A/N: This one will be long, so buckle up. My longest written fic to date. It might feel a bit different than usual but no worries, Blake and the rest will pop up soon. Fic is finished, updates will be daily. Not betaed so please excuse the mistakes. The town Leighton in this fic is purely fictional. I want to thank all the awesome people over on discord who helped with the brainstorming, ran sprints with me and answered all my insane questions about Australia. This wouldn't exist without you guys 3
I hope you will enjoy:)
It was all Blake's fault, Charlie thought.
How else to explain his current boredom in the middle of the course about forensics? The professor was talking about identifying dirt or soil found at the murder scene and all Charlie could think of was Blake walking up and down Ballarat, looking and sampling every bit of dirt and rocks he could find.
When the professor spoke about gloves and sealed plastic bags for evidence, Charlie bit down a snort. Blake put things into his pockets, into a handkerchief, a tobacco box. Whatever was at hand.
The man sitting next to him shot him a frown and Charlie cleared his throat and pretended to focus. This was what he wanted after all. To become a detective. Finally, he was able to take the detective training and hopefully learn things that would really help.
It wasn't anyone's fault that after three years of following Lucien Blake, all the methods mentioned in these courses seemed... boring. Some even inefficient.
Charlie went through the lesson, writing down small details he was sure would come up in a test, all the time wondering just when did he change so much. He used to be all by the book, ever since the academy. The methods Blake used worked, but... he realized that a better lawyer could dismiss some of them at court. So far they had been lucky.
Charlie didn't want to reach a moment when a procedural mistake or the simple fact Blake didn't put the evidence in the proper bag would allow the criminal to go. So even though he had already read up on the subject matter, he made himself focus.
The hour still seemed to drag on and Charlie was becoming restless. He didn't think the detective training would involve so much sitting in a class. The physical part of the training didn't seem to be pushed as much, most likely because detectives weren't expected to come into contact with dangerous situation as often as cops walking the beat. Charlie did enjoy the shooting range and the gym, but he was looking forward to the end of the lesson so he could head out for a proper run.
Finally it was over. Charlie gets off the chair, putting all the notes into his bag and headed out the door. Only to pause at the exit as a man stepped into his way.
"Excuse me," Charlie said and attempted to sidestep him, his mind already on the run and what track he should take. Maybe he could run around the bay? The summer had just ended and Charlie loved the autumn weather in Sydney.
The man didn't budge.
"Sergeant Davis?" he asked and Charlie stopped, his thoughts coming to a halt. There was a twitch of apprehension in his stomach, a feeling that his foreseeable plans might have to change.
"Yes, that's me," he said carefully. He looked around. The class was now mostly empty, a few other cops standing around, trying to leave the room as well. Charlie sidestepped and the man did the same, letting the others pass without a word.
"Can I have a word with you?" the man asked once the room cleared. Charlie looked him up and down, noting the suit and overall appearance. The man was maybe in his early forties. He had a straight posture, one that screamed 'army' at Charlie, although the haircut didn't fit with that. Though he was sure the man had served at some point of his life, now he looked more like someone sitting behind the desk and giving orders. The man's eyes were calculating and while he didn't appear outright threatening, Charlie got the vibe the man was trouble.
"I was headed out for a meeting," Charlie fibbed, hoping to get out of whatever this guy wanted from him.
The man gave a smile that reminded Charlie of Munro just a bit too much. It was the smile of a shark, ready to pounce.
"I am sure your running shoes can wait a few minutes, Sergeant Davis," he spoke and Charlie blinked. How the hell did he know about his plans?
"Now, it's hardly a secret. Taking a run is your routine ever since you arrived," the man explained and Charlie frowned, straightening his posture.
"Have you been following me? Who the hell are you?" He didn't like the thought of some stranger knowing his routine, especially not when he was away from familiar territory.
"Ah, pardon my impertinence. I'm detective Peter O'Leary, from the Commonwealth Investigation Services."
Charlie blinked again, thinking back if he had any cases involving the CIS but coming up empty.
"You mean Commonwealth Police?"
O'Leary grimaced but nodded.
"Yes. I still have to get used to us merging." The man shook his head, dismissing the topic. "Doesn't matter. Now that we have been introduced... there is something I need to ask. And perhaps I'll have an offer for you."
Charlie couldn't imagine what the detective could have wanted from him, but he had a feeling it wasn't something he would be able to decline so easily. Forcing back a sigh, Charlie simply nodded.
"Splendid. Why don't we take a walk then?"
