Disclaimer: I don't own MCR or CSI, or any of the people/characters in them, respectively. I only own the IDEA for this story. That is all.
Email: horsie890@gmail.com

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Chapter 1

Gerard knelt closer to the rough asphalt and sighed upon seeing his reflection in the pool of blood. Whenever he could see anything more than his dark sunglasses, it qualified as too much.

"Eighteen years old. What a shame," said the approaching voice of his audio/visual analyst. Gerard stood and shook his head, not taking his eyes off the dead boy's face.

"Unfortunately, that's how these kind of cases usually go." He half smiled for a second, hidden hazel eyes becoming nostalgic. He remembered what it was like. "You're young, carefree, and think you own the world. It only takes one gunshot to end it all." The smile faded from his face as he turned to his partner. "Well, shall we begin?" he asked, pulling latex gloves over his hands. Frank nodded and did the same, taking the expensive camera out of its case to snap photos of the scene. There was no blood trail; the victim had been shot and killed right where he was. Frank found a driver's license in his wallet. He didn't have to look hard for the bullet; it was still embedded in the kid's brain. Better let Ray handle that.

"Hey, Frank, come look at this." Frank turned his head at the sound of Gerard's intrigued voice and walked over to him. He held a thin flashlight to the opening of a storm drain, seeing several small white pills on top of the pile of mud and leaves. Gerard quickly glanced up at the sky, seeing the gray clouds just moving enough to let the sun through. The rain had ended just half an hour earlier.

"Drug deal gone sour?" Frank questioned.

"Well, I won't rule it out as a possibility. At least we know the T.O.D. wasn't too long ago. That should make Ray's job easier," Gerard said, clicking the flashlight off and placing it in the corresponding pocket of his bulletproof vest. "See if you can't grab a few of those and send 'em off to Trace." Frank nodded and snapped a photo of the pills. Gerard helped load the body into the coroner's van, watching sadly as it drove away. They finished collecting the evidence and drove back to the crime lab to get it processed. Frank headed off to the photo lab to develop the pictures, while Gerard carried the cardboard box of evidence off to Mikey's so-called office.

"Hey, G," called his brother nonchalantly. "You got a package for me?" Gerard smiled and nodded at his brother's humor, setting it on the table and throwing his gloves in the trash. "Have at it, bro," he said, walking out of the room and into the coroner's exam room to greet Ray.

Chapter 2

"I hate these kinds of cases. Kids are too young to be shot," he said as the body was wheeled in.

"Aren't we all?" Gerard said as he left the room.

"Hey, could you grab me a sandwich? I'm starving," Ray called after him. Gerard nodded and walked down the hall to the vending machines. Someday, he vowed, he get Ray his very own sandwich vending machine, especially since he couldn't cook to save his life. He set the ham and cheese concoction on Ray's desk. As he passed the front desk, the secretary spoke to him.

"Lieutenant Way?" Gerard stopped and turned in her direction.

"Yes?" She placed a large cardboard box on the counter.

"This arrived while you were gone." Gerard thanked her and took it, slowly walking to his own office to open it. He slid a letter opener through the tape on one side of the package and carefully opened it. There was a letter on top, and something heavy in the bottom. He slid a letter opener through the envelope and pulled out the thinly folded letter. He muttered its first few words to himself, and a huge smile crossed his face as he continued to read it.

"Dear Senior Investigator Way,

Congratulations! Your team of crime scene investigators has been named the 2006 Team of the Year by the International Crime Scene Investigators Association. Your team's award is included, and you will receive a request for an interview within the next few days. I would personally like to congratulate you and your team on your outstanding efforts in this field.

Sincerely,

Hayden B. Baldwin, ICSIA Executive Director. I can't believe this! We actually got it!" Gerard tossed the letter on the desk and lifted the wooden plaque out of the Styrofoam beads, blowing off some of the excess ones so his fingerprints didn't ruin the gloss of the metal plate on the front. He held it up to read it better just as Frank entered.

"What's that?" he asked. Gerard's smile only grew.

"Take a look for yourself," he said, gently placing it on the desk. Frank smiled as he read it.

"How about that? Not bad for a busload of freaks. I got the photos developed. Thought you might want to see them before I handed 'em over to the lab," he said, tossing the manila envelope on the desk. Gerard thanked him and opened it, clearing off his desk for a better workspace and switching on the lights. It all seemed pretty straightforward, until something in the background of one particular photo caught his eye. The picture was of the city's skyline with the gray clouds in the background. He smirked in spite of himself. Frank loved taking random shots with that camera. Gerard scanned the photo into his computer. There was an unusual glint of light coming from a floor about two-thirds of the way up nearby building. He magnified it several times, and saw the shape of a gun begin to take form. But even with the camera's advanced lens, the focus hadn't been on the shooter, and the gun was blurred. He printed the new picture and took the rest of the photos to Mikey.

"More fun stuff for ya, Mike," he said as he saw his brother remove a small vial from the mass spectrometer. The results printed off a few seconds later, but before Gerard could grab them, Mikey snatched them off the printer tray and glanced at them.

"Let's play Name That Chemical Compound! Today's category: Drugs." He grabbed a marker and began mapping out the Lewis structure of the compound on the Plexiglass board.

"For a DNA/Trace analyst, you sure are ridiculous," said Gerard, reading the compound's composition aloud as he did so.

"Eleven carbon...fifteen hydrogen...one nitrogen and two oxygen." He sighed and thought about it for a moment. "If my memory is correct, it's methylenedioxymethamphetamine, commonly known as ecstasy." Mikey nodded and finally handed him the results.

"200 points for you. Congratulations." He clapped a few times. Gerard laughed.

"You will never quit. Hey, speaking of congratulations, you'll never guess what came in the mail today. We won Team of the Year." Mikey's jaw dropped.

"Seriously? That's great! We should go out to lunch." Gerard crossed his arms and glared sarcastically at his younger brother.

"Michael James Way. You know we can't all leave at once. We didn't win that award by not being here to do our jobs."

"Yeah, I know. But don't we deserve a break once in a while?" Gerard sighed.

"Tell that to the killers."

Chapter 3

"Gerard. Arthur. Way. What in the name of all things sane have you done?" Gerard smiled, showing his teeth. He couldn't wait until the rest of the team found out, so he decided to call a meeting.

"You're probably wondering why I've called you all here," he said, facing away from them and sitting in his tall leather chair. He smirked to himself in the darkness. This would be good.

"Yeah, kind of," said Ray, crossing his arms in front of himself.

"Frank, hit the lights." Frank flipped the switch, flooding the room with light. Gerard slowly turned around, and the team- except for Frank- collectively gasped. His normally long, ebony-shaded hair was now short and platinum blond.

"Anyway, now for the real news. We won CSI Team of the Year!" They recovered from the shock and started cheering. Suddenly, Frank left the room and ran down the hallway.

"Frank, what-" Bob began.

"I've gotta get the alcohol!" They all burst into laughter. - "Hey, Gerard, I found something really strange. Come take a look." Gerard stepped away from the microscope and walked over to Bob, who was looking at the bullet.

"It's a .50-caliber bullet. Sniper rifles. Not the kind of guns drug dealers carry around with them." Gerard frowned.

