AN: Slow build, for this chapter. Mild trigger-y elements in this chapter due to the mention of child endangerment. And John's episode.. Angst ahoy! Love that the story's being read, comments are love! As always, unbeta'd. So any errors are mine and mine alone. Hopefully you all are enjoying it! Disclaimer from Chapter 1 still stands. Don't own squat, just lovin' on the awesome.

Update: Just a few minor changes in chapter 2. Still not enough to really alter the storyline or anything of that nature, but when I update, I try to hit 'em all.

Chapter 2

He was standing at the end of the alleyway. The first perp had vanished into the darkness between the buildings just moments before. He could still hear the distinct sound of footsteps splashing through the puddles that seemed ever-present in the dank darkness. Dorian had gone after the second perp, and would no doubt have his guy caught and collared before John had even found his. Not that it mattered. He wouldn't race to catch the guy, but he would catch him.

Growling softly, he skirted along one of the dingy brick walls and sought to see through the gloom. It was near sunset, and the shadows had already taken over. His steps sounded ridiculously loud to his own ears, but he kept moving forward. On his two, he could hear the sound of someone panting, moving around. What the perp hadn't realized was this was John's old stomping ground. Kennex knew the neighborhood better than most.

The alley was a dead end.

Feeling a little more confident, John called out once. "Police! Come out with your hands up!"

The shot that rang out was his only answer. Kennex ducked, very nearly face-planting into a puddle of unknown origins. The ricochet from the bullet sent brick and mortar down into his hair, dusting him lightly. For as dark as it was, whoever the perp was, they were damned good at finding him. He narrowed his eyes and leaned a shoulder against the dumpster.

Movement. Kennex honed in on it and aimed. "You're surrounded, asshole. Come out or I'm coming in. And you don't want that." He warned. There was a second shot. It went wide, missing him completely. But it was clear that whoever it was, they weren't giving up.

'It's now or never, Kennex,' he thought to himself. Lunging forward, he leapt to his feet and began advancing quickly and aimed, firing a little blindly. He had a rough guess as to where the perp was hiding and aimed. Firing in a quick succession, he managed to get three rounds off before he felt the impact to his prosthetic. There was a flash of light as the damage was registered by the internal server, which gave away his position, and John swore vehemently as he collapsed onto the pavement. The leg was useless to him now.

But in that moment, the perp came out of the shadows. One small swath of light caught the shape as he advanced and John raised his gun.

And fired.

The perp crumpled at his feet and John lifted his flashlight from one of his many pockets. He shined it onto the form laid out before him like a sacrifice. It was a kid. A goddamned child. The face was peaceful, laying in the muck and god only knew what that littered the ground of the alley. Tawny curls framed the nearly cherubic face and John felt like vomiting.

He'd shot a fucking child.

He glossed over the fact that the kid had been shooting at him first and had completely trashed his prosthetic. The press and the precinct were going to have a fucking field day with the news. 'Detective Kennex, already unbalanced and off his fucking rocker, had shot and killed a kid.'

Slowly, he made his way closer to the small body. The kid looked to be ten, maybe twelve years old. He should have been full of life, not laying broken on the ground of some godforsaken alley in the middle of one of the rougher districts. He had to drag the fucking prosthetic behind him, and he grunted with the effort. Who knew that prosthetic legs could be so damned heavy when not in use?

He checked for a pulse and damned near sobbed in relief when he felt it. He closed his eyes and tapped his radio. "Kennex to Dispatch.. I got a 10-91. Send 10-52 to my GPS. Single gunshot wound."

Kennex sagged against the dumpster and stared at the boy until the flashing red and blue lights of the ambulance could be seen. It was Dorian who...

"John? John are you alright?" It was Dorian.

He turned, blinking owlishly from where he'd been hunched over, holding his stomach. He had finished showering without even realizing he'd done it. He stood in the middle of the bathroom, using the sink as leverage to hold himself upright. A towel was secured around his waist and his skin was clammy. Jesus... how long had he been like that? He'd been reliving the night in question.

"Fine. I'm fine." He said gruffly, turning away to stalk past the DRN.

But Dorian, being who and what he was, knew better. "John, your blood pressure is up, your heart rate is through the roof and your stress just jumped to a dangerous level. Do we need to take you to get more medication?" He knew. Dorian knew he was taking the black market meds from the Recollectionist. He knew and he said nothing.

John, jaw tight, shook his head. "No. I have plenty. I'll be fine, alright? Just another episode." He blew it off, because that's all it was. If he had a damned hobby, they'd be less frequent. He knew that. But hobbies were for the happy and healthy. There really was nothing that held his interest anymore. Nothing but his job. It was the depression speaking, he knew that much. Hell, John was the textbook definition of what it meant to be depressed. He exhibited all the symptoms. One of his fears, albeit unspoken, had been being forced to remain home alone. He knew that he'd just crawl into bed one night and not leave it again. Fuck the world, he'd stay in bed. Thankfully, there was this damned case. And Dorian. Amazingly, his DRN kept him from losing his damned marbles.

He sighed and settled on the bed, still wearing the towel. He'd get dressed as soon as Dorian left the room. "We need to discuss the plan. But not here." He gave Dorian a pointed look. "I'm getting dressed now."

Dorian blinked. "No you're not. You're sitting on the bed. And yes, we do need to discuss this. Both of our futures are dependent upon the success of this misguided mission of yours."

The headache was getting worse. "No, I mean I'm going to get dressed as soon as you leave." John rubbed his nose and then jerked his chin toward the door that led into the main living area.

