Chapter 8:

*"Now I know what my brother means when he says 'the only easy day was yesterday'." – Charlie Eppes

Season 6, Episode 8: Ultimatum*

*The Next Morning*

Sitting at the large and ornate makeup desk, Robin reached up slowly and pulled the clasp from her hair and watched in mesmerized silence as the soft tendrils dropped and bounced their way across her bare shoulders, teasing the skin there as playfully as a lovers kiss. "You look beautiful," Her mother whispered emotionally over Robin's shoulder as she smiled back at her mother's reflection in the tall mirror.

"Absolutely stunning," Her father agreed with uncharacteristic softness as he placed a loving arm around his ex-wife, pulling her close.

"Thank you," Robin smiled radiantly as she used the desk to help her stand as her sister held her skirts up and out of the way.

"He's waiting for you, are you ready?" Lila asked nervously as she passed Robin the perfect bouquet of fresh pink and white daises that matched her dress and makeup perfectly.

"I think I always have been," Robin smiled again as she gave her reflection one last glance and watched transfixed as the room's soft lighting slipped and teased its way through the lace chiffon, winking playfully as the many tear dropped crystals caught the light, making every movement graceful and elegant. "Yes, I'm ready," She whispered happily as she admired the way her skin appeared ethereal and unmarred next to the crisp white of the dress that hugged her curves and lifted her breasts admiringly.

"Then let's get you married," Her father grinned as he offered his arm and she took it before practically gliding to the door of the hotel suit as her mother and sister picked up the train behind her.

"Wait!" Robin shouted confused when her father pulled back the door to reveal a broken and burning building beyond. "I don't understand!" She shouted at her father's sneering face as her mother and sister pushed her out of the plush comfort of the hotel suit and into an insufferable burning hell of the room ahead before slamming the door closed behind her.

Dropping the bouquet and holding her hand to her mouth, Robin coughed and spluttered her way to the other end of the room as the heat intensified and her lungs began to burn. "Help!" She screamed out as the ash scolded her eyes and her legs buckled, sending her sprawling onto the hot marble floor. "H…help!" She wheezed but she could barely hear the words above the loud whine in her ears. "Anyone?" She coughed and spluttered as the ceiling caved in, flattening her against the ground as something scorching pressed itself against her simmering skin making her roar in inaudible pain. Her throat hoarse and dry, Robin screamed and screamed until the heat went away and her skin turned bitterly cold instead. "Help," She whimpered and croaked pathetically as her heart beat slowed, her breathing became laboured and the black ebbing at the corners of her eyes slowly engulfed her vision. "Don…"

"Robin?"

"Don?" She whispered weakly as her eyes flittered slowly open to the harsh brightness of her hospital room and the reality of a new day.

"Sorry, no," Ian whispered back sadly as his hands gripped hers with sympathy. "He's on his way though," Ian added quickly as she turned her face away, unable to look him in the tired eyes as the tears slowly leaked a small path down her soft, flushed cheeks before dripping off the end of her chin onto the bandages covering her ruined shoulder below.

"How long have you been sitting there?" Robin groaned and winced as she raised her left hand awkwardly to her face to wipe the tears away only somewhat successfully.

"I came back last night but you were already asleep," Ian whispered softly as he reached over and wiped the tears away for her before using her chin to tilt her head gently back to face him again.

"You've been sitting there all night?" She croaked disbelievingly as she gave him a small smile of gratitude. She may have sent Don away with false bravery the night before but really the thought of being in the hospital alone scared her more than she was willing to admit and a small part of her had hoped that Don would see through the bravado and insist upon staying.

"Don didn't want you to be alone and you know Don; he's a stubborn one, much like his brother. I caught him passed out in the hallway so I insisted on staying so that he would go and get some sleep. He didn't want to leave you, but I can be pretty persuasive," Ian smiled softly back as he gave her hand a gentle pat. "We also need to talk Robin…about your statement yesterday."

"Don't look at me like that," She rasped accusingly as Ian stared sympathetically back at her.

"Like what?" He asked her gently, the last thing he wanted to do was cause her pain but if he didn't ask then Elliott would or Logan and they wouldn't be as tactful as him. They had a bomber to care about; Ian only cared for Robin and if her nightmare was anything to go on, she was struggling with what happened and therefore remembered more than she had initially let on. "Like you lied?"

"How do you do it?" She coughed as she attempted to sit a little straighter in the bed but was too weak to even budge and inch.

