A/N: Finally fell to the COVID monster. At least that means more time to write~
Wilhelmina Maddox
"I dreamed of Frank. We were on our honeymoon, taking a walk on the beach. But when I turned around, he was far away. In the water. I called out to him but he was so far away. He was drowning. I tried to go to him but the waves kept pushing me back. When I woke up, I reached over to feel for him. And then I remembered." Will sighed through blurry vision as she swiped at the nearby tissue box to dab the new tears that seemed to continuously appear at the corner of her eyes.
"That must have been hard," Peter Strahm leaned into her, elbows on his thighs. "How often have you been dreaming of him?"
"Almost every night since he died." She looked out the window of his office, the distant sky dark and stormy. "I know I should move on. I need to. But every time I close my eyes, I see him."
"You can't force yourself to just forget the man you spent years with. No matter what you think you should be doing, you can't deny your feelings. The sooner you accept them the sooner you can confront your pain and heal from it."
"It's been months since I decided to leave Frank."
"He only died weeks ago, you only being allowed to put him to rest recently. It's understandable to have unresolved pain. It could take years to move on from the separation. Don't have expectations. Just take things one day at a time."
She nodded. "Yeah. You're right." She sniffled and blew her nose. "Thanks for seeing me. I know it was short notice."
"Any time. I appreciate you coming to me with this. I assure you, it's no inconvenience." Strahm smile warmly. "As you know, work's been slow."
"Right? It's so frustrating. Work helped me not think about life going to shit. But all this waiting around has been driving me up the wall."
"This is not necessarily a bad thing. Try to take this time to work on yourself. Maybe take some leave. After the funeral."
She tried to smile back but it felt forced. "Yeah. Maybe I should."
"It's tomorrow?"
"Yes." She swallowed and shuttered, "Our relatives are flying in from California. I - I haven't told his parents too many details. I wasn't sure how to. They only know he was murdered. But they think it was quick and painless."
"Gentle lies are a mercy. When the crime goes to trial, they can learn the sad truth."
"If it goes to trial."
Strahm nodded in sympathy. "I'd be happy to accompany you, if it would make it easier."
"I may just take you up on that offer." She nodded. "If it's no trouble."
"No trouble at all."
"Thank you. You've been so helpful." She felt a twinge of guilt, turning to this man she had only known for a few months for consolation and comfort instead of her closest friends. But Peter Strahm had never judged her. Never expressed any strong opinion on what she should or should not do.
Kerry, despite her good intentions, was clearly glad that Frank was gone. It had been obvious in how she grimaced whenever Will wanted to talk about him.
And Hoffman. Hoffman was so much worse when it came to listening about her ruminating about her late husband.
Peter Strahm had been the only person in her life that actually listened and made her feel a little better after every conversation. That was something she needed.
But this was something she wouldn't brag about, especially not to her partner. It was clear he didn't like Peter Strahm and she didn't want any problems over this.
"Has your friends and family been there for you? I'm not trying to push you out, but I figured you'd find more friendly support with familiar faces."
"Well, my only family is my dad and brother. Dad's… not able to help right now. Bram is flying in, though. But he's my younger brother. Usually," she felt the faintest smile crack across her cheek for the first time in days, "I'm the one that helps him out."
Strahm nodded, always the active listener, "You're only human, Will. Got to let the people around you help out once in a while." He had leaned in closer to her, putting a hand gently over her clasped fingers.
She blinked up at him, feeling her cheeks flush warm from the proximity between their faces. She pulled her hands from his, her skin tingling from his touch. "I need to head out." She jumped to her feet, forcing Strahm to lean back into his chair as she rose from the couch. "I'll see you at work?"
He nodded, appearing unphased by her fluster. "Tomorrow. I'll come by your place in the morning, before the funeral."
"Okay," she felt rushed and eager to leave. She couldn't get out of the door fast enough, limping to the elevator to then catch her breath. Maybe she misjudged Peter Strahm after all.
