor now; everyone else had left the building.

The sheets rose and fell with her breaths and he studied their rhythm, keeping her with him even in sleep. Her face was peaceful; any tense expressions had been left behind when sleep took her, and her body was free from the weight of the worries and drama of the hours before.

He wondered what she dreamed, and whether he was in them as he lay back down, his chest to her back, pushing her hair away with his hand so he wouldn't lie on it and hurt her when she moved. The almost black strands contrasted with the white of the pillow cases and his memory recalled Snow White.

His chin touched her shoulder and she stirred slightly, moving her legs closer to his. He could smell her hair, and the scent began to blossom into his dreams as he ignored the sun's calls and returned to sleep, allowing himself to walk into Hypnos' realm without fear, knowing that he would be released when he woke.

The sun continued to shine over the city, waking those fools who succumbed to its strict routine. There were others who chose to ignore his rays, keeping to patterns of their own, or, in some cases, patterns that were made for them, and they had no choice whether to follow them or not.

Thanks for reading! Please review - I could do with a little cheering up!