Wow ... the response to the first chapter was overwhelming. Thank you all so much!

I just want to give you a warning here ... this story is going to be a little darker.

Chapter 2

It had gotten easier over the last year to force herself out of bed in the morning, to will her body and mind to function, to go on with her life. The wound was still there, would always be there. She'd lost the person who meant the most to her, and nothing - not even time - could heal that.

Emma wouldn't have gotten through it without Graham standing by her side the whole way. He'd been her best friend since the academy, and after an awkward date a friend of them had set up, they'd realized that there wasn't any sexual tension between them, and decided to just be friends.

Graham was the shoulder she could cry on after Henry went missing, he was the one person that she allowed into the apartment after they'd found her son's body. He was the one who held her together when her whole world crumbled down around her. He was the one who looked at the autopsy report with her - she'd refused to accept the 'He didn't suffer' statement the police normally gave the parents - knowing too well that it was bullshit most of the times.

Graham was the one who stayed at her apartment the first eight weeks. He was there when she woke up screaming. He was the one who was her voice of reason when she was blaming everyone - she knew in a corner of her brain that it wasn't anyone's fault; the nanny had just looked away for a minute, and when she'd turned around again Henry was gone. But the pain and guilt had to go somewhere, so she almost went insane while searching for the killer, searching for the sadistic pedophile that'd abused and murdered her son.

But Graham wasn't here anymore. She'd lost him too. And every morning over the last three weeks she'd asked herself why she was even getting up, why she still kept on living. There wasn't a point. She'd lost everyone dear to her heart.

And she was tired. So tired.

It had been five years since she'd lost Henry, and there were no new leads. The case had gone cold, and no matter how often she looked at all the evidence, she didn't find even the slightest hint of who the perpetrator might have been.

Graham had been her only anchor; he kept her sane, kept her going. But he was gone forever, and she was hardly able to keep it together.

For a split second she wondered if she should just stay home and drown herself in alcohol. If she should just let herself break. But then she remembered that the new detective would start today, and she stiffened her spine.

She was still a detective at heart, and maybe burying herself in work was the only way to survive.

-/-

Emma hoped the make-up she'd put on this morning would conceal the dark shadows under her eyes. She'd opted for a navy blue business suit with a light blue blouse underneath. Her hair was pulled back in a chignon, and she'd decided to not wear contact lenses today but her glasses instead.

She needed to at least feel as if she presented a cool and professional demeanor. No one should see how ragged she was on the inside, how broken. She was the captain. She couldn't show any weakness.

Her eyes fell on the file lying on her desk, and she realized that she hadn't even taken one look at the application. She was short a detective, and no matter how badly the hole Graham left behind still hurt, she needed to fill his position. Sean, her former supervisor, had recommended Detective Jones, and even though she knew Jones' last undercover assignment ended badly, she was willing to give him a chance. Not that she had really any other option.

Sighing softly, she turned around and put the file on the cabinet behind her, startling slightly when she heard the knock at the door. Taking in a deep breath, she straightened and said over her shoulder, "Come in."

She righted the files in front of her, waiting for the new detective to enter, hearing his lilting voice behind her a few seconds later.

"Captain Swan? I'm Detective Jones. Reporting to ..."

She'd turned around to greet him, but the moment her eyes met his, a jolt of surprise and bafflement zapped through her body. She recognized him instantly, and judging by the expression on his face and the fact that he'd stopped mid-sentence, he probably also remembered her.

Her whole body reacted to him, her stomach clenched, her nipples tightened and an unwelcome picture popped into her mind - he was towering over her, his eyes dark with lust, his hips snapping against hers, his voice a hoarse rasp as he fucked her into oblivion.

Jesus Christ!

She'd spent one night with him; one night filled with insanely hot sex that made her walk funny for three days after. Nonetheless she should have forgotten about him. It'd been five years. But maybe she remembered it so clearly because it had been the last time she'd been carefree. The last time she'd enjoyed herself.

Because six weeks later Henry had gone missing.

And now her one-night stand was standing in front of her, in flesh and blood. She didn't even know his full name back then, only his given name - Killian. Cursing inwardly, she scolded herself for not looking at his file beforehand. A little forewarning would have been of advantage.

But they were professionals here, and what happened in the past should stay in the past.

"Detective Jones," she said firmly, holding her hand out to shake his, ignoring the shiver that ran down her spine when his fingers closed around hers. "Nice to meet you."