Raine sat in front Damon observing him carefully. She had rudely interrupted one of his meetings. The bodies of the other participants of the meeting were scattered on the floor without life in them. He currently had a gun barrel pressed into his skull by Jax, but from Damon's composure, you would think this was another day in the office. It wasn't the first time he had his left threatened in his own office, though he would rather be threatened outside of the place he calls his own.

It was nearly two months into the time limit, and she had decided that the trio: Sherlock, Damon, and Ulric were getting in her way too much. They were planning something, and whatever it was, it was going to be trouble for her. Threatening Sherlock was pointless. She promised him no harm for the three months; she would keep that promise. She had nothing to threaten Ulric with; he had no one really left. So that left Damon; he had plenty of people she could threaten him with.

"Pleasure to see you, too" Damon told her cheekily as he took a sip of his tea. It was getting cold much to his displeasure. He gave it a look of disgust but shook his head and continue to sip it.

"You're in my way," she answered his unasked question of what she wanted. He wasn't incredibly interested; he was sure she was simply being over-dramatic. Raine was prone to that sort of thing.

"I wasn't aware I skewed your plans so much," he mocked only to have the gun pressed harder into his head. He glanced up to Jax in annoyance. He grunted in return making Damon roll his eyes and turn his attention back to Raine.

"You're contacting people, talking to them, giving them ideas," she told him. "I am not naïve, Mr. O'Hera. If anyone knows how to get Ginevra back, it's you. You know her better than anyone."

"Well, I wouldn't say that," Damon replied sipping his tea again as he thought of Sherlock, who, especially recently, was so very determined to help her. Sherlock was much more clever and much more devoted than himself. If anyone could help her, he could.

"Don't patronize me," she sneered annoyed with how light he was taking her threats.

"Then don't press a gun to my head," he retorted becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the barrel reminding him he was just a single movement from having his brain paint the wall.

"I'm not. Jax is," she replied before waving her hand to Jax, who removed the gun from Damon and threw himself in a corner seat. He would have his use in a moment. "I want you to stay out of my business," she informed him as she took up a cup and saucer of one of the fallen men's. She pulled out a handkerchief and gently wiped the rim before putting it to her lips staining the cup with her red lipstick.

"I can't do that," Damon answered shaking his head. He would be honest with her; he was always honest to those he did business with. "I care about Ginevra, and I won't let you just walk around forever as her. She needs help."

"She doesn't want help," she told him with a sigh as she crossed her legs. She was willing to negotiate, but if he wasn't, it would end badly for him. If she wanted help, I wouldn't be here, so clearly, she doesn't want it, and if you try to force it, it will not help her. It'll hurt her."

"And you won't?" he argued.

"Never said that, but at least, I won't put a gun to my head. No guarantee she won't," Raine informed him making him sigh. She was right. The first time Ginevra was herself in years, she took the opportunity to try and kill herself.

"I just want to help her," he breathed out not willing to leave this alone. "I adore her; she is like a sister to me. I would do anything for her."

"Then do this for her," Raine answered simply. "Leave her alone; leave me alone. This is our life not yours."

"I won't give up on you," he leaned forward to close the gap between them, so he could speak quieter to her without the intrusion of Jax. He wished to appeal to the side that Jax nor anyone outside of those she considered family knew.

"Even if I threaten you?" she asked curiously tilting her head.

"Unless I'm dead, I won't," he replied shaking his head. A smile slowly formed on her face; he didn't like it.

"I was hoping you would say that," she admitted. "What would you do if I killed your sister, Missy?" she asked making him pause and lean back to observe her. Ginevra cared for Missy and adored her, and Raine, although certainly mad, wouldn't just kill someone for the hell of it. She did have a method.

"You're not heartless," he argued. He had seen good in her; he swore he could see good in her.

"I think you're wrong," she shot back as she gestured to Jax. He stood and gave Raine the gun as she stood. Jax stood next to Damon as the door opened, and Missy was lead in by one of the members of Damon's bodyguards. It seemed he had changed employment on him. Guns for hire were always useless like that. They do the bidding of whoever paid the highest. He should have known better.

"Damon?" she asked quietly looking to him as she stumbled forward after being pushed by the guard.

"How did you get here?" he breathed out making to stand, but Jax shoved him back into the chair and put a restraining hand on his shoulder to keep him in place. Raine wouldn't be interrupted.

"I was… Jen came and…" She looked to the woman confused asking her to explain, but she gave her a fake yawn before tweedling her fingers at her in something of a wave.

