"The agent is female and she's in my office right now?" Fyn repeated. "But I was there just a minute ago..." Then it dawned on him. "Celia?! She's an Ulvari agent? No way!"

"Yes, Miss Warren is a junior agent of the Ulvari. She specializes in computer research and, of course, undercover operations because nobody would suspect a harmless-looking girl," the editor-in-chief answered with a crooked smile.

"That's... wow, I would never have guessed..." the lifebearer murmured. "But that also means that she won't be my assistant in the future. Damn shame!" Then another realization hit him. "If it's her job here to spy on me, then this means that partnering me up with Eondar was just a ruse as well, right?"

"Not really. He wanted to work here anyway, and it was convenient since Miss Warren was easily able to keep an eye on him as well," Jordan explained hastily when he saw the lifebearer's face darken again. "He would have been your partner no matter what, and you should know by now that he's good at his job."

"That's beside the point," Fyn said, eyes lingering on Eondar. "I absolutely loathe being kept in the dark like this! And you both know that your so-called reasons for not telling me anything make me look like a stupid, careless, helpless child!" He took a deep breath. "Anyway, my getting worked up over spilled milk is useless. I have a job to do."

Then Fyn left his editor-in-chief's office. He was still furious, but mostly hurt. If he hadn't been a tiny, cute, too-young-looking lifebearer, those two sires would have come clean to him right away. It was really the story of his life. But the thing that stung the most was the fact that Eondar should have been known by now that Fyn was indeed far more capable than he looked.

Celia at least wasn't contrite for pretending to be the intern. "I love what I do here, and I learned at lot from you," she said, when they sat down for a cup of coffee in Fyn's office a few minutes later. "This has been by far the best undercover job for me. Often enough, I had to I go back to high school - yuck."

Fyn could relate to that, given the high schoolers regularly hitting on him on the bus. "But I have to find someone new to be my regular assistant once your assignment is over. I would have preferred you to stay."

She beamed at him, dark eyes sparkling. "Thanks. But there's no reason why we shouldn't work together in the future. The Alliance always needs private contractors and informants. I'm actually surprised that they've never contacted you on that before."

The journalist could very well imagine why they hadn't but he wouldn't pass a chance to work with the Alliance like he had always wanted to. "I certainly intend to be a big help to you for a change, Celia," he said. "Wait, it that your real name, by the way? Or aren't you allowed to tell me?"

"Cecilia is my middle name, after my grandmother," the girl - no, agent - answered. Fyn could now understand a bit better how easy it was to underestimate people based on looks. He wouldn't have ever guessed this bubbly, sweet girl to be an Ulvari operative. "And speaking of telling: I rummaged through your computer more than once, I'm afraid. But I didn't find anything related to this case."

"That's because I use my old recording device for important stuff." Fyn grinned and gave her the old-fashioned little piece of technology he always kept on his person. "They don't manufacture those anymore, so the tapes are useless since they can't be read by newer equipment. I don't know if my research so far can help you at all, but I want it back later. This still might be my biggest story so far. And if there's anything else I can do, just tell me."

Celia took the device and pocketed it. "Of course." She hesitated before she continued, "And one more thing: please don't be mad at Eondar. He just wanted to protect you." Celia hesitated before she continued. "I know it's not really my business, but I've gotten to know you two very well in the time I've been working here, and I truly care."

At the mention of the photographer, Fyn's face closed up again. "I wanted to talk with him anyway. Can I still send you downstairs to fetch some old articles for me? Amidst all this chaos, we have to keep on working like normal, and if you stop assisting me, it might look suspicious."

"I'm still the intern here," she replied with a conspiratorial grin and got up. "I'll get your records to my colleagues at lunch break, and you'll have them back in one or two days, I'm sure."

When she was gone, the lifebearer sat down behind his desk and tried to sort through all the events that had happened. He was determined to be a deciding factor in this investigation and prove himself to those condescending sires. He wasn't going to rely on others for help, but do all the work himself. And now that Fyn knew the bigger picture, his collected data could be seen in a different light. He didn't need the details on his recording device; his memory was clear enough. The journalist took a piece of paper and a pen and started drawing a chart. It was a trick he had learned from his sire. Whenever Sheldon was at a dead end in an investigation, he made a hand-drawn chart to visualize every event, person, place, and object that was related to the case.

Fyn was so engrossed in his work that he didn't notice the knocking at his door at first. When he finally looked up and called "Enter", it wasn't Celia as he had expected. It was Eondar. The sire still looked ill at ease.

The lifebearer took a deep breath. "Close the door and lock it, please." When Eondar complied, Fyn got up from his desk and walked toward the photographer. "I've decided not to yell at you anymore. But I think we still have things left to clear up. I want to know where I stand with you; not just after last night, but in regards to what I just learned as well. I want to continue to work with you because I'm a professional and I don't want personal differences to affect our work relationship."

