Daniel Rigg

Daniel sat with his hands in his lap. His pressed collar was strangling him. The uniform was stifling and itchy. He kept his gaze downward as the hotshot lawyer's fancy shoes clicked on the linoleum. He wanted to look harmless, shrinking into his chair.

Hoffman had taken one of the higher ups' offices for this meeting. He was calm, sitting behind the desk with his jacket hanging by the door, giving an easy expression that wasn't exactly a smile but wasn't hostile either. He held himself calmly, shoulders squared with the confidence of a man in charge.

Rigg kept his head down, hoping he didn't mess things up this time. The lawyer hardly gave him his attention.

"My client has a broken nose and a fractured cheek bone," his voice was low and bored as he studied the bulletins tacked on the wall. "Administrative leave with pay is not acceptable."

He watched Hoffman who gave him a stern glance. "The IA investigation is underway, Mr. Blank."

The lawyer smirked at this. "In this precinct, huh? What's that gonna get me?"

"The truth."

"The truth? Well I'll tell you what the truth is. The truth is I have an eye witness."

"The man's wife? She gains as much as he does if there was to be a financial settlement. Which is not going to happen because he's lying. He attacked Officer Rigg first."

Art Blank's eyes bored into the top of his head. Daniel struggled to keep his eyes downcast. "According to who?"

"Me. I saw the whole thing," Hoffman's eyes had gone soft, almost nurturing. When Daniel looked up he saw someone who cared. Someone who was looking out for him. There was an understanding there that made him feel safe.

"Would you testify before a grand jury?"

"I've already signed IA's affidavit. The charges are being dismissed." There was almost a smug smile on Hoffman's face.

"You're good," Art Blank rested his shoulder against the wall, cool dismissal sliding off his tongue. "You're - you're obviously thick as thieves in this precinct. But you know it'll come back to you, right? Maybe not today but someday. It'll come back to you."

Daniels hairs stood on the back of his neck and he felt the blood rush out of his face. Hoffman stared up at the man, unphased. There was a low rumble in his words, as though daring him to do his worst. "Well, Mr. Blank, what goes around. Is that all?"

"Unfortunately," the man in the fancy suit slithered out, slamming the door behind him. As soon as his silhouette vanished from the glass windows, Daniel covered his face with his hands and sank into his seat, a sigh ghosting out of his lungs.

"Jesus. That was intense."

"I told you I'd take care of it," Hoffman got to his feet and went to get his jacket. "Go home. Spend the next two weeks kicking back. Relax. Tell Tracy that Angie and myself say hi."

"Thanks, Hoffman. Seriously." Daniel jumped to his feet, taking the man's hand and shaking it with overwhelming gratitude. He was in awe. He didn't understand why people gave the guy a wide berth. He was a fucking saint. "You just handled that so easily."

"Comes with experience. Trust me, you'll get there." He seemed distracted. In a rush. He was already a foot out of the office but Daniel didn't want him to leave just yet.

"Hey, Hoff," Daniel grabbed his arm, flinching when Hoffman stopped and stared at his hand. "Sorry. But just so you know. If there's anything you need that I can do. Just say the word."

"Sure thing," there was a pleased pull of his cheek and a calculating stare. "And don't worry, I haven't forgotten about the SWAT recommendation. I'll forward it to Grissom as soon as I get a chance. And I'll keep you posted if I need anything."

"Thanks, man. You're the best."

"Don't you forget it."

Wilhelmina Maddox

"Will, please," Frank's voice was pleading over the receiver. "Please come home."

Why did she accept the call? "It's over," she whispered back, still too sleep-induced to think of the right words to end the call right there. Her throat was tight but she kept herself firm. She wasn't going back. Even if a small part of her wanted to.

She heard his voice and words but didn't bother to listen. Her eyes wandered around as she considered pressing the red end call button. Times like these, she wished the phone call was on the landline. It was always more satisfying to slam down on the receiver. She sat cross legged on the floor mattress, her new bed until she finally went and bought some furniture. It was her first weekend officially in her new place.

Her bedroom was cozy, the faded floral wallpaper peeling in some corners, but the place was clean and in a good neighborhood. Her new roommate, Allison Kerry, was likely sleeping across the hallway.

He had woken her up that Saturday, not an unreasonable hour, but she had fumbled for the phone half asleep, expecting it to be Angelina Hoffman to talk about their shopping date.

"Let's just talk. Please."

She bit her lip. "I want to come by sometime and pick up some things. But we have nothing to discuss."

"When?"

