David Tapp

"Tapp," Sing's voice made him freeze as he was reaching for the last krispee kreme donut in the break room. He turned, noting his partner's wide eyes and the way he was breathing hard.

"What's up?"

"Another Jigsaw victim."

He hummed, taking a bite out of the pastry. He was bracing himself. Sing looked troubled. "So how bad is it? And where's the body?"

"Currently waiting downstairs."

Already in the morgue? Tapp didn't feel rushed but the way Sing bounced from foot to foot, there was a nervous energy he didn't understand. "And?"

"She's alive, Tapp."

He almost dropped his donut as he went to follow Sing down the stairs towards the interrogation rooms. They stepped in observation, where a crowd of curious cops not assigned to the case gawked at the two way mirror.

"Get the hell out," Tapp snapped at them. "None of you have a reason to be here."

As the men grumbled and shuffled on, Tapp shook his head.

"Amanda," Maddox's voice sounded over the speakers, a gentle coo. "Do you need some water?"

"A cigarette. Please."

Tapp approached the looking glass, seeing the woman who was hugging herself with a razored smile cut into her cheeks twitch and stare at the table.

Tapp saw the backs of Allison Kerry and Will Maddox, likely the ones performing the interrogation to help the woman feel less intimidated, and the obvious social worker who had a hand on Amanda's shoulder.

Maddox took out a pack from her blazer pocket and Amanda's eyes lit up briefly as she took a cigarette out. A gentle flick of a lighter and the flame to Amanda's lips glowed orange. Tapp heard her inhale and sigh out the smoke, looking less anxious.

"So you have no clue why anyone would do this to you?" Allison sounded on edge. Impatient. This case had been weighing heavily on her and it showed.

"No," Amanda gave shaky a shaky breath. "I mean yeah. But no one I know is smart or creative enough to pull this kind of shit off." There was anger, in her voice. Subtle. But there. She didn't like what happened to her. Obviously.

"So you do believe someone you know did this to you?" Will added, "Do you have any enemies?"

"Doesn't everyone?" Amanda looked up, staring her down. "Bet you have some enemies too, sweetheart."

"Sadly, you're right." Will tucked a curl behind her ear, leaned back. "But what happened to you wasn't right. You didn't deserve that. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy."

Amanda furrowed her brow. "No," she softly murmured. "No, I deserved a lot worse." She puffed smoke and crossed her legs, avoiding eye contact. "I'm a piece of shit junkie. I hurt - so many people because of my selfishness." She wiped angrily at the side of her face, her voice cracking. "But not anymore. I'm done."

Silence filled the room.

"Amanda, you did not deserve that. Even if you've made some mistakes, I can tell, you're not a bad person." Will was trying to salvage the interview, keeping Amanda talking. "And you're a survivor. You're the first person to survive this monster."

This made Amanda look up, a glint in her dark eyes. "I'm the monster. I - I killed Donnie."

"You knew the victim?" Allison straightened up, leaned forward.

"We went to the same clinic. Both into the same shit."

"No jury will convict you. Your situation… is a special case," Will had given Allison a glance. Taking the hint, she scooted her chair back and went to leave.

"Anyone want coffee?"

Everyone but Amanda raised their hands and she left the room.

"Let's wrap this up. She's had enough," the social worker announced.

"I can tell this is hard for you. But thank you for coming in. When you can, we would really appreciate another talk. It's asking a lot from you but with your help, we can finally catch the Jigsaw Killer. And no one else has to suffer what you've had to."

Amanda nodded, shakily said, "Sure," and got to her feet to leave.

"What was her trap?" Tapp asked, trying to piece together what the tears in her mouth indicated.

"Jigsaw called it the 'Reverse Bear Trap'. Was going to rip her jaw open."

"Jesus."

"Just wait til you see the tape. Our victim here, Amanda Young, has a record. Served a sentence for possession. We're looking into any connection with the victim that didn't survive. Donnie Greco. Longer wrap sheet. Possession, dealing, grand theft. He was administered a paralytic and she had to cut into his bowels to find a key to escape."

This poor woman, if this doesn't fuck her up in the head, it'll be a miracle.

"I need a vacation, Sing."

"Don't we all." Tapp left the room, zooming with newfound excitement. It was a new break. Some good news, after all this time. He climbed the staircase two at a time and burst into his office, surprised to see Hoffman admiring the pictures of victims and the red yarn links on the corkboard.

