Hi. I've been gone from FF for a long time. Actually, that's not entirely true. For the last 10 months I've been silently collaborating with another author here, and that author's enthusiasm has become contagious. I can't guarantee I'll update this daily or anything, but this was a story that came from a LOT of watching "SVU" at work and brainstorming. I hope you enjoy. Your views, reviews, favorites, and DM's will fuel this. Please hit me with your ideas. Oh, and some of the characters who have one name on WWE television will have two here. For example, "Elias" would be "Elias Samson." If you ever need clarification, please ask.

I don't own these characters. WWE does.

The Department. Prologue. "Fuck that Tree."

"It needs to either rain harder, or not rain at all," Dean Ambrose mumbled to his partner. "Because this drizzle is horseshit."

"Would you call it the 'drizzling shits'?" His partner replied, in a much more cheerful tone.

Dean glanced over to the gorgeous woman occupying the passenger seat of his police cruiser. "Yes, Naomi, I would."

The woman grinned at him, elbowing him playfully. "Cheer up, Ambrose. Our shift's almost over, it's been quiet, and it's almost Christmas."

"It's December third," Dean spat in return. "And Renee took all the Christmas shit after the divorce went final. Even the tree."

Naomi took a second to process this. "Even your tree?"

Dean nodded woefully. "Yeah, it was this badass fake tree that already had all the lights and shit on it. Gone."

"Wow, sounds like you really love that tree."

"Fuck that tree," Dean barked in response. "It just...it's finally sunk in that it's over, ya know?"

Naomi wasn't sure how she should react. She was in an awkward situation, having known both Dean and his ex wife Renee before everything went bad. On one hand, she'd heard Renee's side of the story many times, over post-work margaritas. It was almost entirely Dean's fault, seeing as how he'd become obsessed with his latest murder case, and trying to link it to a series of similar murders across Titan City. Yet Naomi felt overwhelming sympathy for her forlorn shiftmate. Being a cop was really tough on anyone who had a family. She herself was only able to make it work because her husband, Jimmy, had a large family that helped with things like childcare. Naomi had never even heard Dean mention family, so she assumed he was on his own.

She flashed Dean a sympathetic look, and placed her hand on Dean's, patting it platonically.

"You know you're always welcome at the Fatu house for Christmas." Naomi said.

Dean, in a rare moment of vulnerability, gave his partner a tight lipped smile. "Thanks, Naomi. I might take you up on that. What does Toa want for Christmas?"

Naomi couldn't hide her smile this time. "He's obsessed with toy cars. He loves matchbox. You don't have to get him anything, but if you do, Target has a five pack of race cars that I know he'd love."

"Target, matchbox, five pack," Dean repeated. "Copy that."

Naomi had a snappy response all ready to go, but she was cut off by the dispatch radio coming to life.

"All patrol, be advised, we have a possible 'two eleven' in progress at Saturn convenience store. Twelve eighty seven west Finlay street. That's in south Titan proper."

Dean shook his head. "Of fucking course it'd be right now, with two hours left on our shift. Fuck!" He let go of that last obscenity as though it were on fire, before reaching toward the radio receiver on his lapel. "Dispatch, this is seventy David, we are currently on South Finlay, should we respond? Over."

Dean made a face at Naomi, causing her to giggle. Despite his rough exterior, Naomi loved having Dean as a partner. She was already married when she'd met him at the academy, and as a result she'd been the only female on campus Dean hadn't tried to have sex with. In fact, Dean met his now ex wife at the academy. Though she'd been an aspiring district attorney, observing cadets go through their training as part of a required course for their certification. Naomi loved Dean, precisely because she hadn't ended up in his bed, and their partnership was the stronger for it.

The radio crackled to life again. "Seventy David, this is dispatch. Proceed to intercept. There are three David's en route to assist with response. Over."

Dean grinned. "David" was code for "squad car." Dean had no idea why, but that was how it had always been. "Seventy David" was the call sign for Naomi and him, and he took solace in knowing that other units would be waiting for him.

"Copy that. Seventy David on route."

"Light em up," he mused at his partner, who grinned and reached for a switch on the dashboard.

Their police cruiser roared to life with blue lights and loud sirens as Dean pulled out of the parking space they were occupying.

Several blocks later, Dean Ambrose and Naomi Knight Fatu swung their police cruiser into the small parking lot of the Saturn convenience store. Dean shook his head, taking a quick look at his surroundings. The recession had hit this area hard, and the once proud middle class area was rapidly declining into a wasteland of drug houses and other havens for petty crime.

