A/N: Ahh, it's been approximately forever since I last updated this, so hopefully I haven't lost all of my readers! Real life happened for awhile; had to move across the Atlantic, look for a job, unpack, all that good stuff. But I promise I am still working on this; the ending is all planned out and everything, so it's just a matter of getting it written. That said, I'm also participating in National Novel Writing Month during November, so I have no idea how that will impact how quickly this gets updated; either I'll be so ready for a break in writing for that that I'll manage to update fairly regularly or I'll be so sick of writing that updates will be pretty slow. We'll see, I guess! Thanks for sticking with me regardless! (Also, sorry this isn't the most exciting of chapters; it's mostly setting things up for the next chapter, so I'll make an effort to get the next one posted soon.)

Upstairs, Roxy stalked in circles around the small guestroom, hands clenched into fists to avoid the temptation of pulling her hair out in frustration. No matter which way she spun the facts around in her head, connections and explanations remained just out of reach, taunting her with the knowledge that she was missing something. First it was the three kids in the lab explosion, then the father and son, followed by the kid at the university, the two men in Portland, and finally the murder near Der Waffle Haus. Three kids at the lab, the father and son, the kid at the univer…

For the second time that evening, Roxy raced full-throttle down the stairs as the proverbial light bulb switched on over her head. She found George and Rube in much the same position she had left them in, only now they were chatting animatedly and George was gesturing wildly about something.

"The university!" Roxy interjected, huffing to catch her breath again.

Rube favored her with an approving smile as George leapt up to pull Roxy over to a chair.

"We were just talking about that! Brian, you know, the local natural causes head? He called and suggested we look into the robbery up on campus, since that one seems to have happened because the stupid kid interrupted the robbery, not because whoever our psycho-murderer is wanted someone dead."

Roxy shook her head. "That's not what I meant." She paused, and then started again. "Actually, that's a damn good point, but that wasn't what I was going to say." She stood and strode over to the fridge, pulling out her pie from earlier and returned to the table, mulling over her words as she did so. "All of these deaths have seemed pretty fucking random, right?"

Rube quirked an eyebrow while George slumped in her seat and grimly nodded. "And you're thinking they're not?" Rube asked rhetorically.

Roxy paused to chew her food and swallowed before continuing. "It's just… look, we think some mysterious man in black is involved somehow, right? And we also know the fucking gravelings are in on this somehow. Some deaths have seemed like legit accidents, which might be the work of the gravelings, while others are murders which couldn't have been done by the gravelings. But all of these deaths have to be connected and I think UW is our connection."

George twiddled a spoon between her fingers, spinning it around and over her fingers as she thought. "Hey, you're right. The first deaths were there- freak lab explosion. Then there was the murder of that dad and son we checked out, and then there was another kid at the university, this time shot in the chest. So we've got both the gravelings and the killers at UW. If we assume they're working together, there must be some reason they're interested in UW. And in the science labs in particular. Roxy! Can you find out what was taken during the robbery?"

Roxy nodded as she dropped her fork onto her now empty pie plate. "First thing in the morning," she promised.

Rube drummed his fingers against the table. "If you two are right, there might be a connection between all of the deaths that we're just not seeing. See what else you can dig up on the other victims as well, would you? I have this feeling that we're overlooking something."

"Maybe it will all make more sense once we figure out what the robbers were after," George offered with less sarcastic pessimism than she would normally use to utter such an optimistic thought. "Rox, was there any security footage or anything on robbers? Like, do we have any idea how many people were involved?"

"No footage, but the investigators are fairly sure it wasn't a one-man job. Probably more like three or four, maybe five if they had a getaway driver. So if our man in black was involved, he had help."

Rube frowned. "That might be helpful, but then again, if the man in black is our reaper, he could have rounded up mortal assistance for his robbery attempt." Seeing the defeat settling back across the faces of his former charges, Rube mentally kicked himself and attempted a small smile. "But this is good, we're getting somewhere. Tomorrow we'll look into the robbery and our victims some more and see where that takes us."

He stood and wrapped an arm around both women's shoulders. "Come on, you two. You'll both think better after getting some sleep." He led them to the foot of the stairs. "And I might actually finish typing my fucking reap lists if you get out of my make-shift office!"

George shot him a wan smile and played along with his efforts to lighten the mood, rolling her eyes and offering her typing assistance. "I'll be fine, go to bed smart-ass," he ordered with a twinkle in his eye.

Roxy just groaned at both of them and went upstairs, muttering about damn fools as she climbed the steps. George winked at Rube and followed, glad that between the three of them, they'd not only settled on a plan for tomorrow, but also restored a certain amount of normalcy, something that had been sorely lacking for a long time now. Since Rube had left the first time actually. The thought sobered her, making her question whether she really was doing as well as head reaper as she'd thought. But remembering Rube's words at Der Waffle Haus the other day made her push back her insecurities. She'd be no use to anyone if she spent all her fucking time playing mind games with herself. And with that mental lecture firmly given, George collapsed on top of her bed and promptly fell asleep.