"I'll let you know. Goodbye." She hung up before he said anything to keep her on the line. She shut her eyes tight, unsure of whether it was a good call or not to communicate with Frank at all. But it was early enough that a cool morning run would clear her head.

She got herself up to her feet, stretching out her popping joints. Still half-asleep, she went to pull on her jogging tights and pulled the sports bra over her chest, her movements swift. She had a lot of pent up energy from the past week.

Normally, she'd like to go to her fitness center to let off some steam with some dancing and aerobics. But she'd avoided it out of fear that Frank would be lurking around there. So cardio, it was.

Cardio was reliable, especially when frustrated. And she was wound up tight and extremely frustrated. Hoffman had been difficult to work with after the Jefferson case disappeared. When she had asked him where it had gone, he simply said Grissom had reassigned it out of Homicides and he had already handed over the case. He stonewalled her after that. There was clearly a rift building, a great wall he wasn't letting her pass.

It drove her fucking mad. She was beginning to get the bigger picture, at least whenever Rosello was concerned. Hoffman was in it - whatever 'it' was - deep. And he wasn't going to exactly spell it out for her. She could only assume this was his fear, but until certain, it was all ruminations with no answers. She hated that.

She was already out of the door with her trainers on, hurrying down the stairs and feeling her limbs start to warm up when she reached the outside. It was late winter now. Her breath was mist and she was already shivering.

She lurched into a long gaited jog, her agitation and anger giving her extra pep in her step. It wasn't long before she was outright sprinting down the dead streets, the sun just barely showing itself.

Everything was blue. The pavement. The buildings. The sky. It was a shade of blue she saw every morning across her desk. The cool and unnatural shade she could get lost in if she forgot herself.

Her chest cramped from the bitter cold but it was a good kind of pain. Distracting. Her mind kept returning to him. She wondered how she could save him. She wondered if he was thinking about her now or if he was sleeping off another long night of drinking alone.

Today she was going to spend time with his sister. How funny. She wasn't sure what to make of the invitation. It wasn't so awkward, though. Allison was going with them. It wasn't just a one-on-one session.

She jumped over an overturned trash can, hurdling over like her track days and continued her speed. She was already breathing rapidly, having skipped one too many cardio days, having to cut back on her exercise time with how life just kept throwing shit her way. She mostly stuck with heavy weights these days, not just the kind she used at the gym. She needed to work on her strength training. Always.

Hoffman tended to do the foot-racing and tackling when they were in the field. He was just so fucking strong and big enough to bring any bad guy down. It was always a beautiful sight when he'd charge through like a juggernaut and take down anyone that tried to escape in a blur of muscle and rage. It made her heart race; her mouth water.

She swallowed and blinked back to reality. Her legs were tight and burning. She let her frustration out as she kept raising her legs and pounding her soles hard, running as fast as her body could go. She missed this. Her need for speed could only be satisfied with a steering wheel now.

Checking her watch, she realized she had been running for an hour. She had to slow down, her knees begging for some forgiveness. Sweat dripped down her neck and she finally let herself stop and walk. She was wheezing and coughing, her nose running. Fuck, she was out of shape.

She had done zigzags throughout the blocks and was almost back to Kerry's. But she'd walk the rest of the way. Maybe there was a coffee shop. People were starting to wake up and go about their early Saturday chores. She noticed a familiar back with chocolate brown hair.

"Hoffman!" She jogged up to him. The man turned and she stopped, realizing she had the wrong person. "Sorry," she proceeded to jog by him, embarrassment adding to her flushed skin. Maybe it was wishful thinking.

She did not look forward to this date with Angelina.

Angelina Hoffman

Angelina had been to Allison Kerry's place before. She and Ally weren't besties, but close enough that she felt comfortable to come drop by whenever. Her left hand was itchy with the engagement ring practically burning a band on her finger. She bounced where she stood as she rang at the intercom.

"Yeah?" Ally's voice came through.

"It's Angie," She pressed the button. The buzz of the front door letting her into the foyer was a welcome from the freezing morning air. She pushed through, wiped her feet, and quickly made her way to the elevators.

When she got to the apartment, she always stopped to appreciate the woman's taste. There were pastels. Nothing too flashy, nothing too conservative. There were tons of books on the walls, a decent DVD collection. And her wine cooler was what Angie envied most of all.

"Hey, hon," Ally hugged her and took her coat. "Will's in the shower. So what's the big news you said I had to learn in person?"

A wide smile on her face she held her left hand up. "He finally did it!"

