I just cannot seem to quell the muse and so here is another Lethal Weapon piece. This one will be multiple chapters, I am not sure how long just yet. Please review if you have any helpful advice or suggestions. I will be posting at least once a week, however I can be persuaded to post more often if I know there's interest in the story so follows are appreciated and encouraged.

I try to stay as close to the characters motivations and world as I can. We already love this duo so I won't throw anything unbelievable their way.

Takes place one year into Riggs and Murtaugh's partnership.

All mistakes are my own.

I own nothing.

Rope

Martin Riggs could feel the sun piercing though his eyelids, he could hear the surf crashing against the sand, and the remnants of whatever show he had left on the night before.

What he couldn't hear was the gentle sounds of his wife taking her morning shower, tip-toeing around so as not to wake him. He couldn't smell her alluringly comforting scent as she tried her best to kiss him goodbye while leaving him in peace or feel the gentle caress of her lips as she did so.

So many pieces of the mornings he used to take for granted. So many small, yet memorable moments that he could never again experience.

He decided waking was the shittyest part of the day and that this morning he just wouldn't do it. He remained a heap on the small yet familiar couch, his hair swept haphazardly over his forehead. The blanket he had clumsily wrapped himself in as he half sat half fell into his current sleeping position lay on the floor accompanied by the numerous empty beer cans he had demolished for dinner.

The light filtering through the windows finally won out and he reluctantly pried open his eyelids. Still clad in the clothing from the night before he rest his eyes on the counter top across from the couch. The intimate calling of his Beretta 92FS beckoned to him. It's sleek black edges leading to the trigger carried his thoughts to dark place. A place where waking without her would no longer haunt him.

The thought was cut off by the muffled chime of a cellphone, his cellphone. Where the hell WAS his phone? He grunted as he sat upright, the wrinkles in his shirt had left imprints in his skin and his careless sleeping position had gifted him with a crick in his neck.

The sharp tone of his cell called out again, this time Riggs upended the cushions in his frustration. He may have overdone it on the beer the night before, he didn't remember his phone ever being this loud.

The cell clattered to the ground. Martin scooped it up amongst a few choice words and answered.

"Riggs!" He greeted harshly.

"Jeez, Riggs. It's me, wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?"

"Sorry, Rog. Just, no, uhh. Whatcha need?"

"Need you to skip breakfast and head to the scene. We have a body. I will pick you up a coffee on the way, but I have to drop Trish off at work first...car troubles."

"Yeah, sure. Text me the address."

"Already did, see you in an hour."

Martin pocketed the cell and grabbed his Beretta from the counter without looking at it. He pushed the door of his trailer open but stopped short of the first step. He doubled back and grabbed a moderately clean shirt changing hastily on his way to the car.

The crime scene was a buzz with life. Martin realized just how ironic that was as he knelt down beside the body splayed out across the tarmac.

The already bad traffic had been made even worse due to all the gawkers attempting to get their fill of information to pass along in their mundane morning stories amongst co-workers. The press were even worse, filling every nook and cranny the small parking lot had to offer.

Riggs observed the uniforms attempting their best to disperse the crowd along with the press. It didn't seem to be working all that well.

He brought his attention back to the body. Male, he looked young, maybe early twenties. All together he looked rather average.

"Now, what did you do to piss someone off so bad?" Riggs asked the empty space around him.

"Isn't that your job to find out, detective?" Scorsese asked dryly as he placed his forensics kit beside the body.

Martin looked at the LAPD pathologist now kneeling across from him.

"I was actually thinking maybe you could do all the bad guy hunting for today, I kinda wanna finish this great novel I'm reading." Riggs retorted in his soft Southern drawl, a large smile lining his lips.

"I don't think Hustler Magazine counts as a novel." Scorsese shot back, not missing a beat.

"Aw, Scorsese that hurts man." Riggs brought his hand to his chest and feigned physical pain at the jibe. When the pathologist gave nothing but a blank stare, Martin continued. "So what can you tell me?"

After a few moments Scorsese gestured to the subtle marks on the dead man's neck.

"He was strangled, most likely by some kind of rope. I believe the killer came from behind and choked the life from him before he had a chance to realize what was happening. Of course, I won't know for certain until I have completed the tests." Scorsese offered in monotone as he took samples from the rope burns and collar of the dead man. "The bruising indicates a thin, but incredibly resilient rope was used. Again, I will have to test my findings before I can know for sure."

"Climbing rope?" Martin asked aloud without realizing.

"Could be, why?"

"Just a guess." Martin lied.

"Hey, I brought you coffee. I even got you a some fries, you sounded like you needed something to eat." Roger smiled handing Riggs his coffee and fries as he pushed further through the sea of people on scene.

"Don't suppose you brought one of those for good ol' Scorsese?" Scorsese asked sarcastically, already knowing he had been overlooked.

"Oh, er, Scorsese. Sorry man, I didn't realize you would be here." Roger offered in apology attempting to avoid the awkward conversation as he removed the lid of his coffee to allow it to cool faster. Blowing on the hot substance occasionally to avoid Scorsese's glare.

"At the crime scene? Where I work? Every day?" Scorsese dead panned in Rogers direction.

Riggs laughed and cupped his coworkers shoulder in sympathy before dipping a handful of fries in Rogers coffee and downing them in one fell scoop.

