A/N: The rest of the story will diverge from canon as we know it so far and will depend on the two following assumptions:
a) Miguel's hair is NOT in Woz's drain, b) Stahl's previous involvement with Cristina is minimal /not as creepy as in the show-it doesn't go beyond asking a few questions and later helping to save her.
And yes, I know it's a Stahlee fanfic and we are all interested in what happens to these two. I am with you on that! But I need a few other players to lead the plot where I would like it to go. Also, this is my first ever fanfic and I am not an action/crime writer so please forgive the plot holes and less than convincing evidence :) etc, etc. Allright, here we go...
The dirt road comes to an end so he has to run the rest of the way. The air is damp with moisture and he almost slips on the leaves but quickly recovers. "Slow the fuck down", he hisses, "won't be much use with a broken leg". Soon, the clearing comes into view. He skids to a halt and leans over to catch his breath then stretches up and looks around. The crows are menacing overhead. Stargazing, huh? The place is ashambles, wooden benches turned over, moss creeping up the wood. The entire tableu looks like no one has been here for 50 years.
Except for the flies. He hears them buzzing and turns his head. There! A rusted aluminum bin catches his eye. He walks up to it and the smell is horrific. He has hardly smelled worse. He takes out the gloves and the lid is lifted.
"Harlee, I have something for you".
"Another present? From you? No, thank you."
"Trust me, this one you want. Did you know Miguel broke his leg at Rikers?"
"So?"
"One word-ORIF."
Harlee sways and has to sit down. Her hand has trouble managing the phone.
"Come over", she whispers.
He showers and dresses into his usual, well, slightly more casual clothes. That's him as of late. Black pants, navy sweater, hair slightly out of place- and he is a poster boy for preppy and straightened out.
He rings Harlee's bell.
She opens the door and he knits his eyebrows. She is wearing black, tight and lacy. Today of all days. He has difficulty bringing his mind to the issue at hand.
"Come on in".
He follows her to the kitchen and sits down.
"Scotch, whiskey, what's your poison?"
"You should remember". She does. She takes the bottle and pulls the cork out.
"Went all out, Harlee? Just for me?" He gives her that snarky smile. Her palm itches to wipe it off his face but she cocks her head at him coyly and hands him the drink.
"So what have you got for me, darling? And what the hell happened to your hands?".
"Never mind that, Harlee. You have the box? Where is it?"
"Oh, come on, Stahl, you know how this works. You show me yours and I show you mine." A faint smile dances around her lips.
"You are insufferable, Harlee. Fine. Close your eyes. I won't bite, I promise. Well, not yet". And he watches her with those iridescent eyes of his.
She pretends to do what she's told but peers out from under her lashes. Two screws cool her hand. Holy shit. So much for taking the bastard's teeth out.
"Thank you", she sighs.
"Of course. Now I need what I need."
"Stahl, you want anything for the burns?" She changes the subject. " They must hurt".
"Yes...No...What?" he mumbles as his vision clouds. Heaviness creeps over his body and he slumps in the chair.
"Harlee, what the hell have you done?", he whispers, his face contorts and she has to lean close to hear the rest . She gasps and he passes out.
