He had no idea how long it had been when he gasped awake, but he was still sitting at his desk. His body jerked forwards, one arm reaching out to brace on the desk while the other gripped the arm of his chair as he looked around, disorientated. His mind was so muddled that he didn't know if it had been a few minutes or a few hours. It was freaking him out. Time was missing, like he'd blinked, but really fucking slowly. He almost felt sick, the way he did when he fell asleep during the day and woke up at night. A rarity these days.

"How do you feel?" Nines was a little concerned by his abrupt and unexpected return to consciousness. He'd been so careful while easing him down. He'd relaxed his body as much as possible before administering a small electrical pulse to put him under, and he'd slept soundly for around five hours.

"Like I got hit by a phcking freight train, Christ!" Reed murmured as he pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his foggy head. Nines wondered if perhaps he'd miscalculated the pulse strength. Maybe he'd pushed too hard. He scanned him, but he seemed physically fine besides his usual fatigue. Perhaps he was simply hungry and dehydrated. "What the hell happened?" Reed grumbled as he looked across at Nines, who had been typing up another case file while waiting for him to wake up.

"You fell asleep...It's hardly surprising. Your body was exhausted." There wasn't a trace of dishonesty in his features. Technically, it wasn't a lie. Nines' administrations had led him, but it was his own body that had accepted the urgent need for rest. Nines had only encouraged the inevitable. There was no way he would have been able to force his body to remain active for the next eighteen hours. He would have crashed, and it could have been dangerous. Reed appeared to accept it anyway, cursing softly under his breath as he headed to the bathroom.

He felt out of it as he walked, almost tripping over his own feet as he reached the door and pushed it open. Even though he knew he'd rested, he didn't feel like it. He felt groggy as hell, drained to the core. Turning on the nearest tap, he tried to shake it off by splashing his face with cold water a few times. It felt good on his skin, though the paper towels were a little rough as he dried off and looked in the mirror. He seemed a little more human as he fluffed his hair and toyed with the odd strands that insisted on curling over his forehead.

"What's this?" Reed asked tiredly as he returned to his desk and found a polystyrene box waiting for him with a plastic knife and fork resting on top, and a steaming mug of coffee sitting alongside. Nines looked up from his terminal to watch him nudge the box distrustfully, poking it like he thought it might explode. Nines tilted his head curiously as he watched.

"Breakfast." Reed finally prodded the box open as he sat down, surprised to find a pile of fluffy pancakes, complete with little sachets of syrup tucked inside. He couldn't get used to this. Nines was being almost too fucking attentive. He was really taking this schedule thing to heart. It didn't feel normal. Tina nagged him occasionally, but otherwise he'd been pretty much left to his own devices since Jack died. As long as he got the job done, it didn't matter what happened to his body. He'd always figured he could just rest after a long case and then drag himself through the next one. It was a routine that had been working well for him until Connor came back.

"Thanks." He was pretty damned certain it was Nines who'd ordered for him. He ate quickly, surprised by how hungry he actually felt. The pancakes went cold pretty quickly, but they still tasted good, and he had coffee to warm him up. It was eleven by the time he'd finished and cleaned up, an hour before his shift, but it wasn't unusual for him to start early. "What's the plan for today? Did you guys figure that out yet?" he asked, noting that Connor and Hank had already gone off somewhere.

"We did. Lieutenant Anderson and Connor have gone to watch Mr Adams' home, and will tail him if necessary. You and I shall replace them at five o'clock and watch for eight hours. Officers Tina Chen and Christopher Miller have been drafted in for the early hours shift," Nines explained, watching Reed nod along amicably. So they'd be stuck in the office all day? It could be worse. He could have a session with Dr Marr on top of that. Luckily, she was cutting back since Nines had kicked off his schedule. Speaking of...

"Give me a cigarette," Reed demanded as he reached across their conjoined desks. Nines looked reluctant as he reached into his inside pocket and pulled out the slightly crumpled packet. Reed hadn't realised there was an inside pocket in the snug, fitted jacket. He watched eagerly as Nines opened the small carton and tugged a singular cigarette free, wiggling his fingers impatiently as Nines took his sweet time forking it over, along with the plastic lighter. "Back in a sec," he exclaimed as he all but skipped his way up to the rooftop.

