Beckett wasn't worrying about exposure, or photos, or video, or any possible publicity that could come from scaling a three story building by using the windows as her stepladder.

She just wanted to find the guys who were taking shots at her and her friends.

Beckett stopped for the briefest of moments on the roof of the brownstone, opening her senses for any trace of her target. Smell ended up taking the lead: the nervous, sweat-drenched shooter was high on *something*. It left a residual aroma that was sweet, musky, pungent, smoky and nauseatingly easy to track. She took off at a sprint, following the scent until her eyes caught up with her nose.

A familiar voice echoed in her mind as she ran. Beckett, where are you? asked Ryan. Lanie called us once the paramedics got to the restaurant.

I'm on top of 12th and 2nd, heading west. Thank God this idiot decided to run roofs...

What's this guy look like? asked Esposito. Beckett flashed a mental image of the suspect around the mind-link.

We'll get to the intersection, Ryan assured Beckett. If he hits street level let us know which way he goes.

Gotcha. Beckett caught up with the shooter as the wide avenue in front of him halted his progress. He turned around to face Beckett, pointing the gun directly at her head. The shooter's hand was trembling so badly, though, that Beckett knew it would be impossible for the man to get a clean shot off. "H-h-how did you get up here?" the man stammered out, eyes wide with shock and mad with whatever drug he was high on.

Beckett decided to try and talk the gun out of his hands. "Listen, buddy, you don't want to get hurt, do you? Or hurt anybody else? Why don't you put the gun down, and I'll put the gun down and we can talk..."

"NO!" The shooter refused to listen to anything rational. "Without pain...without sacrifice...we have nothing...Can't you see I was giving those people a *gift*?"

Okaay...Beckett was starting to realize that there would be no talking to this guy...at least, not without a little help. She reached out from the still active mind-link. Ryan, how fast can you get up here?

Be right there. Ryan scaled the building before Beckett could count to ten. What do you need?

Our friend here isn't thinking clearly, Beckett replied, I was thinking you might be able to help him in that department?

Shouldn't be a problem, replied Ryan. He held up his hands, turning on the charm and focusing his attention exclusively on the nervous man with the gun in front of him. "Hey. I'm Detective Ryan..."

"Y-you are j-just as much a part of the system as she is!" the shooter exclaimed.

It was all Ryan needed. I'm just going to give you this gun, Detective Ryan...

"I'm just going to give you this gun, Detective Ryan," the shooter repeated with a voice devoid of emotion.

Ryan took the gun from the man's limp hand without incident. I think I need to go sleep this off somewhere...

"I think I need to sleep this off somewhere," the other man repeated.

Maybe you should put me in handcuffs so I don't hurt myself...

The shooter held his arms out in front of him. "Maybe you should put me in handcuffs so I don't hurt myself."

Ryan secured the cuffs around the shooter's wrists as he slowly withdrew the connection. The shooter shook his head as if coming out of a stupor, then screamed when he realized his gun was gone and his hands were now immobile. "How the hell...you tricked me! I don't know how, but you tricked me!"

Beckett sighed as she pushed their suspect toward the roof exit door. Ryan, just once I wish you would keep the guy on his leash 'til we got him into holding...

"I am one of the strongest, smartest men who ever lived! I'll be stalking elk through the damp canyon forests of Rockefeller Center long after all of you are dead. Dead, you hear me! DEAD!"

From the observation room, Esposito let out a low whistle as he watched the deranged man they had handcuffed to a chair in the box. "Interesting guy you got there, Beckett."

"Yeah, well our friend there injured two people while trying to take out me and your girlfriend, let's not forget that," commented Beckett.

Esposito ground his teeth so hard it was starting to sound a little like popping popcorn. "Oh believe me, I know."

"I just hope we can get something out of his delusional ramblings..." Beckett mused.

Esposito had to keep from staring at his boss, as surprised as he was by that statement. "They're not ramblings. He's quoting 'Fight Club'."

"'Fight Club'?" asked Beckett.

Now Esposito had to turn to face his boss with his confusion. "Yeah. Everything he's said since you cuffed him to that chair has been either a direct quote or a paraphrase of something in the movie. You mean you've never seen it?"

"Never seen it," said Beckett.

Esposito pushed harder, totally stuck in disbelief. "The movie with Brad Pitt and Edward Norton? You've *never* seen it?" When Beckett shook her head again, Esposito turned his gaze back on their suspect, mouthing 'wow' in amazement. It was then, when watching the rambling madman in the box, that an idea came to him. "I think I might know how to get information out of our guy."

