Author's Note: Hope you all have a wonderful Valentine's Day weekend!
Mark Hoffman
He wondered where his morning went wrong.
He had rolled out of bed. Shaved. Changed. And decided a good detour to his favorite cafe was just the treat he needed.
How the hell did that lead to him behind the counter trying to calm the shrieking barista with purple hair as some wingnut shot rounds in the air. Idiot's already down one magazine. He wondered how much ammunition the fuck carried. It sounded like a lot.
Another problem was that an officer was currently clutching a bullet hole in his chest, trying not to die as he grew paler. Hoffman had shoved as many towels into and onto the puncture, pushing the packing down with as much pressure as the rookie could handle. "Am I going to die?" The guy asked with shaking fingers. "I feel cold."
"You're not going to die," he growled before turning to the college kid with the colorful hair. "Hey. Come here and hold this down. Don't let him bleed out." The woman was crying but thankfully crawled over to hold the crimson-stained rags.
Hoffman didn't recognize the downed officer. He barely looked out of high school. The boy's face was contorted with terrible pain and absolute terror. Hoffman forced himself to compartmentalize. He needed to get these people out of here.
To complicate things, the guy had another hostage. A kid. Little girl was crying for her Dad.
This was not the kind of morning Hoffman had been ready for. He was just sad he didn't get at least one sip of his espresso that now puddled on the floor a few feet away. Not that he wasn't wide awake now from sheer adrenaline alone. He took in a deep breath and waited for the man to reload.
Distant sirens sounded, a godsend chorus. He just needed to buy more time and keep everyone else alive.
He rose from behind the counter and pointed the weapon directly at the man. "Let's calm down."
The guy brought way too much firepower for the situation, his fumbling with his giant gun and his poor coordination gave Hoffman, the more experienced gunfighter, a chance to grab the upper hand. With a frustrated snarl, the perpetrator threw down his semiautomatic and proceeded to pull a knife and press it to the kid's neck. The girl looked no older than kindergarten.
"You don't want to hurt her. Let's talk this through."
"Back off!" The man screamed. "This is my daughter and I'm taking her with me."
Of course she is. Hoffman looked at the girl and the corpse at her feet. The woman had a similar hair color to the kid but was very much dead. "Let me guess. Bad divorce?"
"She took everything. I'm just taking back what's mine." The man's eyes were wild and his lips trembled, looking all around for boogeymen and danger.
"What's your name?" Hoffman was never good at hostage situations, wishing Will was there to smooth this mess over.
"Nick."
"Well, Nick, why don't you let your kid go? She's scared."
"Because that bitch brainwashed her. Told her I was no good." He was breathless but squeezed his grip tighter on her. "I'm not gonna let her get taken from me."
"What's her name?"
"Suzy. Her name is Suzy."
"Nick, if we can get through this with no more deaths, I'll personally make sure you and Suzy don't get separated."
The little girl hiccuped, tears streaming down her cheeks. She didn't look particularly interested in being stuck with a father who would put a knife to her neck and kill her mother. But he had to say something to get the bastard to let her go. Just outside the coffee shop, the screeching of tires and the shouts of men filled the air.
Nick swore, spinning his head around and backing up with Suzy in tow. "I know I've gone too far. I just lost it. She was moving to Canada. She was going to take Suzy!" The man was shaking.
"Well, it looks like there's a change of plans." Hoffman kept looking down his sights.
The man's eyes shined and he let out a hysterical laugh. "Yeah. There is."
"But let's try to think about Suzy. Don't you think you're scaring her?"
"She just doesn't know me anymore. But she will." The girl whimpered, which merely earned herself a sharp jerk from Nick who had grabbed the side of her collar and shook her around.
"Shut up! I'm not going to hurt you!"
"Nick, how about you cool it with being so rough with her. You're only making things worse. I'm sure she loves you. Don't you, Suzy?"
The girl shook her head quickly and Hoffman would have laughed if the situation was not so dire. The father grabbed her by the hair and jerked her small head back, her neck exposed even more.
Anger flared up and out of him. He clicked the safety off and had his finger caressing the trigger. "Cool it, Nick. What you're showing her right now isn't any good. It doesn't look like she's understanding the situation. How old is she?"
"Six."
"Imagine how confusing this whole situation is for a six-year-old?"
The man snapped, "This whole situation is confusing for anyone!"
