Daniel Rigg

He needed to blow off some steam, so he went to the gym.

The room stank of sweat, feet, and antique rubber.

Most of the cushions on the benches were torn from decades of use.

But he didn't mind it. Lifting weights helped keep his mind off of things.

Like tonight.

Of all the times to bring up sour talk, he hadn't expected Tracy to do it on the rare Friday night he had off-duty. He was livid. He should have suspected something was up when he saw that she had prepared a full spread of all his favorite foods: a whole roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, collard greens, cheesy mac, and sweet potatoes. He had been several heaping bites in when Tracy brought up wanting him to get off SWAT.

The food had instantly turned to rocks that got caught in his throat.

Rigg let out an angry grunt as he pushed the steel bar over his chest, forcing hundreds of pounds into the air.

"You got it!" His spotter was a guy who happened to be working out the same time he had. They didn't know each other - but they had spotted for each other from time to time. Spotter had his hands over the bar in case he couldn't push it through. He pushed it through.

That was the one thing he could always thank Tracy for, was making his workouts easier.

He had learned to channel his rage at the gym. He picked heavy things up and put them down. He kept at it and after two years of this, he was starting to bulk up.

He wanted to be a monster after another two. He wanted to stay as the SWAT Commander, until his back gave out and his knees finally cried mercy.

He'd give Tracy what she wanted - him, desked and bored, when he finally got too old for action. But for now, it was the one thing he enjoyed doing more than anything.

He loved physically saving people. It sure beat traffic duty or walking the city. He was happy to muster his boys and break down doors. The adrenaline rush was a drug he could never get sick of.

Tracy needed to understand that only he could do this job.

Doesn't she understand that I'm saving lives? He pushed another rep, this time, his elbows finally giving out. He felt the bar begin to return down to his chest.

"Push it!" His spotter cheered.

Rigg shut his eyes, bared his teeth, and with one final surge of energy he forced the beam up one more time.

David Tapp

"That's the last of 'em," Sing signed off on the final form, finalizing the booking of the last K2K member. He leaned back into his office chair, propped his feet on his desk, and folded his fingers before resting them on the back of his head. He breathed a satisfying sigh. "Took a while. But we're finally done. I don't know about you, but I need a vacation after this one."

Tapp nodded, sharing in his partner's weary joy. "I hear you, Sing. I'm ready to take a two day long nap."

"On the bright side, there's no way we'll ever get a case as nuts as this one." Sing, no longer a rookie, still had that boyish optimism that David admired and pitied.

"Now you just jinxed us, Sing," David shook his head, smiling. He, too, didn't really believe terrorist gang wars could be topped in his career. Especially since he was due to retire in the next five years. But it was true that crimes were getting more violent and more over-the-top since he started out. For Sing, maybe he'd have to face some seriously disturbed criminals. It made David wonder if he should push his retirement back.

He knew Sing was capable. No longer naive, Sing had more lines on his face and a weariness in his voice from the long hours and rough reality of the job. But the guy still had such a strong moral compass that it was always a risk he'd be pigheaded and get himself killed. Tapp worried about it. Sing was one of those rare cops that genuinely wanted to help people and valued the lives of others over his own.

That recklessness made David Tapp fear that he would outlive his much younger partner. And he wasn't about to let that happen.

Sing was more than just his partner. He was like a son to him. At some point, he wanted Sing to settle down. Meet a nice girl. Have some kids.

He didn't want Sing to be like him, in his late fifties and about to retire to an empty house.

"Yeah, you look like you need some sleep, old man," Sing was up, coat in his hand. "Let's grab a beer. Maddox is treating us. Haven't talked to her in a long time."

David blinked. "Oh yeah, I heard she's back for good this time. I haven't seen her since Knox's funeral." He remembered seeing her, close to Hoffman's side. She, too, had a shadow over her face when he last saw her, and it wasn't just because she was at a funeral. There was a stark contrast from the shiny eyed rookie he recalled. That Heart-Stealer case must have been rough for her.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Let's get out of here for once."