The day was a little cool, a sure sign that summer was coming to a close. He didn't need his jacket yet, but the morning was a little cloudy. He crossed to the waist-high wall as usual and lit up, putting his weight on one leg and crossing his feet as he leaned over and inhaled. It felt like he hadn't had a cigarette in years, green eyes closing to savour the coiling smoke in his lungs. His fingers were a little less jittery now that he'd indulged in his vices. Vices. Who the phck am I kidding? I'm an addict. He certainly felt like he was getting a hit as he breathed in again and sighed out a contented little cloud. Considering how fucking hooked he was on nicotine and caffeine, it was a damned good thing he never went in for red ice.

That didn't mean he'd never tried any other stuff, but he'd managed to limit himself to just the once, mainly because of the price. As a kid, he'd never been able to afford hard drugs, even when working as a runner for the local gang. Those were some fucked up times. Damned good thing he'd gotten out early before any of the swearing in and initiation bullshit. Guess I owe Fowler and Anderson a lot for that...He slowed down a little as he looked at the crowded streets, enjoying the view of people rushing around below. He couldn't keep putting off heading back to work forever, so he finished up and was soon dropping into his seat again.

"Detective Reed?" The voice was eerily familiar, firm footsteps making him turn his head with a frown. There was a short, gruff-looking man walking towards him with purpose. Clean cut, flashy suit, expensive coat, greying hair, and stress lines beyond his years. Reed almost choked out a scoff of disbelief as he got to his feet and held out his hand, feeling the expected firm grip in return. He hadn't expected to see him around the DPD again. Not after Hank had almost knocked his front teeth out. Good thing the old man's not here...

"Agent Perkins, right?...Been a while." Reed nodded politely, wondering what he might want with him. It wasn't like the FBI to come sniffing around their precinct, not when there were no high-profile cases going on. Agent Perkins agreed. It had been a while. Reed used to run into him sometimes during AAL meetups. Since the revolution, he'd stopped going and, judging by the timid figure standing just down the hall trying to seem invisible, he assumed Perkins had also stopped. "Isn't that..." Reed trailed off as he nodded at the lithe figure, who was wearing a pinstriped black suit and matching waistcoat.

"Don't even start...Colin, come over here," Perkins called in a resigned tone. The hazel eyed android looked up in surprise before walking over somewhat stiffly. Reed quickly realised he was nervous. "I didn't ask for this. Management decided. Said it would be good for the department and, much as I hate to admit it, Colin here has been an asset for us," Perkins relented as he waved towards his companion. There was something almost soft in his usually stern chestnut eyes as the uncertain-looking android quietly preened at the praise. Reed was quite shocked. He hadn't realised any other RK800s had been activated. He'd thought they were simply being stored as spare bodies at the tower.

"Detective Reed...and this is Nines. He's my partner," Reed introduced, jerking his head at Nines, who stood as if summoned and stepped closer to his side. He was almost being protective. Perkins gave him a once over, quietly glad that the imposing model hadn't been active during the revolution. That thing looked like it was ready to tear him apart with its bare hands. At least Colin was submissive and soft, even more so than that other android he'd seen following around after Lieutenant Anderson.

"Unfortunately, we didn't come here for pleasantries..." Perkins pulled a small fragment of wood from his jacket pocket. It was enclosed in a clear evidence bag, an unpleasantly familiar sight. Reed looked down at it, a knot of dread settling in his stomach as Perkins offered him the bag. He felt numb as he took it, mouth going dry as he swallowed and licked his lips. His lips moved. He knew they did. He could feel them moving, but nothing was coming out. Why wasn't anything coming out? Why couldn't he say anything? His fucking voice wouldn't work! He can't be back...He can't be back! Not now-not after two phcking years! He said he wouldn't! He said he'd phcking retire!

"Detective Reed!" Nines' silvery eyes analysed the wooden fragment inside the bag. From a visual analysis, it appeared to be bark from a tree, most likely some form of evergreen or fir. It took less than twenty seconds to search the relevance in the DPD database and get flooded with case files. Gavin Reed's case files. The Hickory Killer. Twelve victims. Leading Detective on the case – Gavin Reed. Supporting Detective – Jack Dawson, deceased. Cause of death? A gunshot wound to the head, listed as the final victim in the Hickory Killer case. Detective Reed had tripped a trap within the clock tower and set off the gun. The Hickory Killer disappeared after that. No further victims were known or confirmed. Once he had the details, he scanned Reed closely, overcome with a surge of protectiveness as he took in the rare look of vulnerability.