Well, he's right on that. Hoffman backpedaled, "I'm a cop. I can make sure this whole mess gets taken care of."
The man blinked. "Cops are liars."
"Not all of them," Hoffman lied, "But if you go through with this and hurt Suzy? There won't be anything I can do. And you don't want to look back on this day, regretting you did anything different yeah?"
The man bowed his head, sobbing. "It's too late."
Hoffman had lost him. This guy wasn't going to be rationalized with and he wasn't going to bother trying anymore. It was going to waste time and end up with another dead kid. He had to come up with a Plan B and fast. One of his guys was bleeding out and needed an ambulance pronto. Searching around, he noticed the man was standing on what looked like a mix of coffee, creamer, and blood.
What he needed was to get that sharpened steel away from the girl's throat. He, having the gun trained on the man's head, would be able to make the shot but didn't want the kid to end up with a scar or worse, bleed out before the paramedics made it.
He needed to distract the guy somehow. Or at least get a clean shot of the back of his brain stem. If he hit the spot just right, the guy would die standing, with no muscle spasms to make him do any more damage.
"COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP," The amplified voice of what Hoffman assumed was Detective Willis, called out behind him from the street.
Nick shook his head. "I'm not coming out. You. Tell them I want a car and all of those fucks to back up a block."
Hoffman nodded. "Sure. But I want to talk to Suzy."
"Fuck off."
"Suzy?" Hoffman was starting to doubt this guy would actually slit his kid's throat but he remained delicate with the situation. "You ever go on the swings?"
The girl nodded, confusion eclipsing her fear.
"If you hear a large bang, I want you to pretend you're trying to make the swing go forward. Kick with both legs. You got me?"
"What - what the fuck are you talking about?" Nick's voice became shrill.
"It's all right," he pretended to talk to someone behind him. "I've got this under control."
The man spun around, pulling Suzy with him.
Hoffman only had a handful of seconds with a clear view of Nick's back.
He made the shot.
An explosion of blood and brains flew outward and what was left of the man slumped to the side.
A little girl's screams were drowned out by the sound of the sirens of backup. But screams were good. Screams meant her throat wasn't cut.
Hoffman rushed towards her, picking up her tiny form and pulling her away from the man, pulling her face to his chest to block the sight of gore. She doesn't need to see any of that.
David Tapp
When David Tapp was examining the blueprints to the Rosello Estate, a ruckus outside made him pause from his study. He wondered what those rookies were doing that got them so excited but his curiosity got the best of him. He went out to investigate.
It looked like a good ol' party that he wasn't invited to. He recognized Matthews and Kerry as they talked with smiles on their faces among the throngs of uniforms and detectives.
Mark Hoffman was getting pats on the back and smiles from faces belonging to conscientious objectors to the Mark Hoffman Fan Club.
Sing was on the outskirts of the crowd, arms folded as he leaned against a desk.
"What'd I miss," Tapp asked, looking on as Matthews came over and threw an arm around Hoffman's shoulders, pulling him into a chokehold as the two began horsing around like they were ten years younger.
"Hostage situation. No dead cops, though plenty of dead civilians. Saved a little girl. It's a news circus right now but he made all of us look real good. You should see Grissom, he's practically skipping. There's even talk about Hoffman getting a promotion."
"It's bullshit," Gibson called out, joining their conversation. He stared glumly at the celebration. "Hoffman probably shot first."
"How's that IA investigation going?" Sing, too, kept his eyes trained on Hoffman with skepticism.
"Apparently, the IA found nothing wrong with Hoffman's performance. In fact, there's Brookers over there." Gibson nodded towards the head of Internal Affairs, who seemed ready to kiss Mark Hoffman, though instead gave him a one-armed hug.
"It's how it is," Tapp grumbled.
Will Maddox came up, all smiles and starry-eyed. They all watched as she shamelessly threw her arms around Hoffman and planted a kiss on his neck with the erupted "oohs" from the onlookers.
"It's wrong," Gibson shook his head, voice thick with emotion. "IA ain't doing their job."
"Sorry," Sing shared sympathy, though Tapp knew he had been warned. "Maybe next time."
"People like Hoffman can't be allowed to get away with this. It's not right."
"Well, you can always try to transfer to IA. Sounds like that's more your speed," Sing smirked.
"Yeah. You know, maybe I will."
Tapp and Sing exchanged glances. "How about wait until Rosello's put away, rookie," Tapp decided now was the time to get back to work. He had seen enough.