"Then maybe that's not what we have here. Thanks, Bob."

Gerard grabbed Frank and drove back to the crime scene with the photo of the building. Gerard parked across the street from the hotel matching the photo and grabbed his field kit out of the car's trunk. Frank took his camera and field kit and followed him into the hotel. Both of them removed their sunglasses almost simultaneously. Gerard went to check out the room while Frank got the information of anyone who had been staying in it within the last few days.

Gerard secretly hated the fact that hotels were so efficient. It was a high-class place, which meant the cleaning staff had to work well and they had to work fast. He went onto the balcony and looked at where his car was parked. It was in roughly the same area as the boy who had been killed. He found nothing in the potted plants, but saw a fine black powder coating part of the handrail. He tested some of it on a cotton swab just as Frank entered the room.

"Find anything?" he asked.

"Wait two seconds and I can tell you...Yep. It's GSR." Frank snapped a photo.

"Got the name and address of the guy who stayed here." Gerard packed up the chemicals and slid his dark sunglasses over his eyes.

"Should we pay him a visit?" he asked nonchalantly as he and Frank left the room.

"Oh yes, let's."

Chapter 4

Frank knocked on the door of the mansion, staring up at the large double doors. This place was huge.

"Okay, if he's staying in a place like this, why would he go to a hotel? I think his house is nicer." Gerard struggled to keep a straight face.

"That's what we're here to find out." The door opened, and a man in an expensive suit looked between them.

"Can I help you with anything?" he asked with a slight Italian accent. Gerard nodded.

"We're with the city's crime lab, investigating a murder that happened a few days ago. We'd like to ask you some questions." The man allowed them inside. While Frank was busy gawking, Gerard was speaking to the man.

"There was a hotel room registered under your name. We have reason to believe someone fired a shot from that room. Do you know anything about this?" The man shook his head.

"As I'm sure you can see, I have no reason to go to a hotel. However, I recently gave one of my employees a paid vacation under my name at the Mediterranean Resort, the one downtown." Gerard wrote it down and nodded, asking for the employee's name and address.

Meanwhile, Frank was still in the entrance hall admiring everything he saw. Most of the objects would have covered a large portion of his salary.

"Frank!" called Gerard, startling the A/V analyst out of his reverie. "Done drooling?" he asked with a smirk. Frank merely nodded and followed him out of the house.

"Looks like the guy working for this guy is a little low on cash," said Gerard as he drove to the latest suspect's house which was, unfortunately, on the other side of town.

"Sell some drugs, make some money. Or get someone else to do the dirty work for you," said Frank as if it were a simple plan. They reached the house in another half an hour.

Gerard knocked on the door, but no one answered. There were two old cars in the driveway, but it was completely silent inside. Finally, the door slowly opened-

And a blood-covered child collapsed at Gerard's feet. He instantly drew his gun in the event that the one responsible was still inside, but no one came to the door. Frank had already radioed for an ambulance, and Gerard struggled to keep the kid conscious.

"It's okay, you're safe now," he told the child reassuringly. The young boy said he wasn't actually hurt and that the blood belonged to someone still inside the house. He left the kid with Frank and readied his gun, entering the living room.

It was a sickening sight. There was blood all over the floor, walls, and furniture. Gerard saw someone on the couch and slowly approached them, but lowered his gun when he saw that the woman was dead. He followed the woman's blood trail into the master bedroom, where he also saw a dead man, presumably her husband. Frank joined the search, grimacing at the scene. The paramedics had arrived to take care of the young boy.

"What do you think might have happened here, G?" he asked as he took pictures of every blood spatter he could find. Gerard shook his head.

"I don't know, but we need to find out. This kid's got a lot of growing up to do in a short amount of time."

Chapter 5

They called in Bob for some help. He was a blood spatter analyst and ballistics expert, just the kind of person they needed for this case.

"So, you ready to help us track the trail?" Gerard asked him, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. Bob nodded, took a swift survey of the room, and headed off to the bedroom first. Frank was snapping pictures, as usual, so Gerard followed Bob down the hallway.

"Looks to me like Dad died first, two gunshot wounds to the chest. Mom walked down the hallway," he said, taking slow steps and looking at the red smears while Gerard taped down several colored strings to connect the trail.

"She collapsed here and cracked her forehead open on the coffee table, then crawled over to the couch, probably to get the phone. Didn't quite make it." They began collecting DNA from the victims.

"What do you think the mom's cause of death was, G? There's too much blood for me to tell," said Frank as he took another picture. Gerard finished what he was doing and studied the scene.

"Same here. We might not know until the coroner's through."

"Murder weapons, party of two," called Bob, holding up a gun in one hand and a blood-covered steak knife in the other. Gerard turned back to face Frank.

"There's your answer. We'll have to see if the kid knows what happened, though."

They thoroughly searched the house, finding several unlabelled prescription med bottles. Gerard opened them all. Each one held five or six pills that looked just like the ones they had discovered in the storm drain.

"Looks like your theory was right after all, Frank," he said, holding up one bottle and rattling it. "Drug deal gone south."

"So, does that mean I get your job?" Frank asked with fake hopefulness. Gerard looked at him as if to say, 'Really, now, that's just stupid.'

"No." Frank shrugged.

"Oh well. Can't blame a guy for trying." - "Do you know what happened?" Gerard asked the young boy sitting across from him. He shook his head, making the senior investigator sigh. He had a feeling the boy knew something, but was refusing to talk to him. As of yet, he didn't even know the child's name.

Mikey came in and tapped his brother on the shoulder, motioning for them to go outside. Gerard rose and left the office to speak to Mikey.

"I don't know what to do, Mike. I think he knows something, but he's not talking." Mikey scoffed.

"G, you look like a ghost. He's probably terrified of you." Gerard blinked in surprise. He hadn't thought of that. He crossed his arms in front of himself.

"What, you think you could do better?"

"In essence, yes," the younger Way said with a nod. "But I'll make it up to you. While I'm talking to the kid, you get to go run these for trace evidence. Sound fair?" he asked, holding up the two evidence bags. One held the gun, and one held the knife. Gerard sighed and took them from his brother's hands.

"And you say I'm scary," he muttered, walking off to the lab as Mikey took his place. He grabbed his lab coat that was hanging on the wall and carried the items over to a large Plexiglass case. There was a short, cylindrical tray sitting on the bottom of the case. Gerard placed the gun inside first and added a few drops of sodium hydroxide to the tray, swiftly closing the door so the fumes wouldn't suffocate him. He watched as white smoke began rising from the reaction and smiled when he saw several prints appear on the gun. He repeated the process with the knife. There were prints on it as well.

"Any luck?" asked Ray as he entered the lab. Gerard nodded.

"Yep. You?"

"Yeah. Mom sustained two stab wounds, one in the stomach and one between the ribs. C.O.D. was a nasty head injury. Dad was shot in the heart." Gerard removed the knife from the case and began removing the fingerprints from the two items.

"Where's Mike? I thought he was processing these," Ray asked.

"He was. But since he figured I wouldn't be able to get any info from the kid because I look like a ghost, he decided to trade with me. I'm not really complaining; I haven't gotten to do much lab work lately." He scanned the prints into the computer and ran a search on them, knowing it would take some time. Ray left the lab just as Bob entered.