"Do what?" He asked as he placed a hand under her left arm pit and right hip and lifted her carefully into a sort of sitting position, doing his best to be gentle with her right side.

"How do you look at someone and see the lie? You should have been a lawyer, you'd have been great at cross examination," She wheezed as her shoulder tingled and stung from the movement, but grateful for the more comfortable position.

"You're deflecting," Ian told her with mock sternness, unwilling to be distracted.

"I know," She smiled sadly as she shifted her legs and patted the space next to her for him to sit.

"So tell me," Ian whispered conspiritably as he joined her on the bed, "Why did you lie?"

"You know I never said I lied," She tried pathetically as he took her hand in his again as if he could somehow channel strength into her through it.

"I know."

"Ok I lied," She told him quietly, her face crumpling at the memory as her right, and slightly singed arm, snaked its way protectively over her empty abdomen.

"I know."

"I just…I honestly don't remember anything that could help," She whispered frustrated, unable to meet Ian's gaze. "And what I do I didn't want Don hearing. He's hurting enough as it is."

"It's ok, Don isn't here and I won't tell him anything. What do you remember Robin?"

"I remember the heat," She told him quietly as she struggled to find the right words. "I remember talking to Flo and then…pain. I remember being knocked off my feet and flung across the room. Not being able to breathe," She coughed as her heart rate increased on the small monitor.

"It's ok Robin, you're safe," Ian told her kindly as her eyes flicked to his as her breathing quickened and her chest tightened. "What else do you remember?"

"I can't," She whimpered as she squeezed Ian's hand painfully. "I can't breathe."

"It's ok Robin," Ian told her sternly, "Just look at me and take a deep breath, pull it in deep and then let it go slowly. Good girl, again. Pull it in deep and then let it go slowly, there see you can breathe, you're ok…your safe now."

"I was just so scared," Her voice trembled as her hands shook as she struggled to keep breathing deeply. "I thought…I could feel myself dying."

"But you didn't Robin, you're alive. You didn't die, ok. You didn't die," Ian told her firmly as she let out a shuddering sob and collapsed forwards into his tight embrace. "You survived Robin, you're ok, you're safe," He whispered against her hair as she sobbed against his strong chest. "It's ok, shhh; we don't need to talk about it anymore." Ian lied, knowing that at some point he'd probably have to bring up the faxed photo of her looking at the bomber that was currently burning a hole in his back pocket as he literally sat on the evidence for a little bit longer.

"Robin?!" Lila shouted concerned as she dropped the loaded backpack by the door and rushed to her sister's bedside. "Robin, what happened? What's wrong?"

"Did Don bring you?" Ian asked Lila, cutting through the young girl's panic.

"He and Charlie did," She nodded dumbly, swaying on the spot with indecision. "He's outside with the doctor talking about the surgery," Lila added quietly as she eyeballed her sister uncertainly.

"Get Don," Ian instructed Lila sternly over Robin's hiccupped sobbing, making the girl spring into sudden action and was rewarded with Don storming into the room followed by Charlie seconds later.

"Rob?" Don whispered softly as Ian slipped from the bed and transferred Robin's shaking body into Don's warm embrace before grabbing Charlie and Lila by their elbows and steering them back out of the room, giving Don and Robin some privacy. "Darling," Don whispered softly again, "It's ok, shhh; it's all going to be ok. I'm here now, ok? I'm never going to leave you again. I love you, nothing's changed ok? I love you," Pulling back slightly from her wet embrace Don reached up and held her face in his hands as her own hands held on tightly to his wrists.

"I love you too," She gulped back as her breathing finally slowed again and she did her best to let Don's voice calm her as his thumbs stroked reassuringly at her soft, flushed cheeks.

"There we go," He smiled as the tears finally stopped and he held her tightly against his solid chest once more, careful not to squash her bandaged shoulder but unwilling to let her go again so soon. "Now what was that all about? Eh?" Don asked her worriedly when he finally pulled back, breaking the hug and helping place her back against her pillows.

"I woke up and you weren't here," She lied easily as she brushed clumsily at her wet cheeks with her left hand, "I panicked."

"Ok," Don smiled sadly, more than happy to believe the lie. "Well you don't need to worry, I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere. The doctor's going to take you into surgery soon but I'll be here waiting for you when you get out."

"They're going to use skin from my arse," She whispered uncertainly as her hand reached subconsciously for the bandages.

