So I've been putting off posting this chapter because I can't decide if I actually like it but here goes nothing. Enjoy!

The Victim

James had spent most of his teenage years going from foster home to foster home. So for him one of the best things in the world was waking up in his own bed, with a comfortable mattress, soft sheets and familiar scents. He didn't however enjoy being woken up. Currently Rafael was jabbing him in the side from where he was standing next to the bed. James groaned picking up his head from the pillow to switch sides, he peeled his eyes open to see his partner who was already fully dressed in his three piece suit, hair styled impeccably.

"I hate you," he groaned, "what time is it?"

Rafael straitened his tie, "Seven, I've been up since six."

He gave the other man a pointed look; James just rolled his eyes in response,

"Not all of us run on caffeine."

Rafael smirked, "When are you going undercover again?"

James rolled on to his back, stretching his arms out above his head,

"I'm actually not."

The ADA frowned, "Why?"

He looked around the moment before replying softly,

"I put in for a transfer."

"Why?" Rafael repeated.

James huffed looking up at him,

"Because I'm sick of it. I used to think it was worth it, going undercover to get the perp, but now I think it's time to let someone else do it."

Rafael nodded sitting down on to the bed,

"I couldn't agree more."

"Really? I expected more of an argument. A lecture about giving up. No? Nothing?"

The other man shrugged,

"It's your decision."

"You're glad I'm leaving undercover." The blonde man accused,

"I didn't say that."

James smiled, "You miss me when I'm not here."

Rafael got up from the bed, walking out of the room,

"I never said that."

The detective sighed lying back on the bed,

"You miss me."

"You still have to get up for work." The other man reminded his partner as he poured another cup of coffee. James groaned again before rolling out of bed, he briefly considered making the bed before deciding Rafael could do it. He wondered into the bathroom stretching out his back, yawning as it gave a satisfying click. Turning on the shower, he stepped into the hot spray letting it wash away the remaining tiredness.

"Where have you been reassigned?" Rafael asked as soon as the other man stepped into the living room, freshly showered, dressed and craving cereal.

"They've temporarily assigned me to hate crimes."

"Ahhh finally defending our people." He laughed taking a sip from his ridiculously large coffee cup,

"God, you sound like my sister." James groaned heading into their kitchen through a curved arch to pour himself a bowl of Lucky Charms,

"Which sister?"

The blonde and dropped down on the couch next to the ADA, shoveling cereal into his mouth,

"The annoying one."

Rafael frowned, "You know that doesn't narrow things down."

James just shrugged, "You know I forget which one of my sisters said what."

The other man nodded in agreement,

"So hate crimes?"

"Yeah." James responded around another mouthful of cereal,

"Dealing with victims?"

"Yeah."

"Because you're so good with people?"

"You can talk."

"Good point," Rafael pulled out his phone as it beeped, "I got to go. Try not to get yourself killed, see you tonight," he kissed his partner before jumping up from the couch handing the other man his coffee cup, "drink it it'll wake you up."

James sniffed the still hot beverage before putting it down on the coffee table in front of him,

"I'll see you tonight."

The squad room for the hate crimes unit was bland to say the least the once white tiles were now grey and the whole place stank of stale, burnt coffee.

"You must be our new detective." The man who addressed him was older with hair grey that was thinning on top and he was quite a few inches shorter then the blonde man,

"That's me, James Carter," he stuck out his hand for the other man to shake, "nice to meet you."

The older man shook his hand,

"Detective Mason, welcome to bias crimes, hate to drop you in at the deep end but we've been called in over at Mercy Hospital."

Carter flashed him a smile, happy to get out of the coffee stink, "Lead the way."

The car ride over to the hospital was filled with a static silence and Carter's fingers itched to check his cell phone with no doubt had three or four texts from Rafael the first few asking if he'd managed to insult and/or get punched by any of the victims and the last text actually checking his first day at Bias crimes was going.

"So is there a particular way of treating the victims?"

Mason snorted, "This isn't the rape squad; just remember your sensitivity training and you should be alright. Just like back when you were walking the beat."

"Good to know." Carter frowned, he had hated walking the beat it had been all about getting to know people so when there was a crime they'd come to you. He never was very good with people.

Marcy Lynette had always considered herself one to stand up for herself, so when a man had grabbed her from behind as she walked home from her part time job in florists she had naturally fought back. It hadn't however been enough. The man that attacked her had been a good six foot and strong. She could still smell his rancid breath as he had pinned her down. She could still hear the profanities he spat. Marcy was so caught up in her harsh memories that she barley noticed two people walking into her hospital room until one of the kinder nurses, Jane, tapped her lightly on the arm

"Marcy, these police officers would like to talk to you about what happened."

"Oh," she looked over at the two men both of them were uninformed. One was taller with blonde hair that was shaved short; he was wearing more casual clothes jeans and a t-shirt. She noticed his gun was hanging from a holster just inside his coat. The other man however was stockier, less physically imposing. With his badge hanging around his stained green tie. She was glad that he approached her bed to speak with her and the other stayed across the room. "What do you want to know?" She asked the older man.

"Just what happened?"

"I already told the other cops, the ones in uniform."

"We're from the hate crimes division; we think your attack might have been race related." The blonde man had piped up. His voice had been softer then she had imagined his accent showed remnants of the Deep South.

"Well he said things," she paused, "but it's nothing I haven't had yelled at me down the street."

"Have you seen this man before?"

"No, of course not. Why would someone I know want to hurt me?"

"Well a number of crimes are perpetrated by someone one the victim knew and-"

"What my partner means to say," Mason cut him off, "is that there may be a chance that you've seen this man before. Could you tell us anything about him? Any distinctive marks?"

"He was white, tall, wearing a hoddie, dark hair maybe. I didn't get a good look at him, it was dark."

"What else happened?"

"He, he grabbed me. Pulled me into the alley next to the florists," she paused again, "he knocked my head into the wall. I tried to fight back that's when his hood came down but he didn't stop." Tears started down the woman's face again.

"Okay, I think that's enough. We're going to get you to sit down with a sketch artist anyways."

Marcy gave the older detective a nod and watched the two of them leave the room.

"Is is me or was she not telling us something?" Carter pondered as the two of them exited the hospital.

"Yeah," Mason grunted, "I was thinking the same thing."

"Maybe she's ashamed or protecting someone?"

"She did get defective when we asked if she knew her attacker."

"Then we should definitely look into her life. Talk to her friends."

"And that flower shop may not have CCTV but that doesn't mean that other places on that street don't." Mason suggested.

Carter nodded in agreement, "I'll get a court order."

Yeah it kinda doesn't have an ending so to be continued...