Home Truths - Chapter 4 - Weight of the World

The end of the previous chapter:

"You can tell us Fiona," Jo soothed. "We'll protect you." Jo assured her.

"I don't remember OK?!" Fiona snapped, her whole demeanour now dramatically altered. "You wouldn't understand, would you? With Prince Charming over there to protect you." She spat, gesturing to Mac. "You've never been through what I have that night. To be. trapped, hit, threatened, thrown against all four walls of somewhere you should be safe."

Jo just stood there, her posture ridged. She was silent for a fair few minutes and Mac considered stepping in, but then Jo began to speak.

"I do understand Fiona, I understand completely." Jo paused and took a deep breath. "I do because I've been that woman." Jo confessed.


Mac and Jo were now in the car, on the way back to her apartment. Fiona had grown weary and wanted to sleep, but only after she had been assured that her daughter was safe. Georgiana had been taken to Fiona's neighbours house by Flack. The two detectives were silent in the car. Jo through shock at what she had revealed; it was something she never thought she would tell anyone. Mac just couldn't believe she had had to live with that, bottle it up and battle such physical and psychological demons on her own. When had this begun? Was it while she was in New York? Who had done this damage to her? He, as her boss, as well as her friend, was supposed to protect her. Had he failed? All these thoughts were distracting Mac from driving. He did his best to push all these thoughts out of his head and tried to focus on the road ahead of him.

Jo felt vulnerable, naked almost. She was trapped now, once again. She would have to explain this to Mac. Jo didn't know if she was strong enough, how he would react, whether she would be able to without crumbling completely. When Jo turned the key in the lock, they entered an empty apartment, as Ellie had decided to stay with a friend in order to work on a presentation.

Jo shrugged off her coat and then turned to Mac "If you don't mind Mac, I think I might go for a bath."

"Of course, Jo. You go ahead." Mac replied gently. Once Jo had disappeared, Mac set the kettle to boil and decided to make her a mild 'Irish Coffee' with Southern Comfort, her favourite. He thought that it may calm her nerves.

He heard the water ferociously pouring into the bath tub when he knocked on the door. Jo opened it and she was covered with a red silk dressing gown. The exposed skin around the nape of her neck and collar bone had a few goosebumps on it and she shivered delicately "Here, I've made you a coffee with a dash of Southern Comfort. It might warm you up." Mac said, holding the deep blue mug out to her. God, she could really do with that. While grateful, she merely smiled, being unable to form any fathomable sentence. He smiled back and as he handed her the mug, withdrew his hand from it and her hand enveloped it, their fingers briefly entwined. She had never felt such an innocent and caring touch from a man before. She felt the warm intoxication spread through her body slowly, feeling her shoulders relax slightly. No words had been said in this quick exchange but then, non needed to be.

Then Jo retreated into the bathroom. Despite her clearly fragile emotional state, Mac still couldn't help but marvel at the way in which Jo's movements always had an air of gracefulness about them, as if she was walking on water. Mac heard her slowly envelope her body in the warm, relaxing and soothing water. Mac planned leave the room, but he couldn't quite bring himself to do so. So, he decided to sit in the small arm chair that was at her dressing table, just by the bathroom door.

Jo had her eyes closed in the bath, letting the hot water relax her every muscle. She didn't know what to do. Did she have to tell Mac? In reality, the details of her personal life were really non of his business, a fact that Mac had previously made clear to her. If it was going to hurt her talking about it, then why should she cause herself more pain?

Just when she thought she'd made her mind up, she heard Mac's soft tones begin to talk to her. "Jo, I am never going to push you to talk about what happened to you, but I want you to know, I'm always here and ready to listen."

Jo barely repressed a sob as his words resurfaced memories; they began to rock through her mind, her body: her soul:

"Maybe I need to teach you a lesson my dear, on how to treat your husband, after all I have given you!" Russ snarled as he approached, loosening the navy tie around his neck and unbuttoning 3 buttons.

Jo was astounded; it felt like she was dreaming. The glint in his eyes was frightening rather than loving with a back note of seduction.

"Oh my sweet, sweet Josie."

When Jo came back from the memory, she replied. "Thank you, Mac. That's very kind." Jo replied, her voice thick with emotion. She really had no choice now, it was such a simple but equally kind gesture, she couldn't ignore that. Despite her colleague's gentle open hand of comfort, Jo couldn't help feeling marginally pressured. She knew that was not Mac's intention, the weight of her emotions was colossal, replicating those of her true self, characterised by forced fragility, rather than the external bubbly optimism of which Jo wished she was. Mac heard the bath water begin to drain and Jo get out the bath. Shortly after, the door opened and Mac smiled at her, her dressing gown was tied at the waste, showing off a silhouette of her figure, but when he looked at her face, the picture was bleak and concerning. Her cheeks were reddened and swollen through crying and it melted Mac's heart. Jo could see concern in his features, but also softness, forgiveness and understanding.