"Well I've always said you have a very nice arse," Don smiled cheekily as his hand caught hers and pulled it away so that she couldn't fidget with the bandages and hurt herself before leaning in and kissing her deeply.

"Ok," She whispered sadly as the doctor entered the room and Don stood up, letting go of her hand.

"We're ready to prep you for the surgery now Ms. Brooks," Dr Foster smiled warmly as the nurse and Intern followed Dr Foster in the room.

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait outside now," The nurse informed Don kindly as the Intern and Dr Foster grabbed Robin's chart and had a quick side chat.

"Ok," Don nodded numbly, as he throttled his fear for Robin's sake, smiled and kissed her gently on the lips again. "I'll be here when you get back," He told her again as she nodded and smiled weakly, watching him leave, too afraid to say goodbye.

"Ok dear, I just need you to sign these consent forms," The nurse smiled sweetly, not in the least reassuring to Robin, who could feel her hand shaking involuntarily as she scrawled her signature at the bottom of the page the nurse was holding out.

"Ok then," Dr Foster grinned as he approached her bedside. "Let's get started!"

*Break*

"You're unnaturally quiet today," Elliott told Chris concerned as he pulled his red Chevy Impala to a halt outside Jane Doe's fiancé's house. "Everything…ok?"

"Just tired, the briefing went on pretty late last night," Chris lied coolly as El switched the ignition off and turned to look at the sketch Chris was holding tightly in his large hands.

"That our Jane Doe?" Elliott asked curiously, but his partner wasn't listening.

"Why are you here El?" Chris asked hotly, as he twisted to face his older partner who was wearing his characteristic crumpled woollen suit and was busying himself with tightening his tie. "Are you checking up on me?"

"Checking up on you?" El asked disbelievingly as he gave up on his crooked tie, he knew he should have taken Karen up on her offer to do it for him that morning, "No. I'm here because you're about to inform a guy that his fiancée is dead. Have you ever had to give the speech before?"

"No," Chris replied guiltily at the rebuke.

"That's why I'm here and not because I think you'll do a bad job at it," El quipped in quickly before Chris could protest further, "I'm just here to back you up…partner." It was the first time El had used the word with Chris and whilst a small guilty part of him was sad to say it, a bigger part of him knew it was the right thing to say. After all, how did the saying go? 'God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference'.

Maybe this was just El wising up to the fact that the man next to him wasn't as bad as he had initially thought, or the fact that he reminded him of Brian was actually a good thing, like having a piece of his old partner back…or maybe it was talking to Ian again the night before. El realised that he was angry at Ian for Brian's death not Chris. And for what he had considered a poor substitute for his ex-partner, Detective Morrison had actually done a good job of giving Jane Doe her identity back, even though it was a duff assignment and they both had known it.

"Ok then," Chris grinned, all anger apparently gone as he handed the sketch over for El to get a proper look. "This is the sketch Claudia gave me last night, thought it might help with identification as Jane was pretty burnt up."

Pretty burnt up was an understatement, Jane didn't even have a face anymore and it was almost impossible for El to imagine the girl in the sketch as being the face beneath the twisted burnt ruin. "Ok, yes, this is good," Elliott nodded as he handed the sketch back to his partner. "As far as 'the speech' goes, be gentle ok. Answer the guy's questions as clearly and precisely as you can, unless it's about the case and then you reply that: 'we are unable to discuss details of the case at this time'. Ok?"

"Ok," Chris nodded as he let out a huge breath.

"Nervous?"

"A little," Chris admitted reluctantly as he opened the door and climbed out of the car, sketch still in hand.

"That's ok, that's good," Elliott smiled kindly at his young partner, trying to be encouraging as he could as he too got out of the car.

"Nerves are good?" Chris asked disbelievingly, his eyebrow arched as if he was deciding on whether he was being punked or not, still not entirely trustful of Elliott's sudden epiphany to play nice.

"Trust me kid-o," El frowned sourly, "The day this all becomes routine is the day you want to really worry."

"You mean this isn't routine enough for you grandpa?" Chris chuckled at El across the roof of the car, seeking refuge behind it. No way would he have said it in spitting distance of El who looked outraged at the comment and was prone to hitting Chris on the back of his head for his cheek.

"Aye lad," El sighed seriously instead, letting the joke go as he looked solemnly at his partner's smiling face. Brian had once been that young and enthusiastic, until working in homicide had dimed the light behind his eyes. Oddly, El felt a fatherly moment of protectiveness towards Chris and found himself hoping that Chris could hold onto his un-jaded view of the world for a little bit longer. "A little too routine," El grimaced, turning away from the innocence he saw in his partner's face, feeling sick to his stomach.

