“So…you got the stuff? Or am I walking away?” a darkly dressed man asked as he stood outside of his black Chevy Impala.

The man had on a thick, black leather jacket, dirty jeans and reflective sunglasses that seemed to peer back into the soul of every man, woman or child who stared into them. His black boots crunched the tiny broken pieces of asphalt beneath his feet as he shifted and looked irritated to having waited so long. He briefly reached up and scratched the dark and gray stubble on his throat before he proceeded to cross his arms over his chest.

The second individual was his stark in contrast. His was short, balding, waddling man, with a mustache that looked so greasy that if anyone tried to kiss him, they were sure to go flying off to the side. But despite his appearance, he grinned back into those reflective lenses and nodded his head. He turned and bent over to pull a up a small attaché case. In his effort to pull it up, he relieved himself of some excess gas, spouted an apology and chuckle and set the case on the car’s hood. Not far behind him were a pair of cronies that looked far more tougher and reached to shoot down any who dared to look at their boss the wrong way.

“See? Stuff is all here,” he said as he reached in and pulled out a small, yellow colored stone. For a second it looked fake, like it was made out of dyed aluminum. But it was quickly handed over to the Man with the Glasses. “Check for yourself.”

He reached out and picked it up, inspecting it up against the light. “Impressive. It looks just like real gold.”

“For all intensive purposes, it is,” the fat man grinned.

“What’s the catch?”

He grinned as he looked up at the much taller Man in Glasses and took the gold piece back from him. He reached into the case and pulled out a small bottle of drinking water. After he unscrewed the top, he began to pour the contents all over the piece of gold. For a brief second, that gold chunk glistened even brighter, as if it were a piece stolen from heaven’s road itself. But then, after another second, the water washed away all the gold, and left only a small rock in its place.

The fat man smiled at this.

“I can turn whatever I touch into gold, but the second it is touched by water, it washes away, leaving no trace of it.” He chuckled as he tossed the rock into the other’s hands. “Nice little gold counterfeit scam eh? All I’m asking is $10,000 to get you started. That means I’ll provide you with cheap watches, necklaces, whatever, which will have my little gold touch, just for you.”

The man with the glasses nodded as he took the stone back and inspected it closely in between his hands. He had seen it happen alright. It was gold one second, then a splash of water and it all melted away. That definitely would be quite the profitable scheme. People all over the city would be buying expensive looking jewelry and accessories, only to have them melt away and be useless the second they are washed or caught in the rain. Brilliant.

He just grinned as he held out his hand to shake the Fat Man’s. “All I can say is…I’ve got gold fever.”

To anyone else it was a pun, a badly timed one. But to this man it was something different. The second that he said it, his grip tightened on the fat man’s hand and before he knew it, several cars roared to life and pulled into the scene. Lights of red and blue flashed and danced along the building walls of this abandoned warehouse district, now the meeting place for most of the seedy denizens from the underbelly of New York that dared to come out here. That was precisely the reason why the police were out here in the first place, to pull one less scum off the street and intro a prison cell.

The man with the glasses grinned at the Fat Man as he looked about in a panic, his two cronies shocked and already started to run towards their car. As quick as can be, the Fat Man turned when a loud CLINK! was heard. On his wrists was a handcuff and with a quick turn, his second hand was being cuffed to the first one.

“What?! This was all a bust?!”

“Course it was, tubs.” Jorge Cervantes, the Man with the Glasses, said as he slipped his sunglasses off his head and tucked them into his jacket. “Did you really think that the MRC would not hear about this?” The detective then quickly pushed the man down onto his knees, but just as he did, he noticed one of the Fat Man’s cronies break into a run towards one of the many alleys behind the warehouses.

The detective cursed under his breath as he pulled his gun from its holster. Just as he did a second officer arrived on the scene and ran to keep the Fat Man covered while Jorge ran off after the escapee. The man had a head start but Detective Cervantes was quick on his feet. He dashed down the nearest alley he saw the man duck in through and tore off down the stretch. Up ahead he could see him running, so he chased, as hard and fast as he could. He leapt over fallen debris, boxes and crates from times long since abandoned, and ducked down over low or loose hanging pipes. Jorge could not lose this man, no matter what.

