"This is important, Ms. Buckley. This is a homicide investigation. We need to find your son," Angell told her matter-of-factly.
She handed the photo back to Danny. "Pretty girl."
"She was murdered near the Hudson. Her mom's pretty broken up about it. I need to find the person who did this to her little girl. She needs closure," Danny told her, pleading in his eyes.
The woman nodded, taking another puff of her cigarette. "I don't know Bucky's friends. He's 21--ya know? What can you do? A kid like him wants to go out and stay at all hours, I can't control him. He's a grown man as far as the courts are concerned. All I can do is pray that he comes home. And if he doesn't--wait twenty four hours--and call the police. I don't have any say in what my own kid does anymore."
"So you don't know Chloe Phillips--are you sure?" Danny asked.
The woman shook her head. "Not a Chloe Phillips. Sorry."
"How 'bout Alice Langston? Know her?" Danny asked, his accent thick as he spoke.
Angell waited for the woman to resond. She looked thoughtful for a moment, but nothing.
"Alright. Any idea where your son might be? Got a job? A hang-out he likes? I'm sure you know something... Com'n. Me and Danny, here? We're not the bad guys," Angell spoke softly.
The woman's eyes glossed over for a moment. She might not have known where her son was exactly, but she had an inkling and it made her feel terrible to be the one that was about to turn him in to the NYPD. She moved the cigarette around for a moment, causing the smoke to trail behind it.
"I know a place. He likes to hang out there--good food. He worked there when he was in high school. The owner's name is Maurice; it's on 17th. He likes Bucky. Let's him crash there sometimes. Like a dad, I guess in some ways. Looks out for him. He might be there. I'm not certain, but he might be. And if he's not there... I can't help you any further," the woman told them, seriously.
"Thanks. This is a start," Danny told her.
Angell wasn't so sure the woman was telling them everything she knew. She told Danny this when they entered the elevator.
"Would you rat out your kid?" Danny asked.
"I guess not. But still, this is a homicide investigation. I mean, it's against the law to keep things from the cops that might be crucial in a case," Angell reminded him.
Danny chuckled. "I went through the Academy. I know."
"You think the kid's at the shop?" Angell asked, feeling like she had on the ride up.
"Let's hope so."
"You gonna talk to her girlfriend's today?" Angell asked.
"I'm gonna take Lindsay with me for that. She's gotta face her fears sooner or later," Danny answered.
Angell nodded in agreement. She dropped the subject of Lindsay Monroe and she let the feelings in the pit of her stomach drop with it. Danny was off-limits to her. At one time she had thought maybe there was a possiblity that they might be more than just friends, but he had seemed lost at that time, too. That had been when Lindsay had left for a few weeks to testify in Montana. While Angell had felt the attraction and known that they had grown closer over the weeks, because they had worked a few cases together, it still didn't ease her mind any. She hadn't wanted to take advantage of the situation. She didn't want to be the woman who kept him from being with Lindsay. She wanted him to want her back, not just want a good time. And that would have been all their time together would have been, in the end, just a one-night-stand.
The ding of the elevator cut into Angell's swirling thoughts. They had not spoken, and that had been ok. She stepped out of the elevator and followed Danny toward the front door. She would just have to keep things to herself. There was always a place and time to tell a man how she felt and Angell knew that moment was not now.