"Jo," Mac began, but he couldn't continue as Jo just just broke down, sobs desperately, painfully trying, and succeeding to escape her chest. She covered her face with her hands, desperately trying to mask this weak side of herself but she knew she was being naive to think that this attempt would work. All Mac did was pull her into his arms and began to rock her gently, rhythmically to some silent and yet familiar song. Her face was gently pressed into the crook of Mac's neck, her tears gradually soaking his shirt.

Mac heard her muffled apologies but his only response was to continue to stroke her hair. "Shhh, Jo don't speak. Concentrate on your breathing."

Slowly, Jo's breathing became more regular and she began to slowly pull back from Mac , but he only slightly released his grip on her waist. "Why don't we sit down?" Mac suggested. Jo only nodded, so they moved to Jo's bed. Mac only sitting on the edge, Jo curling up on the left hand side after adjusting the pillows to her liking. Mac hadn't wanted to intrude, but when Jo propped the other set of pillows up and patted the bed, Mac smiled and moved to sit next to her, his qualms about invading her space almost forgotten, but he was still all to aware of her heightened sense of vulnerability. They assumed a sadly familiar position, while in a better environment. It was the same as the one when they were sitting in the back of the ambulance, a blanket around Jo's shoulders in the aftermath of the John Curtis attack.

Both were silent for awhile, Jo enjoying the calm atmosphere, Mac not wanting to force conversation on her. Without really thinking, Jo had moved closer towards her colleague, boss and friend and rested her head on his shoulder once again. He didn't object, just adjusted his position so both were comfortable. The tranquillity, while barely interrupted, resumed. All that was audible was the ticking of the bedside clock and the odd drip of water from the bathroom taps.

"It began when I asked him for a divorce." Jo almost whispered.

Russ! How could he have done this to her? A woman he supposedly loved? Mac questioned inaudibly, he was appalled.

While he was pretty much screaming in his head, he didn't say anything only rubbed Jo's forearm and gave her a gentle hug. She wasn't looking at him, obviously ashamed which pained Mac, she had no reason to be.

"After that, if I tried to talk to him, he would just shove me aside or...on a bad day, hit me. He believed I didn't deserve to talk to him after what I did to him. He only agreed to the divorce because of a mixture of pressure from my sister and mother and to keep up appearances at the bureau." Jo paused momentarily to take a breath. She looked to Mac, expecting him to voice an opinion, he had the right to. He didn't though, just looked back at her, his eyes warm and encouraging but by no means forceful. So, she continued. "After the divorce was finalised, it called down a bit, as he could only see Tyler on the weekends because of work. The nights of hell were less frequent, but it's occasional enough for me to not be able to fully relax. It became worse when I said I was going to adopt Ellie. He argued that I told him that I didn't want another child, which was a lie, and therefore, I had deprived him. The first night he learned of my plans was the worst, he said I'm going to make it I couldn't carry anymore children and render me an unfit mother." She sniffed then, and frantically rubbed her eyes trying to prevent another crying session, but for the second time, she was unsuccessful.

She became distraught then as the memories began to rock through her conscious, resulting in her body to react in the same way. Her eyes were closed but the tears still streamed from her chocolate orbs. This almost brought Mac to his emotional breaking point too. He was angry at Russ for his treatment of Jo, but also pained at Jo's current state of fragility, vulnerability and pain.

"Jo..." Mac whispered into her hair that had the slight aroma of lavender. "Listen to me, he's not here, I'm here, I would never hurt you. You're safe with me, you'll always be safe with me." He pulled her closer and tucked a few stray strands of hair behind her ear.

Jo slowly began to relax again and then her eyes became heavy. She tried to keep her eyes open, but she was really struggling to do so. Noticing her almost debilitating exhaustion, Mac asked "Do you want me to stay Jo? I don't mind either way." In a tone of comfort that had a soothing quality to it. Not receiving a response, Mac thought that this was just quiet contemplation, but when several minutes had passed, he looked down to see Jo was now in a peaceful sleep and not wishing to disturb her, he decided he had to stay, not that it was a mandatory obligation; he was pleased.

While his conscience would never admit it, it was a joy to be in her presence. Her usual and charismatic southern charm set alight his soul once more. In these circumstances, while the intensity of such enjoyment was most certainly dimmed by her current state of upset, watching her sleep was still calming; he was able to see that Jo was at peace, safe, and feeling secure. She had a serene expression on her face and her breathing was slow and even against his blue dress shirt. With his one free hand, he loosened his tie, pulled it off, undid the top button of his shirt and gently kicked his shoes off. When this was done, he carefully moved so that his head was resting on the pillow and closed his eyes and felt his body and mind relax to the steady rhythm of Jo's breathing.


