Thanks for all the feedback. Review. That's the best thing you can do for me.

Also, this won't be a "mystery" story, per se. If you want a mystery, go read the exceptional Internal Affairs from ThatWrestlingFanWrites. He's a phenomenal writer. He might also be my biological son. This will be a procedural. I'm hoping to tie everything up in about 30 chapters.

Chapter 7: Auld Acquaintances. And new.

There was nothing that could've happened the rest of Christmas Day that was going to top Dean's lightning-quick rendezvous with Colin Cassady. He'd dropped Titus back at the old precinct, gotten a text confirmation from Naomi that the restraining order had been dropped off at Cass's apartment AND that Carmella was safely with Brady and her parents, and swung by the industrial space that was going to be the headquarters for Major Crimes. The place was deserted, as it was Christmas, but it looked like Zack Ryder had done some substantial installation regarding fiber optic internet cables and high speed processors. Dean wanted to grab a couple of files on some of his prospective hires over the next few days.

Tomorrow he'd be meeting AJ Styles. A distinguished officer in Atlanta's formidable "anti-gang task force," AJ was considered one of the country's foremost experts on how to isolate and eliminate various elements in street gang and organized crime activity. AJ was moving to Titan City to be closer to his children, and Dean understood that what was Georgia's loss was his gain.

There was Christian Cage and Chris Jericho. They were both previously of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, and understood every facet of the rampant human trafficking from Toronto and Montreal into Titan City. Unlike with narcotics, it was actually quite easy to smuggle sex workers and illegals both into and out of Canada. There were weak spots along the border that could easily be exploited by focused traffickers with a working knowledge of the terrain and the underground sensors that served as the primary protection of the paths into America's neighbor to the north. Their inclusion in this cutting edge unit came as a courtesy from a law enforcement agency as eager to solve the smuggling crisis as Major Crimes was going to be.

Seth Rollins was a SWAT team sharpshooter from Chicago. Widely regarded as the top performer in the midwest in his field, Seth came to Titan City to escape the doldrums of his life in the windy city. Dean was delighted that he was going to be able to employ him to de-escalate hostage situations and provide longe range cover for his own incursion team.

The last file Dana prepared for him was on Charlotte Flair. Her dossier might have impressed him the most of any of the latest candidates. A graduate of Cornell University, and a former 2nd Lieutenant of the United States Army, Charlotte built her reputation flying Apache helicopter missions in Afghanistan and Iraq, both for the Army and for a private defense contractor after she'd been honorably discharged. She'd spent two additional years training pilots for the Army. It also didn't escape Ambrose that her attached photo made her look like one of those scandinavian bikini models.

All in all, as Ambrose came to surmise, his team was taking shape nicely. But all of that could wait a week.

Right now, Dean was focused on getting back over to Becky's. She told him she was in the mood to cook, and with as tasty as breakfast had been, Ambrose was anxious to get back to the cocoon of joy "Doctor Pretty Lady" had hastily crafted the pair of them.

He got into and out of his house as quickly as his needs would allow. A quick shower did wonders for his energy level, and a change of his clothes helped his appearance tremendously. Feeling optimistic about another invite to stay at Becky's apartment, Dean also replenished his extra clothes for his truck. He packed his toothbrush and other accessories, knowing they could make a real difference as to whether or not the gorgeous physician wanted him to stick around another night.

Dean did reach into his fridge for a beer, pouring it into an old plastic cup he'd gotten as a giveaway at some sporting event years back. He shouldered his bag, briskly strode toward the door, and set about his mission; get back to Becky and spend as much time with her as possible.

The drive back over to Becky's seemed to get longer and longer every time he made it. It was less than five miles, yet it felt like the grand canyon separated Dean from his destination. What was concerning to Ambrose was how eager he was to see Becky again when he'd just been with her earlier that morning. Taking the drive as casually as he could, his pulse quickened as he turned into a parking spot out in front of the red brick building that served as Becky's abode. He called up to her room by pressing a button, before hearing a buzz that indicated he was being let into the facility. Up the stairs he went, until he arrived outside Becky's unit. The door opened, she grinned, that wonderful, vivacious grin that he was becoming hopelessly addicted to, and she took his hands, pulling him playfully but forcefully into her apartment.

And that was how it went for the next week. Becky had asked for the time between Christmas and New Year's off, months before she'd even met Dean, and so the serendipity of her circumstance meant that she could take her new love interest lunch every day as he toiled at some of the more mundane administrative aspects of his new position. He'd hired everyone in the first set of dossiers Dana had given him, and now Charlotte, Seth, Chris, Christian, and AJ were on laptop computers scattered around the warehouse, orientating themselves with the Major Crimes operating procedures and their new duties.