She turned and headed down the hall toward the apartment that Sean Buckley lived in. Danny pushed the door back before it closed in on him. He made his way down the hall, catching up to Angell within seconds.
"You want me to put in a good word for ya?" Danny asked, with a slight chuckle.
Angell stopped infront of 43C. She turned to Danny. "You want me to put in a good word for you to Flack?" she grinned.
"Got it," Danny nodded. "You want me."
"I told ya to get over yourself, Messer." Angell leaned over and knocked on the door. She turned back to Danny and winked.
Danny grinned back. He couldn't return a quip of his own, because the door creaked open and a woman stared out at the two of them, holding a cigarette in her mouth; it wasn't lit. Danny noted that she had a lighter in her hand.
"Can I help you?" she asked, chewing a little on the end of her cigarette as she spoke.
Angell smiled pleasantly at the woman who might have been an attractive at one time in her life. Now, she was anything but.
Her eyes which appeared to be blue were dulled by years of disappointment, along with age lines around her mouth which smoking only made worse. Her thinning light brown hair was swept up into a messy clip, her frame was small, and she looked like she hadn't eaten in days.
An addict?
Angell wondered exactly that as she glanced over to Danny, who must of been wondering the same thing, because he was eyeing the woman suspiciously behind his glasses. But they were there for something else. They were there to find Sean Buckley. One perp at a time.
"Yeah. Do you know--uh--Sean Buckley?" Danny asked.
"He's my son. What's Bucky done now?" the woman asked.
Danny glanced over at Angell with a grin. She returned one of her own. They never had to say anything--they just understood each other's body language. It was a Brooklyn thing, they figured they'd tell anyone if they ever asked.
"Bucky?"
"Sean's nick-name. His dad gave it to him," the woman reach up and lit her cigarette. She took a long draw. "Bastard. Only thing he ever gave me that was worth anything was Bucky."
"Well, have you seen Bucky today, Ms. Buckley?" Angell asked.
The older woman reguarded the younger woman for a moment. Probably sizing her up. Most women didn't mess with Jennifer Angell. She could be sweet as pie when she wanted to be and ruthless when she needed to be. Danny waited for the claws to come out.
"I haven't seen my kid, ma'am."
"Detective Angell. Please." Angell pulled her badge around for the woman to see.
The woman glanced over at Danny, a questioning look in her eyes.
"This is Detective Messer, CSI," Angell explained, solemnly.
Danny nodded with a smile as way of a greeting. The woman smiled back, seeing his rugged good looks for the first time. She leaned against the door facing.
"What do you want with my son?" she asked, eyeing Danny as she took another puff.
"You know his girlfriend?" Danny asked, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a picture of Chloe Phillips. He handed it to the woman.
She gasped, but said nothing.

Danny and Angell stood on the elevator, feeling the sway of the old car as it moved upward to the third floor. It was old: most likely unreliable, not the safest ride in the city, and creaked like mad. It made an uneasy feeling drift through Angell, starting in her stomach and moving slowly to reach every other organ in it's path. She grimmaced, more for her own comfort, then looked around at Danny and smiled weakly. The two of them were at eye level, standing only inches apart. It felt nice.
"So, you and Monroe are working this?" she asked.
Danny was taken aback. Angell usually didn't get too personal when they worked together. "Whoa. When did you start caring who I work with?"
"I don't. I just thought--"
"You just thought what?" Danny asked, cocking an eye brow up, trying to intimidate Angell, but there was no way of doing that. No one intimidated her.
Angell smiled slow and sweet like she always did, her perfect lips arching outward and making her even more prettier than she had been only moments before.
"Oh, I get it. Monroe's off limits for us to talk about."
"No. I mean, you can talk about whoever you choose, Jen. I just choose not to talk back," Danny corrected.
Angell nodded. "She ok?"
"She's ok."
"Ok."
Danny sighed heavily. "What now?"
"What? I was just askin', Danny. It's not like I wanna marry you."
Danny tilted his head to the side with a smirk. "You think about that?"
"No! I work. I don't think about marriage." Angell waved her hands out infront of her as if this gave her words more meaning.
Danny chuckled.
"What?" Angell asked. Danny shook his head. "What is it, Danny? Tell me."
"You ever think you might be missin' out on somethin'?" he asked.
Angell shrugged. "Sometimes, I guess. You?"
"I think I would if the right girl came along."
"Lindsay not the right girl?" Angell asked, taking mental note of what he had just said.
Danny realized she had caught it and wiggled his head a bit. "I--I couldn't tell ya that. She's got issues."
"Issues are fun," Angell said sarcastically.
Danny nodded as he pushed his hand through his dirty blond hair. "You on the market, though?"
"You askin'?" Angell winked.
Danny blushed. "You're beautiful and definitely my type..."
"But?"
"But I have a girl with issues, alright," Danny smiled.
Angell nodded. She knew what he meant.
"I don't know. I was thinkin' you might be able to get a date out of Flack--or something," Danny told her slowly.
The bell dinged and he doors slid open. Danny hesitated. Angell stepped through the door. She stopped and turned back to the young CSI.
"You comin'?" she smiled.
"You ain't gonna beat me up?" Danny asked, seriously.
Angell tilted her head to the side. "Get over yourself, Messer. I don't put that much thought into your sorry ass. Sorry to disappoint ya."

"How ya doin'?" Danny asked, his accent thicker than it usually was.
"What ya need?" the older man asked, without looking up from a small TV set.
Danny smiled at Angell, who smiled back. He was not going to cooperative.
"I'm looking for this kid. He live here?" Danny asked, pulling out a picture of Sean Buckley.
The security guard looked up from his TV set. He frowned, then turned back to the TV.
Danny snickered beneath his breath as he glanced over at Angell. Angell stepped forward and took the picture from him. She pulled her badge out and held it up to the window. The man looked up then.
"My friend here asked you a question, Sir. Do you mind doing me a favor and answerin' him?" Angell asked.
The man stared at the picture for a moment. "I know him. He lives in 45C. He's a smart-ass."
Angell grinned at him. "Thanks."
"That all?" the man asked, eyeing Angell for a moment.
Perv, Danny thought as he watched the man's eyes move over Angell's body, probably undressing her in his mind.
"Your cooperation is greatly appreciated. You did your good samaritan deed for the day," Angell assured him as she put her badge back on her belt.
She turned to Danny. "That's how we do it in Brooklyn, Danny-Boy."
Danny mocked her for a moment, then laughed sarcastically as he took the picture back from her. Angell ignored him, grabbing his arm and tugging him along. She knew he didn't like it when a woman showed him up, but it was just so much fun to do. After all, who didn't Love making Danny Messer squirm? It was just too damn easy!

* * *
Detective Jennifer Angell met Danny at the corner of West 25th Street.
She gave him a cool smile like she did to most men she worked with. While the two of them got along famously and usually worked out their cases along the same lines, she didn't let her guard down even with him.
"Angell," Danny spoke, holding a smaller version of his regular kit in his hand.
"Danny," Angell said back.
She was dressed in a black leather jacket over a crimson colored top with dark-washed boot-cut jeans and black high-heeled boots. Her long black hair was curled down her back in lushious waves. Angell was not your normal looking NYPD Homicide Detective and most people would probably not even know she was a Detective if she didn't have her badge on her belt and a gun on her hip, poking out beneath her jacket.
Beside her, Danny looked nothing like a CSI, either. He wore a light blue colored button down shirt, which matched his baby blue eyes to a T, dog tags, a pair of dark jeans which were a little baggy on him through the legs and were being held up by a leather belt that looked as if it had seen better days, which also held his badge in place. He held his gun on his hip and wore a pair of chocolate brown colored boots.
"Did you get the address from Flack?" Angell asked as she fell into step beside Danny.
"Yeah. It's right up here," Danny pointed as he led the way through the crowded street.
They walked the rest of the way in silence. Angell had already gotten most of the details of the case from Flack when he had faxed her the case file on it, but she didn't have to know much more than what he had sent to her, to know that this was a gruesome murder and the perp needed to be caught. She could see in Danny's eyes that he was determined to capture him and she was content in being at his side when he did so.
They came upon an older looking apartment building. There was no door man, so they knew this was not a ritzy place. The building was dark. And seemed to grow darker with each step the two of them took inside. Danny stepped over to the security guard who set behind a glass window.

CH 5

Flack came into the lab where Danny was testing the branches that had been taken from the park. He set the file folder in his hand down on the table. Danny looked up from the magnifying glass he was studying the pieces under. He had his glasses tucked high on his head, and his blue eyes were shining mysteviously.
"What's up?" he asked.
Flack pointed to the file. "Found our vic's boyfriend. He's pretty well on the up-and-up, just a few parking tickets and petty theft when he was in Junior High."
Danny pushed his glasses down as he opened the folder to read through the information. "Sounds like our boy here likes to park in the handicapped spots," he smirked. "And steal CD's?"
"That's not all. He's big on fake ID's, too. Probably even owns his own laminating machine."
Danny chuckled. "Bet his buddies owe him big, huh?"
"Yep. And you have a pretty girlfriend like Chloe Phillips on your arm. Could get an itch to steal more than just CD's," Flack smiled, coyly.
"Might even cause a guy to get greedy. Wanna get rid of someone so he can have the money for himself..." Danny agreed.
"You think the boyfriend is the guy?"
Danny shrugged. "I dunno. We need to speak with him. Lindsay got called out with Hawkes. Can you come with me?"
Flack paused. "I can't. I have some loose ends to tie up on Stella's case. Sorry." He looked up, cocking an eye brow up. "Maybe you should take Angell with you."
Jennifer Angell was another NYPD Detective that worked with the CSI team. She was young and pretty; Brooklyn-born-and raised, like Danny. She had street smarts and wasn't afraid to tell anyone off if she felt like it. Danny liked her alright. She was a no-nonsense sort of girl and could hold her own when it came to men. She reminded Danny of an old friend of his that he missed very much and sometimes that did hurt him, looking at Angell and thinking about Aiden. But he liked to work cases with Angell because got the job done. If he couldn't take Lindsay with him, he couldn't think of any other girl he'd want by his side than Detective Angell.
"Yeah. I guess I could." Danny turned back to the samples lay out on the table.
"You found anything yet?" Flack asked, eyeing him for a moment.
"Nothing specific. I mean, it's just trial and error at this point. I can have Adam deal with this, if need be. He's pretty good at sorting these puzzles out, ya know. My main priority is to talk to this Sean Buckley kid," Danny answered softly.
"What about the friends?" Flack asked.
"I'll deal with them later." Danny shut the magnifier off and turned to the Detective. "Angell got her cell?"

