A/N: Hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving!

Also, so glad you all enjoyed Raph and Nia's clumsy understanding. ;D

CHAPTER 20: DETECTIVE

When Casey had said his apartment was a rat hole, he hadn't been giving it enough credit.

Not only did it hold prime real-estate in a crack-head hotspot, its maneuverability matched that of a double-wide railcar. The walls' plaster chipped and smelled like musk. The tacky floor ensured the redhead kept her shoes on. And it was furnished by little more than a mattress and scuffed nightstand. No rugs. No privacy. No air fresheners. One window alone seemed to be a treat, as the other window above the kitchen sink had been boarded up instead of replaced.

April's first instinct had been to scream—either in terror or aggravation, whichever would be more suitable. But she had withheld by reminding herself that she'd be on hand should the Hamatos need her. Even if she needed to fend of cockroaches while she slept.

"Casey." April's eyes roamed the refrigerator's scant contents then settled on the man lazing on the mattress. "Casey!"

"What, Red?" Casey answered. He kept his eyes set on a small television.

"Leftover pizza and beer is hardly a diet."

"It's worked for me so far."

April sighed as she shut the fridge door, its glass bottles rattling on the inside. "Really, Arnold. You don't even have any more water bottles."

"There's a tap."

The redhead paled at the dish-clogged sink Casey pointed towards. "No way in hell am I drinking anything that comes out of that."

Casey huffed. "Then why not go shoppin' instead 'a complainin'?"

"Maybe I will!" After grabbing her windbreaker, April left her boyfriend to his wrestling show then stormed outside the apartment.

Jeez. Since when did she become so easily dismissed? While Casey may've been exhausted from patrolling with Leonardo and Raphael, that gave him no right to be flippant! Did he honestly expect her to be content with beer and pizza? Beer wasn't even a real drink! How had he lived this long?

Right, usually she cooked.

With a shake of her head, April stepped onto the building's cracked stoop. September's wind teased the loose hairs that strayed from her bun and warmed her to the point where she wished she'd snatched a pair of shorts that morning instead of blue jeans.

'Better safe than sorry, I guess,' she thought. 'Least I have a t-shirt.' Smiling, the redhead tied the windbreaker around her waist and began her journey.

April had made good timing while shopping in Korea Town. In under an hour, she waited to checkout at Rae's Market, but then spotted something that could ruin her goal and mood.

'Maybe if I duck, he'll—"

"Miss O'Neil?"

Mid-duck, April turned. A dark-skinned man dressed in semi-casual clothes towered over the general crowd. He cut through them, his focus trained on the redhead's smile.

"Detective Reese," April said with difficulty. "What're you doing here?"

The detective's mouth twitched into a grin that showcased a dimple on his left cheek. "Same as you, I imagine," he answered. "Shopping for dinner. You come here often?"

"No. Not really. This is my first time, actually."

"Ah, well, Rae's is great. I stop here weekly for my wife. She loves Asian food."

"Oh, does she?"

"She's obsessed with it. We eat it so often I'm surprised we're not Korean ourselves."

April snickered alongside the detective. 'Please don't mention Nia. Please don't mention Nia.'

"Where's Nia?" Hugh surveyed the market. "I thought you were in Northampton getting some 'old-fashioned farm air'."

"We were. Did." April shifted the basket handles she held from one hand to the other. "We came back the other day."

"And never notified me."

"Sorry. It slipped our minds."

"You could make it up to me by letting me see Nia."

April quirked an eyebrow before she knew it. "Why do you have such an interest in Nia, Detective?"

Hugh paused then sighed. When his eyes caught April again, he said, "I'll tell you. But not here. Bryant Park is seven blocks up the street. Let's sit there."

"Okay…"

April and Hugh walked in silence. They settled on a bench in Bryant Park's center and hesitated before either one disturbed the tranquil scene of late-summer botany.

"Alright, why the interest in Nia?" April asked.

"I'm worried," Hugh replied.

"Yes. But why?"

A long sigh escaped the detective. "Because it's the only way I can think to honor Mia."

"Mia?" April's attention found Hugh, her eyes round. "You mean Mia Anders?"

The detective nodded.

"You knew her."

"Yeah. We grew up together. In a way."

April's focus returned to the potted Caladiums ahead. "What do you mean by 'in a way'?"

Hugh sucked in a sharp breath. "You could say we came from separate sides of the railroad track. Literally. We lived in southern New Hampshire, oh, about thirty-some years ago. We were both born in Hillsborough County. But I came from a trailer park, and she came from a place where they verify your Social Security on a daily basis."

"So"—April smirked—"you were the Princess and the Pauper?"

"Something like that. We were around seven or eight when we first met. And she hated me."

"What? Was she taught not mingle with commoners?" Amusement laced April's tone, yet Hugh's scoff showed no appreciation for it.

"Not commoners. African-Americans."

April bit her lip, trailing off with a soft "Oh.".