"You done with that yet? I need to run ballistics on it," he asked Gerard, motioning to the gun.

"Knock yourself out." Bob took the gun and left Gerard to his work. He returned to the computer, seeing that it had found a match to the prints on the gun. He opened the profile. It belonged to the dead mom. There was also a match to the prints found on the knife, belonging to the dad.

"Any news, G?" asked Frank as he entered the lab. Gerard turned around.

"They killed each other."

Chapter 6

"Really," said Frank. Gerard nodded.

"Dad stabbed Mom, Mom shot Dad."

"So now we need to find out if he killed our first vic, and why this fight didn't end with the usual tears and tissues." Gerard smiled at the comment. Frank was always ready with a quip.

"Exactly. Bob's running ballistics on the gun now, but it's only a handgun. We need to find the one that killed our first vic."

"Is it back to square one?" Gerard placed the knife back in its evidence bag.

"It's back to square one."

They drove back to the hotel and spoke with the manager.

"Has anything been left in this particular room recently?" asked Gerard, removing his sunglasses. The woman retreated behind the front desk and searched through a leather-bound book.

"Yes, there were several pieces of a rifle found scattered throughout the room." Both of the investigators' eyes bulged abnormally. Frank was the first to regain his composure.

"Why didn't you tell us last time we were here?" The woman shrugged.

"I didn't think it was important. They were found just before this particular guest checked in. I had them stored in the vault." They followed her down a set of stairs to a large safe. She showed her ID card to the security guard, while Frank and Gerard waved their badges. She unlocked the door and showed them inside, pulling a box from the shelves. Gerard took it from her, and Frank lifted the lid off the box.

"Yep. Definitely parts of an M107. Military issue," said Frank with a nod. He then turned to the manager with a confused look on his face. "Again I ask you, why didn't you tell us about this earlier?" Gerard raised one hand towards Frank to calm him down before he killed someone.

"Let me handle this," he muttered, turning to the woman. "I think what my partner means is that this had to be a strange occurrence. I'm sure you don't find military-grade weaponry every day."

"Well, not specifically, but we have found stranger things people leave behind. Diamond jewelry, laptops, dogs- you'd be surprised. We once found a prosthetic leg in a drawer. Scared the maid pretty bad." This wasn't too surprising to the two investigators. They had seen stranger things.

"Regardless, that gun is now part of an ongoing investigation, and we need to take it back to the crime lab with us," said Gerard, walking out of the vault with the box in his hands. Frank began to follow him, but stopped after two steps and turned back to face the manager.

"Dogs?" She nodded, and he left without another word.

- "Hey Bob. Got a gift for you," said Gerard, placing the heavy box on the counter. Bob rubbed his hands together maniacally.

"Ah, so Christmas has come early this year. Let's see what we've got." He opened the box and picked up the barrel and scope of the gun. "Wow, an M107. Just what I've always wanted."

"You'll shoot your eye out, kid," said Gerard just as Mikey entered.

"I'm not sure I want to know the context of that comment," he said warily. Gerard and Bob started laughing. "Anyway, while you two clowns are joking about outdated Christmas movies, I've been busy actually doing something. You were right, G. Brian- the kid- did know more than he was letting on. Here's how it all happened," he began, walking over to Bob's whiteboard and grabbing a marker.

"Here we go again," said Gerard, rolling his eyes. Mikey turned back to face him with an annoyed look on his face.

"Do you mind? Telling a story here." Gerard mouthed the word 'sorry'.

"First of all, he doesn't like you. Said you look like a snowman." Gerard glared at him, lips drawn into a thin line, and did not laugh. "Anyway... apparently mom didn't know about the drugs. The kid found a bottle dad left lying on the counter and gave it to his mom. Needless to say, mom wasn't happy. She tried a calm discussion over dinner, but that didn't work, so dad took his steak and went to go eat in the bedroom."

"That explains how the knife got there in the first place," said Bob. Mikey continued the story map.

"Basically, when mom tried to bring it up again, dad got upset and attacked her. She grabbed the gun out of the closet and killed him. Brian heard the commotion and went to see what was going on. He saw his mom collapse, and when he went to see if she was okay, she gave him a hug - explains why he's covered in her blood and not his own - crawled a few feet, and kicked the bucket. Brian's got asthma, and he got so scared he started hyperventilating."

"So when he opened the door, he was just about ready to pass out," finished Gerard.

"Dude, you ruined the ending," said Mikey. Bob smiled.

"Mikey, I'm sorry to say this but I don't think you have a future as a writer." Mikey shrugged in response.

"I don't know, I think I'm doing alright here."

Chapter 7

Bob reassembled the gun in a few minutes, noting the filed-off serial number. He placed it on the lab counter and dropped a few drops of acid onto its surface to reveal the numbers, but nothing showed up. He frowned.

"That's odd," he muttered to himself.

"What's odd?" asked Frank as he entered the lab. He never could resist any part of his job involving high-powered guns, and jumped at the chance to help Bob on this case.

"Well, when they put serial numbers on things, the numbers go all the way through the metal. Even if they're filed off, a few drops of acid reveal the numbers."

"Unless the metal's been heated enough to relieve the pressure," said Frank, receiving a curious look from Bob.

"Yes. How did you know that?"

"Heard it off the streets. Didn't know it was actually true, but it makes sense," he said with a shrug.

"Well, whoever did this knows what they're doing; at least, they think they do. Take a look at this," said Bob, showing Frank several fingerprint sheets. "I was able to lift these from the gun. I ran them through the system; they definitely belong to Brian's dad."

"So he definitely handled the gun," Frank said thoughtfully.

"I was about to start ballistics testing on it, and since I know you wouldn't miss that for anything..."

Frank had grabbed his soundproof headphones before Bob even had time to realize what was going on. He laughed and took the gun over to their firing range.

"How far was that shot, Frank?" Frank checked the paperwork.

"Would have had to be...300 feet, at the very least. Snipers can't really go for anything much shorter than that. And the hotel room was on the fourteenth floor."

"Well, if you picture the distance from that height to the street," said Bob, writing a quick equation on the whiteboard.

"The hotel was right on the street, must've been about 250 feet from where the vic was shot. As for floor-to-floor height, it was just under twelve and a half feet per story," said Frank as Bob plugged in the numbers.

"We're looking at a 300-foot shot." Frank glanced down the range and pulled his headphones over his ears as Bob began loading the gun.

"You'll probably want to back up a little." - Brian was placed in foster care, something Gerard always felt bad about doing. He absolutely detested cases where the parents were killed or sent to jail, leaving their kids behind with nothing, not even a home to go back to. But he also knew it was the best thing they could do for the young boy.

"Hey, G," called Frank as he entered the office.

"Hey, Frank. Got anything for me?"

"Yeah, I ran a background check on the kid's dad; former Marine. Kept his gun after being 'dishonorably discharged for attempting the transport of illegal substances'," he said, reading it off the sheet. Gerard frowned.

"I find it hard to believe the military would allow a drug smuggler to keep a high-powered rifle."

"Maybe drugs weren't the only thing he smuggled," said Frank with a shrug.