Just as the thug ducked around a corner, Jorge bolted after him and saw a doorway on the side of the building slowly begin to close. Gun at the ready, Jorge slowly approached it and began to step into the blackness inside. He was cautious, careful not to have the drop gotten on him so with gun held high, Jorge checked all his corners in the cavernous, abandoned warehouse. Webs drifted lazily in the breeze, dust flitted past the dull rays of sunlight as they shone through the dirty panels of glass. Gun aimed at all conceivable corners of ambush, Jorge stepped further in…and he had to paused.

Nestled towards the very center, practically hidden away by discarded boards of wood and metal pipes…he saw the shape of a house; a small, dirty white house, complete with a windows and a fake Astroturf lawn that was surrounded by a haphazard white picket fence.

“What the hell?” the detective muttered. His thoughts on the criminal slowly inching away, Jorge began to step forward, gun held high as he made his way towards the house, gun held high just in case. After all, he had no idea what would find in there.

Lee didn't even notice the increase in energy at first because she wasn't fully awake. She was almost never fully awake anymore, even when Anton was there. She just did not have the energy to be awake any more.

And then, she noticed it. The unmistakable feeling of energy pouring into her body. It felt amazing after so long without feeling it.

But even with this new source of energy, Lee still couldn't get up, couldn't get herself out of the blankets she was wrapped in, on the floor, next to the door in the bedroom. She didn't even know if the door was still locked, she hadn't had the energy to get up on her own to be able to even check it since the second or third day she had been trapped there.

She had to do something, though. If she was feeling someone there, someone so much closer than she had felt anyone since being kidnapped, she needed them to come closer. Hopefully, whoever it was was there to help her, but if not, as long as they came close enough, if she could touch them, even for a minute, she might be able to get out of there. If she could lift her hand to touch whoever it was.

"Help!" she tried calling, surprised and slightly horrified how it came out as simply a rasp. She had no idea if anyone would be able to hear it., but she had to keep trying, so she kept calling out, trying to make her voice louder, unsure in her own ears whether she was successful.

A house…in the middle of a warehouse…

The detective had thought he had seen a lot of weird things in his life so far, but this had really taken the cake. To anyone else this might have seen like something akin of a movie set. Maybe it was just a storehouse of old TV shows sets of something, but there was something already wrong with that scenario. None of these warehouses had even been used for storage when he was doing research on this place for the bust. It was industrial, once full of old equipment which had now been sold off and melted down or scrapped. With this in mind, Jorge knew that the house did not belong in here. Not just because the windows flickered with lights that made it appear as if someone were home, but because it was just plain out of place! And oh so creepy.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he muttered as he began to step closer to the house. His arms were lowered, but the gun was still held tightly just in case.

He wanted to call out, to see if anyone could answer back, but he still feared the criminal he chased down into this warehouse. What if he was in there, hiding out, waiting to pounce on the detective should be make a misstep? Jorge had to think smart about this. It the man had run in here, the best place for him to have hid was inside that house. It was the most logical, though stupid, place to run into. He would have to check it out.

He headed towards the front of the house and as he did, he immediately noted that the little white gate on the little white fence was slightly askew, off one of its hinges. Maybe the perp did go barreling in through here. Jorge, after a tightened grip on the gun, slowly moved into the “lawn” of the house and began to cross the pathway that led to the front door. Again, to him, this had to be one of the creepiest things he had ever seen. It sounded like…there was recording of birds chirping, signaling the coming of the morning. What kind of psychotic nuthouse was this? Carefully he reached out with one hand, placed it on the doorknob and shoved it open.

Inside was just as weird. The wood paneled walls of the living room look like something from the 70s, and the lime green shag carpeting on the ground nearly ate his shoes as he walked in. The place was sparsely decorated, a single wall clock was placed up, but it was frozen in time…5:33. The rest of the furniture and decorations were pretty simple and just as dated as the rest of the material. The shocking thing was that it was beautifully maintained with not a speck of dust anywhere in sight? For a moment he wished his own apartment was this clean! He sighed though as he wandered on, gun raised high and checking all his corners. First the rest of the living room, then a step in to check the small, badly brown tiled kitchen, complete with green refrigerator. The windows were a trip to him. They were lit from the outside and that mixed with the sound of the bird calls made it seem like morning had just risen in the center of the warehouse outside. What is this madness?

