The small package arrived at the hotel in London before Jonathan Granger had even entered the country, waiting for him behind the reception desk. It was neatly labelled and wrapped securely, a simple padded envelope containing something relatively bulky but small enough to be posted. His hired security checked it over thoroughly before it ever came within meters of the star, but eventually it was brought to his room along with the other fan mail that that shown up in the hotel's daily intake of post.

Opened up, it was revealed to be simply a small digital voice recorder, with a bright sticker attached to it emblazoned with an arrow pointing to the Play button. A smooth hand had written in pink ink, "Press Me", with a small heart above it. And it was unusual enough, as fan mail goes, to warrant the interest of the star to whom it had been sent.

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When Jon pressed the Play button, there was a moment of static sound, and a young woman's voice began to speak. It was a sweet voice, perhaps a little gravelly, as though she were fighting off a severe cough and cold at the time of making the recording, some of the words a little indistinct as she spoke. But her message was very clear.

"Hey, Jon. I can call you Jon, can't I" So many people just assume they can use your first name just because they think they know you, and it's never felt right to me. Your first name is something very personal to you and the people who love you, isn't it' But I feel like maybe you don't mind so much, since you never correct people, so you can't really tell me not to call you Jon.

"I have to tell you, I am seriously your Number One Fan. I've seen every one of your films, and most of the stuff you've done on stage, here and on Rhy'Din. I kinda missed the last year of your work - I haven't been very well. I got into some trouble and it nearly took me out, and I promised myself when I was all better, I'd contact you and let you know I'm still around. We met once, on the last night of Waiting For Godot at the Shanachie. I was at the stage door, and you were just coming out, and you gave me your autograph and shook my hand. I haven't washed it since, not properly. I mean, I had to wash it, but I never wash the part where you actually touched me, even if you were kinda distracted with your boyfriend at the time ....

"Anywho, I love your work, most of it, anyway. You're such a talent, you express everything so effortlessly. It's like every time you pick up a new script, you turn into someone else who is still this gorgeous, wonderful guy deep down. I really enjoyed your Hamlet earlier this year ....I don't usually go for the Shakespeare stuff, but there's just something about you in tights holding a sword ....Man, you're so sexy when you're in the zone. But, you know, not so happy with hearing you did Fifty Shades of Grey. Seriously, what gives the rest of the world the right to see you like that' You're nothing but a sex symbol to them, someone to drool over and fantasize about, and that's just wrong.

"No one loves you the way I do, Jon. No one does. I know you got married, but come on, you and I both know it's just for the baby's sake. You must be so miserable in that marriage, having her always around, never letting you go anywhere on your own. I'll bet she tricked you into it somehow; she's just like all the others you've been with, selfish and cruel and manipulating. No one's that perky all the time without being on something. Do you really want your baby to be born addicted to uppers"

"I wish you'd answered any of my letters; I can get you a baby. You name it, I'll find it for you. I'll do more than that, if you'll let me. I know my last plan kinda didn't come off right. I'm real sorry about that. I swear, you weren't supposed to get in the way. It wasn't supposed to be that messy, it just happened. But it got you outta trouble for a while, so I guess it turned out okay. I'll do it better next time. I already have it all planned out, it'll be done before you know it, and you'll be so pleased.

"All I want is to see you smile, Jon. Smile properly, without having anyone's hand on you telling you to do this or say that or look there. I gave up everything for you, Jon, and you never noticed me before. I'll make sure you notice me this time. It'll be great, I promise."

Another moment of static, and the haunting opening bars of Nancy Sinatra's Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down) began to resound from the little recorder.

((I cannot take credit for the above, which was written by Vicki's awesomefantastic player. Creepy, no' Not Vicki. The message! ;-) ))

Jon considered the question a moment, weighing the pros and cons before arriving at a decision. "No, I'm not canceling anything. I'm not going to let one nut job stop me from living my life." Ultimately, it was going to be up to Vicki, not him anyway. "Just make the call, Liv. We'll wait for you to call back."

