Chase was asleep, having lost the battle of staying awake while he waited for Marshall to call him back. He had passed out around the crack of dawn, only getting a single hour of sleep before morning arrived. The shepherd was slumped over his desk like he had been shot in the back, drooling on a scattered mess of papers and crime scene photos. He would've snored through the entire morning if someone hadn't knocked on his kennel door.

"Hnng!" He snapped awake in an instant, jerking his head up as papers flew in all directions. "Rocky! I'm not-" With his claws stuck into his desk, he looked around frantically and realized it was morning.

A voice came through the door. "Are you okay in there?"

"Marshall?" Chase turned his head, trying to slow his heartbeat.

"No, it's me." Said a very confused bulldog, stepping away from the door slightly. "You're about to miss breakfast, and that's like-" his voice shuddered. "Well I'd be devastated to miss such a thing."

Groaning to himself, Chase pushed himself up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Yeah… thanks Rubble. I'll be there in a moment." Once his heartbeat calmed down and the surprise faded, the gripping lull of exhaustion quickly returned. The shepherd's eyes were already starting to close by themselves, slowly filling him with quiet panic.

"Rubble on the double!" Chirped the construction dog, turning and walking off.

It was difficult suppressing his own agitation at his colleague, as only one of them was a morning dog and it certainly wasn't Chase. Grumbling as he swiped all the papers off his desk, a small compartment was exposed on the far end. Hating what was coming, Chase knew he couldn't lose any more battles if he was going to get somewhere.

"Screw this." The shepherd growled, fitting his claw under a small groove and opening a secret drawer. There was only one, small item rolling around within it: an orange bottle of caffeine pills. Just one of the tiny capsules would electrocute the body awake, spiking the heart and sharpening the mind in seconds. Any side effect listed on the bottle went unnoticed, his desperation forcing him to make harsher decisions. The ones meant for humans were stronger anyway, kicked him a lot harder than the ones made for dogs.

No matter how poisonous they were.

Forcing open the fractured cap, he held the bottle and shook out two pills into his mouth, swallowing them quickly. "Unng." He cringed, twisting his face at the revolting taste. The dog-designed ones at least tasted like chicken, but it seemed humans didn't care too much about flavored medicine in the grand scheme of things. "I'll sleep when this is all over," he said to himself.

The breakfast circle had already formed outside when Chase emerged from his kennel, his head delirious and vision unable to focus. Just like any other day, a circle of food bowls had been set out, and the PAW Patrol all joined together under the sunrise for a meal. Rubble was the first to see him walking up. "There he is!" He held out his paw warmly, while Skye and Marshall turned to greet the shepherd. "Morning Chase, how'd you sleep?"

Taking his place at the meal circle, Chase was noticeably fidgety and alert. "Fine, fine, fantastic really." He scratched the ground with his hind leg. "Morning Rubble, thank you for fucking banging on my door and waking me up." A deranged chuckle left him.

Marshall frowned as he chewed his food, looking toward Chase with a narrowed expression. Although Skye nor Rubble didn't notice the shepherd's elevated mood. "Hey, take it easy." Rubble stepped back, eyes widening slightly. "I just… didn't want you to miss breakfast."

"Right, right," Chase laughed off, before shoving his nose into the pile of dog food, messily eating it from the inside out. His legs twitched as he ate, ears flattened against his head and refusing to relax. With every bite he felt unease, nearly choking on a clump of beef and quickly coughing it out back into the bowl, only to suddenly eat it again mid-chew.

They ate in silence for a few minutes until Skye noticed how few of them there were, her voice turning in confusion. "Hey… aren't there five of us?"

"Six!" Chase corrected, his voice barking out of the food pile his muzzle was shoved in.

The avian dog rolled her eyes as she turned to the antsy police officer. "Oh please, that stray you have a suspicious amount of sympathy for isn't one of us." She said matter-of-factly. "Seriously, I don't get the weird amount of time you spend with him."

A growl vibrated out of Chase's bowl. "You watch what you say, Skye."

"Oh please, we all see it, Chase." She waved off. "Don't you see it too? Rocky's just… well he's just messed up. I was kinda willing to give him a chance a while back, but yeah something just broke in his head."

Marshall opened his mouth to say something, but glanced to the side and closed it, returning to his meal.

"I actually saw Rocky last night," Skye continued with an unsettled tone of voice. "Or at least, I think it was him. I couldn't really tell in the dark of the night, but I think he was creeping around the kennels."

Ears standing up on end, Chase stopped eating as he listened in. Marshall discreetly glanced up, tuning his ears in her direction.