"Should I be worried for you?" Chris asked suddenly concerned as he noticed the grief clearly etched in his partner's profile for the first time, Elliott had masked it all behind intolerance for Chris and Chris couldn't help but wonder what brought this sudden turn around about in his partner. El had never lowered his guard before, not in front of Chris anyway and he was surprised to see how much the older man was still hurting.

"Let's just inform the family and get back to the office," Elliott replied firmly, making it clear that the rest wasn't open for discussion as Chris walked around the car and fell into step with Elliott as they made their way up the garden path together.

"What do we know about Jane's fiancé?" El asked Chris as he pressed the doorbell firmly for several seconds before releasing it and waited patiently for a reply.

"He's an artist. Sculptures mainly, has a gallery on the sunset strip," Chris replied as he walked over to the nearest window and peered in. "El," He called out as he waved his partner over. "You should see this!"

"What?" El grunted irritably as he trudged his way over to the window to stand in the flower bed next to his partner and peered into the window. Jane Doe's fiancé, or at least El was assuming it was her fiancé, was busy sculpting…naked save for an apron and some plastic goggles strapped to his head and was currently, unwittingly, mooning the two detectives. "You've got to be shitting me. He runs, you're tackling him," Elliot frowned as Chris grinned and together they both tapped loudly on the window and held up their badges as the startled 'artist' spun around holding his chisel and hammer like a knife and axe. "LAPD," Elliott shouted as loudly as he could and gestured to his right before trudging back to the door and waited patiently for Jane's fiancé to open it. Thankfully, when he did he was no longer sporting the apron but a pair of dirty tracksuit bottoms, the goggles now hanging around his neck. Fortunately he'd had the sense to leave the tools behind.

"Can I help you officers?" The man sniffed nervously as he rubbed self-consciously at his red puffy eyes.

"I hope so," Elliott smiled stiffly at the twitchy artist. "I'm Detective Hayes; this is my partner Detective Morrison."

"Are you Stuart Watkins?" Chris asked sternly, in a deeper more authoritative voice than his usual baritone.

"Call me Stu," The man grinned reluctantly, clearly uncomfortable in their presence but attempting to charm them with his incredibly straight and dazzlingly white teeth anyway. "What's this about?"

"May we talk inside?" El asked kindly, doing his best to remind himself that he was there to rip the bottom out of this arrogant bum's world and to be nice, but the man shook his head and blocked the open doorway with his large chest that was as chiselled as one of his many sculptures, making it hard for Elliott to remain nice.

"I'd rather not," Stu sniffed nervously again, his eyes shifting uncertainly from Elliott's ghost glare to Chris's baby blues and back again as he subconsciously closed the door a fraction more.

"Look, we're not here about the drugs," Chris informed Stu firmly, who shifted uncomfortably at the word 'drugs'. "We're homicide detectives."

"What?"

"We're here about your fiancée Mr Watkins," El added softly, the good cop to Chris's surprising bad. "Is this her?" El took the sketch off of Chris and handed it over for Stu, who took it in his shaking hands and stroked the image gently.

"Chrissie? I don't understand…"

"I'm sorry to have to tell you sir," Chris told the man gently, suddenly soft as a single tear made its way down Stu's pale cheek and chiselled jaw, to drip noisily on the sketch of his fiancée's face. "That your fiancée has passed away."

"We hate to be the ones to bring you this news but if we could talk inside, we do have some important questions that we need you to answer," Elliott added quietly as the man look up from the sketch disbelievingly, his gaze flittering back and forth between the two detectives, his mouth opening and closing fish, no words coming out.

"Sir?" Chris prodded gently and a little impatiently.

"Is this some sort of a sick joke?" Stu finally replied as he screwed up the sketch and threw it at El. The two detectives exchanged a concerned look as the paper bounced harmlessly off of Elliott's chest and rolled into the nearest flowerbed.

"We assure you it isn't…" Chris stammered uncertainly as El frowned calculatingly at the high and emotional artist.

"Why would you ask if it was?" El asked calmly as he scratched thoughtfully at his stubbled chin that was practically a beard, Karen had told him to shave it but El hadn't had the time this morning.

"Because I fucking buried her a week ago!" Stu roared coldly; ready to slam the door in both of their faces. "You've clearly made some kind of mistake!"

