A/N: I don't know if they would have been in the chapel on a Saturday night, so just improvise. Maybe Fuller just told him to meet them there, and they're the only three actually there at the time. Really long chapter. Breaking it up into two parts again. The second part might have a different name.

"I don't know," Fuller said, tapping his pen on the desk impatiently. "It seems highly unlikely."

"Naw, cap," Doug began sarcastically. "It's perfectly normal for a girl to just show up at our door and tell us she was raped."

"It's not that part," Fuller said, beginning to chew on the cap of his pen. "It's the way you guys tell it. What she was doing, the things she said. I'm not doubting that she would show up. That's not weird at all--well, compared to the rest of what you're saying-- but everything else is pretty abnormal for a rape victim."

"Yeah, well Tegan's not exactly..." Tom paused, as in if search for the right word, "mundane."

"What about Damian?" Fuller asked.

"What about him?" Doug asked.

"Well, the way you say Tegan was acting," Fuller hesitated. "The only thing I can think of for an explanation for that would be it hadn't been the first time something had happened between her and Damian." Tom and Doug looked at each other. "So how do Damian and Tegan act when they're together?"

"Dysfunctional," Tom muttered.

"When they're not fighting, they've got their tongues down each other's throat," Doug answered. Fuller nodded.

"I rest my case."

"Well, if it's been happening already-- or has happened, at least, why'd she come to us now? Where'd she go that last few times?" Tom asked, sitting up straighter.

"That's not what we're trying to figure out, Hanson," Fuller replied impatiently. "We're trying to figure out where she is. When we find out where she is, then you can ask her that question."

"Yea, but, you can see why I'd think it's important--" Tom began.

"Tom," Doug said shortly, "how's this for an answer? Wherever she went, it wasn't our house." Tom glared at Doug. Apparently, he thought that answer was a bit too 'smart-ass' for him.

"So what are you guys going to do about this?" Fuller asked, interrupting Tom and Doug's staring contest. They both looked up at him, apparently too caught up in the moment to understand what he was talking about.

"What?" they asked in unison. Fuller sighed.

"What are you going to do? About finding Tegan?" Fuller repeated. A silence followed, Tom and Doug apparently not having any idea what they were going to do about it.

"You know," Doug finally said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just wait until Monday, see if she actually shows up at school. That's a start, right?"

"A start, but not a very good one," Fuller replied, leaning back in his chair. "You guys said you called her mom?"

"After some very intense phonebook-scouting, yeah," Tom replied, unsure of where Fuller was going with this.

"What did she say?" Fuller asked, the pen replaced back in his mouth. Apparently, pen chewing and recalling phone conversations called for some very serious thinking.

"That Tegan wasn't there. That she had spent the night at Braelyn's and hadn't gotten back yet," Tom said.

"Which we know she didn't," Doug continued. "Because, you know, she was at our house."

"Which probably means that she lied to go hang out with Damian. Or Damnian lied for her, I don't know," Tom said.

"Who did you tell her you were?"

"Tom McQuaid."

"Did she ask why you were calling?"

"No," Tom answered. "She did ask if I wanted to leave a message, so I told her to tell Tegan that I called. Tom McQuaid called, I mean."

"Alright, well," Fuller said, hesitating for a moment, "I think it's time you paid Mrs. Wyght a visit. I guess you should tell her that you're police officers, given that her daughter's missing. Or might be missing. And after her house, I suggest making two little side trips to the Charbanneau and Savage households."

"You mean, household of the obnoxious French surname?" Doug asked.

"If that's what you're calling them," Fuller said.

"Won't that, like, ruin our cover, coach?" Tom asked, rubbing his temples. His hangover that he had woken up with earlier this morning (afternoon?) was finally gone, yet he had been left with a pretty major headache.

"It's seven P.M. on a Saturday night, Tom," Fuller replied with a slight eyeroll. "They're teenagers. Do the math."

"Are you saying we should do this now? Like, just stand up and leave your office-- now?" Tom asked, clearly not liking this idea.

