Chapter 1: The Second and last chance

"There's water rushing in this way, hurry!" Cole panicked.

"Elsa, Biggs, hold onto me tight! We're getting him!" Jack explained.

Elsa and Biggs grabbed and lowered Jack into the sewer with great haste, the mix of fear, worry, and panic ran across everyone's face. It was as if the entire Earth stopped and held its breath, the silence was deafening. As Jack stretched his bloody, agonizingly painful arm to reach Cole, he felt that tug of success.

"I got him! Pull me up now!"

As the two comrades were being pulled up to safety, the sighs of relief and the tears of joy began to flood the area, not even the proud commanding officers of the L.A.P.D could hold back their tears as their disappointment and angst for Phelps melted away. Their hero, their star, their golden boy had been returned to them safe and sound. Elsa nearly pounced on Cole, with makeup running down her cheeks, she held him in a sort of vice-like grip never wanting to let her lover go ever again. Biggs let out a chuckle and a smirk as if to congratulate Cole for surviving the horrific incident, and as for Jack; he laid there in the damp grass panting and holding his arm in pure agony, but as he looked over at Cole being loved and cherished again the pain soon subsided. However as joyful as this reunion sounds, Cole would still have to carry on his life of receiving mundane case after mundane case. The whole department can't dwell in his survival forever. Cole knew that this celebration would be short-lived, and he knew that he'd have to prove himself to the department again, despite the bust of the Suburban Home Fund scandal. While knowing this fully, he recognizes his second chance, he once said that he lacked courage. He carried that burden after the event in Okinawa onward, but now he vowed to become a slave to his own weakness again.

I fully believe in second chances, going through everything that I've gone through...almost bring me somber. I haven't got a family, no other confidants besides Stefan, and my new girl is a junkie. But... she believes in me, and Stefan is the greatest companion an officer or person can have, I don't want to prove anything to anybody. But I have to... in this career. As long as they are with me, I'll take this second chance in full stride.

Chapter 2: Immense Guilt

Exactly two years has past since Cole was so heroically rescued, and everything he'd predicted happened. Everyone had moved on, and Cole was still doing mundane cases, the only dramatic occurrence that has happened is that Elsa has recovered from the intense morphine addiction (or is at least in better state of recovering). Stefan has been promoted to Vice with Roy Earle, the man who the department holds responsible for Coles tragic experience, in fact the only reason why Roy is still standing in his position is because of the many corrupt connections in the law and with gangsters.

Roy keeps L.A. "manageable"in a sense. As complex, vain, opportunistic, and sly as Roy may be; people often forget his side of the story and the underlying fact that he's still a human being with very human emotions. At first glance Roy is a racist, extremely sexist, and snide, but underneath that "shell-of-a-man" exterior lies a terribly hurtful past. His past is what conditioned him to be the man he is today, and his human-ness is what fuels his gut wrenching guilt that constantly torments him about what could've happened to Cole on that day. No one wants to know about that Roy.

For Roy to deal with his own demons, he must adopt something that seems better than himself, hence the fancy suit and expensive car. On the exterior Roy is a successful, handsome, and competent Vice detective. Be that as it may, the crevices of Roys mind are engulfed with neglect and sorrow. From a young age he was taught that feelings were a sign of weakness, and that the only way to succeed is to take what you want, no matter the consequence. As Roy lies in bed by himself, ridden with drunkenness, (as a method for coping with his demon) he tries to calmly drift away to sleep. All knowing that his sleep opens the gate to his tormented past, as if a higher-power is playing a sick game on him. He can still hear the screaming almost every night...

Chapter 3: That poor boy

"I-I can't live like this Dean! You scare the HELL outta me, and you love that damn bottle more than me!" Roys mother exclaimed.

"Don't you DARE speak that way! Remember your place, you're my wife, I own you. And why the hell should it matter if I have a drink?" Roys father answered.

"Dean you get... violent, and you always say that it'll stop but it never does!" Roys mother cries. "Woman I'll stop when I'm good and goddamn READY!" Roys father boasted.

"I-I'm leaving with Roy and-" she hesitantly explained.

"You won't be doing no such thing! Bitch I'll kill you before you try and leave with my boy!" he shouted at her.

"ROY! ROY COME HE-" Dean put both his large man hands around the delicate structure of Roys mothers neck, and started to squeeze tighter with each and every scream. Meanwhile, the nine year old Roy emerges from his bedroom and peeks his little head into the living room archway to see what exactly mommy needs him for.

"Die you bitch! You won't get a hold of MY son!" Dean said enraged.

Roy held back his tears, and urges to scream to let go of his mother, from the years of abuse he's already witnessed he learned that it's best to just stay quiet. Roys mother struggles to gasp for even an ounce of air, she then digs her nails into his forearms, he only squeezes tighter until...

*Snap*

His mother's neck just hangs in the molds of his hands. Roy then scurries back to his bedroom to just lie awake for another hour until the front door slammed, then he makes his way back to the kitchen hoping that his mother is still there. Instead he finds a bloody kitchen floor with a bloody knife on top of the counter. Roys father comes back from disposing of the mother, he then asks Roy:

"Will you be a good boy and help daddy clean this up?"

"...Uh-huh." Roy answers.

The only memento of his mother was the tacky furniture inside the house, how he loved to curl up on the couch with the printed flowers with her, how he loved the comics being read to him in the newspaper on top of that damn cedar coffee table, and he especially loved the the photo frame that sat on top of his nightstand with the picture of his family smiling as if there wasn't a care in the world. As Roy grew older he was convinced that it was his mother's fault for dying, and that women have a definite role in a relationship, after all if she'd kept her mouth shut she'd still be alive right? He recalls himself saying his opinion on "broads" to Cole on his Naked City case:

I love women as much as the next guy, as long they do as their told and stay in their place.