WARNING: The next 3 chapters all contain spoilers from 4x03; You Only Die Once. If you don't want any spoilers, don't read until chapter 150 is posted. I will put a "Season 4 Spoiler Warning" at the very top off all the chapters with any reference!! (P.S. Not going down the "333" storyline yet – so that won't be making any appearance!)

Aphina - I probably had a little too much fun with that story arc, but you know how irritating the plaguariser has been, and the mary sues!

RK9 - very well, I think he's amused with baby bunnies! Woot - virtual puppies! And, thank you!

Wolfsong98 - don't worry - I know how busy things can get! I'm just glad you're still there!

demolished-soul - Kendall is staying! I like her quirkiness! I'm about to write the girl's day out now, and she is certainly coming!

meadow567 - glad you like! And it will be, in part.

miss wizard of oz - I don't know where the ending came from, but i figured it was about time Maddy knew how she was feeling.

sparkyCSI - I think that ending has been a long time coming. At least the powers aren't going to be behind what's coming up!

Rightos, as previously mentioned, there are spoilers for 4x03; You Only Die Once - I've told you twice now - so I don't want any complaints! I will completely understand if I lose readers for a while!

And of course, there are many thanks to my marvelous beta, sparkyCSI!

What The Eyes Can't See

Chapter 147: She's a fallen angel with a devilish streak

Taylor wasn't sure exactly what Maddy had said, but something had worked. By Labor Day – two weeks later – there had been a grand total of three ghosts. She had managed to get some shopping done, now owning clothes which fit her skinny frame better and didn't make her look like a skeleton wearing something from the Teletubby's wardrobe.

After spending the morning in her office, working on a piece about internet fraud (it had actually worried, so she had invested in some help from the paper's tech support and installed an encryption program on her laptop, as well as password protecting all her documents), she headed home.

Taylor unlocked her door and slunk into her apartment, collapsing back against the door as soon as she shut it, sighing as she looked at the state of her apartment. She had spent as much time as possible at her office, trying to get as much research as she could whilst the ghosts were taking their much appreciated break.

Flack, on the other hand, had been called in repeatedly, because, as he liked to point out, crime didn't sleep. As Taylor would retort, the heat brings out the loonies. And, it turned out, the loonies were banding together to create a nudist colony, in the centre of Central Park.

Consequently, the pair had hardly seen each other, and the other consequence was that the apartment was looking… slightly on the messy side.

Taylor sighed again. There was only so long she could put off the inevitable. Dumping her laptop and bag on her bed, she quickly got changed into a pair of flannel running shorts, a baggy NYPD t-shirt she had 'acquired' off Flack, and pulled her hair back.

By mid-afternoon, the dishes were done, the kitchen floor had been swept and mopped, and the living room was tidy and dusted. All that needed doing was the vacuuming. She pulled the vacuum cleaner out of the closest, switched it on, and turned it back off almost instantly. Muttering curses under her breath, she undid it and pulled the bag out, dropping it in the trash can.

Taylor was under the sink, trying to locate new vacuum cleaner bags – it really was time to buy a Dyson – when the door opened, startling her. 'Marty!' she exclaimed, rubbing her head where she had smacked it. 'What are you…?' she trailed off when she saw the strawberry blonde surveying the room.

'Taylor, this is Devon,' Marty introduced the blonde, helping Taylor to her feet.

'Hi,' Taylor smiled warmly, assessing the woman who looked strangely out of place in her kitchen.

'Hello,' Devon responded. She turned to Marty. 'You didn't tell me Taylor was a girl.'

Marty shrugged. 'Taylor Turner? New York Daily writer? I thought you knew who she was?'

Devon turned to Taylor, this time being the one who was doing the assessing. 'Do you write for the gossip section?'

Taylor shook her head. 'Crime.'

'Oh,' Devon sighed. 'I give that section to Daddy.'

As soon as Devon's back as turned, reading both Marty and Taylor's qualification certificates, Taylor turned to Marty – her arched eyebrows clearly asking who the hell is this woman and how the hell has she worked away into our home? Instead, she asked, 'So, what brings you back to New York?'

