A/N: So sorry it took me so long! Please enjoy this chapter! And review, 'cause I am a review whore. I average 3 a chapter, so I'm pleased with that. Keep 'em coming my lovelies! And I'm sorry for this chapter in advance... don't hate me too much.

thewannabe: I hope you like this new installment!
SuperNerdy7777: Thanks! I know, it's hard to come by good humanized fics, and I'm glad you like mine so much!
CuteButTheDevil: Oh, that's a nifty idea! I'll see if I can work it in somehow, but I make no promises. Maybe in a one-shot when this fic is done?

WARNING: Language, sexual references

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Despite the time he'd fallen asleep, the only reason Ozzy woke up the next morning early was because of a phone call. Groaning, he reached over to his bedside table and fumbled for his cell, coming up empty. An exhausted sigh escaped him and he proceeded to stand and stumble towards his jacket on the floor, and procured his phone from the pocket. Reese's name flashed on the screen, and it vibrated angrily in his hands as he pressed a button and held it to his ear.

"Hello...?"

"Hey Ozzy! Were you sleeping?"

Stifling a yawn, Ozzy nodded before remembering his friend couldn't see him.

"Yeah, but it's okay. What's up?"

"Uh, you work today? I'm here to get you."

Ah, shit.

"Er, I'm actually a little..." he broke off and started coughing violently into his arm, trying to find a way to make it believable but not over the top, "...sick today."

There was a small pause and then Reese answered with, "Alright, well... that's a load of crap. I'll wait ten more minutes and then you have to walk."

"Fine," a pause, "thanks."

After hanging up with Reese, the cop sat back on his bed and sighed, resting his head in his hands. What was going on? His brain was still swimming, but he tried his best to remember everything despite the dizziness. The last thing he remembered for sure was leaving Ariadne to kill the spider by herself. Thrax had brought him home, and then-no. No. It never happened. Panic set in and he bolted upright and began pacing, shaking his head with wide eyes. No, they most certainly did not have sex. He did not like it. He especially didn't like that it was Thrax who made him feel that way. He did not like the way Thrax had said his name.

Thrax said his name.

Ozzy's heart beat a little bit faster in his chest, and a warmness filled him as a flush rose to his face. It had been the first time the crime lord had said his first name. And when they were in such a compromising position... but he couldn't deny that it made him happy. Something about not being just 'Mr. Jones' to Thrax made him want to smile. He frowned instead, irked that he felt that way. Ozzy rubbed the back of his neck and cracked his spine all the way to the top, stretching as he gathered up some clothes to wear. The ones he had yesterday were still clean. As he dressed, he vaguely took note of the fact that he had been washed up after last nights... activities. Only vaguely though, because he didn't want to feel any gratitude for the guy. As he left his bedroom to catch up with Reese, he spotted the white envelope on his dresser. It was the eviction notice, and when he checked it he found the date to be just a few days away. He swallowed and grabbed his jacket, jogging the rest of the way.

Reese greeted him with a knowing smile and a clap on his shoulder as he turned the key in the ignition; never one to waste gas. "Morning Sleeping Beauty," he chuckled, starting into a smooth drive as soon as Ozzy had his seat belt on. "I am so not in the mood for this, Reese," the shorter said with a sigh, though humor laced his tone. Reese looked at him fully for the first time then, and noticed the dark circle under his eye and the white bandage. He hummed in acknowledgement and turned the radio on to a rather chipper station, ending any start of a conversation. Whatever had happened would be spilled eventually, so he wasn't too concerned... not really. But he also knew Ozzy hadn't had his breakfast yet, which meant no coffee, which meant no happy Ozzy. They stopped at a drive through and Reese bought himself a bagel and tea, and a large black coffee for his car partner. The smaller man took it with a nod of thanks, instantly gulping a swig of the hot beverage. The silence was only broken when they parked in the lot at the station.

"So why didn't you want to come in today?"

The question was casual, but both knew the answer was serious. Ozzy didn't quite know how to answer. It was everything put together, he guessed, the wounds and the fact that he had been fucked by the biggest, most bad ass man in all of Frank. Instead of answering in such a way, he was prepared to lie, but Reese spoke before he could.

"Look, whatever is going on with you, it's not good." He gestured to the black circle around Ozzy's eye, mouth frowning in concern. "You're getting hurt, and I know you didn't tell Silver. But..." he trailed off, looking at his lap and rubbing at his hands, "You can tell me, you know..."