"Mia's maiden name is Johnson," continued Hugh. "And the Johnsons are infamous for their white supremacy. Back then, Mia carried on the family tradition with pride. When we crossed paths in the woods that separated our worlds, she claimed a monopoly on it."

"Gutsy."

"No. Annoying. I lead a gang at the time, which consisted of my little sister and a few friends from Poorsville."

"Poorsville?"

"That's what they called our neighborhood."

"The children?"

"The adults."

April's lips pursed just thinking about the disrespect.

"Anyways," Hugh added, "we squabbled for years, trying to outmaneuver one another. That land became something more than a place for a fort. It became a principle, and neither group would give it up. Personally, I fought to make it a point that blacks and whites have equal chances."

"What about her?"

Hugh chuckled as he rubbed his long hands. A fondness grew inside him during his tale. April sensed it from his reminiscent tone and distant eyes. The man smiled—a fleeting action which came then went depending on the word spoken.

"Mia fought out of pure stubbornness and because she's a sore loser," Hugh said with quirked lips. "But somewhere between middle school and junior high the war became a game. Then by freshman year I realized something scary: I had a crush on Mia."

The redhead raised an eyebrow.

"Right?" Hugh asked. "Here was a girl who hated me for a million and one reasons. Obviously, the crush would remain one-sided. Or so I thought."

April shifted along the stone bench, studying a Mum's many petals. "You're Mia's ex?"

"And for the longest time I—I thought I was her soul mate."

"What happened?"

"We secretly dated. We didn't attend the same school, so keeping things under wraps was doable. Until graduation."

April cringed in preparation for the story's sour turn.

"We wanted to marry and agreed we should have her family's blessing. Or pardon. I tell you what; she did some serious convincing to get me in that house. And what happened after…" Hugh's mouth grew taunt. "In short, I drew blood on her brother. Police got involved. Mia was disowned. So we left Nashua, came to New York for a fresh start."

How does one respond to such news? That's tough, Man? Sorry? Nothing that came to April's mind seemed tactful enough, so she sought another approach.

"You two went through so much together," she started. "What drove you apart?"

A haunting emotion overshadowed Hugh as his shoulders slumped. "Honestly? Me. We postponed marriage for our careers. Mia studied realty while I found a passion with the NYPD. My job…consumed me. Which hampered Mia's plans."

"What plans were those?"

"Children. I wasn't ready. Didn't want them. So we fought about it until a wedge formed between us."

"I—I'm sorry," April said, automatic yet honest.

Hugh shook his head once. "Part of me thought that, given time, we'd find each other again. Only when we did, Mia was with Gavin—a guy I, uh, never saw eye-to-eye with."

"Why not?"

"For one, I had arrested him on several occasions. That tends to strain a friendship."

"You arrested Gavin? What for?"

"Assault, mostly. Sometimes, possession or arson. He was a drug runner for the Forty-Four Crew back in eighty-nine."

Wait. Was he kidding? Gavin? The only man April knew who walked with grace? The one with a refined appreciation for South American statues? A former drug runner?

"You'll catch flies with your mouth open like that, Miss O'Neil."

"Sorry. I—I'm just." The redhead blinked for focus. "Mind-boggled."

Hugh gave a morose laugh. "I was too, but for reasons unlike yours. Gavin was dangerous, good at his job. Like he'd been doing it for years prior to what his immigration papers indicated. He always found scapegoats and loopholes in the Law."

"So he was never convicted?"

"Not once. And Mia became convinced she could…I don't know, save him."

"Well." April's hands wrung as she imagined Casey. "Sometimes, a woman can save her man. No matter how retarded he is."

"Yeah. Anyways, Mia and I lost touch. Think the last contact I had with her was nearly sixteen years ago, when she adopted Nia."

"It makes sense for you—" April froze. "Did you just say Nia's adopted?"

Hugh met the redhead's stunned expression evenly. "I did. After Mia married Gavin, she discovered she couldn't…have children."

"I—I never would've thought—"

"Why would you? I imagine Nia's adoption wasn't something they paraded around."

"Still…"

"Mia wrote a letter the day they took Nia home. A final goodbye. Guess she remembered me well enough to know I needed it." Hugh released a controlled sigh through his wide nostrils. "I'd been harping on the things I could've done to keep Mia. When she severed herself, I felt…relieved, as if freed me from a spell. Just in time, too. I met my wife in the following month."

"Wow." April slumped against the bench's backrest, breath lost and mind reeling.

'So, I knew the Anders less than I thought I did. Not really surprising, but this means Nia…'

Nia had an unknown biological lineage.

'Could explain her weird…feeling. And Iníon. Gavin may've known all along, but didn't want Nia to know she's adopted. Why not? Doesn't seem like good prioritization.'

"Miss O'Neil." April caught Hugh's stern gaze as he continued. "Mia was my first love. Call me a romantic, but no matter how far we drift, she'll always own part of my heart. She wanted so badly to become a mother. I know Nia must've been her life. If I protect that girl, maybe Mia's spirit rest in peace and…maybe she'll forgive me. Which is my reason for calling every day."