"No, Hanson. I said to do it tomorrow," Fuller said sarcastically. "Yes, do it now!" Tom and Doug sat motionlessly on the chairs in front of Fuller's desk, staring at the captain. Neither of them felt the overwhelming desire to go see anyone's parents at the moment-- honestly, neither one of them thought that this part of the case was going to be that important. As a matter of fact, they'd decided this morning that they were dropping out of it as soon as Tegan was safely returned home. Now, Tom absolutely hated dropping out of cases and Doug wasn't one to do it without reason either, but this one just wasn't leading them to anything. "Must I get out a dictionary and define the word 'now' for you two?"

"No sir," Doug said quickly.

"We're leaving," Tom said, although he continued sitting in his chair. It was Saturday, they had the day off. However, Fuller didn't seem to think that mattered much as he just continued to stare at them. Doug seemed to understand that they should actually leave, as Tom said they were going to (and so suddenly disregarded making the promise). Wordlessly, he grabbed Tom's wrist and dragged him out of Fuller's office.

--

"Is this her house?" Tom asked, staring at the pink, one-story home. In all honesty, it was adorable. Too adorable, as a matter of fact. Just like every other house on the street.

"Yes," Doug replied, staring at the address that he had written on a piece of paper. "I think so, anyway."

"Think so?" Tom asked. "Doug, we can't just think that this is her house."

"Well, I can't very well know," Doug snapped back. "I've never exactly been to her house before. However, it has the same address that I have here."

"On a scale of one to ten, how sure are you that this is her house?" Tom asked, tapping the steering wheel nervously.

"Now you're just being stupid, Tom," Doug sighed, exiting the car. Tom watched Doug, who slammed the car door just a little too hard. Honestly, Tom didn't know what he was so afraid of. All they were doing was going to go ask Mrs. (Ms?) Wyght a few questions.

"Yes," Tom found himself muttering to himself as he watched Doug approach the house. Doug's hands were in the pocket of his jacket, and as he reached the porch he nervously stood on the edge, his heels teetering up and down, his toes hanging off of the edge. He was staring at the car, intent on somehow getting Tom out of the car with only a stare. "You're being incredibly stupid, Tom."

At that, he automatically pushed the Mustang's door open and sauntered over to where Doug was standing on the porch. Doug's disapproving glare was burning holes into Tom, who was pretending to ignore the fact that Doug was so obviously annoyed with him.

"What's wrong?" Tom muttered in a low tone as he passed Doug on the porch. He tried his best to sound innocent, although he knew the sarcasm successfully overrode it.

"You walk much faster than that, Tommy?" Doug asked, reaching forward to ring the doorbell.

"You tell me," Tom replied, his response immediately being followed by the swinging open of the front door. As if the fast response to the doorbell hadn't been shocking enough, the plump woman with the curly bleached hair gave Tom an impression that he was at a very wrong house. Compared to Tegan's dark brown head of hair and slender figure, the two looked nothing alike. However, some of her facial and less prominent figures were similar-- their height, for one. They're eyes, which Tom had just realized were a very piercing shade of blue. Their noses were pretty similar, but then again, their noses were pretty normal, if not a little off-center. They're eyes were even both set in the same general places. So maybe Tegan did look a little like this woman.

It was then that Tom was finally aware of the awkward silence. The woman was staring at them in turn, and Tom was suddenly aware that he too was staring at her. He dug his hands in his pockets, and looked at the ground, pretending to read the woman's welcome mat.

"Who are you?" the woman asked, still staring at them in turn. "What do you want?"

Doug cleared his throat. "Ma'am, my name is Doug Penhall, and this here--" he paused, stepping on Tom's foot to make him look up at the woman, "--this is Tom--"

"McQuaid?" the woman interrupted, looking suspiciously at Tom. Well, that almost confirmed that this was the Tegan's mom.

"You could say that," Tom said quietly, offering a smile. There was another following awkward silence, until Tom finally managed to speak up. "Mrs... Wyght. Um, do you mind if we come in?"