Reed was usually gruff and tough, a force to be reckoned with. He was known for his fiery temper and unrelenting attitude. Right now, he seemed more unsettled than when he awoke from his nightmares. His skin had noticeably paled, bottom lip quivering as his throat began to seize. Nines had seen this only once before, at Cyberlife Tower. The trembling was setting in as Nines gripped the back of his neck and squeezed, pushing himself into Reed's personal space and embracing him.

"Breathe, Gavin," he urged, taking deep artificial breaths to give him a rhythm to follow. Nines felt Gavin's hands bunch in his jacket as he buried his face further in his muscular chest and gasped for air, breathing faster and faster. Too fast. Nines held tighter, hushing and calming the fragile being in his arms. He used the hand on his neck to tease the muscles, attempting to ground him. Shock...A panic attack...Probability of loss of consciousness? Sixty-seven percent and rising. Nines felt his legs giving out already. He was dazed as he lowered him to his chair, but hadn't lost his grip on the plastic bag for an instant.

"I'll get some water," Colin announced timidly, quickly heading to the breakroom. Gavin was almost going out of his mind, spiralling as he remembered those cases. Each body was another symbol of his failure to do his fucking job. His failure to track down that sicko and put him behind bars. His own incompetence had gotten his partner killed. The recordings. The notes. Even the sick little gifts that had been left for him. It couldn't be him! He wouldn't come back! It didn't make sense. Jack had been the crowning jewel of his career. He said the memory of my face that day, watching me slowly drowning, would be enough for him for the rest of his life! Why the phck would he come back now? It doesn't make any sense!

"Gavin." Nines' calm voice broke through and Gavin finally looked up enough to notice the glass cradled in his hand. Nines helped him sip the water. The coolness helped to ease the tension in his throat, the dizzy feeling slowly receding as he closed his eyes and let the feeling of Nines' large hand on his neck soothe him. He didn't know how Nines knew what he needed, he was just glad that he did. He probably would have fainted like a fucking Disney princess if he hadn't been there to guide him down safely into his chair. Nines was pleased. Gavin's vitals were gradually evening out. He was still stressed, but no longer in danger of passing out. The blind panic had subsided.

"Sorry, I know this must be difficult, but as the lead investigator in the Hickory Killer case, we need your input." Perkins had remained silent during Reed's episode. He knew something would happen. How could it not? He'd been in a similar position more than once, having lost a few good partners and teammates over the years. It was almost inevitable that it would happen, especially to those rising through the ranks. Granted, he'd never been the direct target of a serial killer, but there were still cases that would come up to remind him occasionally. He glanced across at Colin. The RK800 was still fairly new to dealing with humans, so it was his first time witnessing a panic attack. He could tell from the yellow of his LED that he wasn't enjoying the experience. Reed's android was an interesting one. He'd heard a little about it. A strange, even more advanced android discovered in the bowels of Cyberlife Tower. The FBI had attempted to procure it, but Mr Kamski had been strangely insistent that the machine was going to the DPD. He couldn't quite figure out why. Reed was a fine detective, of course, but the work was nowhere near as challenging as the FBI's cases.

"What did you find?" Reed wasn't sure he really wanted to know. He'd finished the water now, both hands playing with the plastic bag. His thumb traced over the rough fragment of bark inside. It was so familiar, almost identical to those he'd received two years ago. He'd sat and done this for hours at a time. A new piece with each body. His gaze drifted across to Jack's desk, remembering the way their eyes had met in frustration as they'd hit dead end after dead end. They'd had nothing on this guy. No trace had ever been left behind. He'd caught a glance of him once in a crowd. At least, he thought he had. There was no way to know for sure, but he'd fucking felt it. He'd felt someone watching the scene, green eyes desperately raking the ring of people for anyone out of place.

"We found a man. Middle-aged, white collar type. He was hanged in the clock tower down town. It was the same place where...With all the similarities, I knew I had to get your input." It made sense. There might be something that he could pick up from the scene that others would miss. He wouldn't be looking at this case with fresh eyes. He'd be looking for old signs. Things that should be there or things that were out of place.

"I can show you a thorough recording of the scene if you'd like," Colin offered in a gentle voice. It was so much like Connor's, but somehow different. Softer. Reed wondered where he'd picked up that softness. Certainly not Perkins. Maybe he adapted...moulded his personality into something he knew Agent Perkins would tolerate. The perfect submissive rookie. It made sense. He was pretty sure Connor had adapted to Hank in a similar manner. Connor was soft, but he had one hell of a backbone. He was someone Hank could respect while also filling the space left behind by his son. He looked at Nines, wondering if his personality was forming based on his own preferences. Phck, what does that say about me?