"I'm telling you, Rocky was messed up from the beginning." The avian dog pressed. "I don't know what he was doing, stalking around like that, but it has me on end."

"What do you mean?" Marshall leaned in a little. "Are you sure it was him?"

"I couldn't entirely tell, but I saw a flash of grey fur and I smelled trash. Who else would it be?"

Chase was silent, the air of breakfast turning tense.

Rubble spoke up, trying to return to their conversational ways. "Am I the only one noticing that Zuma isn't here?"

"Hmm." Marshall looked around, "he isn't. Maybe he's still asleep?"

The bulldog thought for a moment, tilting his head gently. "I actually knocked on his door earlier, but he wasn't there." The bulldog could only shrug, "maybe he's… out?"

"In the dead of morning?" Chase flipped his head up, catapulting chunks of dog food with his nose. "Bullshit, detective Chase is on the case." Before anyone could protest, the shepherd jumped upward and charged ahead, walking through the circle. Rubble was quick to save his food bowl before it could be stepped in, protectively moving it out of the way while Skye only rolled her eyes again.

As Chase made his way to Zuma's kennel, he briefly forgot why he was even walking. His face twisted in bewilderment as he hesitated, only for the fog to suddenly clear and his goal quickly reminded itself. "Chase, are you okay?" Marshall caught up with him, sticking close at his side and speaking softly.

"Never felt better," was the response through gritted teeth, staring his dilated eyes forward to his destination.

"Dude are you- … are you on cocaine?"

"Caffeine pills," Chase corrected, and sharply turned to the Dalmatian with narrowed eyes. "Human ones too, they're more potent anyway."

Marshall pulled a horrified expression as he followed behind him. "Huma- are you insane?!"

"I'm sick of all these days passing us by!" The shepherd hissed, stumbling slightly. "I keep falling asleep, we keep hitting dead ends, and every day we waste the killer is just going to spend taking someone else!" He pointed his paw into the firefighter's chest while leering into his blue eyes. "There's just too much going on, I want this solved today! Did you find anything out last night? My dumbass was asleep so I probably missed your calls."

"Okay first of all; calm down." Marshall said sternly, taking Chase's paw in his own and moving it away. "And you need your sleep, otherwise your mental state will slip and that'll be an even bigger mess." He explained as gently as he could. "Stop taking those damn pills."

Chase merely scowled, averting his gaze.

"And secondly," the spotted dog continued. "I finally hit every house. The dogs all belonged to rich owners, just like we expected." He glanced to the side for a moment, "said owners were either nice and invited me in… or pompous assholes who threw entire sets of silverware at me."

"They threw silverware at you?" Chase tilted his head. "You're PAW Patrol, shouldn't they have known that?"

"Chase, it was after midnight, and I wasn't in uniform. But the point is, I managed to connect all the collars except one."

"The one that was missing?"

"Yeah, that." Marshall pointed, "and for what little help it may be, I managed to get some insight on who it belonged to." He looked around slightly before leaning in to Chase, whispering in a hushed tone. "It was a Pomeranian named Anneto."

"Anneto," Chase twitched slightly. "Don't know anyone named that. Another fucking dead end." He started growling, claws etching through his paws like he was about to tear up the grass.

"Hey, relax!" Snapped the spotted dog, "we're still in this, aren't we? Did you ever get a chance to talk to Rocky?"

"No, he never came home." Chase's attention was snapping all over the place, his mind still wired to the max. "I'll have to get him today," he thought for a moment, before his eyes narrowed. "Wait... why am I over here again?"

"You wanted to check on Zuma."

"Right right, I'll get on that." The shepherd kicked the door to the lab's kennel open with his back leg, turning sharply and walking inside. Chase didn't know what he was expecting; a trashed kennel, a ransom note, or even just finding Zuma asleep with headphones in. Looking wall to wall in confusion, yet another dead end had hit him square in the nose. The strangely unused bed still sat at the end of the room, puffed out and gathering dust. Surfer memorabilia hung from the walls and lined his shelves, a salty smell emitting from them that gave the kennel a feel of the sea. The irritating crunch of sand broke under his paws as he walked further inside, Zuma always did slightly track sand everywhere, much to the annoyance of everyone else around him.

"I don't see anything wrong." Marshall peeked inside, glancing over each beach-themed detail in the kennel.

Turning around a few times, Chase put his nose to the floor. "That's what worries me. Zuma wouldn't just leave out of nowhere."

"Should we tell Ryder?"

Chase was about to respond when something caught his eye. Marshall never would've seen it, a detail so faint only the most attentive perfectionist could've spotted it: Grey dog fur. Nestled in a small pile off in the corner was a clump of grey dog hair, matted and stinking of oil. His head spinning, Chase stared at the fur for several seconds as sweat pooled under his paws.