Eric Matthews
"Ally!" Matthews grabbed her arm, his cigarette falling out of his mouth. "Can you just - wait one minute so I can explain?"
"I'm sure you'll need more than a minute." She hissed icily. They were outside, the sun had long set and the street lights were not on yet.
"So what's it going to be? You just going to hate me until the end of time?" He had hoped she would have gotten over it by then. It had been over a month now but it only seemed to snowball into one hell of an avalanche.
He'd never seen Ally so angry. And with him, nonetheless.
"Eric, I know what the risks are with this job. You have no right to get in my way."
"I do." Eric kept his grip on her arm, missing her touch. "I do have a right to protect the woman I love."
"Oh, fuck off, Eric," her voice cracked. "You don't. You only love yourself."
"You don't mean that."
"Tell that to Jane and Daniel. To me."
"You can love more than one person, Ally. I'm sure you know that." Eric looked into her eyes, daring her to deny it. "I know about you and Perez. And I know I have no right on being jealous about that. I'm not doing this to spite you for finding comfort elsewhere. Though, I admit, it's really hot." He dodged a slap from her, limboing backward quick, and added, "But when it comes to your safety, I will do everything I can to keep you out of harm's way. Whether you like it or not." He squeezed her arm tighter.
She tried to wrench her arm away but he held on. She bared her teeth in a snarl. "Asshole."
He smirked and gave her a kiss, which she proceeded to return with a backhanded slap across his cheek. She hit her mark this time. He finally released her, touching the sting with newfound respect. "Does this mean we're forgiven?"
"Not even close," Kerry snapped. "The only way you're going to make this up is if you get Will and me back in the field. Or I'll tell Jane what we've done."
He felt his jaw drop open. "You wouldn't."
"Wouldn't I? Jane's going to the bridal shower. And she'll be at the bachelorette party." Rage and intent were all that he saw when he studied her.
"You're not a petty bitch, Ally."
"Don't make me a petty bitch, Eric," she jabbed a finger into his chest. "And next time, ask before you go and try to bench me in my career. Or this," she pointed at herself and him, "will never happen again."
"You're not thinking clearly."
"Don't be condescending. I know exactly what I'm doing. I always have, even when I fucked you the first time and every time after. But now, you've overstepped your bounds. You're coming after the one thing I have. Literally, the only thing that's actually mine. You fuck with my career again, I will end you." He didn't believe her. He couldn't believe her.
And yet, there they were, at a bridge that was already showing signs of burning. But he wasn't ready to let her go. Despite her skepticism, he did love her. They had survived worse together. She was his partner.
He studied her face, searching for a sign as to where everything went wrong. Ally, never one to be much of a crier, had the faintest signs of it in her eyes. Though her face was straight and her expression cool, he could feel the pain there. This was a cry for help. He needed to take heed.
"All right. I'll listen. I'm sorry." He hated apologizing. But she wouldn't back down. And he just wanted her to stop hating him. "I'll talk to Tapp. I'll get you both out there." He bit his lip. "I - I just don't want anything to happen to you."
"That's your problem," she left him, the heels of her shoes echoing behind her.
Alone, Eric quietly took out his pack of cigarettes from his inside jacket pocket. He put a fresh one in his mouth, lit it, and took a long drag. One step at a time, he forced himself to take a walk down the block.
His mind was reeling. His heart was pounding in his ear. He needed to hit something. He wanted to scream.
"Spare change?" A croak called from his side. He jumped and turned to see a filthy bum who reached a dirt-caked hand onto his suit, gripping the fabric. He could see the grease stains that would never get out now. "You have any change, mister?"
He blinked, wondering what happened next. His fist throbbed. He was hunched over a piss-covered corner, looking down at the mangled and bloody face of some bearded old man who was moaning and wheezing underneath him.
Fuck. His fist was trembling and his head was pounding.
The pitiful moans of the man filled his mind.
Eric Matthews walked as fast as he could away from the scene. Soon, his swift stride broke into a brisk sprint as he ran. He ran until he physically couldn't any longer, collapsing in the street, panting and coughing.