Don took a bite of his onion bagel as he flicked through his emails. It was 3am. He couldn't sleep, thinking about that poor young girl, he couldn't shake the sickening feeling in his gut. Seeing that innocent child's world turned into a topsy-turvy environment of confusion rather than one of happiness and imaginative creativity.

The emails were the usual junk stuff. Department training, lost property , then, one finally captured his interest, despite it being somewhat clouded by tiredness and being awake at an hour his body clock believed to be a myth.

The email read:

From: Maxine Garratt, New York City Social Services.

To: Detective Don Flack, NYDP

RE: GBH CASE. File No. #802565402

'Dear Detective Flack, firstly, let me apologise for my lateness it getting back to you. The victim in question was put into the system, but under the name Annie King. Hence why it could have been difficult for you to find any record of her family life under that name, as she hadn't been adopted, her name hasn't legally been changed. It only was changed for her own safety.

Sadly, I am not at liberty to discuss anymore as her biological parents are particularly bad apples and if I were to discuss any more about her background, she could be found by her parents.

I can however, give you the details of her last known foster carers, Gary and Freda Cole.

Their last known address was in Brooklyn Heights, on Willow Street.

I hope this helps,

Yours faithfully,

Maxine Garratt, Head Liaison Officer with the New York Social Services Department.

Don quickly wrote a quick reply of thanks and then began to search the whereabouts of Fiona Kiddley's last known foster carers.


Mac woke to the overwhelming sense of unfamiliarity; he couldn't understand quite where he was. Looking around the room, he saw a whole lot of mahogany work tops, a dressing table with a decorative, vintage, French style mirror. At its base, there were various makeup items: a few lipsticks, an eyeliner pencil, an eyelash curler and a chunky tube of jet black mascara. This information still didn't really help him, his logical and quick mind slowed by the daze and heaviness of his sleep. Then he felt a weight upon his shoulder, chest and abdomen. Claire? Was his first thought; What the hell happened? Was his second, thinking back to his shooting, he couldn't have died, could he? Then he looked over and everything fell into place. Jo.

She was still asleep despite it being 7am, which Mac considered to be a lie in. She had moved in the night and he was surprised that it hadn't woken him. She now was resting more on his abdomen, rather than his shoulder, lying on her back. Her hair looked as if it was knotted from resting on him all night. Her legs were exposed, slightly bent at the knee, the slither of light escaping from the gap in the curtains was glistening on the uniformly smooth skin that was on show. His eyes involuntarily slid down the length of them, reaching her petite and delicate feet. The red nail polish that elegantly contrasted with her skin was slightly chipped at the edge of her toes. His eyes began to retrace their steps back up the silk of her dressing gown, only to rest on her waist. What am I doing? Mac asked himself. Jo doesn't deserve this, this selfishness. But he couldn't help himself. Her figure, still extenuated by the silk belt of her dressing gown cinched around her waist. It was shapely, feminine, delicate. Her curves were evident, her slight hourglass shape being highlighted by her silhouette. His eyes began to rise further, to the exposed skin not covered by the dressing gown. Unnoticed previously, Mac spotted that Jo had three small freckles erratically scattered on her upper chest: one just below her left collar bone, one at the base of her oesophagus. The final one was at the top of her...cleavage. The silk collar of her gown cheekily letting Mac have a little peek, the bow and crevice of that delicate and sensually private part of her, a picture of perfection. What is wrong with me?! Mac screamed to himself. This was unlike him on every level. He felt as if his mind was on another planet.

However, he was swiftly and abruptly brought him back down to Earth.

"Mmhm." Jo murmured. Mac couldn't distinguish if this was her awakening from her slumber, or her being gripped within the tight, strong grasp of a nightmare.

"No..please..." She whimpered. "Not tonight...I'm sorry.." Jo's voice was louder now, the dream becoming more real to her. Mac began to run her shoulder.

"Jo?...Jo?" He called, each one becoming louder.

"Just not tonight Russ...Ellie is asleep..." She pleaded.

"Jo?" Mac tried again, rubbing her arm a little firmer. "It's just a dream, it's not real, he's not here, wake up." He said, his tone encouraging. He hated seeing her like this, he lowered his head, pressed his lips to her silky hair and began to shush her softly. It wasn't long until Jo relaxed and eyes snapped open, momentarily disorientated and she sat up abruptly. Mac knew she was mistaking him for Russ so placed both his hands on the back of her shoulders.

"It's me Jo," He said simply. "You're alright." He added. At this point, Jo has her back to him, it was clenched and stiff. She was barely sitting on the bed; a more accurate description of her posture would be teetering on the edge of it.

She couldn't bring herself to relax, not yet. She couldn't trust this situation, her conscience still wrapped up in the nightmare she had just witnessed.

"Deep breaths." The calming voice said again. Simple, but commanding, therefore disconcerting. She obliged though, force of habit she supposed. She wrapped her arms around her waist, feeling the luxurious texture of her silk robe between her thumb and index finger.