P.S.

how sweet was danny with that mom?

"...Do you have any kids?"
Danny shook his head.
"Too bad. You seem like the kind of man who would make a wonderful father."
"Someday," Danny agreed.
"Yeah. Someday." Renee resisted the urge to cry again. "God gives them. And God takes them away. I think..." Her eyes glossed over. "Alice is in Heaven. She was my Angel. And this way, she'll always be an Angel."

that above scene is so beautiful, i think.
remember in chapter 1 when danny thinks of chloe phillips as a fallen angel? yeah... it just seemed fitting to me that renee would refer to her daughter as an angel, also.

COMMENTS WELCOME

did ya'll enjoy chapter 4???

what about when abby locks all those locks? crazy, right?
she has issues.
but not like lindsay.
she doesn't put life on hold just because she had something really tragic happen to her when she was younger.

anyway, i hope that ya'll are enjoying my story.

i actually finished the story a few days ago, but have been slow with my posting.
i know.
i know.
i procrastinate like a bunny. ;)

--mandy--

"Did Alice have a boyfriend?" Danny asked, as he pulled out a clean sheet of paper from the file.
"Sean. His, uh, name is Sean Buckley. You don't think..."
"We just have to rule him out. Ok?" Danny jotted the name down. "Any close friends?"
"Yeah. Alice had a lot of friends, but she had three best friends that moved down here with us, when we left Boston. Michelle Lehman, Ashley DuGray, and Kris Whitmore. They grew up together." Renee's eyes darkened suddenly. "Oh, God! I didn't call them. I don't want them to find out from the news. Can I go now? I have a lot of stuff that needs to be taken care of." She stood up to leave.
Danny nodded. "Of course." He stood. "We have your number. I'll call ya if we need to ask you anymore questions."
"Thank you, Danny." Renee stopped at the door. "She was my baby. I would have given my life for her. Do you have any kids?"
Danny shook his head.
"Too bad. You seem like the kind of man who would make a wonderful father."
"Someday," Danny agreed.
"Yeah. Someday." Renee resisted the urge to cry again. "God gives them. And God takes them away. I think..." Her eyes glossed over. "Alice is in Heaven. She was my Angel. And this way, she'll always be an Angel."
Renee was smiling through her tears, but Danny knew it hurt her to come to this realization. She would never see her daughter again. She knew that. Deep down in her heart, she knew that she was still alive and her baby daughter was dead. She just had to hold onto the hope that her death was something that God willed for her. If she didn't believe in that, then she would surely go crazy. But Danny didn't have any answers for her at the moment. Things were not answered for him as it was. He couldn't tell her what she longed to hear. That the person who killed her kid would never do it again. He wasn't sure about that yet. The prospect of the perp killing again was still high, because they had very little to go on. But he knew, at that very moment, that he would not forget the look in this woman's eyes. The desperation she let shine through. She wanted answers, and if Danny had to chase the man himself, without Flack, Lindsay, or anyone else at his side, he would catch the bastard who had murdered Renee Langston's beloved daughter.
Renee smiled one last time at Danny, reguarding him as she would any casual aquaintance. She said nothing more and Danny decided it would be best if he didn't speak, either. She left the interogation room, leaving Danny with only his determination to solve this murder and the anger toward the coward who had committed the crime, boiling over inside of him.

