Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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Carol Williams stood a few feet away from the mourning family, her hands clasped in front of her, her swollen eyes hidden behind her sunglasses, and she lifted her chin as the family began to walk away. She knew soon she, too, would have to walk away, but for now, she wanted to say a final goodbye to the victim that had lead them to the killer. She had been to six funerals this week, and she had mourned every one of these lost angels. She couldn't stand child killers. Sweeping in and stealing the lives and the innocence from not only the victim but their families. They were sisters, brothers, mothers and fathers who would never be the same.

Ceasar Martinez—her partner, her brother, her best friend—stood beside her. He wore sunglasses as well, but he wasn't crying. His heart went out to the families, but he tried to keep that darkness away from himself. He didn't want to bring that home with him, not to his little girl and wife. He already brought home enough, so this stayed at the office and with his partner. She cried at every funeral, and he stood by her side. As he always would.

They left the funeral last, Carol had placed some flowers on the headstone, and Caesar had left a small metal cross by the headstone as he always did when the murders were brutal. He wanted them to know they were being guided to a better place. It helped him sleep at night. Sometimes. This case would stay with them like a scar. A scar on their hearts and their minds.

The drive to Carol's apartment was silent. There were no words to fill the silence on days like this, and they were both exhausted—physically, mentally and emotionally. They had worked to the bone to find this son of a bitch, and now they could rest. At least for one night, and maybe tomorrow would be better.

"Do you want to come over for dinner?" Caesar asked as he stopped the car in front of her apartment. "We're having that casserole you love so much."

"No, but thank you."

"You sure? It's gonna be good."

"I'm sure. Tell the Andrea I said hey, and kiss your little girl for me." She slipped out of the car. "Drive safe."

"Always do, Williams." He smirked as she closed the door and stepped back. "Bye."

"Bye." She tossed a wave over her shoulder and climbed up the stairs to her apartment. She removed her jacket and threw it on the couch, running her finger over the spines of the books on her shelf, finding the album. She plucked it out and set it on the coffee table, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and taking a seat.

"Pppt." She blew air out of her lips and flipped open the cover, running her eyes over the obituaries on the pages then she turned the pages until she found a vacant space. She opened the wood box on her end table and pulled out the obituaries from this murder. She placed them gently onto the page and smoothed the plastic cover over their small smiling faces. She had lost half a dozen kids to this monster and that bastard was rotting in prison where he belonged. She couldn't hope for anything more.

Cracking the seal on her water, she tipped it back and chugged it. It wasn't what she wanted, but she had been over ten years sober, so it would be one hell of a setback if it was what she wanted. She swallowed and sighed, leaning back on the couch and staring briefly at the ceiling. She closed her eyes and listened to the city. It wasn't at all calming. It was loud and chaotic and horrifying—she loved it. She loved every second of it, because she got the chance to make people feel a little safer. There were still plenty of killers out there, but that just gave her a reason to wake up in the morning. She knew she wouldn't get them all, but she was going to do her best to try.

She shifted on the couch and blew out a slow breath, running her hands over her face. She was utterly drained by this case. She had stayed up so many nights to try and find some tiny shred of evidence that would lead them to the killer. She looked over the pictures and bodies so many times. The images wouldn't leave her head now, and she wanted a drink. She needed a drink so badly, but she wouldn't succumb to the urge. She had to keep her mind clear. She had to do it for him. She had to keep sober for him.

She stood up and opened her eyes, entering her kitchen to prepare something for dinner. She would figure out what sounded good after she made a salad. She rolled up her sleeves and loosened a button on her blouse, grasping the thick locket underneath and lifting it up to her lips—a silent vow she made every day.

She opened the fridge and pulled out some fresh vegetables, her eyes drifting to the end table where the picture of them used to be. She'd lost a lot of things as a cop. She just couldn't cope with his loss.

She sighed for probably the hundredth time today and cleared her mind. It'd been twelve years, and there wasn't a second that went by that she didn't want to go back in time and change the events of that day. She would always remember it. It was etched into her body and soul; her mind cruelly and relentlessly playing the events that lead up to that fatal moment on a loop every night. Night after night she would save him, night after night she found a different way to go about that case, and night after night she hated herself for letting him go. Obsession and rage made her stupid, and stupid got him killed. She would never let that happen to anyone else. That day drove her forward, and ever since she kept the obituaries of every man, woman and child who lost their lives while they searched for the murderers as a reminder, as motivation. She would never let anyone down as she had let him down. Never.

– – –

"Daddy's home!" Keira informed the house, slipping off the couch and bolting to the door.

Andrea looked up from the seemingly endless paperwork as her husband entered the house, dropping to his knees to pick up their seven-year-old and embracing her, as he did every time he came home. She set her pen down and rose out of the chair, smiling at the sight of them, and he carried Keira over to her and kissed her.

"Welcome home."

"It's good to be home." He smiled. "How was your day?"

"Hectic, but someone brought in pastries so I couldn't complain with my mouth full of danish." She crossed her arms. "I didn't get a chance to start dinner; I've been drowning in paper work. I'll make it tomorrow night. Sorry."

"No, it's fine." It's a good thing Carol didn't come over then. "Well, I'm going to wash up so we can make dinner for you, and you can tell me about your day, baby." He set her down. "Go wash up."

