A/N: And in the end, it was all a matter of trust…

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Flack was shocked beyond words, so he did the only thing he could think of: he stood aside and let her in. By the time he had locked the door behind him, she had taken off the leather coat and was pacing up and down the living room, wringing her hands together, and he couldn't remember having seen her in such a state of distress before… and they had had their share of bad moments.

"I can't do this, Don. I'm calling Cap. I'm calling this whole thing off. Vice better find another way to do this. I… I simply can't go through with it…" she said before he had a chance to ask what had happened.

"So… what you said out there… I take it was a direct quote?"

Angell looked at him with a wry smile… and then burst out crying. Long, soul-shattering sobs that shook her whole body as her hands covered her face and she made an almost inhuman effort to get herself under control, and they frightened Flack, they frightened him real bad. In two strides he was by her side, holding her tight against him, just holding her, letting her ride it out.

He still remembered the first time he had had to wear a wire and bust a drug deal, back in his uniform days, and as soon as the perp was gone, he had found the nearest alley and thrown up. Moran had said it was a normal adrenaline kick reaction… and that's what he kept telling himself when, later that night, he had gotten absolutely wasted and had bawled his eyes out in a sheer terror he had not known before. That was the price you paid for working undercover, and you better get out before it got to you and you burned out. He just prayed Angell's scars would not be permanent.

When her trembling subsided, she gently pulled herself back and he let her go, regretfully, As wrong as it might be, it felt good holding her, and he wished he could do it again sometime soon and under better circumstances. He led her to the sofa and sat down next to her, close enough to lend her comfort, but not so that she felt uncomfortable.

"Tell me"

Tell him? How could she tell him what she'd been through the last four hours? The constant fear of having her cover blown paled in comparison to the things she had had to do in order to convince Nico she wasn't an undercover cop. And the man itself scared her: 6'4" and 210 solid pounds of pure sadistic evil. He had bowed before her in mockery, and then proceeded to do a detailed body search for wires while two of his guns kept their pieces trained to her head.

Satisfied that she wasn't wearing a wire, he began testing her. First, as he showed her around his "little house of pain" (his words, not hers), he kept careful chit chat about their past conversations, and Angell had been grateful for all the hours she had spent with Maya going over the recordings. She assumed Nico was pleased with her answers, for he soon invited her in to his dungeons.

And that's when the horror began.

Flack had patiently waited for her to start talking, but his patience, as well as his nerves, was growing thin. Her silence was worse than anything she could tell him, and all sorts of worst-case scenarios were dancing in his mind. Soon the uncertainty became too much to bear.

"Did he hurt you?"

"No"

"Jenn… please… did he hurt you in any way? Did he… did he touch you?"

Angell was deeply moved by the caring in his voice and the tactful way he tried to express his concerns. She raised her hand and tenderly cupped his cheek, a gentle gesture that seemed out of place after all the madness of the evening.

"Hurt me? No, Don… I was the one who did all the hurting…"

Flack smiled, thinking he had understood, and Angell hoped he wouldn't pursue the matter, 'cause she'd tell him about the hurting, but not about the touching. For Nico had touched her, and in such ways, that she was still surprised she had walked out of there un-raped. Maybe it had been because of what she had done, and Angell had the nagging suspicion that is she had faltered once, it would have been her at the receiving end. Now if she could convince herself that she had done it in order to survive and thus be able to put a stop to Nico's torturing days, then she might get to sleep without nightmares in a couple of years.

The smile turned into a frown when Flack noticed that her smile had not reached her eyes, that those eyes wore a haunted look he knew all too well, and that she was quiet, too quiet.

"Jenn?"

No response. She was pulled inside herself, fighting whatever inner demon was haunting her at the time.

"Angell?"

Silence. But her eyes spoke volumes, loud enough for Flack to wish he'll get a chance to pay Nico a visit after they had cuff him and make him wish he'd never even seen her in his life.

"Jezebel?"

Her head snapped up, a horrified look on her face.

"NO!" She shoved him away. "Don't! Don't you ever call me that again! I'm not HER!"

She tried getting up, but lost her balance due to the heels and her agitated state and landed on the floor next to the sofa. Flack made a move towards her, but she effectively stopped him by raising her arm with her hand extended upwards, imperatively. She pulled her knees towards her chest, allowing her hair to cover her face and Flack decided that if she didn't call it off, he would. He couldn't bear to see her broken up like this.

"Jezebel did some pretty mean shit tonight… pretty mean shit. She whipped and flocked and kicked and canned and tied and gagged and that was the tame stuff. She helped Nico "teach" about erotic asphyxiation and hooded a guy who passed out twice. She found out she's good at piercing people's bodies… problem is, Nico is all about pain, so anesthetics are not a part of the procedure…"

"Jenn, you were only…"

"No, don't tell me she was only doing her job! That ain't no fucking job, Flack! It's not the job when you have to brand a guy using a carving knife and then you get to lick both the knife and the wound. It's not a job when you get to learn how to torture people using electroshocks and leather restraints. Or when you have to sodomize and rape people with every kind of object you can think of, yourself included, until they pass out from the pain…"

Flack was at a loss for words. "Jenn…"

"Jezebel had to prove to Nico that not only she was a sexual mistress, but also a raging sadist and she passed the test with flying colors…"

She looked up from behind the curtain of dark hair. "I'm not her, am I?"

In a moment he was kneeling next to her, holding her close to his chest. "No, sweetheart, you are not…"

And even when he hadn't seen it, he felt it inside when the light in her eyes grew duller and the spark within her dimmed. It was as if being Jezebel was sucking her dry of life, and if that was the case, he'd find a way to get rid of her. He scooted down towards her feet, unzipping the boots as he went along, until he had removed them and tossed aside, where she wouldn't see them. He then undid the snaps at the high neck of the cat-suit she was wearing, and it immediately peeled off her, like dry rotten skin, and he wondered for a moment how she could breathe inside that thing.