It began to snow.
Steven Sing
It was a clear day. The sun helped warm the patrons draped in black, surrounded by white and soothing-colored flowers. Sing was surprised by how many people had come to Frank Griffin's funeral.
It seemed, despite all the terrible stories, the man had apparently mattered enough to people that they came from across the country just to see him put in the ground. He noticed the lack of tears, though, and wondered if it was another reason beyond love that brought the majority of attendees to the event. Only Will and what appeared to be Frank's mother were weeping and holding each other throughout the day.
The closed casket during the wake had attracted curious murmurs. Almost everyone who knew Will Maddox had attended and many unfamiliar faces more.
One notable absentee was Mark Hoffman, which didn't surprise Sing at all. Hoffman had made it clear he never cared for the man. What surprised Sing was seeing Peter Strahm present as Will's shadow, a hand on her shoulder, and stepping in to exchange words with those that offered the usual words of comfort to the surviving family. Odd.
Allison Kerry and Eric Matthews had stayed back, looking out from afar. It looked like the two of them had made their peace. It was a relief, considering the awkward conversations Sing tried to have involving the two of them.
Tapp elbowed Sing, prompting him to casually scan the area. In the distance, leaning against a black sedan, looked like Daniel Rigg. He wondered what he was doing there, not aware that the rookie had any interactions with Frank or Will for that matter.
"He's close to Hoffman," Tapp muttered and that explained everything.
The ceremony ended with the lowering of the casket and bagpipes bellowing Amazing Grace. Will and Mrs. Griffin continued to weep and upon completion of the ballad, the crowd dispersed.
Bram Maddox, Will's younger brother, came up to take Will back to the car. Mr. Griffin appeared to pull Mrs. Griffin away from Will, taking the grieving mother away. There seemed to be no love lost between Mr. Griffin and Will, a notable squint and frown tossed over from Bram.
"Go talk to Rigg, Sing," Tapp, always the vigilant one with his mind on the task at hand, added, "I'll walk around. See if there's anything interesting going on."
By interesting, he meant Rosello related. Sing nodded, already dreading the awkward conversation they would likely have. He barely spoke to Daniel Rigg, not particularly impressed with the guy's hot-headed impulses. He's like a baby Hoffman, and the thought made him shudder. Cautiously, he approached with a disarming grin, walking around the tombstones.
Rigg nodded back, arms folded across his broad chest. "'Sup, Sing."
"Hey, Rigg. Didn't know you were acquainted with Frank Griffin."
"I wasn't. Just here for Maddox."
"I'm sure she'll appreciate that. You want to catch her before she drives off?" Sing looked over his shoulder, noting the idling car and two siblings through the glare of the windshield.
Rigg's head shook quickly. "No. Best to let her be. I'm just making sure she's safe."
Sing noticed Rigg didn't have his badge in view, though his gun was attached to his hip. "Off-duty?"
Rigg swallowed and looked away. "Yeah." He wouldn't volunteer any further information but Sing could connect the dots.
"I'm surprised I haven't seen Hoffman around." Sing leaned lazily against the car beside Rigg. "You talk to him lately?"
Rigg gave him a sidelong glance, the silence revealing everything.
The two of them stood at a verbal standoff until the last of the procession dispersed, red taillights shrinking in the distance. "Well," Sing pushed off the car, "send Rosello my regards."
"Fuck you," Rigg spat as Sing walked away. He didn't bother to look back.
Mark Hoffman
"Nothing out of the ordinary. Her brother's in town. Looks like he's still in college. And her in-laws didn't stick around, they left pretty quick." Rigg took a swig of his beer. "Oh, and she's been heading uptown to talk to those agents. I notice she'd grab a bite to eat with the guy. And get this-Strahm-he was also at the funeral."
Hoffman didn't care for the sympathy Rigg was giving him, opting to stare at the TV over the shelves of liquor and letting the bartender refresh his glass of scotch. "You know what for?"
