Mac and I sat huddled together on the sidewalk across the street from Clear Portals, blankets wrapped around our shoulders as we watched the scene play out before us. Neither of us said anything because we didn't know what to say. The police arrived not soon after Nick's collapse, but not soon enough to save my friend. Nick was pronounced dead at the scene, and I watched his cloth-covered body be wheeled away on a stretcher.

Mac was immediately tended to, as was I though I insisted he needed it more. Even through my stitches and diagnosed concussion, I kept my attention on Mac as they helped him sit up and eventually stand, but there was a camaraderie to it, like they were helping one of their own.

Because they were.

"So, when were you going to let me know you were a cop?" I asked softly, not taking my eyes off the front of the store I might never step foot in again.

"When it was all over," he conceded, his own voice low. "If I let you know I was undercover, it would have ruined everything."

I couldn't help but scoff. "Isn't it already?"

"No," he said quickly, turning to look at me. "You're still alive."

"But for what?" I asked, motioning to the chaos in front of us. "I lost my friend-"

"Who wanted to kill you."

"I don't have a job-"

"No longer working for the friend who wanted to kill you."

I scowled at him. "This is not funny."

"I know." He signed. "It's how I cope."

I pulled my knees up to my chest. "I'd like to cope with a bottle of whiskey."

"Only if it's Macallan's."

I glared at him. "I thought it was you, you know."

"I know." He sighed. "I wanted you to."

"Is that why you called me to come to the store?"

"No- I needed you to come to the store to open the door. I was going to tell you everything once you were there, and then I was going to send you back to the station to keep you safe-"

"You know they brought me in?"

"I told them to. But you insisted on storming off."

"They accused me of murder."

"I asked them to stall. And I needed you to see the card they found."

"And the officers around my apartment?"

"My futile attempt at keeping you safe."

"From Nick?"

"From Nick."

I frowned. "Did you know I worked with him?"

"I did."

"And was that why you slept with me?"

"No." His gaze didn't waver. "Nothing in my job description included you, Siobhan. Everything with you- that was real."

My cheeks flushed. "So I guess this means you'll have to leave soon?"

"Unless there's some reason for me to stay."

I bit my lip. "Is Mackenzie Stewart even your real name?

He chuckled softly. "No. No it's not. It's-"

"No, don't tell me."

He perked a brow.

"I like Mac."

He gave me a slight smile and looked back at the darkened store. "What will you do now?"

I shrugged. "Maybe I'll take a trip overseas."

He glanced at me at that.

"I hear Scotland's lovely this time of year."

Humor flickered in his eyes and he leaned down to give me a gentle kiss despite his swollen lip.

"What if you opened up your own shop?"

I scoffed. "Me and what money?"

"The reward money."

I blinked. "What reward money."

"The reward money for any leads on who was responsible for a string of murders similar to this out in California and Illinois."

"But- you were undercover. You followed him here. You caught him."

"It wouldn't have happened without you. Plus, since Mackenzie Stewart isn't my real name anyway, I can't come to claim it anyway."

I stared at him. "You're serious."

"Think about it."

I looked back to the storefront, and I did think about it. Not about what just happened, but everything before it. The memories I had there were all good, even if the person they were with turned out to be anything but. But there, I was useful. I had purposes...

There, I was myself.

"But only if you can find me someone who can run a register with an extremely seductive Scottish accent. I hear the ladies love the accent."

He smiled widely at that. "Almost as much as the guys love the Irish eyes of a woman who can tell their future."

I smiled and dared to lean into him again but a uniformed office approached us cautiously, interrupting our musings.

"We're ready sir," he said to us and Mac nodded.

"We'll be right there." The officer nodded and stepped away to give us space and Mac turned to face me. "You sure you want to do this now?"

I closed my eyes and nodded. "Let's get this over with. It's not like I'll get any sleep tonight anyway."

He gave me a sympathetic smile and took my hand. Slowly we stood together but I didn't let go of his hand.

And he didn't release mine.

"Have you ever considered contract work?" he asked as we walked towards the waiting police car that would take us both to the station.

"I'm not going to become your hit-man," I muttered. "I think I've had enough killing for a lifetime."

He squeezed my hand. "No, I meant metaphysically. You have a skill set that's viable and potentially useful in solving cases."

"I'm not a clairvoyant."

"But you have intuition which is more than I can say for most of the people on the force."

I glanced up to him. "But I didn't think you were staying."

"That was before I accepted a job as the head cashier of the new and improved clear portals."

I let out a chuckle but still shook my head. "The name will need to change."

"Do you already have something in mind?" he inquired as we stood outside the vehicle.

Glancing over my shoulder, I looked back to the dark, empty store.

My store.

And I smiled.

"We're going to call it Celtic Cross."