Meanwhile, Rube finished typing and printing his lists and carefully placed all but one individually inside an envelope and set the stack outside the door, knowing the delivery shades would be by soon to pick them up and distribute them across the Pacific Northwest. Before shutting off the lights and making his way to the pull-out sofa, he dropped the sheet he'd left out of the pile at George's place at the table and then made a slight detour to the bathroom to scrub his face clean, brush his teeth, and change into a t-shirt and sweat pants. Rube glanced at the clock on the wall and groaned. He was way too old to stay up until three am chatting. With a resigned sigh, he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his socks, barely making it all the way onto the bed and under the sheets before sleep claimed him.

The next morning, Mason made his way downstairs, navigating largely on autopilot as one hand rubbed the sleep from his eyes and the other combed through his disheveled hair, managing to tousle it more than it had been already, the strands standing in every direction. With a huge yawn, he padded over to the fridge and pulled out a carton of orange juice, remembering at the last second that George (and probably Daisy too) would likely kill him if he was caught drinking from the carton again. He began poking through cabinets in search of a glass. On the third try, he emerged victorious, long fingers wrapped around a glass. He poured the juice and then shuffled over to the table. After a long drink of juice, he felt slightly more human but keenly felt the lack of coffee. He was peering at the coffee maker, trying to determine if he dared risk attempting to run it without breaking something important, when the machine clicked on automatically and began to brew. He heaved a sigh of relief. Just a few minutes more and the comforting rush of caffeine through his system might help to stave off his body's insistent demand for alcohol. Ever since Ray's death—or was it redeath?— and George's promotion, Mason had been attempting to wean himself off of the drugs and alcohol, fully aware of how they'd been used against him. The withdrawal symptoms had passed, but he knew the urge to drink never would. The fragile understanding that had emerged between him and Daisy was still so new that he was more determined than ever to avoid alcohol's siren song.

Roxy found him still slumped in the chair and staring hard at the coffeemaker, his white-knuckled grip on the empty juice glass belying his studied air of nonchalance. "Morning, love," he greeted her, attempting to pass for normal under her sharp gaze.

For her part, Roxy studied him closely and eventually decided that the suspicion she'd been quietly investigating for the past few months was accurate. Mason hadn't been hung over or bleary-eyed in months, and he'd been much more subdued and well-behaved lately. As the coffeemaker sputtered the last of the fresh brew into the pot, she squeezed his shoulder and moved to pour them both a cup. Mason grabbed his from her with a happy sigh, relinquishing his death-grip on the glass in favor of cradling the coffee mug to the side of his face and closing his eyes to enjoy the warmth. After letting it cool for a minute, he took a grateful swallow and feeling more centered, turned his attention back to his companion.

The two spent a moment in companionable silence, just quietly drinking their coffee. Roxy gently set her mug down on the table and then reached across the table to squeeze Mason's arm as she offered one of her rare compliments, "You're alright, Mason. I always thought you were better than the drugs and booze. That shit just fucks you up. I'm proud of you for going clean."

Mason ducked his head to hide the small smile curving across his face, secretly pleased that Roxy had noticed and cared. Straightening, he shrugged dismissively, trying to brush off his success. "Eh, y'know how it goes. Just wasn't as much fun as it used ta be."

Roxy raised her eyebrows but just murmured a skeptical, "Mhmm." Daisy chose that moment to make her appearance, flouncing into the room so that the layered skirt of her dress fluttered prettily. "And I'm sure that had nothing to do with it too," Roxy remarked knowingly.

Mason blushed and quickly started chattering to divert Daisy's attention away from Roxy's cryptic utterance.

Exhausted, George stumbled into the kitchen and immediately went for the coffee. Despite the long night ironing out a plan of attack, she hadn't allowed herself the luxury of sleeping in, knowing that more deaths would occur until they caught the son of a bitch doing the killing. The others wisely left her alone. After gulping down her coffee, she poured herself a refill and then poured the last of the pot into a mug for Rube and started a fresh pot.

Sipping hers, she carefully maneuvered towards the sofa bed and set Rube's mug down on the coffee table before shaking his shoulder to wake him. When he groaned and cracked one eye open to see who'd dared to wake him, George gave him a tired smile and then gestured to the coffee sitting on the table for him. With a resigned sigh, he hauled himself up so he was sitting upright and leaning against the sofa back and sipped at his coffee, not batting an eye when George settled down next to him on the bed and let her head fall back with a tired sigh as she contemplated the day's tasks. Tilting her head slightly to look at her old boss, she questioned, "We have any early reaps today? I haven't looked at the list yet."

Rube just shook his head and continued to sip his coffee. After another five minutes, George stood with a groan. "Alright, team meeting time. You wanna fill 'em in while I write up post-its?"

"If you want," he offered, standing and following her back to the kitchen.

They sank down into their respective seats and George proceeded to assign appointments while Rube, with the occasional interjection from Roxy, filled Mason and Daisy in on their late-night brainstorming session. The couple volunteered to do some digging on the victims to see if there were any connections they were missing, while Roxy announced her intention of heading to the precinct to find out anything she could on the robbery that they'd managed to overlook. George snapped the rubber band back around the appointment calendar and slapped post-its down in front of their respective owners.

When they all just calmly read their notes and tucked them away without really reacting, some of George's normal exuberance began to reassert itself. "Well, come on, people! Let's get busy!" With a horrified gasp, George slapped her hand over her mouth. "Shit! I'm fucking turning into Delores!"