"I suppose it's possible. Anyway, social services took the kid away this morning."

"That's a shame. So, what's our next step in getting this thing filed away?" Gerard thought for a moment.

"Good question. We got prints off the rifle, right?"

"Yeah, Bob said they were a match to the dad."

"Has he finished ballistics yet?"

"He finished shooting the gun, but he was still analyzing the results when I left."

"Then we need to find out why he shot our first vic, and-" Gerard stopped mid-sentence. Something struck a chord in his mind. He instantly brought up the photo of the building on his computer and studied it carefully.

"Frank, when did you take this photo?"

"Just before we left the scene, probably around three thirty. I thought it would be a nice shot, why?"

"Because if we had stayed any longer we might both be dead. There was someone else in the room, and whoever it was didn't want is to finish up our crime scene." Gerard immediately stood up and almost ran to Bob's office.

"Hey, G."

"Bob where is that rifle?" Gerard asked quickly, trying to keep his voice calm. Bob unlocked the gun locker. Gerard slid latex gloves on his hands and carefully picked it up, taking it back to the lab. He called Ray, who had already left for the night.

"Ray, would you happen to remember the time of death for that kid's dad?"

"Yeah, just after three, why?"

"Thanks," he said, snapping the phone shut.

"G, what's going on?" asked Frank, putting on his lab coat when he entered the lab.

"The dad died just after three. You took that photo at three thirty, so the gunman I saw couldn't have been the same person. There were two shooters."

"So why did the fingerprints only match one person?" asked Frank.

"The second guy might have worn gloves, or something similar. The point is that we were lucky to get out alive." Frank smirked.

"Aren't we always?"

"Yes, Frank. Yes we are. Now I'm going to need you to run and get Bob; we need to tear this thing apart, and only he knows which pieces of it were put together from the beginning." Frank nodded and took off down the hallway.

Chapter 8

"I hate that I have to take apart my new present," said Bob as he followed Frank down the hallway.

"Yeah, well, you might want to leave the humor outside. Gerard's in the zone right now," said Frank as he put on latex gloves.

"Oh," said Bob in understanding. The situation was more serious than he thought.

"Exactly." They quietly entered the lab so as not to disturb the artist at work. Gerard was busy setting up the testing equipment with renewed energy. Frank had been right; he was in the zone, and it would be unwise to distract him.

They set to work immediately. Bob carefully disassembled the gun and lay the pieces all over the lab table. He dipped several cotton swabs in ethanol and carefully swabbed each piece of the gun. Gerard took the pieces after he was finished and placed them in a closet for the fuming test to check for fingerprints. Frank poured the sodium hydroxide on the tray of material to initiate the reaction. They then treated each cotton swab with phenolphthalein and hydrogen peroxide.

"Got a match," said Gerard after the third try. He held up the cotton swab, which had turned a bright pink color to indicate blood.

"What was it from?" asked Frank.

"The handle." They found more blood on a sample from the gun's trigger. The fuming test was negative, and Frank picked up the gun's handle. He found a secret compartment inside and pulled it out, finding a small wad of spongy foam inside.

"Take a look at this," he said, starting to peel off the sponge-like material. It concealed a single diamond. "What do you think it means?"

"It means, my friend, that we've uncovered something bigger than we originally thought," said Gerard, examining the stone with experienced eyes. "Something much bigger." - Frank and Bob practically dragged Gerard against his will away from the lab as Mikey locked it.

"This is for your own good, G," said Frank. "Sleep is a good thing."

"Frank, these cases don't solve themselves," Gerard said while he tried - and subsequently failed - to suppress a yawn.

"They also don't get solved in one day. You need a break," said Bob.

"Don't worry, guys, I'll make sure he gets a full ten hours tonight," said Mikey as he opened the front door of the building and watched as his two friends unceremoniously dragged their boss out the door. He contemplated videotaping it for future reference, but knew better than to mess with Gerard on a day like this. He was in no mood for humor.

"That's a bit excessive, don't you think?" asked Gerard as he finally gave up and sat in the passenger seat of his own car. Mikey shook his head and started the car.

"You work as much as three people. You're lucky I don't send you on a vacation to Hawaii right now," said his brother. Frank and Bob locked up the rest of the lab and said goodbye to the security guard on duty.

"So, you think Gerard's actually going to sleep ten hours?" asked Frank as he stepped into his own car. Bob shook his head.

"He'll do that when every murderer in the world is caught, convicted, and sentenced; in other words, when he's finally out of a job."

"Which is to say, never?" They both laughed and went their separate ways. - Gerard's cell phone vibrated in the middle of the night. It failed to wake him until it fell off of the nightstand and onto the wood floor below. It startled him out of a dead sleep, and his eyes snapped open abruptly. He picked up the glowing object and answered it sleepily.

"...Hello?...Yes, this is Lieutenant Way...What?" He gasped and sat up immediately, unable to believe what he was hearing. "Okay...I'll be right there...Thanks." He snapped the phone shut and dressed quickly, waking up his brother in the process. Mikey appeared at his doorway with his eyes closed.

"Gerard, it's four in the morning. What's going on?" Gerard grabbed his gun and clipped it onto his belt.

"Someone broke into the lab. We have to go now." Mikey understood instantly and ran back to his own bedroom. They were out the door less than five minutes later and raced down to the lab, thankful there were few others out on the road. The last thing they needed right now was an accident.

They got to the lab ten minutes later, and both leapt out of the car and briskly walked to the lab. The police had already secured the scene, making their lives much easier. They showed their badges to the security guard and entered the lab. Frank was already there and had begun processing the scene.

"The guy busted in through this window," he said, motioning to the frame lined with broken glass. "He didn't take anything, but he did leave us a little present." Frank lazily motioned to a cardboard box lying on the counter and returned to his work. Mikey stepped over to it and examined it curiously. He froze and told the others to stop talking.

"Can you hear that?" he asked breathlessly. Gerard stood next to him and listened.

"Oh my God. It's ticking."

Chapter 9

Upon hearing a small beep emitted from the box, Gerard and Mikey hit the deck and rolled out of harm's way behind the wall of a nearby office. Frank heard the warning and realized what was happening a split second too late. The deafening sound of an explosion tore through the lab as the bomb destroyed everything nearby. Glass shattered and flew everywhere.

Gerard's eyes began to tear up as he and Mikey coughed from the smoke. Before the thick gray clouds cleared, they heard a shriek of unbearable pain.

"Frank!" shouted Gerard, choking on his own words. He tried to stand up, but a piece of the wall had pinned his leg to the ground. He hadn't even noticed it. Mikey was on his feet already and pried it off, throwing it to the side. Gerard was relieved to see that neither of them was hurt. Then he remembered Frank. He stood and rushed to his friend's side, waving away the dark smoke. He was shocked when he saw Frank's face.

The right side of his face was covered in a sizzling white liquid, and he was screaming in pain. Neither of them tried to wipe it off with their hands, and Frank was doing his best to keep his eyes tightly shut. Gerard jumped to his feet and grabbed a bottle of pure water they usually used in experiments from a cabinet nearby and carefully began flushing out Frank's wound. Mikey radioed for the paramedics and tried to find more water.