Dorian's mouth opened in a silent 'O' of understanding. He nodded and made an exit to await John's arrival. "And quit askin' me about my damned tree!" He called after the DRN, before pushing himself to stand. He made his way to his closet and stared at it for a full moment. It was painfully bare. His clothing hung on one side, while the other was utterly empty. Her clothes had hung there.

He'd deleted the message she'd recorded so very long ago. But he couldn't delete the memories that remained.

Shaking his head, he grabbed his clothes and shut the doors a little harder than necessary. He turned his back on the memories. On the loss and emptiness. The fact remained that she might be there awaiting him. And what would he do then? What could he do?

But finally, he was ready. He looked like he had during his time as a Ghost. Black from head to toe, he was spit-polished and ready to kick some ass. His boots made little sound on the hardwood floor as he closed in on Dorian. The DRN, well aware of his location and contemplating all possible scenarios, turned and stared.

"John, are we going in to help the precinct or take it over?" He asked, expression a little wary. It was amazing how expressive he was.

Kennex smirked and gave the question a moment's consideration. He knew what he was planning, but the idea of watching the DRN squirm under his scrutiny was totally worth it. Finally, when Dorian was starting to look a bit more concerned, the detective grinned. It wasn't a nice grin. "We're going in to help save the day, Dorian. Don't you worry your pretty head about that." He chuckled darkly and turned to refill his coffee. "I need schematics, floor plans, possible entry and exit points. Everything."

Dorian nodded, not-so-visibly relieved that John wasn't actually undergoing a complete and total mental breakdown before his eyes. While he was qualified to restrain and possibly hospitalize the detective, he didn't really want to have that responsibility on his shoulders. He walked over to John's computer and accessed it, uploading his information.

"Alright. I have everything that you asked for here, here and here..." He tapped the holo-screen, bringing up each of John's requests. "I also have the schedule for the next three days. Who's to be on duty and who requested vacation. It looks like... oh.. oh that's not good."

"What? What's not good?" John turned, brows furrowing. He brought his cup over and set it on the counter, gazing over Dorian's shoulder. There, clear as schematics, were the names of those on duty for Christmas Eve.

Det. Stahl, Valerie.

Capt. Maldonado, Sandra.

Both were scheduled to work. It was John's first Christmas working around Stahl, so he didn't know her tendencies, but the fact that both of the women were to be in the building when the majority of the force would be off with families and such. It didn't bode well. John pulled away from Dorian and gave him a look.

"You know they'd never forgive us if he left 'em to suffer Insyndicate without us.."

Dorian nodded quietly. "You know protocol dictates I should warn both Detective Stahl and Captain Maldonado."

John sighed. "Yeah, and if you warn them, what then? What can they do, just the two of them? They'll need help."

If they had advanced warning, they'd be anticipating John's arrival and probably toss his ass in jail while the entire precinct fell. John shook his head. "You can't, Dorian. This needs to be covert. Informing them would screw us."

There wasn't much time, all told, to plan for something of that magnitude. Where Insyndicate had months to plot and plan and make certain they had all their I's dotted and T's crossed, John and Dorian were flying, essentially by the seat of their pants. They spent the remainder of the day plotting possibilities, only to have Dorian poke holes in John's ideas. Christmas eve-day didn't fare much better. Ultimately, the idea to sneak John into the precinct seemed to make the most sense.

Tucked into the trunk, which was an incredibly tight fit for John's 6'1" frame, the detective rode in cramped silence. His duffel bag of weaponry and armor sat in the back seat, and Dorian drove. To an outsider, it looked as though the DRN was heading into the precinct for the night to recharge. The dampener that lined the trunk blocked all signal from any wayward MX units that might scan the car. It would read empty, which was what they were counting on. The car would be parked underneath the building, giving Kennex the necessary route to make his way inside the building proper. And a well-timed alarm would sound and open the trunk for John to escape the confines of the trunk, grab his bag, and head inside.

It really was foolproof.

Which, of course, meant it was going to go to hell in a hand-basket the moment Dorian entered the parking lot.

They'd waited until twilight on Christmas Eve, hoping that they'd get in before Insyndicate did. And before Stahl did. What they hadn't anticipated was the possibility of human error on Stahl's part. She was pulling into the parking lot and parking when Dorian was, leaving the DRN stuck talking to the detective while Maldonado and a skeleton crew of MX's were left alone in the upper floors.

As the alarm had been set on a timer, it went off while Stahl was still talking to Dorian. The hood popped up, revealing a very cramped and grouchy-looking Kennex. He winced at the sudden rush of light and caught sight of not one, but two pairs of eyes, watching him.

Shit.

"Detective Stahl..." John started as he clambered out of the trunk, very nearly falling out on his ass. He cursed softly at the lack of space and the fact that he'd had to have been there, essentially for nothing.

"John? You're on suspension. You're not supposed to be here." She said softly.

He sighed, gaze darting to Dorian's for a moment before settling on Stahl. "Yeah, about that.."

Stahl was no idiot, though. She turned to Dorian and settled a rather accusatory glare his direction. "You brought him, Dorian. What were you thinking? They're going to decommission you when they find out."

Dorian gave John an apologetic look and shrugged, before explaining the patterns he'd found, what they'd postulated and what they were planning. It was almost better, he explained, that she knew. It meant that she could warn Maldonado and have them all in the loop so they could overtake anyone they came across. In theory. They could, in effect, be better prepared should something actually happen. To which Stahl very pragmatically reminded the men that if it turned out to be nothing of the sort, John would very likely wind up both losing his job and having his ass tossed in jail. It surprised both Stahl and Dorian that John was so willing to pay that price.

But then, everything worked in theory. It was the practical use of the theory where everything went to shit. At least, that was John's experience.