Thanks again to those of you who reviewed! I'm glad you're enjoying it! This chapter doesn't move the story along much, but I had fun writing it anyway!

Andy.

He stood there silently, the cold steel of the exam table pressed in to his thighs as he waited for the medical examiner to pull the sheet down off her face. The few seconds it took for her body to be revealed felt like hours and he could feel his heart pounding all the way down in his stomach. He clenched his hands tighter together, willing everyone else in the room to be wrong. The examiner pulled the sheet up and folded it so only her head and shoulders were showing. Her long brown hair was matted with clumps of dried mud and the bruises on her chest were deep purple. Her face was a gruesome sight with two gashes across either cheek, from her ears to her either side of her lips. Her eyes were the brightest blue he'd ever seen them as she stared up at the ceiling, completely lifeless. He felt his stomach churn as he took in the details of her face. He had to get out of there right now. He had to be wrong. It couldn't be her.

Andy rolled himself tighter in his sheets, thrashing about his bed in a cold sweat. His eyes jerked open as he willed himself awake. A dream. It had only been a dream. He groaned as he rubbed his eyes and rolled over to look at his alarm clock: 5:23. He'd only managed to finally fall asleep at four. Still, attempting sleep again would be futile-he had to be in the office by seven.

Sharon.

Sharon sat at the kitchen table going over the files again. She was wearing yoga pants and still had her black cardigan wrapped around her as she dragged her fingers through her hair and tied it up in a loose ponytail. As the sun crept up through the windows in the living room, she finally checked her watch-it was 5:30 in the morning. She was exhausted but she simply couldn't put the case files down. Every day they didn't catch this killer was a day he could strike again. She had to admit to herself it wasn't likely there'd be another murder, though. This was a copycat killing and usually copycats stuck to the original case pretty closely-she could only hope it was true this time. Elizabeth Short had been iconic for all the wrong reasons. Why there were freaks that were so fascinated with recreating her murder, Sharon would never know. One celebrity cold case was enough for the LAPD, they didn't need another one under her watch, and she was determined to close it even if it meant she didn't sleep for a month.

Barely able to keep her eyes open any more, she grabbed her lap top and sauntered in to the kitchen to make another cup of tea. She'd been reading the files all night, but nothing stood out. Maybe learning more about Elizabeth's death would help her with Amelia's. She was familiar with the case, but not intimately so. Sharon did a quick internet search for the Black Dahlia and began to filter through the results-hundreds of pages of theories on the case, potential suspects, even an episode of American Horror Story had featured the unlucky starlet. How ironic, Sharon thought to herself. The poor little thing couldn't make her break when she was alive but here everyone was, nearly sixty years later, and Lizzy's got a guest-starring role on a hit television show. The world was weird. And cruel.

Just when Sharon thought she wasn't going to find anything useful she stumbled upon a book titled Black Dahlia Avenger: The True Story. Great. A book. She didn't have time to read an entire fucking book. She took note of the author's name and emailed herself the bibliographic information. At least she had a task for Tao today.

Giving up for the morning, Sharon finished her cup of tea and started readying herself for work. She'd missed her chance for any sleep at all, so it was going to be a very long day.

Rusty.

Rusty grumbled as Sharon banged on his door again. "Rusty… Rusty come on! Get up, or I'm coming in there. You're going to make me late for work."

It didn't help that neither of them was particularly a morning person, so Sharon was as grumpy as Rusty was tired. He hated schooldays. "I'm UP" he muttered as he rolled over, burying his face in his pillow. Sharon sighed. She knew he'd be out like a light again in five minutes. She opened his door, and then opened his blinds-as had become their weekday morning ritual. "Rusty, get out of that bed RIGHT NOW."

Rusty sighed. He knew she'd pull the covers off next if he didn't at least sit up. "Fine, fine. I'm up." He glared at her as he adjusted himself to sitting and scratched his head. Sharon nodded and left the room so he could get out of bed and get dressed. He was particularly exhausted this morning because he'd stayed up late to finally finish the letter to his Mom. He still felt weird about sending it, but he did miss her. At least with her in jail he not only knew she was alive, but knew where she was. He hated that it was a relief when she was there. He grabbed the letter off his desk and read over it one more time.

Dear Mom,

I'm sorry to hear you're in jail again. Have you made any friends this time? Do you know how long you will be there yet?

Life is really good now. Sharon is really nice to me. She takes really good care of me. She's not the best cook in the world, but she tries. She's sending me to this really preppy Catholic school that her kids went to. She says it doesn't matter if I'm Catholic or not as long as I can look guilty enough. She's kind of funny sometimes. I joined the chess team. It's a fun game. I won my last two tournaments and I have another one coming up in a couple of weeks. Some of the squad usually goes to each one. I feel really safe here. Sharon's a good person. I love her. She talks to me a lot about you, too. She says she's really sorry to hear you're in jail again, and she hopes you're okay.

I wish I knew what else to say. Where were you before you got arrested? How come you weren't on the bus? I'm sure you had something really important to do, but I missed you. I wish you'd come back. Well, I'll write to you again. You can write to me at Sharon's house, too. The address is on the envelope.

