By the time Maria made the University she was slightly calmer, but not by much. The phone rang the moment she entered her office. Answering it, she quickly hung up on Michael. After the third call she called Cheryl and requested that all her calls go through the switchboard, and that she wasn’t taking any calls from Detective Guerin today.

Maria tried to calm down enough to go through some of her workload when her cell phone started ringing. “Maria?” She just shook her head and disconnected. But that didn’t stop him. He kept ringing and finally in a fit of anger, she threw the phone against the wall.

Tess walked in just as the phone hit the wall. Ducking in alarm, Tess looked at the phone and the angry Maria.

“Yeah, I hate it when they fly like that.” Maria just sat down and gripped her chair trying to quell the rising tremors. “You okay?”

“No. No. I’m not.” Maria took large calming breaths, and tried to settle her stomach. There was no use abusing Tess in Michael’s place. God that man got under her skin at times. “Look, I’ve got an hour before my next class right? I think I’ll go over to the staff dining room and have a little breakfast.”

Tess watched her go, curious over what was going on. Maria’s mood was so black and unusual for her, that even Kenneth Price who seeing her had started in her direction, quickly changed his mind and went the other way. Maria was on her second breakfast, and a nice hot cup of tea when her day took yet another turn for the worse. Gerald Tiny came through the door, and seeing her, was making his way to join her like the Titanic heading full steam into an iceberg.

~~~

Max watched as Michael tried Maria again. “Would you stop it? Give her some time to calm down, and talk to her later tonight.”

“I should call her and let her know I’m working late tonight.”

“Michael, focus! Work! Murders! She’ll be fine.” Michael finally settled down to do some work. All the preliminary reports were back on the two women. They had nothing in common except that the last place they were seen was in Club Hell.

Sean was running missing reports for the last few years. Maria had been right, the dumping was wrong. For some reason these women where dumped beside garbage skips, but that didn’t negate the possibility of other victims that weren’t out there hiding under the guise of being runaways or missing persons, much like Krystal Whitman's case began. Without a body or evidence of foul play, missing persons would remain categorized as "Missing Persons" indefinitely.

Max picked up the phone on the second ring before Michael could grab it. It wasn’t Maria. It was Liz. After talking to her for a few moments, Max hung up and accessed his interdepartmental mail for the report Liz just sent them. Maria’s bug juice was a dead match for the shellac covering the two women. “Parker matched the Professor’s bug juice to the coating.”

Michael stood up suddenly. “Let’s go visit the Bug guys she gave us a card for at the University.”

Max frowned at the word ‘University’ and began to suspect an ulterior motive.

“Michael...” Max said to the receding back of his partner. “Come on, Kyle. This should prove interesting. Hey, Phone Boy, give us a jingle if anything comes up.” Kyle waved goodbye to his partner. Poor Sean, everyone felt for him. No one liked to be on desk duty only.

The Bug guys were two entomologists working in the Biology Department at UNM, Roswell. Jeremy and George were nothing if not enthusiastic. They showed the three detectives around their labs and explained the processing of samples. Michael noticed a white bucket under the lab table.

“What's that?”

George looked down at the bucket while pushing his glasses up his nose. “Garbage, it’s for the tossers.”

“Tossers?” Kyle asked looking at the pinned samples. They were incredibly preserved and so colorful. He hadn't realized that butterflies were so diverse.

Jeremy nodded as he passed everyone a cup of coffee. “Those are the kills that have blemishes. We usually process the sample, and then carefully mount and examine it. We sometimes photograph too if it's utterly unique and rare. Real collectors will look for the most perfect sample, and a blemish or scar can really throw off the value of a collection.”

Jeremy sat on the side of the table. He was a smaller man than George with a hint of Hispanic ancestry, Hispanic and German. He also had glasses, but his were a special pair hanging from his neck. Michael could tell that the glasses were used for a specific purpose since the lenses were thick and unusual.

“George, remember that Ecuadorian dung beetle we tracked for three days, and finally caught to find it had lost an antenna sometime before? What a disappointment.”

“Crushing.” Michael said looking the men over with interest. Both men were meticulous in handling all materials. George was showing Kyle and Max how samples were pinned and Michael noticed that his tools and equipment were not only used, but placed carefully back almost in the same spot they had originally been.

