A/N - Thanks to those that reviewed the prologue. I tried to keep Trips away but he just wasn't having it lol. He will have a supporting role at best though. This is all about John/Trish/Randy. Speaking of Randy, he'll be up next. I hope to have an update posted soon.

3 Years Later

The sun streamed in through the blinds early on a Saturday morning. Trish rolled onto her side with a heavy sigh. Her eyes squinted as she sat up and slowly but surely started to wake up. The sound of music and soft humming drifted in from the kitchen along with the wonderful smell of bacon. Her stomach growled and she eagerly threw the covers off and ran out into the living area of the apartment.

"Hey! I knew the smell of bacon would get to you. Even in your sleep you can't resist it!"

She laughed as she finally came to stand at his side. "Shut up!" She bumped his hip with her own and surveyed the kitchen. The table was set for two, there was a glass of orange juice and a cup of coffee at each plate and a nice selection of bread in the middle. Her heart did a little flip. He had done all of this for her.

"That's no way to treat your fiancé, especially when he's been slaving way for the better part of the morning trying to cook you a nice breakfast!" John huffed. He turned his back to her in order to hide his smile.

"I'm sorry. Here," she promptly took a seat at the table and smiled at him. "You can serve me and maybe afterwards I'll show you how appreciative I am of your efforts."

John felt his stomach drop at her suggestion and he quickly began to serve the food onto the plates. In under a minute he managed to have a plate heaped with bacon, egg and sausage in front of her. He sat down with his own and noticed the amused expression on her face. "What?"

"Oh nothing."

"WHAT?" he asked again causing her to laugh out loud.

Trish chuckled. She popped some egg into her mouth and took a sip of her orange juice. "It's just that, well, every time I dangle the carrot of sex in front of you I seem to get whatever I want!"

"Dangle the carrot of sex? I don't even know what the hell that means!"

She put her best seductive face on and leaned across the table, her hand reaching out to touch his chest. "Why don't you hurry up and eat and you might find out," she whispered. She settled back into her chair but it was only for a moment as he quickly leapt to his feet and pulled her up.

"Ahhhhh! John! What are you doing?" she squealed helplessly as he flung her over his shoulder.

John laughed, making his way through the small apartment to their bedroom and dumping her on the bed. "I want my carrot," he deadpanned.

Trish looked at his serious expression before she burst into laughter and pulled him down beside her. Her eyes immediately shut at the feel of his lips on her neck. "What about breakfast?" she said breathlessly.

He pulled back and looked her dead in the eye. "It can wait."

That was all it took and soon they became caught up in each other. He rolled to his back and pulled her on top of his firm body. She opened her mouth to him while her hands ran along his hard chest. Food was the last thing on her mind. John groaned as her hands met his waistband and ventured lower. She was driving him crazy. He was about to roll them over again when the shrill ring of a phone interrupted the peaceful silence of the room. He pulled back and moved for the bedside table.

She grabbed his face and kissed him again. "Leave it," she whispered against his mouth. But she could only sigh in frustration as he gently pushed her off and reached for his cell phone.

"Sorry babe. It could be the precinct," he uttered apologetically before tugging the phone to his ear. "Cena."

Trish frowned and got up from the bed as he conversed with whoever was on the line. She knew it was the precinct. It always was the damn precinct. Sometimes she wondered where his loyalty lay, with her or with his job. Even after all this time, after all the fights, all the arguments, the make ups, him making detective and their engagement, he was still trying to impress every and anybody wearing a blue uniform. She was so over it. She only wished he would be too. She cursed under her breath as she wrapped her favourite robe around herself and listened to him agree to something. Great. This was going to be another Saturday spent alone.

"OK. I'm on it. I'll be there in an hour. Bye." John hung up the phone and turned nervously. He saw her standing over by the window and he didn't need to see her face to know she was pissed. But he couldn't say no, not to a case like this. There had been a mass homicide down by the river. The captain wanted the best men on the job. How could he refuse to go when he was being sought after like that? He just hoped to God she would understand.

"Trish?" No answer.

"Trish babe. Come on," he hushed into her ear as he wrapped his arms around her from behind. He sighed when she shrugged him off and rubbed at his temples. He sensed another fight. And if he was being honest, he really couldn't be bothered with it this time. Besides, he had somewhere to be. This would just have to wait. "I have to go down to the river. There was a mass homicide. They need the best guys and..."

Trish put her hand up to stop him. "Just go, John."

"Can we talk when I get back?"

