DDD

A Knock at the Door

There was someone knocking on the door. Sara opened her eyes and glanced over at the alarm clock and yelled, "Fuck off! It's not even six in the fucking morning!"

The knocking continued, uncaring of her objection. It was the hard insistent boom of a law enforcement officer, the kind that said if you didn't open the damn door, they were going to break it down. Had the White Bulls decided they had nothing to lose, now that Dante and Siri had been picked up? Losing their leader might make them that desperate.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm coming! Keep your shirt on!" Sara yelled at the door as she pulled on a pair of sweat pants, not bothering to tuck in the grey NYPD tee shirt she had been sleeping in, and shoved her feet into sneakers. Gun naked in her hand, Sara walked to the door, careful to keep close to the wall in case they decided to start shooting through the wood.

"Not a morning person, detective?" The man on the other side of the door called back. His voice was vaguely familiar.

Sara stopped with her pistol raised up to line the sites on the door, brain trying to come up with a name or a face to go with the voice. After a long silence, she remembered. He was the Feebie from the hospital. Feeling a little sheepish, Pez clicked the safety back on her .9mm and opened the door.

"Good morning, Agent Myers." Sara tried to smile, but it felt stiff and fake. She wanted to slam the door in his face and go back to bed. She just wasn't up to nice yet. Maybe after a pot or two of coffee, she'd be more social. Yeah right.

"Good morning to you as well, Detective Pezzini."

"So what brings you here?" Sara paused as a horrible idea came to her. "Is Jake ok?"

"McCarty is doing well enough, all things considered." Myers shrugged and walked into the apartment, his eyes moving over everything.

"That's good," Sara let out a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding.

"Now that we've got the pleasantries out of the way, start packing. We are relocating you to a safe house." Myers turned his brown eyes back to her face just in time to watch the detective's chin lift in defiance of the idea.

"We just had this conversation last night, didn't we? I'm not that big of a fish, and I'm on medical leave for the next two weeks." Pezzini turned her back on the agent and headed into the kitchen. Clearly, she needed coffee.

"That was last night. The situation has escalated since then." Myers had followed the detective, but wasn't looking at her. His focus was the windows that ran the length of her studio apartment.

"What the Hell are you talking about?" Sara snapped off the question as she jerked the red metal container out of the cabinet, slamming the cupboard for emphasis.

"Due to a series of unfortunate events, you are now our star witness."

"Oh great. How did that happen? Oh wait, let me guess, Joe decided to chicken out again?" The question was bitter, but not any more so than the agent's reply.

"No, and you shouldn't speak ill of the dead, detective." Myers looked down at her, disapproval of her insensitivity clear in his tone.

"Speak ill of the dead? You're talking metaphorically right? I mean, you guys put Joe in a safe house and just told everyone he's dead for his protection, didn't you?" Pezzini stared at Myers, her tone begging him to tell her that was what he meant, but her eyes were already darkening with grief.

"I'm afraid not." Myers paused, his shoulders tightening like he was bracing himself, "Around four fifteen this morning, Joe and Marie Siri were assassinated."

"No," Sara whispered. The coffee can fell from her nerveless fingers and bounced, the dark brown powder spraying the area liberally. Pez ignored the gritty mess, too intent on fighting back the tears to care about the state of her kitchen.

"The hit was very professional, one shot to the center of the forehead. They didn't suffer." Myers offered what consolation he could.

Sara didn't reply. She couldn't. The words 'professional' and 'assassinated' echoed in her mind. Who did she know who was a professional assassin with an employer who might find himself exposed by Joe's testimony? Kenneth Irons, that's who. Well, ok, and the White Bulls. If he didn't testify against Dante, his case wasn't so airtight. Pez licked her lips and rasped out, "What about Dante?"

"Dante was taken down first, we know that much. They're still working out the firing angle. The preliminary findings seem almost impossible, so they're checking them again. He was shot through the wall, from what Ballistics is saying, and they think the shooter was on the roof of an apartment complex a quarter mile away."

"Please God, no. Don't let it be," Even as she whispered it, Sara knew who made that shot. A spike of heat on her wrist, and she was on a windy rooftop, watching Ian pull the trigger. It felt like she was choking on the pain of Nottingham's betrayal. How could he? Sara grabbed for the metal of the bracelet, wanting to pull the Witchblade from her wrist and throw it across the room. It wouldn't budge, but the vision faded, dumping her back in her apartment with a suspicious Feebie.

"Don't let it be what?" Myers had stopped watching the windows to stare at her. From his tone, Sara thought it might not be the first time he'd asked her.

"I…" Sara paused, not quite willing to voice her suspicions. "It's just, listening to you talk about Dante, it made it all start to sink in. I don't want to believe it, but I have to."

"I hate to sound insensitive but, bullshit." Myers crossed his arms.

"Excuse me?" Sara growled, all to ready to transfer her pain and sorrow to anger. Anger was much more comfortable; it warmed and insulated her from the grief trying to pull her down.

"You hated Dante's guts. I doubt you're getting all depressed over him biting it."

"Not him, Joe and Marie." Pez snapped, going on the offensive. "Weren't they all supposed to be in protective custody?"

"Yes," Myers shot back, voice hot with frustration.

"Not to be too critical here or anything, but what the Hell kind of security do you idiots have?"

"There were two agents in each house, four roving teams, and perimeter watch points." Myers was clearly baffled and upset at the failure of the safety measures.

"Yeah, what were they doing while the shooting was going on, sitting on their thumbs?" Pezzini stepped into his personal space, all the anger and betrayal seething inside her pushing for a physical outlet.

