The five current members of Baker Street lingered in mostly silence in a hotel room. Sherlock was going over the papers to the bombing while Mrs. Hudson nervously made tea. Damon was wearily watching Jen pace back and forth shouting on the phone about the uselessness of everyone with Sherlock occasionally looking up at her with an amused look. Myra, meanwhile, held her hand clasped in his as she quickly texted with her free hand.

"Yes, fine! Goodbye!" Jen hung up her phone before turning to the four. "They'll be starting cleanup immediately before construction on the block begins. They said to get everything built to the way it was it'll take um… half a year until I offered a rather sizeable donation, and now it'll be done in three months. As for the furniture in Baker Street and all our possessions, I'm more than a little pissed about that, but most everything is replaceable. Thankfully everyone was out at the time of the bombing... except Toby." She stared at the wall briefly before Sherlock quickly cut off her thoughts.

"It's possible he ran off somewhere," Sherlock informed her before he took up the next paper at the next mark. Twenty bombs were detonated in London including Baker Street, and Scotland Yard was in a mess trying to find the culprit. The bomber had targeted Baker Street making the case more personal than ones in the past.

"So while we're waiting three months. What are we to do?" Myra asked them.

"Ginny and I will rent out this hotel room until then. We have enough money between the two of us for it not to be a problem," Sherlock informed them. He wouldn't be having the woman live anywhere but with him. She had become a fixture in his life that he preferred stayed.

"Myra and I were thinking about buying a house on the outskirts," Damon admitted looking to the woman in question.

"Oh, scandalous," Jen teased him making him roll his eyes. "When's the wedding?"

"Shut up, Lupa," Damon told her, but Myra was suppressing her smile. "Mrs. Hudson," Damon called to the older woman. "Will you need a place to stay? Myra and I-"

"Oh no, no," Mrs. Hudson tisked placing the tea on the table for them. "I'll be staying with my sister for the time dear, don't worry about me."

"Are you sure?" Jen asked as she leaned over and fixed the tea as everyone liked it. "I'm sure Sherlock and I could-"

"Oh no, I'll just get in the way," she continued her objections.

"Nonsense!" Damon exclaimed making her smile fondly at him though it was obvious the subject would be dropped as Mrs. Hudson was animate about stay with her sister.

"So what do we have, Sherlock?" Jen asked giving him a cup of tea as Myra leaned over and gave Damon his tea cup as well as taking her own.

"Nothing yet," Sherlock muttered eyeing the map of London that had pins at the sights of the bombings. "Did you get a hold of John?"

"Yes," Jen answered sipping her in tea. "He and Mary are coming back early from their honeymoon. They should be landing here any minute."

"Good, their Sex Holiday," Mrs. Hudson tisked at his nickname for honeymoon, "has been a complete waste of time and has been hindering my cases," he replied sipping his tea.

"Well, you wouldn't really know," she told him rolling her eyes. "I think a Sex Holiday sounds lovely. You and I could go together sometime," she teased causing Sherlock to snap his eyes to her. She smiled sipping her tea purposely not looking at him. Damon cleared his throat and stood setting down the cup of tea.

"I think we'll duck out of here," he told her.

"Alright," she replied airily as she turned and kissed his cheek. "Be careful."

"I'll let you know about the house details. For now, we're going to hold up in my bachelor pad," he teased. His 'bachelor pad' was where he conducted business; it was a small house not far from the warehouse, and she actually hated the place.

"Mrs. Hudson, would you like me to drop you at your sister's?" Damon asked her.

"Yes, dear," she told him before Jen gave her a kiss on the cheek. The three left Sherlock and Jen alone. Jen stood next to him staring at the map. They hadn't gotten a chance to talk since their little urm… chat in the tunnels, and it wasn't exactly the time to talk about it either. She looked up at him watching his eyes flicker across the map as he tried to find what the bombing sites had in common. His eyes stopped flickering for a moment as he felt her eyes on him.

"What?" he asked her wondering what she would tease him about this time.

"You love me," she teased him with a grin.

"We were about to die," he reminded her not looking down at her yet. He kept his attention focused on the map.

"I still count it," she replied happily turning on her heels to go sit on the couch.

"Ginny," Sherlock started, but a knock on the door interrupted Sherlock forcing him to answer it.

"How's the case going?" John asked stepping inside the room with Mary. They had gotten into a cab right away to arrive at the hotel that Sherlock had told him he was staying. Baker Street was destroyed, and that made the case personal to John. Mrs. Hudson could have been killed; Baker Street was still a form of home for him. Mary understood having to cut the honeymoon short.