“What would determine when a sample isn’t worth keeping?” Michael asked quietly.

“The collector would.” Jeremy said. “Each collector has his own agenda, or set parameters of what they're looking for. I know some who only collect exotic butterflies and moths, and others who have a total love of roaches.”

“Do you process the internal organs?” Max asked George.

“Normally, no. Though there are some larger specimens that might need it. The thing with insects is that they will desiccate. You have to worry about caving in the larger specimens as they age, so taking out the internals and using foam filler is the best route. I think the taxidermists do it more often, stuffing large meaty specimens.”

Michael moved in closer. “Do you have any of the foam filler?”

George just shook his head no. “Not really. We don’t process anything that big to warrant the expense, but I think Zoology might. Let me go check.” Michael gestured to Kyle to follow the man as he went out.

Max and Michael watched as Jeremy packed up them some samples of other materials used in the processing technique. He also included a list of their favorite suppliers.

“So Detective,” Jeremy said to Michael as Max packed up the specimens to be delivered to Liz’s lab. “I don’t know if you remember me, but I recall meeting you at the staff Holiday Party this past year. You were Professor DeLuca’s date.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, we live together, getting married.”

“Really! I hadn’t realized that. Well congratulations are in order than. We love Maria. She a wonderful educator, and a great person just to know. George and I also seek her out in the staff dining room.”

“I’m sure she appreciates that.” Michael made a note to himself to practice coming to the University more often for lunch. This staff dining room sounded sort of shady.

“Michael.” Kyle stood in the doorway with a sample of foam filler. It was pink, and filled up the entire area of the specimen jar.

They stayed with the Bug guys for a few more hours, and then went to talk to members of the Zoology Department. Michael was fascinated by the meticulous work and time it took to process the specimens.

“It’s more than time, Detective,” said George. “It also takes a lot of work to find the correct sample or specimen. We use killing jars in populated areas, but even after a few nights or even longer, you might only find a few possibilities. Out of those few, if you’re lucky, one will be a keeper.”

“What do you mean by 'populated areas'? Just anywhere there are lots of bugs?” Michael couldn’t grasp the concept of putting all that time into something that wouldn’t pan out.

“No, just anywhere. There are known areas, hunting or killing zones. These zones for bugs and insects are usually under well-lit areas at night, like street lights. But the best type of zone is the one you create yourself.” Jeremy took out a special light and turned it on. “We’ll go out to wooded areas or the desert, hook this to a battery, turn on the light, and put a special attractant in a killing jar and sit out there for hours. End of the evening or early morning, we cover the jar and go home.”

“So you know what’s out there, what you can catch?” Kyle asked sitting down on the edge of the table. That seemed like a random sampling method.

“Well you’ve got an idea what’s in the area. Obvious specimens from Mexico are rarely found in killing jars in New Mexico. The next day is the kicker, the pay off. It’s like a general grab bag. You don’t know what you've caught, so you anesthetize the jar by dropping in a special agent. I like the stuff we used on Drosophilae because it's fast and you can control the amount to either put to sleep or kill.”

Max was writing notes, but stopped at Jeremy’s lecture. “Drosophilae?”

“Common fruit fly, but in truth there is nothing common about it. The number of species within the genus alone is...”

“Professor.” Michael warned, interrupting the man. He was very familiar with the beginnings of a lecture that could wind out of control and last for hours.

“Sorry. As I was saying, you can control the drug. I use the killing jar with a special sponge where drops of the drug can be dribbled into the jar. The real fun is afterwards. You look at your catch.”

George smiled. “It really is like Christmas-opening a present and finding a whole world of possibilities.”

Michael frowned. “And if a specimen isn’t up to snuff?”

“You toss it out,” said George pointing to the white bucket under the table. Michael, Max and Kyle shared silent looks.

By the time they returned to the PD, Sean had amassed great quantities of information and reports for them. Michael tried to convince Max and Kyle to stop and see Maria, but they talked him out of it. They turned over the new samples to the lab, and took Sean on an early dinner break. It was going to be a long night.

