AN: Wow! You guys are absolutely fantastic. So many reviews and follows, it was amazing, especially for a growing fandom. Extra THANK YOU to those who took the time to review, it is always appreciated and I know some authors individually thank each person but I just don't have time, I think you would prefer I use my little spare time to write. At least I hope so! The next chapter should be up sometime next week, it's going to be a little shorter I think…but timely. Heh.
This one went a little off the meaning of the word, but the concept is still there.
Last thing…HAPPY THANKSGIVING to those in the US!
Troth (n): faithfulness, fidelity or loyalty; truth or verity
It had been more than two days since she had talked to him last. Not intentionally, of course, they had caught a double homicide and she had practically lived at the precinct for the last sixty plus hours, managing on naps in the quiet room, lots of coffee and showering in the locker rooms with an occasion trip home to grab clothes. They were all running on empty and the frenzy of the first twenty first hours was beginning to die down as the case progressed with few leads on their suspect – a handyman the victims had hired.
Just as Cat sat her head down on her desk for a quick nap, Tess strode in.
"Hey, sleepyhead, time to get up."
"Nope," she said into her arms and the dark wood grain of her desk. "Napping."
"Huh," her partner said and Cat heard her moving closer. "Ok, then, you can miss out on catching the bad guy."
Instantly her head was up, looking at her partner with bleary eyes. "What?"
"We got a good tip on Jackson's location. Apartment in Chinatown."
Then she was on her feet, grabbing her gun and phone. "Let's go."
As she picked up the phone, Cat noticed a text and looked at it quickly. Unsurprisingly it was from Vincent (the name displayed was Logan – as in Wolverine from X-Men's real name). They had said contact once a week at the start, but that had quickly turned into talking to each other every day and usually seeing each other every other day, if not more.
Everything ok?
She was pushing three days of no contact now, of course he was concerned. But she also knew he had his ways of making sure she was ok, so she didn't worry about responding to the text that second. Instead deciding a call later with the news they had the guy and she would (maybe) have a day off would be far better.
So she slipped the device into her front pocket, the message all but forgotten.
Pushing her body as far as she could, Cat chased Jackson around a corner and through some of the seedier area's of Chinatown. She had lost Tess a while back, her partner had veered off in an attempt to cut the suspect off, but with the winding back alleys they were running though, she could have easily gotten lost or cut off.
Another right by Jackson and Cat swore under her breath, she was in shape but this guy was testing her. As she turned the corner, she smiled and pulled her gun up.
He had run into a dead end.
"Turn around," she yelled and slowly he did.
Crap.
The guy was high on something; his wide, bloodshot eyes were darting all over the alley, his body was twitching, hands moving up and down his thighs quickly.
"On your knees," she commanded and he ignored her, continuing to look around.
Cat took one step toward him. "I said on your knees."
Again she was ignored and she started to wonder where Tess was.
"Jackson, get on your knees, hands up."
Another step toward him and she was less than a body length away. And suddenly she was very aware of being alone in the alley with him.
Finally he started to sink down and she relaxed just a little, taking a step toward him with her cuffs in one hand, other one still holding her gun steady on him.
As she reached out, he suddenly reversed direction and knocked the gun out of her hand, Cat heard it skitter under a dumpster to her right.
One of his hands painfully gripped her left wrist and twisted, she cried out in surprised at his strength and the pain that shot up her arm.
Taking advantage of the angle she was at, Cat kicked at his abdomen, making hard contact. It should have been enough to force him to release her, but instead he twisted more as if the hit hadn't affected him.
PCP.
She'd seen it any number of times, inhuman strength and speed, no reaction to pain, she'd seen a guy high so on the stuff that he'd continued to fight through a bullet to the shoulder.
In retribution the man threw her to the ground, her head colliding with asphalt. For a split second everything went black before she regained vision in time for a foot to make contact with her side.
When he pulled back a second time to kick her, she tried to grab the other leg and pull and unbalance him, but again…nothing.