'Devon's invited me to a party at the Butterfly Conservatory at the Museum of Natural History.'

Devon turned at the mention of her name and looked at Taylor. 'What are these awards for?' she asked, pointing at the items displayed on the wall.

Taylor took a deep breath – the reasons were clearly printed in bold, black ink on them. 'Some of my columns,' she responded, instead.

Devon's stare intensified making Taylor feel slightly uncomfortable. 'You know, you look familiar.'

'That's probably because my face is plastered on half the buses in the city,' Taylor retorted before she could help herself.

'You should come,' Devon told her.

Taylor glanced at Marty, noting his confused expression, before turning her own confused expression back to Devon. 'Huh?'

'To the party.'

Taylor blinked. 'What party?'

'The one at the Conservatory, silly,' Devon told her with a girly giggle. 'You do own an evening gown, don't you?'

Taylor's mind flashed instinctively to the numerous, still unworn dresses in the back of her closet. 'Yes, but-'

'Then it's settled. I'll have the car pick you up at nine. Marty, darling, are we done here? Can we go buy you a suit?'

'Of course, cupcake,' Marty complied, allowing himself to be led from the apartment.

'Remember, Tanya, nine o'clock.'

'It's Taylor,' Taylor muttered, but the door was already closed. 'What the hell just happened there?' she muttered out loud.

--------------------------------

'You sure you can't pull a sickie?' Taylor asked, cradling the phone under her chin as she pulled a couple of dresses out of her closet.

'I'm sure you can manage a party without me,´ Flack chuckled down the phone.

'Doesn't mean I want to,' Taylor pouted, choosing the shorter of the two dresses.

'You don't want to party, or you don't want to get to know this Devon character?'

Taylor frowned. 'Remind me why I'm dating the damn perceptive detective?'

'Because of my money,' he deadpanned.

'Damn. Was it that obvious?' Taylor grinned, draping the dress onto her bed and sitting down at her dresser. She sighed. 'Right, I need to dry my hair. But remember – if you get called out to a death of a gorgeous woman at the Conservatory-'

'I won't worry it's you?' Flack finished.

'Heh, heh, heh. I'll remember that, Blue Eyes.'

Flack laughed. 'You know I love you really. Death of a gorgeous woman?' he prompted.

'She either died of boredom, or it was suicide.'

'Well, if you're going to kill yourself – do it in style.'

Taylor frowned. 'I think you've been spending too much time with the loonies.'

Flack sighed. 'Tell me about it.'

'I would, but I really do have to dry my hair. I don't think Devon would appreciate me being late.' The two said their goodbyes and hung up, leaving Taylor to dry her hair. With a sideways glance at the turquoise dress, she decided to go for straight and sleek.

By nine o'clock, she was waiting impatiently in the lobby, surveying her reflection in the mirror the building super had conveniently hung there. Strappy shoes with three inch heels (which were going to kill her feet unless she got some champagne in her soon), tanned legs (yay for summer), and a short cocktail dress with a boned bustier and a draped, knee-length skirt.

At ten past nine, a large, black Lincoln Town Car Limousine pulled up. Realizing it was too late to get out of it, Taylor stepped outside into the warm night air and walked down the few steps to the sidewalk and the awaiting limo, where the driver had already come around to open the door for her. Thanking him, Taylor slid in, finding herself sitting opposite Marty and Devon.

'Sorry we're late,' Marty began, but was cut off by Devon.

'Never apologize for being late,' she told him, surprised that he could even contemplate such a thing. 'Tara, that dress is divine.'

'It's Taylor,' Taylor corrected her, forcing herself to smile.

'You know, I have a necklace that would look absolutely fabulous with that dress!' Devon leant over to the small cabinet which had a TV set into it (which was playing a Beyonce music video) and slid open the front. Inside was a small safe, which she quickly unlocked and pulled out one of the blue boxes that Taylor would recognize anywhere.

Devon handed the box over like it was book. 'This should go nicely.'