The sire looked down at him for a few moments, but as always, there was no haughtiness in the way he did it. "Like Jordan said: we would have worked together anyway. I did want to tell you everything, and I feel bad for not doing so, but the reason wasn't me not trusting you or not believing in your ability to handle it. I just didn't want to drag you into this mess."

"But as far as I understand it, I have been right in the middle of it from the beginning." Fyn crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared up into Eondar's face with a challenging glare.

"I had the hope that it was not your research that had caused the criminals' threats, especially since you never mentioned it although you told me so much about the things that are important to you. Celia also didn't find anything. At best, you could have been left out of this completely," Eondar answered. There was a glimmer in his steely eyes Fyn couldn't exactly name. Worry, yes, but something else. "But now it's a moot point anyway."

"So... you truly stayed silent out of concern for me?" Fyn still wasn't exactly happy with that prospect, but it was a reason he could at least accept.

The sire nodded. He hesitated for a moment, a heavy inner conflict mirrored in his whole demeanor. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision. "Although I didn't tell you certain things, I never lied to you - save for one occasion. You remember asking me about the reason for my recent nightmares? I told you I didn't know then. But I do. The reason I've been waking up screaming every night since I started working here was because of you. I dreamed of you being killed, and all I could do was watch in utter helplessness - just like it had been with my betrothed Sharelan and my colleague Jamie."

"What?" Fyn wasn't sure that he'd heard correctly.

"Let me show you something," the sire murmured. He took his wallet from his jacket pocket and pulled out two photographs.

"This was my betrothed Sharelan. He hated this particular picture I took of him, but I kept it." Eondar showed Fyn the more crumpled of the two photographs. It showed a slender lifebearer in a too-big, white shirt with disheveled, golden blonde hair flowing in waves over his shoulders. He was just looking up from a book he'd been reading; lips slightly apart, light eyes huge in his delicate face. The journalist was spontaneously reminded of the way his own father looked.

"He was really beautiful," the journalist admitted, feeling a twinge of sadness at the thought of this young man's sudden and tragic death.

"He was," Eondar agreed softly, eyes downcast. Then he showed Fyn the other picture. "Michael and Jamie, just before our trip to Azirus."

But the lifebearer would have guessed their identity anyway. The shot showed two human men, one in his forties, and the other barely in his twenties. The older guy had a beard, glasses and was wearing a big, cheeky grin and a t-shirt reading "The Mike" in bold red letters. Fyn instantly regretted not having met Michael Nolan.

Jamie Hendricks, on the other hand, smiled very shyly into the camera. His strawberry-blonde hair was short, but threatened to curl at the ends, and a lot of freckles decorated his nose. Next to the heavily-built Michael, he seemed positively tiny, and his whole appearance just screamed "cute".

Fyn frowned as Eondar put the pictures back into his wallet. "Okay, I see it. Sharelan, Jamie, and I are all the same type: we're small and have blonde, wavy hair. I guess you think this is a pattern, right? Eondar, I'm terribly sorry for your losses, but this is ridiculous. I'm not in danger, and I'm not going to die just because I happen to look a bit like them!"

"It's more than that, Fyn," the sire said with a look so serious and stern that it was almost scary. "You know that some lashran, mostly magically gifted ones, have visions and dreams of their future mate long before they meet? I don't have any magic, but like everyone else in my family, I have those visions. My brother knew right away that Jordan was the one for him, and so did my sire when he met my father. Since I can remember, I have been dreaming of a petite young man with blonde locks. Then I met Sharelan, and I was sure that he was the one I had been waiting for."

Fyn turned away from Eondar, finally realizing what this was all about. The photographer had lost his destined mate in a terrible accident, and when he had somehow overcome it, he had met Jamie who happened to resemble Sharelan. Fyn was now sure that Eondar had planned on starting a relationship with Jamie, but the young journalist's death had once again crushed any hopes. And now, the sire had met Fyn, who also resembled Sharelan enough to be a substitute.

"I'm very sorry," the lifebearer whispered, feeling tears welling up in his eyes. Yesterday definitely hadn't been the worst day of his life - today was now officially claiming that trophy. Fyn swallowed and tried to sound firm. "But it might not be such a good idea to continue to work as partners. I said I don't want personal issues to affect it, but in this case..."

"I understand," Eondar answered very quietly.

If Fyn hadn't known better, he could have sworn that the sire sounded hurt. But that was nonsense. Of course it was horrible to lose the love of your life, but trying to replace them with other people who could never live up to it was downright cruel, and Fyn wanted no part in it. He would not be a cheap replacement for beautiful, perfect Sharelan. Even if it might be his only chance to be with someone... he loved.

Fyn closed his eyes, and tears rolled down his cheeks. Yes, he loved Eondar. It wasn't just physical attraction anymore, and maybe it never had been. He loved that gentle, quiet, and courageous sire. They had so much in common, and Eondar was maybe the only one besides his parents, Kalish, and Celia who truly respected him.

But all of that didn't matter anymore, and maybe it had never been real at all. All this time, Eondar had just been seeing his dead lover in Fyn's face.

To be continued...