"Come on, honey, up we go…" he said, as he reached for her hands and pulled her to her feet as he rose as well. Now that she was barefoot, he was surprised to see the real difference in their heights.

He led her into the bathroom and for a moment wondered just how far he'd have to go in order to get her moving and into the shower. Fortunately, the cold tiles under her floor were enough to make her snap out of it, although not totally, she did look up at him questioningly.

"Shower, nice cup of tea with milk and bed. In that order. No ifs, ands or buts about it. The towels on the rack are clean, help yourself to them…"

"I don't have any clean clothes with me…"

"I'll see what I can do…"

Flack reconsidered his apparently flawless plan. Having assumed she was driving the car, he knew she always kept an extra change of clothes in the trunk so what to wear after the shower had never been a consideration. So he rummaged his closet and drawers, trying to find something suitable for her to wear to bed. Of course, "naked" had been the first option to pop into his mind, and he had quickly pushed it away, but it found sneaky ways to creep back up front as he considered and discarded options.

His old Academy t-shirt was too ratty and full of holes, but he refused to part with it. The rest of his tees might not be long enough to allow for a modest coverage ("naked" jumped up and down again) and his shorts and sweatpants would certainly roll off her hips no matter how much she pulled and tightened the string. If only he had kept that hideous flannel pj that Aunt Selma had sent him for his last birthday!

And then it hit him. Foraging into the upper shelf in the closet, he soon found a cardboard box, still with ribbon attached to it. It was a silk pajama set, done in the palest of blues, with wrap-around top and baggy bottoms. He had gotten it for Devon on a whim, having stumbled into a tiny vintage store that had everything on sale as it was closing down, and he had thought it was the perfect gift, as it looked expensive and had not cost him half his pay-check. But things had gone sour between them before he had the chance to give them to her, and he was stuck with the garment now that the store, and the girl, were gone.

"Flack?"

Angell's voice calling him from the bathroom brought him back to reality and he hurried back, carrying the pajama but not the box. He silently handed them to her, and she gave him a small encouraging smile, giving him hope that she'd be all right. She was a strong woman, and a good cop, and she was a fighter as well. She was going to be okay.

When she came out of the bathroom, Flack felt his heart tug inside of him. She looked so young, so innocent and yet so jaded that his innate protective instinct went up in high gear.

"Wha… what are you doing?" he asked, as he saw her get her coat.

"It's late, and you need to rest, and I'd like to go home…"

Blue dared charcoal, and the darker shade withdrew after only a brief moment.

"Jenn, come on, stay the night. Tomorrow morning we'll go to Cap with your report and we'll figure out a war plan…"

"Thanks"

"Thanks? Just thanks? I can't believe you gave in so easily! It's not fair… it's not fun at all!"

Another weak smile. "Let me get my beauty sleep and I'll kick your ass in the morning, okay?"

He showered as she got ready to settle down for the night. He came back into the bedroom to check up on her and get an afghan and a pillow to sleep on the couch. He found her sitting on the side of the bed that was usually vacant, combing through her still damp hair, absently looking out of the window. She looked as if she belonged in there, and he wished he could stay there and not in the couch… he'd even promise to behave if he was allowed the chance to keep up the charade of domestic bliss seeing her sitting on his bed had brought to his mind.

"I checked my voice mail" she said, conversationally, "Nico wants to meet with us two nights from tonight. I called Capt and he ordered us not to show our faces at precinct tomorrow. He's gonna go chew some ass down in Vice to see if he can force them to change their mind about the whole thing… so… looks like we got ourselves a day off, compliments of Vice and Cap…"

From the way she said it, it sounded as simple as if she had asked for a set of towels to be returned to the store because she didn't like the color.

"Don…."

"Hmm?"

"Is it okay if I sleep in?"

"Sure, no problem… we could both use the rest."

"Well, in that case…"

"You need anything?"

"Hmmno…"

"Good night then, Jenn"

"Don?"

"Yes?"

"Could you stay here with me?"

"Sure"

He put the pillow and the afghan back in the linen's hamper and climbed in bed. She was laying on her side, facing the window, looking at the city lights that shone through the two buildings in front of his own.

"Are you a pillow hugger? Cover thief? Chronic snorer? Slobber much?"

"Don Flack, I had no idea I had to take a test before sharing the bed with you…"

"Hey, you never know. Just making sure. So..?"

"No… none of the above. And I don't talk in my sleep and I don't kick people off bed… asleep, that is."

He smiled at the innuendo but chose to let it pass. He turned off the light of his bedside table and settled on his side, facing her back.

"Cuddle?"

"Thought you'd never ask…"

Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, Flack woke up. His nose was buried in her hair, his right hand possessively splayed over her stomach, his left one placed upon her right breast. And although it wasn't a bad way to wake up, and his whole body tended to agree with him, the timing wasn't quite right yet. Maybe someday, soon, he'll get the courage to actually ask her out on a date, but for the time being…

He disentangled himself from her sleeping form as gently as possible, and seized the opportunity to take a leak and check his voice mail. When he returned to bed, he found Angell on her back, still sleeping. The sash that kept her pajama coat closed had come undone, leaving her chest exposed. Early morning hormones hit full force…

… until he saw the scarring.

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A/N: Cliffhanger! What kind of scarring did Flack saw on Angell's chest? Will Cap manage to send Vice packing? Is Jenn bound to be destroyed by Jezebel? And what's going to happen when Don and Nico come face to face?