"Sherlock's in love with me," Jen told them before she turned her attention to a book she was forced to buy that morning due to all her books being destroyed… for a second time.

"Oh really?" Mary teased before sitting down on the couch in the empty space.

"Do shut up," Sherlock told her before going back to the board at hand. Mary was grinning, and even John was suppressing a smile. It was about time.

"So, what have you found out?" John asked. Jen sat up to pick up her cuppa. She sipped the tea as Sherlock explained what he knew about the case to John.

"The bombings, with the exception of Baker Street, are random," Sherlock told him turning to a map of London and pinning the last few bombings to the board. "Some are empty buildings, and some are residential bombings. The bomber has no political agenda; this is death and chaos for the sake of it," Sherlock told them. "Isn't it thrilling?" he asked. "The game is on!" Jen laughed at his enthusiasm for hundreds dead; it was disturbing, but it rather suited her.

"So any guesses?" Jen asked trying to process all the information in front of her.

"The bomber left a calling card," Sherlock suddenly said clapping his hands together. "They targeted several buildings for a reason." He drew several dots on the board before connecting them. "It's a constellation," he said as the sound of a mug shattering caused both John and Sherlock whip around to look at Jen's pale face staring at the constellation. She had stood in something of a rush to do something. It couldn't be, but it was. She had been ignoring the signs for months now, but she knew.

"It's the constellation Ursa major," she told him looking at him, "her calling card." She felt this was the case when Ulmar was killed; it had all the signs. Ursa was taunting her nightmares again as Jen denied, denied, denied.

"Ursa's?" Sherlock asked suddenly making his way to her and grabbing her shoulders. "Are you sure?" he asked now gripping her head between his hands looking down at her in worry and panic. This wasn't good.

"I fought her for five years of my life, Sherlock; I know her work when I see it," she told him shoving his hands off her as she felt a swell of panic attempt to grab hold of her.

"You killed her," Sherlock replied. "You told me you shot her in the head." She shook her head.

"I don't know; it was in the middle of a bombing, and I had just killed Chris," Jen replied shaking her head. "Maybe I missed, but this is her." How could she miss? Even in chaos, she should have known whether she had shot Ursa or not. There would have been a body right in front of her. Something wasn't right.

"Okay," Sherlock said with a nod understanding slowly trying to wrap his mind around the investigation. He had to push that fact to the side for now. "Okay, what does she want, Ginny? What was her objective before?"

"Nothing," she told him quietly. "She liked chaos and destruction; she's like Moriarty. He didn't do it because of some agenda; he did it because he liked it."

"Are you in danger?" Sherlock asked her making it the priority. If Jen was in danger, he needed to make sure she stayed safe before anything else.

"I don't know; it depends if… she knows I'm alive," she replied, "but if Ulmar's was her, which is what's looking like, she knows I'm alive, and she's going to try and kill me."

"Alright," Sherlock told her starting to pace nervously. He was never nervous, but this couldn't be helped. She had her life in his hands, and failure was not an option. "Did she have a house or base before?"

"I don't know," she answered frustrated. She knew nothing of use. "I don't know anything about her other than she's psychotic."

"Do you know her real name?" Sherlock asked hoping to perhaps get some information from Mycroft if necessary. He would turn to every resource he had.

"Moriarty told me it: Raine Aigle."

"What?" Sherlock asked her turning on his heels to look at her. It couldn't be. Why?

"Wasn't that…?" John looked to Sherlock, and the look on his face was enough to convince him.

"Dark, straight hair, heavy makeup, small?" he questioned.

"Yes…," Jen answered looking between Sherlock and John quickly. "How do you know that?"

"She was at the flat claiming to be a client several months ago," Sherlock told her. She had mocked him, taunted him, mentioned Jen. What was the purpose of that? She said she was curious. Why was she trying to get information on him, on her?

"She could have slit my throat," Jen breathed holding onto her throat as if she was still worried someone would come up and attempt to kill her.

"Yes, but she didn't," Sherlock mused staring at her. "What does she want?"

"What does anyone want with me?" Jen asked tired of being the target of psychopaths. She didn't understand why.

"Oh," Sherlock breathed, "that's brilliant, Ginny. Of course. Moriarty knew she was alive; he was trying to draw her out using you. He wanted her alive." That was Moriarty's game? That's what he wanted? It seemed too clean, too simple. Something was missing.