"Sometimes twice a day. You're rather persistent."

"So I've been told."

April wished to join Hugh's chuckle, but was hindered by her thoughts.

'If he cares this much, maybe he can help. It wouldn't hurt to have a police officer as back-up, even if he borderlines harassment at times.'

"Reese?" April asked, tentative. "Could I ask a favor?"

The man's smile died, black brows furrowed. "Depends," he countered.

"On what?"

"On whether or not you're asking Hugh Reese or Detective Reese."

"I'm asking Detective Reese." April paused to ensure she earned the Hugh's consideration. When he showed no signs of dismissal, she nodded, adding, "The reason I've been dodgy is because a man—possibly two—has shown a disturbing interest in Nia."

"A stalker?" Hugh asked, his tone grave.

"He claimed he was a scientist who could help Nia, yet never gave a name or reason to trust him. That said, he sounded genuinely sincere."

"So do Sociopathic sex offenders. It's their skill."

"Call it a hunch, but I believe he isn't the only…threat against Nia. I just wish I had his identity, so I can make further judgments."

"As do I," grumbled Hugh.

"Does this mean you'll help?"

"Of course. Can you remember the scientist's face?"

"I got a good look when he grabbed my arm."

"Then if you come to the station, a sketch artist can—"

"Actually, is it possible to keep this low-key? Between us? I have a feeling the police are being tracked and recorded."

"You think that guy can bypass our firewalls?"

April grimaced under the obvious laughter the detective withheld. 'He says that like it's never been done. If only he knew Donny.'

"The scientist has already proven his capabilities," April added. "And it's likely the second man possess stronger recourses than him."

"What kind of scientist is this?" Hugh asked, amusement dying.

"A tall one, almost seven foot, with a pale complexion that would shame snow. He looked disheveled, but wore pricey clothes. Eye bags, scraggly hair, and crazy talk aside, he seemed like someone who ought to be accepting a Nobel Prize. What?"

Hugh's dark face hardened, to the point where it seemed like he was glaring at his own thoughts. "Was he around his late forties? Narrow faced and possibly a scar on his neck?"

"I can't confirm the scar, but…Do you know him? Is he a criminal?"

"Not to me knowledge. I only recognized the description because I remember sitting at the table for breakfast and thinking he looked like a horse."

"You had breakfast with him?"

"No. He was featured in a paper my wife's subscribed to. Her sister is a doctor and Rina finds the field interesting. Only Lord knows why."

"Well," said April, "do you know his name?"

"Kingston," Hugh answered. "Doctor Charles Kingston. But…what would a successful surgeon want with Nia?"

Another groan escaped Charles Kingston as he wrapped gauze around his torso. With a sharp hiss, he ended the roll and considered applying a third. Anything to relieve the burn inside his rib cage and collar bone. He was a doctor, so he knew why the pain persisted. The injuries should've bed-ridden him, but he couldn't afford the luxury. Not when he had so many obstacles to push through.

First, shadow figures had kept Nia Anders from his possession. At one point, Charles had been certain of their identities. He was proven wrong, though, and now feared they—these Phantoms—would intervene again.

Then, not a week later, Agent Bishop tracked him to the subway station. Charles had barely escaped the agent's wrath, thanks in part to his mandatory EPF training. But despite the reprieve, he knew he'd been placed on a grim wanted list.

Circumstances had kicked the man so low that he'd resorted to hiring thugs. They, too, had failed. And while Hun's phone calls reassured that Nia Anders would be found, Charles' faith in the crime boss dwindled with each day.

'Damn it all!'

"Charles?"

Charles faced a curvy woman in his bed, that beautiful being known as his wife. She lay under the sheets, an angelic site of olive skin and waving locks beginning to gray. Her unseeing eyes stared off into the distance, but he could feel her spirit peering into his own. When fingertips brushed his lower back, he knew she was confirming his position.

Charles smiled—knowing she could sense him doing so—and placed a hand against her sunken cheeks. "Sorry to wake you, Madeleine," he said in a German whisper. "The injuries from my last job were giving me some difficulties."

Madeleine sighed, annoyance animating the wrinkles along her face. "You should just call off. I can't believe the construction company says you need to come in when you should be resting."

"We need the money, Maddie."

Maddie frowned then lifted a hand to cover that of her husband's. "I know," she whispered. "I just wish you were still in the medical field. Those charges against you were bogus."

Charles released a breathy chuckle that pained him. "Always the fighter. No wonder Olivia takes after you, even if you share no blood." The man's hand migrated from his wife's cheek to her hair, admiring its coarse texture. "I'll fix this, Madeleine. Her. Promise."

Maddie smiled, leaning into her husband's touch. "I know you will, Charles. I know you will."

A/N: And his identity is finally revealed! I know there weren't any ninjas in this chapter, but hope you enjoyed it all the same. :P