Roman Reigns had also been making regular appearances. He'd been interviewing candidates for the remaining spots on his heavy incursion team, and so far Ryan "Ryback" Reeves and Alex Riley were hires that Reigns felt good about. But what interested Dean the most was the days when Sasha Banks-Reigns, pregnant belly and bright grin, would come striding into Major Crimes' base of operations as though she owned the place, arms full of takeout bags to enjoy with her husband. Dean did get a chuckle out of one such instance, however. After being asked by Roman what he wanted for lunch, and Dean giving a detailed answer, Sasha showed up with a burger and fries, telling Dean he needed to get some 'junk in his trunk.'" It made everyone involved happy that Dean could laugh about that callback, especially Roman, and even Becky got a kick out of the story when she heard it.

And then there were the evening times. Dean would leave work, hit the gym, and either meet Becky at Anvil's or at her apartment. Dean's favorite time of day was quickly becoming that first moment that he saw Becky. She'd greet him warmly, her gentle Irish brogue making his soul tingle. She'd ask him how his day was and open a beer for him. It was almost as though the two were wandering their way into a committed relationship.

The only part of their relationship that wasn't taking the next step was the physical. There had been an increase in what high schoolers would call "making out," with Becky and Dean both doing an amount of kissing that would've caused either to blush if done in public, but things didn't truly escalate until three days before the New Year's Eve ball, when, while doing the horizontal kissing the two were becoming used to, either on the couch in front of a roaring fire or in Becky's bed, the breathtaking redhead found her hand wandering inside the front of Dean's pants. She'd really liked what she found, but it was crucial to her to not jump the gun when it came to physical relations with the erratic cop. Dean had also had his moment of trial, when his hand found itself pleasantly nestled underneath Becky's knit sweater, coming into contact with her bare breast for the first time. She'd moaned softly with abject pleasure, and allowed Dean to continue his reconnaissance work for a moment, but she'd ultimately pulled his hand to her hip again, reminding him of her "mind blowing" promise.

The day of the Mayor's Ball came sooner than Dean realized. He'd gotten his suit dry cleaned, though he'd opted to leave the tie at home, and even bought a small corsage for his date. It was becoming almost painful how much Dean was into Becky. In fact, if things went well at the Charity event, Dean planned on speaking to the redhead about exclusivity.

"Time to 'lock that shit down' like Sasha said," he muttered to himself as he stared himself down in his bathroom mirror, carefully shaving for the first time in a while. Becky would've never come out and said it, but Dean had inferred from some off-handed comments she'd made over the last few days that it was important to her to really impress her boss. As a result, Dean was careful to consider every aspect of his appearance for the evening.

After showering, shaving, and brushing his teeth, Dean pulled on his custom-made suit. He hadn't actually worn it in some time. In fact, the last time he'd donned the suit, it was for the court date in which his divorce had been finalized. After such a devastating occasion, Dean hadn't found another reason to put his suit on. But for Becky, Dean rationalized, he would absolutely face down his mournful past.

And it was worth it. Dean parked out front of Becky's building, as he always did, and dutifully pressed the button to be "buzzed" up to Becky's housing unit. The anticipation of seeing the breathtaking surgeon in whatever she'd chosen for attire on that fateful evening was beginning to gnaw at the pit of the officer's stomach.

All of his trepidation turned to elation, however, when Becky bashfully opened her door, allowing Ambrose to take in all of her beauty for the first time that night. She was glamorously adorned in a dark blue-green evening dress, the sequins catching the overhead lights just perfectly. Her matching shoes made her face closer to Dean's, and he took advantage by planting a lengthy, tongue-filled kiss on his date.

"Hey, Dean," she began, still on a high from the kiss he'd laid on her.

"Hey, doctor pretty lady," Dean rasped in return. "You look absolutely stunning."

Becky tried not to blush, though her grin revealed how flattered she was by Dean's positive reinforcement of her appearance.

"Thank you, Dean. You clean up pretty good yourself."

Dean smiled in return. "Thanks, beautiful. You ready?"

Becky gave her date a look up and down. After a second, she remembered something from earlier that day. "I got you something," she asserted, the grin growing wide on her face. She tailed off into her apartment, before returning with a small gift bag.

"I bought this for you when I bought my dress. This way we'll match." She divided some tissue paper with her hand, pulling out a tie that matched the color of her formal dress.

"I know you're not normally a tie guy, Dean, but my boss and his boss are both going to be there, and I really want to make sure we look dynamite for this event."

