Breathless

by NotAContrivance

An investigation goes left, and Morgan and Karadec find themselves in a life-or-death situation. Karadec groans through his teeth, and Morgan just shrugs. "You are going to be the death of me," he mutters, briefly closing his eyes and exhaling through his nose.

The idea of adapting this scene has been tugging at me since I first saw it, so I finally sat down and rewatched the whole thing in painstaking detail and put most of this together in one night. If you've seen the French original, you'll know which episode it is (season 1, episode 7 if you haven't). It's an important episode for the entire plot of the show (and kind of sets up the second season basically), so I'll honestly be sort of surprised if they don't adapt it in some way in the future. This was my way.

If you haven't seen it, the plot of the episode itself is kind of bad and not important, so it's not really delved into much. But here are the basic details if you need them: Axel is the dead guy. They arrest a young guy who confesses super early on into the investigation, but neither Morgan nor Karadec are really buying it. Yes, the police work in this episode is extremely questionable. Morgan gets into a big blow up with the boss over it, and Karadec decides to investigate it with her on the DL to find out who really did it. They also eat dinner at a Michelin star restaurant and get ice cream; it's a cute time. Incidentally, do yourself a favor and watch the original; it's worth it.

There's some diversion from the original plot for both dramatic/tonal reasons and cultural differences. Partly I remembered how it went wrong and liked my imagining more. But also American criminals are more likely to have guns, and American Karadec is definitely more physical than his French counterpart. The French version is also much more comedic in a way that isn't as appropriate in an American police procedural, so this sort of dwells on the life-and-death of it all in a way they don't do in the original, where the conflict is more on the investigation itself and the consequences of that.

Anyway, enjoy! Review if you can. No spoilers really, but it does reference Episode 10. (I feel like the way I tagged this references what I think of their relationship [low-key I find the discourse around it funny both because of all the adaptations and where they stand on that, and the way it's been set-up on the show. I mean she's blown her actual love interest off twice to go talk to Karadec, is that not obvious enough? But I digress], but it can be interpreted romantically or platonically)

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Morgan's always known that life can change in an instant. She'd found that out first with Roman, and she found that out an even harder way today. It strikes her later how incredibly fast it all happened, how quickly it escalated, and how quickly it was all over in just the span of ten to fifteen minutes.

It starts with Karadec saying in the car that he wanted to take her some place. They're on their way back from some lackluster interviews. She's a little excited at the surprise until he informs her he's taking her to the victim's trailer. Axel's girlfriend had told him where it was and, more alarmingly, that some guy named Tony was looking for Axel. It's a decently-sized trailer in relatively good condition in a secluded place up by the beach, a location so pristine and beautiful that only a surfer would know about it. She can see why he lived there, though she can't understand how it's legal or how he could afford it. Unlike her, Karadec didn't think to bring the victim's keys, so she turns to him with a pleading look. He looks at the lock, making a comment about how it won't be that hard, rolls his eyes, and easily picks it with a swipe of a credit card. It's a bit impressive, and she thinks she likes this side of Karadec, how unfettered he is by the rules he always lives by.

The inside is actually pretty nice, especially for a trailer, and neater than she would've thought. They enter, and she makes a beeline for the bedroom and the comfy-looking bed while Karadec pokes around the kitchen and living area. She can sense the face Karadec makes when she flops down onto the bed, lounging as if it's her own as she looks around the room for clues about the man. "Can't you take anything seriously?" Karadec grumbles, opening cabinets and drawers.

Morgan smirks. "You know the answer to that!" Karadec grunts, annoyed, and begins checking between the couch cushions. "And it's hard to take vanlife seriously." He's wearing gloves, and she is not. She's sure he's going to lecture her about contaminating evidence and crime scenes when he notices, but she's already sure they aren't going to find much here. Still, she scoots forward a little to the end of the bed so she can peer in his trashcan. Just receipts, food wrappers, and condom wrappers. How predictable.

She rolls back onto the bed, enjoying it after the long car ride. It's been a long day already, and the desire to sink into this stranger's mattress and enjoy a nap in the sun is a little too tempting especially after the decadent meal she'd had earlier. "You know, Karadec, I was sure you were the most boring man in the world. But I have to say being on the other side of the law suits you!" she calls out, raising her voice a little so he'll hear her over his rummaging.

Just like that she can feel his eyes on her, and Morgan stretches like a cat before flicking her gaze up to his. He exhales, irritated, and replaces the cushion. "I'm not breaking the law, just looking at an alternative angle for this case," he argues, looking very put out about it. "It's proper procedure to investigate the victim's residence. I'm being thorough." It does say something about the investigation that they hadn't even bothered to locate the victim's residence or a next of kin, despite being several days in and already having a suspect in custody who's confessed, until now.

Still, Morgan smiles. She enjoys that she's made him come around to her way of doing things for once. He's much more fun this way when he goes off-script. It's rare for her to find someone who can even come close to her frequency, but Karadec can keep up. She likes bouncing ideas off of him, the give, the take. She likes this way of working together more than the confines of his police rules. Something about it feels electric, like a true partnership, but she can't quite put it into words. She feels like he's starting to see her.

"Sometimes you even come close to being cool, you know that?" she adds, glancing out at him. Admittedly Morgan's arranging herself so she's a bit on display here, legs sprawled out just so, breasts jutting out just the right amount, and of course she's on a bed. She wants to play with him a little, wants to see how far outside of the lines she can get him to color. He probably won't bite, but that doesn't mean it isn't fun. Cracking Karadec's stoic facade as satisfying as trying to make a guard at Buckingham Palace smile, and she's noticed the way he sometimes looks at her when he doesn't realize she's watching—with a kind of quiet admiration.

And yes, okay, maybe it's been too long since she's gotten laid, so Karadec is starting to look like a great option. Sue her for trying to enjoy herself at work.

Karadec scoffs, makes a face. "Thanks, I think?" he quips, moving on to search the shelves. Morgan viscerally feels him not looking at her, and it only makes her more determined to get him to do just that. She twists and turns on the bed, bouncing a little, but that isn't working either. She bends down to check under the bed and finds nothing of note, just underwear, tissues, and dust bunnies.

There's nothing of interest on his walls either, just pictures of places he'd like to surf, waves, and a map. Strangely, there seems to be more personal items at his surfing school. She frowns and decides to start talking since he'll have to respond to that. She doesn't exactly know what she's going to say until the words are out of her mouth. "I know I can be a lot. I'm kind of a pain in the ass sometimes."

He looks up, quirking his lips, just in time for her to cross her legs. He swallows, then raises a brow. "Just sometimes?" She tries not to take that personally since she said it herself, and it's not the first time someone's said that about her, and, of course, it does seem like he's joking. But with Karadec, it's hard to tell. He sighs, his vexed expression softening a little, and she wonders if her insecurity has shown through. "You just have a serious problem with respecting authority."

She sits up a little straighter. It's obvious and certainly not the first time she's heard that (thanks shrinks, school counselors, and any authority figure she's ever met!). Most often she hears it in the context of correcting someone who is supposed to be her elder or somehow better or above her. They don't like being shown up by someone like her. She knows how it looks, how embarrassing it must be for them, but is she really supposed to sit around and be quiet for the sake of someone else's ego? Is she supposed to just let them be wrong? No one ever answers those questions, but she certainly hears about it every time she gets in trouble for being insufficiently respectful to some insufferable figure who thinks they deserve respect they haven't earned. But it's somehow different hearing those words from his lips.

"No, that's not it at all," she disagrees, pressing herself up a bit higher. "It's authority figures who have a problem with me." He gives her a somewhat exasperated look then, as if to say "because you're being disrespectful?", but she just shakes her head. Respect goes both ways; why should she respect someone who doesn't respect her, who thinks less of her for who she is? Those same people always wanted to kiss her ass when they found out she was a genius, right up until they realized she was of no use to them or wasn't going to play ball. "Authority doesn't always deserve respect, you know," she continues, turning over onto her stomach.

She puts her elbows down on the bed, wiggling a little to be more comfortable. Morgan knows this position gives him a better view down her slightly too-low-cut blouse and a better angle of her ass, and she's not disappointed. His eyes snap to her, give her body a quick, lingering scan, and then abruptly flick away. His jaw tenses, and, if she didn't know better, she'd say he was possibly blushing? She smiles to herself and wraps a strand of hair around her finger. "You bothered by that, boss man?"

He mutters something under his breath that she can't hear. He's always seemed like the sort of person who thought he was owed respect due to his position or manners, something like that. You didn't decide to wear a badge if you didn't think you were owed something. She can tell from the way he holds himself how badly he wants to be taken seriously. And she's always wondered why when authority seems to come so easily to him; what does he have to prove?