"Hold still, Frank, I know it hurts," said Gerard through gritted teeth. It wasn't looking good. Nearly half of his friend's face was swollen and red. He tried to lift Frank's right eyelid to help clean it out, but he refused to open his eyes. "Frank, you have to trust me if you want this to stop hurting." His friend's face finally relaxed, and he was able to clean most of the liquid out. Gerard winced as his friend whimpered, partly from the pain but mostly from fear. The paramedics arrived and placed Frank on a stretcher, swiftly carrying him to an ambulance. It had begun to rain outside, but Gerard failed to notice, even as it soaked through him and plastered his shortened locks to his forehead.

"It's alright, Frank. You're going to be okay," he said before they lifted his friend into the vehicle. Surprisingly, his friend began to laugh. It was forced.

"Don't lie to me, G. If I even survive this, you know I'm going to be useless at the lab."

"Ah, don't say that Frank," said his partner, shaking his head and splattering raindrops into his eyes.

"Gerard...I can't see." The ambulance drove away. Gerard looked after it with pure hope in his clear, hazel eyes, then shook his head and returned to the lab. He had done everything he could. There was no time to worry now; he had a crime scene to process. He turned on his heel and walked back to the building, hearing his shoes click on the asphalt.

"How's he doing?" asked Mikey as Gerard walked back into the lab. He shook his head and ignored the question and instead asked his brother to help him gather the pieces of the bomb. Mikey put a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"G, talk to me." Gerard hesitated before speaking.

"He...he told me he couldn't see," he said slowly as his voice started to crack. Mikey understand how serious the situation was. He pulled his brother into a hug.

"It's okay, he'll be fine. You really helped him through the worst of it." The older Way brother wiped a single tear away from his eye and set to processing the scene. He knew Mikey was trying to help, and that he had indeed helped ease Frank's pain, but he also knew that it wasn't the worst of it. Burns were horrendously painful to endure, especially when they had to clean off the dead skin.

He sincerely hoped Frank would be alright. - "It was nitric acid," said Mikey grimly, holding up the results. Gerard studied them carefully.

"We keep that in our lab, don't we?" he asked. His younger brother nodded.

"But the containers we have are kept outside the building, never in the lab. Even diluted, it's far too dangerous to be near without protection. So it had to come from the box. It was a chemical bomb." Gerard threw the papers on the temporary lab table angrily and cursed the person who had built the device.

"Any word on Frank?" asked Bob as he entered the lab tent.

"Nothing," said Mikey, silently asking Bob to keep quiet about Frank. Bob nodded in understanding.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked.

"You and I are going to pay a visit to someone who may have connections to this. Mikey, see if you can't put this disaster back together again," said Gerard, taking off his lab coat and grabbing his vest from the corner of the tent. He absolutely could not wait until the lab was rebuilt. Bob followed him out of the tent and got in the driver's side of Gerard's car. When the senior investigator opened his mouth to protest, Bob cut him off.

"No. I had a full night's sleep. You didn't." He started the car and began driving to the address his boss gave him. About halfway there, he asked if a particular street name was correct, but got no response.

"G? You okay?" he said, taking a quick glance to the side. He half smiled.

Gerard was fast asleep, lulled by the soothing sounds of the rain.

Chapter 10

Bob parked in front of the large mansion and gently woke Gerard from his slumber.

"G, wake up. We're here." His eyes opened slowly as the fog of sleep left him.

"Okay, I'm awake. Let's go." He got out of the car and stretched, still ignoring the rain. It was refreshing. They walked up to the front door, and Gerard knocked on the heavy door. The wealthy man answered it.

"Anything I can do for you?" he asked. Gerard held up a small plastic bag containing the diamond.

"Care to explain this?" The man took a quick glance at it and shook his head.

"Doesn't look familiar."

"It was found in the handle of your employee's gun. We already know he was a drug smuggler and in possession of at least one illegal firearm, so don't lie to us." The man hesitated for a moment before allowing them inside.

"You see, every diamond- every legal one, anyways- has its own serial number laser inscribed on it. Illegal ones don't. Take a guess at which one this is," said Bob.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said the man. His accent made him sound like a member of the Mafia, something that only served to set the two investigators on edge.

His words almost made Gerard snap.

"Look. Our crime lab suffered an attack this morning and one of my CSIs is in the hospital. So you tell us the truth, or so help me I will lock you up for the rest of your life," the senior investigator said coldly. Bob's eyes widened. Gerard was mad.

"I have to go where the money's at," the man said simply. "When I had to get more employees to help with...distribution, my profits started to drop. Diamonds are worth a lot on today's market, and I couldn't afford to lose any money."

"Why, do you owe someone?" asked Bob while Gerard regained his composure. The man lowered his voice as if someone was eavesdropping.

"Look, there's not a lot I can tell you if I hope to wake up tomorrow."

"If your information leads to the capture and arrest of any smugglers, we can knock some time off your sentence." The man's eyes widened. He hadn't been expecting a jail sentence, even after Gerard's comment.

"There's a group that controls everything that goes on in the city."

"What, like a gang?" Gerard asked. He received a serious look.

"They're much more than one of your little street gangs, Lieutenant. When I say they control everything, I mean they literally control the city."

"Could you be more specific?" asked Bob, who was taking notes. "A meeting place, a symbol they usually use..."

"A name?" added Gerard.

"They call themselves The Black Parade." - The rain had picked up by the time they left the mansion. Bob finally conceded and let Gerard drive his own car. They had gotten an address, their only current lead. They came to a run-down apartment complex on the other side of town. Gerard tentatively kept one hand on his gun. He didn't like this part of town very much. Bob knocked on the door.

A short, tattoo-covered gang member answered the door. A half-finished cigar dangled from one corner of his mouth, and his breath smelled strongly of alcohol.

"Hey, you must be the guys from the lottery. Did I get anything?" he asked with a drunken laugh. Gerard almost rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm thinking you'll get twenty to life."

Chapter 11

"I haven't killed anyone." Bob turned the sheet of paper around so the man could read it.

"That's not what the evidence says. Your hands tested positive for gunshot residue, and you stayed a night in the Mediterranean downtown. You kept the gun there in case the next day's deal didn't work out." The man leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers.

"So I shot a gun and some guy bit the dust. Doesn't mean I did it." Bob almost smacked himself in the face.

"You're only digging yourself in deeper by lying to me." Gerard watched the interrogation from the other side of a two-way mirror. The questioning room was one of the few things left intact from the explosion.

The explosion...

Gerard realized he hadn't even thought about it since mentioning it to the rich drug smuggler. He contemplated calling the hospital to see how Frank was doing, but he quickly shook the thought from his mind. Even if he could somehow talk to Frank, there was no way his partner would let him get away from an investigation to do so. He would want proof that they were at least getting somewhere, and he would be even happier if they had found the guy responsible.

Gerard refused to let his best friend down.

"Gerard, I found the strangest thing," said Mikey, walking over to his brother.

"What?"

"This survived the blast." He held up a small plastic bag containing a white crystal. Gerard took it in one hand and looked at it carefully.

"Looks like methamphetamine, but I haven't been able to run any tests on it just yet," said Mikey. "I'll be happy when our lab is up and running again."

