So this is weird, posting Ch13 on Friday the 13th...nothing can go wrong...right?

Anyway, thanks as always to everyone for your reviews to the last chapter, and for all of you still favoriting/following me. I appreciate all the support so much. Guest Elliot, thank you for the review, I'm glad you enjoy my AU stories, and that you felt strongly enough about it to let me know.

Again, it's been busy in real life, and I'm always afraid I'm not going to have something to post for you. So I hope you're happy with how things go, not so much action, but it can't always be fast and furious.

Chapter 13
Asking Questions

The next morning, Meredith was seated at her desk, when she caught a glimpse of Mark sidling past her as if he was trying to avoid talking with her. She grinned to herself, and let him get as far as his office before she jumped up and followed him. Stopping at his doorway, she leaned against it as he prepared to set down his coffee cup. "Morning boss, late night?" she smirked.

"Wha…? Damnit, Grey!" he muttered, spilling coffee over his fingers. "Don't you have work to do?"

"Sure, but I'm curious about your night with Anya. Did you have fun?"

Mark dropped into his chair tiredly, rubbing his temples. "What I can remember about it, yeah…some of the details are a little fuzzy."

Meredith laughed, and perched on the edge of his desk. "Ah, yes, drinking is always a good idea at the time. And look at that bruise on your throat, my my…" She couldn't resist teasing him in retaliation for what he'd said about Derek the day before. Even though so much had happened, it seemed like more than just 24 hours had passed.

"Fine, mock me now," he sighed, closing his eyes. "I'm just going to sit here and wait for my head to stop pounding."

"I'll tell everyone to be quiet," Meredith said sweetly.

"Go away." Mark cracked one eye open. "Wait, what happened with Shepherd?"

"He wasn't formally charged, and they let him go after his lawyer got there. I'm doing some digging into Callie Torres, the girl who showed up at the funeral." She and Derek had decided she should continue with that angle for now, while he talked to Richard about finding the owner of the painting. They weren't sure how much work Hunt would put into finding other suspects now that he had his sights on Derek, and wanted to try to keep ahead of the game.

"Mmm, all right, but don't spend too much time on it. There's other news going on you can cover."

"Sure. Did you read the piece I did last night?"

"Saw it. Good work."

"Oh, and by the way, the security guard needs to keep a better eye on things," Meredith said, getting to her feet. "Someone nearly mugged me in the parking lot last night."

"What?!" Mark sat up straight, wincing at the sudden movement. "What the hell happened?"

"I was caught by some guy who wants to feed me information about Derek's past. He threatened me if I don't go along with it, I'll be sorry." Meredith shivered a little, remembering the low voice hissing in her ear.

"Shit, I'll talk to the guard. That shouldn't be happening here. Are you hurt? Did you tell the cops?"

"I'm fine, and no, I didn't talk to the police. I told Derek, though."

Mark frowned. "You should still tell the cops."

"Um, no, I don't want to do that. I didn't get hurt and they'll just blow everything out of proportion."

"Okay, if you say so. My head hurts too much to think about it right now. I'm sorry I wasn't here to help you, Grey."

"I know, you were a little preoccupied."

"So are you going to take this information?"

"I can take it, but it doesn't mean I'm going to use it."

"I don't think I want to know what's going on with you and Shepherd," Mark sighed. "Somehow you're on his side now. Just be careful, all right?"

"I'm always careful," she murmured, patting his shoulder. "Talk to you later, boss."

Derek had been a little tired himself when he got home, but he went through his usual morning routines of a run and a long, hot shower. The previous evening had certainly been a rollercoaster of highs and lows, but he felt relieved that he told Meredith the truth about his past. As he dressed, he realized that he had been happy to be with her, and didn't feel the usual need to leave as he normally would with his other women in his past. She was smart, feisty and passionate about everything, and he didn't want anything to happen to her. Until this mess was fixed, he really had no right to expect more of their relationship.

As he took his morning coffee on the terrace, he mulled over the direction his life was taking. He spread the paper out in front of him, but he couldn't focus on the headlines, even though his arrest was front and center. Meredith's piece was front page in the Enquirer, and he scanned it quickly. She had been very fair in her coverage, he had to admit. He wondered briefly if his situation would mean any kind of impact on the dinner crowd tonight, but more than likely everyone would wonder if he would make an appearance. It would only add to his allure.

His cell phone interrupted his thoughts, and he was glad to see it was Richard calling. "Good morning, Richard."

"Derek, thank goodness you're not in jail. I spoke with Ms Grey last night, and she was quite upset at your arrest."

"It wasn't pleasant, but they released me after my lawyer made an appearance."

"Did they really have enough to even bring you in?"

"Enough I suppose. Kind of circumstantial in my view. You taught me well enough to know not to leave anything incriminating, so if I had been the one to commit the crime, there'd have been no trace of me. Damnit it, Richard, I wouldn't lose a cufflink or leave trace evidence!" Derek got up and paced along the terrace, before leaning on the railing and watching some of the boats in the bay. The more he thought about it, the angrier it made him. "I was never sloppy about my work, so this is so damn obviously a set up."