She may or may not be seeing things, but he looks a little redder. Is it from suppressed frustration or has she flustered him? It's hard to tell with his complexion, though. He moves to search the opposite set of shelves, jerky gestures conveying his frustration. She does this sometimes, pushes and pushes until someone snaps. She doesn't always mean to, but, then again, she can't always help it.

He doesn't say anything for so long that she thinks he's going to ice her out, so she jolts a little when he speaks. "Well, it would be convenient if you could solve that problem someday. Might help you out," he says deceptively casually, closing and flicking through the few books this dumb surfer owned. There's a slight edge to his voice, though; she can recognize a barb from miles away, and she knows what he's saying, or, rather, what he's alluding to. Her argument with Selena yesterday. He'd called it a tantrum, but he'd also agreed with her and come to work on this in secret while dodging Selena's calls, so that somewhat negated the sting of being equated with a child. This is nothing new either. People are always telling her to be more mature or grow up, and she isn't about to start listening now, especially when it's so sensible and boring.

She ignores the allusion and stretches, making a little noise that definitely has Adam stop in his tracks for a second. "Why?" she asks coyly, batting her eyelashes at him. "Because you want me to obey you?" Karadec-Adam nearly drops the book and turns to face her directly, his eyes flashing. She tilts her head to the side and wonders a little if that's his thing, if he gets off on the power and authority. Most men like him do, but it's just a guess. She sits up on her knees, edging closer, meeting and holding his gaze, even though she had to look up to do it. "Do you want to give me orders, huh?"

She's fully aware her voice tipped into flirtatious territory three sentences ago and that she raised her eyebrows suggestively, but she's rarely ever this obvious about it. She hasn't flirted with him like this since she made a joke about having an orgasm in a diner just to see if he'd have an apoplexy. Ultimately, she'd ended up playing herself with her imitation of Karadec having an orgasm because he'd lectured her in the car on the way back about sexual harassment and mutterings about "I can see why you were fired from your other jobs." She'd shot back that he clearly wasn't going to report her or he would've done it already, and he'd gotten awfully worked up about a joke, so he must be sexually frustrated. Karadec had sighed, frustrated in another way, and grumbled about deviants and perverts and the mandatory sexual harassment training he was going to assign her. She'd rolled her eyes and scoffed that he was probably pleased a woman had mentioned him in a sexual context since clearly it had been some time since that had happened.

Karadec said without thinking that he wanted to strangle her. It was more of a moan, really. Her eyes lit up at this unintentional goldmine of a threat he definitely didn't mean. She'd leaned in, putting her hand on his knee. His eyes burned into hers. "Who knew you liked it rough, Adam? You into bondage?" Then he had taken a deep, deep shuddering breath and somehow not taken the bait (even despite her reaching for his handcuffs and asking if he wanted to put them to use. He'd given her a warning look that very much said he was considering cuffing her and throwing her in the back and not in a sexy way). Interestingly, he also hadn't removed her hand from his knee now that she thought about it, though he had smacked her hands away from his cuffs. Though he was very clearly fuming (his face had definitely been red then), he'd then wondered aloud why she was suddenly so extremely interested in his sex life with a dramatic eyebrow raise. Which had admittedly shut her up. They'd been stuck in the car for a very long time after that due to terrible rush hour traffic, and it had been so excruciatingly silent and awkward that she'd wanted to pull off her skin until Karadec had slyly put on some jazz music. She was still annoyed he'd gotten one over on her.

To make matters worse, she'd then proceeded to have her first (yes, first) very detailed sex dream about him later that night. It started at a crime scene with her bringing donuts. For some reason, he bites into a cream-filled donut after chastising her for bringing them in the first place, and she wipes the cream off with her finger and puts it in her mouth. He went on about gloves and there was a whole thing with a condom. He did not look quite so stoic in her imagination. In her dreams, he'd been redfaced and sweaty and every bit as intense as he already was. It shouldn't have been so hot, but it was. She squirms a little at the memory and nearly jumps when she sees him charging towards her.

He gestures to her pose instead, and she finds herself disappointed. "Can you just stop the show for one minute?" he demanded, so riled up his nostrils were flaring. She deflates a little, biting her lip, but that doesn't deescalate the situation. Maybe she's finally pushed him too far. Karadec raises his voice a bit, getting in her face. His eyes turn cold. "If you keep going on like this, you'll be fired. As usual."

That stings, and she finally sits like a normal person. His words are like an ice cold shower, and nothing's any fun anymore. He doesn't want to play with her. She knows deep down that he's right. She knows she crossed a line with Selena earlier and that you can't play with the police. She knows that she needs this job and doesn't want to lose it, and she doesn't need the reminder, but he apparently thinks she does. More than anything, though, she doesn't want to prove him right. Karadec instantly turns his back on her, heading back into the living room to do God knows what.

But he's still too agitated to actually do his job, and he surprises her by looking at her over his shoulder. It doesn't especially seem like he wants to given how he keeps looking away, but it's like he physically can't stop himself from saying these things. "You have a real talent for this. Don't mess it up," he growls. He stares at her for several long moments, and she looks down, feeling embarrassed and a little ashamed because he genuinely believes this. Karadec is the strong silent type, so any compliment coming from him carries so much weight and meaning, especially after their rocky start.

She hasn't really ever given Karadec credit for turning a corner on her so quickly. He'd been nasty with her at first and had ever reason to be, really, since she'd waltzed into his police station and told him they had the wrong suspect. He, possibly the most type-A obsessive detective alive since Monk, been forced to work with her, an untrained, impulsive know-it-all lacking in diplomacy and professionalism, against his will. Despite her repeatedly violating police procedures, being sloppy with evidence, bringing her messy self and life to crime scenes, and generally driving him insane, he'd come to respect her expertise almost immediately. He'd adjusted and learned how to accommodate her in ways that had taken others years, and he didn't often complain about things like having to pick her up or It wasn't just him, of course, it was everyone at the precinct, but she was his responsibility, so it impacted him the most of all.

She'd thought at first that she was the one who needed to warm up to Karadec, to decide if he could be trusted, but she'd come to realize this case that it was really the other way around. To know that he'd follow her here against orders and over Selena's objections, to know that he trusted her, and it was mutual... it was a heady thing.

And it's clear from the look on his face that he's disappointed in her. She's disappointed many people and usually doesn't care, but it rarely aches like this. "You're too good," he reiterates, checking something or other in the living space so he won't look at her. He must've seen it all by now; maybe he just needs something to do with his hands. He clears his throat and then definitely avoids looking at her. "As a partner."

Did he just...?

She puts her feet on the ground, sitting up even straighter. He's finally called her his partner. Every time they're together, and he denies it, it drives her a little crazy. While it's technically correct, they spend all their time together. He doesn't go out in the field with Daphne or Oz when she's around. They're getting to the point where she knows most of his expressions and is working at reading his mind and can almost finish his sentences, and even their coworkers have made comments about how well they know each other. She's even been mistaken for his girlfriend or wife several times by both strangers and even his ex and weird ex-colleague. But he's finally acknowledging it, this milestone she didn't know she was waiting for, so she's irrationally and alarmingly pleased about it. It's better than the catharsis she gets from solving a case, because this is catharsis with Karadec himself. She finally knows where she stands with him.

He makes the mistake of glancing over at her mid-revelation and sees how excited she is, and he groans. "Don't give me that look!"

She physically can't not give him this look, but she tries to look a bit less wide-eyed and deranged. Morgan doesn't succeed based on the look he is giving her, and he turns his back on her to look in some distant upper cabinet or corners, feigning nonchalance. He'll do anything to avoid an emotional conversation.

Just then, she realizes the reason for his lecture then, what he wasn't saying. It wasn't just her behavior as usual, or him being frustrated at her self-sabotage and wasting all her potential. He doesn't want her to be fired. He actually wants her to keep working with him. As his partner. He's accepted her. She regards him quietly with new eyes, watches as he investigates what passes for a kitchen here. There's something about the slow, cautious way he's moving that makes it clear he's uncomfortable with how much he's said today, that he hadn't meant to say any of it.

She lets the silence go on for a long, pregnant moment until she finally can't take it anymore. "... So... we're partners now, eh?" She tries not to sound too overjoyed about it, but some of the glee leaks out.

He cringes, exasperated, shaking his head. He nearly hits it on one of the cabinets. "I shouldn't have said that. I don't know what I was thinking-" She pouts, but she knows he doesn't mean this. He wasn't exactly under duress or anything. She didn't force him to admit it. Morgan opens her mouth to argue, but just then she hears a car outside. She leans back to peek out the window and sees two cars. The doors are opening and untold amounts of rough-looking men emerge, like it's some sort of mafia clown car. Nothing good will come from this.

