DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, Fox does. I'm only taking them out for a test drive.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story contains some adult situations, so be forewarned.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
SPOILERS: Strap-on, Ryde or Die, Mighty Blue, Defense/Offense

After the Fall
By Sam

Part 25

'Cause it's only time before we all must bleed.
       - Ed Roland

Billie flashed her badge at the nearest officer as she came through the doors of the trauma center, her eyes scanning the area in search of a familiar face. She immediately spotted Captain Parish standing near a set of double doors to her left, speaking to a man dressed in an expensive looking suit. He caught her eye and gave a quick nod before resuming his conversation. She was about to approach him when she felt a hand touch her arm.

"Lieutenant Chambers."

She turned to see Lieutenant Rick Martell from Internal Affairs. The two had known each other for many years, having started out working together at Rampart when they were both still in uniform. He'd been something of a flirt back in those days, and every bit the overzealous rookie. But, he had good instincts and a strong ethic, and Billie had always liked him.

After Hill was promoted several months back, Rick's impressive record had easily managed to secure him the position of Chief Investigator. Unfortunately, his transfer put a slight strain on his relationships with his fellow officers, Billie included. People in his division were usually greeted with suspicion and animosity by their co- workers. It didn't matter who or what they were before, once they ended up in IA, they were seen as the enemy.

The last time Billie had even spoken to him was at Alexa's funeral. Despite the tension that existed between them, he'd been kind and supportive, and she hadn't forgotten that. But, the fact that he'd just addressed her so formally had not gone unnoticed.

She decided to dispense with the usual pleasantries. "What's the word on your boss?"

"Not sure yet." He glanced over at Parish, who made eye contact, briefly, giving Billie the distinct feeling that some silent exchange had just taken place. "Can we talk in private for a minute?" he asked, looking back at her.

"What about?" she questioned, her tone already bordering on argumentative.

"I'd rather do this somewhere else." Rick motioned toward an open door behind him. "How about in here?"

Billie shot him an irritated look. "Let's make this quick," she responded, brushing by him and walking into the empty office. When she turned around to face him, Rick stepped inside and closed the door.

"Look, Billie-"

"Oh, so now it's Billie, all of a sudden," she quickly cut him off, already fully aware of what it was he wanted to discuss with her. "Just get to the point."

The other detective stared at the floor for a moment, looking uncomfortable, before resettling his gaze on her. "Where were you tonight?"

The brunette's eyes widened, slightly. She wasn't surprised by the question, but it still smarted that he would even ask it. "You want an alibi from me, Rick? Is that it?"

"I need to know where you were...that's all." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned back against the door. "It's just SOP."

The two colleagues stared at each other, the weight and severity of the accusation hanging between them. Billie drew a slow, deep breath before finally responding, "Go fuck yourself." She stepped up to him and put a hand on the doorknob, her hardening gaze clearly warning him to step aside.

"Jesus, Chambers, you're just as arrogant as ever," he remarked with a hint of frustration. "Why the hell are you so intent on digging your own grave?"

"Get out of my way," she advised him.

Martell let out a heavy sigh as he straightened up and moved back to give her some room. "If you had nothing to do with it, you should have nothing to hide."

"I don't," she said simply.

"Then, why not answer my question?"

"I already told your boss this once before," she informed him. "And now, I'm telling you. I file my reports with Parish. You want answers, talk to him." She opened the door and walked back out toward the main entrance. Martell followed her, casting a weary eye at Parish before moving off to speak with someone else.

Bob noticed Billie storm out of the office, studying her as she made her way through the throng of reporters that were collecting near the check-in desk. When an older, well-known newscaster purposefully got in her way, she practically shoved her badge in his face before using some off-color language to motivate him into abandoning his quest for an interview.

The captain sighed, inwardly, still unsure as to what motivated him to spend so much time and energy on her over the years. He genuinely cared about her, although her hotheaded nature often made that difficult. Still, there was no denying that he had thrown in with Billie Chambers for the long haul, and he intended to stick by her.

At her best, she was a steadfast, stalwart cop. During her days working undercover, she'd conducted some of the best investigations he'd ever seen. Her impressive list of convictions alone put her career on the fast track early on, and she remained one of the youngest officers in the LAPD to ever reach the rank of Lieutenant before her thirtieth birthday.