"Tapp," Hoffman greeted. "Got a minute?"

"Got five if it's about the Jigsaw case. We've got a break." He couldn't help himself, allowing a cracked smile.

Hoffman raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Do tell?"

"I'll fill you in tomorrow. I gotta head to a crime scene." Tapp reached for his coat and paused. "Don't get too comfy, Hoffman, soon, the cavalry's knocking on that son of a bitch's door. And that's you and Rigg and anyone else who's free." He left the man there, racing back to Sing.

Mark Hoffman

He entered Commander Grissom's office, pausing at the doorway when he saw Will standing with her arms crossed, sullen. "You called?"

Grissom had a tired look on his face. "Sit, you two."

They did. Mark kept his eyes straight ahead though the corner of his eye found traces of her red hair. It took great effort to not turn to enjoy the view in its entirety.

"Is this a performance review?" Hoffman tried to come off as humorous. Will's leg twitched.

"Of sorts," Grissom was calm and grim. "When was the last case you two worked together? Actually, worked together, that is." Grissom allowed a pause as he pulled out a stack of files. "You both have signed off on a ton. Been looking good. But what case did you two actually solve?"

Mark tried to remember. He could recall their very first case. The fifty-second case they closed. Hell, he could remember the rare slow days where they flicked paperclips at each other and the long nights eating donuts while staking out suspects. Yet the most recent? It had to either have been the one with the body in the greenhouse. Or was it the hanging in the church bell tower?

That had been… since before Angie.

"Technically, our last assigned case where we were physically present at the crime scene was the murder of Seth Baxter. But due to my personal involvement in Baxter's acquittal, I stepped down. It's part of the ongoing Jigsaw case."

Grissom nodded. "And you've refused to participate in anything involving a corpse if the pathologist found a puzzle piece cut into its flesh. Despite strong requests from the department."

"There are plenty of other murders that still need attention. Just because Jigsaw is front page news doesn't mean we should ignore the other victims."

Mark could resist no longer and took in the shadows of weariness on her face and the way she kept her face passive despite pressing her fingernails into her thumbs as she tended to do when she was stressed.

"In order to not cause a repeat to what happened to the failed conviction of Seth Baxter, I chose to step back and let those less involved lead the investigation. If the reason for this meeting is to order me to-,"

"We're in a tight spot, Maddox. I cannot accept your resignation." Grissom was tapping at a folded sheet of paper, likely, the resignation in question.

Hoffman felt as though his head was smacked with bricks. Never, as long as he knew her, had he thought Will would even consider quitting this job.

A tightness compressed his throat and filled his gut with acid. She couldn't leave. No, why would she do that?

His mind was running wild with ideas on how to get her to change her mind. And fresh anger at himself boiled in his skull. How could he have let it get to this point?

You pushed her. You told her to get lost. Now you're eating your words.

He had been lazy and unrushed with smoothing things over with her. It'll sort itself out, he had told himself, not that concerned. He had been confident she would still be there for him, no matter how long he had her wait.

He had been arrogant.

She refused to meet his stare, though a swallow hinted she was feeling his scrutiny.

"You knew about this, Hoffman?" Grissom turned the spotlight onto him, eying him with a hint of awareness.

"News to me."

"Look. This is not the highlight of my job, playing marriage counselor to partnerships that decided to get cozier than most, but you both need to figure this shit out. Not for myself but for this department. Maddox, this city needs cops like you. Now, more than ever."

"I apologize," her tone had that gentle but steady firmness that she tended to save for those who had authority over her but still wanted to express her displeasure, "But my decision is final."

"We can negotiate your salary. What if I throw in a promotion, after Jigsaw's caught?"

"It's never been about the money."

"So why are you leaving?" Hoffman interjected, trying to keep his breathing regular and his voice calm.

She turned to him, now, eyebrow raised. "I have personal matters I need to focus on."

It was such a vague answer. The lack of intimacy was like a splash of ice water on his face.

"Well, you've given me two weeks. So I ask you close just one more case together." Grissom pulled out of his drawer a folder, tossing it across to Will's reach.

"All right." She took the file and flipped it open. "Assault, burglarly. No body?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Technically, it was an unlawful termination of an unborn fetus," Grissom growled. "Been getting pressure to close this one. You'll recognize the victim."