Mark Hoffman
Detective Sergeant Hoffman had a nice ring to it.
"You did good, Hoffman. Damn good." Grissom was beaming, a rare sight in his presence. He opened his cigar case. "Want to celebrate?" He went to pick up one of the hand rolled logs but Hoffman shook his head.
"Not a smoker." He kept his face smooth and friendly but just the idea of the smell made him want to punch the wall. He was sick of cigars and the smell of them.
"Well, feel free to take the rest of the day off. Tell your sister about your new promotion. We'll have a ceremony Friday."
"Thank you, sir," he felt like it was a dream. He never thought he'd finally make the next rank. Not after everything he had done.
"We're thinking of putting you up in one of the offices upstairs." Grissom rubbed his nose with a sobered frown. "Once all this Rosello business gets sorted, that is."
"I understand." Hoffman looked down at the shiny temp badge, the brass all glossy and new. A spur of guilt burrowing into his chest.
"Maybe you and Maddox can share the eastside room. She's up for promotion as well." Hoffman felt Grissom's eyes on him, dissecting him.
He kept his face blank but he knew what this sudden fascination was about. She just had to go and kiss me in front of the entire department. He tried to feel nothing but indignation yet his ears heated up as he recalled how thrilling it was, feeling her soft lips on his skin. The act had staked its claim for all to see. Everyone now knew that she and him were something - whatever something was - and sent a clear message.
She was his.
Hell, if all he had to do was rescue kids from estranged fathers to get some more of that attention, he'd start camping out in front of a divorce attorney's office.
"Hoffman? You deaf?"
He blinked. "That'll be fine. We're used to sharing space."
Knowing amusement twinkled behind thick spectacles. "Funny. A couple years ago, you'd be bitching about how you don't share with anyone." After some silence, Grissom shrugged. "Well, how about you figure out a way out of this mess you're in soon. That way we can all move on and get some control on the city again. Maybe this new year we'll finally not look like a gang of idiots."
"I'll figure it out," he promised. "Need anything else?" Dismissing himself, he left the office to suddenly get blindsided by a sharp jab in his left arm. He turned and looked down at the freckled cheeks surrounded by red curls. "What?"
"So? What's the news?" She was vibrating with excited energy and she practically jumped when she saw the brass shining back at her. "You got it! Oh! Congrats!" She pushed him again, the sudden physical contact shocking him to move slightly.
"You're going to give me a bruise."
"If you think I'm the one that's going to bruise, you have another thing coming." She shook her head. "Hopefully your chest's healed up before you wear it."
"Doubt anyone's going to try to smack the badge into me. I never got that sort of treatment before." He knew she was referring to an old tradition where the badge would be hit against the wearer upon their first few days of being promoted. It just wasn't something they did at the Metropolitan Police Department. "And you've already used up all your punches."
She playfully pouted, folding her arms. "Well at least let me buy you dinner."
He raised an eyebrow. "What's changed? I thought we needed to keep our distance." As he spoke he looked behind her, noticing two men from Narcotics glancing their way before turning their heads sharply.
She followed his gaze. "I'll tell you over dinner."
"That sounds ominous."
She squinted up at him. "Well, I know you're not going to like it. But I'm hoping you'll be bought off with food and drink."
"What's my limit?"
"None."
"Now I know I'm not going to like it." He folded his arms. "What is it?"
She sighed and tried to pull his forearms back down. "Just - let's go. Name your place. Somewhere quiet will probably be best though."
"And what if we're followed?"
"It's not like anything I'll tell you will be new to Rosello."
"Goddamn it."
(Power of Will)
He opted for Angie's restaurant. Normally too pricey for his tastes, he figured whatever bad news Will was about to throw at him, it couldn't be the end of the world if he was eating his sister's cooking.
Will and him sat at a table by the wall, far from the windows but with a decent vantage point. The cost of the beer alone made him want to weep for the common folk. But hell, she said no limit, so he opted for some top shelf scotch. She didn't even raise an eyebrow.
Her lack of jibe or complaint at his drink choice was what set him off the edge. Heart pounding, he pulled at the bread they were served with and peered over at Will as she leisurely perused the menu. "What do you recommend?" She was stalling.
"I don't eat here. I'm not sure. Ange usually keeps things simple at home. I've never seen these words in my life."