He crept further in, gun pointed towards one of two doors that were on the other side of the room. So far no sign of the perp but closed doors were never a good sign. With each step, Jorge tensed just a tiny bit more as he tried to anticipate what was going to happen next.

Lee still didn't hear anything. At least she didn't hear anything out of the ordinary, didn't hear anything that she didn't already hear every day.

But the energy she had started to feel was slowly starting to grow stronger yet. Not very strong, mind you, but it was still stronger than anything she had felt in a very long time. She knew that, unfortunately, just because she felt someone there who had never been there, it did not mean that they were here to help her. There was a possibility that they were, but no guarantee, especially after this long.

So Lee started siphoning more ,almost as much as she was able to. She needed to get out of here whether she was getting help or not. Who knew when her next chance like this would come after so long without any energy. She had been in enough horrible situations before, and had been her long enough that she knew she had to act, knew she had to do it now.

But first she needed energy, so she kept siphoning, unmoving in her makeshift bed on the floor beside the door.

Jorge ground his teeth as he stalked onward, eyes glanced about as he tried to keep everything in his line of sight. There was an uneasy feeling that pervaded his mind the second that he stepped into this house lost from the Sixties. Gun raised he checked his corners and continued to eye the two doors that were directly in front of him. Slowly he crept off towards one and strained his ears to hear something, anything that could make what was coming known to him. But try as he might he simply could not. It was too quiet in this house and it unnerved him greatly.

Once he reached the first door, he glanced over and saw that it was slightly open. Slowly he reached down with his foot, placed the toe of his shoe against it and held his gun up. Steeling up his courage, the detective gently began to nudge it open, gun pointed directly into the enclosed and blackened room. His breath caught as more and more of the room was revealed but the second the door opened all the way, he practically jumped.

“FRE–!” he stopped mid-sentence when he noted that the room was only a broom closet with a full length mirror. In the reflective surface he spied only his own reflection and the sight made him shake his head. If ever there was a more terrifying sight, he had never seen on before.

With a nervous chuckle to release his nerves, he moved back into the hall and wiped the smirk off his face. Despite the momentary sign of amusement, there was still the matter of why this house was here and where the perp he chased in was. He could not let his guard down. So, after a quick glance down the hall, the detective moved further down and towards the second closed door.

As he crept close, beads of sweat began to dot his forehead. He wanted to get out of here, that or for at least something to happen. All the silence and strange settings had started to unnerve him further. Once he was upon the second door, he gently grasped the handle and felt that it was locked. He took a deep breath. The criminal might have locked himself in there. That at least meant he was trapped, but it also meant that an ambush could be waiting for him.

“Well…only one way to find out,” he muttered to himself.

Gun tight in hand, Jorge muttered a silent prayer to himself, asked that he be allowed to see Gemma, Andrew, his sister and his own family again. Then he stepped back, gun held up, and quickly kicked out, knocking in the door but pressed himself out of the line of sight of doorway.

“NYPD! You’re under arrest!” he screamed.

After a second of silence Jorge stepped in, gun raised and pointing at all blind spots, looking for anything that could be a danger. But, as he did his sweep, he turned and near the door he spotted…

What is she doing here? he thought to himself.

Lee was actually able to hear some sounds now. Not loud, simply the sound of someone moving around somewhere outside the room she was in. But that's all that she heard, nothing else. But the energy was growing stronger, too.

Now that it was so much closer, Lee cut back on how much she was purposely trying to siphon. If this was someone here to help her, she didn't want to take too much energy from them, she just needed enough so that she could function again.

And, while she was doing so much better than she had been doing for she didn't even know how long, she still didn't quite have the energy to even stand yet. So when she heard heard the hand jiggling the locked doorknob, she scooted back, a bit further away from the door, the blankets dragging along with her.