"I'm on it." And it was Liv who hung up on Jon, not the other way around. She was a little too single-minded when it came to doing what was asked of her as soon as it was asked, but in this case, that was definitely a good thing.

Jon hung up the phone and slid it into his pants pocket, so that it was nearby when Liv called back. He nibbled at a thumbnail, which was really not something Jon normally did, suddenly craving a cigarette, though he hadn't smoked in months. He tapped a finger nervously against the phone in his pocket, debating what to do about Vicki. There was really only one thing he could do, and that was to tell her the truth. He pushed off the bed and made his way into the living area to join his wife, reluctant to worry her, but needing to be honest.

She was sitting on the windowsill, arms crossed over her little bump, staring down at the busy London streets below. The hotels here weren't as plush and high-rise as those in New York had been, and she was able to watch specific people moving back and forth, visible herself if anyone cared to look upward. She'd purposely not listened in on Jon's phone call, informing herself sternly that it was ridiculous to feel jealous of Liv, and chosen to wait patiently. It was up to her husband to tell her the truth or not, but she was definitely aware that she had missed something.

Jon saw Vicki at the window and two thoughts came immediately to mind, both of which were disturbing for different reasons. The first was that she shouldn't be sitting at the window, where anyone could see her from the streets and either know she was there or possibly try to harm her. The second thought was how sad she looked sitting there by herself, and he felt a wave of regret wash over him. Not regret for marrying her or bringing her here, but worry and regret for unknowingly putting her in danger and not being completely forthcoming about it. His first instinct had been to call Liv to contact the authorities and increase security, and though he knew he had done the right thing, he somehow needed to tell Vicki what was going on.

Jon made his way over to the window, gentling his voice, despite his worries. "Hey, you okay?" he asked, hoping to pull her attention away from the window and the crowd in the streets.

It took a moment for Vicki to respond, proving with that delay that she wasn't really watching the street below but lost in her own thoughts. Her lips curved in an absent-minded smile that almost didn't touch her eyes, an expression alien on her usually bright face. She drew in a slow breath, letting it out in a heavy sigh as she turned her back to the window, rising onto her feet to look up at Jon. "I'm fine," she assured him in a quiet voice. "Are you?"

Should he tell her the truth, that he wasn't okay, or should he lie just to reassure her and allay her worries" Was he over-reacting, or trying to play it safe" He figured the truth was probably best and shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. Maybe I'm over-reacting, but I've just got a bad feeling about it."

"Are you going to tell me about it?" It was gently asked, but Vicki just wasn't good enough at schooling her expression to hide the dull suggestion of jealous pain that flickered in her eyes as she went on, truthfully laying out with a deliberately wry smile her objection to his immediate reaction. "I'd like to know what has you worried enough to call your P.A. rather than talk to me first." She shrugged her own shoulders, not liking how petty that sounded, and shook her head. "That's not supposed to sound like a criticism, Jon, I just ..." She sighed again and gave up being diplomatic. "I'm jealous."

"Jealous?" he echoed, arching both brows. That was the last thing he expected to hear from her. He reached for her hands to pull her away from the window. "Vicki, there's nothing to be jealous of. She's my assistant. She works for me. That's all." He wanted to explain, but gently, not all at once, not wanting to worry her too much.

"I know." Her smile was more a grimace, self-deprecating and touched with guilt for even feeling that ugly emotion, much less admitting to it. Her hands slid into his as he drew her out of the autumn sunshine peeking in through the window. "But I've obviously missed something that has you worried, and rather than talk to me about it, you called Liv. It's a ridiculous reaction, I know, I just ....I can't help it." Hadn't Humphrey warned Jon that his wife might become a little irrational as her pregnancy advanced"

He pulled her away from the window to the couch that was positioned a safe distance from the window, at least in Jon's estimation, and took a seat, pulling her down with him. Whatever warning Humphrey had given him was temporarily forgotten. The last thing Jon wanted to do was upset her, but he knew if he kept his concerns from her and they were valid, there would be far worse consequences to deal with than just his wife's moodiness. "I called Liv first because I want her to increase security and contact the authorities. I know I'm probably over-reacting, but I'd rather over-react than do nothing."

