Chapter 2 - 8:45 A.M.

Tears were streaming down Chris's face when she stepped outside in the bright sun. It felt it should have been raining, but the sun was shinning just as brightly as ever.

As she walked down the street Chris realized that she hadn't eaten for a few days. Her stomach was a hollow pit at the center of her body.

Pulling her purse over her shoulder, Chris touched her stomach, feeling that it was sucking in as though she hadn't eaten for weeks rather than just a few days. But there was nothing that she wanted to eat. She did feel partial to a cup of tea, however.

After a few blocks Chris saw a coffee place and walked through it's doors. The air seemed chilled inside, and there were several people drinking coffee and tea and eating donuts and muffins. Maybe she would get a muffin, too.

She approached the woman behind the counter and ordered some green tea and a poppy seed muffin. Yeah, that should make her feel better.

"Five dollars," the woman said as she rang up the price.

Chris reached into her purse, searching for the five dollar bill she new was in there, somewhere. Where was it? "Just a second," she murmured, sifting carefully through all the clutter in her purse. "I'm sorry..."

The bill was gone.

Without another word, Chris just turned her back to the woman and stormed out of the coffee shop. "Shit," she snarled, pressing a hand to her throbbing temple. "Shit, shit, shit!"

It was going to be another one of those days.

As soon as Dutch was in the holding cell he got word that the district attorney wanted to see him. How many times was he going to have to see this woman before she just left him alone?

So once more he was escorted down the hall to the room where he and Chris had just had their exchange. His headache had only intensified in the past few minutes and...There seemed to be music playing somewhere.

"Hello, Mr. Wagenbach," the tall, thin attorney said, holding her hand out to shake his.

He shook his head and sat down. He had shaken her hand before, and he really didn't feel like shaking it again.

"All right, then," she said, pulling her hand back and looking down at him with a strained grin that wanted to be a snarl. She sat down and pulled a manila folder from her briefcase. "I think we should discuss your decision to plead-"

"Have you heard Within You Without You?"

"Holland-"

"No, really. It's a fantastic song. The Beatles. Written by George Harrison-"

"Mr. Wagenbach!" The DA had finally had enough with him. "We have got to get down to business."

"Why?" Dutch asked, leaning back into his chair and shrugging. "I should be here. I should be in prison. I'm dangerous."

"But you can get off easily," the DA said, her voice irritable. "You are a respected detective, you have no priors. These men attacked you, and since the incident with your girlfriend has been dropped..." her voice trailed off, and her eyes narrowed on Dutch's face. "Are you listening to me?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Dutch said, waving a hand carelessly. "The abuse charges are gone; I'm a respective detective, blah blah blah..."

"This is very important," the DA said. "Those men instigated the violence that took place that day. They left evidence all over your body. It's an in and out case. If you change your plea, that is."

Dutch sighed, stroking his chin for a moment, thinking of Chris. She just wanted him to come home, and he did badly want to go home, himself. He missed her, and he wanted her.

"All right," he murmured.

"What?" The DA had heard him, she was just shocked. They had been over this five times before. She couldn't believe that he had just decided to change his plea!

"I'll change my plea," he said, feeling his heart hardening in his chest. "They brought it upon themselves...and I want to get out of here." He looked up at her and laughed. "I thought you had given up on me."

"I had," the DA said, looking down at the folder. She had not even needed to use its contents. "Well, that's just...I'll see you in court."

"Five, right?" Dutch checked.

"Yeah," the DA said, getting to her feet and shoving the folder back into her briefcase. "See yuh then."

"See yuh."

Chris waved her hand as a taxi drove by. "Hey!" She yelled as it sped up and went right on past her. She watched it go, frustration boiling up in her chest. "Fuck you!" She screamed, hurling her worthless purse at it as it vanished around the corner. "God, is it so fucking hard to give a ride like your supposed to, jack ass?"

"Excuse me, ma'am."

She spun around and found herself face-to-face with a cop. She rolled her eyes as her shoulders sagged. "Oh my God," she snarled, lowering her eyes and running a hand over her eyes. "I'm sorry, officer, it's just-"

"Go get your purse, Ma'am," the officer said. "And try not to cause any more disturbances."

Looking around herm, Chris saw that there were many eyes fixed on her. She looked back at the officer, feeling her cheeks burning. "I'm sorry."

"It's no problem," the officer said, pointing to her purse. "Just go get your purse, please."

She nodded and turned shyly away, walking swiftly down the street to gather her purse. She picked it up and brushed off all the dirt and dust, glancing once over her shoulder at the officer, still watching her, before she darted across the street and continued on her way.

But just around the corner, she was almost taken down by a boy on a bike. He grazed her arm and she fell against the wall when his bike skidded and toppled over in the road. A car just barely missed the boy as he pulled himself back onto the sidewalk.

"Fuck!" Chris shouted, looking at the bruise already forming on her arm.

The boy pulled the bike onto its wheels and looked over at her. "Are you OK, Miss?"

"Yeah, I'm fucking brilliant," Chris snarled, looking at the boy, who looked scared out of his wits. "I'm sorry."

The boy nodded and jumped on his bike, continuing around the corner.

Looking back down at her arm, Chris saw a stream of blood running down her arm. She hadn't notice the neat cut that ran along the edge of the bruise, the one that was no bleeding profusely.