David and Sing arrived at the Green Lion Grill, Sing's favorite spot in the whole damn world. David knew the menu inside and out. The only thing that had changed were the prices and the happy hour specials.

"Sing! Tapp!" Will was waving from a booth, seated alone with a pint of yellow beer halfway gone.

"Sup, Mad Max?" Sing slid into the seat across from her, Tapp following. "Congrats on catching the Heart-Stealer."

"Definitely a joint effort. Kerry is the real hero."

"Where is Kerry?"

"She's on sabbatical, still in Virginia."

"Yeah, good call. Speaking of, why is it I hear you're still up and about?" Sing pointed to the bandage on her shoulder. "Shouldn't you be in bed, sleeping off some painkillers? Should you be drinking?"

Will let out a small laugh. "What are you, my father? Yeah, I flushed the rest a few days ago. It hurts like a bitch. But I need a clear head. I've got so much to catch up on." She said this and proceeded to finish the last of her beer.

Tapp figured she was drinking to cope with the pain. None of his business, but he thought it funny. Maybe a little hypocritical.

"So," Will was fiddling a napkin between her fingers. "I hear you're both the reason the city can rest easy tonight, knowing there's no more hidden explosives for civilians to step on. Good job."

Sing shrugged. "It was a shit show."

"Yeah, sounds like it."

The server arrived to take their orders. Once gone, Sing leaned forward, interest curling his lip.

"So, you and Hoffman survived long distance for how many years now?"

"Two."

"Sounds serious."

David knew Sing always had a thing for Maddox. He folded his arms and suppressed a smirk.

Will nodded, picking up on Sing's curiosity. She smiled. "Don't expect wedding invites anytime soon."

"How's Hoffman holding up?" David asked, "After Knox?"

Will's expression faltered. "He's… fine. He took it hard but I think he's handling it well. Doesn't talk about it much."

He could feel the anxiety coming off the woman. Her shoulders were raised. Her lower lip was pulled under her teeth. Will looked back at him, knowing that he knew she wasn't being so honest. He politely smiled, nodding in sympathy.

The server returned with their drinks. David raised his beer glass up. "In memory of Vernon Knox. A good cop. One hell of a man."

Everyone raised their glass, somber.

"So, what's going on with Matthews?" Will changed the subject.

Sing and David looked at each other. David decided to be the one to get his feet wet in that territory. "So he's suspended. Can't go pointing your weapon at a reporter. Though we've all been there and many of the guys feel for him. I admit, I've wanted to shoot a nosy reporter from time to time. Especially when they get in your face and follow you around, when you're off duty."

Will nodded, lips pursed. "What's Grissom going to do?"

"Oh, he's not getting fired. Grissom remembers back when Matthews hadn't juggled a divorce from hell. He's not going to just kick the guy, especially when he owes alimony and child support. But Matthews will likely be on desk duty for the rest of his career. And that's after IA finished taking the biggest shit on him they possibly could." David had grown to strongly dislike Matt Gibson, after all the trouble he caused to many decent cops.

The man was so holier-than-thou, David was surprised he hadn't gotten nabbed for not putting quarters in the break room's coffee fund but still helping himself to a mug. Despite his qualms, he feared for the boy's safety. At the end of the day, David Tapp was a peaceful man. But there were many in the department that wouldn't blink before taking Gibson into a private room and physically educating him on not crossing the wrong people.

"For now, Matthews is no longer partnered with Hoffman. He's going to be stowed in the basement. Now, your boyfriend is getting his own office."

"Wow, he doesn't tell me anything," Will half-joked, half-griped.

"I'm surprised," Sing took a slow drink of his beer, a knowing smirk on his face. "What with the latest I've heard."

"Which is?"

"Grissom can't have Hoffman go solo. And what with Matthews out and Kerry gone it only makes sense to put you two together, temporarily."

Maddox's eyes shined. "Wait, you're saying we're partnering up again?"

"If Hoffman wants to, yeah. Otherwise, it'll have to be someone else in Homicide. And there hasn't been anyone else free or willing."

