Alright, This disclaimer goes for this chapter and all following it.

I do not own this television series, the scripts, or the characters. I am not making any money off of this. CBS, PAX, Paramount etc own the rights. I am just doing this for fun. Got that?

Secondly, this is my first DM fic, so please be kind. BTW If the plot is transparent, don't mind it. I'm really not attempting to disguise anything.

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Steve looked at his purchase with far too much satisfaction. It would truly be just revenge on the prank Jesse had pulled on him. Really, paying his barber to dye his hair green was childish, even for Jesse. So, when Jesse had conned him into purchasing a new frame for a photo that Jesse had broken the frame on, Steve thought it high time to wreak revenge.

A trip down to a local photography shop earlier in the week had been just the ticket. In a box of just arrived frames, there was a very large, very heavy, very ugly mirrored picture frame with gold gilding. It was hideous, and Jesse paid full price for it.

It was a nice picture, much too nice for the frame Steve had it put in. It was a picture of the four of them standing around after yet another successful case. One which, miraculously, none of them had gotten shot/beaten/maimed/kidnapped on.

With a quick stride he tracked down Jesse in the doctor's lounge having coffee with Amanda and his Dad. Jesse looked up from his position in a chair.

"Hey, you got it done already. Let me see it."

Obligingly, Steve handed the brown paper, wrapped parcel over to its new owner. Jesse ripped enthusiastically into the package.

"Its…"

"Hideous?" Amanda remarked.

"I would have gone for distasteful, myself." Mark said as he tried desperately to hide his smile.

Before Jesse could say something appropriately scathing, Steve's phone went off.

"Sloan."

"Yeah…"

"Yeah…"

"I'll be right there."

He looked over at the rest of the gang.

"We've got a homicide down by the pier. I've gotta go down and check it out. I'll see you later. Enjoy the frame Jesse."

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Steve frowned as the body was loaded up and taken to the ambulance. The man, Homer Garlin, was a fencer for stolen property for a local crime family. Steve had just seen him two weeks ago when he was working on another case. The man had seemed tired of his life of crime. He'd talked about reforming. He'd told Steve that he had some information about some of the higher ups in the organization. Apparently, those "higher ups" had found out and killed him.

"You okay Lieutenant?" A bubbly voice buzzed in his ear.

"I'm fine." Steve eyed the latest member of the homicide team. Jackson Peters was fairly good looking. He was three inches shorter than Steve with black hair and brown eyes, and he was more annoying than Jesse, CJ, and Dion on simultaneous sugar highs. Steve had been assigned to "break him in" while his partner was on vacation.

"Too bad about that guy. Do you think his family did him in?"

"We won't be able to know until the autopsy comes back. Look, why don't you finish up here, and I'll go work on some paper work back at the station. There's not much else I can do here right now."

"Sure thing Lieutenant."

Gritting his teeth, Steve went back to his truck. For once, he was thankful that he had paper work to do.

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The next night Steve was just cleaning up the counter at Bob's when Amanda came in. She handed him a folder.

"Here's the autopsy report for Homer Garlin."

"That was fast." Jesse commented from his place on a stool.

"Actually, it was a bit slow coming back, but I needed to have something checked out. Its been slow in pathology the last few days."

Steve flipped through the pages of the report and stopped. "This say what I think it does?"

Amanda nodded. "The bullets that killed Homer are consistent with those of a police handgun. Of course, we can't be certain that it was a police officer that shot him or even if it was a police sidearm."

Jesse sighed. "That isn't exactly very good news. I mean, what if there's a cop running around playing vigilante?"

"If it was a cop, Jesse, he or she is probably working for Homer's crime family." Steve remarked from behind the counter. He shook his head and continued. "In any case, I don't think this is going to be easy."

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Two weeks later, Steve was more confused and clueless than he was when he started. There had been too many dead ends. The only good thing was that Cheryl had come back from her vacation, relieving him from babysitting Jackson, except when he had to work on Homer's case.