A moment later, the jiggling of the handle stopped only to be followed by the door being kicked in. Lee jumped, squeezing back against the wall tighter as she unintentionally started siphoning more in her fear when she heard the shout. Her mind didn't even register what the words were, just that they were being yelled.

This was followed by a man striding carefully into the room, behind a gun, who was looking all over.

And then his eyes finally settled on her, still curled up on the floor near the door, wide eyes staring up at him. It didn't matter whether she knew if he would help her. She had to try, and if things didn't go well, she could always try to siphon more from him as he came closer. At least she was able to siphon from this person, and that simple fact made Lee feel so much better.

"Please," Lee said, her voice still coming out quietly, almost croaking due to the lack of use it had had. "Help me, please."

The room was sparingly decorated with barely anything, even essentials. He did not really see a bed, a television, anything at all that made this room seem homey. It reminded him of the rest of the house, a spot that was frozen in time with little to no more link to the outside world. But as he looked around, he noted one thing that was completely different from everything he had seen so far…the inclusion of an actual, living breathing person. The second he noticed that someone else besides him was in the room, he spun his gun on her. But after a fraction of a second, he saw the blanket and the wide eyes, he lowered his gun to the side.

>> "Please…Help me, please."

Jorge was still in shock as he stared at this woman. She definitely looked like she had seen better days but…how long had she been here? The room was sparse but it definitely looked like she had lived in it. But could it even be called it room? It reminded him more of a jail cell. Noting her rasping voice and pleading look she had on her face, Jorge felt his heart strings tug a little. Discoveries like this were never easy to read about, much less participate in.

But all emotions aside, he forced those down as he quickly holstered his gun and stepped towards her. To ease her, he pulled out his badge and held it up clearly so that she could see that he was legit.

“Ssh, I’m going to help you, okay? My name is Detective Cervantes” he said encouragingly. “I’ll get you out of here, I promise.” He sighed as he knelt down in front of her and helped her to pull the blanket it up. After he had done that, he flipped pulled open his coat and grabbed his radio from inside. He clicked the button to stop the static and spoke into it. “Dispatch, 10-39 in progress. Unknown female found, possible kidnapping involved. Need backup here now. Warehouse 4 in district.”

He should have waited for backup to appear first, but figuring that she was probably in here for awhile, he was sure that last thing she wanted. Besides…whoever had put her in here, he had not run into yet. Who was to say where that person had gone? It was simply better for them to head out and make it outside this damnable hell house.

“Let’s get you out of here, okay? Can you walk?” he asked as he knelt close and gently squeezed her arm in reassurance. “Can you tell me your name?”

It didn't take long for him to lower his gun, and that made Lee feel so much better. She relaxed slightly, a bit more so when she saw him kneeling down next to her, a police badge pulled out so that she could see it, saying that he would help her. Saying that he would get her out of there.

Lee sighed in relief as she leaned back against the wall, her muscles relaxing slightly, using less energy. She just sat there, siphoning, actually getting energy again, as she watched and listened to Detective Cervantes speak into the radio. Sat there, her hand coming to rest unconsciously on her stomach as she pushed the blanket away a bit more. She had no idea how far into her pregnancy she was since she didn't know how long she had been locked up, but her stomach was definitely showing the fact that she was pregnant.

But the detective seemed ready to get her out of there, leaning forward to grip her arm. The sudden flow of energy at that small touch! She had gotten so used to it with Tarin, barely noticing how the energy had increased when he touched her, but after all this time it was shocking. Invigorating.

Even with that extra energy, though, Lee shook her head when Detective Cervantes asked if she could walk. "I-I don't know," she said, hating that fact. "I have no energy..."

That wasn't entirely true, Lee had more energy now than she had in however many weeks she had been here. But before this entire ordeal, she had crashed, passed out from exhaustion when she had had more energy than she currently had.

Lee hadn't even noticed that her eyes had drifted closed until she heard the detective's voice again, asking for her name. Opening her eyes, she looked over at him once again. "Lee Brooks."