But there was always something about her that was both unpredictable and destructive, and he supposed it was those very qualities that enabled her to take some incredibly dangerous risks. She could also be amazingly calm in the most intense situations, which in most cases would be a valuable asset. But, where Billie was concerned, Parish often wondered if she didn't see herself as indestructible. He certainly couldn't ever remember seeing another officer with a cooler head, even when bullets were flying right over it. And it was that do or die bravado she possessed that made her an amazingly proficient detective. Unfortunately, he'd always been afraid it would also end up putting her in an early grave.

When they first met, he saw her as little more than a young, eager rookie, although somewhere in the back of his mind, he sensed there was something special about her. His only intention was to use her for a brief stint as a prostitute, and even though there were always risks involved in any operation, he didn't really think she could get into too much trouble...so long as she followed his instructions.

Which, of course, she didn't.

When the hulking, six foot-plus, psycho pimp she was after was too busy beating on a young girl to even notice she was there, Billie should have called for backup, despite needing to leave the scene to do so. She didn't. When her cover was blown, she was unarmed and barely dressed. She should have turned and run. She didn't. And even when the victim chose to save her own skin by pointing the finger at Billie, the young cop should have saved herself, instead of standing her ground to protect the person that put her life on the line. She didn't.

After the dust settled, Parish stood next to Billie in the emergency room as they set her broken arm, giving her just about the sternest dressing down he'd ever delivered. She sat quietly, only making the occasional expression of discomfort as the doctor patched her up, and her captain tore into her. When they both finished, she quietly laid back on the gurney and went to sleep.

Nerves of steel. With a head to match.

At the time, he thought her reckless behavior might have been some misguided attempt to impress everyone. But, after getting to know her better, he came to understand that her actions were not motivated by career ambitions or professional gain. She simply thrived on getting the job done. And she threw every bit of herself into that single pursuit, no matter the risk. He thought her determination was admirable, though he tried to convince himself it would temper with time. She certainly wasn't the first inexperienced cop to push too hard.

But, he soon realized that just the opposite was true. As she became more immersed in undercover work, her tenacity steadily grew. The more complex and lengthy the assignment, the more she seemed at ease. She enjoyed the chase. It gave her an opportunity to pit her skills against a wide range of people, many of whom had previously escaped prosecution on numerous occasions.

Although, sometimes it seemed as though she measured her own worth by the size of the criminals she pursued. The bigger they were, the more desperately she wanted them.

And that was when the trouble really began.

"Thanks for the help there, Bob."

Parish was drawn out of his own thoughts by a familiar voice and looked to see Billie's angry face staring back at him. She stood there, arms folded across her chest, fully prepared to give him her best `I don't give a shit if you're my boss or not, because I'm pissed off' attitude, which he had to admit, he was absolutely not in the mood for at the moment.

"Let's get away from here," he responded, placing a large hand on her shoulder to guide her along. She resisted the temptation to shrug it off, despite being angry with him for not warning her about Rick.

They walked over to a small waiting area near the elevators. When he was certain the crowd was out of earshot, Parish turned to face her. "Before you decide to bust my chops, let me remind you that Martell could have had you report to his office, along with your advocate, and made the whole thing very official." He tucked his hands into his pockets and lowered his voice for effect. "Getting called in stays with you, Billie. It's a stigma you don't need. We both know that. He was doing you a favor."

"I don't need any favors," she replied somewhat petulantly.

He was about to point out how untrue that statement really was, given the current circumstances, but he knew she was well aware of her reputation with Internal Affairs. As she stared back at him, he could already see her switching gears.

"Where are Van and Deaq?" she asked.

"They're tucked away in a room down the hall," he informed her. "I didn't want their mugs showing up on the evening news."

Billie shot a quick glance across the room. The media was beginning to fill the lobby as a handful of uniformed officers battled to keep them away from the action. "What the hell happened?"

"Someone decided to use him for target practice. They popped him five times as he was getting out of his car at the downtown courthouse."

"And he's still alive?" she asked, disbelievingly.

"He was wearing a vest."

The lieutenant raised her eyebrows. "You're kidding me."

"Only one bullet made it through," Parish explained as he removed a hand from his pocket and pointed to his waist. "Right between his belt and his armor. He lost a lot of blood on his way in, but they seem pretty confident he'll pull through."

Billie shook her head, slowly, unable to hold back the tiny smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. It appeared as though Hill's paranoia had finally paid off. In spades. "Where is he now?"

"Being prepped for surgery," Parish answered. "They wanted to get him stable, pump him up with a few pints before they go in to remove the bullet."

"Any suspects?" She had one or two of her own, of course, but she wasn't ready to show her cards yet, not when most of what she had was only pure speculation.