"Looked like he was being moral support or whatever you call it. Seemed PG, though I wouldn't put it past the bastard to try to move in on the grieving widow. Never saw Maddox so upset."
Hoffman shook his head. She'll get over it. But this Strahm guy just kept appearing and invading his territory. He'd need to keep tabs on the asshole. On the bright side, tailing the fed wouldn't step on Rosello's toes. If anything, it would be the perfect cover, especially now that he was back on the mobster's shitlist.
Speaking of. "I've got to go." He threw some cash on the bar and gripped his comrade's shoulder. "Good work."
"Yeah," Rigg returned the contact, squeezing his fingers briefly before releasing, "Anytime, Hoffman."
The night air felt damp, surprisingly warm for the time of year. He drove with the windows down, smelling rain in the air as he mentally prepared for his meeting with Toni Rosello. Images of his stalker from last week flooded his vision and the faintest grip of fear squeezed his heart when he thought of what would happen with Will if he slipped up that night.
There was no room for error. Absolutely none.
The estate, with its tall bricks and dead ivy, towered over him like a guillotine. Men with rifles across their chests nodded in his direction as he passed the gate and various checkpoints. He pulled onto the large gravel road, parking close to the front steps.
Olaf was waiting for him, opening the front doors and standing with hands clasped behind him. Hoffman half-expected the ogre to be hiding a weapon but walked by him calmly, barely paying the man any mind.
Show no fear. Show no weakness.
The smell of cigar smoke was a familiar stench and once Hoffman reached Rosello's office there was the usual gray haze that stung his eyes. "Mr. Rosello."
"Markie-boy," Flicking ash in a crystal tray, Rosello gestured to the seat across from his desk.
The sudden clang and the piping of a cuckoo clock forced Hoffman to turn his head. "That's new."
"A gift from Mario's brother. Zietta didn't take it very well, the death of her youngest son and all. But Mario's brother, Lorenzo, is happy as pie. But now I've got to be on my best behavior. Drives me crazy but at some point, the relatives are coming in and got to show off the gifts. You know how it is."
He nodded, though he had no fucking idea what the hell he was going on about. He clasped his hands together, intertwining his fingers as he patiently stared at the mob boss to get to the point.
Rosello had a twinkling in his eye and a sly pull of the cheek. "Tell me, Markie-boy, what's your deal with Red? I've been trying to figure it out for a while."
"Didn't know it was that important to you," Hoffman lied, "We're partners."
"Haven't been working cases together in a while."
"That's because of this arrangement, as you're aware."
Rosello nodded, "I get you boys in blue sure have a hard-on for your 'partners'," he fingered quotation marks, "but let's be honest. You and her are more than that."
Hoffman resisted the urge to clear his throat. "We're close."
"As close as you are with your sister?"
The room became a void. He finally cleared his throat. "You mentioned that you would keep my sister out of this. After what happened with Mario."
"Oh, I haven't forgotten," Rosello scratched his jowl, thoughtful. "You see, every so often, I like you, Markie. You do what you're told. You've got talents. But you're one bull-headed prick at times. I know you're just waiting for your chance to end me like Julius Caesar." The shark-like dullness returned to his black eyes. "So I need some incentive to keep you behaved. You understand."
Hoffman squeezed his teeth together, slowly. "Are you going back on your word, Mr. Rosello?" He spoke carefully but couldn't help let the growing rage seep into his words.
"No, not at all. But I'm simply warning you that my offer for immunity only extends to just one person. I'm giving you a chance to change your mind, that is, if you're particularly attached to Red. You see," he let out an almost shy giggle, "now that she's available due to the tragic loss of her late husband," he snickered as if they shared an inside joke, "I intend to make my move."
A migraine was starting to puncture through Hoffman's temples. "You can't just kill her." He meant it as a command but it came out like a plea. He hated how his vocal cords failed him.