They waited until she was upstairs to speak about the case. Andrea knew this case had been hard on him, and she knew by the nightmares he had been having lately it wasn't just going to go away now that the killer had been caught and justice had been served. It never ended in the courtroom for him. He cared deeply about each victim, even if he tried to separate himself from them. Their previous case was open and shut, and the girl had been rescued, but not this time.

"How was the service?"

"The same as always." He rolled his sleeves up and washed his hands, as if to scrub this case off. "I gave the family my condolences and stayed by Carol."

"Caesar—"

"She was a year older than Keira," he whispered. "All I could see was Keira in her face, and I thought if I was the one to arrest that son of a bitch, he wouldn't make it to the precinct. I would have—"

"You wouldn't have killed him," Andrea interrupted him. "You're a good man, and you would have done the right thing."

"I don't know that."

She wrapped her arms around him from behind and held him. "But I do."

He exhaled deeply, frustratedly, and then he set his hands over hers. "I hope you're right."

"I'm always right when it comes to you." She smirked, not minding his wet fingers.

He turned in her arms and grasped her waist, his forehead brushing hers, and his eyes closed. "You'll have to keep reminding me."

"Which: that I'm always right or that you're a good man?"

"Both."

She set her hands on his cheeks. "I love you, and I am always here for you."

He turned his head and kissed her palm, opening his eyes. "I can't thank God enough for putting you in my life." He kissed her lips, and her arms slid around his neck. He always felt better after coming home to them. It was as if they cleansed him with their unconditional love. He would never let anything happen to them. That was the one vow he would always keep. Along with his wedding vows, of course.

Andrea pulled away, hearing Keira on the stairs. "Don't worry about him anymore. He's where he belongs."

"So am I."

She rolled her eyes but smiled. "I have paperwork. Get to cooking. I'm starving."

"I need my sous chef."

Keira jumped off the last step. "I'm here!"

He picked her up and set her on the counter. "Now we can begin." He tossed a pepper at her, and she caught it, giggling. She was glad her dad was home. It was always fun when they were all home together.

––

At nine o' clock there was a knock on the door, Andrea and Caesar were curled up on the couch, going over one of her files and having a laugh. They knew who it was, so Andrea gave him a kiss and told him to try and slip into bed quietly, and he stepped out, meeting Carol at the bottom of the stairs. He didn't speak, just fell into step beside her.

Every night Carol needed a walk, they took one down the street—four or five if she needed—to clear the thoughts swarming her mind, and to keep him from falling down the same path as her. Sometimes they spoke of issues, sometimes of unimportant nonsense, teasing and laughing, and sometimes it was silent, the night air all they needed as they wandered forward. He always knew what kind of night it would be by the look in her eyes, and tonight was issues. He had some to share, but he always let her go first. He had ranted last time, and he owed her anyhow.

"How's Keira?" Carol inquired, turning toward him slightly as they ambled down the sidewalk.

"She's great. She wants to learn how to play the cello though."

"Really? Whatever for?"

"She found one in Ty's music shop and just became obsessed with the thing." He chuckled. "Andrea's considering it. I'm okay with it either way."

"How old is she now? Six?"

"Seven."

"Big girl."

"Yeah." He glanced at her. "You all right? You don't usually bring up Keira."

"Well, I should know how my goddaughter's doing, don't you think?" She smiled. "And don't start asking me how I am. I'm fine. It's been...a long couple of days, but I'm fine."

"How could you be?" Caesar locked eyes with her, and they stopped walking. "I'm not. When we found those bodies...those kids... I'll never forget that moment." His eyes seemed to darken under the pale streetlamp lights. "I saw you today. You're not fine."

She sucked in a shaky breath. "Fine, I'm miserable and struggling. Are you happy?"

"No." He shoved his hands into his pocket. "The thought of what happened... I still have nightmares. I let you down, Carol, and I can never make up for that."

She knew this wasn't just about their latest case. It was about what happened then, and he assumed this case triggered something in her. It had, but he should never have even entertained the thoughts he was having. "Caesar, no, it wasn't your fault. I don't blame you. I never blamed you." She set a hand on his shoulder. "I don't want to talk about this, but I don't need you to know that what happened was in no way your fault. You didn't follow us, and you sure hell didn't pull the trigger."

"I might as well have." His deep brown eyes held a sorrow that she hated to see.

"It's...been twelve years," she whispered. "There's no moving on, but...I think we're getting stronger, and he would be proud of that."

He sucked in a deep breathe, his eyes glossy under the streetlights, and he chuckled humorlessly. "Shit, I didn't meant to bring this up."

"I know."

He cleared his throat. "Let's go get a coffee. Decaf, though. I gotta get up pretty early and take Keira to school."

"I'll buy."

"And a slice of pie?"

"Don't push your luck."

He laughed, and she cracked a small smile. It was a nice night for a walk and some coffee. It was better than what she used to do at nine. She was glad Andrea let her borrow Caesar. She used to go out with Andrea, but now they had Keira and Andrea got a promotion that worked her to the bone, so it was easier for Caesar to come out most nights. On a few occasions, Andrea joined her. Their conversations weren't about kids or work, but of life and the future. Carol didn't come early enough to see Keira. She would have to remedy that. She missed that little angel. Maybe tomorrow.

How many maybe tomorrows was she going to use until she actually went over there? She gripped her locket, brushing her thumb over the engraving on the back, taking small breaths. She was never one to talk about the past. It had proven how cruel the world could be.