"Okay, Emily Duncan," you say as you pull up a file.  Dirty blonde hair, brown eyes, small freckles everywhere.  "Estate agent.  Very successful, a hidden millionaire.  She deals with homes all over England."

        "So she knows about advanced security systems."

        "Here, it says she used to be a security guard, which, ironically, is currently the same occupation as her older brother."  You look up at Tom.  "And, if you so desire, we can look into her schedule so we can talk to her."  Tom smirks and looks back at the screen.  His hand goes over yours so both of you can click on her schedule together.

        "There," he says.  "Weybridge.  She's showing houses all day."  He looks back down at you.  "It would be a shame if we interrupted her."  You exchange smiles as you rose up and grabbed your keys.

        "I can pick up a car from Mr. and Mrs. (Y/B/F/L/N)'s house so we don't waste money on a taxi."

        "Alright."

        Twenty minutes later, you find yourself en route to Weybridge.  Tom is using his laptop to locate Emily's location using the GPA of her cell phone.

        "Tom?"

        "Yes?"

        "Did you always think it would come to this?"  He turns to you.

        "What do you mean?"

        "When we were younger, didn't you think you would grow up, find someone, fall in love, get married, start a family, and it would be that simple?"

        "When I was younger, I was deep in multivariable calculus and forensics."  You glance at him before looking back to the road.

        "Touché.  I keep forgetting."  He looks at you.

        "Explain."  You come to a red light, so you stop.  You turn to him.

        "Explain what?"  

        "You 'keep forgetting.'"

        "I think you and I both know what that means."

        "Then for the sake of clarity, just say it."  You shake your head.  The light turns green, and you ease on the gas pedal.   "Fine, then I'll say it."

        "Don't you dare."

        "But it's true."

        "Not with us, and you know it."  He keeps quiet.  "Maybe it's because I understand you, maybe it's because I know you're more than what people label you, but maybe I keep forgetting because maybe you're getting better."

        That's because I feel okay when I'm with you, Tom thinks to himself but doesn't dare to repeat aloud.  He turns to the window and reflects on the changing scenery as you drive through different towns.

        A half hour later, you pull into an gated, but unlocked, circular brick driveway and park behind three other cars.  You turn off the ignition, but don't unstrap your seatbelt.

        "(Y/N)?" he asks, confused as he slowly unstrap his seatbelt.

        "I don't think I should go in."  He gets out the car and goes over to your side.  Opening the door, he offers his hand.

        "You're my partner.  We do this together, and call me a crazy sociopath, but I'm not going in without you."  You both smile as you unbuckle your seatbelt and take his hand, he helping you up.  Once you go inside, you both hear footsteps and a uptight voice talking about multiple walk-in closets.  You two wait in the lounge until the blonde comes downstairs, followed by eight other people.  When they turn the corner from the steps, they spot you two immediately.  The estate agent, previously conversing about the views, is astonished.

        "May I help you?" Emily says, kindly but noticeably shocked, embarrassed, and upstaged.

        "Yes, about the views," Tom says, bouncing up.  "I would like to discuss the one that we couldn't get on the security camera."  He turns to the prospective buyers.  "I wouldn't trust these things.  I peronsally would get replacements."

        "Excuse me, but I have to ask you to leave!"

        "But you know," you continue, jumping in, "these cameras, I'm sure Miss Duncan has showed you, oscilate and track motion.  It's great for catching a robbery."

        "Sometimes, even murder.  Have any other housewarming tips?"  He looks straight at Emily, who starts to run.  Trained for this, you chase after her, eventually leading to a cliff.  She stops, and turns around to face you, her cheeks glossy from tears.

        "Emily, I understand.  You loved him."

        "She already had everything she wanted.  She didn't even love him like I did.  She took him away from me!"

        "I'm sure we can talk about this.  Maybe we can get you parole."  She backs up, shaking her head.  Rocks and pebbles start to crumble as she nears the edge.  Emily turns around and, after seeing the ten story drop, regains her footing.  She looks back at you.

        "Please.  Don't do this."  With a hopeless look, her back turns to you and she jumps.  You go to grab her, but her jacket slips between your fingers.  You can't bear to look, hearing the thud echo upwards.

        "(Y/N)!" you hear.  You turn around, and Tom is running to you.  You start to walk towards him, and by your frown, he can tell what occured.

        "You tried," he said, holding your shoulders and looking in your eyes.  "It's not your fault."

        "She confessed to Elizabeth," you whisper softly to him.  With a gentle, shaky finger, he touches the bottom of your eyelid, catching the tears before they streaked your face.

        "Of course."  You tilt your head, confused.

        "How would you know?  You weren't even here."

        "Because it's easy to talk to you."  Tom reaches into his pocket.  He cups your hands with one of his large ones and places something cold and metal into it.  You look, and it's a watch.

        "She had it in her purse," he says.  You look at the time, and then at your watch.  6:13 and 13:06.  The same, but different, just like the two women.

        A warm hand comes onto your shoulder, and it leads you back to the car.  Sluggishly, you buckle in and turn on the ignition.

        "Four."  You don't even turn to meet his eyes, which you knew were staring back at you.

        "Four?"

        "Four.  Four days.  Normally I finish within a day, sometimes within minutes, but we spent four days on this case."

        "Does this mean you want me to leave."

        "No."

        "Then why even mention it?"  With a steady hand, he slowly turns your cheek, making you stare right into his emerald eyes.

        "Because now I have an average to compare.  I didn't want to underestimate nor overestimate your work.  And really, we didn't work one of those days, so three is your stepping stone."

        "Regardless, if you can do it faster, then why have me?"

        "Frankly, I enjoy the company."  He drops his hand and looks out the window.  Speechless, you put the car in reverse and back out the driveway.

        "And (Y/N)?"

        "Yes?"

        "For the record, even if were to combine my thirty-four years with your twenty-three, things still wouldn't be as simple as it should."