The slamming of the bathroom door was his reply.

"Hey man. What's the story?" John asked as he cautiously side stepped a body bag and looked down at the man currently perched over it. He had never seen anything like this in his life. The place was covered in body bags, blood and shell casings. He'd seen some pretty horrific crime scenes in his time but this definitely took the cake.

"Hey! I didn't think you were on call this weekend," replied John's partner and friend, Paul Levesque. The two had made detective at the same time and had been paired together when Paul joined the precinct. Unlike some, they had stricken a great friendship and really did operate as a team.

"Yeah well, you know me. I can never stay away from a massacre."

Paul managed a small chuckle as he got to his feet before turning serious. "You got that right. This was a massacre. Remember one of Orton's guys got hit last week? Well this is the retaliation only Orton decided to go after the whole fucking lot of them."

"Shit," John sighed running a hand over his face. He glanced around the abandoned warehouse once more, taking in the carnage. Rumblings of a new war between the cities rival gangs and families were getting more and more frequent. He knew that concern would multiply tenfold with this little incident. It was looking more and more like Orton was on a mission to wipe his competition out. The hits on rival gang members had went through the roof and his intentions were clear from this latest attack.

"An appropriate choice of words buddy," Paul said, patting him on the shoulder. "The CSI's think it happened late last night, early this morning. Some homeless guy was walking about the dock area and stumbled upon it a few hours ago." He shook his head as he took in the mess once more. It really was a grim sight.

"CENA! LEVESQUE!"

Both men turned at the sound of their Captain's raspy call. The small but venerable older man joined them and placed a hand on each of their shoulders. "You guys are taking this one. If this Orton guy thinks he's going to pull this City into another gang war he's got another fucking thing coming. Do whatever you have to do, I want him caught and fried, you hear me? I've got the fucking Mayor on my back already and I want him fucking off it. We clear?"

"Crystal," John nodded before turning to his friend. "Come on, man. We've got work to do." He spotted some uniforms talking to the homeless guy that found the crime scene and started walking in their direction.

"It's nice to know that Donnelly's still an asshole," Paul muttered when they were out of earshot. "Jesus!"

John chuckled lowly. Their Captain was a hard-ass and every other word out of his mouth was 'fuck' but the man appreciated hard work and rewarded it well. He could put up with his attitude if it meant he would see the upside to all the arguments he was having at home. He sighed as Trish entered his mind. He didn't even want to think about her. Her juvenile reaction before he had left their apartment had left a sour taste in his mouth. Lately it felt like his Captain wasn't the only one with an attitude problem.

"John? You're spacing out on me."

He shook his head and smiled in an attempt to avoid having to explain himself to Paul. From his friend's concerned expression he knew a question and answer session was coming up and he wasn't in the mood. He just wanted to get stuck into this case and find some leads. "Sorry. I was just thinking about the case."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure man."

Paul nodded hesitantly. "OK."

"Great. So, let's hope this guy can give us something useful to go on otherwise we'll be stuck in the crime lab all day."

Paul agreed as they finally came to a stop in front of the old man. He immediately sucked in a breath at the stench radiating off of him. The poor guy was wearing ratty clothes that had holes all over and looked as bad as he smelled. He tried not to screw his face up as he began his questioning. "What's your name, sir?"

"Mi...Mi...Michael. Michael Jackson," the old man stuttered.

Paul and John exchanged sideways glances.

"Michael Jackson?" Paul mouthed in amusement.

John could only shrug his shoulders in response. He turned his attention back to the old man, noticing the smirks on the faces of the uniforms standing behind him.

"He says his name is Michael Jackson and that he's from Hollywood," one of the uniforms started. "We didn't get much out of him apart from what he saw before the CSI's turned up. Other than that, good luck." The young man tipped his hat before walking off with his partner.

"Well then, Michael, can you tell us how you ended up here this morning?" Paul asked as he whipped out his notepad and pen.

"I...I... was on my...way...way back from...from my con...con...concert when...I saw...some blood...blood...on the ground...I...I walked over and...saw all these...bodies...just...just layin' here," he stuttered. His eyes rolled around in his head and he twitched every now and then. It was clear that he was either high as a kite or completely insane.

John rolled his eyes. They weren't going to get anything else from him. They probably wouldn't even be able to put him on the stand, if it even got that far. He just knew this was the start of a bumpy ride and while he was pleased to be given the lead on such a big case, he feared for what it would mean for his relationship. Judging from the usefulness of the crazy man before him, things weren't looking all that good.