DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE HOLLOWS. IT BELONGS TO KIM HARRISON!

Just wanted to take a moment to apologize for my long absence. This past few months have been hectic.

So, yeah. Enjoy!

RPOV

Trent's interrogation room was dead silent, except for the dull drumming of my fingers on the table. Nick sat across from me, trying to appear nonchalant, though I could easily see through his facade. It was his subtle moments that gave him away. Of course, he could be faking his pathetic attempts to hide his nervousness. Then again, that bead of sweat at his hairline said differently. He rubbed his fingers into his forehead, wiping the perspiration away with a grimace.

Al stood behind me, and from his reflection in the one-way mirror, he had his arms crossed over his chest. He was frowning. And so was Trent, who was sitting on my left and so close I could feel his impatience and anger shimmer across my skin like electricity. 'Course, that could simply be that his close proximity was doing odd things to me. Stop it, Rachel, I scolded myself, focus.

"That isn't what we agreed on, Nic-k," I said, hitting the k hard, and not bothering to hide the distaste that the human instilled in me.

He scowled at me. "We never agreed on anything, I just didn't object."

I waved a hand in the air. "Tomato, tomatto." Again, he scowled at me, and I pressed on before he said something that would cause me to reacte and regret. I stabbed a finger at him. "I told you I'll meet you halfway. We got you on this side of the lines. Now, you give us your blood. That was the deal, you stupid moss wipe!" Okay, so yelling at him probably wasn't the best thing to do, but damn it, it felt good.

Trent placed his hand atop my knee. "She's right." He told Nick, and Nick turned his glare from me to him. "Now, stop wasting all of our time." He meaningfully gestured to the silver ceremonial knife at the middle of the table.

The curse to untwist the one Nick put on Trent and I was already twisted. All that was needed was to mix Nick's and my blood, and then pour it with the rest. But the little mouse burger wouldn't cough up the blood! God, you'd think he was scared of getting a little cut! I'd already cut my palm. Hell, Trent had already disinfected the deep gash and wrapped a gauze around my hand. All the while he was doing that, Nick had repeatedly refused to keep to his side of the bargain, whining that he wanted his stupid money first.

The three of us kept telling him to shove it.

The glass bowl the size of my fist, next to the ceremonial knife, was half full with my blood. All Nick had to do was give himself a gash that mimicked mine and fill the half of that bowl, just like I had. Then, we'll give it a quick stir, mixing our blood, and it'll go in with the rest of the uninvoked curse to invoke the stupid curse. But, no. The sissy insisted he wanted his cash first.

Al cleared his throat in warning. It was three against one, we win. Together, we all stared Nick down. Many thoughts flitted past his face, most of which were unreadable. From the few I managed to decipher, I guessed he was rethinking something. Unfortunately, I hadn't an idea what it was, and if it would benefit or damn us. Most likely the latter. Nick kept his eyes on me, and I refused to look away from his stare. Even if I was starting to get uncomfortable under his somewhat pained scrutiny.

"Can I speak with you?" He asked, his voice gruff, then flicked his eyes beside and behind me. "Alone, if possible?" He added, sounding doubtful.

Al harrumphed. Trent grimaced. I slouched in my seat, thinking that I was going to grow old and die before Nick will miraculously realize that he wasn't going to win. "No." We all said in unison.

Annoyance flashed in the back of Nick's eyes, and I saw his struggle as he tried to shove it down. "I just want a few words with her alone. That's it," he said, speaking to Trent and Al, not me. "And I don't want any of you listening in on what I want to discuss with her."

"Why would I want to talk to you alone, Nick?"

"Please," he pleaded, his hands open in front of him like a big leaf, trying to appear innocent. "Just . . . talk with me."

Perhaps it was the way he was asking, like a lost puppy with puppy dog eyes. Or maybe it was because the rebellious side of me kicked in with the simple fact that Trent and Al were set against me talking to him alone. But, more likely, it was that I was curious of what Nick wanted to tell me that he obviously didn't have it in him to say in front of the elf and demon. So, I spoke up before Trent, or Al. "Fine."

Al's reflection glared at me, and Trent pinched my knee. "What?" I snapped. "He said he wants a few words with me alone. After five minutes, you can come back in for all I care."

"Itchy witch," Al warned.

"All I ask is for five minutes." I said, exasperated. "Go wait outside by the door." He growled at me, and I met his eyes through his reflection, not backing down.

After a few seconds, he rolled his eyes and smacked Trent on his shoulder. The elf jumped, and glared at Al from over his shoulder. But Al was already a few paces from the door. He knocked three times, and Quen opened it from the other side. His distaste for Al was obvious, but Al just ignored him, turning back and gesturing for Trent to follow him.