So his foot crashed into her side again, this time she cried out in pain because she heard and felt a rib break. Then she was being lifted back to her feet and she wrapped one arm around her middle to stem the agony.
Where the hell was Tess.
Or Vincent, it seemed he was always there…always protecting her. Except the one time she was getting her ass kicked and desperately needed him.
A sudden blow to her jaw sent Cat stumbling backwards, her vision blanketed in black spots. Vision distorted and head and abdomen pounding she watched as Jackson approached her again, she tried to fight back. Tried to do anything, really, but she couldn't get her limbs to cooperate.
Just as she swore she heard someone yelling her last name, Jackson grabbed her shoulders and gave her a hard shove backward.
Then everything went black.
She was cold, so cold. And agony radiated from it seemed like everywhere. And there was a voice saying her name over and over. Cat couldn't remember where she was or what had happened; everything was so…confused, murky.
"Vincent," she muttered then opened her eyes to find men leaning over her, talking quickly, but she couldn't quite make out the words and for some reason fear spiked through her. For just a split second she thought they had gotten a hold of her. Muirfield.
"Vincent!" Cat screamed and tried to pull away from the men but the pain stopped her from going far.
"Cat! Stop!" A familiar female voice cut through the confusion and her eyes darted around until they fell on her partner, who was kneeling by her head, clearly concerned.
"Tess?" she asked and moaned when one of the men, who she now realized were EMTs, placed a brace on her wrist.
"Hey, you're gonna be ok."
"Wha-" she started then some of it came back to her, chasing Jackson, fighting with him, then nothing. "Where's Jackson?"
"Halfway to booking by now, you've been out about twenty minutes," Tess responded before one of the EMTs interrupted her and she nodded. "Ok, Cat. Off to the hospital with you."
"Tess…"
"I'll be right behind you."
Quickly she was lifted (apparently they had gotten her on the stretcher before she'd come to) and placed into the ambulance. But before they did she looked around again, scanning rooftops. She had the strongest feeling she was being watched.
After nearly four hours of being poked, prodded and scanned she was finally placed in her own room; they were keeping her overnight for observation despite the fact her concussion was minor.
At least here it was quiet except for the nighttime nurses walking up the halls and talking in low tones. Then there was a knock at the door and her heart speed up, even though her head knew it couldn't be him, Vincent couldn't just waltz into a hospital and then knock on her door.
"Yeah," she called and adjusted the blanket around herself for no less than the fifteenth time.
Instead of a doctor or nurse it was Tess, who entered with a broad, devious grin and slumped into the visitor chair near the head of her bed.
"Hey, partner, how ya feeling?"
She returned the smile. "Like I got the crap kicked out of me. Oh, yeah, I did."
"They are running blood work, but it looks like Jackson was hopped up on PCP."
Cat nodded. "Sounds about right. Dude practically broke my wrist with one go."
"So…" her partner started and Cat cringed, she knew it was coming, she did remember yelling his name. There was no chance – none – that Tess would simply let it go. "Who's Vincent?"
"No idea." The lie was smooth and instant and for just a split second she thought Tess bought it.
"That's odd," her partner said and leaned forward in the chair. "Because you said his name. Four times."
Oh shit…
Cat pretended to think about it then shook her head. "I don't know why…"
"Is Vincent Mr. Complicated?" Clearly Tess wasn't going to give up and Cat was thankful at least she hadn't connected him with the case that brought them together eight months ago. But this line of inquiry had to stop or Tess would push too far one day.
"Listen, Tess-"
"I knew it!" She was clearly proud of herself.
"Tess!" Cat said sharply and pinned the other woman with a serious expression, which seemed to damper her enthusiasm. Then she turned desperate, her fingers playing with the cotton blanket again. "Listen…I need you to drop this. I need you to forget you heard the name. And I need you to not ask why. I'm not asking as my partner, but as my friend."
Tess gave her a curious expression but nodded anyway. "Sure, of course. Maybe one day…"
"Maybe. Not today."
"Wanna hear how I saved your life?" She asked instead and Cat nodded.