~~~

Maria walked into the CrashDown and looked for Liz. Not seeing her, she took a seat and began looking through the menu. Strange, but she hadn’t been to this diner since that first time with Dianne and Roger. After Dianne was murdered last year, it was hard to remember the last place they dined together. The menu looked the same. Michael loved it. Maria quickly pushed thoughts of Michael to the side. Her anger at him was slowly bleeding away, but it was hard to deal with his bulldozer tactics for everything.

“Maria.”

“Hi, Liz.” Maria smiled at her friend.

“Did I keep you long?”

“Not long enough, I’m still looking at the menu. You’ve got the inside scoop. You want to recommend anything to me?”

Liz laughed and sat down at the front counter with Maria. “All the pies are great, but otherwise stay away from the Saturn rings because they're deep fried in grease, and too addicting.”

“Just when I’m in need of some good totally worthless calories from fats and sugar, but I’d hate to become a slave to a fascination for Saturn Rings.”

Maria couldn’t decide. Her lunch of a sandwich wasn’t holding her. She had been so upset that she couldn’t really eat. Now she was starving, and the notion of eating for two hit her.

“Maria, let's move to a booth. That way we can have more privacy.” The two women moved, and Maria looked at Liz critically. In the last year, the woman had improved, become more outspoken. But even with those changes, she was still a meek and unassuming person.

As Maria was sucking down a chocolate malt, eating pickles with ketchup and Tabasco, and consuming two large cheeseburgers, she noticed Liz fidgeting.

“What’s wrong, Liz?”

Liz didn’t want to tell Maria because Maria hadn't mentioned it. Liz assumed she didn’t know. “Sean and I broke up.”