"Ah, but the police don't know you were the Shadow Thief so of course they don't know you wouldn't leave evidence behind."

"I guess I was too good," Derek frowned.

"You said they had a cufflink of yours?"

"Found it under the front seat of Gareth's car. I guess they think I lost it in the struggle. Someone is doing a damn good job at this."

"Indeed, it would seem that way. Well, I do have something that might help; I believe I might have a lead on who owned that painting."

"That would help immensely."

"It might mean you need to step back into your old persona," Richard warned him. "I would do it myself to help you, but my arthritis has been acting up lately. Feeling a little stiff most days."

"I wouldn't ask you to. This is my business."

"All right, but you know if you need anybody to keep an eye out, I'm your man."

"Thank you. Now what have you got for me?"

Meredith made some notes as she scrolled through various search screens and websites. Callie Torres also had her brushes with the law, even though she'd never spent any time in jail. She had a background in art as well, working in various galleries, but she had been implicated in some forgery scams which left her work record tainted. For the past few years, she had been in business for herself, running a small decorating business that specialized in painting murals that replicated some famous artworks. The shop was called 'Faux Elegance', and the address listed was close to the newspaper office.

"Interesting," Meredith murmured. "I wonder how she hooked up with Gareth…and was she dating him or just pushing him to steal that painting? Maybe I need to head over there and do a little interview."

"Talking to yourself is a bad sign," Mark observed behind her. "Who are thinking of interviewing?"

"Callie, she's got a shop close by. I'll tell her I'm doing a piece on local home improvement companies, what d'you think?"

"Maybe I should go with you."

"You don't look up to going anywhere," Meredith said, getting to her feet and grabbing her purse. "I'll be fine. I'll play it up as being just a piece for the Life & Style section, nothing serious."

"Call me when you're heading back here. If I don't hear from you I'll come look for you."

"Thanks, Mark." She patted his cheek. "Your eyes are still bloodshot. Go have a nap in your office."

Along the way, she called Derek to let him know what she'd discovered so far, but it went straight to voicemail. She left him a short message, just as she pulled into a parking spot close to Callie's shop. The small building was nestled between a coffee shop and a beauty supply business, with a gold lettered sign proclaiming specialized artwork.

Once inside, she found a display area cluttered with empty picture frames, swatches of fabrics, and bits of statuary and tile. There were also several paintings on the wall, all of them looking quite authentic. "Hello? Anyone here?"

"Be right there!"

Meredith poked around some of the papers lying on the desk, before Callie appeared out of the back office. "Hey, Ms Torres?"

"Yes…" Callie was wiping her hands on a towel, and she looked at Meredith curiously. She was wearing ripped denim overalls and a long sleeve black t-shirt, with her glossy black hair tied back in a ponytail. "Can I help you?"

"Meredith Grey, from the Seattle Enquirer. We're doing some articles on local home improvement businesses for the Life & Style section next week. Your business sounded interesting, so I hoped you could spare me some time for a few questions about what you do. I'd be so thrilled if you could show me around, your work sounds so fascinating!" Meredith extended her hand, giving Callie a bright smile.

"Oh well, sure I guess." Callie discarded the towel and shook Meredith's hand. It was a firm grip; the woman had some strength in her hands.

"Awesome!" Meredith pulled out her little tape recorder. "You don't mind if I use this?"

"I guess not."

"So what got you started in this business?"

"Just a love of art, and the need to put food on the table!" Callie laughed. "I love painting, but selling my own stuff wasn't really working too well. So this gives me a chance to be creative, as well as earn a living."

"Did you paint all of these you have on display here?" Meredith waved her hand towards the artwork on the wall.

"Sure."

"Isn't it forgery to recreate these?"

"Only if I try to sell them as the real thing! Seriously, everyone knows I'm just doing reproductions." Callie shifted, looking at Meredith. "Are you interested in buying any?"

"Oh, not right now. I know someone that loves art though, maybe I could buy one as a gift sometime." Thinking of Derek's artwork, Meredith smiled to herself at the idea of buying him a forged painting.

"Of course."

Meredith asked more questions, as Callie led her on a brief tour of the shop. There was a small office in the back, along with more art canvases, and piles of papers everywhere. Once they were back where they'd started, Meredith paused, as if recalling something. "I understand you knew Gareth Shepherd, the man killed recently. Is that true?"

"Where did you hear that?" Callie asked sharply.

"I work for the Enquirer, Ms Torres, gossip is our mainstay. I believe you were spotted at the funeral."

"He was a friend. Now what does that have to do with my work?"

"Nothing, of course. But I'm sorry for your loss." Meredith clicked off the recorder, noting Callie's sudden wary expression. Not exactly the picture of a woman that had recently lost someone close to her.

Callie shrugged. "Whatever. Now, if you're done, I really have to get back to work. I have to pick out some marble for a kitchen I'm working on."

"Well, can I call you if I have more questions, once I sit down at the computer?"

"I suppose so." Callie handed over a business card. "Now I do have to go. I appreciate the interest in the business. Always good to get some free advertising."