"Adam, two cars of sketchos at 9 o'clock!" she interjects, gesturing to the window with her head. He's seemingly heard them too because he's already on alert. He ducks behind one of the cabinets and peers out one of the living room windows, watching them. None of the men look familiar to her and presumably not to Karadec either since he says nothing for a few seconds.

Once the men start walking to the car, he's suddenly within an arm's length of her. "Hide, get down!" he hisses, gesturing towards the floor, possibly even under the bed. She absolutely refuses to get under there, but she does get down on the floor on her knees so they won't be able to see her from outside. Karadec locks the door quickly and joins her, making almost no noise. He sits down on the floor, his back against the wall. He holds a finger to his lips, and Morgan crouches down to make herself even smaller. He nods silently.

They hear the shouting first. "Axel, Axel! I want my money!" They exchange glances. Tony, presumably? But who are the rest? Whoever they are, they didn't kill Axel since they have no idea he's dead, which probably means they also don't watch the news or read newspapers either.

Maybe if they're completely silent, they'll go away. It had worked for Axel and his girlfriend before, after all, and this was a way less awkward situation. "Come on out!" another one shouted. She's practically holding her breath here, wondering how long it will take for them to either leave or try to come in. She needs a plan for the latter.

"I've been waiting 14 years!" the voice from before yells. Morgan wonders what he's been waiting for for the past 14 years and why he's asking for it now. He must've served time, right? Even better, they were dealing with an ex-con. "Did you think I'd just forget about it?" He's getting angrier. Morgan thinks their victim is pretty scummy, but she can't really blame him for thinking this man would just forget, given this is at least his second visit, and Tony's already gone 14 years without said money so doesn't need it. Tony is clearly a chump. Axel probably already spent all the money on this trailer.

Karadec leans back, loosening his tie. That's one of his tells from when he's nervous. It's his way of trying to self-soothe or relax, she thinks. He says the obvious, almost under his breath, "Guess we found the famous Tony."

She gets an idea, mostly because she has to know what this whole thing is about. Money, obviously, but what is the situation here? Did Axel owe Tony money, like was it a loan shark thing? Was someone being blackmailed? Or was it an investment, a crime? "Let me try something," she whispers, holding up a finger.

Karadec meets her gaze and shakes his head, his eyes widening. "No, no, no!" He doesn't reach for her to cover her mouth like he should've.

Naturally, she ignores him, deepening her voice to sound like a man. They won't know through the door, right? "No, Tony, I don't have your money!" she shouts back. It's not entirely convincing, but it works on these idiots. She hears Karadec cursing a blue streak mostly under his breath. She gets why he's mad and why he's looking at her like she betrayed him or did something dramatic, but it didn't seem like these men were going to leave without talking to someone. Plus they'd seen their car. They knew they were there anyways!

Tony reacts with the confusion and elaboration she's hoping for. She hopes he's too confounded to be more frustrated with her, but that might be too much to wish for. She's not saying anything else to him if she can help it. "What are you talking about? I was your angel for the 30 grand!"

She almost smiles and points at Karadec. "Angel is the slang term for back-up during a robbery/home invasion."

He looks somewhat annoyed, his brow furrowing with those ever-present worry lines. "How do you know that?" Apparently he'd known that.

She waves it off. "I'll explain later." She doesn't know how she's going to explain later. He definitely won't enjoy her knowledge of criminality, but she's bought herself a little time. Time they really don't have right now because just then the henchmen start moving and shaking the trailer from outside. They're literally trying to rattle them, how original. She almost thinks it's an earthquake, but the men are too loud. They're grunting like pigs. "If the trailer's a-rocking, don't come a-knocking," she says in a sing-songy voice.

Karadec groans through his teeth, and Morgan just shrugs. "You are going to be the death of me," he mutters, briefly closing his eyes and exhaling through his nose. The henchmen keep shaking the trailer and even seem to step it up a notch. Given the increased force, she deduces that at least one other man has joined them in pushing and pulling. She wonders how much force this trailer can take, but she'd need to know more about the material composition and tensile strength to figure that out, and now really isn't the type for math problems.

She doesn't really know what they're trying to do, and isn't sure they do either (why haven't they just kicked the door down already?), but she doesn't like it. She feels trapped, and so she starts freaking out. All of the rolling and tumbling has sent her and Karadec flying into the walls, objects, and, worse of all, themselves, so their faces are suddenly alarmingly close. His face is about 2 inches from hers, and she's not sure if they've ever been this close before, much less looking basically into each others' eyes. It's too intimate; it's not appropriate; it's distracting, and it's just plain weird. But here they are. "Adam, what do we do?" She hears the edge in her voice, which is way too shrill, too high.

He doesn't look away, doesn't flinch, doesn't even react to their proximity aside from trying to shield her from injury. His stoicism has driven her crazy from the beginning; he's basically a cynical cop cliché in that respect, but she appreciates it now when she needs someone with his sangfroid to tell her what to do. She's always thought this was just his personality, but maybe it's just an occupational hazard, a reaction to all the insane things he has seen in his time on the force. "Calm down," he says, unhelpfully. His voice is perfectly level, and she'd almost think he's as calm as he's trying to get her to be if he hadn't loosened his tie further and wasn't pursing his lips like he was trying to think of a plan. She hopes he has a way out because, for once, she's got nothing. It's been a while since she's researched camper vans, and she can't remember what she learned in this state of fear.

She reaches out to hold onto the walls, to hold onto something mostly to steady herself so she isn't knocked around the cabin. She can't very well hold onto Adam in this situation, metaphorically or physically. Morgan's about a few twists away from ending up in his lap, and despite her earlier flirtations, that's not how she wants to end up there. "What do you mean calm down? They'll tear this place apart!" she cries, trying to whisper. She can hear the hysteria build in her voice, which has gone up even more.

She sees the strain on his face, but he's gotten out his phone and is dialing for back-up while gesturing for her to calm down. He keeps repeating it like it's a mantra, but she just can't calm down in the middle of a tornado (this must be like a lesser version of what it feels like to be caught in a tornado, no?) when she doesn't know where this is going to end. She grabs the wall near his head and peers out of what she can see from the window. Her arm touches his hand in the process; she's not sure why she notices that.

It doesn't look any better than it did before; she can see less of the men, probably because they're pressing on the trailer. "Selena, Morgan and I need back-up. I can't explain right now, but can you track my phone?" He manages to rattle off an impressive description of where they are, says they're being harassed by at least 5 guys, and promises to get license plates.

They're outnumbered and clearly outcrazied, but they do have a few advantages now that she reviews. 1. Tony and his goons don't know how many of them there are. 2. They don't realize she and Karadec aren't Axel or 3. know that he's dead. 4. They don't know that they're cops, and 5. they don't know that Adam has a gun. Maybe they can stall until back-up arrives, though that'll have to be at least 20 minutes, maybe more. They could use some of these to their advantage... if they don't get killed first. She bites her lip and debates asking Karadec if he has a plan, but he's still on the phone with Selena, who can't be happy to hear from him.

What if these guys have guns too? Guys like this, petty criminals, they always do, and Adam just has the one since they won't give her a gun. Neither of them are wearing any kind of bulletproof vest. She doesn't think this is the ideal set-up for a shootout hideout either, what with the siding being made of cheap aluminum that the thugs had probably dented already.

Then she hears Tony screaming to go, go, go, go! Her whole being tenses up, getting into action. She can feel Karadec do the same. They're both bracing for impact. The cabin is still moving, which can't be helping whatever they're trying to do now. She can't see what's happening outside but hears a trunk and finds herself reaching for his hand. Hers is sweaty. She wonders when he took his gloves off. Adam looks up at her, surprised, and momentarily stops talking. But he doesn't let go either. She hears metal noises and thinks, for a moment, that they're going to bust down the door or break their way in. They only have a minute or two now.

Karadec hangs up and puts his phone in his pocket to record what's happening since he isn't wearing a body camera. "Don't stay there. Get up," he says as he rises, motioning for her to do the same. He instinctively positions himself in front of her behind the wall or bathroom door, whatever it is. It's all the cover he has in this corner, and it'll have to do. Then he lets go of her hand and takes out his gun, and she's never been so scared, not even during the hostage situation. She trusts Karadec, she does, but she doesn't trust this tin can and bullets. She thinks irrationally that she'd feel better if she was still holding his hand, but she knows he let go to protect them. She stays in the doorway, bracing herself and peering out from behind Karadec's massive frame.

They hear knocking. The noises at the front door get progressively louder. "Calm down!" Karadec barks, reaching for his badge with his other hand. It doesn't work any better on the goons than it did on her.

"Open the damn door!" She learns later that they used bolt-cutters, and that's why it seems like the door just kind of swings open, revealing a ponytailed henchmen, a short-haired and furious little man who must be Tony, and several others. At least the trailer has stopped shaking, so she's no longer feeling slightly nauseous and has steady ground under her feet.