“I know, or maybe I should say, I assumed.” Maria said quietly worried that her friend was having a hard time with things. “You want to talk about it?”

“Yes.” Liz paused and then said, “No. Okay maybe.” Liz groaned. “I don’t know. It’s just that I see him at work, and half the time I’m not sure what I should do. Should I be his friend only, or...damn, I shouldn't ask you, because it’s unfair. You’re his family. And if we don’t leave soon, we’ll miss the movie.”

“Liz, you’re family too. True, Sean is blood, but friends are the family that you choose. And for the movie? Screw it. Movies come and go. There’s always videos.”

Maria looked at the young woman that in some ways had replaced her best friend, Dianne. And yet, didn't. Dianne had been vibrant and alive, full of living, and Liz Parker was still a walking ghost, waiting for something or someone to save her. But every once in a while Maria saw the glimpse of the woman that Liz could be, shining out from inside, trapped.

“Liz, don’t tell me what you think I need to hear, or what you think you should do to be proper and polite. Tell me what’s in your heart.”

“I don’t understand.” Liz was confused. What did Maria want her to do?

“Talk to me from the heart, Liz. Put away perfect Liz Parker, that person that does what everyone wants her to do, who's afraid to be flawed and human, and speak to me from your heart.”

Liz said softly, “I’m far from perfect.” She unconsciously was stroking the scar across her throat that almost killed her a year ago, and left her the legacy of a huskier voice.

Maria reached across and removed Liz hand, holding it in her own. “Our scars, they define us Liz, teach us that we can survive. Don’t let it be the flaw that wounds, but the one that strengthens. It’s just a scar, and in time it will fade, or you could have it removed with laser.”

“I know. It’s just...I don’t know. I can’t help but feel ugly.”

“You’re far from ugly, Liz. You’re Sleeping Beauty, and you’ve been sleeping since you were sixteen, waiting for a Prince Charming to wake you.” Maria looked at Liz and frowned. “Does Beauty wait forever in slumber, while the Prince is fighting demons to get to her? What if the dragons are too many, the fight too long?”

“I've hated him almost my whole life.” Liz said, her voice husky with unshed emotions tethered in her soul.

“Who?” Maria shook her head. Who hurt her so deeply that she remained hating him for so long?

“My Prince Charming. I've hated him for not coming sooner, for not being there when I was sixteen to save me.” Liz wiped a tear off her cheek. “It felt wrong. I felt wrong, like my life took a turn at that junction and the turn it took was because he wasn’t there to save me.”

Maria looked at her friend sadly. “Maybe Liz, he needed to find you too. And he didn’t, and his life has been lost and confused ever since. Did Prince Charming really save Sleeping Beauty or did she save him?”

“I don’t know. It’s just a fairytale.”

“No it’s not. It’s not the story, Liz. Any person can write or build a story, but the quality and meaning behind the story is what's important. It’s not the words and how they're written that matters, but the heart and soul of the message. Prince Charming was fighting dragons, cutting through twisted vines of steel, and defeating an evil witch, but in truth he was freeing himself, not Beauty. He was freeing himself from the rigors of his brain, his mind, the part of him that tied him to responsibility and duty to his people. With life there are responsibilities and burdens placed on each of us, demands from people we love, and even from those we hardly know. But in it all, hidden deep inside, are our hearts. Our hearts rule our heads at time, but mostly it’s the purest part of us, the seat of our spirit.” Maria stopped to stack her garbage and push it aside. “Prince Charming would one day be the King he was born to be, but without his heart, without Beauty, would it ever matter? A King that can love with a full heart finds that his heart isn't confined to one person, but it’s open enough to spread to all people. Our heart gives us wings to extend beyond the toil of everyday, to see a brightness in living.”

“The brightness of living, that’s it, Maria. That’s what I want. That spark of life that makes living every day through the good and bad worth it.”

“Then do what Beauty should’ve done, if the story hadn’t been written in a sexist society perpetuated by small-minded sexist individuals.”

“What is that?”

“Wake up, Beauty! Pick up your sword, and fight that weighty drug that keeps you sleeping, battle the vines that hold you captive and meet Prince Charming half way.” Maria motioned for the waitress and asked her for a large clear cola, no caffeine. Liz asked for a cherry coke. “People who look at the hardworking, tragic Prince, and feel only for him, want Beauty to be nothing more than his prize, his reward. They reduce Beauty to nothing but a sexist puppet. If Beauty fights for herself, defines her life, and fights her way towards her Prince Charming, then when they find each other, really find each other, Beauty will be more than a person revered for her charm and grace, her ability to be ‘the little woman who captured a King’s heart and soul’, but she'll be a strong equal partner worthy of a King. She'll stand before him, a strong warrior of her own heart, showing the toughness of her metal, and her blood and sweat is an example that not only was he worth the fight, but he was her prize as well. A strong King needs a strong Queen, not some mindless puppet waiting for scraps of attention from an overtaxed hero, waiting to be saved when he gets there.”