Jorge had to admit that the woman looked very tired and very alone. He had no idea why she was here but judging from the setup of the house and the fact that she was completely alone, he could only come to the conclusion that she was here against her will. He had to shake his head at her circumstances and once she responded to his question about walking, he knew that he was going to have to carry her. He only hoped that until then that whoever it was that had taken her would not return.

>> "I-I don't know…I have no energy..."

He gave her an encouraging smile and nodded his head. “That’s okay. I’m a pretty strong guy, I can take you out of here.” He had moved closer and as he did, just as he was about to move his arms to pick her up…she responded to his last question.

>> "Lee Brooks."

That name. He paused…raced through his memory trying to connect a face or an incident with that name. Just as he scooted his arms under her frame, he realized just how light and weak she felt, but still it was the name that rebounded inside his head. Carefully he lifted her up and held her close as he carried her out of the room. His eyes raced for any possible dangers. He checked shadows, corners, hallways, looking for anything or anyone who could possibly cause them harm. There was still a perp on the loose and whoever the madperson was that locked her in that room. He did not need to run her into any of that kind of danger.

He cradled her carefully as he moved across the living room, trying to keep as little of it from her sight. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you out of here and all fixed up, Ms. Brooks…”

That was when it all came back to him.

The case, the unsolved case of the missing person. He remembered her husband clearly, the sad man who had lost her. Most of all, he remembered the last thing he said to him…

“I just wanted to know that someone actually cared. That she was more than just a stack of paper…She’s a person.”

A deep sigh escaped his lips as he gentled nudged the front door open with his foot and glided out with Lee Brooks in his arms. Already the sound of the coming police sirens reverberated inside the lonely, empty warehouse. It was an encouraging sound and one that kept him moving as he carried the weakened woman with him, towards the crack of blazing daylight that peered in through the open door he had arrived from. Gently he spoke as he headed towards that salvation of light.

“Come on Mrs. Brooks, stay with me. You got a husband we need to call.”

Things were working out wonderfully. Finally. Someone else was there, someone she could siphon from, to finally gather some energy for herself. And this someone was a cop, a seemingly much nicer cop than Rupert had ever been, who was going to get her out of there.

Plus, if things did go wrong still, Lee thought as the detective lifted her in his arms, she could always start siphoning from him more than she was at the moment, and have more than enough energy to get her out of there on her own by the time her feet hit the ground.

She was finally getting out!

Detective Cervantes was rather gentle as he lifted her, a position she hated because of how vulnerable she felt in it, but at that moment did not care because of what the result would be.

Moments later, they were moving out of that room she had been trapped in for so long, and Lee could see the detective moving his eyes all around, she could only guess looking for any sign of movement that could indicate danger.

As she was carried, Lee rested her head against the man's shoulder. There was no point in using what little energy she had managed to get needlessly at this point, so she just lay there in his arms, paying attention to her siphoning to see if there was anyone else coming toward them. She knew she would not be able to help if Anton showed up, she would not know he was there by siphoning alone, at least until it was too late, but anyone else, she might be able to give the detective a heads up.

After a few moments, she heard his voice again, telling her to stay with him. It must have been because of how still she was in his arms, how she had rested her head on his shoulder and had not yet moved again.

But apparently he knew that she was married, he had changed from calling her Ms to Mrs. That had to be a good sign. "Just get Tarin here, and I'll be fine," she told him, her voice still quiet, still rough from lack of use, but stronger than it had been just minutes before.

>> "Just get Tarin here, and I'll be fine."

Jorge had heard the request but he did not respond to it right away. He was focused on getting Lee out of that warehouse. He knew probably the first thing she wanted was to have her husband there and he was going to call him, but his first priority was making sure that Lee was checked out and okay. The last thing he wanted was for her to get caught up in a survivor’s panic, where last minute people succumb to cardiac arrest the second they are close to rescue. Instead he moved as gently as he could.

The glare of the afternoon light was harsh as it filtered through between the large warehouse buildings to the point that he had to squint his eyes. But the second he walked out, the smell of the fresh air felt better across his face. He could only imagine how the woman in his arms felt being taken out from what was probably an extremely stuffy room for awhile, he had to guess. Another glance up, though, and he saw that flash of red and blue and rushing over of more police officers.