"Is the scene still locked down?" he asked as he looked at Perkins.

"The body was removed, but besides that, everything is as it was." He already knew what Reed would do. Reed was almost reluctant as he pushed himself up, resting a hand on his desk to steady himself. His legs were still a little shaky, but fucked if he was going to let anyone else see that. He pushed himself upright, rubbing the scar on the bridge of his nose subconsciously. It was something he often did when he was nervous.

"I want to see it in person...Might be something you missed." He didn't miss the way Colin almost frowned at the suggestion. "I handled the case last time. There might be things you weren't expecting to find." He knew the RK series prided themselves on being good at their jobs, and he didn't mean to suggest Colin was slacking off or doing something wrong. Unlike Connor, this one seemed insecure, and since he was working with Perkins, it wasn't really that surprising. He probably thought Perkins was just looking for an excuse to send him to the scrap heap. Not that he could actually do that these days...

"It's pretty standard procedure in cases like these," Perkins confirmed for Colin's peace of mind. The quiet vulnerability eased slightly at the reassurance in Perkin's gruff tone. Having appeased Colin, he turned his attention back to Reed. "I have a car out front if you're ready?" Reed nodded his agreement. There was no way he was fit to drive, and walking around that place would only make it worse. His jaw tightened at the thought of being back there again. He hadn't been inside the clock tower since that day. He barely even went near it, purposely taking any other route to get where he was going.

"Shall I accompany you, Detective?" Nines asked almost eagerly as Reed gave him a hesitant glance. Part of him didn't want Nines anywhere near it. This was his own personal hell, his private waking nightmare. He didn't really want to expose him to that, but he also didn't know what would happen when he set foot inside. The creeping vulnerability made his skin crawl. He'd had a panic attack just holding a piece of wood! What the fuck would happen once he was standing at the scene again? The other question he couldn't help but ask was what would happen if he didn't have Nines there to catch him when he fell? He didn't like being vulnerable, but being vulnerable around outsiders? Fuck, that was worse. As an experienced agent, Perkins could probably deal with it, but that didn't mean Reed wanted him in his personal space. At least Nines was familiar, even if they hadn't been working together that long.

"Sure," he replied stiffly as he grabbed his jacket and pulled it on with shaking hands. The leather shroud calmed him somewhat. It was like a well-worn second skin after all this time. Perkins led the way and Reed was unsurprised to find an expensive black BMW waiting in a large space out front. Perkins took the passenger's seat and let Colin drive while Nines and Reed settled in the back, quietly pleased that the pair up front didn't insist on starting a drawn out conversation. Colin said something about which route to take, but Reed didn't pay much attention as he looked out of the window. His foot tapped nervously and he could feel Nines' piercing eyes examining him.

The closer they got, the higher his stress levels became. He went from looking out the window at the passing streets to looking at his knees, fisting his hands in his lap. Everything about him screamed that he didn't want to be there. He was in extreme discomfort. Nines subtly assessed the probability of him suffering a second panic attack before they even arrived, quietly troubled to find it was creeping above forty percent. Reed bit his cheek nervously and took a few quiet breaths as the car finally parked. He was surprised as his door opened and Colin politely held it for him like a chauffeur. He nodded his thanks awkwardly as he climbed out, shoving his hands in his pockets and rounding the car to step onto the cracked, uneven pavement.

This was an increasingly disused part of town. A couple of years back it had still had a fair bit of life in it, but since the two murders inside the tower, the area had slowly emptied. He looked up at the old stone building to find the old clock at the top still ticking away. It was almost one thirty. Nines would probably be nagging him about lunch right about now if they were back at the precinct. He was hesitant as he looked at the darkened doorway. Holographic tape criss-crossed the entrance to deter people from entering for the third time in three years.

"We'll meet you up there." Perkins led the way inside to give him space, Colin silently following. Reed watched them go, grateful for the time to compose himself. It was good that Perkins got it. Of course, Reed would have issues about being there again, and space was the best remedy for that. Only Nines remained, waiting patiently as Reed took in the details of the old wooden door. It had been fixed at some point. The last time he'd been there, he'd kicked it open so hard the front panel had cracked. It took him a little time to convince himself to cross the threshold. It's not like Jack's up there this time...It's just an empty room. No dead body. No loaded gun...You can do this...