"Damn," he muttered. This was the kind of call he dreaded. "Tweaked out meth heads knocking over gas stations and Kwik Marts for forty bucks cash and snacks are always the calls that get you shot."

Stepping out of his squad car, he gave his partner a humorless tight lipped smile and grabbed the small hand held device that allowed him to speak into his cars PA system.

"This is the Titan City police! We have the building surrounded!" That wasn't exactly true, as supporting squad cars were just right that second pulling into the parking lot, but they were close enough to make escape impossible. "Come out with your hands behind your head!"

From his vantage point, Dean could see a pair of figures moving around erratically through the interior of the convenience store. After a tense moment, the first of the figures eased cautiously through the front door. Dean watched intensely as two officers to his left vacated the cover of their squad car to subdue the first perpetrator, who'd come to a standstill and laced his fingers behind his head. The patrolmen quickly led the suspect back behind their police car, handcuffing him and stuffing him in the backseat. After another minute, a second "perp" came out of the store, his hands high. Dean, relieved to have both alleged robbers subdued, quickly walked out into the open parking lot to handcuff and Mirandize the second young man.

"Hands behind your head, kid!" He slowly grabbed one of the young man's arms, forcefully lowering the young criminal's hands behind his back, handcuffing him cautiously.

Continuing speaking, while still paying careful attention to any other threats that might be in the area.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and wi-"

Dean's voice was cut off by a pair of loud POPs echoing through the night air. The young man in front of Dean, who now had his hands restrained behind his back, simply hit the ground, while the other on sight police officers scampered to cover behind their police cruisers. Naomi, seeing her partner hit the ground, called for an ambulance as two responding officers ran deftly toward where they believed the shots had come from. After locating and subduing the third, unknown participant, Naomi kneeled aside her partner, cradling his head and fighting back tears. For a minute, the officers surrounding Saturn convenience store waited anxiously for any sign of life from Dean Ambrose. After a second, the prone officer stirred, as all involved breathed a massive sigh of relief.

"Dean?" Naomi tried not to shout. "Dean, are you okay?"

Dean opened his eyes, slowly. "Fuck that tree," he muttered, before slipping again into unconsciousness...

Dean didn't remember the ambulance ride at all. He didn't remember being admitted to the emergency room or the small team of ER nurses and orderlies that gingerly removed his uniform shirt and now-ruined kevlar vest. The only thing Dean remembered was the twin "pop" sound, and hitting the pavement. As he awoke, however, he noticed that he was no longer anywhere near the aforementioned pavement, and that there were several sets of eyes on him. He immediately recognized his partner, whose worried face grew to relief when she saw his eyes open. He saw his shift captain, Paul Orndorff, with a sober but concerned look on his face, and several of the other officers on his shift. The face he was most interested in, however, was one he'd never seen before. A striking female face, with high cheekbones, piercing eyes, and surrounded by fiery red hair, was gazing down on the ragged Ambrose. As Dean continued to climb back into the realm of the living, he began to make out the words the redhead was trying to convey to him.

"...Can you 'ear me, Officer Ambrose? Officer Ambrose?"

Dean smiled, seeing clearly for the first time the stunning doctor who'd apparently been charged with his care.

"Hey Doc," he half mumbled, still not completely in control of his faculties. "Why can't I feel my legs?"

The doctor shook her head slightly and smiled. "The EMT's gave ya' a sedative. It made the ride o'er much less painful."

Dean raised the arm he could move up to his face. "Shit," he continued, "I am flyin'."

The radiant doctor patted him gently on the arm closest to her. "I'm glad. My name is Dr Lynch, and I'm head of trauma here at Rogers General."

Dean's eyes widened slightly. "Shit, I have trauma wounds?"

Dr Lynch smiled and chuckled again. "That's wha' we're tryin' to figure ou'. You were sho'. Twice. But it doesn't appear that either sho' penetrated your kevlar vest."

Dean grinned, his face a loopy, happy mess of sedated comfort. "Hell yeah."

Dr Lynch shook her head. "You're no' ou' a the woods yet, Ambrose. The bullets didn' get to ya, but t'e impact may have damaged an internal organ. I'd li'e to observe ya for a couple hours."

"Noooo," Dean mourned, his voice still slurring from the pain medication.

Dr Lynch, growing more concerned with Dean, looked around the room at Dean's colleagues. "Has anyone called his emergency contac'?"

Naomi chimed in, though she didn't look particularly happy. "He never updated his 'in case of emergency' after the divorce. When we called his ex-wife, all she said was 'I hope he died slowly' and then hung up."