Will flipped through the pages, a picture of an attractive older woman smiled back. "Jill Tuck? The charity doctor?"

Grissom nodded. "She's married to John Kramer, the humanitarian architect. Both wealthy, well connected. But after this, Kramer's pulling out of his projects. He's miserable, the Comissioner says, and apparently the Mayor is raining hell on him, shit rolls downhill, and here we are."

Hoffman stiffened but remembered himself. His eyes darted to Will and Grissom. Neither looked concerned. They have no idea. Good. "So just another political case to make you look good?" The department needed a win, was what Grissom was saying, and they needed it fast to help murk the water so the public didn't think they were incompetent.

Jigsaw's making us look like idiots.

"We'll look into it. I can't promise I'll solve it in time before I move on." She got to her feet. Mark did the same.

"You won't be alone, you have your partner after all, Maddox. And Hoffman, a minute," Grissom held him back. "And close the door behind you, Maddox."

As soon as the door clicked shut, Grissom barked, "Get her to stay."

"What can I do?"

"Promise her the moon. Fuck her brains out. I don't care how, just stop her from leaving."

"She barely acknowledges my existence these days. If she wants to leave, nothing I say is going to change her mind." Even if we were like we were, she never backed down once her mind was made up.

"I've tried everything to convince her but she won't listen. Not even for Kerry."

Made sense he was the last resort.

"You've got two weeks. You two have history. We're already so stretched thin, we have patrols on a three-shift rotation. And now this fucking serial killer." Grissom ran his fingers through his thinning hair, his fingers and mustache yellow from nicotine. "She's planning on jumping ship to Quantico. That's what Kerry told me."

Now Mark understood. Strahm. That vulture. It added salt to the wound and now, Mark agreed with his boss. Will couldn't go. Not to him.

"Not sure why she's so intent, I offered her a temporary leave of absence. She said no. Get her to take it. If selling my soul would make a difference, I'd have tossed it yesterday. This city's about to cave in on itself and we're not ready."

Normally, Mark would have told Grissom to fuck himself. But these days, he found himself humbled. With the shadow of the Jigsaw Killer, dangling his secret over his head, the moral high ground was beyond him. And Will, the last person he wanted - needed - was about to disappear? No, that, he would not accept.

But if she's gone, it'll be a hell of a lot easier to not get caught. Unless she joins the FBI, that is. And once the feds decide to start paying more attention to the Jigsaw Killer?

Mark would be helpless, then, to protect himself.

He left Grissom, his decision made.

He went to her office, knocked on the door and let himself in. She was in her trench coat and wrapping a scarf around her neck, looking off guard by his presence. "I'll wrap this case up on my own. You don't have to join me."

"That's not happening, Will."

She narrowed her eyes.

"I'm Will now? Not Maddox?"

He waited a breath. "You've always been Will to me."

She looked like she was about to laugh. "What do you want, Mark?" The way she called his name was full of bite, but even then, he thought it sounded hot.

"Our last case. Let's finish strong."

"You feeling sentimental?" Her nostrils were flared. Her shoulders squared. It looked like she was ready for a fight. She was chewing gum, her jaw twitching.

He cracked a smile. "Yes."

Throwing her off guard, there was a break in her sneer as she turned away. "Why?"

Women always need to know why. He swallowed his pride. "Because I missed you."

He liked how her back stiffened. He stepped closer and she turned on him, and he could see that her pupils had dilated. "You're wearing the cologne," she sounded incredulous as she trailed off.

He took her hand, squeezing it gently, his heart pounding. "Yeah."

After a few seconds of her staring down at his hand, she pulled hers away, the brief softness gone. "This changes nothing." She brushed by him and opened the door. "Come on, let's get to work, then."

"I'm driving."

She didn't fight him on this, to his disappointment. But he took her willingness to work together as progress. The two of them marched side-by-side to the parking lot.

The walk was long and quiet, but Will was the first to break it. "What happened to your wrist?"

He knew she was talking about the bruises. Fucker fought back and his chin contacted my watch last night. "Just clumsy."

Two could play at this game. He smirked, pleased at the way her mouth crinkled in displeasure at being denied the details. They stepped outside, a blast of icy air slapping his face and stinging his ears. He hadn't dressed for this, the morning having been misleading in warmth.

"Looks like you were handcuffed." Crunch of her heel on the gravel. She wasn't dressed for the field today, but the office. Her freckles had faded, likely because she hadn't been outside as much as she used to.