"Wait! Is this her ring?" El asked quickly as he shoved his foot in the doorway and winced as the door smashed into it, before pulling an evidence bag with Jane Doe's ring in it from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and passed it through the crack to Stu.

"Where did you get this?" Stu whispered stunned as he stepped back and let Elliott push the door back open.

"I judge that it is?"

"It was buried with her," Stu looked at Elliott, his brow wrinkled with grief and anger. "Where did you get this?"

"It was found on the remains of a Jane Doe in the courthouse explosion a week ago, it took us this long to identify her remains using the ring. Our facial reconstruction artist created the sketch based on the woman's skull. Is this your fiancée?" El asked as he squatted down and grabbed the sketch, flattened it out and handed it back over to Stu.

"Damn it," Stu whispered angrily, his chest heaving with pent up emotion. "You had best come inside," He grunted resentfully as he walked away, leaving them to make their own way in. "But don't touch anything!" He called out sharply from the room to his left, the work room they had caught him in earlier.

"Hey," Chris whispered in Elliott's ear as he held him back a moment.

"What?"

"This…is…routine?" Chis quirked an eyebrow at his partner who grimaced in return.

"No," El replied softly as he shut the door behind him. "I'm starting to think that there's nothing routine about this case!"

*Break*

"How's Lila?" Ian asked quietly as Charlie closed the door to the waiting room behind him before collapsing exhaustedly into the chair next to Ian.

"She's with my dad," Charlie replied sadly as Ian put his arm around him and pulled Charlie close. "He'll look after her," Charlie added softly, a whisper against Ian's chest as he snuggled closer. "I've missed you."

"Mmm," Ian sighed happily as he breathed in the soft scent of chalk that always reminded him of Charlie and rested his cheek upon the top of Charlie's head, smiling against his soft curls. "Feels like forever ago that we had a moment to just sit like this, it's nice."

"Wouldn't have picked the hospital's waiting room as the most romantic setting, but I'll take it," Charlie joked as he took Ian's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I really admire what you're doing for Robin," Charlie whispered quietly, so quietly Ian almost missed it. "Even if it does mean we hardly see each other."

"She's family, you do what you can for family," Ian mumbled roughly, his voice catching in his throat. Family had always meant different things to Ian over the years, what with growing up knowing your mother didn't want you, then knowing he didn't fit into any of the fifteen foster families he'd been placed in. It wasn't until Kevin had saved him in New York that Ian had understood what the word family could even mean and the concept of a home, but now with Charlie, Ian truly understood that the feeling of family could be so much more, could be so much better than he had ever imagined as a child.

Somewhere along the way Ian had convinced himself that he didn't need or want a family and had put a wall up around his heart to protect himself from life's disappointments over the years. A wall that Charlie had obliterated when he had come to Ian that night all those months ago, after arriving back from London, and stood with his back pressed against Ian's door, inches separating them with his Adams apple quivering between fear and anticipation and whispered for Ian to stay. And in that moment and every moment since with Charlie Ian had never wanted to leave.

"Ian? What is it?" Charlie asked startled as he sat up straight, breaking Ian's hold as he reached out his hand, pressing it against Ian's rough, scarred cheek and gently brushed the tears away with his thumb.

"Did you know that my real name is Julian?" Ian asked blankly, looking through Charlie rather than at him. "Julian Reese…I shortened it when I was ten and in my ninth foster home."

"Larry would quote Shakespeare right now and say: 'What's in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name would still smell as sweet'." Charlie smiled as Ian's mouth quirked up at the corners.

"Are you seriously quoiting Romeo and Juliette at me right now?" Ian laughed as he reached his hands out and pulled Charlie in for a long kiss.

"Made you smile didn't it," Charlie grinned when the pair finally came up for air.

"Aye," Ian grunted, though not unhappily.

"Why did you change it?" Charlie asked as Ian locked their fingers together and pulled Charlie back against his chest.

"Because Julian was who I had been not who I was anymore, Julian was abandoned… Ian needed no one."

"But you were ten!" Charlie exclaimed indignantly on his behalf.

"That's plenty old enough in the system. Old enough to know when nobody wants you, to have a jaded view of the world…to make bad choices…" Ian sighed sadly; he rarely opened up about his time in foster care, hell Ian rarely opened up about his past at all. As far as he was concerned the past was the past, was the past.

