It's been forever, I know.

But time has been running away and before I knew it I've been living in Edinburgh for about five months. Not sure how that happened.

Anyway, the followers for Firefly have been continuously growing, slowly but steady and I've felt somewhat guilty for not getting myself in front of the computer.
But then today I woke up with some rare inspiration and the next part of chapter 13 happened.

I hope you all are doing well and that you'll enjoy the second part of chapter 13.

This have not been beta read, so there might be spelling and grammar errors, as well as stuff that only makes sense in my head. If you find anything like that, please let me know.

Warnings for this chapter is mentioning and descriptions of abuse.

Lots of love,

"Be careful kid." Eds firm voice is the last thing I hear before the line goes dead and I force myself to take a deep breath.

Figures I'm the hostage in my first hostage negotiation.

Wordy has to force himself not to run as he makes his way back to the team, it had been stupid, careless, to let the rookie walk in first. But the report had said domestic violence. Abusive husbands usually though they could talk their way out of it, especially if the cop finding them was male. Abusive husbands did not hide in closets. No case is ever the same as the other, but this was fishy.

Fishy…that was a word he had never used before the kid showed up. Damnit.

"I'm sorry Boss, I should have been more careful."

"You thought sending a woman first would unsettle him, throw him of his game." Greg has his hand on his shoulder as the hurry towards the truck. "Normally it would have, but if you want to play the blaming game," Ed and Sam joins them just as Jules and Spike exit the truck. "It was too early to send her in on a search, that was careless and my decision."

"I've got the blueprints, there's no way to get a camera in there unnoticed." Spike is spreading the documents over the hood of the car, pointing out the study. "They are in here, the upstairs office. If we can get in this bathroom here, we might be able to get a mike in the ventilation, but the chance of actually hearing something is slim."

"Okay, keep looking. Wordy, have a talk with the wife. Ed, Sam I want you in that bathroom. Jules with me, do they have a phone in that office?"

The Team split up, hurrying in their respective directions with grim determination. When someone gets their hands on a cop things have a tendency to turn personal, getting your hands on a rookie is like kicking a puppy.

It makes people angry.

~The scars of others should teach us caution. – St. Jerome~

It's unnerving how fast you get used to things.

It's has only been about two months, but the sudden lack of voices informing, directing and assuring in my ear makes me feel alone and exposed in a way that is totally new. The fragile life-line of friendship and trust I've started to construct between myself and my colleagues, one thin thread at the time, have been taken away with the small earpiece. It feels like I've gone deaf.

I force another breath, no matter the situation panic will get you dead.

"See, no radio. Why don't you sit down and we can talk about this?" I make it a question, not a demand. Nice and easy does it, wins all the cake.

I'm no negotiator, I've never talked my way out of anything. Calculated violence is how I handle whatever life throws at me, be it sharp words or a fist to someone's face, the muscle while someone else can be the brain if you'd like.

The man, Erik, sits. Eyes trained on me and a white knuckled grip on the gun. He moves slowly, as if afraid a sudden move will make me attack him. As he settles against the pillows on the sofa he flinches, sitting straighter. I know pain when I see it.

"Are you alright Erik?" I see him halt, abruptly paler than before, as if I had figured out a dirty secret.

"I'm fine."

Bah! Tell it to the priest.

"You look like you are in pain, Erik." Fresh pain at that, the one that comes just after the adrenaline starts to die out. When the body realizes it's hurt. Personally, I think that's the worst kind.

He looks at me then, face carefully blank even as the fear seeps through, afraid I saw what others usually didn't.

"I…I went to the gym yesterday." He shrugs, a minute movement and I see the twitch of his fingers as he forces back the need to wince. "Overdid it with the weights." I settle back in the chair, making myself as comfortable as I can without restricting myself should I need to move. "Huh, yeah that happens too often doesn't it. What gym do you go to? "

I get a funny look, here I am, being held hostage and I'm asking which gym he goes to. I guess I'd be a bit confused were I in his shoes. "…The Jungle, down by the park." I grin. "I know that one, used to go there a lot before I became a cop, nice space, lovely saunas." I get another look, less confused, more angry. "Do you think I'm stupid? That's a men only gym, they wouldn't let a girl in."

Ah, yes. Guess I was a girl back then, almost seven years ago. At least I think it was seven. "As I said, before I became a cop. Used to go there after closing." I grin again, relaxed, the picture of friendliness. "The owner owed me. And I seriously doubt that you're stupid."

He looks less angry again, more suspicious, curious. "How could the owner owe you, you were like what, seventeen?"

"Something like that, give or take. Didn't pay that much attention to time and age back then, it was all the same to me. I could have been fifteen, I could have been twenty. I'm not sure, don't really care." I shrug. "As to why he owed me…let's say I hunted out some vermin. Less expensive the calling the pest control, yes?"

"Vermin?"

"Yeah."

"What are you?"

"…People usually ask who."

"Enough with the games!" He is standing again, anger for a second overshadowing the underlying fears before the pain hits him and he staggers. I move without thinking, hands grabbing his shoulders to steady him as he lowers himself back to the couch. He whimpers under my touch and I withdraw my hands as if he burnt me. Up close he is too pale, sweaty, eyes glassy. Fever, infection, I can almost smell it of him.

I slowly take a step back, hands once again raised as he raises my gun.

"Don't touch me!" The fear is back. But it's a fear of me, not the cop, but me, the woman.

"I'm your ticket out of the mess you've managed to get yourself in. Let me help Erik, you need a doctor."

And a lawyer…but one step at the time.

"Did you hit your wife cause you hate her? Is that it?" I see the fear rise higher and I hate myself a little bit more for it. "They were stitching her up in an ambulance when we arrived."

"I don't hate my wife." His voice is fragile, skin slowly turning a pasty green. My gun lies forgotten on the couch next to him, he is too terrified to even take his eyes of me.

"No, you fear her." A careful step brings me within reach and I kneel in front of him. "What is it you don't want her to hear? She called the cops, but you took me hostage for a reason and we are running out of time."

"I don't…I." His voice chokes in on itself. "She…"

I reach out and he makes a small sound at the back of his throat. Grown man scared to death of a girl that barely reaches his shoulder. I force my hand to be steady, eyes focused on the strange discoloring I can see at the edge of his shirt collar. I'm just hoping it's not what I think it is, for his sake. "Don't move, I won't hurt you."

My voice is low, calm. It has to be because this is a bit unorthodox, and if I'm wrong I'll probably be fired.

The first four buttons fall away before I've managed to gather enough courage to do what I had planned.

The black shirt give way to sickly pale skin and I stop. Scattered over that pale skin, from just over his collarbone down over shoulder, chest and further down disappearing under the cloth is burn marks. Some old enough to be nothing but pale scars, some so new, so fresh they haven't even started to heal. Clear liquid oozing from the circular wounds as the body tries to get them clean of the ashes clinging to the scarred skin.

I swallow, some of the older ones, maybe a week or so, are infected. Angry swollen red and sickening yellow, full of pus. The discolored skin around the sore edges spoke of infection and decay. Blood poisoning was the least of his worries.

Nausea claws at the back of my throat and I grit my teeth. I need to get him out of here, I need to get him to walk out of here. Now.

"I'm sorry. I know it hurts." He makes a strange noise, somewhere between a sob and a laugh and I flinch with it.

"How can you possibly know?" Another ragged breath. "How could you possible know how I feel."

Looks like we need to prove ourselves here.

I sigh. "You're right, I've no idea how you feel…emotionally." I slip out of my Kevlar, jacket and black t-shirt following. I admit that stripping in front of a subject might in hindsight not be one of my best ideas, but I needed to prove appoint. "But I know your pain."

Hastily turning my back I spare us both some of the awkwardness of me being in only a bra. The initial protests quickly died, the sudden silence made me glad there were no camera in the room. There's a reason I only shower or completely change at work if Jules have left or is already in the shower. I can feel him take in the scars littering my skin, the intake of breath tells me he had zoned in on one collection in particular.

Nine circular scars positioned in a straight line along my spine.

"God…what," the voice is quiet, struggling against tears and horror. "Who did this to you?"

God had nothing to do with it, I can tell you that much.

I shrug, reaching for my jacket without bothering with the t-shirt, buttoning up as I turn to face the now very sick looking subject. But there's a change in his eyes, a knowing bordering respect. "I was young and cocky, picked a fight with the wrong guy, lost…" I swallow the memory, making my voice detached but keeping my eyes as sincere as I can stand. "And his friends held me down while he had a victory smoke." A laugh makes its way from my throat and it's not a nice sound.

"Well, nine, but the thing is Erik, marrying someone you love is not picking the wrong fight. And if that someone, who has sworn to love and protect makes it a fight, then no matter how hard, no matter how terrifying or heartbreaking, just leave."

He meets my eye then, scared but defiant. Maybe there's still hope for him. "It's not that simple."

"I know, but right now, in this moment, you've taken a SRU office hostage and you have to make it that simple." I pick at his shirt, carefully arranging the cloth back over the raw wounds. "Walk out with me, these wound will scar, but they'll heal. My team out there will help you, I'll help you." I meet those terrified eyes, clamping down at the rage now building under the surface. "She'll never touch you again."

"But she's out there, everyone thinks I hurt her."

"Hey, look at me. Until we can get you out of here I'm your personal shield. And I throw around people like your wife for warm-up."

I can see the beginning of a smile at the edges of his lips and I grin back. He looks younger when he smiles, and I realize with a bit of a start that Mr. Green only have a couple of years on me. It won't be easy, but Erik Green will be just fine. "What kind of life have you lived?"

My grin widens. "You know what, after all this legal bullshit that is sure to follow, we'll go take a drink and I'll tell you parts of it."

"Only some of it?"

I snort. "You don' wanna know all of it." He looks innocent then and I have to resist the urge to pat his head. "Promise?"

"Promise, so what do you say, ready to meet the sane part of the team?"

"You'll stay with me?"

"All the way." He swallows, standing slowly and managing to look small and helpless even as he somewhat towers over me. "Okay."

Since I was listening for it I hear the slight rustling of clothes outside the office door, I bend down to swipe up my radio and I hurry over to carefully rap at the wood. The earpiece is back and I feel like laughing in relief at the familiar static.

"Ed?" The movement on the other side stops, the silence stretches for a second and I can almost feel the rest of the team stand at attention to the sound of my voice. "We're here, you good?"

"I'm good, we're good. We're coming out now, so if you don't mind calling of the cavalry?"

"Okay." Parkers voice sounds almost as relived as I feel. "But Sam will accompany you…need anything?" Always head in the game, my boss. "Yeah, if we could have an EMP ready and Mrs. Green far away when we get out that'd be great."

"Why the wife?"

"Is she smoking right now?"

"Yes, why?"

I ignore the flash of anger, a feat I would not have been able to do just a year ago.

"Take them from her, and make sure she's gone when we get out." There's no more questions and I turn back to Erik. "One from the team will be outside the door when we go out, okay?" "…Okay." I place a gentle hand on his arm, guiding him to the door. Sam is standing there, tense and ready to act and I grin at him.

"Erik, this is Officer Braddock. Don't worry, he's not as dangerous as he looks." Sam snorts, relaxing and carefully moving aside to let us pass. "Don't listen to her, she's more dangerous than she looks." I laugh and nod at Erik when he halts at the front door. "It'll be fine, I'll scare anything that might come at you." He gives me a shaky smile and slowly steps out on the porch.

Sam huffs, a grin playing over his lips and ruining the stern look. "Do you ever play by the book?" We stepped out in the late afternoon, sun warming and gentle.

"Don't be mean Braddock, you know I can't read."

~ If you are going through hell, keep going. ~