Next of Kin

Zoe Morgan she'd recognized immediately. The other two women were easy enough to identify once she started digging into Riley's history with the NYPD. Dr. Iris Campbell, his departmental therapist, and Dani Silva, a detective in the Organized Crime division who had trained under Riley for advanced assault protocols.

Zoe Morgan was too tough a nut to crack without some artillery. Dr. Campbell could probably hide behind Doctor-Patient confidentiality. Her best bet was Det. Silva.

"The hell do you want to know about Detective Riley?" Detective Dani Silva asked.

"We're building a profile for the article about his funeral." Maxine answered smoothly. "There's no family, it seems so we thought we'd get anecdotes from his fellow officers." She raised her eyebrows at the detective. "You attended his course on advanced assault, yes?"

"...sort of." Silva conceded. "Back in academy. Wasn't really fair, though—the end test, you went up against Riley, and that man was a beast. Tore through recruits like they were tissue paper." A fond smile touched her lips.

"He helped you close a case on a gang infiltrator in the police office, correct?"

Silva stopped and frowned at her. "That's not supposed to be public knowledge." She glared.

Max just smiled. "The story's on Riley, not on the academy." She reminded her.

Silva seemed satisfied. "Riley sort of fell into it. He wasn't assigned to the case, just got caught in the crossfire. Sure stepped up, though." Another fond smile. "Not sure I would have made it without his help."

"Yes..." Maxine smiled. This was good, but more or less a confirmation of what she already knew. "Was that... normal for Detective Riley? Getting caught in the crossfire?"

"Only worked with him the one time." Silva shrugged. "I did a run with Fusco once, but again, that was by accident." Her face clouded. "Was weird to find out they were partners."

"I can imagine." It was odd, and suggested that Fusco may have been more involved in "Riley's" side-job. But it was useless confronting Fusco, or Zoe, or even Campbell, with so little. "Is there anything else you can tell me about Detective Riley?"

"Sorry. Not really." Silva shrugged apologetically. "You might have better luck talking to his captain, though."

"Detective Riley was a damn fine man." Captain Moreno of the 8th Precinct nodded. "We're all a little shaken up here... I'm sorry Detective Fusco hasn't been more cooperative with you..."

"We all grieve in separate ways." Maxine smiled. "I understand he was close to his partner."

"Close is... not... quite the right word." Captain Moreno seemed to be puzzling for the right word. "They worked well together, but... well, Riley was borderline abusive sometimes. Odd. Fusco usually doesn't take that sort of crap, but with Riley..." She shook her head. "One thing I will say is that he was loyal, definitely. Fusco covered for Riley more times than I care to remember."

"Covered in... what sense?" Maxine asked. "Bending the rules, that sort of thing?"

"Bending the time cards." Captain Moreno shook her head. "Riley never seemed to be around. I gave him several reprimands... at times it seemed like Fusco was carrying the weight of that whole partnership on himself. But at rare intervals..." A smile touched her mouth. "There was this one time he closed three cases in one day."

Maxine nodded distractedly, noting down the information. "What had he been seeing Dr. Campbell for?"

"Routine eval following the discharge of a weapon." The captain waved a hand. "Riley wasn't happy about it—no one ever is—but it's mandatory, so he had to go. Although..." She stopped suddenly.

"Although..." Max prompted, sensing something further.

"Well, it's just..." The captain frowned. "He opted for the additional six weeks the department covers. Usually an alpha male guy like Riley drop the therapy as soon as he can."

Interesting. One of Maxine's theories was starting to fall into place. "How would you characterize the relationship between Detective Riley and Dr. Campbell?" She asked.

"Relationship?" Moreno's head shot up at the trigger word. "Why... Don't even think it, Angelis." She warned, shaking a finger at the reporter. "Dr. Campbell is never anything but thoroughly professional. She knows the score, she comes from police. I'm guessing, based on the added hours, that she got Riley to open up, but beyond that..." Moreno shook her head. "Campbell's solid. She's not the sort to get her head turned by a cop."