David thought it was strange that Will had no idea. He wondered why Hoffman hadn't let her know as soon as possible. Either Hoffman doesn't want her as his partner or there's something else. Whatever it was, now that David had all the free time in the world, he looked forward to sitting back and watching the two lovebirds duke it out. He always did love reality TV.

Angelina Acomb

The burns on her hand and arm constantly reminded her how clumsy she was. And now, without work keeping her mind busy, she was stuck at home to face reality.

Peter was not coming back.

She couldn't cry any more. She wasn't sure if she could ever cry again.

There was a numbness in her. She couldn't feel anything, except the pain. At least it was something.

She wondered if she would ever feel anything besides pain again.

The door knock jolted her from her thoughts. She let out a sigh. Mark, again.

The only thing that was making things harder was Mark's constant fawning over her. She knew he was trying his best. He was doing the same things he did back when their parents died. He looked after her as if she would break from the slightest breeze.

Didn't he understand that she wasn't the same person anymore?

She was used to people dying on her. Now, she was twenty eight years old. She was a full grown woman, for god's sake. And he had his own grief to go through. She knew he was doing that thing again, where he pushed his own feelings for her sake.

And that just made her feel worse.

She wanted him to be a bit more selfish. She could handle it. Really.

She opened the door, ready to give Mark a piece of her mind when the words froze in her throat.

"Hey. I brought some ice. Wanted to see if you need anything." Seth Baxter, wearing a black beanie and giving her a small smile, held up a bag of gas station ice. "How's your hand?"

"Fine," she lied, letting him into her apartment. "You didn't have to do this."

"Yeah, I know." He itched his upper lip with his thumb, looking away. "But I wanted to."

She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. Her initial reaction was guarded. What does he want from me? She waited for him to continue.

"I know it's none of my business. But I know life can suck. If you just want to take your mind off of it, I can help."

She raised an eyebrow. "You can make all my troubles go away?" She recognized the bite in her words and wondered when she became such a bitch.

Seth didn't seem bothered by it, though. He just grinned at her, as if her rudeness made him happy. "Babe, I can take you to worlds you've never imagined."

She snorted. "Are you on drugs?"

"Most of the time." He laughed but Angelina didn't join in. "Well, tonight there's a get together happening on the south side. Good music, chill vibes. Just extending the invite. You look like you could use a good time."

"Why are you doing this?" She felt lame, holding the melting bag of ice that was surprisingly soothing over her hand. She needed to put the bag in the freezer, soon.

"I have a thing for women out of my league."

Her eyes narrowed. "My husband just died." She was about to tell him to get out but he held his hands up looking defensive.

"A joke, Ange. You just remind me of someone I used to care about. That's all." There was an edge in his voice and the sudden vulnerable moment set something off in her brain.

"Who?"

"None of your business." He laughed again. "So I take it you want me to get the fuck out. I respect that. I hope you feel better, Angel."

"Don't call me Angel." She knew she was being unfair to this man. He had driven her to the hospital. He seemed to be trying to do a good deed.

And maybe doing something way out of her comfort zone would be the perfect distraction.

The phone rang. Seth and Angelina stood in silence until the voicemail began recording.

"Hey, Ange, this is Will. Call me back, I miss you. I heard what happened and I - I'm so sorry. Let me know if you need a friend. Bye." The click and beep of the voicemail brought more silence into the room.

Angelina's stomach sank. Great. Now Will pities me.

"If I go," she cautiously spoke, "to whatever this party is, know I'm not going to hook up with you or anything. I'm grieving right now."

Seth smirked. "Sure, I get that." He raised an eyebrow. "So you'll go?"

She shrugged. "What the hell. Anything to get out of this apartment." And for everyone to just leave me alone for a few hours.

"All right. It's not a classy scene, so don't feel the need to try too hard with getting prettied up." He paused, as if considering his next words. "Not trying to pick you up or anything, but you look good now."

"Smooth, Baxter," She pushed the ice bag into his chest. "Throw this into the freezer and I'll get ready."