"Sherlock, I'm scared," she admitted. "I'm terrified; I barely made it out alive fully intact. She won't just kill me; she'll destroy me. This is the start. Don't you get it? She destroyed Baker's Street, and now, she's going to target the people I care about."

"Ginny, calm down; you getting worked up isn't going to help," he told her. He couldn't let her panic. If she panicked, he may start to panic.

"But-"

"Go take a nap," he ordered. "You're distracting me."

"But-"

"Ginny, I cannot work when I am worrying about you," he said sternly looking down at her. She gave him a slight nod before heading off to the bedroom. John stared between the door she went through and Sherlock, who was focused on the case file.

"Did something happen between you two?" John asked. Jen had said Sherlock was in love with her, and he was more on edge knowing she was a target. What had happened? What had changed?

"We nearly died," Sherlock told him, "so no."

"It's just you two seem-"

"There is a woman, who is apparently just as dangerous Moriarty, wandering around London, and you want to gossip?" Sherlock sneered cause John to shake his head.

"No, no, I was just… right, let's get to work."

Sherlock nodded as he went to make the phone call to Mycroft; he hated asking his brother for help, but in this case, he wasn't willing to risk failure.

"What is it?" Mycroft asked on the other line. He sounded tired with his brother like he always did.

"The bombings on Sunday, Ginny said that she would recognize the work anywhere," Sherlock told him. "She said it's a woman by the name of Raine Aigle; I need everything you have on her." There was silence on the other end.

"I can't," Mycroft told him rubbing his forehead. This wasn't the phone call he was hoping for. This phone call aged him more than he would admit. Things were about to go to hell, and all he could do was standby and watch.

"What do you mean you can't?" he asked pacing again. His brother wouldn't just refuse him like that without reason. "This woman is insane from the stories I've heard."

"Her files are closed," Mycroft answered with a sigh. To open that road for his brother would be a mistake, but Mycroft had to give him an excuse. "It's not so simply to get her information; she has people."

"Ursa will be looking for Ginny, Mycroft," Sherlock told him. "She will be targeted; she's in danger."

"I'm sorry, Sherlock. My hands are tied," Mycroft told him before angry and irritated, Sherlock hung up on him. Mycroft sighed rubbing his eyes; she was supposed to be gone. His phone beeped, and he looked down to see a blocked number texting him.

Keep out or watch them burn.

Mycroft ran his hand down his face before he sent a single text to different people; they had to know what was happening, and a face to face was out of the question. Too many questions would be asked about his association with them.

Robert Verown sat at dinner with the Prime Minister talking jovially of the future; he was an optimistic man, and perhaps a little naïve, but it was good for Germany right now, or so Robbie believed. His phone buzzed in his pocket making him frown.

He quickly fished it out to read the text he had received from Mycroft; it must have been of great importance.

Try as we did, we failed her; Ursa lives.

Robbie stared at the text for the longest time before he felt his own emotions come out in full force. Tears slipped down his face surprising the prime minister; he was so used to the normally stoic man.

"Mr. Verown?" the Prime Minister asked concerning him what had caused the sudden break in emotion.

"I'm sorry," he muttered getting up, "I have to go." He didn't explain where he was going because he didn't know where he was going. He would go wherever his feet carried him; he needed to clear his head even if he woke up in some gutter miles from his home. He only knew that his sister was doomed.

Damon O'Hera was in the middle of a meeting with one of his most important investors; he was a drug lord from another country looking to get his hand deeper into the job. He had heard Damon O'Hera was the man to talk to, but he found the man to be hardly a man and closer to a boy than expected. So when his phone went off in a meeting the drug lord gave him a rather unpleasant look; the drug lord was just waiting for a beating from O'Hera's men. He was itching for an excuse.

Damon glanced at his phone to see a text from the one person that struck fear into him, not because he was a frightening, but because he would only text Damon for one reason and one reason alone.

Try as we did, we failed her; Ursa lives.

"Mr. O'Hera, I believe-"

"We're done here," Damon said taking out his gun from his waistband and shooting the man straight in the head before he rushed out of the office in a hurry. His men would deal with the body; he had other things to deal with. He began to hurry out of the office, but he suddenly felt weak as he fell to his knees clutching at his heart as he felt something wrong. He collapsed leaving him in darkness.

She felt the one side of the bed shift under the weight of a body waking her; she turned over to see Sherlock sitting on the edge watching her carefully. He wouldn't have waken her without reason; she was sure of it.