"That's not Jen, Missy," Damon told her going to stand but was pushed back. Missy looked to Raine in panic; she smiled, and Missy realized the obvious. Ginevra had told her about Raine, and how very like Peter she was, and Missy knew she was going to die.

"On her knees," Raine said before Missy O'Hera was pushed onto her knees in front of Raine. Raine loaded the gun and put the gun to Missy forehead. The girl remained calm trying to find the woman she knew, but she was nowhere to be seen expect for maybe the slight shake in her hand.

"Stop," Damon demanded in slight panic. Jax had to push him down again. Missy began to cry unable to push away her fear of death. She was scared, terrified, and it was made worse by having her death be caused by someone she cred about. Raine looked to Damon. "Stop."

"You think just because Ginevra knew her, she matters to me?" Raine asked quietly. She readjusted her hand on the gun trying to stop it shaking. "You are in my way."

"I forgive you," Missy uttered holding the barrel of the gun gaining Raine's attention. "I forgive you, Ginny. I forgive you. This isn't your fault. I forgive you." She took a deep breath staring at the girl. "This isn't your fault... this isn't your fault."

"Shut up," she snapped angry feeling her head start to pound as she started to loose all her nerve. "I've learned long ago that threatening the people my enemies love is far more effective than actually killing them. So I tell you again, leave it be."

"I'm trying to help you," Damon uttered hopelessly.

"Well, consider this a thank you," she answered pulling the trigger. The shot rang out, Raine's hand fell to the side with the gun still in it, and Missy fell to the ground as blood pooled around her. Her dead eyes stared upward at Raine. Damon let out an agonizing scream as he made to get up to hold his sister's body, but Jax pushed him down one last time. "If you pursue me," she began, but she suddenly feeling ill as Missy's eyes gazed into hers, "if you try and help me, I will kill Myra next, and if you still continue, I'll kill Jaimie and I will kill everyone you've ever loved until you are alone and empty. Good day, Mr. O'Hera." Raine turned on his heels as Jax finally allowed him to go to his sister to hold her, to cry, and to mourn.

Raine left the room alone forcing Jax away from her toward the street. As she walked down the flat of stairs, a wave of nausea overtook her, and she fell to her knees trying to breathe as the wall seemed to close in on her. She felt ill, and she felt a deep pain settle into her heart and spread through her body. She leaned against the wall clutching her head. The hallway space seemed to get smaller and breathing was getting harder. Her heart was pound and sweat dripped down her forehead. She rubbed her eyes.

'What have you done?' a voice whispered making her jump.

"Go away!" she shouted not wanting this right now. She felt miserable. Her body was seizing up and trying to shut down on her.

'You were her friend.'

"No, you were her friend," Raine snapped. "She meant nothing to me."

'You're wrong,' she whispered making Raine let out a frustrated growl before moving on to head back home, but she collapsed in the stairwell. Darkness took her in.

Sherlock stood at the window waiting for the car to come by and drop Raine off. He had received an alarming phone call from Damon O'Hera. Missy O'Hera was dead by Raine's hand. Damon had taken a step back from trying to help Ginevra; he couldn't get anyone else hurt. He couldn't let anyone else died because of this. He was leaving it to Sherlock.

He watched Raine stumble into the house. He frowned seeing something wrong with her. He turned on his heels and as he made his way toward the front door he heard the sound of something smashing to the ground. He quickened his pace to find Raine on the floor crying with her hands bloody with a smashed lamp next to her.

"Ginny?" he questioned quietly. "Ginny? What happened?"

"I killed her," she whimpered cradling her head in her hands as she began to rock. "I killed her; I killed her; I killed her."

"Missy?" he assumed.

"Raine shouldn't have; Raine shouldn't…" She tried to find her words but seemed to be at a lose.

"Ginevra?" he asked surprised that the woman in front of him was not Raine, and the woman looked up to him. She looked torn apart as her eyes darted around frantically trying to find some for of salvation around her. Her eyes locked onto his.

"Sherlock," she cried out. He gripped her hand in his pulling it away from her hair as he tried to keep her there, but she was fading quickly as Raine began to come back.

"Stay," he ordered as he saw the panic and sadness drift from her eyes to be replaced by steel. "Stay," he begged, but she was gone.

"How the hell did I get here?" Raine asked looking around. "And why is my hand bleeding? What did you do?" she demanded of Sherlock finding it to be the only logical explanation.

"I did nothing," he told her annoyed with why she couldn't see that she needed to be Ginevra. "It appears you're losing control."

"I'm not losing control," Raine snapped standing pulling her hand out of his. "I'm fine."

"You can keep telling yourself that," he called after her, "but it's obvious you lack control."