The only time he'd ever mentioned any of this was when Charlie had proclaimed that Ian knew him better than he knew Ian because half of Ian's life is classified and the rest Ian just didn't want to talk about…Ian had told Charlie to ask him anything at the time and he'd answer what he could around the classified bits but Charlie had stopped after only a couple questions, figuring more would come in time. Looked like that time was now, though what had brought on the sudden confession was anyone's guess but Charlie wasn't about to waste the opportunity to scratch deeper at the surface now it had arisen.

"Was your time in New York one of those bad choices?" Charlie asked hesitantly, he found it hard to believe that living on the streets could ever be more appealing than a home no matter how nasty the family you had to share it with was.

"At the time, I had regrets," Ian replied after a while, just when Charlie had given up hope for a response. "But now…my time in New York hardened me to living rough and living light, two principles I've carried with me in the military and then hunting fugitives for the FBI. New York gave me a solitary freedom I'd never had before and in many ways I believe it made me as good as I am now. Sure it was a bad time, I joined a gang and did bad things but if I hadn't gone to New York, I never would have met Kevin and subsequently…you…who knows the kind of man I'd be now without my time there…maybe I'd be a better one…"

"Do you miss it? Hunting I mean..." Charlie asked nervously, it had been playing on his mind lately that this was the longest Ian had stayed in one place…a part of him was still afraid Ian would change his mind and move on, a rolling stone and all that…

"Honestly? Sometimes," Ian admitted brutally, causing a stabbing sensation in Charlie's heart, making him force back tears that were pricking at the back of his eyes. "I dream about the hunt, the chase…late at night…but they all end with Brian's death. Sometimes I think that it's a sign that I should be out there…hunting again but really it would just be me, running away again, like I always do. Do I think of this place as home now? No," He carried on cruelly as Charlie's head bowed, his grasp on Ian's shirt tighter than he'd like but he found that he was unable to let go as if his grip on Ian was the only thing keeping him there. Sometimes, Charlie reckoned, there was such thing as too much honesty…"I don't think I've ever felt at home anywhere…except for when I'm with you. My home now is wherever you are," Ian whispered huskily, his voice catching annoyingly in his throat again as Charlie sat back and looked Ian in the eye.

"Do you really mean that?" Charlie whispered back, equally touched.

"Have I ever lied to you before?" Ian smiled weakly, his own eyes surprisingly moist as Charlie reached a hand up into Ian's slightly long hair and pulled his mouth closer.

"I love you," Charlie whispered against Ian's lips before kissing him deeply, cutting off Ian's chance to reciprocate with words. To make up for it, Ian sunk everything into the kiss. The pain of the past six weeks, the anger at the last case, the worry for Robin, the guilt for Brian, but more importantly his love for Charlie.

"I brought you some fresh clothes," Charlie told Ian breathlessly, several minutes later as he pointed at a gym bag Ian hadn't seen Charlie bring in. So much for being the ever observant one, Ian grinned as he got up, and pulled his top up over his head revealing a mass of scars and a couple of large faded greenish yellow bruises, the marks of his time with the LA child snatcher still evident in more places than just the scar running down the side of Ian's face… "I need to ask you something…but I'm afraid to ask…" Charlie told Ian seriously, a little quiver in his tone as he pulled the letters from his pocket and fingered the flap of one envelope in his lap.

"Interesting," Ian smiled as he dropped the top on the seat opposite and unzipped the gym bag.

"What is?" Charlie asked tense as Ian unbuckled and took off his belt before rolling it up and placing it on top of the abandoned shirt.

"I thought for sure you'd just try to sneak them back into the jacket pocket without me noticing," Ian shrugged as he bent down and pulled his work boots off and lined them neatly with the chair leg.

"But you did notice," Charlie said it so quietly Ian wasn't sure if it was a question or statement.

"Yes I did notice," Ian nodded as Charlie smiled despite himself. "Did you read them?" Ian asked suddenly, surprising them both with the intensity of his question.

"No," Charlie sighed when the silence had stretched too far for comfort.

"Why not?" Ian asked confused, his question lingering between them unanswered as Charlie took his time to answer.

"I guess I figured that nothing good could ever come from anything that woman has to say," Charlie shrugged as he fiddled with the elastic band holding the letters together.

"That's a fair assessment," Ian threw over his shoulder as he turned his back on Charlie and pulled down his trousers; boxers included, and whipped them off. "You can ask...if you want."

"Ask what?"

"About the letters," Ian gave Charlie a tight smile as he grabbed the fresh pair of boxers from the bag and pulled them on, ignoring the heat he saw in Charlie's gaze as Charlie watched Ian pull the cotton boxers up over his tight ass.