"Jo, look at me. It's okay." The voice spoke again, an edge of familiarity creeping into the tone of it, as the nightmare began to fade. Jo closed her eyes and took a few more deep breaths. She stood then, in attempt to give herself more power. She then turned. Before her was not a nightmare, but a comfort in the form of Mac, her boss and friend. His eyes were soft, kind and un-judgementally understanding.

Jo covered her face with her hands then, shaking her head. How stupid! She thought to herself. Mac saw this almost immediately. Being a marine, having served his country valiantly overseas, and now domestically as a police officer; he was well acquainted with PTSD, sadly. He had witnessed many suffer as well as himself.

"Jo, it's okay; there is no reason to be ashamed. Most nightmares are vivid and especially ones of that nature."

Jo only nodded, she rubbed her eyes and ran her hand across her face to steady her emotions.

Just then, Mac's phone rang.

Jo had slipped into the bathroom to freshen up, she needed some space, that was knowledge to both parties. Mac looked after her, concerned. He almost felt guilty. The exposure to this case caused Jo to begin to unravel. He sanctioned her to be a part of it. He knew he couldn't have known where the case would lead, but he still felt responsible for her care and making her feel better.

Over this time of intensive thought, Mac's phone had been ringing for about 3 minutes. He answered it swiftly, not wanting to miss the call.

"Taylor."

"Mac, it's Don. Are you alright? I don't think I've ever had to wait past the first ring for you to answer your phone."

"Ha-ha. Sorry Don, I didn't sleep to well." Mac said, he wasn't exactly lying.

"Okay, sorry to hear that. I've found a lead on Fiona Kiddley's childhood."

Jo had clipped her hair up out the way and splashed her face with water, she had to get a grip on her emotions. It was beginning to border on embarrassing. Jo didn't want this to change anyone's perception of her: especially Mac's. She inhaled and exhaled deeply. "Get it together Josephine." she whispered to her reflection. After repeating that statement three times, she grabbed the clothes from the shelf that she had collected before entering the bathroom and dressed quickly, applied simple make-up and came back into her bedroom.

"She was in the care system! That's why we couldn't find her. Have you spoken to the last set of parents? Nice work Don! I'll be there soon." He turned around to see Jo standing in the doorway from the bathroom. She was wearing a simplistic ensemble of blue jeans and a white button down, but fitted shirt with a small healed wedge.

"Oh Jo, sorry. Are you alright?"

Jo audibly sighed. Why did he always ask that? She wasn't made of glass, she had got this far without his help. Why would she suddenly need to be dependent on him? She didn't need a pillar to lean on. She would be fine on her own! Why did he need to be so patronisingly over-protective.

"Mac, I'm fine alright? It was just a dream, I'm not a child." Jo said, irritation clearly in her voice. Mac just stood there, unsure how to respond.

Jo walked over to her dressing table and picked up her bottle of Channel Mademoiselle and spritzed it on her neck and both wrists, rubbing them gently together. The delicate scent of jasmine filled the room.

"What did Flack say Mac?" Jo asked, looking at him with her features slightly more relaxed.

"Lets get some coffee and I'll tell you on the way to the precinct; that if you want to go?" Mac asked tentatively.

"Of course I do." Jo said blankly.

In the car, Jo's head was reeling. She had just learnt that Fiona had been put into car and pulled from pillar to post throughout her entire childhood. That poor girl! It must have been awful for her. Just getting comfortable with a family, home and neighbourhood only to be moved somewhere else. It was an unsettling thought for Jo, let alone an experience. It made her think of Ellie; what would her life had been like if Jo hadn't adopted her? What would her own life had been like if Jo hadn't decided to bring that sweet girl into her life? She almost shuddered. Jo didn't want to ponder on those scenario's any longer.

"So, you said the social services can't tell us anything?" Jo asked.

"Yes, that's right. It's for Fiona's, and her daughters protection."

"That can never be good. Let's hope that her last foster parents can enlighten us. Oh hang on a minute, they're not still under confidentiality obligations?"

"No, I checked, they have retired. They live in a 5 bedroom cottage in Brooklyn Heights."

"Nice area."

Mac looked across at Jo. He was concerned, she had been very short with him since she had woken this morning. Had he upset her, was it just the fragility of her emotional state? Not trying to be too arrogant, Mac knew that he was an accomplished detective. He was able to carry out investigations, detect and determine the cause of inconsistencies in stories or demeanour's quickly and close the case as quickly and as objectively as possible.

Jo though...she was, well Jo. A complex cocktail of emotions that were welcoming, sexy, heartbreaking and intriguing all at once. He couldn't read her at all. Her shire alluring nature was beyond frustrating for Mac. On the one hand, he couldn't help be drawn in by it, and then on the other, he didn't want to overstep the mark considering the revelations that had happened over the last twenty-four hours.

