After the interrogation with Jackson, Annabeth looks into the cuts with the M.E. and gets Nico and Grover to track down the distributers and manufacturers. She goes through Tamara Smith's financials and phone records one more time to make sure they haven't missed anything, and while they wait for the will to come in, and she gets the family and company financials too because she's nothing if not thorough.

While she's combing through the call logs for anything out of the ordinary, someone pulls up a chair in front of her desk. She looks up expecting Thalia, maybe Nico, and instead she sees Jackson, the writer.

She raises her eyebrow just a little, reaches up for a lock of hair until she remembers that she cut it short and turns back to her monitor. "What are you doing here, Jackson," she asks, coldly, taking a sip of coffee and crossing her toes. (Please, let him leave, she prays.)

He smiles at her childishly. "What a warm welcome from the Twelfth Precinct! I'll make sure to tell the mayor on our weekly date."

She almost chokes. "Date?"

"Date," he clarifies, grinning wider now that he has her attention. "Outing. Trip-" he waves his hand theatrically, but that's how he does everything- loudly, exaggeratedly "-Is that what it's called when you go to the local bookstores to admire my ruggedly handsome face hanging on all the posters?"

She snorts, rolls her eyes (albeit a little amused). "I assume there will be less of them, now that you've killed off Rick Riordan."

"Ooh!" he says, leaning forward in his chair, grinning even wider to the point where she isn't sure that's physically possible to grin like that without splitting your face in half. "It appears I have a fan."

She snorts again. "Why are you here?"

"That would be the mayor's fault," Captain Brunner says.

(Her captain doesn't show up. He manifests, at the worst possible time. She glares at the two of them in lieu of words. Both are unfazed, although for entirely different reasons- Brunner because he's dealt with this for the past five years, and Jackson…well, as a general rule, no one really knows what's going on with Jackson, not even the paparazzi. She admits disgruntledly that even she has to give him props for that.)

"Mr. Jackson cut a deal with the mayor. He is to shadow you on all of your cases, until he sees fit."

Annabeth stands up slowly. "Can we talk, Captain? Privately?" she asks, although the way she says it doesn't include room for negotiation.

Brunner just smiles good-naturedly like always, and opens the door to his office. (She'd like to think he obliges because she's one of the best cops in the precinct, if not the area). Annabeth stalks past her desk fuming, not even bothering to look at Jackson, who gives her a two fingered salute despite the cold shoulder he gets in return.

Annabeth starts going at Brunner as soon as he closes the door. She knows this is rude, especially considering this is her boss, but in her experience it's the only way to get results. Plus she's known Brunner since she was little. "Why does he need to tail us? We have enough people on our ass about this case, we really don't need another. Especially not a-a rich entitled asshole writer!"

"I understand, but Jackson promised he wouldn't get in the way," Brunner says placatingly.

Annabeth nearly throws something. "He promised? Have you met the guy?" she yells incredulously. She is very sure people outside can hear her, but at this point she doesn't give a damn.

Brunner loses it then. "The mayor himself made this happen. I will not disobey direct orders for the sake of your contentment regardless of the fact that you are a good cop."

Annabeth laughs bitterly. "Needs of the bureaucracy, right?" she says, smiling darkly. Brunner doesn't say anything. She shakes her head disgustedly and stalks out the same way she came in, heading to the break room to get herself a stronger coffee. She's going to need it if she has to work with this idiot.


Percy doesn't know what he ever did to set her off like that, but he isn't complaining. This side of her is…interesting. Like a hurricane; calm and cool next to raging winds and harsh rains. He walks up to her as she exits, coffee in hand, already stuttering an apology. She stops him with a single hand.

"If you're going to shadow us, we need ground rules," she begins, raising a challenging eyebrow.

He smirks, leaning against the wall like the archetypal "handsome-male-leaning-against-a-wall". He can work with this. He waves a hand at her as if to say, go on.

The detective licks her lips, his gaze dropping for a bit as she does so. She notices and gives him a glare that almost makes him blanch. "First," she says crisply, "do not get in our way. You do exactly as we say. No more, no less. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am," he says, flirtatiously.