They start to come in, but Karadec holds his gun out past the wall. He makes sure they can't see much more of him to shoot. "Stay back and calm down. I'm a cop. Don't make this a crime scene." She's heard him threaten criminals and suspects before, but there's a lethality here that there wasn't before because he's been literally backed into a corner. He has his eyes on them; he's probably going to shoot if they come any closer. "I don't want to have to shoot you, but I can promise you, you do not want to have smoke with me right now."

All of the henchmen are mostly frozen. Ponytail has entered the room, the rest are gathered around the open door. They're looking to each other but mostly Tony, trying to figure out what to do from here. Aside from Ponytail and Tony, one is young and blondish and almost handsome, another has a meaty face and is balding, and the last one she can't quite make out, but he seems to have long hair and be wearing a black shirt with a denim vest. Adam keeps talking because he's been trained to both escalate and deescalate situations, and it seems like he's trying to do both right now. "I have back-up coming. I don't know your friend Axel, and I definitely don't have his money, so why don't you all turn around and leave before this gets ugly, all right?"

There's some grumbling and murmuring among the crew, and Morgan lets herself get her hopes up. But Tony laughs. "Yeah right you're with the cops," he scoffs, and all of a sudden two other goons are pouring into the room, heading straight for Karadec. He pushes her back with one hand, probably hoping they won't find or notice her, and fires at them several times, clipping the blonde one in the shoulder and the bald one in the leg. She's not sure if he was aiming for those places, shooting as a warning, or if his aim is off due to all the movement. The injured men fall back, and Tony stays outside.

"Stop! No one else needs to get hurt," Karadec bellows. "I repeat, stop! Don't come any further."

It's a fruitless effort. Ponytail, who'd immediately ducked and gotten out of the way when Karadec started shooting, pulls out a gun just as the fourth henchman storms in as back-up, his own gun in hand. They're both pointing them square at Karadec's chest (he's had to step out to aim), so it's not really a decision at that point. Just like that, he's outmatched. He holds his gun up in the air with one hand and holds the other hand in the air. He manages to briefly glance over his shoulder at her, motioning with an intense slide of his eyes for her to hide in the bedroom where they can't see her.

She has mixed feelings about it. She doesn't want to leave him with these goons all by himself, even though back-up is on the way. But she only has about a second to do anything, so she does what he's suggesting and ducks back into the bedroom and behind the more promising side of the doorframe, out of sight.

Even though the men can't see her, she can still see everything that transpires from her vantage point. The grimacing blond gets up and takes Karadec's Glock, and the other three men grab Karadec, pulling him out of the trailer. "You should really calm down, man." Given that he's shot two of them, that's unlikely, but she supposes he has to try and build a rapport. "I'm not lying about being a cop. My badge is on my belt. I'm with the LAPD. You know you can get up to 15 years for assaulting an officer, not to mention involuntary imprisonment-" Ponytail pushes him down the steps. He stumbles and is grabbed by the other long-haired goon.

"What are you, a lawyer now?" Ponytail sneers before punching Karadec right in the mouth. The other long-haired criminal and another one she doesn't recognize who is wearing fingerless gloves are holding him back by the arms, so he doesn't have a chance to defend himself, much less fight back. She hears the impact and him grunting, then nothing. He won't give them the satisfaction of hearing him in pain, she supposes.

He's silent for a moment too long for her comfort, but then he spits and continues with remarkable self-possession, "No, I'm just trying to think in your own best interest." One of the men scoffed. "And it's kidnapping if you cross state lines. That's a federal crime. If you let me go now and leave, you wouldn't even get charged for trespassing." It was partially true, if he'd drop the assaulting an officer charge against Ponytail. Not that he would because anyone who punches a cop completely unprovoked and unnecessarily has done worse and possibly gotten away with it.

They don't seem to know or care that he isn't Axel, which seems odd as their blond surfer victim does not even remotely resemble Karadec, but they don't let him explain anything else. No one else is in the trailer now, so she crawls over to the window and peeks out. The goons are taking Karadec towards the car, and she knows that pretty soon it'll be time for him to fight because he is absolutely not getting taken to a second location alive, and that terrifies her. He's already tensing up like he's mentally preparing for it, just waiting for the right moment to strike. When he does, it could get even uglier than it is already. She swallows hard.

They're all yelling at him mostly unintelligibly, but Karadec keeps trying to talk his way out of it. She'd do the same in his position but probably would've been more annoying and possibly gotten herself shot already; men like these really didn't like hearing facts from an intelligent woman. "This is all one big misunderstanding guys. You don't know what you're doing." It would work if these men had an intellect or the ability to think ahead, but they're so dumb they belong in a kid's movie. He should've told them to quit while they were ahead.

"Come here!"

"Stop messing with us, you bastard!" The shouts are getting more threatening, and Morgan is increasingly feeling like she needs to do something to help him. She knows it's not what Adam would want, but Adam is a bit tied up at the moment, and she thinks he could use some assistance. She isn't totally useless, after all. She has the best weapons of all—her brain and sheer determination to live!

"I'm not messing with you. I'm really with the police, I swear! Why would I lie about that?" He groans, and she wonders if they hit him again. It's hard to tell from the angle she's watching. If they did hit him, it was in the side.

"Why would you come here alone? Pigs always come in pairs. Kenny, check the trailer again!" Tony counters, gesturing to it. She hits the floor and tries to hide under the bed, but she isn't fast enough. The blond Karadec injured before storms in, clutching his shoulder. He immediately lays eyes on her and starts to pull her out, but Morgan isn't going quietly. She struggles against him with everything she has, making a big noise and kicking up as much of a fuss as possible both for the nonexistent passersby and to try and distract their would-be kidnappers? Murderers? Attackers? Best not to have a word for it.

"Let me go! Get your hands off of me!" she screams, aiming her hits at his weak spots. She gets an elbow into his solar plexus, steps on his foot at least once, tries for the groin a few times, but, more than anything, she keeps punching his shoulder, exactly where he was injured. It's not pretty or nice, but neither is kidnapping. He's bleeding on her. He's still physically stronger than her, though, so he can pull her across the room even as she's flailing against him, flinging limbs at him, but evidently she has weakened him to the point where another man has to take her from him. The other man, the bald, heavyset one who's now limping, pulls her down the stairs. She's a little offended they handed her off to the damaged henchmen, but they must be saving their best to hold back the absolute unit that is Karadec. "Let me go already!"

This scene has unfortunately also captured Karadec's attention, and he hates it, judging by the way his lips turn down at the corners. He's bleeding from the mouth. He even struggles a little against his captors, whose combined strength is apparently greater than his. "Get your hands off of her!" There's an urgency in his voice that betrays how irate he truly is, but he's mostly succeeding at playing it cool. Only she can hear that he's alarmed, and it makes her blood pressure spike even more than it already is. It's a warning these idiots won't recognize.

Baldy has enough sense to push her in a direction away from Karadec, even though he uses a little more force than necessary. She stumbles but catches herself. "Watch it!" she snaps, tugging her blue fuzzy leopard print jacket back up from where it had slid down her shoulders. Baldy scowls at her, showing off his repulsive dental work, but witnessing this has only made Karadec angrier. She watches his eyebrows knit together. She doesn't know if he's more furious at himself for getting into this situation and being unable to protect her or these men for whatever they're trying to do.

"Leave her alone! She's not a part of this," he insists. She raises an eyebrow, wondering how he's trying to play this and if he actually thinks they'll let her get away when she's a witness, but she sees Axel's front porch set-up and gets an idea. It's not a steel folding chair like on WWE, but he does have several lawn chairs and some construction materials that could do some damage. Her best chance out of this is with a weapon, and Baldy doesn't seem to have one. She can't tell if they're actually trying to restrain her or if they still haven't figured out what to do with her, but she can use that to her advantage. She fakes another stumble due to being pushed her around, falling a little too far, and grabs a lawn chair, which she promptly starts swinging at Baldy's head.

In the background, she hears Tony questioning her partner. "Who are you?"

"Detective Karadec, LAPD." He recites his badge number with entirely too much patience. "You're making a big mistake." He says it almost tauntingly, and she knows he's going to pay for that one. "If you let us go, I can even help you find Axel. He owes you money, right?" That's a lie, and it's one that even these fools aren't dumb enough to believe.

The soft part is just annoying to Baldy, so she folds the chair and starts beating him in earnest around the face with the metal part, dodging his hands. She also starts to target his wounded leg, trying to injure it more. Karadec hadn't gotten the femoral artery or his knee, but there's still a considerable amount of blood loss, and he's moving like he's punch-drunk. Eventually he falls over, and instead of making a break for it, she turns back to Karadec.

