Angry and icy claws latch and tear across exposed skin, the elements in an uproar which mimics the very storm contained within the body. There are no shivers, no hisses as the cold slaps cheeks and worms beneath a rather inadequate jacket. There is no outward reaction to the harshness of the weather that screams just as angrily and loudly as the demons hiding in the very wind.

Sam Swarek stood, motionless, voiceless, a statue before 15. Part of him, the detective, the cop, the curious, wanted nothing more than to turn around and march back into the precinct and find answers to questions he needed answers to.

(Needed was all relative though.

He had no place needing anything from her.

But there was still need.

Damnit.)

He wonders how long he's been standing outside. He can't feel his fingers. Probably too long. Probably should go inside.

Pause.

Turn.

Stride slowly towards the building. Then, quick cut to the left, shuffle like a zombie around the callous bricks and he makes his way to his truck. Marlo's advice had hit home (he feels like shit as well) and he needs to get out of here while he still can.

The roar of the engine is soothing and rolls gently over battered and oozing cuts. He closes his eyes, allows one more shudder to roll down his back, before he blinks and eases the hulking mass of metal into drive. Carefully maneuvering his truck from its space, he allows himself only to focus on the mechanics of driving. Ease up on the gas, flick blinker up, check the sides.

Turn.

Drive.

He doesn't check the rear view.

.

Nick and Andy aren't seen the rest of the day. This worries Traci as she chews her pen thoughtfully, spinning slowly side to side in her chair as she watches the bullpen below. It's not that they have left, no, she could see the state her best friend was in and was well aware that under no circumstances should Andy have been working the streets, or even the desk, in that state.

No. It was the fact that, once Traci and Gail had left the two of them behind in the locker room, only minutes before Parade, when officers and Detectives were still filtering in and out, last minutes checks and all that, and they hadn't been seen (by anyone) since.

Vanished.

Poof.

It was as if this had happened before.

And the speed of which Nick has managed to get Andy out of the division was mildly terrifying. There had been practice in that speed.

Something began to burn in the back of Traci mind. Bits of information began to click home and bubble. The feelings of confusedness and worry morphed into, more worry yes, but also anger and resentment. And as that feeling grew, she began to remember days over the few months following Nick and Andy's return from Dakota where neither had appeared on shift.

A small seed of guilt (guilt for not noticing, guilt for not knowing how to help her best friend, and oddly, guilt for allowing her partner to see the object of a twisted storm of hate and love as broken as she was. Guilt was odd.) began to form.

But at the same time, there was curiosity. When had this started? It must have been sometime either during or after Operation Dakota; Traci had to believe there was absolutely no way she would ever have missed this before. But she knew without a doubt that Andy had returned different from those six months. And, if she knew Nick better, she would even hedge that he too had changed.

What had caused it then?

That there was a mystery Traci would likely never solve on her own.

A mystery wrapped in an enigma laced with a conundrum.

Pulling the thoroughly chewed from her mouth, she frowns and flicks the gob of spit away. It lands with an almost audible splat on Sam's chair. Traci feels the flickers of a smile pull at her lips and she completes another spin in her chair. Then her feet set down, because out of the corner of her eye, she spots Frank, and knows its time to put this into a box until the end of shift.

Setting up straight and quickly flipping open a wayward file, she stares intently at the lines of dark print before her, scratches absently at her hair and taps the desk, the picture of full concentration.

Timing.

Is everything.

A new case appears on her desk and all her previous worries vanish in a whirlwind hunt for a double murderer and child abductor.

.

Nick slowly thumbs his clutch of keys in his jacket pocket, counting them off to himself silently. His other arm is wrapped comfortably around a pair of hunched in shoulders and small hands tuck themselves at his side.

Finding the proper key, he withdraws his hand from the dark confines of fabric and opens the door to Andy's apartment. He carefully leads his compliant charge into the darkness of the main room, ensuring that the door is swung shut and locked once again behind them.

Dropping his set of keys on the counter (habit has him putting them in the dish next to the fruit. He smiles sadly at this, because to him, it's just another raw reminder of how many times this has occurred), he carefully maneuvers Andy's jacket from her limp form and sets it on the couch, still shuffling further and further into the apartment. At some point in their trek

(miles and miles they still have yet to go)

her hand has become laced in his.

(What was it he said about habits?)

"Time for bed," he murmurs into her ear, and she nods weakly.

Leading her carefully into her bedroom, Nick lets go of her hand for an instant, wincing at the way she emits a small wine of abandonment. Pulling back the covers, he returns to her side and tugs gently. She offers her fake, candy coated smile, that does little to reassure him and follows.

When she's settled, eyes already drifting as the battles behind her eyes are forced at bay by mental exhaustion, Nick traces a light fingertip across her cheek and pokes her nose. It pulls a weak snort, faint on already sleep weighted lips and that's all Nick needs.

"Sleep okay?" he tells her.

It's no use, because her eyelids have already slipped closed and her breathing evens out.

Briefly, as he always is in this moment, he recalls when this began.

Bowing his head, he sighs.

All will be answered soon.

I hope all of you reading are enjoying this.

I also predict about two more chapters to this before I put it to bed.

Thanks for reading!