"Oh, my God," Ally covered her mouth with both hands and let out a gleeful laugh. "About time. Congrats! When's the big day?"

"We're thinking June. We'll have invites out soon."

"Was this yesterday?"

"Two days ago. You will not believe what Mark said when I called him." She rolled her eyes at the memory. "He said I better change my name and get out of town. Like that wasn't even funny, you know? I swear." The phone call had been abrupt and cool. He hadn't sounded particularly thrilled, which wasn't out of place, but he sounded especially somber. She was hoping Will would give her a better idea when she got her alone later that day. Mark had been off lately, clearly hiding something.

Ally smirked, "That's tame, knowing him. But yeah, kind of a dick thing to say instead of 'I'm happy for you'."

"Yeah. Guess I shouldn't complain too much, though. At least he and Peter get along now. But still," she finally pogoed up and down, letting herself feel happy. Mark was likely fine. Maybe it was girl trouble. "I also wanted to ask you and Will something big. Over brunch. And mimosas." She clapped her hands together, like a kid about to go to the candy shop.

"All right," Ally, beautiful and serious, tended to smile a lot more when Angelina acted childish, so she played it up a little for her benefit.

"Hey," Will came out, red hair dampened down in a helmet of curls that she was towelling dry. "Sorry I'm running late."

"You sure were running early," Ally's pun had Will groaning. She turned to Angie, "This lady decided running at sub-freezing weather was a great idea this morning."

"Oh, gosh," Angie cringed. "That sounds terrible."

"Yeah, I paid for it in the shower. I was coughing up a lung for ten minutes straight."

"Better not make that a habit. You don't want pneumonia," Ally went to the kitchen. "I'll make some coffee. Do either of you want some?"

"Yes," both Angie and Will chanted. When Will disappeared into her room to finish getting ready, Allison put on a pot and started the brew. She turned swiftly, her big hair swooshing.

"Okay. This is a long shot, but does your brother ever talk about Will?"

Angie laughed. "Yeah, I wish. I'm lucky if I can get two sentences from him over the phone. Why? Is Will okay?"

"Well," Ally shot a glance over to the direction of the bedrooms, lowering her voice "Will's been moping lately. I'm not sure if it's about her divorce, but she's been distracted. Just so you know, in case you think she's being weird. Her ex calls her non-stop, all the time. I keep telling her to just get a new phone or call the company to change her number. But I'm worried she's thinking of seeing him."

"Oh," Angie looked over to Will, worry wiggling into her stomach. "Yeah, you think she'll not want to hear about the wedding?"

"I'm not sure. But she's a big girl. She'll be fine. Just so you know, in case she tries to cut from us early, let's try to keep her nearby. I've got this bad feeling, you know?"

"I got you," Angie felt a slight thrill, like she was helping out on police-business or getting into some action.

"So how's Pete? I haven't seen him since the picnic last summer."

"He's good. He's enlisting in the marines. He's actually due to ship to bootcamp two months after June, which is why we're looking at that date."

"Oh, wow," Allison raised an eyebrow and went to pour them some fresh brew. "I'm surprised, I thought he was going to try to make it big with his magic act."

Angie let out a small laugh, "Yeah, I thought so too. Well, we were talking about starting a family at some point. He wants to make sure we're more stable before we do. Military seemed like one of the few options right now." She took the mug graciously and took a slow sip.

"Ah, gotcha. It must have been a hard call," Ally squeezed her shoulder.

"I'm ready," Will came out, her damp hair down and over her puffy coat. Angie noticed she liked wearing greens and browns, her casual clothes reminding her of earthy forests. A satchel slung around her shoulders and knee high leather boots, she looked like an Irish nymph about to go on an epic.

"Great. Let's go!"

She led the two ladies up the subway stairs towards her latest discovery, humming to herself a tune offkey. Angie was a foodie, obviously. She didn't just love cooking. She loved to eat. She loved walking by a restaurant's opening day and perusing their menu. She would consider the flavor profiles offered and decide on whether or not she'd go and try some of their dishes.

"So I discovered this place last Restaurant Week. Amazing french toast. Peter said the salmon benedicts were good. And it's not too expensive." When they made their way inside, the heat hit her face. The three women all sighed in pleasure when they finally got out of the cold.

The lady at the front desk recognized her, her eyes lighting up. "Angie," The woman had menus resting against her hip and wrapped an arm around her. "It's been months. How's Peter?"

"Great, Sarah, it's so good to see you again. Beats hosting back at the Swank?" Angie used to moonlight at a bar and grill where she met Sarah. Neither had enjoyed the late night clientele or the messes they made.