I love you, Mom.

-Rusty

Deciding it was all right, he stuck it in an envelope and sealed it. Sharon knew all the information for the jail, so he'd pass it off to her this morning. When Sharon found out she was in jail, she bought a stack of cards and envelopes for Rusty so he could write to her. He didn't know how to tell her how much he appreciated that.

He pulled a light blue shirt over his head and tucked it in to his khaki pants as he pulled them up; at least wearing a uniform made mornings easier, even if it was ugly. He grabbed the envelope off his desk again and headed to the kitchen, smoothing down his hair as he went.

"Breakfast is on the counter," Sharon muttered as she packed her case files and lap top away in her bag, "and brush your hair before we leave, please."

Rusty sighed. Sometimes Sharon thought he was so much younger than he was. Still, he probably wouldn't have brushed his hair if she hadn't told him to. He rolled his eyes and stuck the letter out for her to take. "I finally wrote her. Will you send it for me?" Sharon straightened as she took the small envelope from him. She knew it was her job to encourage Rusty to speak to his real Mom, but she didn't want him to get hurt again either.

"Of course I will, Rusty. I'll mail it today." She did her best to force a smile as she fingered the envelope, hoping it hadn't been a mistake to tell him to do it in the first place.

Rusty could sense her unease. He looked at her for a long moment, not daring to move as she stared at him with the fake smile. It was hard to love Sharon and miss his Mom. Some days he thought he didn't actually miss her at all. Some days all he wanted was to see her again. None of that changed how much he'd grown to love his new foster Mom. "Sharon… don't get all weird. I'm gonna say this but you can't tell anyone else I did, okay?"

Sharon laughed. Rusty treated everything with secrecy, even when he didn't need to.

"One, I'm not being all 'weird'. Two, shoot."

Rusty leaned against the table, his hands picking nervously at the wood grain. "Just because I miss my mom doesn't mean… I don't know. I don't want her instead of you. You take care of me like she never did before and I really appreciate it. I guess-" Rusty shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, "I guess I'm trying to say I love you, okay?"

The tears splashed down Sharon's cheeks before she could stop them. She knew she loved Rusty. She just hadn't been able to say it to him yet because she didn't want to make him uncomfortable. "Oh, Rusty," she half whispered, moving to hug him, "I love you too."

Rusty rolled his eyes. "I said don't get all weird, Sharon..." he chided her, but wrapped his arms around her as quickly as she had him. They hugged for a moment, both comfortable to stay in their embrace. Finally, Sharon pulled back, resting her palm against his cheek.

"At the threat of continuing my weirdness, you never have to worry about choosing me or choosing your Mom. I'm here. I'm family. I'm always going to be here. Even if you lived with your Mom again, I'd still be there, Rusty, because that's what family does."

Rusty rested his hand on top of hers for a moment, then shrugged. "I know. But if you don't stop being mushy you're going to make me late for school, Sharon."

Sharon laughed and nodded her head, "Okay, okay. Go grab your backpack. AND brush your hair!" she called after him as he walked down the hall.

She heard a heavy, exasperated sigh. Well, at least he listened to her when it mattered, she guessed.

Christine.

Christine sat in her office, trying not to be too distracted by her phone as it went off with text after text from her new friend. They'd been talking night and day for a week-she couldn't wait to get back to LA to see him. He really was the perfect guy. Not only was he a surgeon with a killer accent, but also he was in to old movies and running and the Hollywood scene Christine had always loved so much. She was seriously counting the days until her next trip to the west coast. Finding a break in her reading, she picked up her phone to check it.

James: Ok-20 questions time, abridged. Give me ten random facts about yourself and I'll do the same. Ok…go. ;-)

Christine: 1. I'm terrified of heights 2. Swimming is my favorite exercise, next to running. 3. I'm secretly a nerd, and a momma's girl. BSG is my favorite show-mainly because Laura Roslin reminds me of my Mom. 4. I crave chocolate chip cookies when I'm stressed. The big, warm, gooey kind. 5. My favorite color is forest green. I think it comes from being a red head. 6. I'm incredibly clumsy. 7. Dirty martinis are my favorite. 8. I hate cut flowers; it's a waste of precious greenery. 9. I do like jewelry. 10. If I can't be in high heels, I want to be in running shoes.

James: All good things. I guess it's my turn.

I'm secretly a history buff.

Pop culture fascinates me.

If I weren't a surgeon, I'd want to be a criminal profiler.

I dyed my hair blonde once. It was horrible!

I waited tables at the pig n' whistle while I was in medical school.

I have never seen BSG. What is that? Lets watch it.

I have a dog. He is spoiled.

I have a weakness for French fries covered in cheese.

I don't like snakes.

10. Grand finale….running is my favorite form of exercise, too. J

Christine grinned as she read through his text. Perfect. He was absolutely perfect, and only a few years older than her, too-which is better than she normally did. She couldn't wait to call her Mom and tell her all about him. Two weeks until she was back in LA felt like an absolute eternity.