Charlie managed to keep his mouth shut all the way out of the building. They were heading to the nearby park and despite his misgivings, Charlie relaxed a bit. He was out in the open, there were people walking around. The sun was shining and the fresh air was brushing away the fogginess of his mind caused by hours of lectures.
"What do you need from me, detective O'Leary?" Charlie asked and tried not to sound too apprehensive. He had a myriad of questions on his mind. First, how did the man know him? And what on earth could he want with him? Charlie really hoped this wasn't another attempt of someone from the headquarters to get Lucien Blake out of the way. Charlie was getting just a bit tired of that.
"Don't worry, Sergeant. It's nothing you won't be able to do. In fact, me and my supervisor think it should be right up your alley."
Charlie glanced at the man, trying to figure out if he was making fun of him. But the man looked serious enough.
"Can you be a little more clear?" Charlie was starting to lose patience. He had better things to do surely than chatting with this stranger... a man who seemed to know more about him than he was comfortable with. "And were you following me these last few days? How do you know I use to go for runs?"
Detective O'Leary raised a hand in a signal of peace.
"Relax, Sergeant. I didn't mean to worry you. I wasn't stalking you. It's a simple matter of asking around. There are plenty of cops around if you haven't noticed," he said in an amused tone.
Charlie felt a rush of embarrassment, but hoped it didn't show on his face.
"But perhaps we should indeed get to the point of my visit."
Charlie nodded.
"How do you feel about a little bit of undercover work, Sergeant Davis?"
Charlie paused, his ire rising almost on instinct. He was right after all.
"Listen, I know the higher-ups aren't a fan, but I really don't plan on spying on Blake. I think the last time showed that it's futile and stupid and-"
O'Leary chuckled and Charlie stopped mid-sentence.
"What the hell is so funny about that?"
"Ah, I'm sorry. I should have made myself clearer. This undercover work wouldn't involve anyone in Ballarat. We have absolutely no interest in Dr. Blake. Or rather... if there is any interest to be had, it's not from our agency."
Charlie was taken aback.
"What then do you mean by undercover?"
"There is an issue in a small town up north. I won't go into details unless I am sure you are taking the case."
Despite his misgivings, Charlie felt his interest peak.
"What kind of case it is?"
O'Leary seemed to note his interest if the twitch of his lips was anything to go by and Charlie reminded himself to be a bit more careful.
"Several corrupt cops running an illegal underground fighting ring."
Charlie's eyes widened.
"Fighting ring?"
"Yes. While having a bit of a side job is more or less accepted in such a town... the problem is some of the people fighting started going missing. We are suspecting that there could be more going on. Human trafficking, drug dealing. Extortion."
"That sounds like you have more than just a small problem. What could I possibly help you with?"
"Well for starters... you have some experience with boxing."
Charlie blinked, because that was the last thing he expected.
"I think you are mistaken. I don't box. If anything, I'm a runner."
O'Leary shrugged.
"Your father was a boxer. Your brother is heading for the championship as well. Don't tell me none of that rubbed off on you."
Charlie gritted his teeth. Being reminded of his father and brother's proves wasn't exactly making him feel warm and fuzzy towards O'Leary. Not to mention... he hasn't stepped inside a ring since he left Melbourne.
"I don't box, detective," he said simply.
O'Leary frowned.
"You may not be boxing now... but you do have experience with the sport. Your files from the academy show you were shortly in the boxing team and you aren't doing that shoddy at the physical fitness test here either."
Charlie didn't like that O'Leary seemed to know so much about him... that someone was keeping such a close eye.
"I still don't see how I can help you. There must be many more cops out there who are more suitable for the ring. Who are more experienced with undercover work than I."
"Au contraire, Sergeant Davis. You came highly recommended after the Munro case. Getting dirt on your own Chief Superintendent, one that was your father's partner at that... that takes some guts." O'Leary smirked, patting Charlie on the shoulder.
Charlie had to bite down a growl, both at the comment and the physical contact. He still felt bitter about Munro and he really didn't need to be reminded the man had some connection with his own father. Not to mention, if the circumstances were different and Munro didn't pick Blake as his target... Charlie might have even looked up to the man.
"That was... different. And it hardly makes me an expert on an undercover work."
O'Leary shrugged.
"We don't need an expert. We need someone who can handle themselves in a fight if needed and who is willing to rat on fellow cops."
Charlie felt his temper flare at the last comment and O'Leary knew that, because he smirked again.
"I didn't rat on anyone. If all you need is a rat, maybe you should go looking somewhere else. Now excuse me... I have places to be."