At that stage, Mac didn't know this of course. Naivety always comes with experience.


After about five more minutes, Mac pulled up outside the precinct. Flack had called the Smiths' and they had agreed to come down for an interview. Both detectives then got out of the car and entered the precinct. On the other side of the two-way mirror, the Smiths' sat hand in hand and looked a little worried and anxious. Then Mac and Jo entered the room and introduced themselves.

"Nice to meet you detectives" Gary said with a faint smile.

"We really appreciate you coming into see us." Jo replied. "We were wondering if you could tell us about one of your foster children. She was put into the system under Annie King, but you might know her as Fiona Kiddley?" Jo asked.

"Oh gosh Fiona. It's been so long." Freda breathed, her eyes looking past Mac and Jo, as if reliving her past.

"May we ask how she came into your care?"

"Well, we were able to conceive naturally and have had a beautiful son and daughter. However, with me working in children's councillor and my husband a headteacher, we saw a lot of mistreated children. We couldn't see that any longer without trying to make a difference."

Jo nodded. She completely understood that. She remembered that scene seeing Ellie as a baby surrounded by that squalor and instability. She was so grateful that Ellie was allowed to be a part of her.

"Was Fiona your first foster child?" Jo asked.

"No, we fostered 4 before her, we only had one at a time. Fiona was our last. We got her from the ages of 15-18. She seemed like a nice child, psychologically damaged, but sweet. She was quiet to begin with, insecure understandably. In the first few weeks, she rarely spoke; she was polite and obedient but it wasn't until a month had gone by that we learnt what her voice was like."

Mac grimaced. He imagined the mannerisms that Freda described were not too different from those of Georgiana's when he and Jo found her. He looked over at his colleague and decided that he would begin the interview again.

"Freda, Gary, I'm sorry to inform you of this, but Fiona has been attacked." Mac said as gently as possible.

Both husband and wife nearly recoiled to the corner of the room when Mac finished. "How badly?" Gary asked, his voice shook with fear.

Jo reached out and took Gary's hand. "It is bad, I'm afraid, but she will recover. She also has a daughter Georgiana, she was not hurt, but we are concerned about both and we are-" Jo paused, to take a deep breath. What was wrong with her? She could feel Mac's eyes on her and it just made it harder to compose herself.

Mac saw Jo seize up, he decided to continue. "What Detective Danville was trying to say was,"

Jo's head snapped up at this, how could he does this, undermine her while she was talking to them? She glared at Mac, unnoticed by all those in the room.

"Could you tell us about Fiona's time with you when her time in care was nearing an end?" Mac finished.

At this Freda and Gary both bowed their heads, a solemn and hurtful expression on their faces. The memories that were part of their final years caring for her were awful and caused great doubts in their ability to be parents.

Mac could see this. "Take your time." He soothed.

"She was struggling at school with bullies because people were aware of her being fostered. Then, as she got older, she began to mix with the wrong crowds. We knew that her biological parents were shady characters, so me and Freda were ever so concerned for her. She stopped looking after herself, began staying out late and barely speaking to us. If we did try, she's just snap at us that we didn't understand."

"It got to the point that we had no idea who Fiona was anymore. We knew that it was wrong, but one night, we decided to follow her. She ended up going into East Harlem and meeting some group of very shady young men. One of them she couldn't keep her hands off and neither could he. She had ripped jeans and a bomber jacket on. They drove off, deeper into the town and we lost them." Freda said, placing her head in her hands.

"2 weeks later, she turned 18. We gave her a present and she did appear grateful, but then she gave us a letter and told us she was going to move on, and we never saw her again." Gary added, sadness also written across his face.

"We're so sorry." Mac said. "Thank you for your cooperation Mr and Mrs Cole. That is all we need for now." Both husband and wife shook both detectives hands and then they left, Gary's arm around his wife's shoulders. Jo and Mac then left the room themselves.

Jo felt an immense fire of frustration within her stomach. 'This is why no vulnerability should be shown', she thought to herself. 'The only reward you get is being patronisingly wrapped in bubble wrap!'

Mac noticed that she was tense in her posture and features. "Jo? Are you alright?" Mac asked.

God! There was that question again! "Yes Mac, I'm fine" Jo almost snapped, between slightly gritted teeth. "Look, I'm assuming you want us to look into any gang's in East Harlem that have grown in size from the time Fiona was nearing the end of her care with the Cole's?" Jo asked.

"Yeah, that would be great." Mac replied slowly, perplexed.

Jo nodded. "We need to narrow down the 'occupation' of the likely gangs, then we can find out what we're dealing with. It is possible that Fiona met her parents, they pulled her in to whatever they were, or still are doing. Or it could be a different gang all together. At least we know the area. I'll let the team know, we can work together on this." She then walked away from Mac, towards the break room.