A cop, yes, but what about a suit-clad vigilante? Maxine wondered.

"Dr. Campbell. Dr. Campbell, please." Maxine hammered on the apartment door. "Dr. Campbell, if you would just come to the..." She sighed. "I just... I just have a few questions I want to ask." She waited a moment. "About Detective Riley."

The door creaked open and Iris Campbell, eyes red and hair tousled, peered through the crack. "Go away." She nearly whimpered.

Max felt a burst of energy as any last misgivings she'd held about her theory fell away. "Please, Dr. Campbell..." She pleaded, masking her new enthusiasm. "I just have a few questions for the funeral piece... I want to give the people of New York an idea of the hero who died for them."

Dr. Campbell seemed to snap. "You couldn't possibly—" She almost-snarled, "You have no idea-" controlling herself with an effort, she closed her eyes for a moment. "I... interacted with Detective John Riley only on a professional basis." She said finally, eyes opening wearily. "Our sessions are covered by doctor-patient confidentiality, a confidence I could never betray to a dead man." She made a move to close the door.

"Please..." Max pressed her hand to keep the crack open.

She could have bullied her way inside. She could have baited the woman, counting on that sudden fury to reveal more juicy facts. She could even have made insinuations about the relationship between her and Riley, blackmailed the therapist into giving her more information. Max had considered a lot of possible attacks to break the impenetrable "doctor-patient" defense.

But somehow, looking at the woman, Maxine decided to take a chance. "I know who Riley was." She said.

Iris froze, her eyes locked onto her.

"He saved my life, two years ago." Maxine continued, taking a deep breath. "Only, he wasn't a police officer, and he wasn't John Riley."

There was a long pause.

"Please, tell me." Iris said finally, opening the door.

"You didn't know?"

"Not... really." Iris said. She was perched on the edge of the couch, huddled over a cup of tea. "Not... the full extent, certainly." She took a trembling sip from her mug. "I knew..." she started, "I knew he wasn't a cop, and I knew he... he had a hero complex." A bittersweet smile curved her mouth. "He saved my life once, and... I saw him save others. I knew he was hiding something, but he would never tell me what." She hesitated before adding, "He tried, once, but..." Breaking off, she glanced away, biting her lip. "...but I thought he was just making fun of me. But now..." She looked back. "What you're talking about..." Her gaze drifted over the papers and photos Maxine had spread across the coffee table.

"It is pretty incredible to believe." Max gave the therapist a little smile. "I actually started researching the project for a Halloween special on urban legends. I started to believe it for a little while, but then..." A small shrug. "It was just so incredible. Even with the proof I'd collected."

Iris shook her head, still studying the pictures. "I should have known. I knew John, I knew he would never... would never have lied to me." Her face cleared suddenly. "Well, at least not like that. Not with such a crazy, unbelievable story." She took another sip.

"My guesses were that he was former special forces." Maxine offered, sipping from her own mug.

"That fits." Iris nodded, closing her eyes. "He was very much a military man. We never talked much about his past, but he hinted that he'd... lost quite a few friends over the years. I speculated in my notes that that was part of where his hero complex stemmed from."

"That would make sense..." Maxine nodded, her mind flying back to her own brush with death. John had been so oddly insistent, dogging her every step, even taking her back to her apartment... yes, that was the behavior of a man desperate to protect. How could she have missed that?

"It was..." Iris's face was clearing of its grief, replaced instead by concentration. "It was odd, though... it seemed sometimes that the trauma was more recent. He said he'd had... 'a death in the family.'"

"Impossible." Max shook her head. "Detective Riley didn't have a family."

"Obviously." Iris rubbed her eyes. "It wasn't a lie, but I could tell it was a misdirection—someone close, a friend, who he considered family. What I couldn't understand at the time was why he wouldn't tell me that."

"A friend who died... someone associated with his side-job, maybe." Max considered. "Did you know any friends of his?"