"Maybe I was." He couldn't help but smile to himself, especially when she turned to appraise him. They had made it to his Crown Vic, he unlocking it and starting the car to warm up the engine. He hurriedly tossed in the backseat handfuls of the fast food wrappers and papers off the passenger seat so she could get in.

Hiss. The radio came to life. "Ten eighteen, shoplifter resisting arrest!"

"Ten twenty-one, back up requested. Suspected Ten-fifty four."

Looks like the case will have to wait. He was relieved, not sure how to approach this with John, sure that the man would not like knowing his wife's case was covered by him.

But he'd worry about it later, when he was off the clock.

It was never ending, now, another symptom of how swamped the department was. Mark decided they should respond, reaching to pick up the microphone.

Her hand shot out and grabbed his right hand and she pulled up the sleeve of his jacket. The bruises looked worse than they felt, a clear band of green and purple where his watch had been followed with what included a mean looking scrape from where the guy had scratched him.

"Cuffs don't leave marks this wide. Or break skin like this. You and I both know that," she smirked and released him, reaching over to spin the heat dial. She was still familiar with his car and messed with his console with calm comfort. "You've also lost weight. And don't stink of last night's booze. And you look like you haven't been sleeping much these nights."

He narrowed his eyes. "You look like shit too."

She was smiling. "Life has a way of doing that. But I'm glad you've quit drinking. Not sure what else you're up to, but it's an improvement."

He put the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking spot aggressively. He flipped the lights and the car soared off the lot to respond to the shoplifter, waiting for the tingling of her touch to fade from his skin.

He had forgotten how easily she could find all the little details about him. It was one of the reasons he admired her. And feared that she would pick up on something that would put her in harm's way.

"How about you? You quit smoking?"

She cleared her throat, the snap of her chewing gum more ferocious. She was unphased by his sharp turns and high speed. He still drove saner than she ever did. "Trying. On the patch. And gum."

"I'm not the only one who smells better these days."

"Fuck you."

He laughed, low and soft, the atmosphere in his car warm and pleasant and fuck, he missed having her next to him.

Homeless children with torn clothes and gray faces were huddling together on the curb, shaking styrofoam cups. Mark turned a corner to see all the cars along the street permanently parked from their tires missing and their frames propped by concrete stretcher blocks and spray painted across.

"Fuck, is this Caroline street?" Will murmured, sitting up to absorb the carnage.

"Now just another part of the Crossroads. Businesses pulled out after the last riot and now it's just another block down."

"Jesus. That's why Rigg looked beat up last week? I didn't know they moved in this fast."

"Shit's fucked. Why Grissom's practically licking your boots to stay."

Awkward silence. "I have to go."

"Can we be straight with each other Will?"

"When are you not? Sure."

"Are you leaving because of us?"

She snorted. "Please. You couldn't get rid of me if you tried."

He smirked, relieved. "You just can't get enough of me."

Another awkward pause. He must have hit a nerve.

"It's not about you, Mark. Though you certainly didn't help," she grumbled the last part.

"So what gives?" He probably was overstepping, asking something so personal, when he wasn't involved with her anymore. But after all we've gone through? Together? They were bound, like invisible chains to each other. He had closed doors in her face. But there was a part of each other that they would never be rid of. He dared to pry. "Is it some guy?"

"Ha!" Her reaction was forced and fast. He had pissed her off. "My father, Mark. That's the guy."

His heart relaxed back in his chest. Though he knew Strahm and her were starting something, this felt like a win. She had not staked a claim yet. "Oh. I heard he's awake. Is he okay?"

"Yeah. He's fine."

"So why you jumping ship?" It was like negotiating with a toddler. "Maybe I can help with whatever it is you need to get done."

"No." Another fast response. This one hurt his pride but he kept his hand gripping the steering wheel and his eyes on the road. "I'm getting help elsewhere. But thank you."

"It's him, isn't it?" He didn't hold back the edge in his voice, the anger.

"If you mean Peter Strahm, then yes." She must have picked up on the mood. Yet she must have wanted to hurt him, after everything he had done to her. He would have acknowledged the fairness in it. But it still filled him with the desire to hit and break something. "I'm going off grid to do some personal investigative work to find the man who murdered my mother. Who took my father away from me for most of my life. I want him locked away. And Peter's going to help me."