"It's not meth, Mike. It's an uncut diamond. I can't believe you didn't see that." Mikey took it back from him and placed it back in its small plastic bag.

"We'll worry about this later. Why don't you come with me to go visit Frank? I'm sure he'll be happy to see you." Gerard shook his head without taking his eyes off the ghost of his own reflection in the window.

"He won't want me to come back empty-handed."

"Imagine how he's going to feel if you don't visit him." There was silence between them for a second as Gerard thought about his brother's words. He opened the door to the room before him and told Bob he was leaving, then left the lab with Mikey.

"It's not like we haven't made any progress, G," said Mikey as he drove down the rain-slicked road. "This guy is most likely our shooter."

"Don't jump to conclusions, Mike. You never know what can show up at a crime scene."

"That's true."

Gerard had been through a lot in his years as a CSI. But one thing he always had trouble handling was the hospital.

Mikey placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, receiving the wide-eyed look of a fearful child in return. They both stepped out of the car slowly and proceeded through the glass doors at the front of the hospital.

"Can I help you?" asked the secretary. Gerard and Mikey showed her their badges. It never hurt to get some priority in situations like this.

"Yes, we're looking for Frank Iero, could you find out where he is right now?" the senior investigator asked, sounding less cold than usual. Mikey knew that tone; he was terrified.

"Certainly...our database says he should be in the burn unit, it's just down that hallway, take your third left and first right." They thanked her and proceeded down the bleached halls, both of them silent. Gerard's heart sank with each step. By the time they reached the waiting room, he had to sit down before he fell down. He was shaking.

"They said he's in intensive care right now. They...just finished removing the dead skin." The words hit Gerard like a lead weight. That was probably the worst part of being burned. "They said he's awake but still a little sleepy. He should be fine in about five minutes, so then we can go talk to him." Gerard nodded and leaned back against the wall as he thought about the case. They were missing something, but he couldn't think of what it might be. Never before had they encountered a smuggling ring on such a large scale. None of this was making any sense to him. And there was no reason for an uncut diamond to be part of a bomb, at least not one he could think of.

"G?" Mikey said softly, breaking him out of his thoughts. He looked up at his brother, who motioned for him to follow, and abruptly stood up. They found the hospital room and tentatively stepped inside.

Frank was sitting up, propped against several pillows. The two investigators walked over to him. The right side of his face was covered by his hair. He was staring out the window next to him, breathing slowly.

"Frank?" said Gerard. His friend didn't move, but he did speak.

"Hey, G," he said listlessly. His voice was so hoarse that it sounded like someone else entirely.

"It's good to see you."

"I wish I could say the same." The magnitude of his words was staggering. He had to be able to see, he just had to. "There's light in front of me. I can tell that much."

"Frank, something else seems wrong," said Mikey suspiciously. Frank sighed very softly.

"They wouldn't tell me exactly what happened, but I can guess. The acid ate completely through the right side of my neck. It damaged my vocal and spinal chords." He took a shuddering breath. "I told you I wasn't going to be okay." Gerard was doing everything in his power not to cry. This was much worse than he had imagined.

"Luckily, it didn't get into my ear. My hearing seems to be alright. If it hadn't been for you, Gerard, I might not have even that luxury. Thanks." Gerard exhaled slowly. At least one positive thing had come out of this.

"Don't give up yet, Frank." That was all he could say.

"G, I want you to get back on that case. And don't forget to sleep every few days."

Chapter 12

Gerard's cell phone rang, and he quietly answered it.

"Hello?...yes, this is Senior Investigator Way...oh, that's right. I almost forgot...My lab is involved in a situation at the moment, could we do this another time?...yes, that would work...thank you." He slid the phone back into his pocket.

"Who was that?" asked Frank weakly. His voice was losing tone with every word.

"The ICSIA's publicity department was asking for an interview. It was in the letter they sent us when we got the award...I completely forgot about it."

"It's not like you've had any of free time recently," said Mikey. "We've all been through a lot in the past two days." Gerard's phone rang again. He looked at the number, not recognizing it immediately, and hesitantly answered it.

"Hello?...Yes, we're currently working on his case-" He stopped, listening intently to the frightened woman's words. "No, you can't send it to us. Just wait a few minutes; I'm on my way." He snapped the phone shut and glanced at Mikey.

"What's the problem?" his younger brother asked. He looked at Frank once again, sadness filling his heart. He hated seeing his friend so weak and defenseless like this.

"We have to go, Frank," he said solemnly. His partner let out a stiff laugh.

"Then what the hell are you still doing here?" - Gerard had never been happier to have police lights on his car than today. He nearly floored the accelerator the entire trip, cutting off at least ten minutes. He knew they couldn't waste any time. Mikey sat back in his seat and hummed nervously, trying to ignore the fact that a crash at this speed would no doubt be lethal.

When they reached their destination, the two investigators leapt out of the car and raced inside. It was a quaint, cheery house on the outside, but Mikey had a sickening feeling that whatever they were there for was anything but good. He was right.

Gerard read over the sheet of paper the woman handed him, more anger flaring in his eyes with each passing second. He kept a calm composure on the outside, however, knowing that now wasn't the time to lose it.

"When was he taken?" the senior investigator asked.

"Not more than an hour ago," replied Brian's new foster mother with tears in her eyes. "You have to find him."

"We will find him," Mikey said with determination.

"They're requesting one million in cash in an hour. How do you propose we meet this deadline, Mike?" Just then, Gerard's phone rang once again. He swiftly answered it.

"Hello?"

"Way." His face turned dark instantaneously. Now it was personal.

"You."

"That's right. You couldn't lock me up last time, and you won't this time. In fact, you never will." He could almost hear the confident smirk in the voice.

"Where's the kid, Matt?" he asked, struggling to keep his voice even. The man on the other end began laughing.

"Now, now, Lieutenant, where are your manners? That's no way to greet an old friend."

"Leave him out of this, Matt. This is between you and me." Mikey caught the expression on his brother's face and almost began to back away. This was serious.

"I've been watching you, Way. Every move you've made has been part of my plan. Every piece of evidence you've found, every person you've spoken to - they all belong to me." His heart began to sink. He knew where this was going. "I think there's someone here you might want to talk to, Way."

"Matt!" Gerard shouted into the phone. He was able to control the rage in his voice no longer.

"H-hello?" asked a feeble, slightly raspy voice.

"Brian? Is that you?" he asked in a rushed tone, allowing his anger to leave him momentarily. The child's mother inhaled sharply. He was still alive.

"Ah, ah, ah, not yet, Lieutenant. Not until we've had a proper meeting." Gerard's upper lip curled into an angry sneer. He hated this.

"Where am I supposed to come up with a million in cash?"

"I'm having it wired directly into your bank account. Meet me in front of the Mediterranean after you get the cash. And don't bring any of your little staff members, or the kid dies."

The line went silent. Gerard snapped his phone shut.

"We're going to get this sorted out. You'd be better off staying here for a while until I contact you again," he said to the frightened mother. He took Mikey and abruptly walked out the front door. They had more driving to do.

Chapter 13

Gerard had no choice but to drop his brother back at their house so he could get his own car. As much as he didn't want to follow Matt's instructions, he couldn't put Brian's life in any further danger.