"We lost one of our agents in the Siri hit, and another one was wounded." His face became stiff, eyes blank. The Feebie was reacting like a cop to a nosy outsider at a funeral.

Sara closed her eyes. She regretted speaking so harshly. Pez knew all too well how Myers must be feeling right now. "I'm sorry to hear that."

For long minutes neither spoke. The uncomfortable silence was finally broken by Myers clearing his throat. "Yes, well, start packing Pezzini."

"Thanks for your offer of protection, but no thanks." Sara tried to be diplomatic about her refusal. "I don't think I'm important enough to rate the round the clock babysitting."

"We picked Siri and Dante up after Siri's little chat with you. Since whoever took them out clearly has inside information, it naturally follows that you have to be a target as well." The agent seemed very certain that she was in danger.

"How am I dangerous to the Bulls? I've been catching heat from Dante because he hates my guts, but he's been shooting for my being booted, not boxed." Sara pantomimed being in a coffin, just in case Myers didn't get the reference. "Now that he's dead, there's no reason to continue the vendetta. It's not like I know anything."

"You've been assigned to the eleventh precinct for your entire career. You've worked side by side with these scumbags. Hell, I think you're about the only one in your department who isn't on the take. There are things you don't realize you know that will help put them away." Myers wasn't buying her attempt to dodge.

She didn't know a damn thing. That much was clear. Until yesterday Sara had believed her father had been avenged by taking down Gallo, but he was just the triggerman. Until yesterday, she'd naively thought she and Nottingham had a future, but he had just killed four people and wounded another.

It was going to be damn hard to do anything about what she'd just learned with a bunch of Feebies breathing down her neck. Sara really didn't want anyone else around when she confronted Nottingham. "I can take care of myself just fine, thanks."

"I'm sure you can Pezzini, that's why you've spent the last two weeks in the hospital right?" Myers shook his head, clearly not impressed.

"That was different." Sara growled, seeing already where this was going.

"Sure it was. Carmelita Boucher wasn't a professional." The agent took a step forward, invading Sara's personal space to make his point.

"Just crazy," Pez rolled her eyes, not intimidated by his tactic.

"I read the report Pezzini. The only reason you're alive is because of an anonymous call made to the emergency dispatcher. Not only can you not count on a Good Samaritan twice, but a lot of your coworkers are White Bulls. Do you really think they'll have your back out there?" Brown eyes bored mercilessly into green, trying to make Pezzini understand just how much trouble she was in.

"Look, my partner is clean. That's all the backup I need." Sara gritted back, hands curling into fists at her sides.

"Your backup is lying in a hospital bed, his cover quite probably blown all to Hell. You don't have squat." Myers didn't back off an inch.

"I'm a big girl, Agent Myers. I don't have to have somebody holding my hand out there." Sara all but growled.

"Yes you do. Stop being an idiot. We both know how dangerous law enforcement is in a city like this. There will be a drive-by, a drug deal gone wrong, a crazy with a knife or a gun, some crackhead too hopped up to register that he's been shot four or five times, something. If your 'brother' officers decide to take the long way when responding to your call for backup, which they will, sooner or later you're dead." Myers pointed out grimly, something in his tone spoke of personal experience.

"So, who hung you out to dry?" Sara asked, hoping to redirect the focus of the conversation. She didn't want to go into protective custody; she wanted to be out there busting the people responsible for her father's death.

"That doesn't matter. What matters is I survived," Myers said shortly. Either he didn't want to talk about it, or he knew what she was doing and wasn't falling for it.

"What makes you think I won't make it too?" Sara was insulted by his lack of faith. She hadn't gotten to detective without taking her lumps. She wasn't some weakling.

"I know what you're thinking. You've been working these streets for years and lived to tell the tale. Unfortunately, it isn't just the fucknuts and yahoos that you'll have to watch out for. The White Bulls are probably thinking the same thing you are, and they can't afford to let you live. If I were those bastards, I'd have you sniped from some rooftop or cap you in a raid. You'd never see it coming, but you'd go down, just like your dad." Myers said the last part with sympathy.

"That's the second time you've brought him up. What do you know about my father?" Sara fought back the lump in her throat that talking about her dad always seemed to bring.

"We saw that tape long before you did, Detective. It's pretty obvious James Pezzini was killed for getting to close to the truth. I'd hate to see you go the same way." The agent stepped back, giving her room to deal with her pain.

"You've made your point. Look, I need a shower, some caffeine, and to pack. Why don't you go down to the little bakery on the corner and get us some breakfast while I get started here." Sara slumped, her body language conveying defeat and acquiescence.

Myers eyed her drooping form and realized how many shocks she'd had, one after another, these past few days. Pezzini probably didn't want him to see her have the break down she was overdue for. Well, he could give her a little privacy. She wouldn't get much of that at the safe house. "Got any preferences on your coffee and Danish?"

"Black, three sugars, and a couple of the hazelnut praline rolls," Sara replied, shuffling toward the bathroom.

She ran the water, brushing her teeth and listening for the door to close. Once Myers left, Sara rinsed her mouth out and turned off the water. She rushed into the bedroom and changed into her black bike leathers. The jacket was bulky enough not to show the shoulder rig and the boots had a clip-in holster for her back-up weapon. Sara headed for the elevator, intending to ride it down to the second floor and take the back stairs from there. She should be able to bypass Myers and go straight for Irons and Nottingham. They both had to pay.

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A/N: To those who are still with me, thanks for the reviews. Love and chocolate to all.