Dean sighed deeply. In an instant, his brain was waging an internal war between making Becky happy and fighting for his individualism. He hated ties. A ton. But he also wanted to make his Irish angel happy.

"I'll tie it for you," she lilted, trying her best to convey how important him wearing the tie was to her without expressly saying it.

Dean smiled, running his hand lightly up and down her arm. "I'll wear it, Beck. Since you want me to."

Becky's smile grew even brighter, and she impulsively threw her arms around Dean's neck.

"Thank you, Dean. That means a lot." She held the man in her arms another moment, letting her fully feel her against him, before pecking him on the lips. She grinned at him, before pulling him gently into her apartment by the lapels, wanting to help him finish getting ready for their special evening.

Settling into their table in the ballroom at the historic Tunney Hotel in downtown Titan City, Dean didn't want to admit how good a time he was having. He could tell they'd become the talk of the party as soon as they'd gotten there. Bayley was there, with her boyfriend, who she'd introduced as "Bobby Roode." Dean had seen Foley, who was there with his wife, and was more than a little inebriated. He saw Roman and Sasha, who were clearly enjoying the night out. Sasha was clad in a breathtaking black evening gown, albeit one that had room for her baby bump within it. She smiled and waved when she saw her ex and his date, and the four even managed congenial small talk upon Dean and Becky's arrival.

And then there was Renee Young. Dean had heard she was dating Brad Maddox, that hot shit defense attorney that had gotten so many felons off for the crimes they'd committed, Brad was a gifted manipulator of criminal law, which probably spoke to how big a remorseless sack of shit he actually was. There was always a smug half-smile tattooed across his face. Dean didn't want his ex-wife back, but he hated her new man. Almost irrationally. Watching them walk through the doors, making their presences known from all corners of the banquet hall, Dean felt a tightening in his stomach.

There were many other guests there that Dean found interesting, if not downright concerning. "For an event sponsored by our city's government," Dean mused internally, "there sure are a lot of reputed scumbags here."

And there really were. Alberto Del Rio made his presence known sometime between nine and ten pm, clad in a three piece suit that looked like it cost more than what Dean made in a year. Over that, he wore a big, extravagant fur coat, and he had a girl with hair even redder than Becky's on his arm. Dean instantly recognized Eva Marie. She was one of the feature dancers at Fabulous Moolah's, a strip club that Del Rio owned and allegedly used as a front for illegal activities. Dean hoped Becky wouldn't ask him how he knew her, as he couldn't think of a convincing lie that would make her think he wasn't a regular attendee.

Next to him was Alexandre Rusev. The thickly muscled eastern european cut an intimidating silhouette in his tuxedo, and Dean was impressed by the elegant blonde on his arm. Around Del Rio were six to eight other faces Dean recognized from previous investigations. Dean must've been staring, because he could hear Becky's voice cut into his inner monologue.

"Who's that?"

Dean smiled. "That's Alberto Del Rio. Restauranteur, Entrepreneur, and according to some, ruthless organized crime kingpin."

Becky's face lost some color. "What's he doing here then?"

"I'm not real sure," Dean returned. "I guess he bought a ticket." He noticed a confused look on his date's face. "He's been taken into custody four times in three years. TCPD can't ever make anything stick, so he sues the pants off the city for wrongful arrest every time. He's made twenty one million in settlements."

Becky, now midway through her second martini, let out a low whistle. "I should get arrested wrongfully. I could quit my job."

Dean chortled knowingly. "You and me both." Ambrose returned his gaze to the tall Latino. "He's the big fish of Titan City. Allegedly, he's got his hands in every pot in this town. Narcotics trafficking, human trafficking, weapons, prostitution. He oversees it all. Allegedly. But that circle of guys around him? One of them always ends up taking the fall. So he gets to come to charity events while one of his underlings rots in jail until his fancy lawyer can get them out."

Becky turned her head sideways. "Must be a good lawyer."

Dean nodded ruefully. "He is. Paul Heyman. High priced. Low morals. My ex-wife is dating one of his junior partners, actually."

Becky scrunched her face in disgust. "That smarmy looking prick from the Christmas Eve service?"

"The same," Dean affirmed. "They make a ton of money getting felons out of the jail time they so richly deserve."

"Assholes," Becky muttered.

"Yup," Dean confirmed, "take this guy walking in now." Dean gestured toward a tall, rangy man with a rigid part through his inky black hair. "That's Wade Barrett. He's from England. Reputed weapons importer and dealer. He's Del Rio's chief competition, though they're fairly friendly now."

"Were they not friendly before?" Becky inquired, now wrapped up in the drama.

Dean snickered knowingly. "Nope. See that pale girl with Wade?"