Danny stepped into the interogation room, closing the door behind him. "Ms. Phillips, I'm Detective Messer. I'm here to speak to you about your daughter."
"Langston. My last name is Langston," the woman sniffled.
Danny glanced at the file in his hand. "So it is." He grinned at her. "I apologize."
"That's ok, Detective. I... uh... I know it's an honest mistake. Alice used a stage-name," the woman answered as she took a napkin from her bag.
"Chloe's real name is Alice?" Danny asked as he took a seat.
"Yeah." The woman blew her nose, rather loudly. "She liked the meaning of it. It was Greek; meant flowering. She always thought of herself as a flower, you know? She wanted to blossom one day, be a huge star. Be famous and use it to help others. Alice was a good girl, Detective. She was..." Her voice broke off, but Danny noticed there was a faint smile over her face as she remembered her little girl as she had once been.
Danny nodded, slowly. He readjusted his glasses as he licked at his lips. An unconcious habit on his part. "Ms. Langston--"
"Please, call me Renee. I'm not an old woman, Detective."
"Ok. Renee, then you can call me Danny, if you like," he told her.
Renee nodded as she wiped at her nose again.
"Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt Alice?" Danny asked, slowly.
Renee scratched her eye brow. "I don't know. A couple girls at her old high school were jealous of her because she got that part in a commercial for American Eagle. But..." she tilted her head to the side for a moment. "For the most part, everyone Loved Alice. She just--She had a good heart... Danny... And..."
"It's hard, I know." Danny reach over and took a hold of Renee's hand that rested on the table top.
"Thank you," Renee smiled, her voice soft and even, but still holding some emotion behind it.
Danny took his hand away. "I need to know if Alice was into drugs or anything of that nature."
Renee looked up. "No. I mean, teenagers experiment, right?"
Danny nodded.
"Alice was a responsible kid, though. I don't think she would have--"
"That's alright. Tox will tell us if anything was in her system," Danny assured her.
Renee nodded as she dabbed at her eyes. It was hard for her to hear that her daughter might have been doing drugs on the night that she was murdered, but Danny knew that it was better to give her a little light into what might have been going on instead of leaving her there in the dark. That was just the way Danny's mind worked. He didn't want to be a liar. Not even a half-ass one.

* * *

Lindsay stood outside of the interogation room.
A woman who appeared to be around forty and bore a striking resemblence to the murdered girl, set at the desk. Her eyes were red-rimmed from where she had been crying for past fifteen minutes she had been sitting there, alone.
"You ok, Montana?" Danny asked, touching her shoulder lightly from behind.
Lindsay jumped, startled. "You scared me," she hit him in his stomach, playfully.
"Whoa! Sorry!" Danny grinned, putting his hands up in the air as if he were surrending. He turned to the window that Lindsay had been peering into. "Who's she?"
"Chloe Phillips' mom." Lindsay grimmaced. "Remember the last mom, Danny? I couldn't talk to her. I totally froze. I--Can't talk to her. She's sitting there, wanting answers. And I can't bring myself to go inside. I really wanna talk to her, Danny," she lifted her eyes to him. "I just--I try to go in there and... This is as far as I seem to get. Why can't I just go in there and tell her that her daughter was murdered?"
Danny smiled at Lindsay. It wasn't his usual smirk, bad-boy smile. It was his sweet, understanding one. The one that he only gave to Lindsay. She returned it with her own, but it was uncertainty he read over her face as she did so.
He reach over and took the file from Lindsay's hands. "I got it, Montana."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. Mom's are kinda my speciality," Danny winked.