"This is paradise compared. Table for three?" She looked amongst her group.

Nodding, Angie was then brought deeper into the busy breakfast scene, where the scents of cinnamon, cream, and coffee wafted through her nose like perfume at Macy's. Her stomach growled.

Once they all sat at a table out of the way and close to the kitchen, Angie noticed Will was getting another phone call. She looked at it for a moment before flipping it closed and putting it back in her purse. "Sorry," she had noticed Angie's glance.

"No, you're fine." One of the servers arrived with a water pitcher and glasses, placing each in front of the patrons.

"You know, Will, you can file a restraining order on him." Ally looked to her colleague, heavily into her eyes. "It would only take a few minutes to fill out the form."

"Yeah. But I still need to get some things at the apartment first."

"Like what?"

"Some photo albums. Some things that can't be replaced. Family heirlooms."

"We can always sneak in when he's at work. I doubt he's changed the key."

"He doesn't exactly have a consistent work schedule."

"What does he do?"

" - Hi, I'm Karen, and I'll be your server. Can I start you off with some macchiatos?"

"A pitcher of your blood orange mimosa," Ally firmly held three fingers out, "And three glasses."

"Black coffee," Will added.

"And I'll have a caramel macchiato," Angie smiled at the woman as she nodded and swiftly left.

"No avoiding the question, honey, does he have a job?"

"He was interviewing for a call center," was the response. Even Angie thought it sounded defeated. "Likely, he's unemployed."

"How the hell is he paying rent?"

"I don't know." Will was pressing her fingertips into the sides of her forehead. "I opened up a new account and haven't been putting anything in the old. I'm still working on taking my name off of all shared accounts, but it's kind of hard when he's refusing to sign the papers or even listen when I tell him it's over. I'll have to wait six more days before the divorce can be filed officially, unless he decides to contest before then. Ugh." She slumped back in her chair, the shadows of her eyes brought out from their overhead light. "I'm working on breaking the lease at my old place but the landlord won't return my phone calls. It's been a brutal week."

They sat in silence after this. Angie's mind was wavering with the low mood. It sounded hard. Divorce. A part of her was suddenly feeling dodgy about marrying Peter. What if we ever separated? She wasn't sure if that was even a possibility. She was sure they'd work things out, no matter what it was. Well, maybe not everything. Angie thought this was one of those rare times that ending a marriage was more than valid. Will deserved better. And Frank needs to go to jail, she fumed quietly.

"Angie," Will leaned forward, eyes wide open and thrilled. "What's that on your hand?" She nodded towards her engagement ring. Half-embarrassed, half overjoyed, she showed the sparkling gemstone to her. "Congratulations!" The shadows had faded from her face and was instead replaced with shining merriment. "Wow, it's beautiful. Way to go, Peter!" She let out a small laugh. "Oh, please tell me Hoffman cried."

Angie shook her head, grinning. "No, he actually didn't seem to care."

"What?" Will suddenly looked furious. "I'm sure he's thrilled. He must be." There was a troubled frown on her face. "What did he say?"

"Uh," she let out a laugh and repeated what she had told Ally earlier that morning. Will didn't seem to get the joke either.

"Change your name and leave town," she repeated the sentence, as though trying to write a poem with the words.

"Is something wrong?" Angie cocked her head, suddenly scared. "Is Mark in trouble?"

"No, no," Will shook her head. "He was fine last time we spoke. He's just - stressed."

"About what?"

"Uh…"

"Here are your drinks. Mimosas and coffee. Have you all decided on what to eat?" The waitress had her notepad out, pen at the ready.

"Yeah," Ally pointed to one line on the menu. "I"ll have the french toast with strawberries."

"I'll have the blueberry pancakes," Angie handed her menu to their server.

"Uh, oatmeal." Will gave a shy smile. "Thanks." Angie wanted to protest but firmly pressed her lips together. She shouldn't judge or even comment, but it felt like such a wasted opportunity.

"You're welcome to try my pancakes if you want. They're so buttery and moist."

Will laughed. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm a bit of a health nut."

"When she's not killing fifths with your brother," Ally had already poured the drinks out. "I've also seen you crush a basket of fish and chips in five minutes. Cut the crap, Will." Allison Kerry held out the champagne flute. "To the weekend. And finally having a chance to hang out with some ladies for a change." They made their cheers and after taking a long sip, Ally continued her onslaught onto Will. "What's with the oatmeal?"