Taylor carefully prized the lid off and peeked in awe at the piece of jewelry. It was a multi-strand diamond, and what Taylor suspected to be, sapphire affair, with a diamond buckle to the right. Taylor's jaw dropped open. 'I can't wear this!' she gasped. 'It's probably worth more than my apartment.'

Devon wrinkled her nose. 'Yeah.' She shrugged. 'Daddy bought it for me, but blue doesn't suit me. You can borrow it.'

'I can't,' Taylor muttered, although she really did want to. 'Nonsense.' Devon cocked her head and looked at the stunned journalist. 'Those earrings will have to go,' she declared, diving back into the safe and pulling out another box. This one, Taylor discovered, contained chandelier-style diamond earrings.

'I'm dreaming, aren't I?' Taylor muttered, looking at Marty who just shrugged at her. It was one very surreal dream. A car with a safe, which contained more diamonds than Taylor could ever imagine owning… which had been bought for by Devon's daddy. Just how did Marty meet this woman?'

'So,' Taylor started, trying to alleviate the slight nervousness she was experiencing putting the jewelry on. 'How did you two meet?'

'Devon's father is one of the main benefactors to the University,' Marty explained. 'There was an evening supper.'

Supper?

'I was forced to attend by the head of my department,' Marty continued, seeing Taylor's amused expression. 'I got talking to Mr. Maxford and let it slip how much I like football.'

'Daddy owns the Rams.'

Suddenly things were beginning to make sense Taylor fought herself from commenting – remember the diamonds!

------------------------

It was a charity benefit. And Taylor wanted to slink out of the door. Not that she didn't want to give – but rather, she knew that the kind of people that generally attended these things had far too much money than they knew what to do with it, and wanted to look like they cared.

Refusing to allow that belief to become set in stone until she had mingled with the guests at the benefit, she pushed the thought from her mind and accepted a glass of (what tasted like very expensive) champagne, and left Marty and Devon, refusing to be a spare wheel.

She found herself at a fountain, staring a butterfly that had landed on her hand holding the champagne glass.

'They finally picked a nice place to hold one of these things.'

Taylor looked up finding a pretty redhead staring at the butterfly.

'It's a peacock,' the redhead told her, nodding at the red winged butterfly on her glass. 'The markings on it are supposed to resemble eyes to scare of predators. They're native to Europe and Asia, though.'

'You like butterflies?' Taylor asked as the butterfly flew off.

The redhead nodded. 'I'm an entomologist here at the Museum.'

Taylor frowned. 'You're not here to give money?'

The redhead laughed. 'Far from it. I'm here to get it. We're actually trying to raise money for an expedition to the Amazon. There a hundreds of insects there that we have yet to identify.'

'Taylor Turner,' Taylor smiled, introducing herself.

'Dallas Galsworthy.' Dallas smiled painfully. 'I'm sorry, but I can see the director waving me over. I think I only have to be here for a few more hours and then I can escape.'

'It was nice meeting you,' Taylor nodded.

She finished her champagne and replaced it with a fresh glass from one of the waitresses who seemed slightly more preoccupied with two men fighting than doing her job. Taylor shook her head in disgust as the two men were thrown out of the building and wandered back to Marty who was looking slightly uncomfortable.

'You look beautiful, by the way,' Marty muttered.

'Thanks.' Taylor turned her head and looked up at him. 'Okay, so I'm only going to ask this once, but Devon?'

Marty grinned. 'She's hot. And she did let you wear her diamonds.'

'Which she pulled out of a safe in a car,' Taylor told him. 'Marty, I only say this because I care, but Devon?'

'I thought you were only going to ask it once?' Marty asked, somewhat amused.

Taylor scowled. 'Seriously though. There are smarter goldfish out there.'

Marty smirked. 'I'm not looking to sleep with a goldfish.'

'Right,' said Taylor, blinking. 'I wish I never bought it up.'

Marty glanced down at his watch. 'And speaking of that, it's time to take this one home to bed.' He smirked again. 'Excuse the pun.'

Taylor stood watching him, mouth hanging open. 'Playboy,' she muttered under her breath.

