Hectic, hectic, hectic.

Looks like I'm heading away from home for a bit, so the next update might not be showing up until next month. As if a month's wait is anything different. :sheepish grin: I really need to keep up my resolution to update more often.

Kudos goes to my editors and my readers. Thank you for encouraging me to continue.


There'll be times
When my crimes
Will seem almost unforgivable
I give in to sin
Because you have to make this life liveable
Depeche Mode, "Strangelove"

The soft strains of Je Voudrais was gently accompanied by the scratching of a pencil upon the once clean sheet of notebook paper as notations were taken down, observations made. Pausing only long enough for a strong-fingered hand to gather the nearby cup of coffee and a sip to be taken, the pencil was returned to the paper, adding a final notation before he leaned back, tucking his fingers beneath his glasses, and rubbed his eyes with the pads of middle finger and thumb.

The Crypt was quiet at this time of night. With Melissa out having 'lunch' with Christina, and Glover processing a set of partial prints that had been found upon their last cadaver, Raoul was basically alone. Resting back in the arched spine of the chair, he laced his fingers and placed them against his stomach, tilted back his head and looked up at the ceiling, slowly turning the rolling chair from side to side.

Soft humming accompanied the music as he fell into his thoughts; not about work, or about the bills he was to pay come tomorrow morning, but what he truly shouldn't be thinking of. Christina. He knew well that trying to pursue anything with her would only lead to disappointment, but that did not stop him from wanting to. The woman was far too involved with her work to notice him any longer.

They had been a couple once, before each of them went their own ways with college, which drove them to opposite sides of the continent. Phone calls turned into letters, and letters into silence as they moved on to get their degrees. There was no formal parting, though when he had managed to get himself hired at the same station, he could tell that everything had changed. Christina was no longer the woman he had known.

Just as she had told him he was no longer the man she had known.

Time and distance changes people, it was inevitable, though he often wished that weren't so.

Sighing faintly, he closed his eyes, subjecting himself to memories that were better left forgotten. His path of masochism didn't last very long, for he was soon distracted from his thoughts by the placement of a hand upon his shoulder. He jolted with a start, and blinked at the one behind him before frowning. He sat up, pushing his fingers through his hair and adjusted his glasses.

"That wasn't exactly the welcome I was expecting..."

"Evening, Charlotte."

She stepped around his side and slid to a sit upon the table, tilting her head softly while crossing her arms beneath her breasts. Another flicker of a frown passed and he reached over, taking a hold of the folder she was sitting upon to weasel it from beneath her. She had the good grace to lift slightly, only to sit down again. "How've you been?"

"I doubt you came by for small talk," he commented matter-of-factly as he collected himself from the chair. Tossing the folder to lay upon his notebook, he slid his hands into his pockets, looking over to her and finally answered her question with a noncommital shrug. Undaunted by his comment, she continued on as if he hadn't said anything to begin with.

"That's good. Look, I'll need the files processed for the Jane Doe sometime soon, think you can do that?" Crossing her legs, she cupped her fingers against her knee, tapping her tented fingers together and issuing a sweet smile. "It would be a big favor to me."

"Yeah...I'll, uh, see about that. I still have to finish up the prints for Roberts; Glover's working on the computer now." He shrugged, lifting a hand to press his glasses up with a fingertip. "I'll get a hold of you when I'm done, all right?"

She nodded and slipped from the table, brushing out a nonexistent wrinkle from her clothing. Just when he thought that she was going to make her way out of his office, she stepped closer to him and brushed her fingers over his lab jacket. Ignoring the stiffening of his spine, she fingered his tie and straightened it. "We should have lunch sometime. You're always stuck down here; it's no wonder why your humor is so dry. Surrounded by dead bodies."

Corpses make for good company more than some people. He gently took her hand and removed it from his tie. Subtle much? "Maybe. I have a lot of work to do, though. The death rate always seems to elevate this time of year." Shrugging, he glanced over at the soft clearing of a throat and released Charlotte's hand as if it had burned him.