"What time is it?" she muttered looking to see it was half past four in the morning. Hell, had she really slept that long? "Sherlock? What's wrong?" she asked seeing the telltale signs of worry.

"Damon's been poisoned," Sherlock told her calmly. "He's in the hospital; I believe it was Ursa."

"What?" Jen whined sitting up straight. "Is he okay?"

"He's an induced coma right now; they're doing what they can," he replied. "You can see him tomorrow."

"She's targeting the people I care about," she panicked.

"I'm close to finding her," he lied to her to calm her down. She needed to remain calm, or she would do something stupid. "I will get her before she gets any closer to you."

"I know," she answered. Her faith in him was unwavering, and it put more pressure on him, but more pressure rushed him to figure this out. He stood to leave, but she wrapped her hand around his forearm. He paused looking down to her. "You've been working all night; you should sleep. Your mind is no use in an exhausted state."

"I think you've slept enough for the both of us today," he answered. "I have to get back to work."

"Sherlock," she growled pulling him refusing to let him go, "you need to sleep or you're going to end up in the hospital." She looked up at him with doe eyes as she always did to try and get her way. "Stay with me." It was more of an order than a request, and with a sigh, Sherlock took off his jacket throwing it aside.

"Just a few hours," he told her before Jen leaned over to set the alarm clock on the night stand. "You don't need to worry about that," he informed her. "Internal alarm clock accurate to a tenth of a second."

"Well, that's handy," she mused before setting the alarm clock back on the nightstand.

"If it's convenient, I could sleep on the couch," he told her lingering on the edge of the bed sufficiently making it awkward for the both of them. Luckily, Jen was bold.

"No," she smiled before slipping back under the quilt. She patted the spot next to her, and he sat at the edge of the bed removing his socks and shoes before he pulled back to quilt and lay next to her. "Do you think this is what Moriarty wanted?" she asked staring at the ceiling on her back. He did the same with only their shoulders touching.

"I have no doubt that it had something to do with Raine Agile, but what exactly isn't coming quite together as neatly," he admitted. "Are you scared? It's a perfectly natural response to fear death."

"I'm not scared to die," she answered. "I'm scared of who I will drag down with me before then. I've already watched my father and brother die as well as my lover and numerous friends. I don't know how much more I can bear to be honest; I'm not made of stone. The cracks will get bigger until I shatter, and even all the king's men can't put me back together again."

"Maybe not all the king's men, but then again, I've never been one of the king's men," Sherlock replied making her smile knowing he was there on her side no matter the cost.

"What if Damon dies from the poison?" she asked switching the subject.

"It would be undeniable proof of the incompetence of the hospital staff," he answered making her chuckle. She turned over on her side to look at him.

"And if she targets you?" she asked furrowing her eyebrows as a frown set on her face.

"I'll beat her in a game of wits," he assured her.

"She's not all about games like James," she answered. "She'll have you shot if she gets the chance."

"Yes, but," Sherlock said turning on his side to look at her, "she had the chance earlier to shoot me, but she informed me that she was simply interested in me. She desires something more than to simply shoot me."

"That's not a good thing, Sherlock," she replied. "Whatever she wants, it can't be good." He watched her hand twitch, her eyes droop in worry, and he gently reached out a hand to up her cheek as he ran a thumb under the shadows that had begun forming under her eyes. She was sleeping an excessive amount, yet it looked like she hadn't slept a day.

"You're worried about me," Sherlock recognized quietly.

"Yes," she replied simply. "I don't want to lose you again." She didn't let him reply as she grabbed his shirt and pulled herself against him. She didn't want to talk about it anymore. She buried her head against his chest, and she felt him let out a sigh in frustration. It was frustration that he didn't really have a choice in the matter now; he had agreed that he loved her opening up the realm of possibility between them. Though both, for the time being with everything happening around them, seemed to remain at a standstill, it wasn't. This in itself was a huge step.

Sherlock had purposely chosen a room with one bed, and although a large part of him would deny the reason was to end up in the situation they were now currently in, he knew there was no other explanation for the behavior other than they would be forced to share a bed at some point. Though, of course, he would adamantly refuse it had anything to do with sex, and more to do with her being near him, closest to him when she was most vulnerable. You can learn a lot about a person when they slept. Still, the bed was big enough for the both of them to sleep without touching, but instead, they were now entangled after Sherlock shifted onto his back and slinging his arm around her as she clung onto his shirt as if she feared he would evaporate. Her head was purposely placed on his chest allowing her to be lulled to sleep by the ever repeating hum of his heart.