"I'll call you with any updates, Mike," he said grimly as he drove away. He drove to the nearest bank and walked inside.

The line was long, but he didn't have time to wait. He immediately cut to the front of the line, much to the annoyance of several people, but they lost the nerve to say anything when they saw the handgun clipped to his belt.

"The transfer was a success, Mr. Way," said the teller, eyeing the gun nervously.

"I need to make a withdrawal."

"What's the amount?"

"One million dollars." Gerard felt breathless after saying the words. It was strange to simultaneously gain and lose so much money in one day. The woman's eyes widened.

"That's a fairly large amount. We're going to need some time...to..." She stopped as he discreetly placed his badge on the counter. She sighed in relief. At least he wasn't going to try and rob the bank.

"I'll get it right away." - He placed the money in the black duffel bag he had brought with him and drove to the hotel. He became nervous when he saw no one else around, save for a lone man in front of the building's entrance. There were no people walking the streets, giving the city street a ghostly, empty feel.

Gerard parked on the side of the street next to a parking meter that showed half an hour of time left. The man walked over to him, and he dropped the bag on the ground between them.

"I'm impressed, Lieutenant. A whole half hour to spare," Matt said lazily. Gerard struggled to keep his composure.

"Where is the kid?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"What, I don't even get a chance to talk to an old friend? Come on, Way, you know me better than that."

"You're not a friend, you're a criminal. And I'm going to bring you down." Matt placed a hand over his heart as though he'd been shot.

"Oh, that hurts, Way," he said sarcastically. "You know, I was going to tell you where the kid is, but you seem a little uptight. I think we should play a game instead." He reached into one pocket and pulled out a box of cards. "In here is all the help you'll need, my friend. I suggest you work quickly. Because that meter shows all the time you have left." He swiftly pulled out a gun as if to shoot at Gerard, who promptly fired a single shot at the man's heart. He fell backwards, instantly dead. Gerard called Mikey and told him it was okay to come by. He put on latex gloves and picked up the box, finding four cards inside: the aces of spades, diamonds, and hearts, and a joker. It was more than a little shocking to him.

"Matt, what have you done this time?" he asked himself. He looked back inside the box and found a white piece of paper he had previously missed. He shook it out of the box, noting a gold-colored stain on it, and read it carefully.

It's a toss-up, Gerard. But this time I'll let you decide the outcome.

He knew what to do. He took a cotton swab from his field kit and swabbed the strange stain, testing it to see what it was, but was unsuccessful. It was different. Mikey arrived soon after, bringing more lab equipment than would fit in Gerard's car. Gerard handed him the piece of paper and showed him the cards.

"I can't believe this. You have to find that kid, G," said Mikey. His brother looked at the meter. Twenty minutes left.

"I know. But I have no idea where to start. He said everything we needed was in the box."

"I'll try and figure out what this stuff is," said Mikey. He thought for a second. "Hey, what's this?" He showed the box to Gerard, who saw a tiny dot of red that didn't blend with the rest of the crimson filigree designs on the box. He tested it quickly. It was blood.

He looked around for any signs he had missed earlier. Then he saw a small playing card taped to the wall of the hotel's parking garage, which was right nearby. He kept his gun drawn and approached it. The card was the three of spades. It was turned sideways, as if to point into the garage. He took the hint and ran.

As he quickly scanned several cars on the first floor, he couldn't help but wonder about Matt's sick sense of humor. His very first victim had died in a parking garage. How he ever evaded the penalties for that case, Gerard would never know.

"It was a three," he muttered to himself. He soon came upon a concrete pillar supporting the next several floors. It read '3A.' There was another card taped to it, the four of diamonds.

Matt's second victim had been killed in a jewelry store. This was getting weird.

'So I'm looking for an expensive car on this floor,' he thought to himself. 'Probably Matt's BMW.' He searched around madly for any sign of the car, but couldn't find anything. He was starting to feel a little dizzy; everything looked the same. There were no cars like Matt's in the garage anywhere.

Chapter 14

Then he saw it: a black Mercedes sitting in one corner, parked on the line between two spaces. There was another card taped to the car's license plate, the king of hearts. That was all he needed. He didn't see anyone inside the car, but that did leave the trunk. Just as he was about to shoot through the car's window so he could reach in and open the trunk, his phone rang. He sighed in frustration. This was not the right time.

"Yes?"

"G, it's me," said Mikey hurriedly. "I found something important."

"Mike, I don't have time for small talk. I think I've found the car the kid's locked in, and-"

"Don't go near it!" his brother nearly shouted into the phone.

"Why not?"

"That oily stuff was nitroglycerin. There's probably a bomb hidden around there somewhere." Gerard cursed to himself. It would be like Matt to do something like that.

"How much time is left on that meter, Mike?" There was a short pause.

"Five minutes. Get out of there, Gerard."

"No. I'm not leaving without this kid."

"G-" He hung up before Mikey could even start. He knelt to the ground and saw it beneath the car.

The smiling face of a joker stared back at him. It was taped to a black box containing several wires. He saw several small canisters of C-4 as well. This thing was an accident waiting to happen.

"Brian!" he shouted. He heard the faintest of whimpers in response. "Brian, I'm going to get you out of there, but you're going to have to help me. Don't be scared, okay?" he asked nervously. Gerard heard an affirmative response and immediately shot the car's window out and grabbed one of the shards of glass. He crawled beneath the car and saw the dangerous explosives staring him in the face. The whole contraption hummed ominously. He recognized the way it was wired; there was only one wire that would disarm it, and time was quickly running out.

Gerard chose a wire and began sawing away at it with the glass. He accidentally cut himself several times, but focused on his work. He sliced through the last copper thread in the wire, hearing the sound of humming cease. He breathed a sigh of relief and crawled out from underneath the car. The timer was disabled.

"Brian? Are you okay?"

"Mm-hm. But there's something hurting my back." Gerard's face fell. There was a pressure sensor.

"Okay, listen very carefully. I am going to open the trunk, but you can't move, okay? I need you to stay absolutely still."

"Okay," said the boy in a frightened voice.

Gerard began to shake slightly, but took several deep breaths to calm down. He knew he had to stay calm. He looked around for anything he could use that would weigh about the same as the kid. He saw a Jeep nearby, and saw a spare tire on the back as usual. Perfect. He started over to it, making sure there were no explosives wired to it. He called up Mikey and told him to bring a wrench.

His brother arrived a few minutes later and helped him get the tire off of the car. Gerard reminded Brian not to move and pressed the button to open the trunk. He ran to grab the tire and checked his watch. He rolled the tire over to the car, but soon encountered a problem.

"It's no good, Mike. Neither of us can lift it alone, and we still have to move the kid. We need one more person."

"You mean like me?" asked a familiar voice. Bob ran up to them. "Sorry I'm late; I was on my way back from visiting Frank when Mikey called. What do y- Oh." He saw the frightened look on the child's face. He looked like he was about to cry.

"I'll pick up the kid if you two get the tire," said Gerard, checking his watch again. He still didn't trust it; there had to be something else there. He watched as Mikey and Bob picked up the tire. He started to pick up Brian just as they began to place it in the trunk.

"1...2-" Mikey began. Gerard glanced at his watch.