"Take your time," Nines murmured as he noticed his increasing frustration. He was rushing himself, almost forcing his feet to move before he was ready. At Nines' gentle words, he paused and took another breath. He felt better knowing that he wasn't alone. As he trudged through the dimmed doorway, he could feel Nines at his back, a comforting and supportive presence. He gripped the old handrail, the grainy wood feeling horribly familiar beneath his hand. The wooden steps were just as dusty as before, showing a lot of extra footprints had been left this time. Forensics, FBI agents, possibly uniform and homicide, too.

He wondered when the FBI had taken the case. Since his failure, it had just been sitting unsolved in the archives. He hadn't even noticed anyone taking the documents and evidence. The FBI were usually quite vocal about that sort of thing. Then again, I'm not working human homicides anymore, so why would I notice? If anything, he should be relieved that the case was getting the attention it deserved. Perkins may rub many people the wrong way, but there was a reason he was as high up as he was. He was fucking tenacious. His solve rate was the highest in his department, and that would likely only increase now that he had an RK800 on his team.

As he climbed the winding staircase, Reed could hear and feel every little creak. It was the same. Exactly the same. Looking up, he could see the dim grey light shining down, creeping through the open sides of the bell tower and small holes in the cracked roof tiles. Dust particles danced through the air as they had that day. The day he shot Jack. He paused, hand tightening on the rail. Nines stopped behind him and touched his shoulder blade, a simple reminder that he was there. Reed licked his lips before forcing himself to continue up. The huge silver bells were dusty and caked in bird crap. He didn't know how the birds could stand nesting up there with all the noise. The door at the top was wide open, flooding him with relief. He didn't have to relive how he'd forced his way in and heard that fucking click.

"The body was here...strung up, just like the first one," Perkins reported as Reed finally reached the doorway. He couldn't stop his eyes from ghosting over the worn doorframe. Cracks had been left behind where the tripping mechanism had been removed by forensics. It was fixed now. Every trace was long gone. Even the gun and pulley system that had been fixed on the far wall between the bells had been taken down. Reed stepped inside and walked to the middle of the room. Fresh dust and dirt had covered the scuff marks left behind by the wooden chair and the blood had been cleaned up. He looked up to examine the rope. It seemed the same as the first case. Standard rope you could find at any good hardware store. The end had been cut, likely by the forensics team.

"What knot was used?" Reed almost flinched as Colin opened his hand to display a closeup picture. It was a standard noose. A knot that would slip easily when weight was applied. It was the same used in the Hickory case, but also a pretty standard knot. It was so common that it came up in around seventy percent of cases like this. Even more so in suicides. He nodded almost dismissively as he slowly walked around the room. Nines was giving him space, letting him sink into the moment. Green eyes ran over everything. "Where did you find the wood?" he asked as he looked at Colin, who seemed to be the keeper of information.

"It was left in his breast pocket. The victim was a businessman, so he was wearing a three-piece suit when he was found," Colin replied dutifully, though he didn't bring up the pictures. He'd already sent the file to the RK900 to be reviewed at a later time. He didn't want to further add to the detective's trauma. Reed nodded grimly. The wood had always been tucked away in a pocket or purse somewhere, so that was consistent, but it was also common knowledge.

"What about the recording? There was always a tape left behind..." He clenched his teeth at the memory. Always another verse. Always that creepy fucking sound. Grainy and distorted children's voices. Colin nodded his agreement as his LED span yellow, making Reed flinch as he began replaying the recording verbally.

"Hickory Dickory Dock, The mouse ran up the clock, The clock struck one, The mouse ran down, Hickory Dickory Dock, Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock." The voice sounded off. Something was different. Reed's brow furrowed, and Nines noticed immediately. It's wrong...I mean, that's what it sounded like, but it seems...more distorted? Is it the RK800's playback? But these advanced androids never usually had trouble playing recordings perfectly. Maybe there really was something off and he should listen to his instincts.

"Is that the exact recording? It hasn't been altered? Doesn't sound different coming from your...voice box?" Reed checked, receiving the confirmation he'd expected. "Something's not right...It's more distorted than usual, almost like...a recording of a recording." Perkins cottoned onto it straight away. "Was anything else found? A note or a card...anything?" Reed checked, getting another negative. That isn't right either. If he's come back, then why would he start over? Why wouldn't he leave something for me? After the first few cases, when it became common knowledge that I was the lead investigator, he always left something. Always. He wouldn't leave me like this! He wouldn't start over with someone else! His chest clenched unpleasantly at the thought, breath huffing at his own musings. It was almost egotistical to think that way, but that's how it had been. For nine of the twelve murders, he'd been his primary focus, the name he'd signed, the one he'd left gifts for.

