A/N: Thank you for those not only reading this story, but more so for those that are leaving reviews! You've all probably heard it before but it's true; a writer does enjoy responses. Anyway, unto the story!

Disclaimer: I own... well, I don't own the Russos that's for sure.

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They insisted on following me. Alex -- despite her evil mind -- was already emotionally invested in helping me find Dianna's little girl. And Dianna? Well, it's bad enough that her maternal instinct was burning, but add in the fact that she's--

"Where are we going?" Alex interrupted my thoughts, causing yours truly to roll my eyes.

One day I will finish that damn monologue.

The twinkling of the city lights loomed around us. Over my shoulder I tossed my little sister a shrug. "I have to talk to a friend. You, my favorite miscreant, are merely following me despite the fact that I told you to go back to Max's so that I can handle this."

Alex Russo was at her best when she was fuming. With sass, she strode up to equal my pacing and shoulder butt me. Hissing, "You need me, Justin 'thinks he's such a badass because he's the family wizard' Russo." Her eyes sparkled with conviction. The light in her eyes definitely matched the glow of the diamond choker.

I glanced back at Dianna, who despite the cool air, was clutching onto the coat in her hands like a lifesaver.

Gently, I grasped Alex's arm and quickened pace. I lowered my voice, "There's something you need to understand, Al."

Surprised by my sudden urgency, she quirked her brow, "What is it?"

"It's Dianna. And her daughter… we might not--" I hissed, only to be interrupted by a slight moaning echoing from an alley across the street from us.

"Russo? Russo… is that you?"

I sighed and released my hold on Alex. I nodded at Dianna, "Watch her, will you? I need to have a word with Gregory…"

So, here's the thing: Gregory used to be an accountant for a local "family run" business in Little Italy. Gregory also used to be married to the niece of the manager of said local "family run" business in Little Italy. And Gregory used to be able-bodied and with a 20/20 vision.

An accident changed all that within a blink of an eye… Heh. Pardon the-- well, you'll see in a moment.

So, there was an accident. An accident involving a vengeful sprite looking to claim what was taken (bullied, muscled out, insert whatever mafia cliché here) from him by the manager of "family run" business in Little Italy.

An accident that had Gregory and his wife (wrong place, wrong time) caught in the crossfire (or in this case, Mist-Fire; a potent gas bomb that causes its victims' organs to wilt from the inside).

And unfortunately, I was hired to help clean up the mess… Literally… Oh God, literally. Zombie massacres have nothing on the after effect of a Mist-Fire raid. Thank the gods that its rare and that government mortals never heard of this deadly weapon.

When all was said and done (and cleansed, and mind-swiped, and covered as deep as Watergate), Gregory can now be found lounging around various tenements in Alphabet City.

And when I mean "lounging," I mean sitting his -- sometimes (translation: every other day) drunk -- ass against the wall, panhandling for money and pity.

Poor Gregory. In all honesty, he had the looks of that Affleck guy… if a bucket of acid had been thrown on his Hollywood frame and he was reeking of Chanel Ode the Vomit.

"Russo?"

I regarded him with the same amount of pity I gave him years ago. "Gregory, you're looking… well."

He looked like your average homeless bum. Rags for clothing. A shopping cart and empty, torn boxes for shelter. A cup to panhandle pity money from the working class citizens of New York. Even a worn cardboard sign that said "Blind and Homeless. Will you spare a few?"

And yet, despite his sorry state, if Gregory tilted his head up and smiled, the average normal human would have backtracked in a state of shock. Why? Because for someone that looked like he'd been through the wasteland and back again, his grin glistened like Alice's Chesire Cat; white, wide, and bright!

Which is what he had done so upon my acknowledging him.

"Huh. So she's found you." he said. Gregory reached his hand out, trying to seek his cane so that he could stand in my company. Homeless he may be, but Gregory never forgot to be a gentleman.

I nodded despite his handicap. He took my pause to translate it as such.

"She's not intruding in the middle of a job, huh Russo?"

I shook my head, "Nope." I reached down and cupped his elbow, helping to steady him on his feet.

"You pissed."

"Uh… more or less agitated."