"No... John was always very close." Iris shook her head. "He was starting to... trust me..." Her voice choked.

Maxine handed her a tissue and patted her on the back as the therapist wept for a bit. "What do you know about Detective Fusco?" She asked eventually.

"We didn't speak of him much." Iris said, blowing her nose. "He seemed dismissive of the man, but... oddly protective. But then..." she shrugged. "John was protective of everyone."

"Yes..." Maxine could not help agreeing. "What about Zoe Morgan?"

"Zoe?" Iris' head came up. She seemed puzzled. "She's a friend—we meet and talk every so often."

"Really?" The ball-busting fixer and diminutive therapist didn't seem to have very much in common.

Iris just gave a wave of dismissive weariness. "Long story."

"Oh." Max's reporter instincts cried at her to pursue this—a story on Zoe Morgan would be absolute gold—but she forced herself to stay on task. "Is that why she was there with you... that night?"

"That... that night..." Iris' brow furrowed. "I... I got a phone call from her. She said John needed me and that she'd pick me up..." Dawning comprehension lit up her face. "I didn't... I didn't even stop to think... how SHE might know John..." She looked at Maxine, face troubled. "Were they... friends?"

"Honestly, I have no clue." Maxine lied. "I was sort of hoping you could tell me. "John had had the hots for Zoe a few years ago, she was pretty sure, but what had happened since then was anyone's guess.

Iris seemed to be considering. "She's got a lot of enemies. Generally she's good at keeping them at bay, but I always warned her that one would catch up with her eventually." She cocked an eyebrow at Max. "Maybe one did—only John stopped them."

"So you figured it out." The woman picked up the glass and downed it in a single gulp. "Took you long enough."

Maxine watched her carefully. Zoe Morgan, famous political fixer, cool and collected player of the game, who'd never let anything get to her and always knew what angle to play, was very busy getting drunk.

It was probably the only reason Maxine had gotten anything out of her at all.

"I saw the way he looked at you quickly enough." Maxine shot back, nursing her own drink. "Did you guys have a thing going?"

Zoe waved a hand lazily. "On-again, off-again. More a business relationship than anything—we'd bump into each other in our work, fool around for a night or two, then disappear from each other's lives until the next time." Her mouth gave a little twitch. "Though even that had hit something of a snag since he met that pretty therapist."

"You know Dr. Campbell?"

"Sweet girl, Iris." Zoe gave a fond smile. "I was a little worried for her, to be honest—John's not the sort to stick around or share his life with anyone. Even if he were..." Zoe shrugged, "...that's not the sort of life for Iris." She considered her drink. "All things considered, it's probably for the best." Tossing back the glass, she again downed the alcohol in a single gulp..

"What sort of life did John lead?" Maxine prompted her. "When did you two meet?"

"Mm." Zoe signaled for another glass. "Posed as my driver on a job I had from Keller."

"Keller, the pharmaceutical mogul who went under after his company was exposed for illicit practices?" Maxine asked.

"That's the one." Zoe nodded profoundly. "Tried to off me. John stopped him. S'what he did. A big boy scout, John." A thought struck her and she smirked. "Well, I guess he probably didn't learn all his tricks in the boy scouts..."

"You said you met him at other times." Maxine interrupted that thought before it could go too far. "Other people in danger."

Zoe shrugged, downing the last bit in her glass. "I helped big people with little problems. He helped little people with big problems. We ran into each other every so often."

"Anyone in particular you remember him helping?"

Zoe sighed as her new drink arrived. "Persistent, aren't you." She muttered, shooting Maxine a dark look. For a moment she was silent, apparently thinking back. Her face looked calm, but the hand holding the glass shook.

"The first time," She said, finally, "was Powell—you remember the Delaney assassination, a few years back? How the police thought it was this nobody unemployed vagrant, and ended up letting him go? That was them. That was the first time they called me in." She snorted. "I didn't even know it was them, at first. I just thought I was meeting with a new stuffed shirt with a lot of money to throw at a problem."