Charlie turned, ready to walk away. Screw this offer. He had enough doubts and suspicion in Ballarat while Munro was there. He really didn't need to hear some office jerk calling him a rat.
"Now now, Sergeant Davis. There's no need to take this so personally," O'Leary spoke, his voice dripping honey as he reached for Charlie's arm to stop his departure. Charlie's hand turned into a fist.
"Let go of me," he hissed and O'Leary let go.
"See? I'm pretty sure you can handle yourself, Sergeant. Or are you too scared of working without Blake by your side?"
Charlie turned on his heel to face the man.
"Do you really think this is the best way to persuade someone? Provoke them?"
O'Leary stood still, only raising an eyebrow.
"You are still talking to me, so I suppose so."
Charlie snorted and once again turned to leave. O'Leary fell in step with him though.
"Truth is, Sergeant Davis... we already had a person in mind. We created an identity for him and all... he was supposed to leave yesterday. Unfortunately he got into an accident and is no longer available."
"I'm sure you can find someone else," Charlie bit back, irritated by his shadow.
"Of course. But I doubt it will be in time for the next big fight. Not to mention... you look surprisingly similar to our original candidate, so there would be minimum change required in the documents."
Charlie let out a sigh and stopped, turning to face O'Leary.
"So what, now I am your last choice? There's a building full of cops."
O'Leary's face turned hard.
"Your name turned up on the list of recommended recruits. I would have thought you would grasp at a chance to promote your career, Sergeant Davis."
Charlie frowned. For some reason, what should have sounded as a carrot dangling in front of a horse felt more like a gun pushed against his skull.
"I came here to become a detective," Charlie said, trying to control his emotions. "Not an undercover spy."
O'Leary inclined his head, giving Charlie a studious look.
"One doesn't exclude the other, Sergeant."
Charlie gritted his teeth.
"However, my assumption was you would welcome a recommendation in your file and all the experience this case could offer you. If you are looking forward to a position outside of Ballarat in your future, of course."
Charlie's eyes narrowed.
"Is this a threat?"
O'Leary put on a surprised look, though it didn't reach his eyes. Those stayed cold and emotionless.
"I would never dare to threaten you, Sergeant. I would think of this as more of... an investment in your future."
Charlie didn't say anything, but his left hand twitched, fingers curling and uncurling.
O'Leary shrugged and pulled a small folder from his bag, handing it to Charlie.
"There are some more details of the case. So you know what is at stake... and how many people you could help. If you decide so, of course. My number is inside the folder. I will expect your call by tomorrow morning... or I will have to offer this chance to someone else."
Unwittingly, Charlie took the folder.
"Oh, and Sergeant Davis? This whole conversation is classified. Understood?"
Charlie gritted his teeth but gave a short nod.
"Good," O'Leary said with the smile back on his face. He gave Charlie's arm a 'friendly' pat and without any other prompting headed towards the parking lot. Charlie just stood there with the file in his hands, watching until the detective vanished from his sight.
What the hell was he supposed to do now?
The folder in his hands was light, only few papers at most, but to Charlie it felt heavier than a rock.
He didn't like O'Leary and he didn't have a good feeling about this. But... he couldn't outright refuse the job either. He didn't want to, and that was the worst. So many things had happened during the last few years yet right now Charlie felt stuck in Ballarat. And it wasn't like he didn't love the town and the people there. He just... imagined himself somewhere else when he hit thirty. Simple as that.
With a sigh, Charlie put the folder into his bag with the other files and notes he had. A gust of wind hit his face and Charlie took in a deep breath, enjoying the smell of the sea. He had until tomorrow to decide. There had to be better places to do that than standing in the middle of a path in a park.
Slowly, Charlie headed towards the building where he lived during the training. He was lucky at least that he didn't have any roommate to share the small space with. One room with a kitchenette and bathroom was more than enough for his needs. He grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge and a stale sandwich and settled down on the ratty couch. Pulling out the file, Charlie leaned forward and glared at the paper. All the names and places were crossed over so he wouldn't know where he was heading until he agreed to take the task. Not that Charlie could do much investigation about it.
His instinct was to pick up the phone and call Lawson. He wanted to know who was this O'Leary guy. He wanted to know that if he went there, someone would have his back.
But Lawson was out of the picture along with Blake and even though Charlie knew Rose would be able to dig up dirt on just about anyone, he also knew it would instantly get back to O'Leary and his career would be over before it even started.
