Hey guys! I had this idea stuck in my head, pounding against my skull, forcing it's way out and I just had to write it! :) So, random update on my life, It's March and it's like 598612340620387 degrees out. Not really, right now it's morning and it's like 61 degrees but it feels like summer and if you don't wear shorts you literally pass out and it's amazinggg(: I love summer weather! So I'm in a really good moodddddddd:D

In other news, I saw The Hunger Games movie at the midnight premiere! It was epicepicepicepicepicly AMAZINGG;D You should go see it. No jokee. :D

Anyway, enjoyyypleaseeandrevieww(:

"You don't want to do this," he said, staring her straight in the face angrily, defiantly. "You know you don't."

"Mal, you know I don't want to, and I know I don't want to, but in the end it isn't what I want. It's what I have to do, and what I have to do is this. I'm sorry, Mal. You're fired."

3 Months Ago

"Say it again!" Mal yelled. "Say it again! One more time, and you're worms' meat!"

"Mal, I'm just saying you're horrible at relationships. You haven't been in a long-term relationship ever and then with Sandra…" he faltered under Mal's glare for a minute before regaining his composure. "I'm just saying, Mal. You're a player."

He was on the ground before the word was even out of his mouth. The mayor walked in and saw his son unconscious, Mal standing over him, fist raised.

His look was grim.

Present Day

Mal walked out of the captain's office and into his own to look through his minimal belongings he kept there. There was a picture of his sister, holding his niece after she was born. A box of old evidence that turned out to be useless, but still reminded him of the past, and so he kept it. There were his car keys and his wallet lying on his desk. That was it. That was all he carried as left the SFPD precinct for the final time that day.

He pulled away slowing, belongings in the trunk of his car. He took the long way back to his apartment, driving by Fisherman's Wharf, where he and his uncle used to fish when he was little. He smiled in reminiscence. The memory was shattered as he saw police cars and officers surrounding something lying on the ground on the dock. They were packed tightly around it, studying it intensely, but something peeked out around their feet. An arm.

Of course, the Maskmaker Case was still in session. The serial killer that took red-headed girls and put plaster masks over their faces. They still hadn't caught the sicko.

Out of habit, he stopped his car and walked over. They didn't see him immediately so he observed what officers had been dispatched to check out the new victim.

Ken, Anna, Phil, and Eric, who was a lab geek but probably came to get evidence samples, were here. And one other woman. Mal didn't know her. She was dressed in business attire. She had medium-length, glossy brown hair and a matching pair of eyes. She was the first one to tear her eyes from the body of the dead girl and spot him first. She was the first one to break the circle the officers had formed and walk over to him, extending her hand.

"Hello," she said in a melancholy voice. "I'm Special Agent Natara Williams. And you are?"

"I'm Detec-" he faltered. "I'm Mal Fallon." They shook hands.

She gave him a curious look. "Are you with the SFPD? Are you a detective? Or an officer?"

He gave her a sad smile. "No."

Her tone turned brisk and caught him off-guard. "Then I'm sorry sir, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave. This area-" she gestured to the yellow police tape "-is strictly off limits at the moment."

He groped for a comeback but couldn't think of a reason to lose his temper at this woman, who called herself Natara. She didn't know anything about him or his predicament. Nobody did.

"Mal!" Ken saved him from struggling for words. "Hey buddy, did you see this yet?"

He gave an undeserving smug look to Natara and strode over.

"Woah," he breathed. "This…oh my God. What happened?"

"The Maskmaker," Ken answered. "I'm surprised Captain didn't put you on the case. She started a Maskmaker Task Force…even called in the FBI." He gestured to Natara. "I thought you'd be in charge of the whole thing. You're, like, Captain's best detective."

"Wait," Natara strode over.

Shit, Mal thought. C'mon Natara, no. Don't. Please.

"I thought you said you weren't a detective."

"Of course Mal's a detective. Top detective in the SFPD, lady," Ken's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean he said he isn't?"

Mal sighed. "I'm not."

"Mal, you didn't get…"

"Captain fired me today."

Natara scrutinized him. "You got fired? Why?"

"None of your business," he answered harshly.

"I almost got fired a little while back," she retorted with brutal honestly in her voice, taking Mal aback once again.

"What? How?"

"Oh," she smirked. "You can ask me, but I can't ask you? I accidentally shot my partner."

"Damn," Ken laughed lightly. "Glad you aren't my partner."

Mal hesitated. Ken was still laughing and Natara had taken to staring at him, as if trying to figure him out. He felt as if she was looking for more than why he was fired though. She was trying to piece together his whole life, his whole past, maybe even his whole future. He finally decided on the truth.

"I punched the mayor's son."

Ken suddenly sobered up and Natara smiled slightly.

"Doesn't sound as bad as my story."

"Mal, you're my buddy, and you know I don't mean this as an insult, but you're an idiot."

Natara smiled wider. "Well you can help us here if you want."

Ken shook his head, "Captain will kill me. You too. Mal can't help."

"Really? We have no leads, no clue as to what this guy is thinking, and no idea what to do next. If he can figure something out, I'm sure she'll be grateful," she said angrily before turning back to Mal and softening her tone. "Would you like to help, Mal?"

His insides unexpectedly fluttered when she said his name and he brushed it off and nodded eagerly. "I'd be happy to help. Detective Mal Fallon at your service."