Becky nodded. "Yeah."

"That's Paige Knight. She was Alberto's jewel. He left his wife for her. They were a thing for like, a year. Then one day we all wake up and she'd left him for Wade. It makes sense if you think about it. They're both British. He's more 'age- appropriate.' Plus there's less competition with Wade."

"Less competition?" Becky asked, a mask of confusion painted across her face.

"Well, yeah," Dean continued. "Alberto owns at least one strip club. Anyway, Wade and Alberto almost went to war over her, which I think is what she wanted. But they both realized it'd cost them too much money, so Alberto let it lie. She's pretty high maintenance, from what our informants say, so I'm not sure how sad Alberto was to see her go."

Becky grinned. "You sure know a lot about them."

Dean nodded, sliding his hand over his date's. "It's my job to know. But I'm not at my job now, am I?"

Becky leaned into him and kissed him, noting internally how much she still enjoyed doing that.

"You sure aren't, Dean." She pressed her hands to his chest, lightly running them up and down before playfully adjusting his tie. "You look so handsome in your suit. Have I said that?"

Dean gave Becky that half-grin that made her heart flutter slightly. "It's always nice to hear, Beck."

And that's how it went between the two of them for the remainder of the night. Deputy Mayor Eric Bischoff gave a speech, as did Tony Garea, the head of surgery at at Rogers Memorial Hospital. There was more dancing, and Sasha DID get her dance with Dean, while Roman and Becky paired off and made small talk nearby. Dinner was served, though neither of the two ate the entire meal, and each had just enough "liquid courage" to take the edge off of what was shaping up to be a significant evening in the annals of their budding relationship.

Dean's favorite part, even after all the things that would come after on that fateful evening, might have been the tender kiss the pair shared as the clock struck midnight. The year before, Dean had spent New Year's Eve at a dive bar, chatting up various women and trying to block the pain of Renee's impending departure with alcohol and as much time at work as he could bear. Now, a year later, Ambrose was ringing in the new year with a breathtaking redhead who appeared to be every bit as into him as he was into her, sipping champagne and top-shelf cocktails at a gathering of Titan City's "who's who's." Even better, his ex-wife was watching his canoodling with his new love interest with a look on her face that made her look like she'd been sucking oatmeal through a siphon hose.

"Why is she so mad?" Becky finally asked Dean, stumped as to why his ex would be upset with him dating someone new.

"I really have no idea," Dean muttered. "It's not like I left her, and, she's been dating that Maddox dude since August. She got serious with him while I was still plowing through rebound ska-" Dean stopped himself as he noticed Becky's eyebrow starting to raise. "Sorry, I wasn't in a good place."

Becky, suddenly concerned, rested a hand on her hip and gave Dean a look that suggested it was time he get serious.

"'Rebound skank?' And what does that make me, Dean?"

The erratic young man searched Becky's expression for signs that she wasn't serious. Finding none, Dean swallowed hard. He hadn't wanted to have this conversation until they were alone, either in his car or at her apartment. But, if she felt like she needed to hear him say it now, he'd happily oblige.

"So, I kinda wanted to talk to you about that."

Before Becky could respond, or Dean could launch into a long soliloquy, the three piece band that had been intermittently playing throughout the evening kicked in once again, and "Tupelo Honey" by VAN MORRISON began softly wafting from the room.

"Dance with me," Dean implored his auburn-haired date, whose face had become something of a resolute mask of irritation. She rolled her eyes, annoyed that Dean would try to change the subject, but she dutifully followed him onto the dance floor.

"I like this song," he mused, trying to delay the more important conversation for as long as possible. "When I was in the eighth grade, I got asked to the 'Sadie Hawkins' dance by this girl Summer Rae."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Becky asked, running out of patience.

"When I told my mom I didn't want to go, she asked me why. I wouldn't tell her, so she guessed it was because I didn't know how to dance. This is one of the songs she played to show me how."

Becky's heart melted a bit at the retelling of that story. Despite his many shortcomings, she could see that Dean was trying to do right by her.

"That's very sweet, Dean," Becky urged affectionately. "But what does that have to do with me?"

Dean chuckled. "Not a whole lot, I just wanted you to know that I wouldn't dance to this song with just anyone." He broke eye contact, swallowed his fear, and cleared his throat.

"I've really enjoyed getting to know you the last couple weeks."

"Me too, Dean," Becky returned gently, her grin growing bright.

"Good. Good." He sighed, steeling himself against the apprehension he felt. "So, are you seeing anyone else?"

Color rushed to Becky's already rosy cheeks as she figured out where Dean was headed with his line of questioning. "No," she breathily responded, "but there is a doctor in the emergency room that's been sniffing around. Very handsy."