Will shrugged. "I'm just not feeling anything rich right now, is all." She was already halfway through the first glass of deep red orange and looked anxious. "Besides, my appetite is shot. Sorry."

"No, don't apologize," Angie wanted to wave Will's troubles away. "No need for the third degree. Besides, there will be more brunches to be had. Right, Ally?"

"Yeah. I'm in. I just like giving crap. Come on, Will, I've heard you give Hoffman plenty of shit. You give as much as you take. Don't go easy on me." She was resting her elbow on the table, curling her hair around her finger. There was a teasing glitter in her hazel eyes. "And I would bet my left kidney that you started running and eating oatmeal because of Special Agent Peter Strahm."

Will choked on her drink and Ally pumped her fist in the air. "Called it!"

"What's going on? Who's Peter Strahm?" Angelina was fascinated, leaning forward. "You said special agent, like FBI? Ooh, please, details. Please tell me he's tall."

"Tall, dark-haired, a cute face I'd love to sit on, and he's completely taken with our Wilhelmina here." Ally put her arm around Will, fluffing her red hair outward like a dog.

"Yeah?" Will smirked back. "Who said I went running because of Strahm? Maybe there was another guy on my mind I was trying to get out."

"Who?" Angelina's eyes grew wide. "Is it someone I know?"

Will's gaze fell and she cleared her throat. "Also, way to try to avoid the whole Eric Matthews situation, Kerry," Will turned and gave the woman a death stare. "You know that's something that I've been trying to wrap my head around."

It was Ally's turn to look flustered. "Well - yeah. You're right. I suck." She looked up to Angelina like the sinner begging for absolution. She was chewing on her lip before leaning forward. "So - I didn't tell you, Angie, but Matthews and I have been… kind of a thing for a while."

"I know," Angie shrugged. "I knew for a while."

"What?!" Ally leaned forward. "How?"

"Mark. Eric sometimes has dinner at my place. Mark let it slip. It's not my business, Ally, though…" She shook her head, the jumble of frustration, anger, and just plain sadness wallowing inside of her. "...I think it's unfair to Jane. And their son. Danny?"

"Daniel, yeah," Ally wiped her nose, avoiding eye contact. "I know. I'm not proud of it. But I don't know what to do. It just happened."

Neither Will nor Angelina wanted to be the first to answer.

"So… Peter Strahm," Will tried to restore the conversation. "He's got these eyes that would make you melt, Ange. And those thick lashes. Ugh. Ally's right. I, too, would do terrible things to him if given the opportunity." Ally nodded furiously in agreement, eyes wide with lecherous glee.

"Yeah?" Angelina giggled, wishing she had a picture of the guy. "I'll need to meet him. Maybe he can strip for the bachelorette party. Which reminds me." She pressed her fingertips to the table, taking in a deep breath before taking the plunge. "Will you two be in my bridal party?"

Both Ally and Will turned to each other then back at her. "Uh, duh?" Ally grinned widely.

"I mean - of course." Will bit her lip, "When is the wedding?"

"June. The day's still up in the air." She let out a small high pitched squeak. "I'm so happy to hear that. I know we've only known each other for such a short period of time but it means so much that you're accepting. I just want our day to be fun for everyone, not just about Peter and myself." She paused to inhale, "And I'm going to be blunt: I need your help with Mark. Sometimes he gets," she stewed over the right word to say, "all broody. And I don't want him to be like that at the wedding."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Will gave a sympathetic smile. "He can act like a stick in the mud."

"And I just know this is going to be a stressful time for Mark. You know our parents died when we were younger. So I'm going to have Mark walk me down the aisle. I think that's going to be asking a lot of him. And I've seen how you two are with each other. He doesn't freeze up, you know? I think you two would be so cute if paired up at the party."

"I'm confused. Are you asking me to be Mark's plus one? Then why be a bridesmaid?"

"Kind of both. See, he would never willingly bring you, even for some harmless family function that I asked him to do for me. Trust me, he'd either read too much into it and I need to save all my childhood-blackmail-ammunition for other plans I have," her voice was getting serious and dark but her excitedness had her rapidly firing off her pitch before Will or Ally could get a word in. "And our entire lives, he's never been one to stand still in front of a camera for long. He never did prom. He never even wants to do family photos when I ask him to. So my wedding is probably one of the only times I'm going to get any good pictures of Mark. He even somehow made his police academy photos unavailable for printing! Can you believe it?"

"Actually," Will's withered grin was full of sympathy, "I totally believe that."