Vicki's eyes dropped to her hands, still clasped in his as he drew her down to the couch beside him. "I'm sorry," she apologised for her fit of bad humor, making an effort to pull herself together. She had a vague feeling that she'd only reacted that way because of her current hormonal tendency to take everything too much to heart, and she didn't like it. Lifting her eyes to his, her expression was lighter, if still solemn, as she spoke. "What did I miss, love" What is it that has you so worried?"

The moment of truth had arrived, and he had no choice but to tell her what was worrying him, no matter her reaction, and he had to do it before Scotland Yard arrived to poke around and ask questions. He needed her to know before they did. He licked his lips, eyes meeting hers, despite his nervousness. "It's about the shooting," he started, waiting a moment for that to sink in, not wanting to frighten her by spitting it all out at once.

Vicki paled, her freckle-dusted face turning from pink-flushed porcelain to luminescent white. Unlike Jon, she remembered the shooting; she remembered the terror of thinking him about to die. It was the darkest part of her history, and a place she tried hard to avoid returning to in her mind. But it was brought to the fore here and now, and if he thought it had some bearing on what was happening, then she had to listen. Licking her suddenly dry lips, she squeezed her hands about his fingers, swallowing hard. "What about it?"

His frown deepened at her reaction, and he gave her hands a reassuring squeeze. "I don't want to scare you, but..." He paused again as he searched for the right words, feeling like this was quite possibly the hardest thing he could ever remember having to do. "They never caught the shooter and....The message....I know it might be nothing, but I don't want to take any chances." "Vicki, if the shooter sent that message, then I don't think it was me she was after." It had never occurred to him before that the shooter might have been a woman, but now, it sort of made sense. The pieces of the puzzle were falling slowly into place, though he hoped to God he was wrong.

There was a moment where his wife was absolutely still, utterly expressionless, her alarmed eyes fixed on his ....and quite suddenly, those familiar blue eyes blazed with absolute fury. "If she comes anywhere near you, I'll kill her myself," Vicki flared suddenly, though they both knew that was never likely to happen. She could barely bring herself to kill a spider, much less a human being. But the flare of anger was damped by his continuation, one hand slipping from his to curl over the swell of their baby in her womb. "They wouldn't. Would they?"

His wife leaned back to look him in the eye with a flick of a smile he was a little too familiar with. "Seriously' You two would trust us out and about on our own?" she asked in vague amusement, knowing the clash of vibrant personalities between herself and Johnny Storm was the cause of a certain amount of consternation between Jon and Liv.

He shrugged, not really happy about the prospect, but thinking she might be safer with a superhero tagging along, rather than just a bodyguard. "So long as he keeps his hands to himself, I'm fine with it. She said he wanted to help." And who was he to stop him' Besides, Jon wasn't planning on letting Vicki out of his sight very often, so Liv's boyfriend wouldn't have much of a chance to cause trouble or get on Vicki's nerves, he hoped.

Vicki chuckled softly, shaking her head to dismiss the worries over something they didn't really have any control over in the first place. "You really think he'd dare?" she smiled, touching the tip of her nose to his fondly. "He's still so happy about having the condo, he'd strangle himself before risking Liv's job." She touched her lips gently to Jon's. "Sweetheart, you've done everything you can. There's no point upsetting yourself with worrying about it any more."

"Not if he doesn't want Liv to castrate him." Though he wasn't really sure Liv would do that. Her sister Lucy would, but Jon didn't know that. He sighed, frowning a little as he returned her kiss. She was right; they'd done everything they could, at least for now. He wondered if he should start carrying a handgun again, at least when they got back to Rhy'Din, but he was really hoping all of this would be resolved before they got back. If it wasn't, he was going to have to seriously think about what precautions to take once they got there, but one thing at a time. He rubbed a thumb against his temple, which was starting to pound from the stress. "I just don't want to take any chances, Vic."

"So we won't take chances," she assured him, leaning up to kiss his temple, recognising all the signs of a massive headache in the making. "But we're not going to stop living our lives, either. I love you, but I will slap you silly if you try and turn us all into recluses over this." The smile that broke as she offered up this threat was reassuringly Vicki once again, the stress and upset easing out of her as she sought to calm him down.