"Done with the computer," Glover murmured, his ink-colored eyes glancing from Raoul to the woman standing decidedly close to him, then back. "It's all set for you to use. I'm going to run these up to Roberts then head out to get something to eat. Want something?"

Raoul shook his head softly, stepping away from Charlotte to collect the already open file from his desk. "No, I'm fine. Thanks anyway, Will." Nodding, and giving a last curious glance between the two, Glover wandered away from the alcove and through the lab.

"I think he's suspecting something," Charlotte teased gently, turning back to Raoul as he picked up another folder, then his notebook. He paused and looked over her while doubling the already creased notebook and sliding it into the pocket of his lab coat. After picking up his pencil and tucking it behind an ear, he made his way to the next alcove.

"There's nothing to suspect."

"Jesus, Raoul," she scowled, following behind him, "lighten up. It's called a joke. You know? 'Ha ha'? I swear, you're just as dead as they are." She motioned in a frustrated gesture toward the row of cadaver refrigerators. "Besides, it wouldn't be too far off if something was su–"

He turned to her swiftly, lowering his voice in a harsh whisper while holding up a single finger. "It was one time, Charlotte. One! That's it. No more; none, nada, dore mo, aucun, keine, nessun. Is that enough, or do you need more languages to get it through your head that I regret what I did!"

Even as he turned back around to go into the room, she remained standing there, giving him a most quizzical look. "When did you learn Japanese?"

Instead of following him completely inside, she lingered at the threshold, leaning her shoulder on the frame of the door. "Look, I'm not as dense as you think I am. You used me. I understood this a long time ago." Pushing away, she turned around with a glance over her shoulder. "I should've known then. Good night, Raoul."

Ladies and gentlemen, pack your bags. We're going on a guilt trip! Frowning softly at her back, he watched her walk off, then turned to the computer to sit down. He tried to focus upon his work, but found it hard to do so. At least, he mused inwardly, it'll stall the time until I'll have to talk to her again.

Charlotte had few qualms about hanging that time over his head. In her own little way it was to teach him a lesson. She passed through the Crypt's doors and glanced behind her before continuing on. Passing by the security guard with a smile and a wave, she continued on until she entered the lax bustle of her work place.

"Looks like there's been a recent homicide." Chang glanced up from his desk when she went to her own, then tapped a notepad where the information was written down. Curiously, Charlotte went over to pick it up.

"4020 City Ave. In a Denny's?"

He nodded. "Yup. Not too far from here." Tucking a loose bit of stygian black behind an ear, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Well, why aren't we going?"

"Everyone else had a case, and some people were missing." He gave her a pointed glance, to which she narrowed her eyes, but didn't say anything. "So he gave it to Daniels."

"I thought she was out at lunch."

"Just got back. Her and someone from Forensics are on the way there now."

"Son of a...mmf!" Tossing the notebook upon the desk, she stalked to her own and settled in a heavy sit, cursing inwardly. He lifted a brow slowly, watching the storm as it raged. "Uh, problem?"

"That's going to be her hundredth case. Yes, problem. She gets a promotion if she solves it."

He didn't know if he should be amused or disappointed that she saw her job that way; as a race or a contest. "It isn't exactly a competition you know..." Her look was enough to stop his words in their tracks.

"What would you know, rookie?"


"All right. I called the field team." Melissa snapped her phone closed and tucked it away into her jacket. Pulling her plaits back away from her face, she bound them at the nape of her neck with a hairband and glanced over. "They're on their way." Nodding, Christina waited impatiently at the light, tapping her fingers against the wheel, and her friend couldn't help but smile with amusement.

"Easy, Tiger. The body isn't going anywhere."

Realizing what she was doing, Christina gave her a sheepish grin and smoothed her hands against the leather of the wheel, shrugging. "You know how I get before a new case; hyped up and all. These things make me feel like a big kid, y'know? It's like putting a puzzle together; sometimes you figure them out easily, other times you're missing a piece or two."

"Or someone is keeping it from you," Melissa added, bringing a scowl to the other woman's lips.

"Don't remind me."

"You should've gotten her fired. I would've." Shrugging, Melissa turned her eyes to the window, watching the scenery pass once the car started driving again.

