Drake flipped through the file for what seemed the hundredth time that day and sighed. He and J.J. had been working on the Millet case for the past few weeks and had had no luck in a break. The man was what they had deemed a 'random rapist'. None of his victims had a common denominator and all his crime scenes were in different neighborhoods. There were long lapses in time between his rapes.

His stomach rumbled reminding him that he hadn't eaten that day. A glance at the clock on the wall told him lunch hour had come and gone. Heaving a loud sigh Drake put his head down and muttered every swear word he knew in every language he knew.

"I didn't know you knew Japanese."

Drake lifted his head to see Ryo standing in front of him holding three little white boxes. Judging from the smell they were filled with Chinese food. Looking at his fellow detective quizzically, the blond sat up and blinked.

"I don't."

Ryo set the food down and pulled some chopsticks out of his coat pocket. "But you know Japanese cuss words."

"One of my ex-girlfriends was an anime fan." Drake said flatly. "Is there something you want?"

Ryo shrugged. "I just stopped by to drop off lunch. Remember, I told you we were getting Chinese and did you want any?" He pointed to the boxes. "White rice, chicken teriyaki, and mixed vegetables."

"No…I don't remember that." Drake said quietly. "Anyways, isn't lunch break over?" He jabbed a finger at the clock

"Yeah well, what's the Chief gonna do? Fire us?" Ryo gave a short little laugh, grabbing a nearby chair and sitting across Drake's desk.

"Uh, yeah. You know you've started talking like Dee, right?"

"You know you've started sounding like Commissioner Rose, right?" Ryo gave a small smile.

Twitch twitch. "H-have I?"

"Uh-huh." Ryo nodded vigorously. "You're always serious now and you don't even joke around with J.J."

A little light bulb turned on. "You've been talking to J.J." It was a blunt statement.

Ryo knew he was busted. "Yeah…"

"I didn't ask you to pick me up any Chinese food, did I?"

"No…listen, Drake."

Drake stood up. "Later." He headed for the door. Ryo blocked him. "Ryo…"

"You have a hangover again, don't you?" Ryo bluntly stated. "That's why it's taking you forever to do your work and you're snarling at everyone! Damn it, Drake, you're turning into an alcoholic!"

"Get out of my way."

"Tell me what's wrong! Tell SOMEBODY what's wrong for the love of God." He grabbed Drake by the shoulders when the other man tried to maneuver away from him. "People don't just start drinking for no reason."

It was the grace of God that Marty chose that particular moment to burst into the room. "J.J! Drake, dudes, we got a call on the Millet case!" He paused and looked around the office. "Where's J.J.?"

Drake was already reaching for his coat. "He went out for coffee. What's going on with Millet?"

"He tried the wrong woman. She says she stabbed him in the shoulder with her pen and called us from her apartment. We just got the call and we're all heading out. If he's injured we might have a chance at catching the muthafucker." Marty jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "We gotta move fast though."

Ryo whipped out his cell phone. "I'll call J.J. and tell him to meet us there."

"You're coming?" Drake asked dryly.

"Yes." Was the simple reply.

Drake noticed he was getting used to long, silent car rides.

The crime scene was filled with people, very few of them law enforcement. The neighborhood had responded to the attack rather quickly; scuttling around the apartment and generally doing everything except being useful. It was a decent sized apartment and the police were having a hard time getting everybody out. The victim was sitting on her ratty couch talking quietly to Dee and the Chief.

"I'd read the article in the paper about him." She half-whispered. "It had his picture. He has a black tooth, right?"

Drake hurried over to them. "Chief, we're here." He glanced at the victim. She was a frail, weak looking woman with thin, honey-blond hair and he found it hard to believe she had driven a pen into another human being. Behind the couch, a hand on the young woman's shoulder, stood an elderly lady. Clearly a matron of the neighborhood, she glared daggers at the cops present.

"'Bout frickin' time." Chief grumbled. He pushed himself to his feet and turned to the three newcomers. "Marty, go supervise forensics. They're extracting the blood off her carpet and I'm sure they'll mess up somehow. Ryo, go help them clear out the neighbors. Drake, Dee's already started questioning her so you just hang around and listen." They all nodded and went about their assignments.

Drake crouched by Dee and began taking duplicate notes. He listened with half an ear and the only detail he managed to lodge in his mind was that the woman had just recently gone through a divorce.

The interview was long and drawn out and at the matron's insistence the police agreed to have a guard placed on the victim. It wasn't necessary as Millet never struck twice in the same place, but the old lady had insisted and the victim, Marie Finer was her name, offered no resistance to the idea.

Drake shuffled over to the corner to use his cell on the pretence of calling his neighbors to ask them to watch his apartment. It being their case, he and J.J. (who had finally shown up) had been assigned guard duty.

"Hello?" Berkeley barked in the phone.

"Yeah, hi. I'm not gonna make it home tonight." Keep the tone neutral, don't let anyone else know you're not talking to the neighbors.

"Fine." Berkeley said shortly. "Another night then."

"So, you're okay with that?"

Long pause. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Ouch. After forcing out an "Okay, thanks!" Drake terminated the call and turned back to the crime scene. J.J. had wasted no time in 'thanking' (glomping) Dee for questioning Ms. Finer. Ms Finer was watching the scene with morbid fascination while the elderly matron looked shocked and scandalized. It looked to be a long night.

Author's note- I'm not even gonna try and explain why this took so long. Just remember that 'Fake' does not belong to me.