"Kill her? Oh no," Rosello roared in laughter, "I don't plan on hurting a hair on her pretty little head. You see, it's time I've settled down. That whole fiasco with Mario has angered some of my elders, and now," he waved his cigar back and forth, scattering ember and dust around his desk, "I'm in the doghouse, you see? Zietta says it's because I haven't been married yet and -,"
"You expect Will Maddox to marry you?" He would have laughed if he had been a weaker man.
"Perhaps. I admit, she's a looker. Wouldn't mind waking up to that every morning. Tell me, she good in the sack?"
He rose to his feet before he could stop himself, breathing hard. He stopped himself from lunging across the desk but remained standing.
"So there it is," Rosello nodded, satisfied, and a gun was pulled from under the desk. "There's the truth. Sit down, boy."
Hoffman ran his fingers through his hair and adjusted his suit jacket before returning to his seat. He felt his neck throb in rhythm with his racing heart.
"I'm sure you know I've been having you followed, Markie-boy. But I kept my word. Angelina has been undisturbed since you saved my life. And I am grateful for that. So, make your choice. Your sister or your partner. But not both. Whoever you choose, I'll be just a bad dream to them. But the other, I intend to give my undivided attention."
"You really expect me to let you just make another victim out of either of them?"
Rosello shrugged. "That's their problem. I usually don't - end - my romantic relationships unless it's well deserved. And they're both adults. They'll know what they're getting into."
"Neither would ever seriously date you. Never."
"I can be quite persuasive." Rosello smiled but kept the gun trained on Hoffman. "You know, I already know who you're going to let me have. Because your kid sister? Not my type. Too soft. Too weak."
"Don't talk about her. You have no right."
"The guy with the gun has any right they want." A blast exploded making Hoffman jump and his ears rang that high-pitched hum he knew would eventually just not go away. A steaming hole by his left foot made him almost lose his bladder control.
"You're nuts."
"Uh, doi?" Rosello's hyena giggles began. "But it's your fault, making all this fun for me. You should see the look on your face, you're scared shitless!" The man started howling and Hoffman had to just sit there. "So. Back to business. Will or Angie. Who's getting immunity?" He cocked the gun and retrained it back to Hoffman.
He looked down at his hands. Will or Angie? Their faces alternated in his mind. But it was a no-brainer. "My sister. I still want you to stay away from her."
"Family first, eh? I respect that."
"You hypocritical little shit." The door opened behind them and Rosello looked visibly startled. "Zietta! I thought you weren't arriving until tomorrow."
"Toni," An older woman drawled out, sounding mocking and disdainful, "I decided it was best to arrive as early as possible to fix all the damage you've done. It's clear I am too late, again. Is this how we treat our guests? Pointing and shooting guns like a lunatic?"
Hoffman turned to face the intruder, seeing a short woman with salt and pepper hair and the same dead shark eyes as Rosello. "You must be the man that saved my nephew's life and helped kill my son." All he could do was watch as she walked across the room and stood beside Rosello behind his desk. She held her hand out and with a childish pout, Toni Rosello surrendered the gun. "You'll have to forgive my nephew. He was kicked in the head by a horse when he was a toddler."
"I'm right here, zietta."
"And you will keep your mouth shut," the woman whirled and looked down at him, her voice a polar vortex. "Remember that your father has given me complete guardianship over your business and wellbeing and you will behave yourself if you value what little freedom you have left." Toni Rosello stared down at the desk, looking furious.
"If I've overstayed my welcome, I'll take my leave," Hoffman wanted nothing more than to get away from whatever freakshow this was but the woman raised a hand.
"No, Mr. Hoffman, you will stay. As one of Toni's people, you will answer to me as well. And you will be happy to know that I am a much more reasonable employer." She opened the chamber of the gun and let the bullets fall to the floor, completely disassembling the weapon. She dropped the pieces on the table with ease. "I will keep my nephew in line. And so long as you and your people serve my family well, no harm will fall upon them."
Optimism was blossoming in his chest, relieving. "Will Maddox is off-limits as well as my sister."
"And what incentive are you offering us to make this deal?"