"You should have told me," he muttered. He pulled over, no longer in the mood to tackle some petty thief.

"You wanted nothing to do with me, remember?" Her voice was wavering and sharp.

She looked like she was about to cry. He took out a handkerchief and handed it to her. "You're right. I'm sorry."

She was sniffling. He could do nothing but sit there, knowing he was the reason she looked to be in so much pain.

"I know. I know this is all outside our control. That the world is so messed up. And we're just trying to make sense of it. And I'm sorry Angelina is gone and Seth Baxter escaped punishment because of me. And I'm sorry now, that you're ready to make up and that I'm not. Whatever you want from me, Mark, I can't give you. I'm so tired. And I just want to be happy. I'm so tired of being alone."

"I want that, too, Will." He wrapped his arms around her, trying to squeeze the pain out of her, to promise that this wouldn't happen again, but he kept his mouth shut. He knew better. All he could say was, "I'm sorry. For everything."

"You have nothing to apologize for," she whispered.

"I do. I have everything to apologize for. I'm an idiot." He hesitated but decided to speak what was lingering in his mind. "Angie… wouldn't have wanted this. I see that now."

They sat there for long minutes, until his phone buzzed. He pulled away to check, a lump in his throat forming at the phone number that appeared. He flipped it and the text read, 'Midnight'.

He had almost forgotten. Tonight, he would need to meet John. For what, he could only imagine.

"Who is it?" She was wiping her eyes, looking as though the cry session had helped calm her down.

"Rigg. Has to go out on a mission tonight. He needs me to tell Tracy, he doesn't have time to explain." He lied so easily to her and seeing her shaking like a leaf because of what he put her through, a rush of guilt gave him heartburn.

"Strange, he should just send her a text, it shouldn't take long," Will muttered, wiping her tears and sniffling. If she wasn't so upset, she probably would have detected his deception.

Haven't you already hurt her enough?

He took a deep breath. "If the FBI can help you find the bastard, I get it. Whatever you want. Will, I'll support you. Stay here. Or go. You don't owe this department shit."

She was hiccuping, surprised, and hope sparkled in her wet eyes. "Mark."

"But if you want, I can help as well." He knew he had no time to devote to seriously looking into it now, but he would try to make time. "Will, take that leave of absence. Take as much time as you need. But when you're done catching the guy, what are you planning on doing next?"

She blinked. "I haven't been thinking about that."

The Will he knew would have never not come up with contingency plans. Just more evidence that Strahm was making her not think straight. "Take it from someone who's burned one too many bridges. It's a lot harder than just leaving a lane open, rebuilding what you've destroyed."

"You're right." She nodded. "It's hard for both sides." She understood what he meant. She always did.

"Don't give up on us, Will. Do what you need to do. But know that we'll be waiting here for you. Me, especially."

"Mark," her mouth was agape, the words dying in her throat. "Don't wait for me."

He blinked. He would have said something cruel back to her. But he managed to grasp at those sentences and pull them back, deep inside him, where he could shove them into a box and lock it up. "I'll wait, however long it takes. You're the last person I have."

She turned away, shoulders raised, pain on her face. "I - I don't think you understand. I'm in a relationship with Peter." She didn't say more but she didn't need to. I'm in love with someone else. Not you. And this is final.

"Yeah. I figured. I know." He leaned on the steering wheel, trying to not make it obvious he was holding onto it for support. His head spun. He never took rejection well. But for now, this had to be. Even if she wanted to get back together, he couldn't be what she needed just yet. Not now, with his new night job.

But thinking that he was losing her, to that prick, he wouldn't allow.

You could kill him. Slit his throat and bury him and tomb him in cement. You're already this deep in. Fucking Jigsaw could have another trap set aside. John finds fault in everyone. Wouldn't be hard to find something that would motivate him to target Strahm.

But he pushed it back in his box. "You, of all people, deserve a shot at happiness." He, too, didn't need to say any more to her. She was reading his face, absorbing his meaning.

And I'm not the same man I used to be, back when I was all yours. And now, it's too late for me.

He gave her one last smile, reaching over to brush the stream of tears off her cheek. She's safe, if she's away from this city. Away from Jigsaw. "And all I want from you now, is to stop crying so damn much. We're at work, partner."

"Asshole," she had a small smile. "Friends?" She sometimes gave him a peak at the juvenile innocence she pretended she lost long ago.

"Friends Forever." Til death do us part.