Because the recommendation Charlie got for the Munro case could just as easily be turned against him. It all depended only on how the story was spun, and what opened his door to the detective training could just as easily become the end of his career.
Charlie took a bite of the sandwich then washed it down with a sip of beer. It had nothing on Jean's cooking that was for sure. Charlie sighed and tried to focus on whatever information was available in the paper.
The case didn't look good. If all he saw there was true, then the for now unknown town was in quite a pickle. The file listed at least three corrupt cops who were holding the reins and seemingly driving it all underground. So far three people went missing... three that O'Leary and his contacts knew of. If the cops indeed picked up travelers passing the town or homeless folks, there was no telling how many had vanished. Or what even happened to them.
Only one person was found dead and the body was in such a state of decay that making a positive identification seemed impossible. Charlie wasn't even sure if they could be linked to the case. That didn't matter though. Those cops needed to be stopped.
The problem was... none of the evidence was clear. Some went missing, witnesses retreating their statements. O'Leary's contact seemed to have better information, but still, nothing that would hold up in the eye of the court. They really did need help. Someone who had no connections to the town. Someone who would see things through.
Despite his misgivings about O'Leary, the case intrigued him. Charlie had a born dislike against corrupt cops and just reading about some of the things going on there gave him the creeps. He wanted to put a stop to it. He wanted to help... and he wanted to prove to himself he could. Because back in Ballarat... things were complicated. If there was a proper case, and Charlie didn't think a stolen bike was one, then in swooped Lucien Blake and solved it. Or got them all into more trouble, but that was besides the point. The point was... Charlie hasn't solved a single murder case without Blake's involvement. Not a single one.
And while back at home Charlie had gotten quite used to it, he realized how different the outside world was. He was only just figuring out what he was capable of. Was he even fit to become a detective? Or was it all just an illusion brought on by Blake's support?
He didn't mind in Ballarat. He got so used to it that when the Doc didn't appear at the scene right away Charlie started looking around and wondering if there was maybe something even worse hiding behind the corner that caught Blake's interest.
In Ballarat, there was always someone to give advice, to fall back on if things were going wrong. But what would happen once Charlie went out into the world? He knew he had become complacent. He knew ever since Ned was killed in the middle of the police station and Charlie's skull was bashed in at the morgue.
He felt safe in Ballarat and he stopped guarding his own back because there usually was someone else he could count on.
But what would happen when Blake and Lawson retires? Or when Charlie got offered a different posting. Would he be able to handle himself?
That was the question that plagued his mind for the last few months; that was what truly pushed him to come to Sydney and start his training. He had to know if this was the right path.
He wasn't totally truthful with O'Leary either, and Charlie felt a bit relieved that the man didn't call him out on it.
After the unfortunate events last Christmas, Charlie had approached Hobart with a request.
When Charlie told O'Leary he hasn't boxed for years, he was telling the truth. In a way. What he was doing the last few months with Bill twice a week was something else.
They had met up at the gym, the owner of which was good friends with Hobart. Charlie didn't really enquire about that friendship, because he didn't want to know about anything illegal at the moment. If Bill was happy spending his money betting on boxing matches, so be it.
What Charlie cared about was learning some dirty fighting that would surely make his father roll in his grave. Anything from dirty kicks to illegal chokeholds and biting. As long as it would help in a deadly situation, Charlie was ready to learn.
He was done being a victim and he didn't want to end up like Ned. Charlie knew that logically, none of the moves he learned would save him from being knocked on the back of his head, but they at least provided a feeling of security. And it was good exercise.
The only downfall was that they had to pull they punches more often than not, or risk being confronted by Blake. Charlie could hardly come home twice a week beaten and bruised or with broken knuckles without the man noticing after all.
But even that had become easier after time and Charlie was now quite confident he could handle himself in a fight. Was it enough to step into a fighting ring though?
Charlie finished off his beer and stared at the file with the crossed-out names. He thought about his dislike of O'Leary. About the man's silent threat to his career.
He also thought about finally having a chance to prove himself. To help people without Blake as a crutch.
"Damn this all," Charlie sighed and closed the folder. He needed a run to clear his head. Maybe then he would know how to tell his mother he won't be available on the phone for the foreseeable future.
Maybe some fresh air would help him figure out whether he was making a huge mistake or a step in the right direction.
Charlie hated the smug look on O'Leary's face when they met up the next morning but it wasn't enough for him to reject the case. On the contrary. Something about O'Leary made Charlie all the more eager to take the case and show the man he was capable.