The two of them entered the abandoned warehouse. The smell of weed, cigarettes, and sweat clung to the musty air. They were in an abandoned steel plant, where iron sheets were stacked in piles, covered in metallic dust and rat droppings.

The music made her bones vibrate with each thump.

She was surrounded by people. Young people danced like maniacs by the center of the room. Along the walls, older people sat on steel beams or leaned against the building supports and watched on, nodding their heads to the music.

Lights from above, green and blue and red flashed and burned her eyes.

She felt Seth's mouth by her ear as he shouted, "Want to dance?"

She shrugged. She wasn't sure. But this place was exhilarating. She was excited to be here, seeing these new sights and experiencing such a strange world.

All around her, everyone looked like they were having the time of their life.

But she didn't dance much. She felt too awkward.

Seth crooked his finger and led her off the dance floor and into an adjacent room. The music was still loud but notably softened in this room.

It was like a small market. Crates covered in tie dyed fabrics with glass smoking devices, paper signs with sloppy handwriting read,

'Dabs $40

Flower $15

Edibles $25'.

"Ever smoke?"

"No." She felt her shoulders square in defense.

"You want to?"

"No." The knee jerk reaction she felt spilled from her mouth before she could think about it.

"I hear your brother's a cop. Got to be a good girl for him?" Seth smirked.

Angelina suddenly felt enraged. So he knew about Mark. That was weird but not alarming. They worked together. It was bound to come up in gossip.

But his preconceived notion that she had her life revolve around what Mark thought was downright insulting. "You don't know anything about me."

"True. So what? You scared?"

She opened her mouth, then shut it. She grimaced. Actually, she was. A little. She was always told weed was a gateway drug. It would start with weed and then…

"Weed never killed anyone. It's impossible to OD from it. And one hit from a joint will help relax you."

She crossed her arms and studied Seth. He wasn't necessarily twisting her arm. But still.

"It'll help with the burn. Weed is a non-addictive pain killer. And fun." Seth left her and handed some cash to one of the stoners sitting in their lawn chair. Seth took a joint from the table and put it between his lips, flicking the flint of his lighter and taking small puffs. Once the joint was finally lit he took a deep drag, holding it in his lungs before handing it to her.

He made a small gasp before exhaling a thick cloud of smoke to the side. "Here. Live a little, Angel." He looked at her with this dangerous smile that made her stomach flip.

She glared at him for the nickname but took the joint. There was something about this man. She would normally never associate with someone like him. But at that moment, she felt almost giddy. She felt dangerous. She almost felt like she was alive.

She took a small puff, keeping the smoke in her mouth.

"No, you gotta let it hit your lungs."

She took a deep breath, sighing to relieve some tension. She was nervous. Her heart was racing. Her hand was trembling. The other, throbbed and reminded her not just of the burn but of how she got it.

Peter.

She took a deep breath but instantly felt a burn inside her chest. She coughed, her eyes tearing up. She couldn't breathe.

She felt Seth's hand on her back, pounding it. He was laughing. "Now you'll get high, Angel."

Mark Hoffman

Everywhere Mark went, he heard whispers.

"Did you hear about Eric Matthews?"

"Poor guy."

"Fucking idiot should know better than to point a gun at a reporter."

"I heard there was a camera. Dude's caught on tape. He's fucked."

The worst of the gossip was in the break room. He pitied Matthews, knowing what it was like, experiencing this sort of thing. The fucking losers had nothing better to talk about. "Shouldn't you get back to work?" He calmly stared at two rookies who were looking at him now with worry.

"Uh, sure thing Hoffman. Sorry about your partner." And the two uniformed men retreated. Hoffman poured his coffee and left the breakroom, deciding he would spend the rest of the day in his new office.

He entered the space, noting a cute little redhead sitting at the small couch against the wall, lounging about while reading the paper. "I like what you did with the place," she smiled but her tone held a sharpness. He knew what this was about.

"Word travels fast."

"So," she swung her legs to the ground and dropped the newspaper. "Explain why you didn't tell me about my reassignment? Partner?"