Dean laughed. "Yeah, I'm divorced. I cheated on my wife with five twelve year old girls." He laughed harder, as though what he said had been the most natural thing in the world. Becky withdrew her hand from Dean's shoulder, her face frozen in horror, as the rest of the room tried not to burst out in laughter. Naomi cut him off, saving him from further embarrassment.

"It's not like he said. At all. He must be REALLY high. He caught a case. Five dead little girls. All twelve years old. He let it get too important. It consumed him. He neglected his wife, his friends, family, everything. Just trying to get a lead on that case. Eventually our Lieutenant took him off the case, but not before his wife left him. Said she didn't want to feel less important that some little girls he never met."

Dr Lynch made a face. "Tha' doesn't seem very fair. It also seems like a lo' of information."

Naomi smiled. "I didn't want you to think he was…"

Dr Lynch grinned and nodded. "I understand. Now." She turned to her disoriented patient. "Do ya have any questions for me?"

Dean smiled mischievously. "What's your first name?"

Dr Lynch smiled, trying not to blush. "Becky. My first name is Becky. Now, is t'ere anythin' I can do to make ya more comfortable, Officer?"

"You can call me Dean," he snickered, trying not to be obvious in his flirting. Before Becky could respond, Captain Ambrose cleared his throat.

"I think we should leave Dean alone, let him rest here tonight." He turned his stern gaze onto Dean. "Take a few days, Dean. A week or so, even. Don't come back to work until you're not sore anymore."

Dean gave his captain an exaggerated thumbs up. "Will do, Cap." With that, his squadmates and captain filed out or Dean's exam room. Becky, however, stuck around another minute, hoping that she could glean a bit more about his frame of mind if she had the chance to talk to him alone.

As soon as the door closed, Becky turned her attention back to Dean, who'd reclined back on the bed, trying to get a bit more comfortable.

"Do ya have any more questions for me, Officer Ambrose?"

"Dean!" He admonished, though it sounded comical in his foggy state.

"Dean," Becky corrected herself, attempting to make the injured young man happy. "Is t'ere anythin' else I can do for ya?"

Dean grinned again. "Are you single?"

Becky rolled her eyes and swatted Dean lightly on his uninjured arm, though she fought desperately to supress her urge to blush.

"I don' date patients, Dean. Why don' we talk again when yer on yer fee'?" She hoped that would cull his advances for now, but if she were being honest with herself, she could do a lot worse. She'd liked how he was built from the moment she'd laid eyes on him, lying prone, his uniform shirt and bulletproof vest cut off. He'd ended up in his blue police issue pants and a knit undershirt, leaving his arms, shoulders, and parts of his chest exposed. "No' bad" had been her first impression. She knew getting involved with a patient, let alone a cop patient, was a bad idea. But Dean Ambrose was, in her opinion, an impressive physical specimen. She was snapped back to reality by Dean's response.

"I'm not a hundred percent sure I'll remember this conversation, but if I do, you can bet on it, pretty lady."

Becky tried to keep a straight face. "T'at's 'Doctor Pre'y Lady' to you, Officer Ambrose." Allowing herself one genuine, toothy grin, she reached over to Dean's IV bag and fiddled with it briefly. "T'ere's some more sedative for ya. Get some res'. We'll do an MRI tomorrow when t'e swellin' is down. If ya check ou' t'ere, ya can go 'ome. Soun' good?"

Dean nodded, the effect of the painkillers beginning to overtake him. "Yeah, Dr Becky, that sounds great…." That was all he managed to get out before succumbing to the soothing, overwhelming effects of whatever magic concoction was currently coursing through his system. All at once, his eyes closed, and he slipped back into the pharmaceutically-enhanced dreamland that had been beckoning him for a while…

Dean Ambrose hadn't had anything seriously wrong with him. The MRI, performed carefully by staff at Rogers General Hospital, revealed no serious damage to Dean's internal organs. But the recovery was taking longer than he thought. The first shot had hit the intrepid Ambrose almost exactly in the center of the chest, which was great, in that his kevlar was strong there. The second shot, however, hit him on the shoulder, on his AC joint, where his collarbone and arm met. His armor had been weaker there, and as a result his bruise had been deeper and his time convalescing longer. It'd taken him almost two weeks to be able to lift his arm on that side over his head, and as a consequence, Dean still wasn't back on the job. Christmas was almost upon Titan City, the streets laden with snow and smiles permanently etched across the face of the more "well to do" citizens, and tonight was Dean's precinct's office Christmas Party. He really didn't want to attend, but Naomi had begged him to be her date. Her husband had taken Toa to see their grandparents for the weekend and wouldn't be back until Christmas Eve, between nine and ten pm. Dean, ever the ladies' man, jokingly tried to convince the voluptuous patrol officer that she had a "hall pass" for the weekend.