"You only say that because you want Gina back," she scoffed stopping on the stairs to mock him. "You won't get her."

"I don't want her back; I want Ginevra," he told her.

"She's too ill to want you," she told him quietly.

"I'll take her even if she is ill. It makes her interesting," he answered. She seemed to pause in contemplation for a moment wondering why someone would want someone so damaged before she rushed off. He stood and checked she was gone before he pulled his phone from his pocket.

"What is it?" Mycroft asked not even bothering to greet him. Whatever Sherlock wanted, it couldn't be good.

"Brother of mine, you and I need to have a talk," Sherlock told him.

Sherlock sat in front of Mycroft in his office in the back of the Diogenes Club. He had no love of the place, but he needed Mycroft if everything was going to work correctly. He had Ulric but lost Damon in the fight. He needed Mycroft on board with him.

"I presume this is about Ginevra," Mycroft mused knowing the lengths he was willing to go for this woman. He didn't understand it, but he certainly knew his adoration for the woman.

"My time ends in less than a month, Mycroft," Sherlock told him with a sigh. He was getting frustratingly close to the end, and he had to call in his resources. "I have learned her, I know her, and I can save her."

"And what makes you think that?" Mycroft asked. "She killed Missy O'Hera just the other day, and you think its still possible to help her? Sherlock, she is a lost cause."

"She's not," Sherlock told him. "For just a minute, Ginevra was there. She felt guilt over Missy's death; it was enough to get a glimpse at her."

"So what do you purpose?" Mycroft asked though he wasn't really willing to hear the idea. He thought it was a waste, and that it was time the authorities took matters into their hands. He wanted her put into a secure mental institution, where maybe she could get profession help and be away from the general public.

"To break barriers, she has to kill someone. Someone Jen, Ginevra, and in some aspect, Raine, cares for," Sherlock hypothesized. He had this idea months ago, but Missy's death only strengthened this theory.

"And that would be whom?"

"Me," Sherlock answered obviously.

"You? Sherlock, what do-" he began, but Sherlock cut him off.

"If she shot me, point blank, it would be enough. It would break the barriers she's put up," he argued. "It's the only logical way."

"You want her to kill you?" he questioned outraged with this plan. Whether he knew it or not, Sherlock's death would break his heart.

"I want her to shoot me, and I want her to think I have no chance of surviving, but I need an ambulance with the best people ready to treat me, or I will die."

"This is a bad idea, little brother," Mycroft told him not happy that the idea even entered his head. "She's not worth you dying."

"Yes, she is," he argued.

"No, she's really not," Mycroft informed him. He needed to end this ridiculous fantasy. He had to let her go.

"Mycroft," Sherlock breathed looking anywhere but at his brother as he sucked up his pride and practically begged him, "Mycroft if... if she was to die... if she was to turn on me forever... I could not continue forward. If you think Enola's death was hard on me, this will be a hundred times harder. I cannot help that I love her. I wish I could; I did not ask for this. I did not want to care for anyone like I care for her. I knew it would ruin me, but it is too late now. If you don't help me, I'll go in there, and I'll get myself shot whether there is someone to help me or not, because if I loose her, my mind will cave in on itself. I could not bare her lose... Please." Mycroft observed his little brother. This was his decision even if Mycroft did not approve. If Sherlock lost Ginevra, he would loose Sherlock.

"Just an ambulance?" he wondered why he couldn't get one himself.

"A few snipers might be nice... just in case of Jax or anyone," Sherlock told him needing to prepare for the worst.

"And?" he questioned knowing there had to be more.

"I need her to stay out of jail," Sherlock answered, "when she likely attempts to burn all of London."

"Sherlock-"

"I already have the help of Samuel Owens also known as Ulric to clear anything detrimental from her files and to keep the CCTVs off of her, but I need your protection just in case," he asked. Mycroft sighed.

"When?" Mycroft asked admitting defeat. He would help his little brother even if it was the death of him.

"When my time expires," he answered, "I'll confront her."

"Fine, you'll get what you want," Mycroft told him before waving him away. Sherlock paused. He rarely showed his gratitude, but this time, he would... for Ginevra.

"Thank you," he said not looking at him before leaving the Mycroft to his work and his worries.

A/N: Ah, yes, we have one more chapter left in this part (I'm pretty sure) and then we have one part in this particular story. There... may or may not be a sequel. I have yet to decide, but there are plenty I could use... but I think it would be less plot based and more... sort of random individual chapters telling different events. I'm unsure.

Thanks to reviewers: hannahhobnob, short-skirtbluescarf, and Dream01. See you all Friday!