CHLOE

He turns, his face covered in blood… no, that's not blood. He turns, his whole head… scalded by something? No, no way. People do not stand tall after they get scalded that badly. So it's all true. But how can it be? And then he – it – speaks.

"Detective?"

There's no pain in that voice. At least, no oh-my-god-my-whole-face-is-all-scorched pain. So, it's all true. Wow, she's said it aloud. Twice now. She staggers back, almost tripping over the stairs, and shifts her gaze for a second, no, even less than that, just enough to keep her from falling. There's a whoosh – and a groan? – and when she looks up again, the creature is no longer there.

Wow. She sits on the staircase and looks around. Pierce's men are gone, all but one dead body. Pierce himself is lying motionless on the floor… wait, is that one of Maze's blades in his chest? How did it get there? And where did all these feathers come from? She feels she knows the answer to the last question. It's somewhere in her head, it's on the tip of her tongue… but what is it? Her head is spinning. What's this sound now? Oh, right. The phone. She takes it out.

"What's going on?"

Dan's voice brings her out of the haze and into the reality.

"Pierce is dead. It's over. I need a CSI unit here."

"Are you OK?"

Wrong question, Dan.

"Chloe?"

"Yes, I'm fine. It's just... Sorry, I have to go."

She puts the phone on the stairs and takes three deep breaths: one, two, three. She looks at Pierce's body again. Maze's blade. What the hell?

Hell. That's when it strikes her. Her mind's racing, her heart's pounding. Deep breaths. One, two, three. She's not ready to deal with existential and ontological questions. Not now. Baby steps, right? One, two, three.

She hears voices outside. The CSI unit are here. What's she going to say? We came inside, then they started shooting, then we were on the roof, then I was alone, then Pierce was dead, and then… and now I'm here with two dead bodies, all the feathers and no partner. Great story, Detective. Now tell it so that they don't think you've gone crazy from all the shock. No, wait. That's not a bad option. She needs time. So, ambushed, betrayed, nearly killed, traumatized, clueless, and therefore, speechless. All true, by the way. All true. It's all true.

And honestly, it's not that sudden. She has known since... well, at least since she opened her eyes on the roof. It's just that she expected the wings - yes, that's it! that would explain the feathers, among other things - and not the face. But he never claimed to be an angel, right? What was that thing she said to him just before they entered the damn building? "No more devil talk"? Funny. Ha. Really funny. And really mature of him to just… leave. She feels a familiar surge of exasperation and clings to it. He'd better not be in Vegas. That's it. He'd better not. The rest is... well, the rest is, apparently, negotiable.

"He saved me", she hears herself say half an hour later. "I don't know how, but he saved me. When I got back here, he was already gone. No, I haven't tried to contact him".

But I totally should, she thinks.