Author's note: Just a quick note: the last chapter was not written as a response to feedback. As a matter of fact, I wrote that chapter very early on in the story. Trust me, if I were catering to the opinions of Wattpad as a general public, Nightingale would be with David and he would be six foot two with rock-hard abs. He would also probably be a werewolf....also, we are getting close to the end. Just a few more chapters after this one.

It was the next morning that Nightingale announced her desire to see her sisters. She was sitting across from Robin at a long, oak table, eating the very first breakfast she'd ever had. In her five years of life, she'd never once eaten any meal besides a light, midday lunch. And now, she was seated opposite Robin, experimenting with putting the yolk from a soft-boiled egg on a piece of crunchy toast.

"Your sisters?" asked Robin, staring at her from over the tablet that was attracting his attention. "I'm not sure I can take you, Nightingale."

When he gave her a strange look, his eyebrows raised and his lips pursed, Nightingale looked down to see the reason for it.

Sitting on her left hand, leaning down to peck the crumbs from her plate, was Nightingale's bird.

"Are you sure she should be at the table, dear heart?" enquired Robin, the sweet pomposity of the endearment mingling with the light sarcasm in his tone. "I'm not sure it's sanitary to have a bird eating from your plate."

Nightingale shrugged and stroked her nightingale's head. "She couldn't give me anything, Robin. The Corporation saw to it that I'm immune to every known viral or bacterial infection," she said. She snorted bitterly as she went on. "Making sure I wouldn't get a venereal disease and die on my owner, I suppose. How good of them, to keep me healthy to make sure I was a good investment."

When she saw Robin smile sadly, she went on, her tone a shockingly convincing mimicry of his stuff tone. "Besides, her name's Freedom. You don't expect me to put Freedom in a cage, do you?"

Robin laughed. "Clever, but really, Nightingale? Freedom? What a terrible name."

Nightingale snorted. "My bird, my rules," she retorted.

Robin chuckled. "Now, about your sisters. You'll have to call David, I think."

Nightingale snorted once more in a most unladylike fashion. "Where is the illustrious detective, by the way?" she asked. It was a testament to her infatuation with Robin and her new interest in Freedom that she had not even considered his presence until that point.

"Gone. Drank most of my fine cognac and then disappeared, the bastard," sniped Robin. However, the smile on his face betrayed his affection for his friend.

"Well, I'm going to try to avoid him as much as possible," said Nightingale. Seeing that Freedom had finished with the crumbs on her plate, Nightingale lifted the bird to her shoulder.

"For the obvious reason?" asked Robin.

"For the obvious reason," said Nightingale.

There was a little pause.

"We are thinking of the same obvious reason, right?" she asked, arching her eyebrows.

There was another pause.

"Awkwardness?" asked Robin.

Nightingale nodded. "Besides, I'd be going by myself if I didn't need someone to fly me there," she added. Freedom, meanwhile, in a flutter of wings, launched herself from Nightingale's shoulder to the top of her cage.

"You could always take the public shuttle," said Robin.

Now Nightingale eyed him disdainfully. "I've been free for only a few days, Robin. Pardon me for not having an intimate knowledge of the city's transit system. Besides, I've still got my identification anklet, remember? It's probably not the best idea for me to be-"

"Amongst the common people?" asked Robin, finishing her sentence smoothly.

"You make me sound like a pariah," she observed, scowling down at her clean plate. Freedom had done an excellent job cleaning up the crumbs.

"On the contrary, I meant to make you sound like a queen," said Robin. As he spoke, he smiled in a way that was utterly charming.

Nightingale smiled back before she went on. "Still, I need someone to fly me there. And considering that you're here and have access to a hovercraft..." she said, letting her words trail off.

"Fine. I'll take you there," he groaned.

"Besides, you ought to meet my sisters," she said. "They would probably like to meet someone who did so much for them. Not to mention that they'd probably also like to meet you for the obvious reason."

"Nightingale, don't be like David. Say what 'obvious reason' you mean," Robin chided her.

Nightingale sighed. "Because they'll be seeing more of you because I love you," she said, lifting her eyes to Robin's. She stared at him directly as she said it, loath to resemble David in any sense.

Robin grinned. "Thank you, Miss Nightingale," he said.

Nightingale rolled her eyes and stood up. When Robin made no move, she put her hands on her hips and stared down at him expectantly.

"Oh, you want to go now?" he asked.

Nightingale nodded.

"Fine," he huffed, and hauled himself to his feet. "I suppose a woman may take liberties."

Nightingale smiled as she patted Robin's arm, a mischievous grin on her face. She recognized the quotation as one from Pride and Prejudice. So she knew that he meant that-

"A woman may take liberties with her husband," she told him, smirking. "Are you implying something, Mr. Brightley?"

Robin sent a smirk right back her way. "Me? Imply anything? Never," he replied.

Nightingale laughed and took his arm.

It was a quick flight to Headquarters, even with Robin's slightly shaky driving. As he operated the hovercraft, Nightingale paid special attention. After all, she was hoping to learn how to do it herself so that she wouldn't need Robin to chauffeur her around.

When they arrived, they were authenticated by two guards. Nightingale, curious to see if her status would have changed, found herself named "Nightingale York" but still with the same level of clearance - that is, to say, Level One.