'Work together...' Mac echoed, his tone barely audible. How could they work together with Jo putting this distance between them? What had he done?


The conference room table was barely visible, splayed with coffee mugs, take out trays, pens, papers, and the occasional sticky note. The team had been teaming through every database they could think of and countless amounts of solved and unsolved cases, trying to find any connection between any of these gangs and Fiona.

"Right, so we're pretty certain that Fiona, one way or another got mixed up in a gang, almost certainly in East Harlem. So, the most likely 'occupations' are violence, money 'mafia' types and drugs.

"Well, I think we can pretty much rule out violence, as in that area, it is common place, gang or not. Also, the pool of suspects would be massive; there must have been a connection, family or otherwise that caused Fiona to be drawn to them." Lindsay points out.

"So, that leaves us with either money loans or drugs." Jo stated. It was the first thing she had said in awhile, which was unlike her, she knew that. However, she was sick of sympathy from Mac and being shot down any time she spoke, so she kept hush.

"I doubt that the money 'mafia' is a likely option now either, 10-15 years ago maybe," Adam said. "But now, that business has gone 'legit'," he said making the inverted comma sign with his fingers. "despite all the hell they cause. So, it's unlikely that Fiona is part of that. That leaves us with drugs."

All the team nodded in agreement.

"Okay, so we've got the Fraston and Verment Gang as the two most likely possibilities." Flack said.

"What do we know about them?" Mac asked.

Flack frowned then, where had he put that file? He couldn't see it clearly in amongst the sea of takeout rubbish. After a few minutes, he found it buried beneath several empty trays.

"Ah, here we go. Both gangs are experienced in manufacturing and distributing cocaine and heroin. Both in the East Harlem area as their origin, have similar tattoo symbols. The only aspect on the 'surface', as it were, that would make the Verment Gang less likely is that they have been in operation longer, appear smaller and 'traditionalist' in the gang world, if such a thing really exists. They have a small inner circle of members and then any sellers are always kept on a wide and loose leach. There is very little face to face contact and association with sellers is very minimal."

"So, if Fiona was to meet a seller for them, then she would be unlikely to meet the inner circle." Mac said.

"Meaning that her being a target for such as attack would be unlikely." Lindsay said.

"So the Fraston Gang. They have a complex web of a hierarchy, which is why they are so hard to track. They're smart bastards too. If any are arrested, it's usually disposable handlers of either the drugs or cash. They don't know much apart from places and amounts. Plus, they're clean forensically to anything concrete. The only evidence is usually a fingerprint on a burner cell found in a spot that a meet might have taken place at some point in the past 6 months. So, being circumstantial, we can't hold them and then they 'disappear'. Don said.

"You said they've only been able to find fingerprints?" Mac asked.

"Yeah that's right."

Jo looked up, she could see where Mac's mind was headed. She got up and grabbed the file of Fiona's attack; could one of the fingerprints found on the phone match one in her apartment?

"Is that Fiona's file?" Mac asked Jo.

"Yeah, I think you and me have had the same thought, I'll see if the finger prints match." Jo said, reaching for a magnifying glass.

"No worries Jo, I'll do it." Mac said, taking the file and magnifying glass from her hand.

Jo bit her tongue hard in order to stop herself from protesting. Why was he being like this? Overprotective, patronising and stopping her from doing her job? A job which she was good at! She took a gulp of her coffee which was too hot and it burnt her throat. Jo didn't show it though; she refused to show any sign of weakness.

"They're a match!" Mac said triumphantly.

"So we have a connection, great!" Adam said with a sigh of success and exhaustion.

"Uhh, guys?" Danny said. "I don't want to burst the bubble or anything, but the file is heavily redacted. The Franston gang must be being investigated by the FBI. If we want to get anywhere we've got to liaise with them, which will not be easy."

All the team stopped as the realisation hit.

Mac looked across at Jo. She had gone white. Russ was the liaison officer for the NYPD. What was she going to do? How could she function with him there? She then felt Mac's eyes on her and tentatively looked over. Fire then erupted in her stomach: that look! She couldn't stand it, apologetic, protective, patronising, suffocating. Irrationality pulsing through her veins, she excused herself, grabbed her coat and dashed out the room.

She was independent, her own woman, capable of making her own decisions without needing the approval of others. 'It's what I get for being stupid and opening up' she thought to herself. 'All that happens is a label placed upon me: weak, defenceless little Josie who has to just sit on the sidelines.' She was seething, she wanted to be alone.

And yet she felt lonely, so unbearably lonely.

The team were left stunned by this; it was entirely bizarre behaviour for Jo. After her departure, an awkward silence descended over the conference room. Naturally, everybody looked at Mac. He scanned his colleagues expression's, all being varying degrees of 'what the hell?', he cleared his throat and gave out instructions.