All of his late night talks with his Dad, all of Jesse's witty comments, and all of Amanda's input had succeeded in gaining him nothing but a group of angry crime syndicate members. The one person who even hinted at knowing about a police officer and a gun had shown up missing when he went to talk to him that morning.

Of course, it hadn't helped the situation that on his way back from the secluded "secret" meeting spot his truck had broken down. He had to hike two miles to the nearest house to get some coolant for his overheated radiator.

Although he had called to say he was going to be late, the Chief was still miffed at him. After a day of chasing up assignments, he'd gotten back to the station to find "Important Documents" that he needed to do ASAP. Shaking off Cheryl's offer to help, he had sent her home and stared at his documents. Groaning at all the work he had to do, he called home and left a message on the machine that he wouldn't be home for supper. At least, he thought, its Jesse's night to work at Bob's.

Two hours later, he was staring at the information he'd gathered on the Homer Garlin murder. He had the nagging feeling that he was missing something important. He had files of information, but no solution, feasible or otherwise. Disgusted with himself, he shoved the files into a stack and started filling out the reports the chief had given him to do.

With a yawn, he glanced up at the clock on the wall. Ten minutes past midnight. Rubbing his eyes, he stood up to go home.

Two feet from his truck a grating voice called out to him. "Lieutenant!"

Annoyed, Steve turned around to look at Jackson Peters. Before he could say anything, Jackson started talking.

"We think we've found something down at the pier that could help with the Garlin murder. Do you want to come down and check it out with us?"

Steve fought off his annoyance with the new detective. Of course he wanted to see the new development. It was his case. All he said was, "Sure, I'll meet you down there."

Tired as he was, Steve didn't ask what the development was, nor who "us" was. Vaulting into his truck, he followed after Jackson.

Steve bit back a growl as he jumped out of his vehicle. He'd fallen behind Jackson in traffic. Now, he was at the pier, but Peters was nowhere in sight. Muttering to himself, he stalked down towards the end of the pier. Surprisingly, he could see a small boat floating about ten yards away. It looked like it was weighed down with a bunch of discarded items.

Suddenly, a hand clamped over his mouth, and his hands were pinned behind his back. A chilly laugh penetrated the air.

"Ah, Lieutenant, I see you've met Sal and Sam. They might not plot well, but they are very good at subduing healthy, athletic types like yourself." Jackson walked in front of him with a cocky grin.

"You see, you were just getting a touch too close in your investigation into poor, departed Homer. I couldn't have that now could I?"

Steve glared at him as his gloved hands came to collect his badge and his gun.

"You see that boat out there? That's Sal's boat. He does some hauling of, shall we say, controlled substances for a few business men he knows. He dumps them inconspicuously in the ocean, a little farther up and farther out from the coast. That's where your body will be."

 "Of course, I can't have your father poking around, so I'm going to take your badge and your gun. Then I'm going to mail them to your father with a note saying basically that you're dead and that's what happens when you cross the family. Naturally, I'll have it attributed to the other family in town. You know, 'Killing two birds with one stone'?"

"Oh, naturally, he'll look for your body. He'll try to find your killer, but he'll stop. He'll stop because what he's going to find is a mountain of evidence linking his beloved son to the murder of Homer Garlin. Whether he believes it or not, he'll stop because he won't want his son to have his reputation marred by the accusation of organized crime. And that's what'll happen if he pushes too hard. The papers will be filled with the news, and your life will be spat upon by the LAPD's finest."

"I'd kill you right now, but I can't have any forensic evidence of blood hanging around. So, Sam is going to give you a nice breath of ether and tie you up. Then, Sal is going to dump you overboard and have you literally sleeping with the fishes. I am going to drive your truck off in another direction and leave it there. You really shouldn't have given me that ride the other day. Now I have a reason for my hair to be in there."

"Bye, Lieutenant."

Jackson walked off listening to Steve endeavor to struggle against his captors as they poisoned him.