"Nightingale York?" she asked the guard who had taken her hand-print.

The guard simpy shrugged and waved them through, giving quick directions in Nightingale's response as to where she might find the Inamoratas.

"Follow the signs. You'll get to a steel door. There, tell the agents the name of the bordello whose Inamoratas you want to see," he said.

"You mean, former Inamoratas," she grumbled as she and Robin marched through.

"Don't be pedantic," he reprimanded, his reproach so gentle that it could hardly be taken as anything actually disapproving.

As they entered, Nightingale watched in fascination as Robin spoke and the walls seemed to answer.

"Inamorata's quarters, please," he said.

"This way," said the computer, sounding as stately as ever. As the voice spoke, a blue, glowing arrow suddenly appeared in the smooth, white wall ahead of them. Nightingale had to smile in wonderment as the arrow began to shift, directing them through hallways until, at the end of one, they reached a huge steel door, double and fastened by two enormous wheels.

Immediately, the blue-clad guards standing before it approached them. However, at one look from Nightingale they shied away. Instead, they pressed forward, their attention focused on Robin.

"I'm afraid we can't let you in," said one to him. "Ms. York, yes, but not you."

Robin only raised his eyebrows.

"He's with me," she told them, still wondering the etymology of her new surname.

"But ma'am-" began the nearest guard, looking anxiously at her.

"This is Robin Brightley," said another guard. She was staring down at a tablet in her hands. "Security put him through just a few minutes ago. Detective Beckett says he's cleared to enter."

"Fine," said the first guard, still looking wary.

"The inhabitants of the former York Bordello," requested Robin, his voice at its politest and most genteel. "If you would be so kind."

"Figured as much," said the female guard.

Now it was Nightingale's turn to raise her eyebrows. "Oh?" she asked, addressing herself to the guard who had spoken. "And why would you 'figure as much'?"

"Because you're Nightingale York," said the guard.

One could have heard the proverbial penny drop as the connection clicked in Nightingale's mind. "Nightingale York? York?" she hissed. Though her anger was not directed at them, they skittered back like frightened animals. "That's a pleasant little memento of my slavery, isn't? I have to carry it with me as my name?"

Robin said nothing as waved to the guards and they let them through. The same glowing blue arrows directed them through hallways until they reached another door, this one a glossy black with the words "Bordello: York, under Pherson, Robert" illuminated in glowing white letters.

All of Nightingale's anger melted away as she opened the door and saw the inhabitants of the room beyond. Robin, loitering on the threshold, apparently decided not to enter the room.

As she stepped in, the heads of the Inamoratas therein turned.

"It's Nightingale!" she heard Sparkle squeal.

Any reservedness they'd had about her - likely due to seeing her practically mad with grief and holding a gun only nights before - was gone in that instant. Nightingale was barely able to see the common room before her, furnished with its white chairs and sofas, before she was mobbed by her sisters.

All of them, even Fox, who'd once been aloof, seemed excited to see her. Several of them hugged her, Emerald, Lace, Peppermint, and Sparkle leading the pack in nearly squeezing the life out of her with their enthusiasm, while most others simply patted her hair or kissed her cheek.

It was only after Magenta had slapped her on the shoulder with enough force to make her lurch and glare into Magenta's smirking face that Nightingale noticed that something was wrong.

"Someone's missing," she muttered to herself. It took her no time at all to spot the problem.

"Where's Rose?" she asked, worry springing to life in her and making her stomach churn uncomfortably.

"Um," said Sparkle, to whom Nightingale had addressed her question.

"We don't know," Magenta provided. "She was taken down to special custody, they say. That was after the agents hauled her out of the building without her gun."

Nightingale flinched, the words hitting her like a bolt of lightning. "Oh my God," she said. "Have...have any of you seen her since? What did she do?"

"We've not seen her," said Ruby, speaking up from the back of the throng.

"They say she shot Bobby," muttered Diamond, not quietly enough to escape Nightingale's notice. 

"What?" she whispered. She'd been in such a state the night of the raid, so shocked by unhappiness that while she'd noticed Rose sprinting back into the bordello, gun in hand, incensed by the news of Clarence's death, she hadn't thought that Rose would be capable of using it.

"Give her a fucking medal, I say," snapped Magenta, her dark eyes flashing with fire. "She shot Bobby. Took matters in her own hands. She's a fucking hero, not a criminal."

"Who arrested her?" asked Nightingale.

"Well, it was the two other agents-" began Peppermint, chewing her lip.

"Agent Jacobsen and Agent Castleman," supplied Cocoa, evidently trying to be helpful.

"That brought her out," Peppermint went on. "But they didn't have cuffs on her or anything. It was only after we got here they dragged her out. The redhead-"

"Agent Bure," Cocoa said, again supplying a name Peppermint had forgotten.

"Yes, Agent Bure, she was the one who put the cuffs on Rose and took her away," finished Peppermint.

Nightingale turned on them without another word. Much to the protestations and queries of her sisters, whom she knew she was abandoning, she turned on her heel and marched right out the door.

"Nightingale!" called Robin when she stormed past him. "Nightingale!"

"Come with me, Robin. I'm going to find David and free Rose, and I might need your help," she told him.

His brows drew together and he looked concerned, but he followed her obediently.