Jen was asleep first allowing him to observe her and realize he was in trouble. He had fallen victim to love, and it terrified him especially as the woman currently in his arms had become a target. He couldn't lose her; he couldn't. He convinced himself that if he didn't admitted he loved her that he would be safe in the event of death, but he was vulnerable during that moment together in the cave. He figured if they were both going to die what was the point in holding out? The feeling flooded him, and now that they were out of danger, the feeling poisoned him.

He swept his thoughts under the rug to be analyzed another day before he went through the process of relaxing his body even under her grip. He fell into the sandman's heavy arms.

When he awoke, Jen was gone and the window was wide open. Sherlock sat up in alarm before practically falling out of bed.

"Ginny," he called out before he stepped out of the room to see the empty room, "Ginny?" He started to panic. He could feel his heart rate elevating and his lungs compress, but the crash of a pan on the ground caused him to focus his attention to the kitchen. "Ginny?"

"What?" she asked popping up from kneeling on the floor behind the counter. She was holding a bowl staring at him with wide eyes.

"Are you wearing my shirt?" he asked honing in on the first thing he noticed. She was wearing his white button up that succeeded in teasing him as it barely covered any of her legs.

"Well, I have no clothes," she reminded him before she scrambled around what appeared to be eggs on the stove. "I was going to make fried eggs, but that was beyond my skill," she teased as he sat down at the counter to watch her efforts to make breakfast.

"How long have you been up?" he asked noting the muffins, burnt sausage, pot of tea, burnt hash browns, and toast. She was trying to focus on other things to segregate herself from her fears.

"Um… a couple hours," she shrugged as Sherlock picked up a muffin. He inspected it before attempting to take a bit out of it and discovered they were rock hard. He slammed it down on to the counter a couple times before looking up at her.

"I think you could patent your muffins as weapons against terrorists," he informed her.

"Shut up," she laughed.

"Shut up, or you'll throw a muffin at me," he encouraged before throwing the lot of them in the garage knowing they were not salvageable.

"What is the plan for today then?" she asked him curiously as she slid the eggs onto a plate and picked up a piece of toast to munch on despite all the semi-edible food surrounding her.

"I need you to go through everything you know about her," Sherlock told her. Jen nodded slowly before she moved her way toward the room before she picked up a black metal box from the side table. It had survived more than two bombings through the years. Sherlock watched her removed the key from around her neck and opened the lock box. Jen slammed a file down on the counter before shutting the box once again.

"This," she tapped the file, "is everything I have from Shadow including every piece of information I have on Raine Aigle. It's not a lot, but it's what I have." He slid the file away from her before he turned to go to the board he had already laid out for the case. Sherlock spread the file over various tables, so he could see everything. There wasn't a lot, he decided. There were a few blurry pictures and a few brief reports on 'suspected activity' including bombings, kidnappings, and just all around hell raising.

"What are you doing?" he asked watching her shimmy on the only jeans that had made it out of Baker Street.

"I'm going to visit Damon," she answered pulling on her jacket.

"You can't go alone," he told her properly facing her now.

"Sherlock, I'm fine," she smiled.

"She's dangerous," he replied approaching her quickly knowing exactly what they were both facing, "she's brilliant-"

"Well, I think you just might be in love with my arch-enemy," she said being a tad bit dramatic before let a smile break across her face. "I think you might have to prove otherwise," she informed him before a hand wrapped around his neck into a kiss just as good as the first, of course without the potential life and death thing.

"Ginny, I," he breathed pulling away letting her kiss his jawline. "Ginny, not now," he informed her gripping her shoulders and pulling her away from him.

"Now… later," she teased. "What does it matter?"

"I can't think with you… clouding my judgment. Until Raine Aigle is in jail, I would rather we not address what happened in the tunnels," he informed her.

"I cloud your judgment?"

"You are in fact very distracting," he informed. "With your lavender soap and dainty hands… get out!" he shouted at her pushing her out the doorway deciding that it was far better if she was as far away from him as possible while he attempted to use his mind. "Go, get out! Go see, Damon! You're distracting!"

"I could take off my clothes, and we could measure your level of distraction then," she told him teasingly as he slammed the door behind him taking a breath as he leaned against the door. He could hear Jen laughing.