Tess wove a long winded tale about coming around the corner to find Jackson straddling Cat, his fingers wrapped around her neck, squeezing. Unable to get off a shot without potentially injuring her partner, Tess had tackled the suspect to the ground and cuffed him to a dumpster.
"Called dispatch, got a bus, got Jackson sent to booking and here we are."
"Clearly you are a hero."
The women laughed, which then shot pain up Cats side despite the meds she was on.
"Ok, I should let you rest, call you in the morning. Night, Cat."
"Night, Tess."
With one last smile the other woman left and again there was silence in the room. After shifting around to find a comfortable position, Cat closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep. She was almost out when she sensed someone in the room and she opened her eyes to find a familiar shape hiding in the shadows.
"Vincent…" she breathed out, pleased to see him. But then she looked around the room and furrowed her brow. "How did you get in here?"
He gave her a devastating smile. "Trade secret."
"What trade is that exactly?"
He approached her slowly. "Maybe one day I'll show you."
"Maybe its best I don't know," she said and smiled back.
Another half-smile and then he closed the gap between them, sitting heavily on the bed. "Are you ok?"
"I'll be fine, just banged up. Keeping me for observation."
"Because of the concussion?" he asked.
"Ok, maybe I do need to know. How?"
"Listening." Vincent moved further up the bed so he was sitting near her waist and looked down into his lap. "I'm sorry I wasn't there, Catherine."
"It's not your job to protect me, Vincent."
"I like protecting you."
She smiled and he returned it, just barely. "I…like knowing you're there. But I don't expect you to be there every second. I can take care of myself."
"I know."
Reaching out, she placed a hand on his thigh. "Ok then…But you were there, weren't you?"
"Well, yeah. I got there just after Tess did."
Silence fell over them and Vincent covered her hand that was still on his leg with his own. "If you don't mind…I'd like to stay with you. Tonight," he said and looked at her sideways.
"The nurses are going to be in all night checking on me."
"Not a problem," he said.
It wasn't much of a decision; all she wanted was him there with her. So she carefully slid over on the bed and looked at him expectantly. When he didn't move toward her she sighed.
"You maybe a superhuman, but no one could sleep in that chair and not get up with a bad back. Just…lie with me…please?" It was for her benefit as much his; suddenly she was desperate for his touch, her body practically ached for it.
For a moment he considered it then took off his baseball cap and curled onto his side next to her – the only way the two could lay on the small bed together.
As she got comfortable his fingers traced around the outer edge of the bruise that was still forming on her jaw, the touch almost reverent and painfully intimate. Then he traced down to the much lighter finger-shaped bruises around her neck and with their proximity, Cat could feel his heart starting to race, his expression hardening.
Carefully she placed a hand on his chest and she whispered, "I'm ok…it's ok." It seemed she said these words to him a lot, but it had the desired effect and his features softened, heart rate slowing.
He nodded, but continued his inspection, fingers moving back into her hair, gently searching out the lump left by the asphalt. Cat stayed stock still, knowing he needed to confirm for himself the extent of her injuries. So she watched his eyes roam her body, taking every mark and blemish.
Instead of directing him to the location of the bump, Cat let his fingers roam, they gently massaged her scalp as he explored. After the day she'd had it was relaxing and between that and the warmth of his body next to hers she was starting to drift into that space between awake and asleep. Until his fingers found their mark and she hissed lowly at the twinge of pain the contact had caused.
"I'm sorry," he whispered and slowly pulled his hand from her hair. She noted he had avoided her tightly wrapped ribs but couldn't be bothered to assign motivation to it.
"S'ok," she mumbled and nestled herself even closer to him, lying half on her side, face pressed into his chest. His arm wrapped gently around her waist, fingers just brushing her t-shirt clad lower back.
"Night, Catherine," he said and she felt a kiss drop onto her temple just as she slipped asleep.
In the morning he was gone, but she knew that he had stayed the entire night, disappearing somehow when the nurses came to check on her and then slipping back onto the bed after they left. It gave her comfort knowing that he was there, even if she said she didn't need someone to protect her.
Because maybe she did after all.
END
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