But the blond is back and not very happy. She hits him a few times with the chair, but it's damaged now and not as effective, so she drops it and just starts punching him again. The blond kind of catches her in spite of her best efforts, but she's now fighting to get back to Karadec. She's not going to leave him here. She keeps trying to hit the blond in the face with her shoulder. She can see how still Adam's being, how he isn't struggling. He's not intending to provoke them. He's trying to have a conversation, but he's not dealing with good faith actors.

"Where is Axel? Where is he?" Tony demands. She's sure Karadec is wondering as she is why he thinks a stranger who is also at his home looking for Axel would know where the man is, cop or not, but then remembers that, yes, Karadec does very well know where Axel is. If it were her being questioned, she'd just have said the morgue and been done with it, but she supposes Karadec either doesn't want them to know he's investigating a murder since they'd be prime suspects or... he doesn't think they'd believe him and doesn't want to set them off anymore.

She gets in some good punches on the blond and shoves him hard enough in his injured shoulder to knock him down again, but just as she leaves him behind, another goon enters the picture. Each one is more forgettable than the last. It's like Mortal Kombat on easy mode. She and this goon keep dodging each other, almost like they're dancing rather than fighting. Morgan doesn't realize Karadec isn't paying attention to Tony, much less that it's because he's focusing on her and pissed about it, until he raises his voice. She's never heard him this furious before. "I said leave her alone already! You need three guys to take out one woman?" he roars.

She preens a little at the compliment. Karadec would definitely take her in a fight if it came to it. But these wannabe bikers? No way. She finally knees the last contender in the groin and then shoves him backwards on top of one of the others, who is still on the ground groaning in pain.

Unfortunately for Karadec, not only do they not listen, but Tony himself is so enraged that he sucker punches her partner in the stomach. She looks over and sees Adam fall back before the goons catch him. She can't tell if they either falter with supporting his weight or mean to drop him, but he falls to his knees. She almost can't breathe. There's only one thought going through her head, which is grabbing a weapon and stopping them from hurting him anymore. She's going to get them out of this or at least stall for time until back-up arrives. Morgan dashes back over to the front porch and grabs the first weapon she can find, which happens to be a 2 by 4. It'll have to do.

Next thing she knows she's bashing Ponytail over the head with it from behind. It's too hard to break from hitting him, but not hard enough to do heavier damage. But it serves as a distraction, which temporarily suits her purposes. Unfortunately, the other longer-haired one punches Karadec in the face in reaction, sending him fully to the ground. Either Karadec has a glass face, or that was one hell of a punch, she thinks dumbly. To make matters even worse, Ponytail has turned around and manages to get a hold of the 2 by 4. He twists it from her grip and tosses it away like it's nothing, and she jumps on his back and starts kicking and hitting him, but she doesn't have the element of surprise for very long before he turns around and grabs her.

Morgan sees murder and other terrifying things in his eyes, and she lets out a blood-curdling scream. It's more out of instinct than actual fear; she has no spare energy for fear in this moment. There's just survival, and she will do whatever she can to get out of this, to get back to her kids, and to get Adam out of this alive. He'd do the same for her because that's what partners do. Ponytail slams Morgan into the side of Karadec's car, knocking the wind out of her. He's tall, too, so she's dangling off her feet, kicking out frantically, but nothing is connecting.

She hears Karadec shouting, but it's sounding increasingly distant. "Stop it! Calm down! Let her go! You don't want her. You want me. You can take me as a hostage. I'm a cop; your odds are better with me." She's trying to scratch this ponytailed bastard's eyes out, but she thinks she'll tease Karadec later about him thinking his life is worth more than hers. Dimly she registers that he must be desperate since he's now trying to bargain with them. He must really care to offer to trade his life for hers. But the thought slips away as Ponytail slaps her so hard she sees stars for a moment. She wonders why he doesn't just pull out the gun to force her into compliance, but something tells her he's a hands-on kind of guy.

He proves that seconds later by holding her up against the car by the throat with one hand. Ugh, he's even flexing his strength with his murder attempt. He draws his other hand back in a fist, either threatening or preparing to punch her. She scrambles to claw at the hand around her neck, tries to pry his fat, filthy fingers away from her airflow as much as possible, but he's just too strong, and he has too much leverage over her. She can't break his grip, and she's starting to get lightheaded as he increases the pressure on her trachea. It's not exactly consistent because he keeps flexing his hand. He's either doing that because he's injured or because he gets off on torturing people, and she's not sure which one it is.

"Stupid bitch!" Ponytail snarls, getting into her face. His grip tightens even more, and she physically can't breathe anymore. He's clearly too into it, she thinks, and that's going to be his downfall. She tries to kick him between the legs, but she can barely move them. She can't raise her leg enough to connect, and he laughs in her face about it. His breath smells like unfiltered cigarettes, and she hopes he rots.

She's seeing spots, struggling to breathe, torn between conserving energy or fighting back with all she has. She wishes she'd practiced holding her breath longer. She'd be better at this, could even try to trick Ponytail. But her vision is narrowing to pinpoints and darkness. Everything is starting to fade away. She feels herself starting to faint and wonders if this asshole is actually going to punch her or if this is how it ends, with her gasping for air like a fish. Her kids... Chloe, Elliot, Ava...

There's a burst of noise, of action, a crunch. The pressure lets up just a fraction, enough for the shallowest of shallow breaths. And then she hears the gunshot. It's so close she hears it whiz past, then hit, and it's ringing in her ears. She doesn't know if she's dying or hallucinating, but she feels something warm and wet on her skin. His grip on her neck slackens further, and she gasps greedily for air. Then he stumbles away, and she strikes out, pushing him further. Her attacker crumples to the ground, lifeless, away from her and the car, and Morgan can't help but kick him even farther away. All she can do is frantically suck in air as she slides down side of the car. She ends up on her hands and knees, bracing on the asphalt, coughing and breathing. She feels like throwing up.

"Morgan?" Karadec asks, coming towards her. She can hear the deep concern and possibly fear in his voice, but all she can do is nod. She can't find her voice right now, though she knows he needs to hear it. Her voicebox hurts. Hell, she can't even think straight.

The world starts to come back in slowly. She smells the sea breeze, feels the wind in her hair, the sand on her skin. Karadec is shouting threats and probably curses at the others. He's telling them to put their fucking hands up, that they're under arrest. Surprisingly, none of them shoot, though at least two of them must be armed. But there's only one of him and so many of them. He only has one set of handcuffs. She hears baldy limping to the car first, followed by the uninjured getaway driver and the others. She dimly hears the cars speeding away, tires squealing on the pavement, and the sound of Karadec handcuffing whichever goon was closest or wasn't fast enough to make it to the cars. He pats him down and removes some weapons and makes some remarks about it. She also hears him fire a couple shots off as the cars drive off and reload his magazine. Maybe not quite in that order. He is quietly and furiously reciting Miranda rights, and she hears as he grabs the man, marching him around the car and all but shoving him into the backseat. He presses the button to lock the door, but it still sounds like it's happening far away. She feels a little like she's underwater, and it's all she can do to just breathe.

Morgan's still catching her breath, blinking back spots from her vision, when suddenly Adam is there at her side, holding onto her. His hand is on her back and firm, and it instantly makes her relax. Her ears are still ringing—tinnitus, she hopes it doesn't last forever—and his face swims before her eyes until she blinks, and she can see him clearly. He's a bit scraped up, his brow furrowed in what must be worry, and his eyes—his eyes say more than his mouth ever will. Care, empathy, fear, anger, determination, strength, protectiveness, certainty, safety. "Are you okay?" he asks or maybe has been asking.

She's definitely not okay as her wide, bloodshot eyes must be telegraphing, but she assumes he means to find out if the man did any lasting damage, if he hurt her somewhere he can't see, and he didn't do that. Then she glances down and sees the blood, but she knows it's not hers because she has no pain there. It's so much more than she expected. She even has blood on her hands. She tries not to think about it, though she does regret momentarily that such a cool outfit was ruined by these fail criminals. So she nods again, still out of breath, still hungrily gulping in air, unsure if it's recovering from the attempted strangulation or the beginnings of a panic attack at this point, and she grabs onto him. Karadec as always is there and solid, like a concrete foundation. He doesn't sway when she throws her weight on him, and he doesn't complain when she ends up in his arms.

Later on, once the adrenaline is out of her system, she'll realize she didn't quite throw herself into his arms like she thought, that Adam willingly pulled her into an embrace that bordered on too tight. She'd been too caught up clinging to him and his steadying presence to notice his reaction, pressing her tear-stricken face into his shirt.