"Chase? Marshall repeated. "Should we let Ryder know?"

"No." The shepherd uttered, the image building in his head was not a pretty one. There was only one dog he knew who had unkempt, dirty grey fur. Had his mind been in a more stable state, Chase likely would've taken the detail without panic, but here he was nearly shaking at the sight.

The Dalmatian behind him quickly made his presence known again. "Chase, dude, you okay? You're scaring me."

"I'm fine," he snapped, putting every ounce of effort forward to hide his panic. "Look, my head is spinning and I can barely keep myself awake half the time. I'm gonna go find Rocky and talk to him before he vanishes into thin air again."

Marshall had to step out of the way as the shepherd got moving again. "What exactly are you gonna talk to him about?"

"Anything!" Chase called over his heavy shoulder, "if the killer is making his victims look like strays, maybe there's some… I don't know, reference that I'm not getting? A street thing? I need to find out!"

"What about Zuma?"

"He's fine, I'm sure of it!" Chase lied, not knowing the true state of the Lab's situation but grimacing from the picture he painted in his head.

Looking to the ground, the Dalmatian could only worry for his friend's state. "Just… take it easy on yourself, okay?" He called out, but Chase didn't reply. He was already well on his way across the clearing, abandoning breakfast and leaving his friends to their own affairs. He just needed to talk, only a talk, just a few seconds was all he asked for. If he could only speak to Rocky and make some things clear, maybe a good load would be taken off his mind. But what would he say? What could he even say? A conversation was meant to be nothing more, but the thought of talking to Rocky flared his nerves. Something so easy suddenly become complex, and even as Chase stood before the door to the stray's kennel he found himself frozen in place.

"Okay this… let's just get this over with." He drew a shaky breath, reaching out to knock on Rocky's door. His paw made no contact. "He probably… doesn't want to talk to me." But they had to speak now, after the investigation of Zuma's kennel Rocky more wedged into things than he thought. Like it or not, this had to happen.

Overriding his body, he forced his paw forward and knocked on the door. No turning back now, he told himself, and he nervously kneaded his paws in place. Forcing his tail to wag a little, calming his nerves became a gruesome task.

"Chase, I can smell you out there." Rocky's dejected voice came through.

"You can?" The shepherd jolted, wondering if he was due for a bathe.

The mix leaned against his door a little. "It's fine, I guess. What do you need?"

"I… wanted to talk to you."

The words hung in the air like a fired gunshot, Chase began to mentally backtrack and contemplating what would happen if he just ran away now. He'd probably never want to speak to him again after that, and the shepherd's heart would forever remain broken.

"Alright then," Rocky said apathetically. "Come in I guess."

Years of Chase's life were spent to fieldwork, preparing for any situation he could find himself in. Falling buildings, fires, trapped civilians, traffic control, leadership, and yet nothing could've possibly prepared him for this. He could run down a fleeing suspect and lunge at their arm, drag down grown men by his teeth, sniff out bombs and drugs, yet the thought of talking to his beloved stray filled him with uncertainty.

"Look, it's been a minute," Chase stuttered, opening the door with his nose and walking in. He saw the mixed breed standing at his desk, still staring over the broken pieces he had vowed to put together. "...still trying to fix that radio?" He made sure to close the door behind him, approaching Rocky in the lowlight. His eyes immediately flicked to the mixed breed's neck, Chase spotting the detail he had seen earlier at the restaurant a few days prior.

The blue collar, still idly around Rocky's neck. All he needed was one close look at it, and Chase would have his dreaded answer.

"Trying to," the grey dog flexed his claws. "I've been staring at all these pieces for two months and I have no idea what's wrong with them."

"Well," Chase desperately hunted for something to start with. "What have you found?"

Rocky looked up for a moment, seemingly studying his close friend like the thought of asking about his work was unheard of. For a powerful German shepherd, Chase kept his expression gentle, even as he was fighting his body's fidgeting. "Everything is… fine," Rocky shrugged. "I replaced all the wires, checked for damage anywhere down to the individual circuit boards, there's nothing wrong with this." The mix said, bristling at his desk. "And yet it just won't work."

"Sorry about that."

"It's fine, I'm just not as good as I used to be."

"Don't say that," Chase moved a few steps closer, approaching Rocky's shoulder. "Look it's been a while since we… properly talked." Sitting down, he remembered a stinging comment from a while back. "Why did you… why did you tell me to go to hell?"