"Ok…" Charlie replied unsteadily as he let out the breath he'd been holding and asked Ian: "Did you read them?"

"They're unsealed aren't they," Ian replied flippantly as he pulled the fresh pair of jeans from the gym bag and stepped into them before pulling them up his strong calves. He'd lost so much weight in the past six weeks he didn't even need to undo the button to slip them on.

"Have you replied to them?" Charlie asked hesitantly, his gaze averted as Ian pulled the t-shirt from the bag and held it suspended in front of him. The slogan read: There are 10 types of people in this world, those who know binary and those who don't.

"No I didn't reply to them…" Ian mumbled hoarsely as he lowered the t-shirt and turned to look at Charlie. "What is this?"

"One of my favourite tops…" Charlie tried to backtrack as he registered the anger in Ian's unwavering gaze. "I don't have a key to your place so I just grabbed you something from my basket…I thought you'd want something clean!" Charlie rushed to explain as he sprang to his feet, the letters falling abandoned on the hard ground as Ian took an unexpected step away.

"You really expect me to wear a top your wife bought you?"

"I didn't think…I just…it's one of my favourites…I thought you might appreciate having it…I was wrong, I'm sorry," Charlie whispered hurt as he turned away and headed over to the waiting room's closed door.

"Charlie, wait…" Ian groaned as he came up behind Charlie and turned him around to face him. He was wearing the t-shirt. "I'm sorry, ok. I'm a little on edge and I over reacted. Forgive me?"

"Just don't shut me out ok?" Charlie whispered back roughly as he took Ian's hands and held them against his chest, his thumbs stroking roughly against the scabs around Ian's wrists. Yet another reminder of the Child Snatcher, they'd have to learn to live with. "Did you at least ring the prison to make sure she can't send anymore?"

"What?" Ian asked huskily, his gaze locked on the handcuff cuts around his wrists and Charlie's thumb, their bodies only centimetres apart.

"The letters," Charlie pressed, his Adam's apple quivering between fear and anticipation as the air between them fizzled with unaddressed heat.

"Don't worry, she won't be sending anymore," Ian smiled as he took a step back, pulling Charlie with him by his hands as he dropped one to pick up the letters and tossed them into the trash in the corner of the room, his aim as true and steady as ever.

"Now where were we?" He grinned against Charlie's mouth as he drew him in for a long kiss.

"Mmm," Charlie moaned happily as Ian left a trail of kisses searing down his skin, from the corner of his mouth to his neck and clavicle. "We shouldn't," Charlie told Ian without conviction as he gently pushed Ian back, both hands on Ian's strong chest and almost caved when he looked up to see the lust burning in Ian's heavy gaze and teasing grin.

"Your right," Ian sighed irritably as he stepped back reluctantly, taking the heat with him. "Don needs his little brother right now. I'll finish up here…you should go to him…"

"Come home tonight," It sounded a little pleading to Charlie's ears and he hated to hear the weakness there but he really missed Ian.

"How can I say no to that?" Ian smiled, but it was a non-answer and they both knew it was unlikely. Don and Robin came first; it was as simple as that.

"Ok, see you in there," Charlie whispered as he gave Ian one last quick kiss and bolted from the room before he lost his resolve.

*Break*

Following Chris into Stuart Watkins large living room/workroom, Elliott watched with interest as 'Stu' took a seat on a rough wooden stool next to a large slab of marble, his arms crossed and frown following Chris as he wandered around the room looking at black and white photos of sculptures that lined the blue walls.

"These are some impressive prints," Chris told Jane's fiancé as he finally turned to look at the impatient artist. "Is this your latest project?" Chris asked curiously as he crossed the room to stand before the slab of marble propped up in the centre of the cluttered room, his expensive loafers squeaking on the sheet of plastic covering the hardwood floors.

"You could say that," Stu replied quietly, his full lips pulled tightly back into a disapproving line. "Chrissie's family asked me to design her headstone."

"We're sorry for your loss," El tilted his head forward solemnly at Stu who softened fractionally as his gaze shifted to the face carved magnificently in the centre of the marble. It was hard for El to believe that the beauty carved there and the blackened ruin of Jane Doe's face were one and the same.

"Just explain to me how you got this," Stu whispered angrily as he held the evidence bag tightly in his white knuckled grasp, crushing the ring in his large palm.