"How do you know I won't like that?" he asked, with a strained smirk, the stress starting to take a toll via the headache. What he needed was a drink and a couple of aspirin, but he didn't think it would be wise for the investigator to smell alcohol on his breath. "No, we're not going to stop living just because some nut job is sending me creepy messages, but we are going to be careful," he agreed, reaffirming his intentions to keep her and the baby safe from harm. He leaned heavily against the couch, closing his eyes, and rubbing at his temple. Maybe a cup of coffee would be a better idea, but caffeine would probably only wind him up more. "So much for a relaxing day," he grumbled with a frown.

She sighed softly, gently removing his hand from his temple and replacing it with her own, rubbing the pad of her thumb in light circles over the throb in his head. "We can still relax," she told him softly. "Let's not go out, though. What do you say to a long hot bath, and dinner up here in private" Just like home, or as close as we can get. And, no," she hurried to assure him, "I'm not saying this because of everything that's happened. I'm saying this because I want to spend some time with my husband without wondering if the next person to walk by is going to demand a photograph or an autograph, or want to touch my stomach. Which, by the way, is incredibly annoying."

He smiled, looking relieved at her suggestion, just wanting to relax and spend some time with her without the prying eyes of his adoring and unadoring public. "Are you sure?" He didn't want to hold her back from doing anything she wanted to do while they were in London, but he was just as happy to spend it alone and in private. "Want me to get you a shirt that says 'Do Not Touch'?" he smirked, his sense of humor slowly returning.

"Wouldn't suggest it if I wasn't sure," she countered fondly, settling in close beside him. The roundness of her bump pressed into his side, allowing the baby to stretch into him as much as her under the pressure of the close contact. "You know, I'm pretty sure there are shirts around that say "Hands Off The Bump"," she added with a low laugh, touching another light kiss to his cheekbone. "Or we could get one made ...."Jon's Bump, No Touchy"."

"I'll buy you one in every color possible," he smiled, reaching over and resting a hand against her baby bump, feeling the movement beneath his hand with a renewed sense of wonder. "Is that the baby?" he asked. Though it was pretty obvious that it was, it was all new to him, and he was still in awe of it.

"Mmhmm." She nodded in confirmation, her smile softening at the awe in his voice. Though the worry was still going to press on them both, they could push it away in equal enjoyment of the child growing inside her for now. "Feels as though its stretching out for a bit."

"We're gonna have to make a list of names," he remarked thoughtfully, as he turned to face her, gently rubbing a hand against the baby that was growing inside her, suddenly feeling an overwhelming sense of responsibility and protectiveness well up inside him. She meant more to him than life itself, and the child growing inside her was just as precious. "I love you, you know. Both of you," he told her, unable to hide the emotion from his voice.

His wife leaned close, her lips brushing his as she answered him with her reassuring refusal to take anything particularly seriously, especially romance. "Well, I should hope you do love me," she murmured in an impish tone. "I'm not in the habit of letting just anyone plant a baby and fondle it from the outside, you know." She grinned, nestling close into him, letting him wrap her up in his protective embrace. "I love you back."

He smiled, somewhat relieved that she was her usual self again, despite the threat hanging over their heads. He wrapped her up in his embrace, pressing an affectionate and protective kiss against her cheek. "A long, hot bath sounds nice, but don't expect me to dance to the Spice Girls again today. I don't think I have the energy." Though that could definitely change. Stranger things had happened where they were involved.

The storm had passed, for now, at least. By the end of an hour, they would have Scotland Yard asking questions, and Felix, the head of the security firm Liv had hired for their protection, laying down the law anew with what they could and couldn't do. But once they were gone, the Grangers would have the luxury of the rest of the day to themselves, and a plan of how to spend it in one another's company. Despite the new threat and renewed worries, things didn't get much better than this.

((Humongous thanks to Vicki's player for the above scene and for allowing me to cause a little trouble for our newlyweds. :grin:))