“Sir?” one of the policemen asked. “Who is this? What’s going on?”

“Possible kidnapping victim. Get Emergency services on the horn and get an ambulance here, now.” he said as he carried Lee over to one of the squad cars. An officer opened the back door for him and very gently he leaned in and set her down on the backseat. “Mrs. Brooks, we’re calling an ambulance for you okay? You just rest back here and I’ll contact your husband. I’m right here if you need anything.”

He gave her another encouraging smile than stood outside of the car door. There was a lot more he could be doing, but he was not going to budge from her. At least not until Tarin got here. He had done what he promised the man, he never forgot that case. When he had spare time, he read her file, looked at reports and wracked his brain looking for something, anything that could be a clue. So far he had found nothing…but he did not forget his promise to keep looking. And yet here he had stumbled upon her!

With sigh, he snapped open his cell phone and called the MRC offices. “Carol? Yes, go to my desk and connect me to Tarin Brooks. His number should be in file. We have news concerning his wife.”

Lee squeezed her eyes closed tightly against the sunlight that suddenly flashed across her face. Sun and fresh air! She smiled, even as she felt a whole crowd of people now in front of her. Tensing slightly at that feeling, Lee opened her eyes, squinting into the bright light, only to see a crowd of police officers and cars. Looking up at Detective Cervantes, she saw that his face did not seem concerned by what he said, so Lee relaxed, head coming to rest on his shoulder once again.

It did not take long at this point before Lee felt herself being put down, gently though at the same time it felt slightly awkward, as she was placed in a car. Opening her eyes again, Lee saw that Detective Cervantes had only stepped about a foot away.

And he was telling her what was going on, that they were getting an ambulance and getting ahold of Tarin. She nodded. That was good, and Lee leaned back against the seat, her hands coming to rest on her stomach as she listened to the commotion outside the car.

“Carol? Yes, go to my desk and connect me to Tarin Brooks. His number should be in file. We have news concerning his wife.”

Lee leaned forward, head sticking out the car door as she looked at the detective, telling him the phone number that he was apparently asking for. Why was he wasting time asking someone to go check his desk when she knew the information.

With what she knew about police officers, she did not think that any of them would be comfortable giving her the energy she needed to even feel somewhat normal again, so the faster that they could get Tarin there, the better.

Leaning back for a moment, Lee then had another thought and looked outside again. "I don't suppose anyone has any food?" Now that she was feeling more energetic, she was actually starting to feel hungry again.

Jorge had waited on the line for Carol to get him the number on his desk. He feared it would take a while to find but before he knew it, he peeked down at Lee who had leaned partially out of the car to grab his attention. She had whispered the number to him and he quickly thanked her for that. To be honest the only reason he had not asked her before was because he did not want her working more than she needed to. After going through trauma like that, the best she could do was to simply sit and regather her strength.

>> "I don't suppose anyone has any food?"

“Of course, Mrs. Brooks. No self-respecting police officer would be without it. You wait right here.” he said as he snapped his fingers at a passing officer. “Salmons, go into the emergency kit in the back of my car pull out the small, red bag inside of there.” he said as he tossed him his keys.

Jorge watched as Salmons ran off out of the scene. His car was still parked on the street where the bust had taken place. After he was gone, the detective turned back to the phone in hand. The first time no one answered but just as he was about to redial, the officer he sent off to his car came running back. In his hand Jorge saw the red, zip up bag. He kept an emergency kit in his car for all occasions, this included provisions for whatever the reason may be. After all, you never know.

The detective then knelt down and offered the bag to Lee while she sat in the back of the car. The bag, which he unzipped for her, contained a bottle of water, beef jerky and whatever other small perishables he could find that would be of help in case food was needed. Once that was handed over to her, he sighed as he redialed the phone and simply thought to himself. Come on, Tarin, pick up.