"We found it on some remains recovered from the LA County Courthouse after the explosion. Thus far we've been unable to identify her. She was wearing this ring however, and we traced it back to you through the boutique. What was your fiancée's name?" Chris explained patiently as El took his turn to do a sweep of the dark room and paused briefly next to a bureau with the traces of a white substance scattered across the top.

"Perhaps someone else bought the same ring?" Stu grasped desperately, as he sniffed and watched El bend to examine the white powder.

"The boutique owner told me it was a custom design, one of a kind," Chris replied sternly, dragging Stu's shifty gaze back to him.

"But I buried her with it!" Stu shouted impatiently as if both Chris and El were idiot tourists that didn't speak English. "There is no way!"

"And yet…the evidence is there in your hand," El let his words sink in as he moved slowly over to where Stu was trembling slightly on his stool. "What was Chrissie's surname?"

"Noland, Christine Noland," Stu breathed out defeated as his hand unclenched and dropped the ring suddenly as if he'd been scorched by the thought.

"Stu," El replied steadily as Chris retrieved the ring. "You said you buried Chrissie, how did she die? When did she die?"

"The eighth, she died on the eighth."

"The day of the courthouse explosion?" Chris jerked back up into a standing position as El pressed further.

"How," He told the young artist sternly, "How did she die?"

"It was an accident, she was driving home and crashed on the highway," Stu told the room as his gaze fell anywhere but on El's tense face.

"I remember," El nodded thoughtfully, "The traffic that day was bad, took me a while to get to the courthouse."

"It was my fault," Stu whispered harshly as tears dripped from the corners of his eyes and skittered their way down the rough contours of his exhausted and lined face. "I was told that she crashed because she was reading a text that I sent her. I was working on a new commission and needed supplies...which I made her go out for…but I forgot a couple things. When she reached for the phone a gas truck veered into her lane and took her out. The car was so badly damaged that the firemen had to fight to cut her out but it took too long, the car set alight…she was still alive when it exploded seconds later…"

"I'm really sorry to have to ask this, but did you see your fiancé's body before it was buried?" El asked holding his breath; he had a hunch but needed it confirmed.

"What?" Stu asked confused, his sobbing momentarily interrupted.

"Did you see the body before you buried it," El repeated, doing his best to hold onto is patience.

"I…I couldn't it was so badly burned…they knew it was her car and proved it was her body via DNA…I just didn't want my last memory of her face to be…that…" Stu sniffed as he stroked the stone face of his fiancée. "They gave me the ring back but I asked that it be buried with her…the morgue saw to it that her body was transported to the funeral home and then we had a closed casket burial."

"So you can't say for certain that it was actually your fiancée's body that you buried?" Chris asked softly as his eyes met El's, a spark of excitement in his electric blue eyes.

"No…" Stu whispered uncertainly as he looked from one detective to the other "…but I carried it into the church myself with her father and four brothers…there was definitely something in that casket…"

"Mr Watkins, Stu, we're going to need a DNA sample for Chrissie to compare with our Jane Doe…with your permission…we're also going to need to exhume your fiancée's casket…" El explained gently as Stu's mouth moved up and down like a fish for a few seconds before hardening and his eyes met El's ghostly ones.

"Of course," He whispered. "If my fiancée isn't down there I want to know what is…as for DNA…I still have her toothbrush and hairbrush in our bathroom. I'll go get them."

The second Stu was out of the room El turned to Chris, his face unreadable. "Call Colby, I want him and Claudia to meet us at the cemetery; I want that body exhumed today."

"Aye," Chris grunted as he shut his notebook with a snap. El was surprised to see it, he hadn't realised Chris had been taking notes…

"Also!" El shouted quickly to his partner as he was about to walk out of the door. "Ask Colby to get someone to look into the funeral home. Someone must have noticed something, or is involved,"

"Sure thing," Chris nodded again as he went outside to make that calls, leaving El alone in the room with the marble carving. Chrissie Noland's death had been an accident but El was certain that her body showing up in the court house wasn't. He just had to figure out how she was connected to this mess.

"I'm going to find out what happened to you and then I'm going to make it right, I promise you that." El whispered passionately, but the stone face remained unmoved by his declaration. "I promise you that!" He whispered again as Stu entered the room, this time dressed in old jeans and a woollen jumper.

"You're going to need a guide to the grave," Stu stated glumly.

"Of course, thank you," El smiled fractionally as he held out an arm at the exit in a 'lead the way' gesture.