Rocky stopped in place, a twinge of guilt spreading on his face. His paws slowly slid off the table and met the floor gently, Chase's gaze burning into his neck. "I don't know I…" he grimaced, wondering how much of the truth he should tell. "I just met someone recently, and… having a friend really helps me forget about things."

"Oh really?" Smiled the shepherd, wagging his tail. "That's great! I'm happy for you."

Rocky had to turn his head to hide the blush on his face. "Oh, thanks." The quietest chuckle left him, a flicker of light returning to him. "Yeah this… dog, he… he kinda gave me some things to think about. Told me that I could just tell anyone who hated me to piss off."

"Well honestly, he's right." Chase stepped closer. "Can't let those people bring you down, but-" he leaned forward slightly, closing an inch distance between them. "You know I'm not one of those people, right?"

The stray couldn't suppress his laugh any longer. "Of course not," he giggled. "You're not a person at all, you're a dog." He laughed for a moment, before fading out slightly. His smile drifted, as he looked down with a hushed tone. "I thought you hated me."

"Rocky." Crossing the first line, Chase slowly slid his paw to Rocky's, not directly placing atop but letting their claws gently touch. "I have never, at any point in my life, hated you."

"Even after I kissed you without warning?" The mix thought back to the time they had spent together in the Lookout, a memory so distant it felt like a dream. Even then, just picturing it in his head made his heart skip a beat.

"Well you-" Chase had to look aside for a moment. "You still… shouldn't have really done that. You caught me off guard and I… said some things I shouldn't have." Shame crept up his spine as he remembered snapping at the poor stray. Rocky wasn't all there psychologically, and it was doubtful if he could even think before acting sometimes. "But… you know," his voice rose, mischievousness beginning to drip. "A part of me…" he hesitated in his words, knowing exactly what was about to leave his muzzle. "Kinda liked it?"

The truth now in the air, Rocky froze in place like a shock of electricity had seized him. His paws began to sweat as shivers went down his spine, legs feeling weaker than usual. The radio immediately became an afterthought. "I… I thought you-" he stuttered, with a cracking voice.

"I needed time, okay?" Chase insisted, really trying to sound as sincere as possible. "Now, I know what that sounds like, but I really didn't want to just leave you like that." Sitting back a little, he gave a sad sigh. "I had to discover a few things about myself, I couldn't do all that in a night. Then those murders start popping up and my time becomes occupied."

Great excitement was rising in Rocky's throat, but a part of him couldn't believe what he was hearing. Averting eye contact out of pure nervousness, Rocky locked his vision onto a stray wiring component on his desk. "So… what you're saying is…?"

"I'm saying…" Chase hesitated, his mouth locking up as he tried to get the sentence out. "That after the amount of thought I've put into this." Sweat pooled from under his paws, his heart rate skyrocketing. "I think I…"

Say it, Chase shouted at himself internally. Just say it you idiot. He could tear down grown men to the floor but he couldn't tell the truth, what the hell was wrong with him?

"I think I wouldn't mind being in a relationship with you."

The confession was broken and unpolished, sounding more like a hesitant implication he put together in four seconds. "I- I'm sorry I-" he quickly retreated, "I could've said that better. What I mean is; I wouldn't mind… you, and I…" A hopeless stutter emitted from him, the shepherd visibly breaking down. It became even worse when Rocky turned to look at him straight in the eye. "Damn it, this is… hard to say." He still tried forcing out.

Rocky leaned forward, faint hope shining in his eyes. "Do you… really mean that?" Enraptured at the moment, all the mix could see was the bashful shepherd in front of him. And it was up to said shepherd to drive the point home.

"I guess…" Chase had to stop to consider what he was saying. "Yeah. I do."

There was silence between them as they stared at each other. Chase remained in defensive position, bracing himself for harsh rebuttal. Rocky stood as if he were frozen, trying to speak with words that weren't forming, his shining eyes scanning Chase. "Is this a dream?"

"Don't think so," the shepherd laughed to himself, then reached out his paw and touched it to Rocky's chest. The distance closed between them, they were merely an inch apart. "See, I'm real."

He knew that history was about to repeat itself, but this time, Chase was ready for it. A few more seconds gone by and he probably would've done it himself. Rocky hesitated before it happened, but gave into his inner desire and nothing could stop him after that. They slowly shut their eyes and leaned in to one another, kissing in the lowlight. This time there was nothing to pull them away, no reason to be afraid, and nothing to stop the surging electricity between them. Overcome with wanting, Rocky moved his mouth along with Chase's, forming a passionate dance as his paws grabbed the shepherd's chest. With his own confusion and uncertainties vanquished, Chase feared nothing as he gently pulled the mix closer, drifting his arms around him.