Trent looked back at me, a silent question in his face. I nodded, and he sighed in defeat. "Fine," he grumbled. After giving Nick a look that clearly said to behave himself, he bent forward and kissed my forehead, shocking the hell out of me. Maybe it was his way of showing my importance to him in front of Nick, as if the weasley human hadn't already seen it. "We'll be right outside," he whispered into my ear, and I fought a shiver.

Seconds later, it was just Nick and I.

"So," I began, leaning back in my comfy, padded chair, crossing my knees. "Whatcha got on your mind, Nicky?"

"What's going on between you and Kalamack?" He asked, mirroring my sitting position.

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

Nick shrugged, cracking his knuckles. His only show of unease now that the sweat had been wiped away and he'd gotten control of his other tells. "You and Kalamack. How did that happen? I thought you hated the man."

"That isn't any of your business." I snapped. Oh, God. Why did I agree to this again? Curiosity had killed the darn cat.

"And what of Big Al? Now, that one, please explain to me."

"And, again, that isn't any of your business." I snarled at him, getting annoyed.

Nick only leered at me. "I'm guessing that relationship with the vamp didn't work out?"

"He died." I said softly, beginning to regret agreeing to speak with him. "Is that all? Can Trent and Al come back in yet?"

Nick sighed. "We never got a chance to talk all this through," he muttered. "I just wanted all the answers before we never see each other again. You can't tell me that you don't want that either."

"Actually, I can." I retorted.

"Who would've thought, when we first met in those rat fights, that all this shit was going to happen?" He said conversationally. "Things have changed. Remember how, back then, I saved you from both Al and Kalamack. We were lovers, allies."

I made a face, disgusted. Sad, but true. How could I have been so stupid? "And now we're enemies." I said almost cheerfully.

Anger made Nick's long face ugly. "That's your fault. Not mine."

"Beg pardon?" I choked, fury steaming out of me. "How the turn is any of this my fault? You were the one who walked away."

"How long did it take you to move on, Rachel? After I left and while I thought you were dead?"

I couldn't say anything. It was getting harder for me to breath. The freaking son of a bitch bastard! Okay, fine, so I began dating Kisten not even a week later after Nick left, so what? Nick was gone. Had been for months. "You left!"

"So it didn't take long, I gather." Nick drawled. "I told you I just needed space. When I left, I had every intention of coming back. And I never broke up with you." His face was turning red, and his voice was cold and spiteful. "I thought you were dead! Even after I found out you were still alive, you didn't want to give us a chance. You were the one who walked away."

"Because I found out who you really were!" I yelled, pushing away from the table and standing, my heart hammering in my chest. Nick stood, too. "A thief! A liar! You messed up Jax! Shall I go on?" I seethed, seeing the same amount of anger I was feeling in Nick.

"Fine," Nick retorted, throwing a hand in the air flippantly. "So, I'm not Mr. Clean. What about Kalamack?"

I put my hands on my hips, fuming. "What about him?"

His face went taunting. "I thought he made bio-drugs, Ray ray. I thought he trafficked in brimstone. I thought he was a murderer."

"Yes, he is," I agreed. "But he never broke my heart." The whole Ellasbeth situation, notwithstanding. Trent doesn't want her, so it doesn't count.

Nick swallowed hard. "I see," he said. "Well, that was all I wanted to discuss with you. Good to know you sold out."

I didn't say anything because, in that moment, Al re-entered the room. "Time's up." He sang. "Shall we get on with this, then?"

Trent wasn't far behind, and neither was Quen. The older, pox-scarred elf stood against the door to look like the dangerous, menacing, security officer that he was. Trent's warm fingers gripped my own cold ones and gave them a squeeze of comfort. Al had taken my seat, so I just remained standing.

The ceremonial knife was in Nick's hand, and he was swiping it over his palm in a fast and angry motion. Other than him twitching his nose, he gave no sign of pain. He was once tortured by crazed Weres, he could handle that little cut. Blood flowed effortlessly and he held his bleeding palm over the glass bowl. It didn't take long for it to fill the rest of the way to the top. I sighed in relief, pushing the lingering ire down. Up until this moment, I didn't think he was actually going to do it.

From the pair of stiff shoulders relaxing slightly, the elves hadn't either. Al just there.

"There you go," Nick spat. Though instead of sounding angry, he sounded . . . defeated, yet triumphed. My brow furrowed. Like he lost and won, both.

"Itchy witch," Al said expectantly. I nodded, though he wasn't looking at me, and slowly stepped around the short table to stand at Nick's side.