"Hey, Pumpkin." Abby smiled at the cat on her doorstep. The cat purred. "Sorry about locking you out. Please do come in," she told the cat.
The small cat stalked into the apartment like she owned it. She was not Abby's cat, my any means, just a stray that she had found to be friendly so she let come in every once in a while. This relationship was strictly beneficial for the cat, though.
Abby would feed her tuna fish and milk and she would lay around on the window sill above the sink, lazily for an hour or so, soaking up the last remaining rays of the day, then she would tip-toe through the house, sit down infront of the door, and wait. Sometimes Abby would oblige quickly and let the cat out, bidding her good-bye. Other times, she would fight the urgency and just watch her. Observe her persistence. She would not faulter one bit as she set, her tail coiled around her backside, determined not to be a prisoner of this human's house. Abby would watch as the small cat, well fed and content with being only a customer and nothing more, would come over to the couch and nuzzle at her leg.
She could be a lover when she needed to be. She could be a fighter when the situation called for it. But for the most part, Pumpkin would not give up on her demands. When she wanted something, she would work very hard for it. The way the cat functioned, doing what she needed in order to get what she wanted, had reminded Abby of herself. She would get up after a while of letting the cat nuzzle at her leg and purr happily against her skin, and let her out. She would let her go back into her secret-world, leaving Abby alone like before. But that was the way Abby liked things--consistent.
After Abby went through the regular routine of the evening with Pumpkin, she relocked all of her locks and checked her messages. It was the first thing she usually did, but on this night, because of the excitement she had been feeling all day from the prospect of going to New York and seeing... Dare she say it outloud, it might not come true... But it was ok to think it, wasn't it? She was going to see Danny Messer. She was going to see him...
The first message was from her mom:
"Hey, Abby! It's Mom. Call me. Love you, Baby. Bye."
The second message was from her dad:
"Hey, Abby-Girl! It's Daddy. I just thought I'd call ya. Nothing's wrong. Miss ya. Love ya. Bye, Kiddo."
Third message:
"Sissy! Guess who! It's Gabe. I just wanted to congratulate you! Wow! New York--Really? Well, me and Madeleine are very happy for you. I did some work up there last summer and it was awesome, I know you'll Love it. Anyway. The baby is still growing--wish you could see Maddy's belly--it's huge," a chuckle. "Well, I'll talk to ya later. Love ya. Bye."
The last message was from Detective Mac Taylor from New York City:
"Ms. Donovan? My name is Mac Taylor. I am head of the CSI department in New York City. I am sure by now, you know that I am interested in having you come up here to work with my team. I contacted Horatio and he was supposed to speak with you. I hope you greatly consider coming here. And that you know this will be a wonderful opportunity for you. One I think you will not regret. Your services would be greatly appreciated by the department... And me. It's hard to find Criminal Profilers who have the kind of experience and recommendations that you carry with you. Anyway. Sorry, I missed you. I'll be gettng in touch with you before you leave. Have a wonderful day, now. Bye."
Abby smiled. She rewound the tape again and listened to the message from Mac two more times. It was reality now. This was real. Going to New York was real. Sure, it had been a nice thought all day, since Horatio had called into his office, but this set it in stone: hearing Mac say that he wanted her to come there. Hearing him say that he would benefit from her expertise. Hearing him say that she deserved this opportunity.
When it came time to go to bed, which was well past midnight, because Abby suffered miserably from insomnia, she fell asleep feeling happy and excited about what lay ahead for her in the next couple of weeks. For the first time, in a very long time, Abby Donovan slept like a baby.

CH 4

Abby unlocked her apartment door and stepped inside.
She turned, shut the door back, making sure to lock the door conventional door-lock, the sliding lock above the main door-lock that had been installed before she moved into the apartment, and the dead-bolt: the one she installed the same day she gave the super her deposit. She knew it was silly to be freightened, still--it had been so long since her sister had been murdered. But there was just something about the thought of a young woman living alone, even in Miami, where she had lived for most of her life, that made Abby feel very uneasy.
Abby put her bag down on the couch, throwing her jacket over the backside of it, and kicked off her shoes. She felt more comfortable barefoot; did her best work when she was barefooted. She stretched like a lazy cat would do on a warm summer day and padded through the apartment to find something to eat. It was odd, she mused as she opened the refridgerator door to find only day old pizza which would have to suffice for now, that she did not have to report to work in the morning.
Abby pulled the box out of the refridgerator. Two slices were left, she saw. Mental note: Do Not Eat Like A Starved Dog In New York City. Check. She decided to eat both peices, because there was no need in wasting them. She opened the cabinet over-head and got a paper plate. She was hungry, because she had not eated at break when she was supposed to have, but that was not reason enough to be uncivilized. She didn't bother heating the pizza; a habit she had acquired from years of eating-on-the-run. She set down at the small table, which held two chairs, but never saw two people at it. She began to eat the pizza, cold and hard, but good, because she didn't think about the way it tasted in her mouth as she took slow, even bites. She was thinking about other things at the moment. Things that were still out of reach, but a definte possibility.
After eating both slices of her cold pizza, and feeling full for the first time in quite a while, Abby grabbed a juice out of the refridgerator and headed back into the livingroom. As Abby was taking a long sip of her juice, letting the cool liquid go down, feeling completely heavenly as it did so, there was a scratching sound at the front door. Abby crossed the room and unlocked all the locks she had only just locked back, and peered down at an adorable orange and white striped tabby, who looked back up at her with the most intense blue eyes of any cat Abby had ever seen.