The Truth that Lies Behind Celestia

A/N: I realized that some people might find the time line confusing so let me break it down for you k? It starts in April 2007 and in some chapters it flashes forward to July/August 2012. 2012 is the present, 2007 is the past. I'm not changing tenses erratically and this story does make sense. There are flashbacks that explain the situations the characters are in, get it?

April 7, It started out with a look. A quick glance that seemed insignificant but in reality, it said a million words. Adam sat across the waiting room, unsure of what exactly those words were. She was a pretty girl, in her early twenties, her long hair was pulled back in a side pony tail which let him know that she was a structured woman. Her round eyes let out a sense of sensuality as she stared at the screen before her. Her hands were manicured, assuring him she was immaculate in some form. She wore scrubs but he knew she wasn't a nurse for she was in the reception area assisting the patients who entered the office. Maybe she was the nurse assistant, nothing medical, she just aided the nurse or doctor with the paper work. No ring on her finger, he noticed. She probably didn't have a serious boyfriend, but she had one none the less. The pink gloss on her lips, her soft peachy cheeks and the slight make up on her eyes were the evidence of that. Her eyebrows furrowed as she was writing on the clipboard, she didn't like whatever she was writing.

"How much longer?" he heard Brian beside him. He didn't answer right away. The girl looked at him and smiled, leaving him with a sense of confusion. He was good with reading people but she was somehow illegible. Her eyes seemed to be telling him, this is who I am, but her smile told him that whoever she was, she was undecipherable.

"We've been in here just to ask him a simple bloody question, not to find a heart donor, " Brian complained.

But Adam wasn't listening to a word he was saying, or he was but he gave it no importance. The girl left the clipboard to the side and went back to her typing. She paused and drank from her water bottle. Interesting, he thought, a water bottle clearly made out of recycled material, the tag was taken off, and it seemed like she had that bottle for days, even weeks. Could it be that she was a miniscule form of what was called, a hoarder? Or she detested getting rid of things, for the fear that it was a waste to throw a perfectly useable bottle? By the deteriorated pen in her hand that has seen better days, he concluded with the second option.

"Adam?" he heard Brian clearly frustrated.

"Sorry, you were saying?" he said nonchalantly.

"I was saying that if this Yankee comes and says he knows nothing of the subject I will break his nose."

"You wouldn't call him Yankee, because A. He is from a Hispanic descent, seen in his last name, Gutierrez and B. We are on the south of United States so close to the border that it is hardly considered a Yankee state, being also that it is not part of the original thirteen colonies, and lastly, your hand is too small for it to actually break anything, " he replied without removing his eyes from the woman at the desk. The woman broke into a smile, maybe remembering something, or maybe she was eavesdropping on their conversation.

"Listen, lad, just because you are a bloody. . ."

"Brian Sims, " the woman interrupted. "Doctor Gutierrez is ready to see you." They both stood and walked towards the doctor's office. "Excuse me, " the woman called out, making them both stop. "You both can't enter the room. Sorry."

"It's alright, we are not patients, " Brian responded and took a step forward.

"I'm sorry, " she stood from her chair, "Even if you are not here for medical purposes, you both can't enter the room. It's part of a confidentiality clause."

Brian's eyes rolled to one side. "Fine, " he turned towards Adam, "You stay here."

Adam didn't hear him, his eyes were tied on the young woman's face. Interesting, he thought, she knew how to impute authority but she was careful not to lose her temper, or sound angry at all. With the simple act of standing, make people like Brian, who has a big problem with women telling him what to do, see that she was not inferior to anyone.

"Forgive him, " Adam apologized. "He has anger issues."

The woman smiled. "You are not from around here, are you?" she asked noticing Adam's accent.

"What gave it away?"

The woman laughed, very feminine like, he noted. "Your outfit. Let me guess, England? London, is it?"

"Good guess, " he said impressed. Not because she was right, anybody could tell he was from London because of his accent, but because she was so tranquil.

"I love London, " she said almost dreamily, as she walked to the other side of her desk and leaned against it, facing him.

"You've ever been?" he asked.

"Yes, well, back when I was fifteen, we went to London in a family vacation; I fell in love with it. What brings you to Phoenix? Business or pleasure?"

"You can say both."

"You mean, 'work at what you love and you'll never have to work again' theory?"

"Precisely."

"What do you do?"

He spoke slowly, "I work for the police."

"You are a cop?"

"I am more like a private detective."

"Really? But you said you were here for business, isn't Phoenix out of your jurisdiction?"

"You are very curious, aren't you?"