A/N: I worked hard on the previous chapter, this one might be one of my better ones, we'll see C: I hope you like! By the way, I'm picking lines from songs by the band Atreyu
Disclaimer: C'mon, do I have to post this all the time? We all know I don't own anyone except Isabella and her family 8D
Fade it out into the light
All these years
We'll never get it right
I need to let it go
I need to let it go
I need to let it go
No more reasons to deny
That I believed that you were mine
I need to let it go
I need to let it go
I need to let it go
I wish you'd let me go
Cavo — Let It Go
Don led Isabella back up to the room. Mac pointed to the bloody scrawl on the bathroom mirror.
"Vis me tenuerunt cum quid feci. Latin. 'Will you still hold me when you see what I have done?'" he said. Isabella nodded.
"It's part of his MO. I never know what the lines mean, but apparently, they're of some great importance to him. He draws them with his finger on random surfaces. At the brownstone in the Upper East side, it was written on a mirror on a mantle, this time it was written on a bathroom mirror. The mirror at the brownstone read 'Death won't hold you as tight as she will'", she replied. Don wanted to know about Armando, he was a Mafia leader, but seemed to keep things down. Seemingly in the business of retaliation.
"Jay Maxwell has changed his appearance and kept out of sight of the cameras. We've got major trouble with him that does not seem to be going away soon", he said.
"Jay Maxwell is major trouble. He needs psychiatric help, but his brother doesn't seem to be talkin'", Isabella agreed. She crossed her arms, surveying the scene. She was the only one of them all who would know what was out of place.
"He switches his murder weapons", Mac said. The body of Jenny Vernon had been moved to the ME's office.
"So he can't be traced. He picked a murder weapon this time that disposes of itself", Isabella replied. Everyone jumped a bit at the sound of loud banging on the door.
"Someone let me in, my daughter was in there!" a male voice yelled. Isabella looked at Don, a slightly confused look on her face. The trio walked out to see a tall man in his early forties jumping against the uniforms.
"Sir, this is a crime scene", Don called. He wasn't about to let someone contaminate their progress. Isabella walked up, her hands up.
"Whoa there, pal. This is a crime scene, you can't be here", she said.
"What happened to my daughter? What happened to my Jenny?" the man asked desperately. Isabella's eyes were soft.
"If you'll meet me outside of the room, I will explain what is going on", she said. The young CSI followed the man out.
"I'll just be a minute", she called. Don nodded.
"It'll be a shame to see her go. She's a good cop", Mac noted, pulling a print off of the mirror.
"Yeah, she's good", he agreed. The door opened and Isabella walked back in, shaking her head.
"I really hate that part. Telling victims' families they're not gonna see their loved ones anymore", she said. Her aqua eyes seemed haunted.
"Hey, we'll take it from here if you want to sleep. You've had a very long night", Mac suggested. She shook her head.
"This is actually helping. I may take you up on that offer of sleep later, though", she replied. Don leaned against the doorway.
"I'm off now, if it's cool. O'Reilly should be here soon, though", he said, pointing with his thumb to the door.
"See you later, Flack", Isabella said, snapping a picture of the mirror.
"Have a good night, Don", Mac added. Don turned and walked out, feeling exhaustion wash over him. The subway ride to his apartment in Brooklyn almost caused him to fall asleep on his feet. He'd been on the clock for thirty-six hours. Jumbling the key into his lock, he finally prized the door open and collapsed on his bed, fully clothed.
Dreams came swiftly, all about the same person. Jess. The third anniversary of her death was coming soon and it haunted him as per usual. Yet, the events of that day weren't the dream. He and Jess were sitting in chairs, facing each other. Everything was blank around them, it was just the two of them in the chairs. It was hard to believe this was a dream. Jess' face was so clear, so realistic. In other dreams, she appeared like a flash, then everything was blank. Never before had Don seen Jess so plainly as she was when she was alive.
"So, I hear you're not moving on", Jess said, sitting cross-legged in the chair and looking at him.
"I'm trying", Don protested.
"No, you're not", she replied matter-of-factly. Her big brown eyes fixed on him and he knew she was right. He hadn't been trying.
"I don't have an excuse", he admitted.
"Good, because you would've come up with a crap one anyways. We loved each other and I want you to be happy. I can't be happy until you are truly happy", she replied, leaning forward so they were inches apart.
"Then who do you have planned for me?" Don asked, annoyed.
"I can't tell you, because it takes all the fun out of falling in love! All I can tell you, is you've already met the perfect woman for you and you need to open your mind and heart to her", Jess replied, faking an ominous tone. He gave her a look.
"Okay, sorry sorry. But how do I already know her? Is it Devoneigh?" he asked.
"God, no! But being a guardian angel is fun. I just sort of exposed her true self to you", she replied with a smile. She patted his knee and stood up.
"I know I just got here, but I have to leave. Duty calls", she said. Don reached over to kiss her but she pressed a finger to his lips.
"Ah ah ah! You're supposed to be moving on. I'll always be with you, and I'll always love you. You'll never get over this, I know that, but you'll find a way to get through it. You're not completely through it yet", she said. She vanished quickly and Don jolted awake. The sun was shining through the window and the clock read eleven am.
'Wow, I didn't sleep as late as I thought. I got in around four, so I only had about seven hours of sleep', he thought. But he'd never felt more rested. It was time to get up and get his day started.