After a long run, Charlie had spent most of the night deliberating, although he had already made up his mind when he first read the folder. What he spent the night contemplating on was the little details. For example, whether he should call Lawson and at least drop a hint or two about being unavailable in the close future. He was already thinking about where he would be sent, who he was going to be posing as. His stomach was twisting with the nerves but also anticipation of a case of his own.
When he picked up the phone that morning, his voice was understandably a bit rough from only a few hours of sleep. Now he was nursing a cup of hot coffee in a small restaurant not far from the academy. O'Leary was sitting opposite of him, giving him a regarding look.
"I see you already started on the look," he said with a smirk, pointing at Charlie's hair.
Charlie frowned, running a hand over it, only now realizing in all the excitement and anticipation he had foregone his usual hair routine and barely used the comb, not to mention any of the products keeping his curls down.
"That's good. May I advise also foregoing the shaving for a few days? A bit of stubble and ragged look might wash off the image of a clean-cut cop you have going."
Charlie felt his face turn hot at the comment.
"If you have a problem with my face, maybe you should try someone else? Would that bum over there be more to your liking perhaps?" he nodded towards the window and the homeless-looking guy walking down the street, trying not to be obvious about looking for cigarette butts.
O'Leary rolled his eyes.
"Not exactly that kind of ragged. But if you take this, you will have to get your hands dirty at some point, Davis. And the looks to sell the part."
Despite wanting to protest, Charlie nodded. He was quite aware of that and he was confident he could get himself looking haggard quite easily. Something told him getting back the image of a squeaky clean cop might be a bit more difficult afterwards, but he pushed that thought deep inside. There was no place for second-guessing his choice right now.
"I told you I would take the case. Now... I need to know all the things you've crossed out," he said, putting the heavily edited case file towards O'Leary.
The man gave him another look which Charlie held without blinking until O'Leary finally nodded.
"Alright then. Here are your papers and your new identity. I will ask you to leave any identification and such here in Sydney, for your own safety." O'Leary pushed a heavy envelope towards Charlie and he took it with a frown. The idea of leaving his papers behind didn't sit well with him, even though he understood the reasoning. If he was to be successful, there would more likely be a point when he or his accommodations would be searched. He peered into the envelope and saw another case file, a bit of cash and the false identification. He pulled it out just enough to see his own face glaring back at him. The photo was taken at the academy at the start of their training when they got a temporary entrance badge. At least he was in his civilian clothes and after several hours long travel, so he didn't look as fresh and cop like as usual. Though he did wonder just when did O'Leary manage to set this all up in such a short time.
"You were fast," he muttered and O'Leary shrugged.
"I knew you would see the wisdom of taking this opportunity."
Charlie wanted to snort. He had a feeling O'Leary already had at least two more candidates for the job in case he fell through. And if not, well... that left some space for thought.
"There's enough cash in there for you to buy a ticket to Leighton and book the cheapest motel for the next week. There's also a card in the envelope with a phone number of your contact. Once you get settled there, arrange a meeting and he will explain the details."
"Why can't you do it?" Charlie asked out of curiosity.
"I'm not privy to everything, neither do I care. Your contact is a trustworthy cop who knows the situation. He will be of bigger help."
Charlie gritted his teeth, not exactly happy about going into the situation blindly.
"What if something goes wrong? What is the chain of command here?"
"Your contact is the first in line. Then me. If you can't get in touch with either of us, you can call Deputy Commissioner Andrews who requested you for the case. No one else. No calling for help to Ballarat, understood, Davis?"
Charlie wanted to take offense at the mere suggestion, but instead, he just gave a nod.
"Good. I will be contacting Superintendent Lawson and let him know you will be unavailable for training reasons. That shall be enough for now."
A waitress stopped by asking if they would like to order something else. They both shook their heads and O'Leary paid for his coffee. Once the waitress was gone, he looked at his watch.
"I'll need to go now. Head out as soon as possible, Davis. They will start looking for new fighters within the next few days."
"I'll head out tonight," Charlie said a bit sourly. He still needed to wrap up some things, pack up and buy a ticket. He also wanted to give a quick read through the file once more, this time with the names and details visible. Anything more would have to wait until the meeting with his contact. Hopefully, the man was friendlier than O'Leary.
"Good luck, Davis," O'Leary said as he got up from the table. "You will need it."
"Thanks," Charlie grumbled, watching the man leaving, obviously satisfied with himself. Charlie followed him with his gaze until O'Leary was out the door, then turned towards his coffee. Two long sips later, Charlie left a tip on the table, grabbed the envelope with all the documents and left. His work had just started.