"Second, stop checking me out." She gives him one last glare before turning on her heel and striding back to her monitors. (He's noticed a few things about her in the short time he's known her. Annabeth Chase doesn't walk. She strides and stalks but she never walks). He grins wider. He can definitely work with this.


The first thing Nico and Grover do when they get back is lecture Jackson privately. She doesn't know exactly what they say, but she knows the basic gist: "If you make a move on Annabeth, we rip you apart. Got it?" topped off with a disarmingly cheerful smile.

Judging by the looks on their faces as they exit the hallway they dragged Jackson down, it didn't go that well. She rolls her eyes. She's working with children she swears. They glare at Jackson the entire time Annabeth is briefing him. Or rather, Nico glares; Grover can't glare at anyone. Jackson stares at the back of her head instead, not even acknowledging their presence.

Normally, Annabeth appreciates her friends' overprotectiveness, but when Thalia comes in to "check on her" she throws her arms up in exasperation, ignoring Jackson's amused look.

Annabeth tries to reason with her ("Thals, it's fine, I'm just briefing him for Zeus' sake, chill-") but she knows that it's a futile attempt as soon as Thalia walks in wearing her "kick ass" combat boots. "Jackson," she calls, walking over with her head up, her shoulders back, and damn if she doesn't look totally badass right now.

Jackson, to his credit, takes it in stride. "Grace," he says, tipping his head in greeting. She has no idea how they know each other, but as long as it doesn't result in an all-out brawl, she's fine with it.

"You'd better not hurt my people, you hear?" she says, making it more of an order than a question.

"You tell your baby brother the same, you hear?" he says, with an edge.

Thalia gives him a once-over, smacks her gum once, then walks out, shoving a piece of paper into Annabeth's hand. She takes both with a stifled groan, instead turning her eyes heavenward in a desperate plea. She looks down, shoving away Nico and Grover when they try to read too. ("He's hot! Nice catch, kiddo!" She wants to die.)

"Well, Detective," Jackson begins, teasingly, the same infuriating glimmer in his eyes, "aren't you going to apologize for your friend's rude, brash behavior?" The boys stand up straighter, watching with poorly concealed interest.

Annabeth gives him a simpering smile. She turns to Nico and Grover, who aren't even trying to hold back their amusement anymore. "Still got the family financial records?" They nod. "Good." She looks back at Jackson. "You still have to pull your weight around here, consultant or not, so, you can look through the financials of the entire family. Unless you have a problem with that," she says raising an eyebrow triumphantly, gesturing to the three boxes on her desk.

"Not at all," he says, answering her with a wide smirk (is that all he does?) and stepping closer. She steps back quickly, teeth bared wide in a snarl. Back off. "For future reference, Detective," he begins softly, raising a hand to brush a lock of her hair out of her eyes, "my safe word is blue." Her blood goes hot and cold all at once when his callouses brush the soft skin behind her ear. The boys let out a soft whistle behind her.

She snaps, twisting his thumb as far back as it can go and then some, giving him a smirk of her own when he winces in pain. "Won't be needing it, asshole," she snarls, shoving him away from her and walking to the parking lot.


She waits until after he's gone to pull up Tamara's murder board. Her mother's murder case is something she's been working on for three years and yet, she never seems to get any closer to finding anything despite all the newspaper clippings and files and notes she collected. She sighs, clutching the wedding ring she wears around her neck. One of these days…


To say Percy Jackson is interested in Detective Annabeth Chase of the Twelfth Precinct, is to utter the understatement of the century, a fact both of her partners understand very clearly, as they watch Percy smirk long after Annabeth shoves him away,

They turn to look at each other with wide eyes as if to say this'll be interesting, and they'd be right.


notes: firstly, in regards to the rick riordan reference: see what I did there? (wink wink nudge nudge). also that turned out a bit darker than intended, as most of my work usually does, but que sera sera, c'est la vie. enjoy, and please please please please read and review.

[EDIT; 8/29] here's the third! as I said before, please review again because it genuinely matters.