Liz sucked on the straw in her drink as Maria rewrote and redefined a classic fairytale to fit in a more modern age. Had Beauty been sleeping all those hundreds of years to wake to a King that needed a more modern Queen?

“Sean was like an attendant standing beside my bed, holding my hand, and protecting me while I slept.” Liz looked at her friend and smiled an ironic smile. “He couldn’t be my Prince Charming because he never felt me in his heart, like I never felt him. He didn’t make me want to wake up and live. We just kept time together.”

“That time might have been necessary to regroup, to mend enough, so both of you could go on and fight. No one ever said it would be easy, or that there would never be times that you would need to take a breather.” Maria continued to hold Liz’s hand squeezing it hard, to give Liz a sense that she was real, alive. “Sean didn’t leave because of you, Liz. He left because of him. Every hero has to fight his own demons, and struggle down his own path. Your path and his crossed and you journeyed together for awhile, but there was always going to come a time when both of you would need to continue alone, because you weren’t destined to go to the same place.”

Liz grabbed Maria’s other hand and held on tight. “What should I do?”

“Wake up, Beauty. Wake up, pick up your sword, and fight to find your life, your Prince Charming. You didn’t really think you could sleep forever?”

“I don’t know how,” said Liz as a wave of helplessness overcame her.

“I’ll show you.” Maria told her distraught friend. “The path is there and all you have to do is choose to follow it.”

~~~

When Michael finally made it home it was after nine at night. The loft was dark and quiet, and Mr. Booboo met him at the door whining about being left unattended so long. Michael quickly went upstairs to change out of his day clothes and find something more comfortable to wear as the cat meowed after him, telling him of his day. Maria wasn’t home, and he experienced a moment of pure terror until he remembered that she was out with Liz.

“What do you think, Boo? Is she going to actually talk to me?” The cat calmly sat at his feet and licked his paw with refinement and an ironical lack of concern as Michael searched for food for both of them, “I was afraid of that.”

Michael pulled out the coldcuts to make himself a sandwich, but memories of lunch made him put it back. He had had an Italian sub, tuna and peanut butter with mayo. Max almost lost it, watching Michael eat that concoction, and thinking about it now, Michael had to admit he wasn’t feeling all that great either.

“Pizza. It’s time to order a pizza.” Michael looked down at the cat. “I’ll order some of that special shaved ham they use on the subs that you like so well if...if you tell me what to do.” Mr. Booboo suddenly was up and winding around his feet purring loudly until he crouched down to stroke the cat's soft coat.

“Excellent idea. Ham it is.” The cat meowed plaintively, and Michael frowned. “Smoked salmon, too? Dammit, you’re getting spoiled and fat.” The cat mewed his protest as Michael took a beer into the living room, and called in the pizza order with a generous side of shaven ham and smoked salmon.

When Maria arrived home she found Michael sitting on the sofa with his feet up, reading a book with the cat lying across his legs that bridged the area between the sofa and coffee table. Michael looked up from his reading and the two of them stared at each other searchingly.

Michael cleared his throat. “Did I mess this all up?”

“No.”

“I just wanted you to feel better about the baby and know that it wasn’t just going to be you alone, but the two of us.”

“I know.” Maria came to sit at the opposite end of the sofa and turned to look at him. Michael turned his book over on the arm of the sofa, and careful not to knock Mr. Boo off his perch, reached down and grabbed Maria’s feet dragging them up on the sofa, forcing her to lie back. Taking her feet in his lap, he removed her shoes.

“If we get married...”

“No.” Michael looked at her sharply. What did that mean? Where they over, or what? His heart shuddered in his chest, and Maria watched a dark look of pain move over his face. “I just mean no to marriage.”

“You don’t want to marry me?”

“Yes, maybe...no. Not for this reason. I don’t want to be married because I’m pregnant. It’s stupid, archaic and the worst reason any two people could have to get married.” Maria moaned as he rubbed her feet. “I won’t do it.”

“Maria, I don’t want to marry you just because of the baby.” Michael hadn’t realized how true that was. Marriage. It was a word that had never popped into his head, never even occurred to him. But once he said it, thought it, it was all he could think about. If they hadn’t been heading that way naturally, then where were they heading? The concept of her not being in his life was too impossible to even entertain.

“Yes it is, Michael. Admit it, if I wasn’t pregnant you’d have never asked. Wait-you didn’t ask, so what I mean is you never had the idea in your head.”

That was true, and he hated that it was. It wasn’t that he didn’t see Maria as forever, but until the baby it seemed like they had all the time in the world. Things had been going so well that he was caught up in it. The baby woke him up to the concept that maybe they had stayed in one spot too long.

Michael sighed, wondering how bad this was going to go for him. “True. I guess that I was so comfortable in what we have that I didn’t feel a push to change it. But things change Maria. Now that the baby...”

“It doesn’t change a thing. The baby doesn’t change anything.”

“Yes, it does.” Maria just kept shaking her head. “Maria, I want the baby to be mine.”

“It is yours. You know that.” Maria knew what he was saying, but he wasn’t listening to her. “Nothing will change that. Not a marriage certificate or lack of one. We don’t have to be married to conceive a baby obviously, and by the same token, we don’t have to be married to deliver one either.”

“I know that, but I think we should get married anyway, to create a stable home.”

“We already have a stable home, and this baby will be loved whether we say ‘I do’ or not. You're right, our lives together have been comfortable so why mess with it?”

Michael cursed under his breath. What the hell was he thinking referring to their lives together as ‘comfortable’ like some worn old shoe? “Maria.”

“Why didn’t you ask me a few days ago? Or last week, or even last month?” Maria looked at him and shrugged. “Over the last year? Why didn’t you ask me to marry you then?”

Michael wished he had, but it was too late now. “You’re going to hold it against me that I didn’t ask before?”

“No, of course not. But you only asked now because of the baby. If I wasn’t pregnant, would you’ve asked me?”

No. No he wouldn’t have, and she knew that. He knew it too. There was no pressure in their lives to make it an immediate need, so they were sailing through their lives waiting for that magical moment when they both would want it.

“I would’ve asked eventually.” Michael said quietly.

“I know, but you didn’t. You didn’t because you weren’t ready, and maybe I wasn’t ready either. The baby changed that, and I refuse to have you by default. I want to marry you when it’s time, time for us. And I won’t marry you until then.”

“Maria.”

“No.” Michael rubbed the back of his neck.

“Okay, I heard you, but now you can hear me. We’re getting married.” Maria just stubbornly shook her head no. “Yes, we are. Maybe not immediately, maybe not until after the baby is born, but we’re going to do this. I need it. I didn’t know I needed it until this moment. I need to see my ring on your finger, and…” he held up his hand to stop her from interrupting him, “and not because I don’t think we already belong together. I need it for me, something in me. It’s another form of marking, Maria.”

She went quiet. Suddenly it became possible to almost say yes. It was like the bites, the blood, and that constant irritating need to be inside his skin, to touch it. The need was too strong to ignore, and if it extended to the whole idea of being married, she was in trouble. He was going to make a pest of himself until she finally said yes.

“I’ll think about it.” Michael nodded. That was something. There were many things about Maria, and one of the most important ones was she was fair, and if she promised to think about it, she would.

“I had a rotten day. Kiss me and make it better.” Michael said pulling her into his arms. Mr. Booboo, seeing where this was going, vacated his perch with a cat's version of a sigh.

Michael's favorite part of fighting with Maria was making up. She smiled and moved her hands over his body, kissing his mouth gently, and then again and again, each time increasing in intensity and passion. “I hated that you wouldn’t talk to me,” he whispered in her mouth.

“I hated it too. And you caused me to destroy my cell phone.” Michael’s head tipped in confusion. “I tossed it against the wall because it wouldn’t stop ringing. Who knew you could be such a bug?”

“You haven’t seen anything yet, Professor.” Michael promised. Maria just groaned. She knew it. He was going to make a pest of himself. “Um, you know those phones come with off switches, right?” Michael just laughed as Maria attacked him.