He held out the miniature, copper stirring stick, and I gripped it cautiously. I forced myself not to pull away when his fingers covered mine. Together, we mixed our blood carefully, so as to not let any spill over the sides. Every drop counts. After a few gentle counter-clockwise motions, Nick's hand left mine. I left the stirring stick in the bowl as I pulled away. Almost, I thought. Now all that was left was-

"Now, am I free to go?" Nick asked, interrupting my thoughts.

I shook my head in irritation. Jeez, could the man give it a rest?

"Quen?" Trent asked, holding his hand out towards the older elf. Quen wordlessly handed him a black duffel bag that I hadn't noticed before. Trent then walked along the length of the table, placing it before Nick on the table. Nick immediately unzipped the bag, revealing loads of hundreds wrapped dollar bills that had probably never seen the light of day.

Satisfied, yet still grim-looking, Nick zipped up the bag. "You leave when this curse is completed successfully." Trent said flatly.

It was odd, watching Nick's face. I could of sworn that I saw a flash of fear, quickly replaced with acceptance. Nick blinked as he caught me eyeing him with suspicion. Something was going on. Nick had another sleazy plan up his sleeve. I just knew it.

Not wanting to let on that I knew something was up, I gave Nick my prettiest smile. I think he saw through it though, if the sudden tightening of his eyes was any indication. Keeping my steps light and casual, I moved quietly to stand behind Al. Leaning lazily against the back of his chair and bending at the waist, I whispered in his ear. "Is there any way for this curse not to work?"

Al looked up at me, his brow furrowed and his red goat eyes squinting. He went to speak, loudly, I presumed. I bent even lower. Taking the hint with a roll to his eyes, he put his lips to my ear. "Yes. If shit-for-brains doesn't give us his consent to untwist the curse . . ." He let his voice trail off.

"But he's giving us his blood." I insisted quietly, moving to sit next to him and scooting forward. "Isn't that the way he gives his consent?"

Bothered, Al shifted in his seat. Apparently, it was a sore subject for him. "No, that's not actually the case." He stared into space, and I bumped my knees into his thigh roughly. Sighing, Al wrapped his arm around my shoulders, bringing me closer to him. "Yes, him giving us his blood is him giving us his consent." Al stared into my eyes. "But he could also be lying."

"What?"I exclaimed, then winced and covered my mouth.

Trent was behind us in a flash. Before he could ask, I grabbed his arm tightly and dragged him down. Practically forcing him to bend over double between Al and me. "Al says there is a way Nick can screw us over!" I hissed in his ear. Crap on toast, why hadn't he said anything before?

"How?" The elf whispered, casting a look over to Nick, who was sitting, shoulders hunched, under Quen's murderous glare. "He gave us his blood!"

"He can lie about giving us his consent." Al sighed. "It's a risk, yes, but I do so happen to have a plan B."

I nearly choked. "Plan B! How the heck can we grab the fish and run like hell?"

Al chuckled. "That's your plan B, not mine. I didn't voice my concerns earlier because either way, that curse on you two is being untwisted. It's not a matter of if, anymore. It's a matter of when." Al clarified. "Of course, I do so hope Nicky comes through, but I doubt it. The only actual risk worth pissing over is whether-"

But a sudden, hard thump of a body falling interrupted Al.

Alarmed, we jumped to our feet. Quen was laying out cold before Nick, a frightening black goo covering his chest. Trent's breath caught. In Nick's hands was that little bowl of our mixed blood. The look on Nick's face said it all. He knew we'd grown suspicious, and in a rush, he poured the blood in with the unfinished curse. Al rushed forward, slamming Nick against the mirror behind him. The sound of it shattering was lost to my ears.

Al's tall and muscular body hid Nick from my sight, but there was no mistaking how Al pulled his arm back and and jerked it forward. That crunching sound was inaudible as well. He stepped away, shaking his hand, and Nick's black form fell at his feet. Just like that, Nick was subdued. For now, at least.

I felt myself fall to my knees, but I failed to feel the impact. My world had blurred and my hearing was muffled. Vaguely, I could see Trent, but he looked far away. His face was red, as if he were screaming. A coldness seeped into my bones, and I shivered, hoping that he'd hold me. Trent was warm. The last thing I saw was a pair of red, goat-slitted eyes.

Okay, so I'm a bit embarrassed. I know that at the end of last chappie, I stated that this would be final chapter . . . It isn't. I toyed with the idea of ending this story . . . the way that it ends, and simply making a sequel of Trent and Al trying to help bring Rachel back, but I was too uncertain about that, so I opted not to. The next chappie coming soon!