"Here, Scorsese, you can have mine. Rog can get me another on the way to the station." He left Roger mouth a gape in embarrassment and frustration.

"Damn it Riggs!" Roger yelled after him.

Martin laughed at his chaotic wake as he threw back a few more fries and headed for his car. He had a good idea of who had murdered the guy and if he was correct, he had an exciting reunion to plan for. he needed to make sure, he had waited a long time to nail this particular asshole and he wasn't going to let him get away again.

Roger made his way to Riggs' desk still half annoyed at his partner. Why he had to make every moment of Rogers existence painful he had no idea. What he did know was that he wasn't truly mad at him, in fact the whole thing had been kind of funny. That, Roger didn't mind at all. After all, laughter was good for a man. He just wished Riggs wouldn't use it to hide what was below all the joking and playfulness.

He knew the man was hurting. He just wanted to be able to read his partner well enough to know if he was about to do something stupid. Not fries in coffee stupid, but really? Who did that? It was the get himself shot kind of stupid that worried Roger.

Riggs was his partner and that meant he was also family. A year wasn't a long time to know somebody, not an average year anyways. But a year on the job, where your life and those around you were in jeopardy too often to count meant getting to know someone on a whole different level.

Riggs would die for him. Hell, he would die for Trish and the kids too. It was weather he would die for nothing that pushed Roger to worry.

"Hey, Scorsese said you said something about climbing rope?" Roger mentioned inquisitively.

"Hmmm, did I? I'm kind of busy here Rog. Can it wait?" Martin answered from behind his computer without looking up. His avoidance of the question didn't go unnoticed.

"Can the murder investigation we just arrived from and that has been assigned to us wait? What's gotten into you today Riggs?" Roger asked in agitation. Riggs behavior was starting to frustrate him more than normal.

Riggs decided to forego a civil conversation and roughly tugged Roger's arm until he was towing behind him. They stopped around a quiet corner beside the restrooms before Riggs gave his explanation.

"Look, Rog. I need this okay, if I let you in on what's going on you have to promise me you won't stop me." Riggs looked desperate, his normally disheveled hair couldn't quite decide which direction to fall, while his brown eyes seemed less vibrant than normal. It was obvious that he had slept in his clothing and the way he had devowered his fries led Roger to believe the man hadn't eaten dinner the night before.

Riggs looked haggard and it was only 10:30 in the morning. If even half of it was caused by something he had discovered at the crime scene Roger owed it to Riggs to hear him out.

"Okay, okay. Let me know what's going on." Roger stated reassuringly, doing his best in attempt to calm his partner.

"His name's Dane Kensington. The sonofa bitch killed six college kids in Texas back in 2012. Decided to hold up a library, a fuckin library Rog. He shot five of em. The last one, twenty year old kid, he did with climbing rope. Strangled her from behind, same MO." Riggs anger was boiling to the surface. He took a second to calm himself, to which Roger was grateful.

"Kensington got out before anyone was even able to alert the cops. Only reason we could tie him to it was because he missed one. A young girl, just twelve, there with her big sister, saw the whole thing. The asshole strangled her sister and she saw the whole fucking thing. Turns out we were able to tie him to three other murders with the same MO, the climbing rope was his quirk."

"So you caught the guy?" Roger offered hopefully. The glare he got in return told him there was far more to the story.

"We should have. The guy didn't have a solid address, he was a drifter. He was gone before we even had people looking. I talked to the kid Rog. The little girl, she was so scared but so damn brave. Gave us everything we needed to nail him, the rest was on us. Only we didn't find him. Ate me alive to know what that kid went through and knowing we let her down, I let her down." Riggs looked down at his hands, his gaze caught on the wedding band sitting around his finger.

"So he's still on the lamb? And now you think he's here in LA?" Roger attempted to redirect Riggs from the darkness pulling on him.

"He came back to Texas a couple years later," Riggs tone became hushed, Rodgers redirection had failed. Martin's eyes clouded as he spoke. "He found the girl Rog and he killed her just like he did the others. We missed him and he did it again. Right under our fuckin noses. She was fourteen Rog!"

"If it's him we just tell Avery and we go get him."

"It's not that simple, after the girl I went after him, hard. I spent every moment I had hunting him down. I got myself suspended and even that didn't stop me. I finally caught up with the asshole three months later in New Mexico. Was holed up in some old bar. The bastard took a hostage, I didn't have a shot. He made me toss my weapon, told me the girl was his favorite kill. I rushed him, but he fired, put two slugs in my upper chest and one in the hostage's head. I almost lost my badge and if it wasn't for..." Martin trailed off his eyes once again captured by the metal holding his finger hostage. "If it wasn't for Miranda I would have lost a whole lot more than the that. I can't be caught anywhere near this and If Avery catches even a whiff of Kensington it will be over before its started. I can't let him get away again!"

Roger let the words sink in. He thought Riggs was reckless now, he had no idea this one went so deep. He had to be careful, Kensington may be too good of an excuse for Martin to finally just give in.

"I'm with you Riggs, but if we do this we do it my way, you hear me? No running into bullets and diving into this head first. We play it smart, you do that and I'm in. Avery doesn't have to know a thing."

Martin's grateful glance was all Roger needed to know he had made the right decision. He only hoped Riggs would listen long enough to stay alive and say thank you by the end of all this. Hell, he hoped he was there to hear it.