A/N: Oh, yay, I was so pleasantly surprised to get reviews on this! Let me know how I write Frankie's point of view...I hope I keep him in character!

RaiN: Ha ha, nice to see I tickled your fancy. And you caught on! Isabella Zuko is Isabella Pacino! Thanks for still being a supporter of 'Flacino' lol. I think 'Rizzuko' will be pretty awesome! Thanks for such a heartwarming review!

Dark: Thank you! I think mine is the first Frankie/OC story...I think Maura and Frankie would be cute, but it's hard to really capture the essence of the characters in fanfiction, because you have to rely on your inner writer skills to make your character come to life. Thanks for the review!

Angel: Thank you! First chapters are always so awkward to write...glad to know I caught your attention.

I'm sick of all the insincere

So I'm gonna give all my secrets away

This time, don't need another perfect line

Don't care if the critics never jump in line

One Republic — Secrets

"I've got you now," an all-too familiar voice snarled in her ear as she stood there, powerless to stop her own personal boogeyman.

"I won't let you win," she said, her voice breaking. Diego Vasquez stood before her, his head tilted backwards. His large body shook with laughter as the demonic cackle filled the air.

"You already have," his smooth voice echoed in her ears as his hands wound around her slender throat, cutting off all air supply. Her body hit the floor with a thud as he continued to wreak havoc on her life.

"No!" she gasped. She bolted upright, her body broken out in a cold sweat. Isabella looked at the radio alarm clock on the nightstand, her breathing coming out as hyperventilation. It was four in the morning, far too early to be awake. She continued to tremble and she looked around on her bed for Chachi, her Rottweiler. The great canine was curled on the other side of the bed, snoring away. It was clear that she wouldn't be going back to sleep anytime soon, as Diego Vasquez haunted her thoughts. When Isabella had been seventeen, Diego Vasquez had been a part of one of the most notorious gangs in Queens and hadn't taken no for an answer. He had nearly killed her brother, Levi when he had tried to protect her. After that, he had continued to stalk and terrorize her to transferring out of New York. Right now, her biggest fear was that Diego would follow her to Boston.

She got up and went into the bathroom to take a shower to calm down. After the steam and the heat of the hot water had ultimately calmed her down, she felt ready to go back to sleep. Isabella wiped the steam away from the mirror and saw Diego's reflection behind her.

Gasping wildly, she whirled around and saw nothing. She slapped her cheek and ran her hand through her wet hair.

"God, Pacino, keep it together," she muttered, calling herself by her maiden name for the first time in three years. She finally pulled her pajamas back on and flipped on her radio onto something soft. Classical music always put her right out.

Isabella dragged her feet sluggishly into the bullpen the next morning, her eyes puffy with lack of sleep and it ultimately made her cranky. Her clothes were wrinkled and she was fairly certain that they probably didn't match.

"Good morning, sunshine," someone cracked. She waved them off as she looked at the board. God, she was exhausted.

"My dog kept me up," she lied. She smoothed her bangs out of her face as she tried to wake up more. Never in her life had she craved caffeine more. "Is there coffee?"

Wordlessly, everyone pointed to the direction of a cafe. Isabella lifted her hand in thanks and found her way over. A bright, sunny middle-aged woman with long hair smiled at her.

"Hi there, honey, what can I get for you?" she asked. Isabella blinked tiredly as she strained to read the menu. In her haste to get ready, she had forgotten to put in her contact lenses.

"I'll just take the plain bagel and cream cheese, please," she said. "And an extra-large coffee with two shots of espresso."

The woman's smile widened as she pulled the things out to make the food. "You must be the new detective," she said. Isabella mustered a smile in return.

"Word travels fast, I see," she commented. The woman set down the cup and shook her head.

"Just saying," she replied with a shrug. The name 'Angela' was now visible on her nametag. "Would you like your bagel toasted?"

Isabella nodded gratefully. "Thank you," she replied. She laid the money down for the food and took a sip of the coffee. The hot liquid burned down her throat and she shook her head.