She clutches at his sides, his shoulders, like he's all that's keeping her upright. Maybe he is; she feels weak in the knees. She feels his hands pushing back her hair, rubbing at her shoulders and down her back, trying to comfort her like a cat, but it barely takes the edge off. It doesn't register at the time that he rarely touches her and has never touched her like this, like she is precious to him. Her thoughts, for once, are scattered and nonsensical—partly tunnel-vision from fear, disbelief at what had just happened and how quickly it had all happened, and the bitter awareness that not only had she just almost died, but someone had actively tried to kill her for no reason at all!

All of the what-ifs are going through her head along with flashes of memory as she tries to relive it and process it. The bullets, getting jumped, striking out at whoever she could reach, worrying about whether Karadec was all right since he'd taken a few bad hits, then getting grabbed, the hands around her neck, cutting off her air supply, and then the shot and freedom. She could've actually died. She could've left Ava, Elliot, and Chloe motherless. What was she even doing out here? This was too much, this wasn't her job. It never should've happened. What was she thinking? She should leave this kind of thing to the real cops. She should've listened to Karadec when he'd suggested back-up or a CSI team. Why was she simultaneously so smart and so stupid? She could feel the hysteria bubbling up, the urge to laugh like a maniac or else she'd start sobbing knockdown drag-out tears.

Adam's saying something or is he humming? He's trying to get through to her, she thinks, but he isn't comforting her the way he would a victim with canned phrases and sympathetic but awkward gestures. His voice is close and hushed and wraps around her like the rest of him. No, this is too personal, she thinks, even though what he's saying isn't really registering. She isn't hearing the words, just the tone, gentle but a little frantic still. She thinks maybe he's trying to get her to calm down, and her breathing's fast, so she just. Closes. Her. Eyes.

This is either a mistake or the greatest idea she's ever had because, weirdly, not seeing her surroundings does calm her down. Her thoughts start to slow down and come in full sentences again, and she starts to take the deep breaths that Adam is urging her to take, mirroring his own breathing. She hears him encouraging her, perceives his hands stroking her back. He's telling her she's going to be okay, that everyone's on their way, that she doesn't have to worry, that they're gone, that he isn't going anywhere. But then she starts to notice things.

Like that Adam's voice is a little rough from yelling or maybe pain. And that he's telling her it's going to be all right, that she's safe now, that he won't let anyone hurt her again. And she can feel how close they are; his body's pressed right against hers. It's a wall of solid muscle. Her eyes had always known this about him, but it was another thing to feel the evidence, to feel how physically large he is as he envelops her. She's not used to feeling small and fragile, but she feels so tiny compared to him. He's warm bordering on hot, and she can feel his heartbeat pounding in his chest, still beating too quick, too hard. Her head fits a little too well under his chin; she feels his stubble slightly scraping her scalp. It's unfamiliar but not unpleasant. She feels the starchy blend of his shirt, the silkiness of his loosened tie, and, she realizes, the rough yet smooth texture of his neck. Has she ever noticed before what his skin feels like? She feels goosebumps and doesn't know if they're his or hers, but she's very cold.

She smells him—she's never realized she knew how Karadec smells, never really thought this was something she noticed unless he smelled unusual—but it's so much more concentrated up close like this. He smells like some kind of musky yet sporty cologne or aftershave, detergent, cold sweat, gunpowder, and blood. But he's still there, underneath that—a scent she can't quite name or explain. Her brain now clearly associates that smell with safety since all of her muscles have relaxed against him, and she could probably come up with a whole lecture about pheromones and sweat and traumatic situations, but right now this moment and his strength is enough. She needs this now.

Time passes. She doesn't know how much, just that she's near catatonic and exhausted and can't bring herself to pull away or do anything else but remain here. She doesn't know how long they stay there, but Adam keeps holding her until both their breathing and pulses return back to normal. He's talking, babbling really, saying God knows what, but, for once, Morgan can't pay attention. Eventually, though, he pulls back slightly, and Morgan finds herself opening her eyes to look at him.

He still has an arm around her waist, and he's gotten his phone out to call 911 or the office, Selena maybe, she assumed. He smiles at her—a real smile, but not flashing all his teeth. Morgan blinked, her eyes unaccustomed to the sudden brightness after closing her eyes for so long. Adam gives her a reassuring look, squeezing her hip, and gently guides her up against the squad car, like he's afraid she'll bolt or fall down. She understands later this is because her attacker did the same thing earlier, throwing her up against the car hard, and Adam doesn't want to risk triggering her. She's too tired to any of that, to do much beyond sag against the car. He must realize this because he doesn't move far, and his weight is still partly keeping her in place, more even than her own legs. In the moment, she can only blink against the sunlight that burns and hurts her eyes.

Adam's talking to someone, telling them what happened in a calm, controlled voice that's somehow still very tense, low with menace for their attackers. He once again explains their location, then does something on his phone and says the exact coordinates. He reassures them they're okay but asks for an ambulance anyways and a full crime scene investigation squad. His eyes briefly shutter, like he wishes he'd asked before. Or maybe he's being chastised. Morgan still isn't listening to the words themselves, just the tone of them and observing his body language.

She looks away, getting used to the light again, and glances over to the hood of the car, where she sees a gun. The sunlight reflects off of it. Morgan tenses up reflexively and feels Adam's hand pressing into her lower back, drawing her gaze back to him. She looks down, avoiding his concerned stare, and sees his badge and gun in its holster and is confused. The gun on the hood of the car is smaller and black, probably a .38 caliber, maybe a .22; it's not his service weapon, but it's also not one of the guns she'd seen the goons raise. She turns to look in the van and sees the blond in the backseat and understands how Karadec got his gun back, though that still doesn't explain the gun on the hood or how he shot Ponytail. She's sure it will make sense later once she has all the pieces, but for now she just frowns.

Morgan glances back up at him, and she can tell immediately from the stern set of his face that he's talking about something even more unpleasant than what had occurred earlier. His tone is clipped and too precise and on edge, and he's telling Selena he shot a man who was trying to kill Morgan and two other accomplices. The man is dead, which she knew the instant he fell away but hadn't really registered until she sees Karadec's lips forming the word. She has his blood on her pastel graphic tee and possibly other places, still drying, but the blood on her hands belongs to other men. It makes her feel cold in a way and slump against the car, and she feels Adam's fingers tighten on her back. She looks up into cold brown eyes that soften and warm when they meet hers, and she thinks that maybe Adam needs this too, and she isn't the only one traumatized.

He wraps up the call a few seconds later, hanging up a little too fast. He tells her they'll be there in 10-15 minutes, and she hears that because it's a cue or a warning for her to get her head back on straight. Like it's that easy. He puts his phone back in his pocket, ignoring the frequent buzzing of texts. She wonders idly how she's going to explain this to Ludo and the kids, if she has bruises, or if this is just something she won't tell them. If she doesn't need to stay overnight at the hospital, she doesn't have to tell them, right? She can just wear turtlenecks and hope to God they think she's found a new boyfriend rather than having some other reason for wearing and buying hideous out-of-season clothes that choke her in sunny California of all places.

She doesn't want to hear the lecture from Ludo or the warnings, the questions about her career and if she's doing the right thing when it's all she can afford, and it's the only thing she's ever truly been good at. She doesn't want to see the fear in her kids' eyes. She doesn't want to recount how close she came to losing it all. She doesn't want to deal with any of that. She just wants to breathe, go home, and hug her kids and possibly sleep for a day until she wakes up and this feels like a nightmare that happened to someone else. Not for the first time, she wonders how cops do this every day.

But maybe she can manage some of that. She thinks she can manage almost anything with Karadec around.

She knows what's coming next. She'll be interviewed by some cop or possibly one of their friends about what went on, then someone will insist she's seen by the paramedics. She'll be checked out in the ambulance first, then Karadec. They'll either find something and patch her up, or find nothing serious and give her vague advice with a recommendation to take some Advil. They'll try and get her to go to the hospital for treatment, but she absolutely knows exactly how much an ambulance costs and doesn't want to deal with an emergency visit, so that will be a no despite Karadec and Selena's protests. Selena and the others will want to check on her in their own way, and especially Karadec. He'll need to have some moment alone with Selena to explain everything in detail, and maybe he'll even have the presence of mind to walk the investigating officers through the crime scene. He probably remembers the license plate better than she does.

She'll learn whatever an Internal Affairs investigation entails, and hopefully someone will prevent one of those detectives from insisting on interviewing her on the spot while she's still traumatized. Adam will find time to call his union rep and set up some separate time to go talk to his investigator. She'll be told not to talk to Adam lest they get their stories straight (and she's definitely going to ignore that), even though he didn't do anything wrong and wouldn't be found guilty even if he did because, hello, despite decades of copaganda on TV, we've all seen the statistics for how rarely cops lose their jobs or even get charged for anything. It'll make for a stressful couple of weeks that will ultimately come to nothing. That's how it's going to go.