"Miss," Tegan's mother corrected him hastily. However, Tom and Doug couldn't make sense of the correction and just stared at her, as if looking or waiting for some sort of explanation. "I'm not married. Anymore. So it's Ms. Wyght, if you're going to call me anything."

Doug looked relieved, as though he had suddenly doubted that they had ended up at the right house. Tom felt the same way, though somehow managed to keep his face straight. He cleared his throat, and re-stated his question. "Ms. Wyght, do you mind if we come in?"

Ms. Wyght crossed her arms over her chest, and shifted her weight to only her right foot. Tom's immediate thought was wondering how she had room to do that in the doorway, and he mentally kicked himself. That was something that Doug would more say, after they left. Nothing Tom would have ever said. Or thought. "Why?"

Ms. Wyght's words interrupted Tom's mental berating, and he gaped at the woman. Why couldn't she just let them in? He glanced over at Doug, unsure of what to do. Doug, however, was also looking at him for reassurance. So much for the idea that Doug might be able to help him here. Or help them both-- it really didn't matter.

"Obviously, you've never met my mom. My dad wasn't exactly... the best, I guess you could say. Ever since, Mom's been pretty much convinced that all guys aren't worth shit. If I so much as let a guy within a five foot radius of me, I'm immediately considered a whore and she has to beat that boy to death. I'm half-convinced that my mother may be a heavily-closeted lesbian."

Tegan's words rang through Tom's ears as if she were here, telling him that now instead of yesterday.

"Well?" Ms. Wyght repeated. "Are you going to give me a reason to let you in, or stand on my porch for another two hours?"

This time, when Tom looked over at Doug, he had his badge out of his pocket and opened, showing it to Ms. Wyght. "We're police officers. We're here to talk about your daughter."

Ms. Wyght grabbed Doug's badge out of his hand, and began examining it. After she seemed to have decided it was real, she moved aside and let Doug in. Tom tried to follow his partner inside of the house, but Ms. Wyght was too fast and jumped in front of the doorway. Before Tom could protest, Ms. Wyght asked him if he had a badge.

Of course he did. "Here," Tom replied, digging his hand into his jacket pocket, not even bothering to open it as he handed it to Tegan's mother. The woman studied the Tom's badge for a longer time, but didn't hand it back when she had finished examining it.

"You said your last name was McQuaid," she pointed out, looking at Tom above his badge.

Tom took a double-take. "If you let me inside, me and my partner will be... glad to explain what's going on."

Ms. Wyght stepped aside, but didn't give Tom his badge back. Once she shut the door, he stood tensely next to Doug, thinking that it would be wrong to move so much as a muscle. Doug seemed to have been doing the same exact thing. Neither of them moved, barely even breathed, until Ms. Wyght was leading them to what they assumed was a family room. She threw Tom's badge onto a coffee table, and lowered herself down into an arm chair. She reached into her pocket, withdrawing a pack of cigarettes. She nodded towards the couch that was across the room as she stuck a cigarette in her mouth. Tom and Doug cautiously seated themselves on the couch, not having felt so awkward in a very long time.

"So?" Ms. Wyght said out of one side of her mouth, lighting the cigarette that was being clamped down on by the other side.

"Ms. Wyght," Tom began nervously, "we work for the Jump Street program--"

"And what good is you telling me that if you're not going to tell me what it is?" Ms. Wyght interjected before Tom could even think about elaborating. He shut his mouth automatically and stared at the woman for a moment, needing Doug's knee to knock against his to remind him to continue

"We... we go into high schools, undercover, and solve cases that go on there, you know. We were at your daughters school for--"

"Are you saying my daughter's being accused of something?" Ms. Wyght asked suspiciously, her tone sounding less threatening as she burst into a loud coughing fit. Tom waited for her to stop coughing before he continued.

"Yes and no-- I don't really know, Ms. Wyght. But that's not why we're here," Tom began, not expecting to be allowed to keep talking. He waited for Ms. Wyght to say something, but she kept quiet. "When I talked to you earlier today on the phone-- when I told you my name was Tom McQuaid-- you said your daughter hadn't come home from a sleepover over at Braelyn Charbanneau's. Is that still the story? I mean, has Tegan still not come home or called or anything?"