"I'm serious, Hey, we could 'get it on' all weekend and Jimmy would never know."

Naomi shook her head. Dean was kidding. She knew he was kidding, and yet her heart still skipped a beat. Dean was exactly the kind of guy she'd have gone for before she'd gotten pregnant with Toa. Jimmy had proposed the weekend they found out, and she was super happy with every aspect of her personal life, but there was a small part of her, like a three percent part of her, who screamed in her consciousness; "take him up on his offer! He's hot! Jimmy won the lottery getting you pregnant. Maybe you should 'play the lottery' too!"

Instead of doing any of that, however, Naomi just smacked Dean on the thigh, hard enough to let him know she was serious.

"No way, Dean. I'm a married woman. And even if I weren't, aren't you talking to the doctor that patched you up after you got shot?"

Dean snickered. "What she doesn't know won't hurt her."

Naomi, for the first time legitimately concerned over her partner's behavior, shifted the car into "park" and slid her hand over Dean's.

"Look, Ambrose, we've been through this. If I hadn't married Jimmy when I did, you and I would one hundred percent be a thing right now. But I did. So please don't even joke about me cheating on my husband. We have a little boy and-"

Dean raised his free hand to stop his partner. "I get it, Nay, relax. I was just fucking around. I mean, your body is out of this world, but I respect marriage, especially one like yours. Give me more credit than that." He chuckled, then continued. "Yeah, I'm texting with Becky. She keeps giving me the 'I dunno, maybe,' though, so if one of these single chicks at the party wants to get 'Ambrose'd,' who am I to argue with them?"

Naomi rolled her eyes, pulled her hand away from Dean's and pulled her car door open, though she didn't get out. "Just come inside. Maybe 'Ms. Right' will be in there."

Dean chortled, unable to believe his ears. "I'd settle for 'Ms. Right Now.'"

It really was a good party. Captain Orndorff had been the host for the last several years, but he'd graciously agreed to step aside and let the party get taken up a notch. This year, the party was at a local dive bar named "Anvil's." The longstanding bar was a favorite of law enforcement around Titan City, and happened to be very near the precinct Dean and Naomi were presently based out of.

The beer flowed freely. Orndorff saw to that. The officers played pool and darts and sang ridiculous drinking songs and Christmas carols. Everyone was happy. Finally, around ten thirty pm, Ray Traylor, Captain Orndorff's second in command, called all the attendees to gather around the bar area.

"Listen up, people! We need to congratulate one of our own!" Most, if not all, of the attendees were puzzled by the large officer's statement. "Dean Ambrose, get up here!"

Though he was clearly drunk, and presently trying to talk the brunette server who'd been waiting on him all night to go home with him, Dean had enough presence of mind to understand that his presence was requested next to Ray Traylor, and Traylor was not a man to be kept waiting. He made his way through the mass of humanity surrounding Traylor, then slid next to the giant man.

"What's up, Ray?"

Traylor grinned at him. "Dean, as of January first, you no longer investigate gas station robberies." Seeing the puzzled look on Dean's face, Traylor smiled and continued. "The Commissioner is putting together a 'Major Crimes' unit, and you've been chosen as one of the inaugural hires for that task force!" Traylor was proud of Dean. They'd worked hard to make him a viable police officer, and any promotion he achieved would look good on their entire precinct. He inhaled deeply, glanced at Dean, and smiled. "Y'all give it up for Dean!"

As the crowded bar cheered loudly for their compatriot, Captain Orndorff glanced over at Naomi, who was standing next to him, her nervousness for Dean too much for her to bear.

"He won't be back, Naomi. He's a fantastic officer. He'll kick ass at Major Crimes."

Naomi smiled back at him, though her heart was heavy for losing the only partner she'd ever had.

"I hope you're right, Captain."

With that, the two officers began slowly making their way to the center of the mass of humanity, hoping to give their congratulations to Dean. If they'd know, however, what Titan City would be in store for for the next two years, they might not have smiled, and Dean might not have taken the new assignment….

COMING SOON: "The Department."

Like I said at the top; I hope y'all enjoy. There will be both "one off" stories and an overarching storyline with a beginning and end. Let me know what you think.