"It's so frustrating!" Angie shook her head. "I have like a handful of photos of him, the most recent one back when he was in high school! I want a modern picture, and damn it, he's going to have to suck it up on my day. And just because I'm feeling petty, I'm going to go all out. I'm hiring the best photographer I can afford and I want all the pictures, ladies. All of them. And I totally want a picture of him, arm-in-arm, with his work partner, you, at the wedding. So, you being a bridesmaid and him a groomsman, would be the perfect opportunity. I think it would be just so cute. And total payback for him not telling me you were a woman for months."

Angie let herself smile, knowing she was starting to sound diabolical. "I plan on having those copies distributed to all our friends. Everyone he works with will get complimentary copies. Oh, and I'm planning on more pictures when it's time for the bridesmaids and groomsmen to dance with each other at the beginning of the wedding party. Imagine." There was a twinkle in her eye and a giggle in her throat.

Will pondered this, light brown eyes squinting while she pursed her mouth in concentration. Then she let out a low laugh that grew with malicious intent. "This would piss him off on a whole new level. Oh my God, you're so evil. I love it."

Angie knew she liked Will for a reason. Anyone eager to give her brother a hard time was good company in her book.

"Thank you," Ally fanned herself, her cheeks flushed with anticipation. "My purpose in life is to fuck with Mark. As his baby sister, it is my divine right to show my love by driving him insane."

"Please send me a couple copies. I'll frame one and put it on my desk, so he'll have to see it every day." Will let out another laugh. "Angie, I had no idea. This explains why I didn't see any pictures at your place with you all."

"I know. I just - don't get why he's so camera shy. He's a good looking guy, he should be more proud."

"I hope you don't tell him this to his face," Ally smirked, "He already has a big head. Also, shouldn't you be more focused on other aspects of the wedding?" There was bemusement at her scattered priorities. "Like catering and colors?"

"I've had my dream wedding planned since I was nine," Angelina waved her hand away. She wasn't too OCD on the details of the aesthetic but she wanted the memories captured to be perfect. "And the maid of honor is a professional wedding planner. I'm not too worried, she said she'd comp me in exchange for catering her wedding next year."

"Nice. So what do you need us to do? Besides antagonizing your brother, which Will already does during normal business hours?" Ally looked over at Will who continued to giggle, raising an eyebrow at the immature woman. "You okay, Will?"

Her freckled cheeks were blushing and her eyes were watering. "Yeah. Don't mind me. Just. Nevermind." There was a nervous embarrassment pouring over her tight shoulder and how hard she chewed her lower lip.

"Well, I want you both to come to the bachelorette party, of course. And rehearsals. Oh, and helping me get fitted for my dress. And of course, you get fitted for yours as well. Muted green and gold." Angelina continued on about her dream wedding, looking forward to her special day with her two new bridesmaids by her side. "I think those colors will look fab for the two of you."

"I agree," Ally turned to Will. "Honey, you keep looking at that phone and I'm going to throw it in the river."

Will's eyes snapped up. "Sorry. It's just-," and was cut off by Ally swiping the black brick and putting it in her purse.

"Uh-uh. Will, I'm doing this for your own good. Forget Frank. Think about Peter Strahm pouring honey down his pants. It'll at least work up your appetite for that gruel you're about to eat."

Angie laughed at the imagery, her curiosity sky high. She had to see this guy.

Mark Hoffman

Mark Hoffman glared angrily at the approaching limousine that inched towards his crown vic. It was late. He wanted to be back at his warm apartment, not standing out at the waterfront waiting for this fuck.

The driver had an awareness that likely meant he was armed and possibly keeping a weapon trained on him at that very moment. Olaf rose out of the far back door, holding it out for Rosello who was slowly pulling himself to his feet.

It was time to go. It took everything he had not to simply put the car in gear and floor it, taking Rosello with his grill and seeing if the engine had enough horsepower to ram through the limo and into the bay. Other cars were beginning to pull up besides their leader and suited thugs made their way out to show their intimidation in numbers. It was an effective strategy.

The harbor stank of seagull shit and rotting fish. He never liked coming out here.

As he took steps towards the crime boss, he took in slow and deep breaths. He felt sharp and strong, unlike earlier that week. He didn't feel particularly upset. Just tired. "Mr. Rosello."

"Markie-boy!" Rosello waddled to the detective and placed greasy leather gloves on each of his shoulders. "You've been avoiding me?"

"No, sir." He kept his face blank, his mask perfectly passive. "Just been busy. Your name came up again on a case. I had to fix things."

