When I open my eyes, it's still nighttime, with no sign of sunlight gleaming into my room. I frown when I realize that the reason I awakened is because my wound was bleeding- heavily. Grunting softly, I hoist myself up in the darkness. I spread my legs out a bit as I reach to the side for any object to hold on. My fingertips brush against the smooth wall as I slowly trudge through the blackness to the light switch near the door. I feel the doorknob, then move my hand along the wall until I feel the switch.

I turn the light on, the entire room brightens abruptly, causing me to groan and cover my eyes. When my eyes finally adjust to the sudden change of brightness, I shake my head and rub the sleep out of my eyes. Remembering that my bandages are still bloody and that my wound is most likely still bleeding, I swiftly remove my shirt and bandages, quickly throwing the soaked bandages away. I realize that I'll need to take a shower to wash all of the blood off, and head to the bathroom to do so.

After I've taken a shower, I change into a pair of dark jeans and don't put my shirt on yet. There's no way I'd be able to fall asleep after a shower, I tell myself. Making sure that I don't bleed onto the floor, I don't hesitate in wrapping my lower torso in fresh layers of gauze. I put away the medical supplies and walk over to my desk. Some more research couldn't hurt, right?

Once I open up the search bar, I lean back slightly in my chair, tapping my chin in deep thought. "What would I type if I need to find out about something..?" I ask myself. I press my lips together and type in 'Michelle Barrera and David Grahams'. Of course, the links that show up just say how they're the two victims of this case. "So they finally told the population about David, huh?"

I then type in additionally 'Romantic Couple'. This time, biographies about each victim show up on the screen of my laptop. I sigh and cover my irritated face with my hands. I mentally curse myself for still being too broad. Especially since not too much has been revealed about either one on the Internet.

I raise my head out of my hands. Sighing half-heartedly, I delete the entire search entry and stare blankly at the empty search bar for a moment or two.

Then it clicks, and I type in the words 'David and Michelle Grahams'.

And that's when it happens. When the articles I actually want pop up on the computer screen.

A full-fledged grin appears on my face as I click on 'Images'. Almost instantaneously, a plethora of pictures appear in front of me. All the pictures, although different people are in each photograph, have one constant- the actual bride and groom.

I raise an eyebrow, still smirking. The chestnut-brown hair they occupy won't fool me- the bride and groom are still Michelle Barrera and David Grahams.

Well, Michelle and David Grahams. Mr. and Mrs. Grahams.

I stand up so abruptly, my chair almost tips over. Gazing down at my laptop. I say to myself, "They were married! Not boyfriend and girlfriend." I shake my head. "Why didn't I think of that possibility earlier?!"

Suddenly, I frown. Slowly sitting down in my chair, I move the mouse and click on the last photo on the first row of pictures, where it's a close-up of Michelle and David exchanging rings. Both were just silver with diamonds adjourning it completely. Nothing unique.

Wait a minute.

Rings.

Rings.

In the photos, they were almost done exchanging their rings. So that means that they should still have their rings on their ring fingers.

I lean back in my chair again, exhaling sharply. CLosing my eyes briefly, I decide on one thing.

I need to see Steven again. Today.

I quickly run out of the room, not minding the unnecessary noise I'm creating. Quickly putting my tan shirt on, I grab my laptop and room key. After I slip out into the Level 8 hallway, I dash towards the elevators, once again not caring about the sounds I'm making.

Once the elevator reaches the ground floor, I blindly rush out only to crash into the back of Mr. Wallace. Instead of falling down, I crash into the smooth metal of the elevator doors. I hold the computer in front of me in one hand and rub my nose with the other, groaning at the pain.

After a few minutes, I shake my head and apologize, "My apologies, Mr. Wallace. I should've been paying more attention. When I straighten myself, I remember my reason for initially crashing into him. "Mr. Wallace- do you know where the forensic pathologist, Steven, is?"

Mr. Wallace seems to be taken by surprise, and doesn't answer for a moment. Then he begins to smile. Chuckling, he says, "You're the one who figured it out?" He then grins and pats my shoulder.

Instead of smiling at him, I scowl. "You knew?" I ask, moving to the side and around him. "How long..?" When he curls his hand into a fist, I step back, mentally creating an escape plan if that became necessary.

He senses my skepticism, I can tell. Shaking his head, he replies "I was just searching through your browser history- see how the research is going, that's all. Of course a Percipient would come to that conclusion before anyone else." And for a moment, I think I saw him flinch after giving me that statement.

I brush aside Mr. Wallace's "compliment" and focus on the fact that Mr. Wallace has been meddling with my research from the sidelines, maybe even Sophie's as well. Male stereotypes tell me to warn everyone and be the spontaneous "hero", but my way of thought tells me to say something- anything- first, then get the information I need in secret. Nodding as if I didn't care about the explanation, I ask, "So, where's Steven?"

His expression rather astonished, Mr. Wallace shakes his head again. "Follow me, then," he says, clearing his throat as he leads the way to the laboratory. But this time, since there isn't a blushing Sophie to make me blush as well, I'm able to remember the directions to the laboratory.

Left, right, right, straight, then a sharp left.

Left, right, right, straight, then a sharp left, I recite mentally. Realizing just how vast the ground floor is, I widen my eyes. I stare at the grey hair on the back of his head as we stop in front of some steel-colored doors. Mr. Wallace doesn't hesitate to knock loudly on the doors.

When the doors eventually open, Caroline's perky face greets us. Practically ignoring the presence of Mr. Wallace, she grins brightly at me. Leaning her head back, she squeaks excitedly, "Steven! It's that boy who's a Percipient- or something like that..!" She then drags me inside, quickly closing the door behind us so Mr. Wallace wouldn't enter after.

Steven looks up from his tablet, smiling as happily as Caroline. Flashing a smile back at him, I thank Caroline and walk over to the forensic pathologist. "Great news!" he says when I'm within earshot. "I got my hands on a blank autopsy sheet, so we could fill it out." When he holds the sheet of medical paper out to me, I smile at him.

I then remember what I originally wanted here, and ask Steven, "Do you have a second tablet? I need to check something," I add in for further clarification. Steven nods and hands me another tablet with a bulky case, just like the one from the last time I came here. Shaking my head, I then zoom in on Michelle's bloody corpse, willing myself to not flinch at the sight of her. Quickly focusing on her hands, I scan for anything that'll help me reach my conclusion.

I look at one hand.

Then the other.

Yet I still don't find it.

"That's weird..." I mutter to myself. I frown and furrow my eyebrows as I scavenge the picture another time.

Steven must've heard me, since he asks, "What's the matter, Fitz?"

I glance up at him, my lips curling down in an evident scowl. "It's just that Michelle should have a ring from her wedding. It turns out that the two victims, David and Michelle, were actually married, not just dating." When Steven's eyes widen, I nod in agreement. "Yeah, I know. Anyways, I can't find that ring anywhere, so that leaves us with yet another question without an answer."

"Maybe she knew what was going to happen, and didn't want other people to know?" Steven offers, shrugging his shoulders.

I shake my head. "No... Many people came to their wedding, surprisingly. I'm surprised that they don't have it on the folders." I pause, letting my mind build a solid theory before I say it. "Then what if, the reason it wasn't in the files is because someone intentionally deleted it? Maybe the killer's taking extra precautions, trying to lead people in another direction."

Of course, Steven just has to say unhelpfully, "Possibly."