"I think raclette is a cheese?" Her eyes scanned the menu before darting back up to meet his with nervous energy.
He could be patient when he wanted to. But after his first drink, he finally caved. "Just tell me."
She sighed and put the menu down. She folded her hands in her lap. "I'm going on a date with Toni Rosello."
"What?" He must have misheard her. He took a healthy gulp of the filtered water. "Say that again."
She bit her lip. "This Saturday, I have a date with Toni Rosello."
He blinked, slowly inhaled, and contemplated what she was saying. "What did he do?"
"He just asked me."
"And if you had said no, what would he have done?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. He didn't exactly threaten me. He just asked. But he did suggest he'd consider leaving you be if I do."
"I know you're not that gullible. And you just accepted?" He was incredulous. "What're you thinking you're going to get from him? A signed confession if you sit on his lap for a few minutes?"
"No. I don't. But I need to get close to him. But it's not all bad. You're going to be there."
He was taken aback. "Rosello's idea, I take it." The idea of having to watch the two of them in a romantic setting was enough to make him map out where the nearest gallon of bleach was.
"Yes, but it makes sense. You can be my extra protection." She breathlessly added, "We can take him down together."
He rubbed his temple, a headache rampaging in his skull. "For fuck's sake, Maddox."
"Feel free to order the lobster." Will turned to the approaching waiter and took the glass of wine, sighing into it as she took a healthy sip. "And name your demands. I'll make all of this up to you."
He never felt more defeated in his life. "What do I have to do to make sure you don't go through with this?"
"Absolutely nothing."
He ground his teeth. "Wilhelmina."
Her eyes curved into pained crescents at the sound of her full name. "No. This is not part of that discussion. Okay? I'm tired, Mark. I'm tired of seeing you like this. I want the Mark Hoffman of today. The man who goes and makes the right call and saves lives. Not this side of you that the devil is forcing you to be." She put her glass down and took his hand, her grip tight and cool. "I love you."
The world felt slow all of a sudden. He wasn't sure he heard her correctly. "What?"
"I. Love. You. Okay? As soon as all of this is over, I want us to go back to being partners. Solving crimes. Cleaning up the city. And we can be. Once you're free."
He felt like he was dreaming. It must have been a dream. "...as friends? Or more?"
She shook her head, pretty and serious. "I don't know. But that's not the point. I'm telling you. The last time, at your place," she looked briefly away before returning his eye contact, "I was scared about how you made me feel. But I've thought about it. And everything that's come to this - I don't want it to be for nothing. You're… you're someone I don't want to lose. I'm tired of losing the men in my life." Her eyes were brimming but she pressed on. "Let me save you. And after, we can figure the rest out from there."
It wasn't a marriage proposal. But it practically felt like one. He flustered. "I…" He wasn't a man of many words but she had frozen the few he had in his mouth.
The waiter arrived to take their orders. He stumbled through, not caring or even remembering what he had asked for. He just wanted the guy to go away so they could continue this talk.
The three words rang in his ear and he could have played it on loop forever.
I love you.
It had been a very long time since he heard someone besides Angie say that to him.
Finally, they were alone again. "You're not just saying this to get me to go along with your plan, are you?" Please don't be cruel to me, Will.
Now, she looked thoughtful, as though seriously considering him. "You don't believe me?"
"I don't know what to believe." He shook his head. "You confuse me, Will."
"Well, stay alive long enough to not be confused anymore." She pulled his hand to her and kissed it, smiling that dazzling smile and it felt like the world had stood still. "And trust me on this. I'll get you out. Just be on your best behavior-,"
"OH MY GOD!" The two of them jumped and turned to see Angelina in a chef's coat and hat with her hands on her cheeks, beaming down at them. "Mark! Will! How long?!" She was red-faced and squealing, making him wince.
"Calm down, Ange," he tried to soften the disruption but she continued pining.
"I knew it. I just knew you two would get together. I've got to tell Pete, we have a betting pool going." Angelina leaned down and put her arm around him and pulled him into a hug. "And you two decided to finally tell me! This is just perfect for the wedding! Now you two can dance together as a real couple and it's going to just be so cute! The pictures!"
He took a deep breath, keeping his cool for his sister's sake. Maybe choosing her restaurant wasn't the best venue for this situation, if he was going to keep his work-life separate from his personal life. But looking at Will, he knew that ship had sailed, been lit on fire, and sunk to the bottom long before that day.