"Yes." Ms. Wyght had stopped seeming so rude, and she was starting to listen more intently.

Tom, however, took no notice and turned his head to Doug. He had no idea how to go on with this. Doug had an inkling of an idea.

"Ms. Wyght, are you aware that you're daughter has a boyfriend?"

"I have a hard time believing that," Ms. Wyght said quietly. "I make it quite known to her that I don't like-- I don't approve of boyfriends at her age. I don't think she's matured enough yet."

"Well, we've spent the last so many weeks hanging out with your daughter, Ms. Wyght," Doug told her. "You're gonna have to believe us when we say that we have... been a firsthand viewer of what goes on between her and Damian Savage."

"Damian Savage is her boyfriend?" Ms. Wyght asked, raising an eyebrow. "Once again, Tegan would never go behind my back. Either way, Damian and his family live just down the street. I don't like him, but he seems like a nice enough kid." Tom snorted. Ms. Wyght looked annoyed. "Either way, what does this have to do with why you've come here? I don't think a cop's top priority is to report to a parent that her daughter has a boyfriend-- which I still don't believe, by the way."

"Ms. Wyght, Tegan didn't spend the night over at Braelyn's last night," Tom told her bluntly.

At this, Ms. Wyght snorted. "Yea, and I'm a supermodel." She coughed once. "I'd really appreciate it if you boys would tell me what you're doing here."

"We're being serious, and you'd understand if you just gave us that chance to explain," Tom claimed. "She showed up at our house around-- what, Doug, ten o' clock?"

"Something like that," Doug nodded. "Maybe Ten thirty. Maybe eleven. I can't remember."

"Well, somewhere around then," Tom said, turning his attention back to Ms. Wyght, who had an eyebrow raised.

"Huh," she said simply.

"Huh, what?" Doug asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Oh, nothing," she claimed, shrugging her shoulders. "You said she showed up at... your house last night? How did she know where you two lived?"

"That's not important right now," Doug said, exasperated. He was starting to wish that she'd just believe them, but he knew that nothing would ever be as simple as that. "Now, we don't know whether or not she went to Braelyn's at first, but the point is she came back to our place, eventually, claiming that her boyfriend-- Damian-- raped her." Doug hesitated. "And she was gone this morning when we woke up."

Silence. The only sound in the room was Ms. Wyght's wheezy breathing, while Tom and Doug stared awkwardly at their shoes. It wasn't exactly the best day of the week when they had to tell someone that their daughter might have been raped, and now that their daughter might be missing.

"Get out," Ms. Wyght muttered under her breath eventually. Tom and Doug looked up simultaneously, both wondering whether they heard her correctly. Ms. Wyght cleared her throat before continuing. "I said get out. Right now. Stop lying to me, and get out of my house." Tom and Doug looked at her, unsure of what to do. "I'll call the police if you don't get out."

Doug snorted. "Ma'am, we are the police."

"Well, then I don't want you here." She picked up Tom's badge again and chucked it him. "Get out of my house. Now."

Without protesting or asking a single question, Tom and Doug filed out of the room, down the hallway, and out the door. They knew full well that Ms. Wyght was right behind them up until the front door slammed behind them, making sure they didn't decide otherwise when it came to leaving her house. However, they were fully content on leaving. This wasn't expected to be a pleasant visit in the first place, it just turned out to be much worse than their expectations.

Tom was all-too aware of the eyes peering at him through the slightly parted blinds as he lowered himself into the driver's seat of his car. He stared blankly at the steering wheel while Doug slammed his door closed.

"Well, isn't she just a ray of fucking sunshine?" Doug muttered, running a hand through his hair.

"Tell me about it," Tom said, digging through his back pockets to find his keys.

"Do I have to?" Doug asked.

"Please don't."

"One step right ahead o' you, Tommy."