~~~

He walked through the club enjoying the noise and sounds, but mostly reveling at the vibes of panic and horror. They knew. The hunting ground was aware that it was being stalked, and somehow he hadn't expected that it would sing in his blood, this almost intolerable edge of panic, like a bird caught under glass.

Sitting up at the bar, he offered the bowl of pretzels to the woman sitting next to him unassumingly. She smiled her thanks and he smiled back slowly, letting the warmth of it reach his eyes. The first rule was to disarm and distract. So he patiently turned to look at the man drinking next to him and casually struck up a conversation.

Tonight he had something special in mind, a new desired specimen. The search for the wordsmith was tiring. The last one was perfect, or so she seemed, but then the marring of the skin hit him. They were all so imperfect, destroying what nature created. The very skin of the earth was showing the same pollutants. The need to preserve perfection, those that were still unmarred, was even more pressing. He was going to have to speed up his efforts.

Smiling at the man next to him, he ordered a new drink. “So you’re Oriental. Would that be Korean or Chinese? Japanese! What a great culture. Are both your parents Japanese?”

~~~

Maria sat on the counter drinking tea in the bathroom, watching Michael shave. It was one of her favorite things to do. The whole concept of a man still shaving with a straight razor was just too sexy to ignore.

“I was thinking.” Michael just grunted in response. “I was thinking we need to expand the loft.” Michael paused and looked at Maria.

“It’s plenty big, Maria. It’s bigger than most people’s homes.”

“I think we need a larger bathroom. The bathtub is fine, and I love the corner shower, but if we expand we can move in two dressing rooms, one on your side with lots of closet space, and one on my side with the same.”

“You already have a walk-in closet.” Maria sighed. Why did he always have to be so difficult? “I already have a closet too. A damn nice closet with built-in shelves, drawers, and enough space...if someone would stop buying me new clothes all the time.”

Maria just shrugged. Like he didn’t need them. When he had moved in with her, his clothes were shockingly pitiful, holey, and looked like he had bought them from either a second hand store or just got them from a dumpster. Maria didn’t let his complaints bother her because he wore the sweaters she bought him, dressed up when he had to in his new suits, and even though she hadn't tossed his old stuff, on most days he wore the new stuff.

“The sink space in here is awful. We run into each other all the time, and...” Maria went in for the kill. “If we expand the loft and bathroom we could put in a whirlpool hot tub and sauna. And downstairs have room to put in a weight room for your weights and stuff.”

Michael stopped shaving and looked at her. “What’s going on? Are you trying to tell me that I’m making you claustrophobic?”

“No! God, no. I just think with the baby coming, and we only have seven and a half months, that we should think about it.”

Michael looked at her closely, watching her wad the edge of her dressing gown in her hands. Nesting. He got it. She was nesting. And before it was through she would totally rearrange the entire loft a hundred times, driving him and the cat insane. Technically, the loft was hers to do with as she pleased, but they had never found that an issue. In the past all decisions affecting their home were made as a couple, especially after the fiasco of Amy rearranging their furniture that one time. He had tripped over it in the dark, landing on his head with a huge gash and it took two days to talk Mr. Boo out of hiding.

“The loft is plenty big, Maria. If you want to change something, we can empty out your office, turn it into a nursery, and move the office downstairs.” Michael thought that was a generous offer. The room that was off their bedroom had been a mystery to him for first three months of living together until one day he looked inside. The horror was too much. The room was officially her at home office, but to his eyes it was wall to wall crap. Books, artifacts, and trinkets from traveling, and even large monoliths from unknown regions. The first time he entered the room she warned him not to step back. He almost stepped into a bundle burial in the corner with burial darts included. It seemed he was on the verge of impaling himself on a dart and Maria warned him that despite being hundreds of years old, the curare on the darts was still active.

Maria shuddered at the task he was proposing. “I think it would be easier to just expand. We’re going to need an extra suite of rooms anyway off the nursery to accommodate the live-in nanny.”

Michael stopped wiping the shaving cream from his face. “Nanny? We’re not getting a nanny. And sure as hell not a live-in one.” Michael scowled at her. He could live with her, the baby and the cat, but anyone else was out of the question.

“Okay, then maybe a real nice gay guy needing a good home?”

“Maria! No. We’ll worry about making childcare arrangements later. If we need to find more space we have the entire area over the living room where another upper loft area can be built. There’s no reason to expand outward. And if you really want to worry about something, then think about how we’re going to tell your mother about the baby, and the fact you're refusing to marry me.” Michael left her sitting there to chew on that thought as he went to find something to wear.

“I possibly hate you!” Maria screamed after his back as he walked away. “That was cruel and vicious, and a damn low blow!”

Michael just smirked. Yeah, it was. Now Maria would spend the rest of the day worrying about Amy. And maybe, just maybe he could forestall her from ripping their home into a huge construction zone with dust and workers everywhere. The blow was low and dirty. But no one really fought clean, especially not with the ones they loved. Fighting a good fight meant pulling no punches, and only an idiot would try to fight a nice fight with Maria DeLuca. She won too often anyway. If he wanted to fight a clean, nice fight he would have the blood removed from his veins, ice water installed and become pretentious.

Maria sat in the bathroom fuming over his underhanded blow. Amy was going to be a problem, a real problem. She’d be on Michael’s side demanding Maria marry him immediately to the point of postponing her own wedding plans again. Mean, mean, mean! Mean man. God, she hated the bathroom tile! Maybe something more in the color peach? The bedroom color scheme was all wrong too, and those shades needed a cleaning, maybe some new paint or coating. Maria rushed off into the bedroom to find a pencil and pad to start making a list.

~~~

“Sean, you’re invited to dinner tonight,” Michael told Sean on his way to his desk. Maria had decided that they needed to practice before telling Amy, so she chose Sean, her cousin, and Isabel, Michael’s sister. It was best to start with family, and since Max already knew...

“You telling me, or asking?” Michael just rolled his eyes. These damn DeLucas and their persnickety attention to detail.

“It’s free food, do you accept or what?” Michael asked nastily. Like he really wanted to deal with another DeLuca at this juncture in his life.

“I could eat.” Michael told him the time, and hoped Maria remembered to call Isabel.

“DeLuca!” Cap’s voice called out above the usual morning bustle of the bullpen. “Get in here.”

Michael made a rude comment, and Max smirked and Kyle told his partner that he was going to get it now. Sean just waved a finger at the group and went to face the music.

“Cap?”

“Shut the door.” Jim looked up from his work on his desk at Sean. “Do you remember the Rubio case?”