The guilt of his secret was heavy on his shoulders as Ozzy looked at his friend, torn between telling him to mind his own fucking business and spilling everything. In the end, silence won out, and he looked out the window. He knew Reese only wanted to help; he really did. But there was no way he could tell him. Finally, he got up out of the car and slammed the door, pulling his coat farther up his shoulders. He went into the station and signed in mechanically, keeping his eyes downcast for the rest of the day.

When at last his shift was over, Ozzy bolted out the door. He hadn't spoken to Reese all day, and he wanted to keep it that way. What was he supposed to say exactly? There really wasn't anything that could be said. Ozzy was keeping a secret from his best friend; one that was hurting him in more ways than he knew. His friend in turn was only trying to help, to shoulder the burden and assist in any way he could. But... it wasn't just Ozzy's reputation that was at stake. It was his life. It was Reese's life, if things turned sour. Hell... he didn't even want to be around if things went bad. But he couldn't risk his friends life, even if it meant he himself got to sleep a little better. As much as Reese wanted to help... he just couldn't let him.

Nothing was worth that.

Sure, they had fights. But all friends had fights. Right? The one big one they'd gotten into had been brutal, but it had more or less resolved itself. There was no need to talk about it. Drix had been to blame for it, and while Reese had been responsible too, he was more of an accomplice. Being part of the law, Ozzy had the mentality that that proved right there he was to blame, but well... Drix was just looking out for Ozzy, by way of Reese, even if the way he went about it was poor, his intentions were good. He had the right motive.

It didn't mean Ozzy felt bad about breaking his nose over it, though.

The rebel cop was just doing up his jacket when a hand fell on his shoulder, heavy, and the person leaned against him in a way that was almost desperate. Ozzy tensed and clenched his fist, ready to bury it the mans face, but turned to see Reese, looking tired and scared. His red hair was messy and he had a split lip, blood dripping down the side of his face. He was paler than normal, and Ozzy grabbed his shoulders and shook him gently, brow creasing downwards.

"Reese? What's wrong?"

The redheaded scientist gave a small quirk in the corner of his mouth, and then something hit him, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He slumped forward, and Ozzy barely had time to catch him before his own eyes widened. Behind Reese was a very short man with black sunglasses, holding a gun pointed at his face.

"Get in the car."

On cue, a grey van with no plates pulled up to the curb, right in front of the station like they fucking owned the place. Ozzy wrapped his arms around Reese, who was still unconscious and all but glared daggers at the man. "I don't take orders from scum, you piece o-" But the gun cocked, and a click sounded. Swallowing thickly, the shorter man got into the car with his friend, receiving no help from the other. The short man smiled from behind dark shades, tucking the gun into his pocket discreetly and getting in the front of the van. It sped away, a trail of newspapers spinning behind it.

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"I don't know what you're trying to accomplish, Variola."

Thrax sighed deeply, sipping his alcohol with deliberate casualness. He sat reclined in a pleasantly comfortable leather chair, smoking a cigar and nursing his drink. The dark skinned man was entirely at ease, head cocked to the side leaning on his fist, one leg crossing the other. Variola was perched on the side of his desk, inspecting his own drink and making his wrist do circles, watching the amber flow over the ice delicately. His black hair was slicked back and his eyes were sharp, not their usual laid back pools.

All things said and done, it was the strangest summoning Thrax had had. Variola had called him up in broad daylight, requesting a meeting. At Thrax's mansion, as per was usual, but with the authority that he knew Thrax couldn't refuse him. They'd always been... well, not friends, to be certain, but civil. Civil enough to let the other, normally Thrax, offer up their place for meetings. This was strange, but it wasn't the only thing that was odd.

He couldn't put his finger on it, but the man seemed a little smug. Too smug for his liking.

"That's the beauty of this," Variola murmured, standing up and straightening his shoulders, "You don't have to know. Tonight..." he trailed around the table, coming to stop behind Thrax's chair, where he placed a possessive hand on the back, "you just have to listen."

The hand wandered down to Thrax's shoulder, which it squeezed in a sensual way, before his fingers tightened into a vice like grip that was downright feral. Variola leaned down, his oiled back hair tickling the side of Thrax's neck as he breathed by his ear. "I have some things of yours," he stood up and walked around to the front of the desk, sitting down in a guest chair, "and I know you'll want them back."

Anger ticked at the corner of his mouth, and the unwanted closeness of Variola had sent an unpleasant tingle down his spine. He made certain his voice was steady when he spoke, giving it a sarcastic tone. "Oh? And I suppose you'll now tell me what these things are." Variola nodded his head solemnly, looking down at his lap in momentary discomfort. He straightened out his face and licked his lips, taking his time and choosing his words carefully.

"You have two storehouses on Ainsley. I have men heading there right now."