He could tell she was thrilled, despite her tone. She wanted to be angry. But he knew she couldn't be. It was good news he had withheld from her.

"Been busy. You know, with Ange."

Her eyes dulled. "Oh. Right."

He knew she hadn't forgotten. She simply avoided the issue. He, too, was guilty of that most of the time.

But lately, Angelina was scaring him. He wasn't going to ignore the problem. Not when she was concerned. But the more he kept trying to get involved and help his little sister, the angrier she got.

He had never seen her this way but he adapted. He had begun to give her space. He stopped dropping in after work every day. He would call but not leave a voice mail every time. He'd just leave one message a day, to remind her that he was there for her. That he was always going to be there for her.

He figured she was just tired of being abandoned by everyone around her. And she was pushing him away because she was scared of losing him too.

But he wasn't going to let that happen. He knew it was arrogant to assume this, but he had decided he wasn't going to die. He wasn't going to let anything get the drop on him until Angelina was well taken care of and they were both ancient and gray and surrounded by their respective grandchildren.

"So, what do you want for lunch? My treat," Will walked around his desk and leaned against the table, a flirty grin. She wore tight pants and her blue collared shirt was unbuttoned at the top, revealing a pleasant amount of skin. She was close to him, practically about to fall into his lap.

She smelled of that sweet perfume he liked. She smelled like a bakery. She nudged his thigh with her knee, giving him a sultry look. "Maybe we can skip lunch and have some dessert instead."

He couldn't help but wish for that. But the door wasn't locked. And he sure as hell didn't want Gibson to walk in on them and get him cited for sexual harassment.

Which, despite their declared relationship, the fucker would definitely try to pull.

"You've been gone for a while. And let's just say I've got to keep my nose extra clean these days. I don't want you dragged into this mess." A part of why he wasn't especially keen on being partners again was because it would put a bright red target on Will as well. Gibson's hate for him far exceeded any respect he had for her.

She raised an eyebrow. "Maybe we should eat, then. Larry's?"

He smiled at her. It was good to have her back. "Yeah. Let's go."

(Power of Will)

They didn't make it to Larry's, instead, opting to grab a 'bite' back at his apartment.

As soon as the front door had shut, Will was on him like a rabid fox, leaping and wrapping her legs around his waist, arms around his neck, pressing her mouth hard into his.

He missed her. He missed how she tasted. He missed how nimble and quick she was.

He missed feeling her firm butt in his hands.

He missed feeling her soft hair against his cheek.

It had been months since they had last slept together. He knew he wasn't going to last long if they dived right in.

He carried her as she nipped and pulled at his lips and cheek with her kisses, down the hallway. He made it to his bedroom and lowered her onto the bed, keeping his hands pressed down on the blankets.

He was already sweating, feeling way too hot for his clothes.

Below him, Will was already unbuttoning her blouse, looking up at him with half lidded eyes, full of hunger and need. He was mesmerized as she revealed the smooth skin of her collar and chest, her breasts pushed up to him with her bra.

He let himself begin to touch her, feeling the buttery soft skin that was decorated with brown freckles. The bandage on her shoulder gave him pause, his thumb grazing the gauze delicately.

"It's fine," she breathlessly whispered, pulling at his tie as she undid the knot. She gripped his shirt and broke off the buttons.

"Hey!" He liked that shirt. And sewing them back on took time.

She didn't seem apologetic as she went down to his pants, greedy and rushed as she unbuckled his belt.

Seeing her, so feral, made him feel as if he was about to fall off the edge of a cliff. In a good way.

He dived on top of her, pulling at her bra roughly, twisting at the fastenings with so much strength she gasped in pain as the fabric ripped with a sharp 'sheeek'.

"Payback's a bitch," he growled back, enjoying the searing hot fury that was pouring from her, now.

"My shoulder, Mark," she scolded, and he felt the instant regret like a shot of cold water. She rolled her eyes before unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down with fluid ease.

They were both breathing hard and fast.