The idea that they would be able to get any information out of their suspect at *all* was a surprise to the senior detective. "Really? You think you can find out if he knows Mittleman?"

Beckett's cell phone rang, and she interrupted their conversation to answer it. When she finished, she turned her attention back to Esposito. "That was Lanie. The hair is a perfect match to Mittleman's, which makes him our prime suspect in Alex Masterson's murder. You're sure you can get information out of this guy?" Esposito nodded. "How...unconventional are your methods going to be?"

Esposito winced. "Gates just might suspend me again afterwards?"

"You're not going to break any laws, are you?"

Esposito shook his head. "I will be encouraging him to break one, though."

"Which is...?"

"Assaulting a police officer."

Beckett's eyes widened. "In a police station?" Esposito nodded. "What do you need from me?"

"Take the cuffs off of our friend in there, and take the table and chairs out so they don't get broken. Two witnesses in here, preferably guys who have seen the movie. And Ryan standing guard outside."

Beckett pinched the bridge of her nose, trying and failing to stave off the rapidly approaching headache. "I'm *sure* this is a bad idea, but I can't think of any other options. All right, I'll set it up."

Esposito closed the door quietly, trying to make it look like he was sneaking in to the room. The shooter was leaning against the back wall of the box, knees drawn up against his chest. The detective sat down next to the shooter, trying to make his voice sound as casual as he could. "Hey man, how's it going?"

The shooter looked at Esposito like he was mentally ill. "Man, why the hell should I tell you?"

"Because I admire you, man," Esposito said with a chuckle. "That woman who brought you in here? She's my boss. I heard you took a shot at her?"

"Yeah, what's it to you?"

Now it was Esposito's turn to stare at the shooter like he was crazy. "Do you know how many times I've wanted to do that? I owe you a beer, man."

The shooter returned Esposito's chuckle. "You don't even know me, man."

"Oh, like you know me?" Esposito countered. He reached out a hand in greeting. "Javier Esposito."

The shooter returned his handshake. "Doug Wilkinson."

"Nice to meetcha," Esposito finalized the greeting. He then scooted closer to Wilkinson, leaning in for a conspiratorial moment of 'privacy'. "Hey man, can I ask you a question?" When Wilkinson nodded, Esposito lied smoothly, "What's it like to pull the trigger?"

Wilkinson stared at Esposito, confused. "You mean you don't know?"

"I mean don't get me wrong, I shoot at targets all the time. I have to, for the job," Esposito replied. "But what's it like to have someone on the other side of your scope?"

Wilkinson stared off into space, relishing the retelling of the moment. "It's a complete rush. You know how when you get in a fight, and that first punch lands on your jaw..."

"Wouldn't know," Esposito interrupted him, "Never been in a real fight."

"Oh no way!" exclaimed Wilkinson. "Seriously?"

This was the moment Esposito was working toward; the chance to gain Wilkinson's trust and get him to slip up. But in order to do that..."Never did more than spar in a gym, man. Totally controlled environment."

While Wilkinson seemed to have no doubt of Esposito's sincerity, he was mostly taken aback by the total destruction of his preconceptions about cops. "Seriously, man? You're a cop, and you've never been in a real fight?"

"You'd be surprised how much of the job is paperwork," Esposito assured him.

Esposito seemed to be gaining more and more of Wilkinson's trust with every exchange in their conversation. Wilkinson looked around the room, presumably to see if he was being watched, then pushed himself to his feet. "Get up, Javier."

"What's up, Doug?" asked Esposito as he stood, feigning confusion.

"I want you to hit me as hard as you can," Wilkinson told him.

Esposito let his eyes widen as if he were completely shocked. "Are you out of your mind? In a police station? I would lose my job in a heartbeat."

"Then can I hit you? So you can see what it's like?" asked Wilkinson.

As soon as Esposito nodded, Wilkinson hit him with a solid right hook that the detective allowed to spin him to the floor. Esposito stood up slowly, faking a moment of realization. "Wow..." he commented, "that was...intense."

"You want another one?" asked Wilkinson. "You gotta hit me back if you agree, though."

Wilkinson slugged the detective as soon as he nodded, getting Esposito squarely in the nose. Esposito countered with a clumsy right hook of his own, carefully placing it so it hit Wilkinson between his ear and his neck. Wilkinson smiled as he took the punch, coming back with a precise uppercut. They traded similar blows and kicks for several minutes until Wilkinson was bloodied and breathing heavily.