"Don, gather any information on members of the Fraston gang that have records, some must have been reckless enough to leave some form of trail or let slip some information. Danny, go to Sinclair, explain the situation and ask him to put in a liaison request. Adam, do a web search, see if you can find any means of communication that the gang uses, forum whatever. Lindsay, go through any evidence that we have in our custody from the gang, see if you can identify the chemical make-up of the drugs, it might help us to a later date."

They all nodded and left the room. They all highly respected Mac, but they couldn't ignore their concern for Jo.


Jo was sitting at the breakfast bar in her kitchen, the room only lit dimly by a few lights over her head. A half empty bottle of Sauvignon Blanc was placed on the table, a completely empty wine glass its only company. Jo had already drunk half the bottle and she was slowly feeling the alcohol numb her mind, the intoxication slowly washing over her. Jo was only tipsy, but she welcomed the gradual and blissful emptying of her mind. She closed her eyes, wanting to forget her job, her stress, herself for a few moments. But of course, that was never possible. Jo was a cop, it was in her soul. The near obsessive dedication to justice; the fascination with how the most natural and amazing creations such as blood, sweat and tears could ensure it was served. How addictive it was to see the once calm demeanour of a suspect unravel as each piece of evidence was placed in front of them, it was never tiresome. However, there were and always would be days that weren't as triumphantly positive. Such as those when you watch a decent, loving person's world be turned upside down with one sentence that leaves your lips, one image that will never leave there minds, one nod of their head which confirms your worst fears. It is them, their loved one, their husband, wife, father, mother, son or daughter. Lying there, unmoving, never to move again peaceful and cold.

Today was one of those days. However, Jo was not the barer of bad news. She was on the receiving end. Behind the glass, she stood, only able to watch as her life is twisted, turned and thrown in the air. Exposed. For the world to see. For the world to pity her, to look down upon her, to scrutinise and judge her. She felt so small, so helpless. The alcohol was now pulsing within Jo's veins, her heartbeat raised and she had reached the point at which the line between rationality and intoxication fuelled irrationality had become blurred. Suddenly images began to fill her mind of Mac. The one person who she thought understood her, how she worked and how she deserved to be treated. 'No, wrong judgement again Jo', her subconscious spat. 'He wants to undermine you, just like he did!'

All the memories of Mac and Russ, past and present, their mannerisms, body language and their tone of voice all became malleable within Jo's mind, their objective individuality dissolved. They were one, one painful memory. Jo's head was spinning. How had one case caused her mental strength to unravel at such a pace? Why this particular one? Why not another? There was some uneasy familiarity surrounding Fiona's case that Jo couldn't place her finger on, despite the obvious aspect of 'victimology'. That word, that label. Jo could almost feel it gliding over her skin, gnawing at her soul, incasing it. Was that how Mac saw her now? A victim, vulnerable and weak? With a sigh, Jo poured the last of the wine into her glass.

"Jo?" When Jo heard her name, she spun around and saw Mac. She froze, suddenly more aware of things, the open windows, the cold air and ferocious roar of the city streets.

"Oh, hi Mac." Jo stood, turned around and placed a hand in her hair. "Shift ended? That was quick. Jo laughed nervously.

Mac saw the empty wine bottle on the table and the quarter-full glass almost instantly. "Jo, how much have you drank?" Mac asked, concerned, as he came closer to her.

"Why does it matter Mac? I'm in my own home." Jo stated, moving over to the bay window of her apartment. She looked out at the streets and lively New York landscape.

Mac sighed inaudibly. He stayed where he was for a few more moments; he just looked at Jo. Her posture was ridged, her legs were slightly apart, her left arm was across her abdomen, her delicate fingers were toying with the silk cashmere of her baby pink cardigan. Her right arm was at the base of her hair, twisting a strand between her thumb and forefinger. Her hair had previously been tied up, presumably when damp as now it was loose, it had a natural and elegant curl at the end that draped her shoulders majestically. Her right hand dropped from her hair, in order to reach for the wine glass. Once it was within her grasp, she took a long sip, her gaze still fixed on the skyline.

Mac moved closer then and lent against the counter, directly behind her. "Penny for your thoughts?" Mac asked simply.

Jo bowed her head momentarily. "How do you see me Mac? How would you...describe me?" Her voice was low and thick.

There was a pause and anxiety rose in Jo's throat. Unable to bare it any longer, she turned. Mac had a calm expression on his face. "Well," Mac began, as he loosened his tie and cuffs, removed both, rolled the sleeves of his navy blue shirt up and undid a few buttons of his shirt. "How do you think I see you Jo?" Mac asked

Jo bit her lip. She didn't know how to answer that, the intoxication of the wine was clouding her concentration. How did she answer this? Honest and he could be mad, dishonest he could also be mad. 'You have to be strong Jo, take control' her subconscious encouraged her.