He felt like a teenager, getting laid for the first time.

You're not leaving me again, Will. He silently promised this. He would do whatever it took to keep her close to him.

It was clear they had missed each other, desperately.

She was pulling at his boxers, small hands pressing onto his cock and squeezing it gently. He let out a hiss as she smiled triumphantly up at him. "You've missed me, I see."

"Yeah, no shit." He pushed her down onto the mattress, grabbing a breast and squeezing with a little more force than he intended. She arched her back into him, eyes shut tight as she savored his touch.

He pressed his mouth against her breast, tasting her skin and sucking on a nipple as he ground his boner into her pelvis. His blood was electric. He sucked and bit rough on her as she let out a half-cry, half-moan.

He felt her push him back suddenly. At first, he wouldn't let her, until she let out a sigh. "Mark, let me suck your cock."

Oh. That got him to pull from her, sheepishly hopeful. He stepped back as she scooted off the bed, lowered to his groin, pulling at his boxers to unsheath his throbbing manhood in her hand, dragging her tongue over its skin.

He inhaled, feeling the air fill his lungs and her wet, hot tongue engulf and devour him. He looked down, enjoying seeing her bob her head back and forth, cheeks tight and the wet sucking sounds strumming his nerves like a guitar.

After long, hedonistic seconds of this, he felt himself begin to build up, already about to climax. "Will. Slow down." He gripped her hair and pulled her head back when she had ignored him. "Fuck, you're about to make me cum."

She finally pulled her mouth from him, pumping his meat slowly, smirking up at him. "How long has it been? Months?"

"Five months," he growled, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back onto the bed. "You drive me nuts, you know that?"

She let out a hum in sadistic glee. "Then fuck me, Mark."

He swallowed, feeling more than just unbridled lust but this urge to dominate her. One minute, she was his saint. Then, she was a maddening vixen.

He gripped the waist of her pants and pulled them down, forcing them off her curvy ass and down her legs. He wanted to admire every inch of her but she was already tossing her head back and spreading her legs for him, glossy from being wet, her pussy inviting.

He pressed himself onto her, guiding the tip of his dick into her opening, pushing with a groan. She was tight, slick, warm, and pulsing. He pulled before pushing back into her, going as deep as he could as she let out a soft yowl like a kitten.

He kissed her neck, licking the salt off her skin, savoring the feeling of her wrapped around him. He thrust into her, not taking his time but with rough and violent force that he had to grab her hips and pull her back onto him when she had been pushed across the bed.

She wrapped her legs tight around his waist, bouncing off of his cock as he vigorously pounded away.

He let out a gasp as he felt the orgasm crash over him so suddenly. He collapsed and twitched as he emptied his load inside of her.

Will's moans had stopped, an awkward pause filling the room.

She propped herself up on her elbow, him, still inside of her. "I'm that good, huh?"

He felt embarrassment flooding his ears and neck. He was light headed, still feeling that pleasant buzz but ashamed that he hadn't gotten her there as well. "Sorry."

"No," she shook her head, letting out a forced laugh. "I shouldn't have rushed you. We're just out of practice, is all." Her eyes glittered. "I expect better results round two."

He nodded, humiliation lacing his satisfaction. "You can count on that."

Angelina Acomb

His thumb grazed her cheek, pulling back an eyelash. "Make a wish, Angel." They were outside, her ears still numb from the cold and loud music. They had just left a basement bar. A real dive. She smiled back at him, blowing the long black hair off his fingertips. Seth's smile was crooked as he took a drag of his cigarette.

She, too, took a puff from hers.

When did she start smoking? She knew it had been shortly after she and Seth started going out every Friday night, a ritual she had fallen into because he just made it so damn easy. At first, she just tried it out to not feel like a square. But eventually, after doing it every weekend, she started joining Seth on his smoke breaks at the kitchen.

She needed to quit, though, and soon. Her sense of taste was starting to go. Her sous chef had complained that dishes had been returned to the kitchen, way too seasoned and off. "I'm worried about you, Angelina. You sure you don't need to take more vacation? Maybe talk to someone?"

