Ana had another busy night at Sanctuary. Another several hours of talking, listening, keeping order, providing for people as well as possible, going over inventory and serving as a one-woman hospital... just generally serving as a rock for guests and staff alike.

She wondered, as things finally slowed down, if it ever occurred to people that rocks ultimately had a limited surface area and could in fact be chipped away with enough wear and stress. And realising that she was having such poetically self-pitying thoughts was Ana’s signal that she needed a break.

Damia was willing enough to step up and look after things once actually asked. Ana sometimes wondered about her intelligence, but the woman did understand that Ana never stepped down unless she was truly feeling the need.

Raven Park was small and little used, with the token effort to maintain it coming from volunteer work by local residents. It was a far cry from glamorous, but it wasn’t quite dingy or isolated enough to serve as a nest for the addicts or the gangs. In short, it was just perfect for being alone for a bit.

Ana walked along the dirt path, past the modestly-sized trees and the semi-wild flowerbeds. She actually found the latter to be rather charming; a mix of the natural and civilization. She held her hand out and stroked leaves in passing, before arriving at the roundabout-like centre. The fountain in the middle no longer worked, but at least the locals kept it free of garbage and dead plant matter.

She sat down on one of the benches, beneath low-hanging branches, and unpacked her violin. That damned oversized heart of hers reminded her of the late hour and people sleeping, but she hushed it. It really wasn’t that late and the acoustics of this place weren’t exactly good. At least she told herself that and left the matter as she fitted the instrument to her neck.

The simple fact was that she needed this. And so she played.

Ana abandoned the simple, cheery folk tunes she relied on in Sanctuary and delved deeper into her skills, pulling out emotion and depth, putting her feelings out into the world where they had more space. Or at least she tried to. She felt rusty. Clumsy. No one ever criticised her playing, at least not in a way that wasn’t clearly just bile. But when it came to the complex stuff it always felt like she could do better. Like her hand could move more smoothly, and that there were songs she’s forgotten, depths she could reach if she just strained her mind enough.

But her mind seemed to be strained at all times these days, and although the playing calmed her she still felt vaguely dissatisfied by the time she took a break. That vague feeling in turn gave way to considerable bitterness. This was supposed to be her healing, these moments she took for herself in a life that had come to revolve around living for others.

Don’t do this, she thought, seeking to stop herself before this familiar hole opened fully beneath her feet. Be kind to yourself. You know how to be kind to people.

She took a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly. Ana reached up and plucked a leaf. She crushed it between her fingers and brought it beneath her nose. For a moment the smell of the city gave way to sweet, refreshing nature. Just how long had she wanted to take a trip out into the countryside? It was another thing she genuinely couldn’t remember anymore.

Ana did her little breathing exercise a second time. She started playing again, simply doing her best and managed to hold the dissatisfaction at bay for the most part. By the time the footsteps broke her concentration she thought she might even have managed to forget everything else for a moment. But as with dreams it was a bit hard to tell.

Ana put the violin and bow in her lap and waited to see who was coming. There was no point in pretending she wasn’t here, and the path was fairly noisy to walk on, so it wouldn’t make any difference. Still, the incident in the ruined theatre still haunted her and put her nerves on edge, until a familiar face stepped into the sitting area’s meagre light.

“Inspector Myra,” Ana said neutrally as the woman noticed her exact location. “Is this a coincidence?”

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“No,” the inspector said as she moved a bit closer. “But first let me say: You’re really good.”

“I always feel I could be better,” Ana said in the same tone of voice. “But thank you.”

She packed up the instrument. So much for that little moment of peace.

“So what brings you here?”

“I asked after you in Sanctuary,” the inspector explained. “They told me you would be here. I thought you were just enjoying some quiet or something. My partner is back at the shelter, taking statements, but I wanted to talk to you.”

“And?”

Myra walked all the way over and pointed at the bench.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

Ana did rather mind, but scooted over to the end of the bench all the same. The inspector sat down at the other one.

“I have been put on the Green Bomber case full-time,” she explained. “And I figure a man this mad cannot be living in normal circumstances. He can’t hold on to a job to pay rent, and neighbours would have reported him by now. That leaves me thinking he’s living on the streets. Or in some abandoned structure somewhere.”

“There is a sad abundance of those,” Myra said.

“Indeed. But that’s why I’m here. That kind of living is your area.”

“I can assure you, Inspector, that the Bomber has no friends in Sanctuary,” Ana told her. “Not after what he pulled in the loft.”

“No, I didn’t think anyone was covering for him,” the inspector clarified. “But people often don’t realise that they’re sitting on important information. Moreover...”

The woman took off her fedora and scratched the somewhat messy hair beneath.

“... well, figuring out where he’s NOT will eventually lead to where he IS. And I think you can be of help to me. You know where street people and wandering crazies group together, or can at least find out by asking around. If I can eliminate abandoned places where he isn’t, it’ll save a lot of time and effort. I might even get him before more murders.”

“Hm.”

Ana reached a hand back and rubbed the back of her neck.

“That is an interesting idea, Inspector. But tell me; what landed you on this case?”

“Orders,” Myra said. “I mean, I was on him to begin with, but the chief wanted my undivided attention on this.”

“And what made you join the police?”

“The glamour, high pay and reasonable working hours,” Myra snarked. “What is this about?”

“It’s about me possibly being too hostile the other day,” Ana admitted. “And about you leaping between rooftops while trying to put a stop to the Bomber. You do not strike me as a glory seeker.”

“Glory!” the woman exclaimed and looked away with a humourless smile. “No. Glory is for adventures, isn’t it? Fairy tales and myths of better days in some vague past era.”

“So is fighting the good fight, many would say,” Ana said.

The inspector didn’t seem to know quite what to say.

“I still don’t really get this conversation,” she said after hesitating a bit.

Ana wasn’t sure she herself did either. But she kept going.

“I am merely saying that I fight a sort of fight myself. At least it very much feels like a fight, and there certainly isn’t any glory in it. But I do it.”

The other woman was silent. Ana didn’t know if her point had really been made. Her conversation skills felt much like her playing; stunted and lost in some dark attic. But the inspector did look her in the eyes with what seemed like a certain ease.

“I can talk to the homeless population,” Ana said, shifting back to the woman’s purpose for being here. She raised her voice as the tram got closer. “I will have better luck with them than you or your partner. Do you have a notebook?”

Myra handed it over, as well as a pen. Ana started jotting down locations from memory.

“These are the places I can already tell you he definitely isn’t hiding out in,” she went on. “I can have more soon enough. And...”

“And what?”

Ana chewed on the situation, the pen hovering over the page. She debated with herself whether to bring up the odd scratches and Kylis’s disappearance. She doubted it would do any good, what with the police’s stretched resources and endemic indifference to society’s bottom rung. That damned tram was getting closer, distracting with its noise even though it was out of sight.

“And perhaps you can do me a small favour in return,” she continued hesitantly. “I know you are busy, and you should be until you get the Bomber, but perhaps you can at least keep your ear open for reports.”

“What kind of reports?”

“Reports abou-”

Out of the corner of her eye Ana saw the green flash in the distance.