Thrax raised an eyebrow, taking another sip of his drink, slightly bigger this time. He switched his legs around, getting into a more comfy position. "So I do. But, no longer. They were moved yesterday, when I caught some men sneaking around." Here, he took a long drag on his cigar, humming appreciatively at the taste. "I can't have snoops where they don't belong, now can I?" If that was all it was, there was no problem.

"You have one in Sargeant underneath the deli, and Cliff is currently holding a shipment for you."

Ah, so they'd gotten to Cliff. That did sway some of his plans... regardless, if all they wanted was the shipment, they still needed the passcode from Lawrence across from Maine.

"Lawrence was found dead this morning. I have his head. It's in the car, if you'd like to see it..." Variola gestured behind him to the door of the study, looking entirely too innocent. Thrax felt his mouth go dry. The man was playing with fire, and he should know that a blaze such as him was not to be tested. Fire is all consuming, and he had every intention of getting back his stolen goods, and killing the group to prove it. Perhaps, he thought, swallowing, it was time to make his move. Frank could only support two of them for so long, and if Variola was going on the offensive... so would he.

"I know more than you think. That's just the beginning." Variola took something out of his pocket, a fine chain clinking in his fingers. "There's something else you should know. I happened upon these..." he pulled a folder out of his pocket, the orange stock paper bright in the dim lamp light. He slid it across the desk to Thrax, who eyed it warily. He opened it, and his breath caught in his throat at what he saw.

It was Ozzy of course, there was no question. It was him, tucked into his own bed, exhausted from the bout of sex he'd just had. Thrax knew, because he'd been the one to leave him in that state. There were more, and as he flicked through them, they became more intimate, going back in time to the party they had first met at. One in particular caught his eye, tucked between a piece of plain white paper. He pulled it out to look at it closer, and found that it was a recent photo, the time stamp showing it had been taken not two hours before. It was a little blurred at the edges, as though taken in motion, but there was no mistaking what was going on. Ozzy was laying in a pool of his own blood. He had no shirt, and several long gashes covered his body, over the bruises that were still fresh on his caramel skin. Bile rose in Thrax's throat, and a rage came over him in a wash of heat. The beast inside him wanted to strangle Variola, to cut off his dick and make him swallow it whole.

Instead, he closed his eyes for a moment to clear his thoughts, closing the folder and leaning back in his chair.

"I don't know what you hope to get from this, the same as I didn't earlier. This man means nothing to me." If you so much as glance at him I will stab your motherfucking heart.

Variola clicked his tongue, finishing his drink and placing it on the tray on the desk, straightening his black suit. He shrugged nonchalantly "If you say so. But know that I do intend to kill him when I get back." He placed the object in his hand on the desk as he left, leaving Thrax to stare at it, trembling. Variola left, closing the heavy wood door gently behind him.

On the mahogany desk was the black dagger pendant he had given to Ozzy. It was crusted with dark blood, and a small piece of yellow paper had an address written on it.

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Ozzy opened his eyes sluggishly, blinking at the harsh light streaming in through the wall of windows. The door across the way had opened and closed, and a harsh groan echoed in the large room.

"Reese?"

Another low groan, this time almost a mewl, and he knew it was his friend. Ozzy rolled over, wincing and spitting blood out of his mouth, coming face to face with Reese. The redhead looked worse off than Ozzy did, with a broken nose and two black eyes. A tooth was missing from his perfect smile, and his glasses were nonexistent The cop would have tried to soothe the wounds, but his own were numerous and aching, and his wrists were cuffed behind his back. They chaffed, but it was nothing compared to the agony that pulsed through his body with each heartbeat.

They'd been brought to a warehouse somewhere in the city, in broad daylight, and beaten. Ozzy had opted to try and keep Reese out of it, using his sharp tongue to get into trouble purposely. Unfortunately they seemed to guess at his plan, and when they started on Reese, he had become compliant. It was one thing to force them to beat him, but it was a different matter entirely when his actions brought pain to his friends. There was nobody else in the room, and Reese took advantage of it.

"Oz... I... I think my leg is broken," it wasn't the only thing broken either, as his voice gave out close to the end. Ozzy looked at him, trying to edge closer and give him some bodily comfort, but his body screamed at him to stop moving. He was sweating profusely from pain, and he stopping wriggling and panted quietly, pressing his face into the cool concrete. After a moment of quiet, "They used a crowbar Ozzy... a crowbar..." The rebel cop closed his eyes tightly, cringing at the tone. Reese was many things, but a field officer he was not. This wasn't supposed to happen. It was Variola, the bastard, and Ozzy knew it. Out to get the cops and make sure nobody knew about it. It was the only thing he could think of, given the circumstances. There was no way it was anything else.