"Quite a kick, huh," Angela smiled. Isabella smiled sheepishly.

"Ma, can I get my usual, please?" Frankie's voice caused her to turn around. She waved a little and took another sip of coffee. He sat down beside her. "Late night?"

She shrugged and nodded. "Woke up in the middle of the night with my dog halfway on top of me," she replied. It wasn't a straight-out lie; Chachi had wound up rolling all over her.

"Joe Friday's my sister's dog, she's the same way. I swear, if she's not on one side of the bed, she'll lay right on top of ya," he said. Isabella took the toasted bagel with the cream cheese spread nicely over it.

"Thank you," she told Angela, taking a bite of the still-warm bagel. "My dog was a rescue on one of the raids I did back in New York. Poor little guy was chained to a doghouse and he looked like a skeleton with fur." She remembered the little puppy's stumpy tail curved downwards, a clear indication of fear.

"It's okay, little guy," Isabella cooed, bending down to the tiny black and tan puppy's level. She clicked her tongue and patted the earth in front of her. It was freezing cold out, well below freezing. She pulled out a piece of beef jerky from her messenger bag, holding it out to him. If she didn't get the puppy out now, he would freeze to death. The poor little dog had no fat to keep him warm. He finally stood up on spindly legs and craned out his neck. He snapped the jerky up in his jaws, chomping it down hungrily. Afterwards, he sat down on the ground and watched her. As if to say "Have anymore of that?"

It wasn't long before he let Isabella pet his side slowly. It was hard not to show horror as she felt each rib of the puppy. He couldn't have been more than a month old, maybe six weeks tops.

"C'mon, little dude. I'm gonna take you home with me," she told him. He whined when she stepped backwards. It had turned out she was the only other human he had been in contact with besides his owner.

"The little shit pooped on the floor, so I put him outside to teach him a lesson," were his owner's words. Isabella had to hold herself back from flinging herself at him.

"And you just left him out there with no food and no water?" she demanded, slapping the cold steel table. She had named the little puppy 'Chachi' and he would be living with her. Currently, Chachi was getting dewormed and getting his shots.

"He needed to learn a lesson," the owner merely replied. Isabella waved to the uniformed officer.

"Get this sick bastard out of my sight before I lose it," she snarled.

"Makes you feel good about what you do, right?" Frankie asked. She smiled to herself and nodded.

"Yep. Chachi's now a big, healthy boy. He's my big teddy bear, but he hates being put outside," she replied.

"Chachi...after Chachi Arcola?" Frankie asked. Isabella laughed lightly.

"Not a lot of people get the allusion, but yes. I was watching 'Happy Days' after I had brought him home. When Fonzie called for Chachi, the puppy lifted his head. I just assumed that the Fonz named my dog," she replied fondly. It was odd how she was able to make conversation with someone based on something so small. She squinted at the cup in her hand, wishing her sight wasn't so blurry. This meant she had to track down her glasses, which wouldn't be so bad if she didn't have to keep them from falling down her nose.

Frankie followed Isabella to the morgue, where Maura had said she had some results on Henry Wallace.

"Autopsy confirmed my suspicions at the scene," Maura said. "Henry died of exsanguination, due to sharp-force trauma to the jugular vein."

Isabella let out a mutter and shook her head. "No parent should ever outlive their child."

"Any clue to the murder weapon?" Frankie asked. The pretty redhead shook her head.

"It's very small in size and it's clean. No tearing around the edges," she answered.

"Meaning that the weapon was sharp, not blunt," Isabella pointed out. Maura nodded in surprise.

"How did you know that?" she asked. Frankie turned his attention to the petite New York native. Her baby blue eyes were deep in thought and she twisted her mouth before answering.

"I was a crime scene investigator before transferring to Homicide," she replied. "Knowing this was part of my job description."

"If you found a potential murder weapon, could you prove it?" Maura asked. Isabella fidgeted a bit and nodded.

"Get me the proper tools and I can do a lot of things," she responded.