Meredith nodded. "All right then. Good luck with everything." She turned to leave, feeling strangely uncomfortable suddenly. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Callie hadn't moved, but was speaking urgently on her cell phone. "Damn…"

Just as she stepped outside, someone touched her shoulder and she nearly screamed, swinging her purse in self defense. She turned to see Derek, who had ducked in time to avoid being hit, and she sagged in relief. "What are you doing here? You scared me half to death!" She swatted his chest in irritation, making contact with the soft leather of his jacket. He was wearing dark jeans and a black t-shirt under the jacket, his hair damp from the rain. She realized she hadn't really seen him dressed casually like this before, except in that photo, and the effect was just as devastating as when he wore his tailored suits.

"I could ask you the same thing," he replied, guiding her towards the coffee shop. "Are you out of your mind coming here, Meredith? You don't know for sure what she's up to."

"She's definitely not grief stricken over Gareth's death, that's for sure."

They got their coffee, and settled into a booth with a view of the street. "You should have waited for me. I thought we agreed you were researching only," Derek reminded her, folding his arms over his chest. "After someone threatened you, you need to be careful."

"She's just an artist; she does reproductions and faux finishing. What's she going to do, come at me with a paintbrush?"

"Not funny. I know you're not accustomed to dealing with things like this, but trust me, whoever is behind this means business," Derek said quietly. He leaned forward, his eyes intent on her.

Meredith smiled slightly. "I do, after everything you've told me, I just was so excited to track something down."

"Understandable. But I would hate for you to get hurt on my account." Derek covered her hand with his, stroking his thumb against her palm. "Promise me you won't do anything reckless…"

"All right, I promise." She squeezed his hand in response. It was a little strange to have someone that concerned about her.

"Now, you said Callie was an artist? That's interesting."

"She does reproductions, like I said, for decorating purposes. There's a few paintings displayed in the shop, they look pretty good. But I do feel like she's hiding something Derek. She was making a call as I left, and she looked upset."

"Maybe I need to have a look around, see what she's got hidden away."

"You think she'll talk to you?" Meredith looked at him over her coffee cup.

"I'm not planning on waltzing in the front door," he said, winking at her. "I need to do it when she's not around."

"You're going to break in?"

"Does that change your opinion of me?"

"No, of course not, but you could get caught…"

Derek tilted his head. "I've had a little experience, remember?"

"Can I come with you?"

"No, definitely not." Derek shook his head, before taking a sip of coffee. "I spoke with Richard today as well, and he has a pretty good lead on who the painting was stolen from. I'll need to check into that as well. He's offered to help me, but I prefer to work alone."

"So what if you can return the painting? How will that help you prove someone else killed Gareth?"

Derek frowned. "My thought was if I don't have the painting, the blackmailer won't have anything to hold over me. He's been pulling the strings, and I don't like it." He glanced at his watch. "Do you have to get back to the office right away?"

"Not necessarily, why?"

"I think we could both use a little diversion. I don't have to be at Ravish for awhile, and I can't do anything about the other things until after dark. How about a ride on my bike; take the ferry over to Bainbridge Island?"

"Really? You like taking the ferry?" Meredith grinned at him, and his eyes danced in return at her obvious surprise.

"I love ferry boats, always have," he said. "Are you okay with the bike? I have an extra helmet, and your jacket should be warm enough." His admiring gaze slid over her soft green sweater, well worn jeans and ankle boots. Her own leather jacket was stylish, but would keep out the damp well enough.

"It sounds like fun; I've never had a ride on a motorcycle."

"Not just a motorcycle, honey. It's a Harley," Derek smiled, as he got up and held his hand out to her. "We can have a nice lunch; pretend everything is normal for a few hours…?"

She took his hand and stood up beside him. "That sounds like we're playing hooky, and I'm all for it." It seemed like the most natural thing in the world for him to guide her towards the door, his hand at the small of her back. "Just let me call Mark, or he'll send out the cops to look for me."

"He's quite protective of you," Derek said, and Meredith thought there was a tinge of jealousy in his voice.

"Mmm…maybe. Just protecting his interests," she laughed, pulling her cell phone from her purse. "Are you jealous?"

"I think we had this conversation already," he replied, walking her around the corner where his Harley was parked. He stopped and pulled her against him, and leaned closer so that his lips were close to hers. "I was never jealous before in my life, until I got mixed up with you, Meredith. Every time I think of Sloan with you I want to plant my fist in his face. Why do you suppose that is?"

Sliding her arms around his neck, Meredith tilted her face to his with a little sigh. "Maybe the same reason I wanted to smack Anya when she was hanging on you at the ball. Just hormones out of control?"

"Mmm...maybe," he agreed, pressing a kiss below her ear, so that she quivered in response. Then he kissed her cheek, and brushed his lips over hers before looking at her. "Or maybe it's more than that. We'll have to wait and find out..." he murmured. "Ready to go?"

"All right." She took the helmet he offered, as he swung his leg over the bike, fastening his own helmet. She managed to get in position behind him, and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Take me for a ride, Derek..."