She only snaps out of it when Adam comes closer, gazing at her with something like an apology in his eyes. His mouth twitches, suggesting he's going to say something, and she just can't bear it right now, so she looks away, blinking hard. "Morgan," he says anyways, softly but also with something like resignation. Her heart squeezes in her chest. She's been dazed and touching her neck in disbelief ever since Adam set her against the car, but she doesn't realize she's been doing it until Adam gently tips her chin up, drawing back a little to look at her neck. She lets out a breath she wasn't aware she was holding. She notes the flicker of rage in his eyes, watches it turn to disgust when he looks past her and down to her assailant. There must be bruises, then, like a necklace of fingerprints around her throat. She looks away quickly, not wanting to see the blood or the man.

She ends up staring at his mouth, at the full, perfectly-shaped dark lips she's never truly appreciated. He has a nice mouth, even though his lips look dry. His lips are swollen and purplish now, which does not diminish their appeal, and he has a cut on the side from where they punched him. The blood seems to have clotted, at least, or maybe he's wiped his chin. It looks like he'd be a good kisser, and she briefly closes her eyes and lets herself imagine it. His mouth looks soft, but she thinks he'd kiss hard, that he'd throw himself into it fully like he does with everything else. He'd be all-consuming. She can practically taste the scrape of his beard against her cheeks, but she can actually feel his breath on her face. It won't happen; he'd never do it unless he were doing CPR on her or something work-related, but the thought makes something inside her flutter. Thinking about him kissing her is somehow less intimate and horrifying than the fact that he has killed a man for her.

Morgan opens her eyes. Adam is watching her warily, like he doesn't know what she's going to do next. "Thought I lost you there for a second," he says roughly, his voice thick with emotion. The raw concern for her is overwhelming. She's torn between the urge to kiss him or cry and ends up choked up again. Because he almost did. He seems to realize he said the wrong thing because he reaches out and touches her cheek, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. She takes a deep, shaky breath.

"Thank you," she murmurs, knowing it's not enough. Her voice comes out rusty from disuse and from the abuse, and Adam frowns a little. But he puts both arms around her loosely so she can get away if she wants to. She doesn't want to.

Thank you... what else could she say? It seems almost pathetic after what he's done for her. How can she ever adequately thank him for saving her life? She literally owes him her life. She can never say he owes her a favor ever again, not even as a joke. She wants to say something else, but her throat is still throbbing, and nothing else comes to mind. She blinks furiously and wants to hide her face in his shirt again, but they're running out of time.

He clears his throat and bends down a little so their eyes are level and their gazes lock. He's giving her the same intense look he did before in the aftermath, but everything's crystallized and settled now. "You don't need to thank me. I'd do it a thousand times if I had to," he insists, squeezing her hand. She can practically feel the rumble of his voice in her own chest. He means every word.

Morgan blinks. She doesn't know what she feels, but she has a visceral reaction. It feels a little like the bottom dropping out from under her feet. She doesn't know what that means for them. She doesn't know if she'd do the same, honestly. All she knows is that when someone was attacking him, she jumped on their back and started kicking ass without regard to her own safety because Karadec was her partner. That has to mean something. Maybe she'll get there eventually.

In this moment, all of this feels like a lifelong bond. Something stronger and different than what she shared with either Roman or Ludo. But maybe that's just the adrenaline talking.

She wants to make a joke about him being a very particular type of serial killer. That would be the typical Morgan thing to do, but she doesn't feel like herself right now. And, more importantly, she doesn't want to see the look in his eyes change, even if it makes him laugh. She doesn't want to cheapen what he's just said.

He killed a man to keep her safe without even hesitating, without even thinking about it. And he'd do it again. That's a lot.

His hands come up to her shoulders, and he's suddenly visibly checking her over from head to toe. "I'm so glad you're safe," he breathes, and then he's hugging her again. This, unlike what happened before, is a real hug rather than the desperate grasping and bracing of earlier. It's for him, she realizes. It's reassuring in a different way, soul-nurturing she might say if she were feeling poetic rather than small and pathetic. She gets up on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck. As she lurches forward, her nose presses against his neck, and she's hit by the force of her own gratitude.

She pulls back a fraction to properly look at him in a way she didn't before, and she'd almost swear he looks a little disappointed. She notes the cuts and bruises on his face, his hands, his knuckles, but it all seems pretty superficial. His clothing has not fared as well as the rest of him. She doesn't think she's ever seen him look quite so disheveled, but he doesn't even look a quarter as shook up as she feels. She's sure he hates it; Karadec loves nothing more than order and cleanliness. "Are you okay?" she croaks, feeling guilty she hadn't asked earlier.

Karadec cracks a smile despite his busted lip and nods. She's flooded with relief. "I'm in one piece. Thanks for the assist," he replies, only half-joking. Morgan tries to smile back, but it's hard. "You really messed those guys up." She snorts, then runs her hands down his lapels, trying fruitlessly to smooth his wrinkled blazer. It's probably ruined, but it's also likely evidence now, as are her own clothes. He sort of shivers. At another time, Morgan probably would've explored that further and messed with him, but she's gotten up to more mischief than she could handle already. She can't push Adam any further today; she's honestly afraid of where it would lead if she did.

She's not sure it would be somewhere good.

"I know I'm stealing your line here, but I'm really glad you're okay too," she tells his tie, only glancing up at the end because she feels strangely bashful. When she looks up, he's staring at her. Their eyes meet again. His eyes are like coffee, warming her from the inside-out. She doesn't want to look away. His lips turn up at the corners, but it's not quite a smile. She wishes he would smile more; he has a nice one, rendered even nicer by how rarely it appears. The rest of his features are dangerously soft, especially his eyes at the corners, and far closer than she realized.

For one long moment, they stare at each other without saying anything. For once, Morgan's mind is completely blank. She isn't consciously thinking, but she sort of expects that something might happen... Is he leaning in? Is she? Does she want something to happen?

Nothing happens in the end. Maybe she was imagining things. "You're shivering," he notices, taking a step back. His expression is slightly less intense, but she still needs to take a deep breath. This one has nothing to do with her bruised windpipe.

She hasn't really realized it up until now, but she is shaking, and her hands especially are trembling. She sees it when she looks down. "Yeah, I'm probably in some kind of shock," she says with a shrug, like it's happening to someone else. It sort of feels like it is. None of this feels real. Adam frowns and shrugs out of his jacket, then wraps it around her shoulders. She shouldn't need it since it's like 75 degrees out and sunny, and she's already wearing a furry jacket of her own, but he tugs it up higher by the lapels so it won't slide off her shoulders. She's hit in the face by a burst of his cologne from the neckline, spicier than she remembered. He rubs her shoulders lightly, trying to warm her with friction. The jacket's still warm from his body.

She slides her arms into the sleeves and looks down, entirely dwarfed by the dark fabric. She does up the buttons since she doesn't have Karadec's shoulders or bulk to hold it up. He runs a hand down her back, between her shoulder blades, and she leans into it. He doesn't drape himself around her like he did earlier. She secretly wishes he would; she'd probably stop shivering from the heat. She thinks he's finally going to—for a moment—when he leans in. He murmurs into her ear instead, "I should probably do some first-aid on my suspect. He's looking a bit pale." She shudders for a different reason and then registers what he said.

She looks over her shoulder, into the car, and sees that he's right. The blond is leaning heavily against the seat, sweat on his brow. He can't slump over due to the seatbelt. If his arms weren't cuffed behind his back, he'd probably be reaching for his injury. She can't tell if he's stopped bleeding, but the wound looks pretty nasty, and it's still wet. His breath is hot on her sensitive throat; it's all she can do to not tense back up. "You okay on your own for a minute?" he asks in a whisper that tickles her neck and ear. Her eyes briefly fall closed. He can't be doing this on purpose, surely. "I'll be right here." He motions to the other side of the car. She'll be able to see him through the windows if she needs anything.

Morgan swallows and winces at the pain. She's never needed to swallow less hard before. But she manages to nod. "I'll be fine," she rasps. He frowns and hesitates for a moment, but she shoos him with one hand, and he makes his way to the passenger's side door. He keeps the first-aid kit in the glovebox, and he takes it out, alternately keeping his eyes on her and the suspect. He closes the door gently, so as to not jostle her, then he squeezes her arm and walks to the other side of the car. He rolls up his sleeves on the way. She feels his absence more than she thought she would and hates herself for feeling so needy. This isn't like her.