They were enraptured in passion for a short time, although either of them would've been fine with it lasting forever. Both dogs stuck together until they gracefully pulled apart, looking into each other's eyes as they held one another.

"Chase," Rocky breathed. "You can touch me wherever you want."

"Woah," the shepherd flattened his ears. "Slow down, just… slow down." He said quickly, trying to ease down the mixed breed. "You do know that… I don't want you for your body? I want you… for you."

But Zuma did, Rocky almost said aloud for quickly stopping himself. Now wasn't the time to think about Zuma, especially after what happened last night.

"Please don't leave me," the mix pleaded into Chase's fur, clinging to him like a hopeless puppy. He couldn't take it anymore, Chase was perfect in every way he had known. The shepherd happily wrapped his arms around the mix again, letting him nuzzle into his brown shoulder. He cared little for how unkempt Rocky's fur was, it never mattered much to him anyway, but Chase forever kicked himself for not standing up for his stray earlier.

With Rocky nuzzled under him, Chase could see down his grey back. Discreetly moving his paw, he drifted his fingers down Rocky's neck like he was petting him, only stopping once he reached the collar. Rocky was oblivious as the officer gently gripped the edges of the plastic band in his claws, slowly rotating it around the dog's neck to expose the dog tag. He prayed to every deity out there that he wouldn't find what he suspected, pleading the universe wouldn't stab him like this.

It was lining up more than he cared to admit. The grey fur in Zuma's kennel, lined up with his entire disappearance, Skye spotting someone like Rocky stalking around, multiple dogs being found dead and humiliated as strays. Chase sucked the air through his teeth as he cradled Rocky, still slowly rotating the collar around in a motion that felt like hours.

Finally he exposed the small piece of metal that hung from the band. In a cruel insult to injury, it was turned around, forcing Chase to endure one last moment of dread before revealing it. The world was rarely kind to those who truly tried, he had always told himself. In a swift, heart-stopping flick of the claw, he turned the tag around, and the words were revealed:

Anetto.

It read the name like a gravestone. This collar, worn by his beloved stray, was the last missing piece of evidence he and Marshall couldn't find. The final piece of the puzzle uncovered, in the one place Chase pleaded he'd never find a lead. He hid his despair well, remaining stone-faced as he gently licked Rocky on the top of his head. "I really want to stay with you, I do," he explained. "But I need to get back to this killer in the streets, okay?"

"No," Rocky said with a hushed voice. "Stay with me, please, just for a few hours."

"Rocky I-"

"Please," the mix whimpered into his chest. "I beg you."

Knowing Rocky couldn't directly see his face, Chase silently shifted his expression to great concern, knowing Marshall needed help. He couldn't tackle the investigation alone, but Rocky needed him at the same time, putting him in a difficult place.

He let out a sigh, praying Marshall would be okay for a little while. "Alright," he said, pulling him tighter. "You have me."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Chase was awake in Rocky's bed. As the time slipped by he slowly watched the stray in his arms drift away into sleep. The shepherd stayed perfectly still, waiting patiently for Rocky's grip to slowly fall limp, his gentle breathing soothing Chase's mind. As much as he would've loved to fall asleep alongside him, the caffeine pills were still in his system, repeatedly kicking his mind awake and screaming into his ears. Chase simply couldn't fall asleep while the meds surfed his bloodstream, he could only stay beside his partner as they laid together.

With movements contained and silent, he pushed himself up and crept away. Briefly looking back at his lover with worry, he was terrified where everything was headed. He wanted so desperately to be happy with himself, to rejoice and embrace Rocky as a new chapter in his life, but he just couldn't, not after everything he had just learned. Leaving the kennel as quietly as he could, he walked out into the night. A sickening bile was boiling in his stomach, a foreboding cloud mixing in with the caffeine-spiked chemicals that already lingered. "Marshall, you read me?" He said into his collar, walking out into the clearing.

"I guess," the Dalmatian's voice came through, sounding bored. "No offense dude, but why are you always calling me? Just come see me in my kennel."

"This can't wait," Chase shook his head, looking back at Rocky's den. "I just learned something… horrible. And I don't know what I can do about it."

"What's wrong?"

He hated saying the words, but he thought back to everything he had known so far. With each vile memory clicking into place, the further he winced like a knife in his gut. "He was wearing it, Marshall. The last collar, Rocky was wearing it."

"What!?" The Dalmatian exclaimed, a bit of commotion on his end.

"I think…" Chase darkened, his breathing going shaky. "And I really, really don't want this to be true." His voice rose, anxiety bubbling in his nerves. "I think Rocky might be the killer."