."Them?" Maxine blinked. "Stuffed shirt... Detective Fusco?"

Zoe looked at her, puzzled. "Fusco? That hack wasn't..." she broke off, wonder spreading across her face. "You don't know." She smiled. "You don't know about Harold."

"Was... Harold one of John's aliases?" Maxine guessed

A loud snort. Zoe apparently found her amusing. "John was always John. Harold was always Harold. Those were about the only consistent things I could depend on from the two of them."

"An accomplice." Maxine sat back in astonishment, thoughts flying. Of course the Man in the Suit would have allies. Of course it would have to be someone outside the police force.

"More like the boss." Zoe answered, already deep in her next glass. "However much he tried to deny it. Had ALL the answers, and ALL the money."

"Did he... help John find out who was in danger?" Max asked eagerly. "Was he from the government, or a philanthropist, or... What could you tell me about him?"

"Small, scrawny, walked with a limp and wore round glasses. That's it." Zoe shook her head. "Paranoid son-of-a-bitch. Don't think I ever got a straight answer out of him."

It wasn't much to go on, but still..."Do you know how I could reach him?"

A snort. "Hire someone to kill you. Or don't—without John, he probably wouldn't get to you in time. IF he's still alive."

Of course. That was a possibility. Maxine grimaced at the thought. "What do you know about Detective Fusco?" She asked. He was the next piece of the puzzle.

"Not much." Zoe gave a weary shrug, fingers playing with the rim of her glass. "At least not how a dirtbag like him ended up working with a guy like John. I did more with his old partner."

"Carter? Joss Carter?" Maxine couldn't believe what she was hearing. This case just kept getting more legs on it. "The cop who took down HR?" The other cop who had rescued her, she realized belatedly. Christ, had anyone that night NOT been hiding something?

"Again, don't know how they got together, or what it was like." Zoe picked up her drink and took a sip. "Just know she was in on it."

Maxine's thoughts were flying. She had a huge story here. Only she still had no proof. It barely needed saying that the minute she was sober, Morgan would deny everything and find some way to discredit the recording Maxine had going in her pocket.

"This city's a dungheap, y'know that?" Zoe burst out suddenly. Her words were just slightly slurred. "This l'fe. It'sa bitch. I mean... I'ma fixer. I trade favors. Ev'ryone wants something, everyone g'ts somthing to hide. Good m'n like John and Harry..." She shook her head. "...didn't ask for anything. Didn'take an'thing. Didn... WANT an'thing" She downed another glass. "T's not right..."

"Yes." Maxine agreed, quietly.

But maybe, somehow, she could make it just a little bit more right.

"Would you mind," she said carefully, pushing a drink coaster and a pen in front of Zoe, "...writing down the names of the people you helped them with?"

A/N: That should not have taken so long. I've been distracted by other writing projects. I did like this chapter. Particularly Zoe's bit, but also Iris's. I like Iris, I hope her plotline is resolved next season. Given what John said to her, I think there's going to be a revelation of some kind, but unless she's a number and in mortal peril, I doubt she'll believe it.

I almost wonder, actually, if Iris's role was originally meant to be played by Zoe. It makes sense, character-wise and plot-wise, for John to have a love interest, who might very well feature highly in the show's finale. But given that Zoe's actress is busy with the Americans, she might not have the time to play a major character in PoI. Which is just as well, because as much as I liked Zoe, her scenes with Reese always seemed so... chilly. Like both characters were too cool to actually show interest in each other. Iris' scenes with John seem much more genuine (which is odd, because apparently the actor/actress don't get along (EDIT: Nevermind. I heard this from someone on the internet, but I've yet to find ANY sort of corroborating evidence. So apparently it's not a thing)).

Incidentally, I'd love some feedback on this story. I'm so glad there are people faving and following it, but I'd also like more specific feedback about the writing. So if you have a moment, I'd really appreciate it if you could drop a review! Thanks.