She turns slightly and watches as Karadec talks quietly but tersely to the blond, explaining what he's going to do. The blond grunts out some kind of consent, not that he really has a choice. Karadec rolls up the other man's sleeve and maneuvers him as he tightly binds up the wound to the best of his ability. The blood that soaks through is dark and probably clotted, not bright red. Karadec informs the suspect that an ambulance is on their way and says he'll be the first to be seen, then he closes the door and walks around the other way to return the first-aid kit to its regular location.

Then he's at her side again with new blood on his hands. They match now, she thinks, staring at her own hands. At some point, she's wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to get warmer, but it doesn't hold a candle to when Karadec's shoulder brushes against hers and stays.

"I'm sorry," Karadec says a few minutes later, a sad look in his eyes. "I should never have put you in that position." She must make some small noise of protest because he looks away, his eyes hardening. "I'm responsible for your safety, Morgan. I should've called for back-up before we came here. You're a civilian, and you got hurt because of my actions. I didn't protect you." He sounds guilty, like he thinks he did something wrong, but what does he have to feel bad about when he saved her life? Or is it the taking of the life that he feels guilty about? Is he mad at her for that, or himself?

He couldn't have known, neither of them could've known that visiting their victim's trailer would result in them being jumped by a bunch of amateur criminals. Why was he taking this all on himself when it took two to tango? He wouldn't have been here at all if not for her not-so-crazy case theory. If he put her in that position (not that he did, that was her attempted murderer doing it), then she put him in that position too. She grabs his shoulder, pulling until he has to look at her. "Adam, you saved my life," she reminds him breathlessly, incredulously. She really can't say this enough.

She can see him bite the inside of his cheek, frustrated but at himself, for a change. His expression is still pained, and his voice is full of remorse. "I shouldn't have had to do that." She sees him glance at her neck and then quickly look away. "I put you at risk. You shouldn't have even been in that situation," he reiterates, flexing his bruised knuckles. Morgan wants to point out that he had tried pretty much everything he could to keep her safe, from physically blocking her from the henchmen to telling her to hide and demanding they stop harassing her, but she knows it won't matter. He'll still feel like he didn't do enough.

But she has to stop him from spiraling here when everything is fine. She squeezes his arm, and he looks over at her miserably. "It's not your fault. You did everything right-" Karadec scoffs because he's already sure the Internal Affairs report will say something different, but she doesn't think it's productive to get into all the what-ifs when they both made it out alive. Their attackers will be found and arrested within a few days since they got the license plate numbers and two of them have gunshot wounds. This is about as good an outcome as could reasonably be expected of a gang that thought they could jump a cop.

"Hey!" she says, getting into his face a little, but she's captured his attention. "Listen to me... Half the time I don't listen to you. I show a shocking disregard for my own safety. I get myself into all kinds of crazy situations on the daily. It's a wonder I haven't gotten myself killed already." While true, this is not helping given the strange look on Karadec's face, which seems to be a mixture of disbelief and horror. She sighs and rests her hand on his shoulder, leaning in further, and tries another tack. "Look, partners protect each other. They have each others' backs, right?"

He nods reluctantly. She thinks that if one good thing has come out of this, it's knowing that Karadec sees her as a partner. And she knows now what she'd do for that. It's terrifying to feel this way about someone who isn't blood or a lover, someone she wasn't even sure was a friend before today. She smiles back and pats his shoulder, then his back. He gives her that familiar exasperated look, like he's coming back into himself, and her smile widens. "You had mine when it counted, and I had yours. That's what matters."

She pauses, then licks her dry lips, and tries not to get choked up like she did earlier. Her throat aches dully. "Because of you, I can go home to my kids. Because of you, I'm still breathing. I..." Her already rough, sore voice breaks here, but at least she doesn't start crying. "I can't thank you enough, Adam," she finishes, meeting his dark gaze. She presses his shoulder. There's something fierce about the way he stares back at her. He's silent for a moment before nodding, then looking away, like this is also too much for him.

A minute or so later, his lips curve upwards at the corners. He perks up a little, all of him lighter, and she finds herself mirroring him and so relieved. "Yeah," Adam says, barely holding in a chuckle. He looks over at her, and she sees a dimple. "I'll never forget the sight of you jumping on that guy's back like a flamingo." Her mouth drops open in feigned offense (why do people always compare her to large birds?), but she has to admit he's probably right about how it looked. She'd felt kind of like a bird when she was flailing around trying to hang onto her assailant.

She lets go of his meaty, strong shoulder. "You're welcome," she says magnanimously, even throwing in a little bow. It gets Karadec to laugh, which only minutes ago would've seemed impossible. She grins, then leans in conspiratorially. "Is this when we develop a secret handshake, or do you want to become blood brothers or something?"

Karadec rolls his eyes, then pulls a face as he looks her over. "You're not bleeding, and that would be incredibly unhygienic," he points out. He still has blood on his face and hands, and he's generally covered in dirt and God only knows what else. It's weird he isn't freaking out about that and that he hasn't pulled out his hand sanitizer yet, but she supposes he's waiting for the EMTs and crime scene crew so he doesn't rinse off all the evidence.

"Wait. You guys all love tattoos." Judging by the way Karadec's face scrunches up, he is also not a fan of needles and views the entire tattoo industry as unhygienic, but she stands by what she said. She'd dated a cop or two briefly, just for the sex, and they were all so covered in tattoos it really wasn't that different from dating a biker, right down to the risk-taking behavior and unaddressed anger issues. "Do partners get matching tattoos?" she asks, looking him over.

His response is an incredulous look. "This is a work relationship, Morgan," he stresses, gesturing between the two of them. "We're not besties." He makes the craziest face she's ever seen and spits the final word with a mocking kind of Valley Girl accent that sounds a lot like Ava. She holds in laughter, and he just gets grumpier. "We're not going to get matching tattoos, then go to brunch and get margs, and go to Coachella later!" While they're not in the desert, she does glance pointedly around their location, which only riles him up further. He's pacing now.

"You're damn right, Karadec. We're too old for Coachella, and you're more of a happy hour after work kind of guy." She thinks she could persuade him to go get tacos and margaritas with a little effort. "I think you're just mad you can't think up a cute matching tattoo for us." She giggles and flicks her hair over her shoulder.

He groans loudly. His face is definitely red and tinging almost violet. She can't think of any cute tattoos either. She only now realizes how far away he is. It feels wrong, him being out of reach, so she moves closer to him. Something in her calms down and uncurls, and that concerns her. If he notices, he doesn't say anything, but his face is gradually returning to its usual color. She turns and looks up at him with big puppy eyes, meeting his wary gaze. "Does this mean you won't accept my friendship bracelet, Adam?" He looks away and sighs, which she takes as a no. Morgan smiles to herself.

"How about we try not to make a habit of getting into any more life and death situations for a while, huh?" he asks a few moments later, raising a brow and holding out a hand. There's a glint in his eye she doesn't quite recognize. She's not sure if it's playfulness. But, oh, he wants her to promise.

She lets out a shallow breath. She agrees with him, and it bothers her less than the last time. They're gradually agreeing on more and more things, and it's getting less annoying each time it happens. "Can't say I want to clean any more blood out of my best outfits," she says, frowning down at her clothes. He tenses up, and she assumes he's looking at spots she hasn't even noticed given the way his eyes scan her. "I mean, yeah, that would be nice. I'll try my best to not send either of us to a premature grave." She's not sure she should make promises she can't keep, but she can't exactly refuse something that would give him comfort.

He gives her a look that says she better. Then she takes his hand, and they shake on it. His handshake is firm but not too aggressive, not a painful squeeze like someone who's overcompensating. His hand is smooth (he definitely uses lotion), but a little rough. It goes on a little long, and when it does end, she's surprised to find that she doesn't want to let go.

Before she can examine that feeling (or any of the other strangeness she's been feeling towards Karadec today), they hear the sirens. They walk together to the back of the car to have a better view of the road to see when back-up finally gets here. The sirens are getting louder and louder as they come closer; they'd probably be able to see the cars already if not for the hills. They've fallen silent once again, both of them absorbing everything that has happened in the past fifteen minutes, trying to reconcile and process it, and, perhaps most importantly, trying to think of how to make a narrative of it.

Karadec turns to her with a half-smile. "We've come a long way, partner." She meets his eyes, wondering if she imagined him emphasizing the last word. He's definitely saying it on purpose this time, and she can tell from the look in his eye that he isn't going to deny it. The acknowledgment still makes her feel all warm and fuzzy nonetheless, but she doesn't feel like gloating.

"We sure have," she agrees, grinning back, thinking back to the days when he barely tolerated her presence. Then she links her arm with his, taking him off guard. To his credit, Karadec takes it in stride, unlike the last time he took her arm, when he held it stiffly and reluctantly, largely to remain upright. Progress, she thinks. Adam reaches over to pat her arm, and she finds herself clinging to that feeling long after he lets go.

- Loren ;*