As the phone started to ring once more, his ears were assaulted by the sound of rushing sirens. The emergency vehicles were fast on the call. A glance to Lee and her gave her as reassuring smile. She was finally found and though he knew Tarin would be happy…a thought still plagued him. Who was it that did this? He would need to question Lee, but he would wait until after he told Tarin that Lee was safe and headed to the hospital.

One thing at a time.

The detective listened to her as she told him Tarin's phone number, but still he stayed on the phone with whoever it was he had sent looking for the number. Lee shook her head as she leaned back against the seat. Maybe this guy didn't know anything about her, after all, Lee thought, realizing as her hands came to rest on her stomach again that her wedding ring was still there. That must have been how he knew she had a husband, because if Tarin had talked to him, the guy had to know that she was not as helpless and fragile as he was acting like she was. Even if she had almost no energy whatsoever.

Thankfully, it didn't take long for the officer he sent off to return with some food. Not that it was great food, Lee realized when Detective Cervantes opened the small bag, but at least it was food. Letting her hand brush his as she took the bag from him, Lee opened the water bottle first, though only with a fair bit of difficulty. Apparently due to her lack of energy, or maybe lack of movement, her strength was much less than she remembered it being.

And then she heard the sirens, and glancing over her shoulder as she took a sip of water saw that it was an ambulance approaching. If the time she and Tarin had spent in DocProf's care was any indication, she was going to have to eat quickly if she wanted to eat at all.

Glancing in the bag quickly, Lee surveyed her options. Then held one of the cans of fruit out to the detective. "Could you open this for me?" she asked, ripping open a package of crackers once he took the can from her hand.

Lee was already chewing on a cracker by the time that Detective Cervantes handed the now open can back to her. And then she proceeded to shove food into her mouth as quickly as she could, as though she were starving. Based on how quickly the ambulance had arrived after the detective had ordered it, Lee did not think she had much time, and who knew when the doctors would actually let her eat anything solid once they got their hands on her. So she ate the pieces of fruit as quickly as she could, barely even bothering to chew them since they were soft and capable of being swallowed whole.

To be honest, Lee didn't even know what kind of fruit it was that she was eating.

It did not take much longer for the paramedics to be directed to the car that she was sitting in. Lee hadn't thought she had much time. Swallowing the last bit of fruit that was in her mouth, she hadn't quite managed to finish the can, Lee looked up at the two men who had appeared beside the car. So much for her being able to eat.

Slowly pushing herself out of the back seat of the car, Lee leaned over to look at the detective who found her. "You're going to have Tarin meet me at the hospital, right?"

By this point Tarin’s days had taken on a comfortable, if depressing monotony. He got up in the morning, let the dog out, took care of his daily business, checked in with Slate to see if there was anything that needed doing, cleaned the apartment, took the dog for a walk, and waited. While he waited, he worked. He searched the internet, he called around, he looked up old leads, anything he could do to find Lee. The shop was probably growing cobwebs by this point, but Tarin didn’t care. His Kabal salary was enough to support his search. The cops were on it, the Kabal was on it, to some degree the X-Men were on it. Tarin had done everything he could besides what he was doing.

His phone rang so rarely these days, it took Tarin a few moments to realize what the sound was and where it was coming from. He frowned, aggravated to be pulled away from the work he was doing and frowned more deeply when he didn’t recognize the number on the display.

Glancing back at the laptop screen as he worked, Tarin nearly set the phone down, then frowned again, clicking the ‘talk’ button and holding the handset to his ear.

”Hello.” he said, voice irritated. Anyone who had this number either knew him or was a sales person, neither would mistake his tone for something it wasn’t.

The frown didn’t stay long though, and he nearly dropped the phone in glee after the initial panic of the words, “We have news about your wife.” Relief surged through him and he stood dizzily for a few minutes before flying around the apartment in a flurry of action.

He was meeting them at the hospital. For the moment, Tarin was okay with that. Sure, the Mansion would have been better. Doc Prof would have been better able to assess Lee’s condition after…what? Jorge hadn’t said what had happened, where she’d been. That was okay, there would be time for details later. There was really only one thing Tarin cared about.

Jorge had found Lee. One thing was for sure, Tarin owed the detective one.