Sean nodded. “Sure, it was one of my last Vice cases. Jason Rubio was a bottom feeder for Pierce’s larger corp. We busted his illegal firearms sales. He was toting Cop Killers. We couldn’t catch him, but an informant, the small time bookmaker fingered him for us, and in a large sting we took him down. He even confessed during interrogation.”

“Well being the land of the free and the home of the expedient of the law, it’s finally coming to trial. Tomorrow is the first real day after months of lengthy preliminaries, delay tactics, requests for change of venue, and jury selection. The accused pleaded not guilty despite the confession. They need you. But today, the DA’s office has requested you to meet with the new Asst. DA Julia...” Jim looked down to find the name. “MacLeod. I told them you would meet her for lunch at the courthouse.”

Sean started to protest. He hated the courthouse, and the food there sucked. Sean’s forehead wrinkled. He already did some testifying in some preliminary crap, but that was months ago. “Cap, I’ve got this murder case I’m working, and...”

“Noon. I told them you would be on the courthouse stairs at noon.” Jim made a gesture for him to scram. “And Sean, you might want to dig up your old case files about this case. The new ADA was a big time lawyer in Texas, smart and young and, I hear, ambitious. She transferred here to be close to her mom, so she isn’t happy giving up her fast-track job. Don’t make her think we’re not professionals too.”

“Best foot forward, Cap. I promise.” Sean left the office cussing in his mind all the words best left unspoken in Valenti’s presence. What the hell was his best foot anyway? He better ask Michael. For some reason that thought hit him as really, really funny.

“Michael,” Kyle looked up from checking their monitoring report. “We’ve got another missing persons report. Young Japanese male, early twenties, went missing last night. His parents are big names, so they were able to push the MP faster than forty-eight hours.”

Sean joined them as he came back to the desk. “Where did he go missing?”

“Club Hell.”

Michael swore. Club Hell again. It had to be the hunting ground. “Someone find and rouse Whitman. Ask him to come in.” Max nodded and grabbed the phone.

“Sean, you still have all the missing persons reports from the last few years floating around?” Sean nodded. “Good bring them into the conference room...” Michael looked over and called to a woman. “Rhonda what room can we have?” Michael nodded his acknowledgment. “Conference 3-B.”

Michael walked away to knock on Valenti’s door. He entered at the voice. “Cap?”

“What is it, Guerin?” Jim was ready to watch Michael try to weasel Sean out of court, but he was wrong.

“I’ve got a hunch-a real strong one-that our killer isn’t new, isn’t an amateur, and we’ve got more victims, just no bodies.”

Valenti rubbed his face. Great. Another high profile serial killer. “What you thinking?”

“He’s dumping, but lots of work went into the process. He processes them to keep. Something changed, something big, so he’s getting sloppy and dumping at random. I think some of the unsolved missing reports might be undiscovered bodies.”

“Why is he dumping them?”

Michael looked at Jim with dark angry eyes. “They were blemished, not perfect. First recovery, Janet Seers had a small birthmark on her inner thigh that was more than likely not noticeable until much later. Krystal Whitman had a tiny butterfly tattoo. He coated her body, and while preparing to process, he noticed it. He didn’t even bother to process her. He just waited until he could dump her.”

“I want this person found before the press gets ahold of it. They slime into this Department and walk away with too much information.”

“Bigger problem. I think he took another one last night. This time he took a male, Japanese, and a student at the University.”

“You, and your team need to move on this, I don’t care what it takes.”

“That’s what I need you to do, Cap. I need downstairs to process any and all missing person’s claims without the forty-eight hour wait. All missing persons need to be routed to uniforms, and us. He’s hunting, and the dumping of two bodies within a week is a lot. There’ll be more.”

“Get on it. Clean my house.” Michael nodded and was on his way out. “And, Michael,” he turned back. “Make sure DeLuca makes the noon meeting with the ADA. Defense moved the trial to late docket today. After dragging their feet for almost a year, suddenly they're complaining about the lack of a speedy trial.”

“He’ll be there. He likes pain. It should be a fun day for him.”

They worked the rest of the morning on separating out the stack of missing persons over the last two years. Even an interactive computer program running the known cases couldn’t find any common traits. The three missing persons from Club Hell were all from different social, economic, and religious backgrounds. There was nothing to tie them together except that they were all taken from Club Hell.

“Sean, lets reorganize the cases.” Sean sighed and looked at his watch. Ten more minutes, and he’d be out of there. Never thought he would see the day that he wanted to go to court rather than work a case.

“Give us a break, Guerin. We moved them into so many piles, now there’s no corresponding commonality. This case is an enigma.” Sean hit his partner on the back of the shoulders. “You’ve got Kyle folding paper cranes. In another nine hundred and thirty-seven he gets his wish. And you don’t want to know what it is.”

“Sort them by last known location. If he’s hunting, that means he has a hunting ground. Right now it’s Club Hell, three months ago it might have been somewhere else. Cases with the person leaving home, dump out of the mix. Keep only night clubs, raves, and undergrounds.”