She had been sure. She shook her head, shoving the familiar anguish away with each drag of her cigarette.

"Well, the night's young. Let's get the hell out of here. That scene sucked." Baxter flicked his ash and walked down the street. She followed, eager for the next adventure.

Though they spent a lot of time together, she wasn't sure where they stood. Maybe they would eventually become something. Honestly, she felt like she had been using him to get over Peter. He didn't seem to mind, especially after they started sleeping together.

It all just happened so fast. One night she had taken an edible and had gotten too high to think straight. The next thing she knew, she was lost in her thoughts, feeling Seth over her, grunting and sweating, while she shut her eyes, gripping the bed sheets, thinking it was one hell of a bad trip.

The next thing she knew, she awoke, sore and feeling even more numb than usual.

She didn't think about it, choosing to just keep moving forward with life. She showered and went to work. Cooked, though there was no joy in what she did anymore. She forgot what it was like, enjoying things. She wondered if she would ever enjoy anything ever again.

The only time she could count on not feeling so terrible was when Seth came over, often with some new drug she had never done in her life.

"Scored some coke off an old buddy. Down for a bump, Angel?"

She liked cocaine and ecstasy the most. They were the closest things to her feeling happy. Ecstasy made her overwhelmed with compassion for the world and filled her with obscene amounts of pleasure until the crash came and she was suddenly so aware that the feeling had been artificial. Cocaine had filled her with the magnificent Godlike sensation that the world was hers to take and she would get through whatever was thrown her way. Until it wore off and she wanted to take a week long nap.

Regardless, the drugs helped her forget about all the pain and suffering in the world. It helped her deal with things. It helped her deal with how shitty things had become. And she couldn't find anything else that made her feel even remotely happier.

"Babe, can you do me a favor?" Seth had a brown paper bag bundled up in his hand. "Hold this for me, okay, Angel?"

"Sure," she wasn't sure why he suddenly sounded rushed. She was still stoned, her face feeling tight and her head hazed. But she took the parcel in her hands as Seth walked off. "Hey, wait for me?"

"Excuse me," a deep stern voice made her stop. She turned, seeing a police officer looking at her with a grave frown. "Ma'am, can you show me what's in that bag?"

"Uh," she looked down, instantly on edge. Adrenaline and paranoia made her begin to shake violently. "I - it's not mine." She could already assume what was in the bag.

"The bag." The cop was cool and firm. He took the bag from her, unrolling it and looking inside. In under a second, she felt her wrists being pulled behind her back and the metallic clip of cuffs fastened on her.

"Wait - " she tried to wriggle but he held her firmly. "It's not mine!"

Wilhelmina Maddox

Will entered the interrogation room, arms folded, looking down at Angelina Acomb. She couldn't believe it when Sing had grabbed her and broken the news. Hoffman's sister was found with a gram of heroin.

At first, she thought it had been a joke. Some weird prank Sing and the boys had concocted. But when Sing gave her the deadpan stare, she knew this was no joking matter.

"Angelina," she felt awkward, in this situation. Mark was still in the dark. He had been called to give a statement to IA on Matthews' character hours ago. "Care to explain?"

"It's not mine!" She sounded exhausted, as if she had repeated that statement many times before. She still had cuffs on, her fists on the table. Will took in her stringy hair, the shadows under her eyes, the emaciated physique of skin clinging to her cheek and jaw bones. She looked like a junkie. Hell, the stench of dope was thick in that room.

"It's been a while," Will knew the rush of guilt crushing her stomach down to her knees was well deserved. "I don't think I've gotten a chance to talk to you in months. Did you get my messages?" Will had left many voicemails on her answering machine. Ange hadn't answered any of her phone calls. Kerry, too, had complained about not getting a hold of her.

Even Mark had confided that Ange had told him she wanted space. And he had respected her wish. We should have been more involved. Will was sure of that, now that they were in this predicament.

"Does Mark know?" Her voice trembled with panic.

