Shaun Mars was safe, the Origami Killer brought to justice at the jaws of a waste crusher, and FBI agent Norman Jayden hadn't been able to sleep for three days straight. Pills proved hopelessly ineffective at fixing this problem. Norman felt himself fading from reality at an alarming rate.

His flight back to Washington D.C. left tomorrow, but he wasn't sure he could keep it together until then. Norman's brain was wired up on triptocaine most of the time, and as a result of severe exhaustion the hallucinations shifted into their highest gear, causing him to act jumpy and suspicious of everything. It didn't help that the national media was trying mercilessly to scavenge what little remained of his fried mind like goddamn vultures.

Currently he resembled a well-to-do homeless guy, sitting on a park bench in the rain wearing a disheveled suit.

"Agent Jayden?" someone inquired. He opened his eyes. A woman stood there whom he recognized from that other lifetime last week.

"Ms. Paige, isn't it?"

She smiled. "Got it in one, Mr. Profiler, but please call me Madison. After what we've all been through I think we are way beyond formality."

"Fair enough," he shrugged. "Then I might as well be just Norman."

Madison took that as an invitation to sit down beside him on the bench. After a while, she sighed. "Can't sleep either, huh?"

"Is it obvious?"

"I'm afraid so. But I can spot another insomniac from miles away, so you never had much chance of going unnoticed by me."

"And are you here as a concerned citizen or snooping journalist?" Norman snapped. She recoiled slightly. Damn, he hadn't meant for that to sound so rude. He really must be losing his fucking mind. "Look, I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay. I understand." Madison forced a smile. "It's hasn't been easy for me either. I have to work with those people. Hell, I was one of them; when I first started helping Ethan I just wanted a story. Can you believe that's all I was after?"

He could believe it. Everyone had a motive, didn't they? Personally, he wanted to prove to himself that the ends justified the means, and that even if his brain melted it would be worth it as long as this one little boy didn't become another victim.

"Shaun is getting released from the hospital pretty soon." she went on. "The doctors say he's doing much better than they expected, physically and mentally. He doesn't remember much of what happened. I can't say I blame him for blocking out something like that. I kind of wish I could do the same, actually."

"Why are you telling me all this?" Norman asked.

"I thought you'd want to know."

He wanted so much to forget, too. God, he really did. But the only way he knew how would involve massive quantities of tripto filling him up with fuzzy cotton balls, gently shutting down his brain, and Norman wasn't one to overdose on a hotel room floor like some tragic rock star. At least not right now anyway. Right now he planned to board a plane tomorrow, fall asleep in his own bed, then wake up and go to work.

"I'm glad everyone is all right."

"Are you all right, Norman?" Madison asked.

Yeah, he was all right. He had been worse than this before, yet each time somehow managed to claw his way back from rock bottom with logic and persistence. Just a little rest and he'd be fine. Well, that plus some triptocaine. Then Norman would be over the fucking moon. Yeah...

"I'm absolutely grand." he said, smiling somewhat unsettlingly.