--------------------------

Flack yawned. He'd spent the whole day going over paperwork, and he was tired. Calling it a night, he grabbed Taylor's keys (she'd allowed him to borrow her car that morning) and headed home.

He smiled to himself as he drove. One thing was for certain, Taylor had a nice car. If only he could persuade her to let him get a bike. He shook his head. Now he was thinking like they were a married couple.

As he turned a corner, his eyes strayed to the sidewalk. Waiting for a cab behind all the limos, was, well, the most beautiful woman he had seen all day. With a sly grin, he pulled over, leant over and wound the window down. 'Need a ride?' he asked, smiling up at the woman.

She arched an eyebrow but leant over. 'That's the best you can do?' she laughed. 'Do you think that line's going to work?'

His grin turned into a smirk. 'You tell me?'

The dark haired woman laughed but got in. 'What will your girlfriend say about you giving lifts to strangers?'

Flack laughed. 'I prefer the term, rescuing damsels in distress.'

'I'm sure you do.'

'And what makes you think I've got a girlfriend?' he asked her, pulling away.

The woman turned, arching an eyebrow. 'The fact that pick-up line was so lame.'

'Lame it may be, but it worked,' Flack chuckled. 'So where to?'

The woman looked him up and down. 'I guess we'd best go back to mine. We don't want your girlfriend walking in.'

Flack smirked. 'No, we certainly do not.'

A short while later and the pair could barely keep their hands off each other – Flack was already devoid of his shirt - as they rode up the elevator up to the apartment. They burst into the apartment and barely two steps were taken before Flack was pushing the woman up against the wall and trying to remove her dress from her. He managed to pry his lips away from hers. 'You don't have a boyfriend do you?'

'No one important,' she responded heavily. 'No one who's going to be turning up here at any rate.'

'Good,' Flack muttered before he returned his attention to the woman's neck.

And then a bang caused the woman to freeze.

Flack stopped and looked up. 'Roommate?'

'Marty's gone back to Devon's,' Taylor told him, shaking her head.

The pair listened but hearing nothing else, resumed their antics. 'Nice necklace,' Flack managed in between sucking at Taylor's collar bone, and successfully shedding her of her dress.

Another bang interrupted them again.

'You sure Marty isn't bringing his girlfriend back here?'

Taylor frowned. 'I'd hardly call Devon his girlfriend. More like-'

'Taylor!' Flack hissed.

Taylor shook her head. 'I don't think so.'

Flack took a deep breath. 'Wait here.'

Taylor watched his retreating back, and then dropped to the floor to pull her dress on. Still struggling with the zipper, she hurriedly followed after Flack.

'I told you to stay where you were,' he whispered at her.

Taylor glanced down at the gun at his hand and took a step back.

At the sound of movement in Taylor's bedroom, Flack kicked the door open. Standing in the middle of the room was a man in a black jump suit.

'NYPD – don't move!' Flack barked.

Of course, he moved. He dove out the window.

Flack and Taylor ran over to the window, staring down at him parasailing to the ground. 'You've got to be kidding me,' Flack shouted in disbelief, grabbing his phone off the side. 'This is Detective Flack. I've got a 10-13, in pursuit. Suspect was last seen propelling down the outside of 213, Pine Street.'

Taylor chased after him. 'Don! Where are you going?' she asked as she followed him to the stairs.

'Call 911 – tell them you had a break in,' he shouted over his shoulder.

Taylor continued to charge down the stairs after him, thankful that somewhere between the elevator and the kitchen, she had lost her shoes. The pair burst out of the stairs, into the lobby, then out into the street in time to see the burglar hop into a very nice Aston Martin and peel down the street.

Behind them, a taxi squealed to a halt. The next thing Taylor knew, Flack was holding up his badge and gun and pointing them at the cab driver. 'Hey, hey! I need to borrow your car!'

'You pay for it,' the taxi driver shouted back at Flack as he was pulled from the vehicle.

'Don!' Taylor shouted after the taxi as it sped away after the DBS. 'DON!' she frowned at the taxi as it squealed around a corner. 'How the hell do you expect to catch a DBS in a taxi?' she muttered to herself as she fingered the diamonds still adorning her neck.