"Not yet. But he's going to. Word spreads around here, as you know." Will noted the harshness in her tone and bit her lip. "How the hell did you end up with that much heroin, Angelina? You've never struck me as the type."

"I - I was holding it for a friend. I know that sounds so cliche, but I was!" She coughed, cursing. "Can I have a cigarette? Please?"

Will's hands went to her side. The woman kept surprising her. "Yeah. Sure." The interview had been underway as soon as she entered the room. The camera in the upper corner of the room blinked its red light, indicating its recording.

Will was in good cop mode, forcing herself to emotionally compartmentalize. Angelina was in serious trouble and unless Will decided to start breaking the rules, she was likely going to sleep in a jail cell that night.

She left the room, talking to the guard by the door. "Got a pack of smokes?"

The man took out a lighter and a pack from his breast pocket, handing it to her. She saluted him before returning to the room, taking out a stick for Angelina and holding the lighter for her.

"Thanks." Angelina let out a smoky sigh, relief relaxing her lined face.

Will noticed her fingernails were dirty and her left wrist had some yellowing bruises. Observing the suspect even further, she noticed there were what appeared to be hickeys on her neck. "How are things, Ange?"

Angelina blinked slowly, looking at Will with caution. "Pretty terrible, Will. I'm sure you knew that."

"I couldn't be sure of that, Ange, what with you screening your calls. Did I do something to offend you?"

"No. I just." Angelina's eyes shined with tears. "I just couldn't talk. It's not you. It's. Everyone." She was sniffing, taking another puff, and forcing out a thick plume. She coughed and shivered, avoiding eye contact. "But I guess I've got to talk, huh?"

"No, you don't. You said you understood your right to remain silent. Or did you not?"

"No, no, I understand. The whole Miranda Rights thing. Mark always said to shut up and lawyer up. Guess I should do that, huh?"

Will bit her lip. Never did the interrogator want the suspect to demand a lawyer. But she couldn't say that.

"And I know what you're doing. The Reid Technique, right?"

Though she had never shown interest in criminal science or law enforcement, it was clear she was well aware of the standard procedures. Perks of being related to a cop.

"How did we get here, Ange?" Will decided to just be frank with her friend. She rubbed her temple, revealing her true feelings. Disappointment. Disbelief. "You are the most innocent and sweetest person I've ever met. Who gave you the bag? I know you wouldn't have any idea where to score. Just give me a name and we can get you a slap on the wrist."

Angelina's lips thinned and she shrugged. "You just don't know me well, Will. I know how to get what I need, plenty." There was a hauntedness over her face, her eyes glazed with the familiar weariness that Will had seen throughout her twelve years as a cop. She also had known Angelina for almost as long and knew she was lying.

"I never told you this, Ange, but you are a terrible liar." Will leaned back in her chair as Angelina glared daggers back. "When you lie, you flip your hair over your shoulder. And a couple of other tells that I'll let you think about. So let's cut the bull shit. Mark is going to be fucking devastated when he finds out his baby sister is a strung up junkie. And he'll find out who's been poisoning you, one way or the other. If I get the name, I can make sure the fucker is safe in prison and not somewhere Mark will one day decide to take out back and handle on his own. You know your brother, Ange. And he's one mean bastard when someone he cares about is hurt. So do us all a favor and just spill the beans."

Angelina had a hateful sneer on her face, obscene and unfamiliar to Will. This moment in her life was perhaps one of the hardest she had experienced in a long time. This drug epidemic, it seemed, infected any and everyone.

But Angelina was at least alive, not found overdosed in some gutter or in the trunk of some mobster's car. She could still be saved.

"I want a lawyer."

Will jumped to her feet, furious at her. She wanted to snap at her, to tell her she was being a selfish idiot. But she remembered herself. She remembered what she was in this situation. She was a servant of the law. She could not backhand Angelina Acomb across the face, no matter how hard she deserved it at the moment.

"Fine. Enjoy your night behind bars, Ange." She turned to leave but stopped when she realized the door was wide open. Her heart sank as she recognized his shocked expression. "Mark."