Sean looked at Michael and nodded. That was smart. He had to hunt, a place to find them, watch them, a place that they wouldn’t be too uptight to let their guard down. A club or bar was perfect. Most of the people there were out looking for something, someone, and so if someone found them, it wouldn’t be too alarming.

~~~

Sean finally left to make his noon meeting. It was irritating to have to leave. Not only were they ordering food, but the piles were taking shape. A gruesome picture of numerous victims, all which had been ignored to date, because their bodies had never been recovered.

Standing on the steps was both a vision of beauty and a nightmare at the same time. It had to be the new ADA MacLeod. She was tall and thin, with legs that made a statement. Her features were small, delicate and well proportioned, with fine light brunette hair blowing in the breeze and sharp hazel green eyes pinning him to the wall from a distance. It was hard to miss the obvious lawyer stance, the barely controlled patience, and the Armani grey pinstripe with a short skirt showing the legs to their best advantage. Oh, it had to be Armani red label with silk inner lining rubbing up against that skin. When she walked down the steps towards him, his very observant Detective’s eye caught a tattoo on the inner thigh, high on the inner thigh.

Sean groaned under his breath. A nightmare, a total nightmare. He’d give up an entire year's wages for a moment under her hand. Or so he thought, until she spoke. The soft lilt of her voice with an almost husky Texan sound had him entranced, but the words were what knocked him over. Two year's wages, definitely two year's! Her voice was full of anger and irritation, so arousing. He was one very sick man. His therapist should’ve warned him there would be days like these.

“You’re late!” The vision looked at her watch. “It was agreed on for noon, and it’s quarter past. You might have all day to whittle away, but I do not.”

She stopped to look at he man and then rolled her eyes. Great. An idiot. He was too stupid to even babble. “Hello? Are you in there, or does English not compute? ‘No ah speaka English?’ Damn, they didn’t tell me you were developmentally disabled.” Looking at the cut across his eye and the bruises on his face she almost stomped her foot. He must have fallen off his tricycle. She looked around for his guardian or keeper. Finally she grabbed him and gave him a good shake. “Wake up, Barney. I’ve got no time for you.”

The Barney comment woke him out of his daze. What the hell? He wasn’t the resident Barney, that was Hanson. Looking at her critically, Sean decided she didn’t look that great. Well, except for the legs.

“Sorry, I was thinking over my last case. Are you ADA MacLeod?” She nodded. “Good. What can I do for you, and,” Sean looked at his watch. “...can we make it fast? I’ve got a murder case that looks serial, so I need to get back.”

“Well make time. Follow me.” Sean just shrugged and hung back a few steps to enjoy the view. Wonder if she knows the skirt rides up a bit in the back?

Sean was amazed when she led them to a local Kentucky Fried Chicken. “I hope you don’t mind Ken-tuck-y Fried Chicken? I hate the food in the courthouse.” Sean just shook his head, dumbfounded again. Not his fault. How was he to know her pronouncing the establishment's name as ‘Ken-tuck-ee’ was going to be so...stimulating? Liz used to be real slow at her speech too, but this was different. The syllables just rolled off her tongue like a caress.

“If I can’t get your attention, this is going to take longer than I’ve got time for. Detective, I asked you a question.”

“What?”

She just sighed and dug out another piece of the popcorn chicken from the large bucket, tossing a piece of Jalapeno on it before popping it in her mouth. “I asked you to tell me the circumstances that led up to your arrest of Mr. Rubio. I need all details. After a year of stalling, the Defense has finally demanded a speedy trial, and I’m on docket today, late afternoon. In addition to that, Mr. Rubio has suddenly decided to plead 'Not Guilty', after confessing to the crime. Doesn't take a genius to work out that something is up, and I need to know what.” She leaned forward on her arms and looked Sean deeply in the eyes. “I don’t deal well with surprises.”

“No surprises. Pretty standard case really. We had a witness come forward with vital information, planned a sting, and caught him on premises. Later he confessed to his unlawful actions. No big.” Sean went into greater detail as they ate. When he finally finished his chicken and the story, he wondered if she would share the rest of her chicken with him. Her bucket of popcorn chicken looked bigger than she did. But almost like she could sense his thoughts, she pulled her chicken closer. “Do you need me for court?”

“No, your testimony in preliminaries should be enough to stand. With the late start, I think we’ll be lucky to get through Opening Statements today. I do want you available tomorrow though. If there are no real surprises, I might be able to cut you loose by mid-morning.”

“I’ll be here.” Sean took the slip of information with the courtroom number, time and meeting place. “Well if there’s nothing else, Mrs. MacLeod...”

“ Ms. MacLeod. Mrs. MacLeod is my mother.”

Sean smiled his best DeLuca smile, just dripping in charm. “Good to know. See you tomorrow, Mac.” Sean walked off whistling under his breath. Yep, a total nightmare. Last thing he needed was another loose-cannon female walking into his life, but the woman did have a thing for chicken, so she was more than likely worth a second look.