Dean's expression changed to one of rage. "Where is he? I'll gut that motherfu-"

His assertion was cut off by Becky taking his face in between the palms of her hands and kissing him. She lingered there, her lips pressed against his, and she felt his tenseness instantly dissolve into thin air.

"It's okay, Dean, I was joking." She wasn't, but Dean didn't need to know that. "What were you saying?"

"Oh," Dean exclaimed softly, remembering his original train of thought. "I was just thinking that maybe you and I could do this just us for a while?"

Becky hung her head, trying to hide how fully she was blushing. "You mean, like, be your girlfriend?"

Dean nodded.

Becky smiled coyly, finally looking back up at her love interest. "I need you to ask me proper."

Dean snickered. "Really?"

Becky grinned. "Aye." She kissed Dean gently again. "Ask me to be your girlfriend."

Dean shrugged and shook his head slowly. "Becky, would you please be exclusive with me and be my girlfriend?"

Becky giggled in spite of herself. She'd met lots of men since she'd been in Titan City, but no one even close to Dean. She found his erratic nature endearing, his strong demeanor comforting, and she found him attractive from head to toe. And, she admitted to herself, if he was serious about being committed to this relationship, then that "head to toe" thing was going to be much more detailed.

"Well?" Dean asked, breaking Becky's train of thought.

"Oh, sorry. Of course, Dean, I would love to be your girlfriend."

Dean barely noticed the band breaking into another song by the same artist, "Into the Mystic." He barely noticed the growing number of eyes on the two of them as they swayed together on their little corner of the dance floor. He barely noticed Sasha and Roman grinning over at the two of them like a pair of fine idiots. What he did notice was the internal glow of Becky Lynch start to grow brighter and brighter.

Becky slinked her arms behind Dean's neck and smiled. "I feel real lucky right now. THE Dean Ambrose is asking me to be exclusive. How lucky can a girl get?" She kissed him quickly, swaying her hips back and forth slightly.

"Hopefully you still feel that way when I tell you the next part." Dean paused, gathered his composure, took several deep breaths, and began again. "I got us a room. You know, in case things went well. We don't even have to-" He cut himself off as Becky began laughing, shaking her head at what Dean thought was his presumption.

"Sorry, I guess," Dean continued, somewhat dejectedly. He began to pull away from Becky, smarting at the perceived rejection, until Becky pulled him in closer by the hands and kissed him softly.

"No, Dean, it's not that." The grin on her face grew wider as Dean's expression softened. "I...got us a room too. A suite."

Now Dean was grinning like an idiot. "Really?"

Becky squeezed his hands gently. "Yeah. I did surgery on the head concierge over the summer. Very nice lady. She said if I ever needed anything to let her know. I got us a top floor suite. I was hoping you'd stay with me. I'm gonna be in there all week since they're doing renovation work on our condo. Bayley's staying with her boyfriend. You're welcome to stay as much or as little of the week as you'd like, but if you do stay…"

She leaned into Dean's ear, whispering seductively. The suddenly stunned Ambrose's eyes grew wide as he listened to Becky's plan for passing the time. When she was through telling him her plans for him for the rest of the evening, she took a gentle, almost imperceptible nibble on his earlobe, sending goosebumps down Dean's entire form.

"I'm really looking forward to blowing your...mind," she intimated, her voice lower and more sultry than Dean had ever heard it.

"I am, too, Beck." Dean grinned before lightly pecking his date's forehead. "But I don't have a damn thing to wear, or sleep in, or…"

He trailed off as Becky giggled. "Now I have to make a confession." She smiled wider as Dean's head cocked in confusion. "I was here earlier today. Setting up."

Dean was almost afraid to ask the next question. "Setting up what?"

"I… was hoping to have the same talk with you that you ended up having with me. I washed all the clothes you left at my house, which was a lot," she snickered as Dean's face flushed with embarrassment. "I packed them and they're upstairs. With my stuff. Just in case." She winked at him as she shook his head.

"What am I gonna do with you?" Dean asked as Becky's eyes found the ground and she bit her lip.

"I'm thinking of a few things you can do with me, Dean Ambrose," Becky lilted, as she squeezed his hands in hers. "Now c'mon, I'm ready to go upstairs."

Dean shook his head. There were times when he felt like he didn't know this woman at all. What he DID know, that very night, was that there was nowhere he'd rather be, and no one he'd rather be with, than right there with the gorgeous, intoxicating Becky Lynch.

Sorry for the delay. Weird stuff is happening. I'm not giving up on this story. I'm just working at a slower pace now. Review. Love you. Bye.