"What are you thinking, Detective?" Perkins asked, watching him burying his hands in his pockets with quiet agitation.

"I just...It doesn't feel right! He phcking...He spent months being...He always..." Reed trailed off, hissing through his teeth as he paced the wooden floorboards. The words were hard to push out. It sounded too self-centred, like he was putting himself on some sick sort of pedestal, but that was how he felt. Perkins was patient as he waited, letting him gather himself. "It isn't personal enough...For most of the investigation, he called me by name. He left me messages, added things to the recordings, phck...I know it sounds...fucked up..." he added, running a frustrated hand through his brunette hair.

"No, it makes sense...I've looked through the old case files. He was pretty obsessive...Do you think he'd start over? Try to form a new bond with someone else?" Perkins asked with interest, watching Reed carefully for a reaction. Boy, did he fucking get one. Nines was surprised to note an almost jealous air to Reed's emotional responses. He looked like he was about to physically assault Perkins for the mere suggestion of being cast aside. After everything he'd been put through, everything he'd fucking lost, he was expected to believe the fucker would just move on? When he'd said he would retire? When he'd ruined his fucking life?

"Detective, please unhand my partner." Colin didn't want to manhandle the younger human and possibly rile his successor. Reed had grabbed the lapels of Perkin's woollen coat and almost hefted him off his feet, not a difficult feat with his smaller stature. At Colin's warning, Perkins held an arm out. He could handle Reed. Chestnut pierced green and Reed almost seemed confused by his own reaction. His hands shook with vulnerability as he clenched the crisp material.

"Maybe he got bored...After all, the game with you has ended. He killed your partner and broke you down...Sure, he said he'd retire, but there was only so long he could watch you wallowing and moving on before he got restless...Maybe he figured he'd start again. Find a new toy to play with," Perkins murmured, watching Reed's eyes fill with denial and uncertainty. Words stuck in his throat again, choking him. What if he was right? What if the Hickory Killer had given up on him? It had been two years, and every day he'd wallowed in self-pity and hatred. He'd pushed everyone away and tried to put his life back into some form of order. It had been so fucking hard. It still was. But he remembered how that slick voice had crooned his name in those recordings and he just couldn't accept it. He wouldn't just toss him aside for someone else like that! Not when he hadn't hit the breaking point.

"No...I-I-don't...I'm sure. It's not him-it's-not-him!" Gavin felt Nines' hands grip his shoulders, tensing as they slowly slid down his arms to gently prise his fingers from Perkins' coat. Nines whispered a few assurances, gently purring that he was probably right, that it was probably someone else. The FBI would have to look into every possibility whether this was the real killer or not. Perkins assessed Detective Reed warily. He didn't like what he was seeing. He seemed almost lovesick, like a jilted lover facing the reality of their partner's infidelity. The worst part was that he could see him recognising and crumbling under the weight of those feelings. Shame and self-loathing were setting in fast alongside the inevitable panic.

"Thank you for your time, Detective. We'll let you know if we need your input on anything else," Perkins assured in a softer tone, watching Gavin nod numbly. He didn't expect anything else. The most he could do on this case was consult. He was too close to it, and couldn't become any more entangled than he already had. Whether the killer was real or not, it was Perkins' case now. Gavin couldn't help the sickening wave of nausea that crashed over him at the thought. He vaguely heard Colin offer to drive them back to the station, but Nines declined. He released his arms, but remained a close and supportive presence. Gavin reached back and grasped at him, grabbing anything he could reach. He ended up with a handful of rough denim, squeezing urgently. Air-I need air-Out-I want out!

"We'll walk back," Nines added politely as he felt the urgent tug. From Gavin's vitals, he knew he was about to break. He took the hand from his jeans and wrapped his free arm around his shoulders, steadily leading him back into the stairwell. They walked at a measured pace. He didn't let him rush as he so desperately wanted to, unwilling to risk him falling in his disorientated state. As soon as they were outside, Gavin doubled over and leaned against the wall, breathing heavily as he squeezed his eyes shut. "Having reviewed the case, I believe you are correct...The Hickory Killer wouldn't come out of retirement without involving you somehow." That just made him feel worse.