"It's a long list," Parish sighed. "They're looking in their own house, but they don't really think this was done by another cop."

Billie frowned. "Why is that?"

"Something he said to your boys at the scene before he passed out," Parish explained, as he gazed at her, solemnly. "He mentioned McKenzie's killer."

The young lieutenant froze. "He knows who it is?"

Parish shook his head, slowly. "We're not sure, but it sounds like he knows something."

"Jesus, Bob," Billie breathed. "If he really does."

"They might try again," he finished for her. "Believe me, he'll have so much protection he won't be able to have a dirty thought without me knowing about it."

"I think he's going to need it." Any doubts Billie may have had about Felicia's involvement were instantly erased, thanks to Parish, but she was still finding it difficult to grasp the reasoning behind all this.

For a brief second, she'd thought perhaps it had been because of her. If Felicia had somehow known about the meeting tomorrow, maybe she'd sent David after Hill as some kind of twisted way of protecting her. Put in the simplest terms, by removing him, her career would be safe. at least temporarily. And as extreme as that all sounded, even to her, it would probably seem perfectly acceptable to Felicia.

But, what did Hill know about Cathy McKenzie's murder?

"There are a lot of unanswered questions here," Parish commented, as if reading her thoughts. "Like how your guys just happened to be at the scene, for starters."

"Have you talked to them yet?" she asked.

"Only for a minute," he answered. "I've been too busy with security and the press."

"Which room are they in?"

Parish pointed toward a door just beyond the bank of elevators. "There."

"Can you give me a couple of minutes?" She knew he had people to answer to, as well, but Van and Deaq were in the middle of this because of her. And she was not about to let their asses swing in the breeze simply because they were in the wrong place at the right time.

"I'll go find Martell," he offered. "That should give you enough time to help them get their story straight."

"Thanks, Bob," she replied, gratefully.

He studied her for a moment before adding, "If they hadn't been there, Hill would probably be dead. Right now that's their only saving grace."

"I know."

As Parish turned to leave, he stopped and looked at her, curiously. With everything going on he'd only just taken note of her appearance. "You have a date tonight?"

"I was working," was all she would say.

He wanted to ask for more details, but decided against it. Sometimes, the less he knew about Billie's numerous activities, the better he slept at night. Without another word, he walked away, quickly disappearing into the sea of activity.

Billie took a deep breath and headed toward the closed door.

"Have you phoned the New York galleries yet?"

Don turned around to see his boss coming toward him. Her expression was calm, but he knew from the look in her eyes that she was furious. "Umm...not yet. I thought you might want to speak with them yourself."

"Yes, I suppose that's best." Felicia looked over the damage, making a mental note as to the dollar value involved. "How many paintings did we lose?"

"I've accounted for ten, so far." Don tossed aside a charred crate cover and peered down into the blackened interior. "Make that twelve."

"And what about the fire department?" she questioned.

"They took a look around, but since we were able to contain it, they aren't concerned about any structural damage. Our insurance rep is on his way over. He'll start the claims process, and probably take a few pictures."

Felicia stared at the fork truck standing against the wall. It was about the only thing in a ten-foot diameter that wasn't completely burned up in the fire. She found that annoyingly ironic considering the machine's faulty wiring appeared to have been the cause.

"I already called the company we bought it from," Don offered as he noticed her studying the piece of equipment. "The fire chief said he was almost positive it was the point of origin, but an investigator will be over to get a better look."

"Fine," the blonde replied curtly. "I'll be in my office." She spun on her heel and stalked across the platform, leaving her foreman to handle the situation.

Felicia slammed the door behind her, attempting to block out the commotion on the other side, and turned to rest her forehead against the lacquered surface. The fire had been a small one, and she knew that if it had happened at a later hour, the entire building could have gone up in flames. The damage was considerable in terms of dollars, thanks to the unfortunate misplacement of some newly arrived paintings. But, overall, it could have been much worse.

And she didn't give a damn.

The evening was ruined. Her carefully orchestrated plans derailed because of a stupid mechanical malfunction. All she'd needed was a little more time, and Billie would have been hers.

She had the young lieutenant right where she wanted her: So desperate to know the truth, and so willing to do anything in order to get it.

An involuntary shudder ran through her as she recalled the feel of that young, nubile form beneath her. The mystery she'd pursued with such abandon, finally ready to be fully explored. She had been so close.

A hand drifted down to the apex of her slim thighs, long tapered fingers rubbing gently against the soft fabric of her pants. She closed her eyes, her tall, thin body pressing firmer against the door as her hand continued its smooth, stroking motions.