He tried to think. "I will continue to work for you."
She raised an eyebrow. "You believe you can just walk away?"
"I believe no matter what I do, I'm screwed either way. The only reason I'm dealing with you people is to protect those I care for. But you bringing them into your shit loses any motivation I have to do a good job by you."
She nodded. "My nephew had only good things to say about you."
It was his turn to be skeptical. "Is that so?"
"Indeed. It seems you're the sole reason he has been avoiding conviction and prison for many years."
He closed his eyes and took a slow breath. "I see."
"I understand your reservations on surrendering someone you know personally to an oaf like my Toni here," she put a hand on the back of the big man's shoulders, rubbing it almost lovingly, "but I assure you that he will not be treating her like… the others. You have my word."
"Not to be disrespectful, but your word means nothing to me."
She finally smiled and she would have been almost pretty if they had been talking about something a little more mundane. "Toni agreed to settle down so long as he can have one thing. And his father was never one to refuse to spoil his son. Toni wants to marry this - what's her name?"
"Wilhelmina Maddox," Toni grinned like a kid on Santa's lap while keeping his eyes trained on Hoffman.
She nodded. "Yes, this Wilhelmina."
"I'm having a hard time understanding - why do you care? Toni killed your son. Kind of strange playing matchmaker."
The woman rounded the desk and stood beside Hoffman, cocking her head to the side. "You don't understand why?" She put a hand on his chin and the other on his cheek, running her dry cold hands over his stubble.
"Care to explain?"
"Toni killed Mario, my youngest. And Mario, though I loved him, was a liability to the family business. For the good of the family, his death did not hurt us. In fact, it aided us." She sniffled and there was the faintest glimmer of a tear running down her cheek. "But blood for blood. I demanded it and Don Rosello promised he would compensate me justly." She knelt down and her fingernails began digging into the meaty flesh of Hoffman's neck. He suppressed the urge to choke. "I want a son in exchange for losing Mario. And I want those responsible to lose someone they love. To give pain and to receive solace. For Toni, it was hard to come up with his punishment. He is incapable of loving anyone beyond himself. But this business will be enough. And, one day, a piece of him, his own flesh and blood, will be mine. A child to replace my Mario. And for you?"
Hoffman's eyes widened as she moved closer, her nose grazing his. "I didn't kill Mario,"he whispered.
"Yet you aided the man that did. Your hands are covered in Mario's blood. I blame you. So I want someone you love taken away from you. I want their blood to become my blood. Toni tells me you only love two people. And you have put your shield over your sister. Which means that the other will be my prize."
"Sorry, Markie-boy," Toni Rosello shrugged as if he merely stepped on his shoe. "But whatever orders the big man gives, I've got to follow. I need to find a pretty bride. Have some kids. Leave my zietta to deal with the business in this city until I fall back in good graces with Papa. Those are the rules."
The room was beginning to spin. He felt dizzy and sick. "Jesus."
"You understand? Good." Zietta Rosello released her grip on Hoffman's neck. "Do not get in our way, if you want your precious Angelina untouched." She sighed. "Perhaps, allowing this rabid dog off his leash for too long was partially our fault. But that will not absolve you of your part."
He just had to work for this family of psychopaths. Hoffman buried his hands in his face, finally overwhelmed by the sheer inability to change this situation. He had tried to keep his head above the water. To keep Angelina safe. It had been simple back then. But he went and got himself attached to someone else and now it was Will's turn to play lamb to the slaughter.
But Will's a survivor. He lifted his head, carefully examining the vacant faces of the Rosello relatives. Will wouldn't just let any of this go down. No, she'd find a way to put these bastards away. He hated to admit it, but Toni Rosello had been right: Angelina was too meek and submissive. She couldn't take care of herself, not entirely. She needed his protection and he'd happily give it forever. But Will? He had faith that if anyone could take down these psychopaths, it would be her. He trusted her.
"I understand." He suppressed a cruel smile. "I won't stop you going after Will Maddox."