"I heard. You did good, Markie-boy." Rosello had a toothy grin and his beady black eyes bore into his skull. "Very good. How's Angie?"

He felt his heart sink but held it in. "She's well."

"And Peter? I heard they got engaged," the yellow smile was spreading wider. "I hope you give them my congratulations. I'll send a fine bottle of champagne."

"There's no need," he quietly spoke, hoping the inner screams his soul wanted to bellow would stay buried deep.

"And Red? She hasn't responded to any of my letters. You tell her to write back, I miss her."

"She's not interested, Mr. Rosello," he kept eye contact, making it clear he wouldn't grovel, though his tone was smooth like glass. "I don't believe I can convince her."

"Yeah, she doesn't seem to like me very much. I hear she's getting recruited by your department's elites. What does Grissom call 'em? The Spook Squad? The Rosello Task Force?"

"I wouldn't know." Hoffman had his hands clasped in front of him, waiting to hear why Rosello summoned him. Despite dressing for the icy wind, it cut deep into him, making it hard for him to stand still. He fought the urge to shiver.

"Yeah, you're probably not invited. Makes sense." Rosello was at ease as he took a step to the side and readjusted his gloves. "How does Red feel about us meeting, Markie?"

"She doesn't know."

"No, I'm sure you try to keep her out of our business. I get it. Don't want her ending up like your last partner. What was his name? Kevin?"

"You know his name," Hoffman growled, losing his patience.

Rosello's grin widened. "Yeah. I guess I would. He used to stand exactly where you were, only he had a better smile when he waited. Vicky. Yeah, Vicky. That was his name."

"What did you need from me, Mr. Rosello?" He tilted his head back, disinterested in this charade.

"A bird tells me that this task force has a lot of people looking into me. People I don't particularly want involved. I'm just feeling a bit paranoid these days, but I'd like you to personally look into it."

"What's made you paranoid?" Hoffman didn't like where this was going. He was trying to go back through the past few weeks of events to see where he slipped up. He couldn't think of anything.

"I hear G-men are here. I hear your colleagues back in the precinct rolled the red carpet out for them. I don't like that." Rosello's smile petrified. "And I want them out of my city."

"There's not much I can do about scaring off the feds. I'm surprised you don't have guys in D.C. that can handle this." He was already dreading the work. The fucking headache of it all. He should just shoot himself and get it over with.

"That's the problem. They've been hush-hush on who's actually here. I need names, Hoffman. I need faces. I need where they're staying. Do what you do best. Get me information. Do that, and maybe I'll give you a vacation."

"You're so generous," he sneered. "But I seriously doubt I'd want what's on that itinerary."

"You'll have to wait and see, Markie-boy."

"Joy."

"Keep giving that attitude and you'll make me mad. Remember, Markie. You're here because you put yourself here. You best remember that any siesta I give is because I'm a generous man."

"Yeah." Hoffman remembered. He remembered the moment he closed the lock on the collar and became this cock's gimp. This fucker had all the money. All the power. And there was nothing he could do to stop it. These thoughts encased him like the frigid air around him.

And yet. There was something different, this time. If Rosello was this scared, that meant something. If the feds were really there, that is. If all those holier-than-thou assholes actually were making the guy sweat, maybe there was a chance he was in some real heat.

This gave him a rush of warmth. "You think you'll keep cheating the system?" Hoffman continued to stand his ground, his fingertips heating up.

He thought of Will. He imagined her hair, coppery fire and it filled him with life. She wasn't going to back down. He knew her too well. If anyone could stop Toni Rosello, it was her.

Rosello raised an eyebrow. "Cheeky, ain't ya?" Rosello let out a high wheezing laugh. "You drunk, kid?"

"No. Just tired of your shit."

WHAM. The strike had come out of nowhere. It hadn't come from his front, where Rosello stood, but to his side, where the big gargoyle fuckbag, Olaf, had pistol whipped him across the cheek. He tasted blood. His ears were ringing. He had his hands on his face, the surprise more painful than the actual assault.

"Still got some fight in ya? That's good. That's real good. I'll remember that. Maybe you're a bit slow, but let me remind you: I can destroy everything you care about, Markie-boy. Angie? I'll string her up and let my boys have their way with her while you watch until she's gangrene and begins to smell. I'll have her boyfriend eat his own balls while she watches. And you can see her suffer. And Red? I'll be real good to her. Just you wait. I can make you want to rip out your own eyeballs, you hear me? DO YOU?!" Rosello had let out a shriek and Hoffman nodded firmly. "I'm not cheating the system. I am the system."