Gregory removed his shades so that he could clean it with his filthy rags. Yes, the irony isn't lost on me. Neither is the chill that flew down my spine as I regarded his empty eye sockets as they stared at me. He cast a shrug my way before placing his sunglasses back on. "Them's not knowing never stopped you before."

"True…" I sighed, "But there's a child involved."

Gregory nodded. Then hacked a spit before adding, "That's why I sent her to you and not, say, someone like Astor Volnay."

I bit my lip and nodded in understanding.

Astor Volnay. Fuck me. I hadn't heard that name in ages. I voiced my opinion as such.

"Well, you're not exactly his favorite person either, Russo." Gregory chuckled before hacking another spit.

I smirked and crossed my arms, "Bastard hasn't forgiven me for Zsa Zsa."

Gregory grinned, "She was his favorite hellhound…" He then shook his head, "But no, I'm afraid that's not why Astor doesn't favor you."

I quirked a brow at that, "Should I even ask?"

He looked down, his cane slightly tapping at the concrete. After pondering a good second or so, Gregory gazed back up at me and said, "You've come to talk about the girl, not our favorite specter importing psychopath."

I glanced back at Alex and Dianna. The girls were standing across the street, patiently awaiting for my next move. From Dianna's gaze, I could tell that she's concerned about what Gregory and I have to talk about. Alex, for all her impatient tendencies, was surprisingly gentle in her calming of Dianna's anxiety.

"It could take days, hell even weeks, before the Realization." I sighed before turning back to face Gregory. Grimly, "The thing is, there's an actual child involved. What if her daughter doesn't have that much time? Or worse? What if--"

Gregory grinned at me again. Gods help me, but I don't know which is more horrible; his smile or his eye-less stare.

"You know your options, Russo. You can either take the girl to one of New York's finest psychics--" His sarcasm was interrupted by a dangerous series of coughs and hacking. A bit concerned for him, I gave his back a big smack. "Oh! Oh, thank you… What? Right. Or you can take her to see Astor and see if he's willing to help out of the kindness of his, uh, ahem… heart."

I rolled my eyes. "Basically I'm stuck between a rock and the Great Wall of China."

Gregory laughed. "Oh Russo, your wit will get you killed."

"That's what I've been told." I muttered, running a tired hand through my hair. "Fuck. Well, seeing Astor just yet is out of the question. Dianna barely remembered her name, not to mention her daughter's… I have to find another source that could possibly help--"

Gregory wobbled a bit in his stance before finally deciding to sit back down. He tilted his head up at me, indicating that he's still listening. With a weary smile, "What kind of P.I. are you? Don't you got a brother who's connected?"

I blinked. Max? "Max?"

Gregory blew his nose. I grimaced at the crap hanging down his face. He nodded, "Yeah. The talker. He's connected, right?"

I shook my head. Technically he was, but as far as I know Max's connections (both mortal and non-mortal, a.k.a. magical) weren't as notoriously known. One whiff of Max still keeping ties in the magical community (present familia company excluded) and you can be sure as hell that the Counsel will descend all hell upon his life! I said as much to Gregory.

To my surprise, Gregory grinned. "That's not what I've been hearing…"

I scowled at that comment. "What is that supposed to mean?"

He held his hands out, "I am just an old fool that hears and sees things no mere mortal should ever partake in."

My scowl deepened. "You're my age, Gregory. And you're not a mortal."

"Anymore." He sighed before reaching into his raggedy clothes to unearth a whiskey bottle. As I watched him tank practically the whole drink, I had gotten the sense that he wasn't going to elaborate on the comment about my brother.

I shook my head and refrained a sigh of my own. Without thought, I reached for my wallet and tossed him a few bucks. "Don't spend it all at once."

He held up his bottle, "You're a good man, Russo."

I gave a backhanded wave as I turned coat and took a step off the curb.

"Beautiful…" I heard him sigh. "Real beauty, that one is."

I didn't bother to ask nor wonder what he started going on about. Why should I? I got whatever necessary information I needed. I had to move on.

Though I did find it odd that when I did take note of his ramblings (from the moment I stepped onto the opposite street curb to join Alex and Dianna), I became troubled by the words that were spewed so drunkenly, yet pierced so clearly like a bell.

"She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes.
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies."