2. The mighty Sun Bear

I could tell since the very first moment our eyes met; Linda Hargraves was a woman in whose vocabulary the word 'no' simply didn't exist. Dinner would be fun, then. I also wasn't surprised of she continuing the conversation as we waited for a waiter to approach our table.

"Wow..." She drawled the word with a tiny hint of irony, exchanging her coy smile for a small grin. I kept my chin high, refusing to raise an eyebrow at the implications she just pointed at. As I suspected, she did so herself. "I suppose the Vampire was an easy prey looking like that."

Indeed, straight to the open wound while testing the waters. My quick analysis of the journalist was concise. A woman who used all of her weapons; arrogant, for she was used to be the one in control, achieving what she wanted, and who would undoubtedly use my words as she pleased to get the story that would earn her more readers and fame... Great.

"Do you mind if I use the tape recorder?" She continued, already fishing the device out of her expensive, brand-name purse. I hope I didn't appear so pompous with my few own dessigner clothes.

"Be my guest." I answered. "I must admit, though, I'm intrigued by how would you have dinned while writing down my answers." I couldn't help but add with a little grin, the sarcasm queen within me already demanding to put this woman in her place. And we hadn't even ordered yet. Damn Loeb...

Linda Hargraves' smirk only grew bigger upon noticing my first impressions of her weren't exactly good. At perfect timing, a waiter approached us and we both told him our dishes. Following her own advice, the journalist asked for the foie and ravioli while I settled for kobe beef and a salad. We handed our menus, keeping silent as the sommelier filled our cups. Once we were alone again, she pressed a small button on the recorder. "September, 7th. Time 21:13. Linda Hargraves interviewing officer Parker —under a pseudonym—, the mastermind behind the arrest of the serial rapist Gotham has come to know as 'The Vampire'."

And that was my cue to interfere. "I wasn't a mastermind, the arrest of the Vampire was a joint police operation in which two GPD units participated along with the SWATs. The teamwork was the key to success." I argued, making my voice sound calm as ever, as if I was explaining something to a child. I hated to admit it but the journalist's sweet fake smile was getting into my nerves.

"Of course," Her voice had turned just as honeyed as her features. "But it is undeniable that your qualifications played a decisive role in the operation." She took out a sheet of paper from within her purse, then read out loud for the tape recorder to register it. "A major in criminal psychology, alongside a masters degree in criminal law," She placed the paper piece down, gazing back at me. "Is something worth bragging about, don't you think? Especially having in mind the current state of the security forces." There were again, those annoying innuendos.

I took a deep breath, not changing my facial expression. "Well yes, it's true I have a good qualification; by the way, I hope you recall said qualification must not be specified, miss Hargraves. Anyway, the rapist's profile certainly was not the only lead the GPD had. Its historical notoriety may precede it, but I assure you the police department has never been more compromised with the citizens." The diplomatic words sounded lame and unpersonal even to me, but orders were orders. "We, the cops, are aware that we must earn again the citizens' trust, and certainly we cannot —and don't— blame them for our mistakes. But, little by little, we will amend those too."

Hargraves made a fake pout while a waiter placed our first dishes on the table. We thanked him at the same time and he flashed us a polite smile before carrying on with his serving duties. "How inspiring of you, officer." She began to delicatedly gather the foie on her spoon as I added oil and salt to my salad. "As promising as that speech sounded, it's given me an idea." I began to mix the lettuce, cherry tomatoes and other foodstuff pilled within the bowl. "Why not tell us how did you get into the GPD? I'm sure the readers would love to know, I bet it must have been quite... interesting." I looked up as I stopped moving.

"My life is anything but interesting, and the application process was just the ordinary for any other person. Psychotechnical, personal interview and physical tryouts. See?" I smiled innocently before concluding, "Boring."

She swallowed a spoonfull of her meal, then answered me. "Certainly, although I was hoping for something more explicit." She left the spoon on the plate for a moment. "Think about it; wouldn't you like to know the most juicy details of your hero's life?" She asked rhetorically.

Not helping myself, I answered anyway. "A magician never reveals his tricks, so why should any hero uncover his identity? Isn't that why us people see them as such? Because you can't discern the flaws and scars of the person behind the persona?" My own questions finally got a genuine expression on the journalist's pretty visage, which became slightly thoughtful as she merely observed me. No mockery, no judgement. It gave me the perfect chance to continue my speech. "I'd personally prefer to keep the mystery. More fun then, don't you agree?" I sighed, subtly stabbing my salad again. "In any case, I'm no heroine. Just... another cop doing her job properly." I ate my fork of salad.

She kept silent for a few extra seconds, mulling over my words before her haughty mask returned to her features."If that's the case, I'm sure that sharing your own story may bring the citizens closer to the police force, seeing past the badges, guns, corruption and uniforms. Isn't that the road to empathy?"

"Not when there's a previous arrangement that ensures a person's anonymity." Said I, pausing my dinner to stare right into her eyes. It was the second time I gave her a warning.

"Fine then," She obliged after a tense moment. "How about your motivations? Did you always wish to become a cop? An unfulfilled heroine complex perhaps?"

I refrained myself from sighing in exasperation. I had to admit, the woman's persistence was a common trait we shared. I considered the questions, finally settling on answering them in a vague way and ignoring her ironic jabs. "When I was little the idea lingered on my mind from time to time, yes. When I grew up though, I didn't consider it again until I was in my early twenties. My main ambition was to understand the criminal minds." I told her truthfully.

"Sweet," Said Hargraves, faintly cocking her head to the side as she observed me once more. "Have you managed to?" It was my turn to smile sardonically, entirely pleased upon noticing the genuine curiosity in her voice.

"Hardly." For a split of second, she mirrored my smirk. Then she continued with the interview.

"What about your relatives, did your family play an important role in that decision?" We had both finished the first plates, so as they were taken away I fought the urge to narrow my eyes in suspicion. I sure as hell hoped she wasn't hinting at what I believed she was, for her own preservation.

"Not necessarily; I had their support, that was enough." I eventually answered. God, didn't she tire herself wearing that nerve-wracking grin all the time? I patiently waited for my meat as her ravioli were served.

"Let's re-focus on the Vampire's case, shall we?" She began to mix the sauce, already speaking. "How did you figure out the guy's profile?" She ate the first bite of her dish just as mine arrived.

"Observing." I held the knife in my left hand as I began to cut the first piece. "Serial criminals tend to have a defined pattern of action that is only altered under determinated circumstances, and seldomly so. In this case, the Vampire targeted the same type of victims and in similar places within the city." I chewed onto the Japanese meat, almost moaning in pleasure. I had been pretty hungry and the meat was exquisite. "Once the team realized as much, the MCU was able to plan the ambush."

"Ah, yes. Three female agents infiltrated as baits. Impressive..." The journalist mellowly drawled. "If I remember correctly, all of the victims raped were prostitutes, correct?"

I nodded, chewing another piece of beef. We both already were done with half of our respective meals. "Yes," I mouthed. "Their testimony and cooperation was extremely important." I took another sip of wine; now both of my glasses, that one and the one with water, were only filled to their middle.

"Do any of them have a connection with Carmine Falcone?" She bluntly asked. I almost coughed, not prepared for the question.

"Pardon?" Asked I as I left the cup on the table.

"Normally nobody would've trusted the judicial and police systems, that's no secret. Especially someone who is transgressing the law to pay their bills." Linda Hargraves moved her plate aside before placing her forearms on the table and leaning her upper body forward in anticipation. I now had completely caught her drift.

I gulped, leaving on my plate the last piece of meat to answer her. "In this concrete case, it's hardly relevant. The goal of the operation was catching a serial rapist, not Falcone."

"But isn't it scary to think that the success of the GPD was —possibly— founded just on the order of a single man?" Asked she, a sort of predator gleam in her blue gaze. So that was the story she had been looking for; the reason why all of this was setted up in the first place. "A criminal nonetheless, owning the city." She added.

You clever bitch... Guess it takes two of a kind to know each other. I had to wonder how much unofficial information Linda Hargraves had managed to collect in her hands. I'd have to be extra-careful with what I said or didn't say around her. It also made me question, how many contacts did she actually have within the GPD...? Anyway, back to the point. In all honesty, she had nailed it; two of the prostitutes had connections with Falcone. One girl was being considered to form part of one of the various prostitution rings' he controls whereas the other already was part of them. The MCU didn't have any vital clues regarding the matter, though. But, yes, it was quite possible that the real king of crime in Gotham had pulled a string or two before his business truly were threatened, or one of his victims had enough and sided with the GPD. However, since that was classified information and I didn't like this woman, I responded instead. "As we estabilished before, it's no secret that the mafia's presence is palpable in the city, but the GPD isn't giving up. Days ago we caught a serial rapist; our interest will always be with the citizen, not the mob." I leaned back in my chair as our table was cleared, "The crime rate has decreased, slowly and in a scant amount, indeed, but there's a difference. It takes an awfully long time to amend all of the errors and oversights we all have committed through the years, but it's not impossible."

Linda Hargraves leaned back on her own chair as she accepted the desserts list with a flirty smile for the young, handsome waiter. I simply smiled and thanked him, immensely pleased to see he did return my smile. Ha, another small victory for me.

"My, aren't you the optimistic type." The journalist wryly commented, looking unaffected by the subtle rejection. My thoughts were confirmed then, men were just another game for her.

"With my job, I have to be." I simply said, checking my watch. 21:47. Hopefully the interview will end soon.

"I'm convinced your mother would be proud." I froze, averting my eyes from the menu to look at the black-haired woman across from me, my jaw utterly tensed. Had she known my mother? As if she had read my mind, she told me. "She was quite admired at the offices, a great journalist. Pity she died so young." She left her menu on the table, for the first time wearing a poker face that imitated my own. "You know, I learnt a lot from her, I would've liked to assist to the funeral."

I set the menu down too, glaring at her as I placed my hands on my lap, curling them into angry fists. That had been beyond gratuitous. "This wasn't part of the deal. You can't talk about my personal life, much less of her." I icely told her. That topic still was too fresh for me, and saying it made me defensive was an understatement.

"It won't be included in the article, I assure you."

I exhaled tautly. "Good. Then, why bring it up?"

Linda Hargraves paused as we told the waiter our desserts choice, then turned back to me. "I'd like to express my condolences. I wish she had been my partner, or my internship instructor." Said she, and I contained myself from snorting. My mother at least could have taught her some professional ethics. "I wasn't sure of what was I expecting your reaction to be, officer, but I see the memories are still fresh in your teary eyes."

My knuckles surely must be white by now. Mentally, I kept repeating the mantra "do not puch her". "Have you finished the interview?" She grinned again, wordlessly reaching for the tape recorder and pressing the 'stop' button.

"I think I got enough material." I wouldn't have answered her even if our dishes hadn't arrived, at perfect timing. We ate the rest of the dinner in silence, only broken by the waitress who brought up the check. I payed my part with cash, she hers with a debit card. We stood up, putting on our coats before striding to the exit side by side. Once there, I was the first to face her, she following me. "A pleasure, miss Porter." She extended her hand. "I have the feeling we'll see each other again." Said she, smiling as I politely shook her hand, also being the first to let go of the hold.

"Who knows." I answered, faking a smile. "Have a good night." She nodded.

"Likewise." She walked to her car while I went down the street, expertly navigating myself through the familiar urbanscape until I reached a cab that took me home.

I could only wait until the next Wednesday to see in which way that woman would twist my words... I so do deserve a raise...

The next day I was told my promotion would be made official in three days time, five days before Linda Hargrave's article was published for the Gotham Times.

I pushed aside any thoughts concerning the journalist as I walked into the room which Gordon had called for a meeting. Seeing Reed standing off to one side while blowing into the pipping hot coffee he had got from the machine in the corridor, I made my way over to him. Mentally, I counted. Including the two of us, four more agents summounded by the Sergeant. It felt both, surreal and delightful, that the MCU had been created less than a year ago, yet it was becoming one of the most effective within the police department. Reed finished his first tentative sip of the coffee just as he met my gaze. He checked my casual outfit before grinning good-naturedly. "Well, well, congratulations!"

I smiled. "As much as I hate to admit it, you were right." He chuckled, lazily resting his arm over my shoulders.

"When am I not?" He briefly glanced at his other hand, then lift it up while looking at me. "Coffee?" He teased, making me lightly elbow him in his ribs. The horrid liquid almost fell from the plastic glass. "Oi, that cost me 1.8 bucks!" He protested, deliberatedly exagerating his annoyance.

I rolled my eyes; he was such a drama queen when he wanted. "I would've made you a favor. That thing is disgusting."

He smirked. "Yeah, so? It's my disgusting thing to drink, not yours." As if to prove his point, Reed took another longer sip of the coffee. No matter how much I enjoyed the smell of it, I just couldn't stand its bitter flavor, so to express my disapproval, I made a face. Head on, Reed answered back with a satisfied grin before checking me out once more; his right arm still was on my shoulders. "The lack of uniform suits you, detective."

I almost rolled my eyes. "Will you stop emphasizing the words?" I asked, not helping myself as I retorted his grin.

He chuckled before saying, "Sure." Annoying, childish git... Hell, I couldn't have asked for a better partner. Excepting Sergeant Gordon; not that I'd ever told Reed this. Speaking of the devil, Reed and I untangled ourselves from the other as our boss walked through the door, positioning himself at the front while we hurried to take a seat.

"Good morning everyone," Gordon said, clutching some papers in his ringed, left hand. "As most of you already know, I called you to fill you in about the MCU's newest operation." He handed Reed, who was sitting at the end of the row and on my left, the set of papers. "Take two and pass them, please." So he did. The redhead handed me the printed folios, right afterwards avidly reading what was written on them. I copied him as Gordon wrote something on the whiteboard.

The paper was a summary of the operation against Carmine Falcone, head of the family; the unfazed gaze of the crime lord stared back at me as I studied his colored, 2D face. He was no stranger to any of the cops gathered in the room, including myself, so his appearance of a normal, rich citizen was all too familiar. Aside from the data concerning Falcone, his underboss and his main known liutenant, the file specified the most recent activities of the mob. These regarded nearly exclusively the drug dealing, Falcone's principal source of revenue and power for his empire; the extortion business has gained some popularity as well. Gordon faintly cleared his throat, successfully focusing our attention back on him. In the whiteboar at his back he had placed pictures; the Roman was at the upper left corner of the board, below him Salvatore Maroni, his more than likely next in line. At the opposite side of the board the Roman's liutenant's thug face glared back at us and, below him, a big question mark drawn within the shilouette of an unkown person. Each picture had the name of the person written below; on the centre of the board, the Sergeant had drawn a timeline.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen, that file you have there is the data we will set off from." The Sergeant adressed us, putting the marker's cap back on it. "It's vox populi among the department that since six months ago Falcone has been using the docks to smuggle into the city his new drug cargos. Question is, is that drug the same kind he always has been placing on the market?" He took the cap off, then turned around and drew an arrow from near the beginning of the timeline; below it, he wrote "Expansion business; 2nd February." He faced us again as the six of us began to take notes. Most of us knew about the matter, but it was better to write the data down, just in case. Gordon continued filling us in. "One of our fellow agents, undercover, confirmed us that the pattern for smuggling this cargos was far more guarded than the usual. According to his report, he recognized four GPD cops patroling the place along Falcone's henchmen. Speaking of which, that leads me to another interesting question." Gordon repeated the procedure, writing above the new arrow "A. Asylum; 14th, 24th April." Our boss elaborated, his blue gaze hardened, acquiring the professional aura he always got while working. "Since this dates," He jabbed a finger to emphasis, "Every single one of the Roman's most relevant thugs and henchmen arrested has been declared officially insane with any kind of long term psychosis and, consequently, hospitalized at Arkham Asylum." Gordon pushed his glasses a little up the bridge of his nose. "I sincerely hope none of you has the belief that these are coincidences." He added flippantly as a couple of cops snorted in agreement.

The other policewoman's hand that was in the room aside from me shot up in the air, her black hair falling at her back from the movement. Gordon nodded as he adressed her. "Agent González?" Her hazel eyes had a determined gleam on them; I remembered her from another joint operation in which we had worked together. Her name was María, around my age, immigrant parents. She hadn't had it easy; a reserved woman, genuinely nice if she deemed you trustworthy, very professional and with a hunger for justice, result of her own experiences. I liked her; Gordon surely had sifted us well.

María lowered her hand, her Hispanic accent faintly noticeable just if one truly looked for it. "I talked with the D.A's assistant, sir, and she didn't miss the link either. I'm sure that we can count with her absolute cooperation if we manage to gather enough evidence and hand it to her." The pretty agent told us determinedly. "Of course, we would need the assistance of an impartial judge who doesn't have the balls as necktie too." I chuckled, along with the rest of my colleagues. I could tell, Gordon was also fighting to keep a grin from his face.

"Indeed, but it's good to know we already have an ally within the judicial system." Said he while nodding.

I spoke up without bothering to raise my hand, eager to begin this operation. "I know a couple of people within the Asylum, the may lend us a hand on the matter as well, sir." Gordon gazed at me while nodding.

"Very good. Now," for the third time, he turned around and drew three more arrows on the whiteboard. "This is what we must find out before collecting any evidence." He stepped aside for us to see what he had written. "Type", "Where" and "Supplier"; from that one, another arrow shot out towards the question mark person. Again, Gordon pushed his glasses up his nose, out of habit. "I have trusted you six only, no one else within the department or even the MCU. This means, absolutely everything you find out about the case must only be first shared between you six and me, no exceptions." He solemnly said, making some of us nod in agreement. "Obviously, I will keep Comissioner Loeb and any other authority figure above us informed, but I'd rather you consulted with me every autonomus decision or iniciative, please." His blue eyes got a subtle sad gleam. "Sadly, we cannot trust even our own colleagues if we want this to success." Again, all of us nodded. The Sergeant pointed at the two papers he had laid on the desk at his right. "You can keep this if you want, there you have written all of the things that have been said in this meeting." He lightly clapped his hands before rubbing them. "Well, that's all for now. Thank you everyone, off you go. Oh, and," he kindly smiled in encouragement. "Good luck."

After that long day of work, I found myself striding impatiently through the station's parking towards my car. I so wanted to arrive home. Reed had left a little earlier than me; as I turned the wheel while making my way over the night traffic jam, my singing was interrupted by my phone. I briefly glanced at the screen, my hands tensing a little upon reading of who the incomer's call was. Not helping myself, I waited a second before heaving a sigh and accepting the call. "Hi Dad."

"Emi! I've been trying to talk with you for the past month, not to mention the last week! How are you?" Thomas Porter's voice sounded so concerned and worried, echoing all over my car, that guilt actually blossomed in my chest.

"I'm sorry, I've been busy with work and didn't realize." I replied, which was partially true. "I'm fine as well, in all senses."

His own sigh sounded through the hands-free device. "Well, I'm very glad to hear so. By the way, congratulations on your promotion, honey!" He added, and I almost rolled my eyes.

"Thanks," I was just ten minutes away from my apartment. "Did you deduce it from the news' article or the mayor directly told you in one of your golf matches?" I mentally scolded myself for the sarcasm. I really needed to get over my father's past infidelity.

He chuckled, unfazed. "Both." I almost smirked. "Anyway, there's something else I have to tell you honey."

I clicked the garage's remote, then drove into it as the doors slid to the side. "What is it?"

He kept silent for a moment, making me frown in both, worry and suspicion. Eventually, he said. "Could we have lunch together? I'm afraid I only have free the 13th afternoon, though. How does that sound?"

"Terrible. Plus, have you never heard 13 is the number of bad luck, Dad?" I thought to myself as I turned off the engine, my car now parked at my spot. I rubbed my eyes a little as I answered him. "Can't you just tell me now?"

Mentally, I could picture him shaking his head in denial. "No, I'd, rather tell you this in person, honey." I frowned again.

"You alright?"

"Yes, yes. I'm fine, and so is my health." He paused a brief moment before asking again. "So, afternoon the 13th?"

I glanced all over the front of my car, for I still was at the driver's seat holding onto the wheel. Finally, I let go of the cheek I had been bitting in contemplation before nodding to myself. "Alright. I believe I have a good break that day."

"Perfect, see you then, honey. Get some rest."

I inhaled. "Thanks, you too." My unenthusiastic voice lamely answered. Once the call was ended, I allowed my head to rest on the wheel before going to my house. What could he possibly want now?

At last, the dreaded September the 13th arrived. It was also my second day as an official GPD detective and, I must say, even if the difference hadn't been particularly noticeable so far, it felt great. As I washed the plate and glass I had used for my breakfast, my joy soon was spoiled once I remembered that Linda Hargraves' article was already printed in the newspaper's pages and, in addition, I would have lunch with my father. For the twentieth time, I cursed myself for not noticing sooner the day he had chosen coincided with the launch of my interview. It had taken me three days after our conversation before I realized as much. Well.

Nevermind, those were not my priorities; my job was. I had to take the morning shift today before I was free of evening duties. On the contray, I would spend my evening and most of the night working on Julius Caesar operation. Seriously, Reed would've probably made a fortune as a dramatist or movie director with that creative mind of his.

I had expected as much, truth to be told, nevermind I still felt quite annoyed for all of the stares and whispers I got the moment I set foot inside the station. Had every cop read the damn article? I glanced behind my shoulder at a group of four agents that were gossiping like grannies and watching my back. Immediately, they scurried out of my raised eyebrow and blue glare. Rolling my eyes, I continued towards my office. Seems like the answer was yes. The temptation of reading the interview myself to discover what was so interesting about it resurfaced, but I quickly erased it. Better if I pretended it has never happened; not to mention, I didn't want to be moody for my meeting with my father. I was about to achieve my goal when Reed walked into my office, the Gotham Times grasped in his left hand. I spared him a glance before continuing to sorting my paperwork and storing it in a folder. "What?" I calmly asked as I placed the folder inside my big purse.

I listened to his deliberated slow steps as they came to stop in front of my desk, making me meet his gaze. I narrowed my eyes upon noticing he was containing a smirk; I had come to know my partner as well as if I had been the one giving birth to him. He shrugged innocently, clasping his hands, and the newspapers, at his back. "Nothing." I stared deadpan, cocking my head to the side, mentally asking him "Really?" The subtle lift of his mouth's corner was enough answer.

"Sing, ginger. What did Hargraves write?" With a grin that now was anything but subtle, he handed me the paper. I inhaled deeply, preparing myself for any kind of atrocity and manipulation, right afterwards taking it.

The title read, "THE MIGHTY SUN BEAR." ... What? I exchanged a quizzicall gaze with Sam's amused one before continuing with the reading.

"Bears possess some of the most disagreeable personalities in the animal kingdom. While the Grizzly Bear immediately comes to mind as the most ferocious and dangerous bruin, it is actually a gentle giant compared to the true black sheep of the ursine rogue's gallery. Weighing just 65 kilograms and measuring 1.5 meters in length, the Asian Sun Bear is the world's smallest bear species, and the most ferocious, with the largest teeth in proportion to body size. This small beast is the most fierce bear on the planet, and will attack humans without provocation. A number of fatal maulings have occurred from an animal considered by some to be the most dangerousin the jungle.

Fortunately for me, though, I managed to scape from the claws of one with barely a scratch. Even though her height surpasses by far the 1.5 meters and her white teeth are perfectly proportional to her body, such description couldn't have fit better Gotham's new heroine, officer Parker of the GPD. Of course, this name is false so this lady cop's identity may remain protected. Upon my arrival I was the first to break the silence, her polite manners immediately lightening the atmosphere. Equally fiery and humble, these were the first words she said to me:

"I wasn't a mastermind, the arrest of the Vampire was a joint police operation in which two GPD units participated along with the SWATs. The teamwork was the key to success."

A woman who still believes in the camaraderie that used to be part of the idiosyncrasy of the old men of honor, it seems.

"Of course," Said I. "But it is undeniable that your qualifications played a decisive role in the operation."

Reluctantly, she admitted the undeniable truth. "Well yes, it's true I have a good qualification."

When asked about the current situation of Gotham and its historical crime rate, such optimism is not lost within officer Parker. "We, the cops, are aware that we must earn again the citizens' trust, and certainly we cannot —and don't— blame them for our mistakes. But, little by little, we will amend those too." When I pointed out said optimism, she merely stated. "With my job, I have to be."

Nevermind, whereas officer Parker's declarations concerning the police system's compromise with the citizens of Gotham became superfluous, my first impressions on how interesting this woman actually is gained back full convincement after quite a... philosophical chat. While getting to know each other, I had asked "Wouldn't you like to know the most juicy details of your hero's life?"

Her answer was. "A magician never reveals his tricks, so why should any hero uncover his identity?" Said she, finally embracing her seemingly upcoming title. "Isn't that why us people see them as such? Because you can't discern the flaws and scars of the person behind the persona?" And maybe that is the reason as to why such an insistence on keeping her identity a secret. Or is it because that may earn her more interviews? "I'd personally prefer to keep the mystery. More fun then, don't you agree?"

However, after these declarations, officer Parker took a step back concluding. "In any case, I'm no heroine."

How can a person keep the curiosity on check after that? I surely couldn't, hence officer Parker conceaded to indulge me with a little bit of information on her personal affairs. And, apparently, you don't need to have a long time ambition or a particular hunger for justice to become a cop and get the job done. It's not bad, however, to have either an unfullfilled heroine complex or a deeper desire, ulterior to sending scoundrels behind jail bars.

"When I was little the idea lingered on my mind from time to time, yes. When I grew up though, I didn't consider it again until I was in my early twenties. My main ambition was to understand the criminal minds."

"Have you managed to?" I asked her, and she smiled sardonically.

"Hardly." Was her simple yet sincere answer. Her humility was so touching that I couldn't help but wonder at the influence of her parents.

"What about your relatives, did your family play an important role in that decision?" I questioned her.

"Not necessarily; I had their support, that was enough." I guess it shouldn't be surprising that such a modest person wouldn't have any high expectations. Nevertheless, the ghost of her memories, still fresh in her teary eyes at the mention of her progenitors, made me wonder if, like any hero worthy, officer Parker's past was a tragic one. Perhaps in a future interview she may be able to find enough courage to tell the public about it.

Yet, we had to focus on the case that has made this woman anonimously famous. "How did you figure out the guy's profile?"

"Observing." Said she, simply enough. "Serial criminals tend to have a defined pattern of action that is only altered under determinated circumstances, and seldomly so. In this case, the Vampire targeted the same type of victims and in similar places within the city." She elaborated. "Once the team realized as much, the MCU was able to plan the ambush."

The interview was approaching its end, so I had to make the most of the time we had left. When I asked officer Parker about Carmine Falcone, head of the mob, she first stated."In this concrete case, it's hardly relevant. The goal of the operation was catching a serial rapist, not Falcone."

"But isn't it scary to think that the success of the GPD was —possibly— founded just on the order of a single man?" I questioned her after she hinted the possibility.

She answered me. "As we estabilished before, it's no secret that the mafia's presence is palpable in the city, but the GPD isn't giving up. Days ago we caught a serial rapist; our interest will always be with the citizen, not the mob. The crime rate has decreased, slowly and in a scant amount, indeed, but there's a difference. It takes an awfully long time to amend all of the errors and oversights we all have committed through the years, but it's not impossible."

With those encouraging words, we were forced to shake hands and part ways. Whereas I do consider officer Parker's beliefs in teamwork and her hopes of redemption very aspiring, the afore mentioned optimist of this lady cop is so intense that it touches naivety. Truly, it makes me want to hand her a lollypop. Yet, all of her declarations were true; Gotham's crime rate decreased a 1,2% according to the statistics in the last year. Is it true, then, that this city still stands a chance at redemption?

For our shake, let's hope so.

7th, Sep. Linda Hargraves."

Reed chuckled, "Sun bear, I couldn't have picked a better animal myself!" He told me in a fit of laughter after seeing me make a paper ball with the article. Meanwhile, I was plotting that viper's murder. My lower eyelid twitched in frustration before I remembered, I was supposed to have lunch with my father. I threw the ball towards the paper bin, scoring; then, I checked my watch. Goddammit, I would be late if I didn't leave now. Great... Could this day get any better? ...Please, notice the sarcasm.

"I guess you aren't pleased with Miss Hargraves' article, uh?" Was my father's line to greet me at the doors of the restaurant. So the scowl had yet to leave my face.

"Hi to you too." I said, making him softly chuckle good-naturedly as he pushed the door open for me. I stepped in, he following me before telling the waiter our shared surname. The man escorted us to a small table near the corner and far from the windows.

"It's not that bad, Emi." I rolled my eyes. How could this man make me act like a hormoned teenager so easily? Oh, right, because he is my father. He caught sight of my less than mollified face, which prompted him to explain. "Really, Linda Hargraves could have twisted your declarations far more had she wanted to. I dare say, she even likes you." I snorted, both of us sitting down.

"I highly doubt it." Said I, opening my menu. "Anyway, I'd rather not talk about that, I already am in a pissed mood." I closed the menu again, leaving it on my plate; I'd have the sea bass. I focused on my father's face again, who had been watching me. But, before I could ask him what was this mysterious thing he had to tell me, he was already speaking.

"How's work, honey?"

I heaved a sigh. "Busy, as always. For a cop, there will always be work to do in this city. At least in the short run." I pressed my lips together, surveying his visage before continuing. "I'm working on a new operation, that's why my identity has been particularly hidden in the interview." He frowned, visibly uncomfortable.

He wasn't stupid, I knew he had, or would deduce that it had to do with the mob. He observed me for a while in which the waiter took note of our dishes before walking away. "Dear Lord, your mother may have been right after all." He smiled softly.

I couldn't return the smile, no matter how much I wanted to. "In what?"

His smirk grew. "You'll end up being our death."

I grinned sadly, closing my eyes. I refused to shed a single tear. Once I'd calmed down, I opened my eyes again, colliding with my father's own brown ones. He looked apologetical and this time I did smile. "I just miss her." He nodded, half-smiling.

"I do too. Believe it or not, hon." Our dishes arrived, saving me from replying. After we were about half-done with our plates, I finally asked.

"So, what do you have to tell me?"

He loosened a little the knot of his tie before looking back at me. He gulped before speaking. "Hell..." He muttered to himself.

I tried to, but I couldn't find any memory in which I'd have ever seen him so uncomfortable. "Dad, just tell me." The words felt so weird coming from my mouth. It had been such a long time since I last called him 'Dad' so soothingly; nevertheless, it seemed to give him the courage he needed to elaborate.

After his tenth sigh of the afternoon, he said. "It's Georgine and I. We..." He hesitated, then finally spat it out. "She's expecting a child."

I froze, and it was as if I was seeing my own face falling from a third perspective. I then blinked before asking. "What?"

"She's three weeks pregnant." He grinned a little. "We still don't know the sex of the baby but, in any case, we'd like you to be the godmother."

I scoffed, holding my hands up. "Whoa, wait right there."

His happy faced torned serious as he interrupted me. "Emilee, I know this may be a shock, but we're quite thrilled with the news. And both of us want you to form part of it too, you're as much my daughter as is my unborn child." My father moistened his lips before continuing. "I'm aware that I've hurt you in the past, and I'm sorry for it too. But please, honey, your future baby brother or sister doesn't have anything to do with that."

I chuckled wryly, shaking my head. "This is unbelievable." The sight of the ring proudly displayed on his finger, identifying him as a married man, angered me further. "Mom died just two months ago! And now you tell me you're going to have a child with the woman you cheated on her. How the hell am I supposed to be happy with the news?" I asked, yet without raising my voice. We didn't need to make a scene. "What do you expect me to say? That I'm glad and I'll be there to support that woman?"

He ran a hand through his slightly greyish hair. "Do not talk about my wife like that Emilee, please. Whether you like it or not, we married a year ago and now she's become the mother of my second child." The truth hurt me more than I had expected; maybe it was due to the shock.

"You weren't so committed to your first marriage, you know." I threw back. Later that night, or maybe in a couple of days, I surely would regret those words but right now I couldn't care less. In an odd, childish way I felt abandoned.

His gaze hardened. "I won't tolerate that, Emilee. I loved your mother."

"Did you?" I interrupted him.

"Yes!" He snapped, suprising me. He usually didn't allow himself to lose composure. "I did love Alice, and a part of me will always love her and mourn her loss. But loving is not the same as falling in love, Emilee, and Georgine is the only woman I've ever fallen for." He had said it so firmly, with no trace of doubt, that I had to purse my lips to keep them from quivering. He pinched the bridge of his nose before glancing at me again. I kept my stony expression, my safety mask. "You're twenty-six now, honey, an adult. You don't need me as much as your unborn sibling does; I want you to be part of the family as well, but if you don't... Well, that is something you have to decide. I won't hold anything against you, but know that I'll always be your father. But do not ask me to choose, Emi." I noticed, my eyes were starting to water. So I got up, placed a 20 dollar bill on the table for my meal and walked out of the restaurant.

At midday, Hugh Morgan always found himself caught in paperwork, what provoked him mix feelings of attainment and tediousness. It meant he could make a difference in the life of a youngster, driving him or her away of the temptation drugs and the mafia presented. But it also meant he'd probably skip lunch. His secretary and his assistant had already left for their break, and he was certain he was the only person that remained in that floor, wrapped up in case files and trial reports. He had already taken his suit's jacket and tie off, attempting to keep heat at bait. The air conditioning had broken down four days ago, so the building was particularly heated, literally. It was another excuse to go out early, actually. Nevermind, he felt sweat forming in his armpits and neck, so he rolled up his light blue shirt's sleeves up to his elbows, revealing the well-toned muscles of his forearms and the tanned skin that gave away his half-blood legacy. Maybe in half an hour he would take his lunch break too, but for now, he was engrossed in a case.

He was about to finish with the charges when he heard hurried foootsteps echoing in the corridor; definitely, he was alone on the floor, save for the newcomer. Standing up, holding the piece of paper as he finish reading it, he walked over his desk, ready to greet the person coming. As prosecutor of minors, it was rarer to receive dead threats that actually were put into practice, so he wasn't particularly concerned. Besides, the revolver he kept on his left drawer made him feel quite safe. He was leaving the paper on the desk just as the door bursted open.

The welcoming line he had in mind soon vanished after recognizing the face of the recently promoted Emilee Porter. "Em, what-" She cut him off crashing her mouth against his. Out instict, he wrapped his strong arms around her waist, hoisting her up so her long legs could straddle his waist as he deepened the kiss. One of his hands went down to her firm butt, the other tangling itself in her blonde locks. He knew Emilee loved it when he played with her hair. Two years of relationship made him know every inch of her body perfectly. As their tongues fought for dominance and the detective's quick fingers found the buttons of his Armani shirt, he felt himself running out of air. He leaned his head back, gasping for air and opening his dark eyes just in time to see the blonde laying a few kisses on his chest and neck while pressing her hip against the buldge of his pants. Scooping her up, he turned around and sat her on the desk, faintly hoping that not many of the files found its way to the office floor. As the clothes ended up scattered everywhere, he silently thanked that the room had no windows aside from the ones that showed the corridor, and which currently were with the blinds down too. Pushing her body against his, he moaned, both of them synchronized. After they reached the climax, Morgan allowed his forehead to rest on the woman's shoulder just as she leaned her head against his too. Finally, they separated.

"Well, hello to you too." The prosecutor said, putting back in place his pants. "Weren't you worried of getting caught? Or not finding me here, for instances?" She rolled her eyes, already finished with her jeans and putting back on the black laced bra.

"C'mon Hugh, you hardly ever take a lunch break whereas most of the floor does." She put on the tank top and shirt, then combed her locks with her own fingers. "The rest of the people at the opposite side of the floor was enough busy not to notice us."

He tucked the shirt inside his pants, looking for the belt. "And if they have?" Emilee shrugged.

"Then we'll put on a stall next time. 30 bucks per shag; I know we'll make a fortune." He laughed, showing off his neon white teeth.

"Sounds like a plan." They faced each other. "You still taking the pills, aren't you?" Asked he, making the blonde nod. Not helping himself, Hugh moved his hand to stroke the detective's arm before leaning in and giving her a peck on the cheek. "What happened?"

She inhaled, giving the prosecutor's hand a squeeze. "Let me invite you to lunch and I'll tell you." Hugh Morgan chuckled, accepting her offer. Before they walked out of the office, hand in hand, he quickly gathered the few files that had fallen to the floor. Emilee patiently waited for him, biting her bottom lip in concentration, wondering if she had done right in coming here. Sometimes she wondered if breaking up with Hugh had made a difference at all in their relationship. She didn't mind it, though. Right now, this thing was what she both wanted and needed. Enough stability to help her through her struggles and enough freedom to be alone when needed, to truly clear her head. At the very moment, though, she needed Hugh's listening ear and wise advice. Not to mention, he was the last person she had to tell about her implications in the Julius Caesar operation.

After they were done with the McDonald's menus, Emilee told him about all of the events that had took place in the past week, starting from the Vampire's case, going through Linda Hargraves and her interview to end up in this afternoon. "I think the case affected you more than you first thought, Em. The Vampire's I mean." He had said, internally fighting to keep his palms open and his head clear. He already knew about the rapist case, and the knowledge that the guy had been so close to get her woke in him the urge to beat the bastard up to death. He forced himself to calm down, though; what mattered is that he hadn't. Emilee had said it herself, psychologically, she'd eventually have to face the sequels. And it seemed those already had come to the surface, for the woman she knew wouldn't have allowed her emotions to control her so much. She'd been acting irrationally against situations of emotional distress, he told her. The pretty blonde, after mulling over the matter, had nodded in agreement, promising him she'd look for help if she ended up not getting over it on her own.

"There's something else, Hugh." Said she, putting him in a wary mood. "I'm part of a new operation regarding the mob; I think you needed to know it." Even if in his insides he had freaked out upon knowing the danger Emilee was getting herself into, he made sure his face remained neutral, placing his hand on top of her smaller one in a poor attempt of support.

Goddammit, this woman would be the death of his.

N.A/: Well, it took me quite some time but finally it's done! I apologize for the delay, college life is quite demanding. I hope you enjoyed this chapter; thank you everyone who has read, followed, faved and reviewed! :)

By the way, I also apologize for all the grammar and spelling I surely have overlooked in my hurry to update. I'll fix them in the future.

Until next time,

~Se acerca el invierno