A/N: One of the things I always liked about the show was getting to see Chris and Rita interacting with other detectives and other friends. I especially liked that Rita was someone who had a number of close female friends from different areas of her life. This story explores that theme, and gave me a chance to write about Chris and Rita as they are seen through an outsider's eyes. It takes place generally around the end of Season 3, but there aren't any real spoilers. And it has some broad similarities with aspects of the case in Natural Selection (Season 4, eps 1 and 2), which is just me taking a bit of inspirational liberty from the screenwriters; the story isn't about that crime or those episodes.

Chapter 1:

Rita was pinching the bridge of her nose, taking deep breaths, trying to keep the tears from flowing. She was sad, yes, but more than that, she was angry. It was the anger she was trying to keep in check. Seeing this, Chris wove his way down the beach, through the cops who seemed to multiply exponentially whenever a particularly gruesome crime scene needed processing. As he pulled up next to Rita, she gave her head a small shake and settled her sunglasses back on her face.

Chris gently placed the palm of his hand on her back. Leaning his forehead on a spot just above her ear, he said softly, "Sammy, if you need to take a break from this case, no one will judge you. Why don't you go home for the day?"

"No, Chris." Rita nearly spat. She wasn't mad at him, but he was here, and so he bore the brunt of her anger. "When we catch this monster, I'm going to be right there putting cuffs on him. And until then, I'm going to be at work, trying like hell to make this guy squirm. To let him know he's being hunted."

Chris nodded. "Okay, Sam."

Rita's voice was still hard, but now more clearly out of anger at the world and not at Chris. "She was so young. And new to the streets. I'd just started seeing her around Night Moves a few weeks ago. I hadn't had much of a chance to talk to her, but she seemed sweet, you know? Just… just… she just needed a little direction… a little more prodding and I think she would have been willing to give social services a try." Rita turned away from the water, looking back at the parking lot. Surveying the scene of gawking on-lookers and crime scene processors. Trying not to look at the mutilated girl who'd been discovered under the pier; the girl she knew only as Chloe.

Night Moves was the teen runaway center Rita volunteered at a few nights a week, her day job permitting. She had a cop's knack for keeping her cool and her emotional distance when the teens lashed out, but she also had a big heart and the eternal optimist's belief that she could reach most of them with enough time and effort. As Chris often said of her, she was a sucker for strays. She'd spent a little time in the care of social services herself as a child, after her parents had died. She knew what it felt like to be at the mercy of bureaucratic forces and grief too big for a child to bear. But she also knew the good that could come when caring people worked in the system. After all, she was a success story. She'd ended up with the Lances as her foster family, and she'd come out the other side of trauma stronger for it.

Now here she was, bearing witness to Chloe's pain. Chloe was the third young woman in six weeks to show up sexually assaulted, mutilated, and tossed on the beach like yesterday's trash. Rita had known the first girl as well. She and Chris had responded to the call about a "DB" on Riviera Beach just two days after Rita had gotten the girl—Jenn—a referral to a half-way house… a referral Rita would soon enough learn Jenn had never followed through on.

Here at this latest crime scene, at a beach north of Pinewood Park, the forensics team had gotten all the photos they needed with the scene as it had been found by the witnesses who'd called it in, and the Medical Examiner had taken her preliminary notes. They had Chloe in a bag and on a stretcher now, wheeling her to the ambulance that would take her back to the station so Keisha could complete her examination of the body there. As she walked by Chris and Rita, Keisha stopped to console her friend. "We'll get this bastard, Rita." She squeezed her arm. "I'll let you know the second my report is ready."

"Thanks, Keisha," Chris and Rita said in unison.

As Keisha and her team left the scene, Chris turned his attentions back to his partner. He knew Rita was strong and could handle pretty much anything. But that didn't mean she didn't feel things deeply. And sometimes she got a little too emotionally invested in a case. How could she not? They all did on occasion. So he worried about her. They hadn't had much luck on this one so far, with the few leads they'd caught early leading them only down dead ends. Their nerves were frayed.

"Look, Sam," he said matter-of-factly, grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her toward him, "the uniforms are canvassing the remaining witnesses. You and I have talked to the guys who found Chloe. We've done what we can do here. Let's head back to the shop and talk to Cap. He's been driving me crazy anyway, calling me every five minutes asking for updates. Let's get away from this mess and start working Chloe's case. Ok?" He wanted to get Rita into detective mode to allow her to distance herself a bit from the brutality of the morning so far. Working and feeling like she was doing something useful would help her process the pain.

"Ok, Sam," Rita sighed as she started walking to the car. She appreciated Chris's concern for her, but she was too raw to show it. She had to keep her armor up. She reached the car quickly, let herself into the passenger side of their standard issue Ford interceptor sedan, and waited impatiently for Chris to get them back to the station.