"Yeah, well..." Trailing off as they reached the restaurant, she pulled into the parking lot and meandered her way between police and civilian cars. Odd, must have been some bigwig for there to be more than one cop car. Taking up one of many empty spots, she shut off the car and reached back to grab her jacket as well as the holster within it, while Melissa climbed from the car, case in hand.

"I'll meet you inside," she stated before shutting the door behind her and trotting off to the building. A flash of her marked jacket and badge, and she was heading inside. After fastening the holster and climbing out of the car, Christina was soon following the same path, one dirty-blonde brow lifting curiously at the press van not too far from the entrance. "Huh..."

Gathering her hair back into a messy bun and tossing a smile to the guarding officers, she showed them her badge as well and stepped inside the usually pleasant environment. Greeted by the subtle scent of pancakes and coffee, she headed off to the bathroom and paused just outside of its entrance.

"Are you the first on the scene?" she questioned the man standing there, and looked from the bathroom to him. He shook his head, motioning over to the two but a few yards away. "Montgomery and Richards got the call first. They have the waitress that found him in custody for questioning."

Her lips twitched in a smile. Frederick and Andrew were usually the first ones to take a call. They enjoyed their work as much as she enjoyed her own, regardless of them being – as they would call themselves – 'simple two-bit street cops'. They were one of the best teams in the office, both of which were working their way into the Strike Team. The Strike Team were the ones that personally went out to make the arrests on big-time drug dealers and those with darker connections. A dangerous change of occupation, to be sure; more than one cop who knew what they were getting into had lost his life on that team.

"All right, thanks." After giving him a nod, she turned to make her way over to the two officers and a pretty shaken young woman. By the sight of the nearby ashtray, she was on her sixth cigarette; the fifth snuffed, but still smoking. "Evening fellas. Mind if I talk to her for a bit?" She glanced to the duo who were often attached by the hip. By their closeness one would almost think them brothers...or lovers, but no one bothered to ask about the latter. Andrew Montgomery wasn't exactly a small guy, or one to be trifled with.

But he was a big, green-eyed puppy dog until someone pissed him off. "Hey, Daniels," Andrew greeted with a warm smile, "no, sure, go ahead. Don't mind in the least." As he moved off, his partner followed, giving the two women room for a bit of 'privacy.'

She regarded the two a moment, amused at their tandem movements. They'd been partners for many, many years now; and to think…They didn't like each other at first. Like Raoul, Frederick Richards came from a rich family and chose an occupation that wasn't suited to his father's expectations. It took a while for him to show his partner that he wasn't some spoiled brat that was just doing this job as a 'side thing' and since then they had been inseparable.

"Evening, Ma'am. Christina Daniels," she offered, lowering to a sit nearby. "I need to ask you a few questions as to what you might recall of the night; who might have left before you found the victim, what time you found him, things of that nature."

The woman nodded, her fingers nervously fiddling with one of many piercings in her earlobe, and with a trembling hand, she brought the Marlboro to her lips for a long drag. After exhaling the smoke, she sighed. "I already told the others, but okay."

Catching movement from the corner of her eyes, Christina glanced over, lifting a brow at Melissa's expression as she approached. Giving an apologetic smile to the waitress, the dark-skinned woman turned her attention to the detective. "Chris, got a minute?"

"...Yeah, I do." It wasn't normal for her to be interrupted, and so she took the hint that this was something she had to see. Moving away from the waitress, she prepared herself for the worst and followed Melissa into the bathroom. Almost immediately the detective gave a sigh of relief; the body was whole and there was no blood, save for a bit at the corner of the urinal's bowl.

"What's the problem?"

Melissa answered with a jerk of her chin, directing her over to the deceased, and Christina shrugged before heading over to see what all the fuss was about. Crouching down next to the body, she dipped her head, tilting it to the side to get a look at his face. Even with the stain of blood along his brow and against his features, she recognized him immediately.

"Is it…?" Melissa questioned quietly.

Christina exhaled slowly.

"Yeah…"

It was Joseph Burke; the lawyer who had taken the defense of the accused in the James case.

"Looks like someone didn't like the verdict."