Unless... his breath caught in his throat.

Unless they knew about him and Thrax.

"Reese," he murmured, trying to sit up, and achieving a small amount of success, moaning as he tried to keep himself from falling over again, "I..."

What could he say? I'm sorry for getting you into trouble. It's all my fault. See, I fucked Thrax a while back and it looks like Variola found out. He's going to kill us now. Sorry about that. Hell no.

But there was nothing else to do, and he spat out another gob of blood, letting his shoulders droop as he whispered, "I'm sorry. For everything."

At the same time, the door opened again and the sound of polished shoes filled the room. Ozzy turned in time to be kicked squarely in the face, knocking him against Reese violently. He groaned and so did the scientist, before Ozzy was picked up by the front of his torn shirt, and thrown into a chair. His hands were uncuffed and then cuffed again so fast he didn't have time to blink, and when he opened his eyes he wished he hadn't. Variola stood in front of him proudly, two bodyguards on either side of him. Behind him, the elavator doors were still open, and another chair was being brought into the otherwise empty room. Another guard slammed the chair down a few feet from Ozzy's, and Reese got the same treatment despite the redheads protests.

The silence following wasn't long, as Ozzy broke it with a snarl, "What the fuck do you want Variola?" One of the bodyguards pulled out the crowbar they'd been beaten with earlier and smacked him across the face. It took a moment for the pain to register, and when it did Ozzy all but screamed. Red clouded his vision as he turned his brown glare back on the crime lord, daring him to do it again. Variola sensed the challenge and smile knowingly, bending down a bit so he was eye level with the smaller man. "I want Thrax's little whore dead, that's all."

There was a sharp intake of breath from Ozzy, and in turn Reese side glanced at him through mussed red hair. His green eyes were clouded with agony, but searched Ozzy's own for the truth. Variola had to be lying, he thought desperately, Ozzy wouldn't... he would never...

But Ozzy kept quiet, and that in itself was defeat.

"If you kill me, Thrax won't blink an eye." Ozzy hissed suddenly, though he didn't sound sure of himself. The lie came out smoothly, and he wished it sounded more sincere.

Variola just shrugged before standing up straight again, "Perhaps. But even if he doesn't, I've still killed two of Frank's officers." He picked a hair off of his shoulder and wiped it away. "Not that you were much trouble to begin with."

Reese made a sound in his throat then, his lean form hunched in an unnatural curve as he tried to sit up. His voice was gravelly, like he was hoarse from screaming. It was possible, Ozzy knew, that that's exactly what it was. "The police will do everything they can to shut you down. We have more than enough evidence, and when we ge-"

"See, one needs witnesses to testify. In about," he checked his Rolex, "an hour, none of this will matter. I'll be on my way, and there will be three bodies for our precious little police department to take care of."

The cops glanced at each other. Three bodies? Reese looked like he was about to ask, but a glare from Ozzy made him hang his head.

"I don't suppose the third body would be mine?" Thrax stood in the doorway of the elevator, leaning against the side casually. The blue garnet chain was wrapped loosely around his hand, and the gun he'd bought from the dealer about a week before pointed at Variola. He looked at his nails and picked something out from beneath his thumb, turning his torso to look into the room. He stared at Ozzy. Golden eyes smoldered, so dark they were near black. The cop had never seen the mans eyes so murky, filled with a rage he found hard to level with. A shiver ran through him at seeing the other crime lord, and he let out a soft sigh of relief, silent and only visible to Thrax, who watched him carefully.

Variola smirked again, and turned from Ozzy to Thrax, raising his own gun and shooting before anyone could take a breath. It hit the side of the elavator and bounced, ricocheting and embedding itself into the wall. Thrax had crouched out of the way, and he cocked his own weapon in a threatening matter. He knew the man hadn't been aiming for him, so why shoot?

When he turned he noticed the top of the elevator was opened to show the various cords, and a small bomb attached to them. Widening his eyes, he turned to try and get out, but Variola was faster. With a single kick, he knocked the dark skinned man into the elevator, pressing the 'close door' button on the side. He kept his gun aimed at Thrax, who could only stare as the doors closed. Ozzy released a cry like that of a wounded animal, lurching forward in his bindings and shouting Thrax's name before he could stop himself.

The explosion happened just as the doors closed, followed by another as the large box fell the two floors to the bottom of the shaft. The last thing Thrax saw before blacking out was Ozzy's panicked expression.

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A/N: WHEW. Okay. I'm sorry to leave it there, I really am. I'll update again soon!