They were out of time.

"Now!" he shouted. He grabbed the boy and held him close, trying to get as far away from the car as possible. He dropped to the floor and rolled behind a Hummer nearby as the Mercedes exploded.

He should have felt relieved that Brian was alive. He should have felt satisfied that a serial killer was dead.

But as he knelt there and gently placed the child on the ground, he felt nothing. Nothing but the sick sense of deja vu.

Chapter 15

The smoke cleared in a minute or so. Gerard knew the fumes could be dangerous, so he moved further from the car and tried to get some fresh air. As much as he hated it, he had his priorities. Brian had to be safe first. He stood in front of an opening in the garage's wall, feeling a soft breeze waft by. He took several deep breaths.

"Mister?" asked Brian. The senior investigator glanced down at him. "Why are you crying?" He hadn't even realized he was. He roughly wiped the tears from his eyes.

"Because," he said curtly. The task ahead of him was going to be rough. He wasn't looking forward to it.

Something latched onto his right leg. He looked down and saw that Brian was giving him a hug. He knelt down and embraced the child.

"Don't worry about me, Brian. I'm just glad you're okay."

"Gerard!" He swiftly turned at the sound of his name. Bob was running toward him.

"You're okay! Where's Mikey?" Brian sat on the ground as Gerard began walking away.

"He was thrown away from the car, and the tire slammed into him. I couldn't get it off of him." They started running. Gerard saw Mikey flattened to the ground by the tire. He had an extra 60 pounds of weight on his lungs, and it wasn't doing him any good. Gerard pushed against the tire, and it began to move. He rolled it away from Mikey and tried to wake him up. He was relieved when his brother started coughing, but that relief quickly turned to panic when he started coughing up blood.

"Mikey, talk to me." Mikey started trying to take smoother breaths. He couldn't find the energy to talk. Bob called for an ambulance while Gerard tried to prop Mikey up, hoping it would help him breathe better.

"It's okay, Mike, you'll be okay." - "His lungs suffered extensive bruising, and his right arm is broken in two places. We're doing everything we can." Gerard took his sunglasses off and put them away.

"I tell people that when the situation couldn't be any worse. I want the truth about my brother," he said pleadingly. The nurse saw the terrified look in his hazel eyes, and sighed.

"He's going to need surgery to remove the damaged tissue from his lungs, and at least two plates for his arm." Gerard nodded and thanked her, returning to the waiting room to sit next to Bob.

"I just got off the phone with Ray; he should be here in a few minutes. What'd they say?" Gerard told him. His face darkened.

"That sounds bad." The senior investigator glared at the floor angrily.

"I can't believe this. First my best friend, now my brother. How could Matt do this to me?"

"He wasn't a normal person, G. He was a psycho." Gerard looked up at him with forlorn eyes.

"He was also a psycho that used to be my best friend." Bob was shocked.

"Yeah. He used to work in our lab. Everything was going great until he killed those people..." His voice trailed off as he let the memories overtake him for a second. He shook his head to get his mind back on track. No point in reminiscing about something that had happened so long ago. "The problem was that he knew exactly how to cover everything up. He took every one of our procedures and used them against us."

"You had no way to catch him." Gerard shook his head.

"He quit not long after the trial ended. And for every day after that, I tried to find him. I hunted him down. I scoured every piece of evidence for something he had missed. There was nothing. When we hired you, I finally gave up."

"Hey guys," said Ray as he walked into the room. Gerard didn't look up at him, as tears were beginning to fall from his eyes. This was almost more than he could take. Bob updated Ray on the situation, and they settled in to wait. - "G? G, wake up." Gerard slowly opened his eyes. He yawned and finger-combed his shortened hair.

"What is it, Ray?"

"Mikey's okay. The surgery went fine, and his arm should heal normally." Gerard smiled.

"I think I'm going to go visit Frank." Ray stopped him.

"Actually, you can't. The doctor said he's got a high risk of infection and-"

"They needed a sterile place for him. They put him in solitary confinement, didn't they? In his own room and everything?" Ray nodded grimly. Gerard had to sit down. He was shaking.

"He hates being alone. He hates it. He's going to lose his mind."

Chapter 16

Gerard didn't look up, even though he clearly heard the door to the lab opening. He had just finished laying out the order of events in this case, and didn't want any interruptions. Three hours of work was not about to go to waste.

He already had everything numbered. The problem was getting it back in order.

"Need some help with that?" His head snapped up. He stared at the figure lazily leaning against the door's frame. Hair was combed in front of one side of his face, but the voice and demeanor were clearly recognizable.

"Frank?" The man nodded.

"Feels good to be back in the field. I had to get my scorpion tattoo redone, and go heavy on the makeup, but other than that, I don't think there's much of a difference." Gerard briskly walked around the counter and over to his best friend.

"What about your face?" Frank pushed the dark locks away from his face, plastering them against the top of his forehead. Gerard's face fell.

The scar was still there, as fresh and painful-looking as the day it had been seared into his friend's skin.

"I'm not allowed to touch it until the tissue heals over. A year minimum." He let the hair fall back into his face.

"Frankie!" Frank turned and was instantly caught in an embrace.

"It's nice to see you too, Mikey. Now can you let me breathe?" Mikey laughed and let go.

"Sorry. I can't believe you were released so soon!"

"You should know by now that you can't get rid of me that easily."

"Hey Bob! Guess who's back," Mikey called, running down the hall. Gerard couldn't help but laugh at his brother's antics. He filed everything on the counter away for later and followed Frank down the hall. The A/V analyst halted at his boss's office and went inside. Gerard watched him as he examined the award their team had received so long ago. There were two photos hanging on either side of it on the wall. The one on the left showed the five of them. Ray and Mikey wore their lab coats (Mikey could look professional when he would so choose), while himself, Bob, and Gerard wore their vests. They all looked serious. Seriously bored.

The other was taken not long after. Frank had stolen Gerard's left shoe right off of his foot, causing the senior investigator to do a faceplant into his brother, and tossed it at the camera. Mikey in turn had tackled Ray, and Bob was rolling his eyes with a look that said 'Here we go again.' They had all signed it in different colored Sharpies, fighting about who would get the red one. Ray beat everyone at rock, paper, scissors for that one.

"I remember this. The ICSIA wanted our pictures. So we sent them a fake one and a real one." Gerard laughed, but his face quickly became serious.

"Frank, I'm truly sorry about what happened to you. I can't believe we didn't realize it was Matt sooner...I can't believe I didn't do anything to protect you...I can't-"

"And I can't believe you won't shut up! It's okay, G; none of this was your fault. It's the result of a freak being a freak. He was the one who sent me through hell and back, not you. Don't worry about me; I'm okay." He smiled at his best friend for a moment. "And now, I have a very important question for you," he said seriously before a smirk overtook his eyes.

"Are you going to finish that pizza?"

"Rock, paper, scissors for it?" Gerard asked with an unconcealed laugh. Frank nodded, and the contest began. Gerard ended up losing the piece of cheese-covered goodness to his friend, who happily chowed down on the day-old snack, but he didn't care.

It was good to have his best friend back.

The End.

Sequel on the way. I won't submit it here until it's finished, but it's almost finished. So don't cry.