Esposito mimicked Wilkinson's physical exhaustion even though he wasn't feeling it. "Wow..." he exclaimed in mock amazement, "you're a hell of a fighter, bro."

Wilkinson blew off the compliment. "That's nothing, Javier. You should see some of the other guys."

"What guys?" asked Esposito innocently.

Wilkinson repeated his previous motions of checking to see if he was being watched. Seemingly satisfied with his security, Wilkinson admitted, "I'm not supposed to talk about this, but I'm part of this fight club down in Brooklyn. We get together and fight almost every night. It's fantastic."

"Really?" asked Esposito, showing the most genuine interest he had had during the entire conversation. "I'd love to try that. Where do they meet?"

"This abandoned warehouse in Bed-Stuy. It's on the corner of Nostrand and Atlantic, a couple blocks away from the subway. Tell 'em Doug E Smooth sent you."

Time to go in for the kill, thought Esposito. "Doug E Smooth, huh? You wouldn't happen to know a kid named Mad Dog, would you?"

"Actually, yeah. He's a regular," replied Wilkinson without thinking. "He's the reason I went after your boss. I heard she shot him the other night. Can't have some weak little girl cop going after one of my bros."

"No, we can't have that," muttered Esposito under his breath. He composed himself quickly, though, and held out his hand for Wilkinson to shake. "Listen, man, I gotta go get cleaned up. This is going to be hard enough to explain already..."

Wilkinson shook Esposito's hand, smiling warmly with the teeth he had left. "Hey, no problem. Listen, you're not going to get in trouble for this, are ya?"

Esposito shook his head. "As far as I'm concerned, you hit me because I asked for it." Adding a chuckle, he continued, "In this case, literally."

"Same here, man, same here," agreed Wilkinson.

"Then we don't have a problem," declared Esposito before he left the room. "Thanks again."

Esposito met his partner and Beckett at the door outside the box. "Okay, can someone tell me what the hell just went on in there?" asked an incensed Detective Ryan.

"Making sure our evidence trails line up," Esposito replied through clenched teeth. "So did we get everything we needed?"

"I'd like to know that as well, Detectives," piped up an authoritative voice behind them, "especially since you did not look to be in nearly that much pain when you walked in here this morning, Detective Esposito. Now will someone tell me what the hell is going on here and if the 'other guy' is getting ready to file a lawsuit?!"

"Sir, when we brought Wilkinson in he was completely uncooperative, mostly spouting quotes from the movie 'Fight Club'," Beckett explained.

Gates asked, "And what was this Wilkinson brought in for?"

"He shot up a restaurant where I was having lunch with Dr. Parrish of the Medical Examiner's office, sir," replied Beckett. "Two people were injured."

"So did Mr. Wilkinson confess to this shooting?" asked Gates.

Esposito nodded. "After I gained his trust, he told me that he shot at Detective Beckett in retaliation for when Beckett shot at Irving Mittelman."

"The prime suspect in the Masterson murder?" asked Gates, looking to connect everything together.

Beckett nodded. "We suspected that Mittleman was part of an underground fight club in Brooklyn. So when Wilkinson came in spouting Fight Club dialog we took a chance that there might be a connection."

"And is there?" asked Gates.

Esposito nodded as best he could. "Mittleman's a regular, which means that if we go there tonight we should be able to pick him up. Wilkinson walked me through how to get in."

"So everything that happened between the two of you in there," asked Gates skeptically, "it was all...consentual?"

Beckett nodded. "And we have two witness and camera footage who will verify Wilkinson's consent if he tries to change his story after the fact."

Gates considered everything she heard carefully, finally giving the slightest smile of satisfaction. "Nice work, detectives. Although, Detective Esposito, shouldn't a doctor be checking you out? Some of those injuries look quite...uncomfortable."

"I'm on my way to a doctor now, Sir," agreed Esposito, trying to ignore the cues his body was starting to give him. "I should be fine to go after Mittleman tonight, though. It's not nearly as bad as it looks."

Gates looked Esposito over, extremely skeptical of his downplaying of his injuries. Still, if he's on the way to his doctor...The captain turned and headed to her office, telling the group, "Let me know when you've got him, detectives."

"Yes, sir," responded the trio in unison.

When they were sure that Gates was out of earshot, Ryan asked his partner, "Can I be safe in assuming that the doctor you're on your way to is in the Medical Examiner's office?"

Esposito nodded. "The sooner the better, bro."

Ryan walked with his partner toward the elevator, letting out a small chuckle in response. "Okay man, but *I'll* do the driving..."