Sherlock shuffled his hair before he walked back to the papers. He sort them out by use and then pinned some of the most useful ones before he quickly dived into his mind palace to find something of use...

Sherlock stared at the woman in front of him. Raine Aigle, also known as Ursa, wasn't obeying his thoughts as she sat on the desk with her legs crossed a flirty yet dangerous smile. It was the smile she wore in Baker Street while she was mocking him. He stared at her in challenge, and she gladly held the gaze.

"You were Moriarty's lover," he mused pacing in front of her. "So this is revenge for killing him?"

"Don't be so simple," she answered with a smile. "You know I don't seek revenge. You can tell that just by knowing Moriarty. I am Moriarty, so you must ask: what would Moriarty do?"

"But you aren't him. Ginny said so," Sherlock answered as he turned to find Jen sitting on the desk in front of him not far from Raine Aigle.

"Do you believe everything I say, Sherlock Holmes?" Jen asked him with a smile. He paused for a minute before Ursa called out to him.

"She's a liar," Ursa sang. "You know that."

"Do I?" he asked turning to her. This was his knowledge. If they were telling him that he's noticed Jen lying, then she had been lying.

"Of course," Ursa and Jen said at the same time.

"You know that what I've been saying about Ursa is all lies," Jen answered simply. He had been thinking that for a while now. "There are too many discrepancies."

"But when you speak about her, none of your ticks show up," Sherlock replied not understanding.

"You know better, Sherlock," Mycroft told him as he appeared on the platform. "If she shows no signs of lying, but you know she is, what does that mean?"

"She was trained to lie," Sherlock quipped back obviously.

"Or?" Mycroft pressed.

"She thinks she's telling the truth," Sherlock replied. He glanced at Sherlock as if saying well. Sherlock spun back to the two women. "Blackouts," he breathed pointing to Jen. "You have blackouts, suppressed memories. Do you have any during the time of Shadow?"

"I told you, for me, that was the worst year except for the year Connor Waite was killed," Jen answered.

"There's something you've missed, something important trapped in your memory," Sherlock told her. "What is it?" She smiled at him gingerly.

"I am missing nothing," Ursa and Jen said in unison.

"You are missing something," Jen laughed. "Something you know but refuse to see, because you are scared. You love me, and you don't want it to be true, but I'm sorry. It is, and you know that. You need to shut your fear."

"Scared? Scared of what?" Sherlock demanded at the woman, who knew something he was suppressing. Knowledge he refused to acknowledge. What was he not willing to admit to himself to solve this case? Jen's life was on the line.

"Seven," Raine answered simply. Seven magpies.

"A secret never to be told?" he whispered before a shrill ring pulled him from his mind palace just when he was asking the right question. With a scowl, Sherlock went to his phone and opened the text from Jen.

I'm sorry.

Sherlock didn't even need a single second to comprehend the text as he quickly called her before using a computer to try and find her using her cell phone gps, but the signal was gone. She fell off the grid, and Sherlock Holmes felt himself start to panic.

Her phone rang in her hand; she stared down at it before tossing it at the woman's feet. Ursa's makeup was heavy, and she wore nothing but black boots, jeans, and a tanktop despite the cold. She was intimidating, and there was such a look of beautiful chaos and madness about her that no one could deny the monster she could be.

"What will you do?" Jen asked her as Ursa picked up the phone and tossed it in the Tames knowing the location could easily be found out. "Will you kill me?"

"Don't be so boring," she answered rolling her eyes. "It's about winning the game, and I can't do that with you dead."

"I don't understand," she replied with a deep frown.

"I know," Ursa said with a sigh. She sounded almost upset with this acknowledgement, "but I'm counting on your lover to understand."

"Leave him alone," Jen warned her. Ursa shook her head.

"I have no intention to kill him either," she rolled her eyes tired of the woman's stupidity, "but I need you out of the way. He'll figure out." Jen didn't get the chance to answer as in a single moment of pain she blacked out.

A/N: Ah cliffhangers. This part of the story shall be short. We'll be moving on to part three after next chapter (me thinks). That will either be the last part to this story or the second to last part (haven't decided yet) but it will also be the longest as there's a lot to cover.

And I know. I finally get them together, and then we have this. I'm not fair; I'm sorry (I'm not sorry).

Thanks to reviewers: Skye, short-skirtbluescarf, willow rain98, zare . downey . okumura, TinkerbellxO, scarlet tribe, hannahhobnob, and kawaiixkisses. See you all next Friday!