With a wave of his hand, some of the bigger guys behind the boss came around and proceeded to punch Hoffman in the face. Another threw a fist deep into his lower gut.

The taste of blood and bile rose up onto his tongue. He lurched forward and fell to the concrete. Leathered shoes stabbed into his ribs and knuckles hailed onto every inch of flesh he had. The beating continued for what felt like hours. He knew it was likely just minutes.

He was dizzy. Nauseous. And everything hurt. But he wasn't done yet.

Rosello's feet crunched on ice and gravel and the big man squatted over him. "I want their names, Markie-boy. Soon. You work too slow? You give me shit? You better just pucker up and blow your gun."

He heard retreating footsteps, the start of engines, and the friction of rubber on asphalt fade away. He was so cold.

But more than anything. He was angry.

Peter Acomb

Peter was vacuuming up the living room when he heard the phone ring.

"Can you get that, Peter?" Angie's voice called out from the kitchen. She was currently making macaroni and cheese. His favorite.

"Yeah!" Peter rubbed his dusty hands on his apron before picking up the handset. "Hello?"

"Pete." A deep male's voice. One that made Peter snap into attention.

"Mark! Hi! Want to talk to Angie?"

"No. You." He was breathing hard and sounded like he was in pain.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just listen. I want you to take Angie and get out of town. Now. Get your gun. And just go. Don't tell anyone."

"Mark, what-,"

"Peter. You're going to marry my sister. That means you need to protect her with your life. You understand me?"

"Of course, Mark. You know I'd do anything for her."

"Good. I know. Look. I've pissed off some bad people. And they've threatened you two. And they mean it."

His heart stopped and his hand began to tremble. The plastic was vibrating against the meat of his ear. "Can't you - get a squad car or maybe we can call the police?" He hated how his voice went high pitched like that. He knew Mark must have thought him weak. Scared. But he couldn't help it.

"Pete. I am the police. And we're no good. You understand?"

"Where should we go?"

"Out of the city. As far as you can go. Somewhere no one would guess. But I can't know. Just get out of town for a while. Don't call for a couple of weeks. You hear me? Hell, don't even call me." He sounded weary and defeated. A tired man who had already lost everything.

"What?!"

"Tell Ange to call Will. And not for at least a month. I know it's last minute. I know she may lose her job. But it's an emergency. You need to get out of town tonight. You hear me?"

"You need to talk to Angie."

"Yeah. I know. Put her on. And while she's on the phone, pack. I mean it, Pete. Now."

Pete dropped the phone. "Ange!" He had panic in his voice as he sprinted to the kitchen.

"What's wrong?!" Angie came out, face shining from kitchen labor and mildly concerned. "Are you hurt?"

"Mark. Phone. We need to go!" His mind was running a million miles an hour. He was already halfway to the master bedroom, tripping over the carpet and falling on his face.

"Peter!" Angie went to him but he held his hands up.

"Talk to Mark! Oh my God!" He was in the master bedroom when he heard Angie.

"Mark! What in the worl-" and "Slow down!" morphed into, "You can't be fucking serious. No. I will not. I don't care."

Peter was hunched over their bed, two suitcases open with random clothes piled over each. He turned to the doorway when he heard more of Angie's ruminations.

"You listen here, Mark, I will not just uproot my life, especially if you won't tell me the details. I don't care. Oh, I'm sure they're so scary but I will not let some thugs tell me how to live my life. No, you listen. I said-," a pause, then, "HOW DARE YOU RAISE YOUR VOICE TO ME! MOM WOULD BE SO DISAPPOINTED IN YOU!"

Oh no, Peter sprinted back to the living room. He saw Angie slamming her fist on the end table where the phone rested, grabbed the telephone firmly in her hand with enough force that the small bell in it chirped pitifully and she paced and smacked the phone against the wall.

That Hoffman rage though, Peter rarely saw Angelina angry, but when she was, there were usually broken pieces he'd have to glue together of something that he used to like. Veins were bulging up her neck and her cheeks were scarlet. She stopped and glared at Peter.

"Don't you fucking dare pack anything. We are staying. I have too much shit going on right now to just leave. Okay?" Her voice was so high pitched that Peter thought it was akin to nails on a chalkboard.

He put both hands up. "Yeah! Yeah! Whatever you say, Angie. Just-," he wanted to reach up and take the phone from her claws but she hissed at him when he approached. He jumped back. "I'll just unpack everything!"

Angie was his Queen. But sometimes, she was just downright scary.