"Well...it seems, since I told you about my past with Russ to you the other night, you have been overly protective of me, constantly checking if I'm okay, taking over from me in interviews, doing the most menial tasks for me. It's as if, since I told you about it, you've treated me as if I'm a victim, weak, helpless and vulnerable and I'm not Mac! I've fought it and I'm here, an independent woman, capable and damn good at my job. Now..." Jo trailed off.

Mac didn't say anything, only waited for her to continue.

"Now though, Russ will be here," She stopped, taking a deep breath. "He'll be working with us and all that hard work will be diminished, turned to dust. It will all just go back to how it was before."

Mac shook his head. Not wanting to give Jo the wrong impression, he looked at her and took her hands in his.

"Jo, I know that thought must be terrifying for you, and I don't like it any more than you do, but we will get through it, I promise you. As for how I see you, I see you as an independent, capable woman who is charismatic, beautiful, a wonderful mother, colleague, friend and damn good at her job!" Mac smiled tenderly at her, moving slightly closer to her.

Jo scanned his face, body language, played his tone over in her head again; she expected to find some form of falseness in at least one aspect. After a few minutes Jo had still found none. She had been so focused on finding some arterial motive for such kind words, she hadn't even noticed Mac was now a lot closer to her.

There was now barely an inch between the two of them. Mac was momentarily unaware of their closeness himself, Mac froze, he didn't want to make Jo feel uncomfortable, but he couldn't have stopped himself. 'What the hell am I doing?' Mac thought to himself. He knew that this was dangerous territory for him to enter, he'd done it once and he had been burned.

He was brought out of his thoughts when he felt Jo's hands on his chest. "Beautiful?"

She was so spellbindingly beautiful and yet so insecure. Mac only nodded, there were so many emotions rushing through him, he was afraid to speak.

"Mac, that's...so sweet. It's been so long since someone has said anything like that to me sincerely."

"You deserve to hear it every day." Jo smiled, a little pink hue rising in her cheeks.

"I don't know how...but you always make me blush." Jo breathed, her voice was slower, deeper in tone. It sent a shiver down Mac's spine.

Mac smiled. "I won't apologise." Their noses were almost touching now. Mac breathed in the scent of her perfume, it's strength almost heady in this close proximity.

Jo sighed pleasurably. She thought that any situation like this would make her feel claustrophobic ever since Russ, but here she felt in control and safe. Mac could have just stayed as they were for an eternity. It had been a long time he had felt so happily lost in such as simplistic moment. He wanted to revel in it. Jo now had her head resting in the crook of his neck.

"This is so nice." Jo breathed, her breath tickling his neck.

"Hmm." was the only response she received, Mac encircled his arms around her waist. Feeling this, Jo looked up, directly into his eyes, as if she could see his soul.

"I don't want to think about anything tonight..."

"You don't have to Jo," Mac paused, his expression changed slightly to one of concern. He sighed. "Is this what you want? I don't want to push anything...I don't want to hurt you." Mac said softly.

Jo smiled sympathetically and stroked Mac's cheek and jawline. "Mac...I know I'm in a fragile place, but I haven't been able to feel as safe as I do with you for so long. I know you've been through the terrible loss of Claire and some turbulent relationships thereafter, but this isn't just a drunken method of distraction. I need to feel safe again, I need-"

Mac placed a finger to her lips gently. "You're always safe with me Jo." Mac whispered, his face lowered and angled so his lips were perfectly level Jo's. "Always."

With that, his lips met hers, the sensation was firelighting for Jo. So warm, so gentle. Her breath hitched in her throat at the rush. It wasn't long until she asked to deepen the kiss, applying more pressure on his lips. Within seconds Mac obliged, tightening his grip on her waist and gently pulling her closer. Jo wrapped her arms around his neck in order to close the gap between them completely. With every second, every kiss, every touch, their worlds became increasingly silent. The noise from the streets melted away and worries evaporated. The only focus was each other, their movements, their sighs of delight and the softness of their lips.


In a dimly lit, distasteful and flooded back ally in the dark underbelly of New York, Jackson paced back and forth, each pace sending his blood pressure through the roof.

"What the hell happened? Your job wasn't difficult!"

"She was stronger than anticipated boss!"

"Oh for the love of God! No, she wasn't, you're just a weak bastard! Where is she now?"

"She's in the hospital...the cops found her."

"The hospital. Great, just great! You are on thin ice you SOB you hear me!? You know what's at stake here!"

"I know...I'm sorry. What are we going to do now?"

"I'll be in touch."

With that, the conversation ended and the instigator stormed out of the ally. He threw his phone into a nearby bin as his silhouette dissolved into the inky darkness of New York at midnight. The only trace was the steady pace of the light to dim orange tones of a cigarette and the heady smell of tobacco.


I KNOW ITS BEEN A LONG TIME BUT HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED IT. ALL REVIEWS ARE APPRECIATED.