Eyes clear and cool as ice-water...dark hair so soft and silky...lips full, sensual and warm.

Felicia's breathing became slightly labored as she used her free hand to grip the doorknob, her knuckles turning white with the increasing pressure.

That incredibly erotic scent...a mixture of wildflowers and raw sex.

The blonde remained standing, the steady pace of her hand increasing with each passing second. Sounds continued wafting through the door, but soon the muffled voices and clattering tools began to subside as her mind continued to focus inward.

The subtle flavor of wine...the warm, unique taste of a beautiful young woman.

A quiet moan escaped Felicia's lips as she kept her body teetering on the edge, determined to hold on until the fantasy was complete.

The gentle flicker of candlelight...a coil of thick, white rope...a gleaming, razor sharp blade, tracing the exquisite contours of lightly tanned skin.

"Oh...Billie." The tall, slender figure arched her back and cried out, softly, to the empty room. Her posture remained rigid as she pushed against her own hand, dark, disturbing thoughts filling her mind and driving her body.

As the minutes ticked by, she began to relax, breath slowing, heated cheeks cooling to a pinkish hue. Her body twitched, slightly, and she finally released her hold on the door.

As an after thought, her brown eyes traveled to a small bookcase directly across from her. She walked over and pulled out an old, well- worn art book, lifting the cover to reveal a small digital camera mounted inside the binding. After making a small adjustment, she removed it from its mooring and pulled out the memory card, being mindful to insert a new one from her desk drawer before replacing the camera in its inconspicuous hiding spot.

She dropped, tiredly, into her chair and leaned back, studying the small card as she held it between her fingers. Her performance had been a silent one, but better to remove the chance of anyone becoming privy to her somewhat lurid behavior.

Her phone suddenly rang, the soft sound nearly deafening to her startled ears. She snatched it up in irritation. "What?"

"You didn't answer your cell."

Felicia recognized the voice immediately. "I told you never to call me at this number," she hissed.

"I needed to talk to you," Warren told her. "I'm at a pay phone."

The blonde sighed, wearily. "Just tell me it's done."

"Well, yes, but Ilsa-"

"Don't call me that!" Felicia shouted into the phone, her face twisting into an angry sneer as she shot up from the desk. "Don't ever call me that again! Do you understand?" There was nothing but silence on the other end of the line, and for a moment, she almost thought he'd hung up. But, of course, he didn't. He never did.

"I'm sorry." Warren's whisper was barely audible.

She glared at the phone still clutched tightly in her hand, wishing he were standing right in front of her, instead of being just a disembodied voice she couldn't see or touch.

And she wanted to see him.

Touch him.

Hurt him.

"I just wanted to let you know that there were some...complications," he explained.

Complications. She didn't like that word. Unfortunately, she didn't dare ask him to elaborate. Not over an open line. "Then, you'd better tend to them," she finally answered, her voice sounding much calmer than she felt. After skipping a beat, she added, "And don't disappoint me."

"I won't," Warren assured her. "I'll take care of it...I promise."

Felicia dropped the phone back into its cradle, one finger idly tracing the smooth outside edge while she fought to regain control of herself. The shake was barely perceptible, at first, as she brought her other hand down to grip the side of the base. With a sudden burst of rage, she yanked the cord, viciously, and launched the unit across the length of her office. It hit the wall and dropped to the floor in a broken heap.

She stood there staring at the pile of debris, one hand clutched to her chest, the other resting on the desktop as she took in small gasps of air. A tiny whimper escaped her lips, the sound reminiscent of a frightened child, and her dark eyes took on an almost feverish glint as she narrowed them to mere slits.

Her mouth began to move, soundless words forming on her lips as she repeated the same phrase over and over again, the volume steadily increasing with each passing second.

"De er min."

Deaq picked his head up as Billie walked in, noticing how his partner always seemed to stand a little taller and straighter whenever she came into a room. He knew Van had sported a little crush on the attractive lieutenant for some time. He also knew that nothing would ever come of it. She was their boss, and in their line of work, business and pleasure just didn't mix, despite Van's best attempts to prove that theory wrong. And besides the fact that they were like oil and water together.

...there was also the small matter of the woman she was currently involved with.

"Well, well," Billie folded her arms across her chest. "You guys have been busy." She cocked her head to one side as she asked, "Care to fill me in?"

"Okay, sir," Van piped up immediately. "Before you go all `Captain Dobey' on us, I'd like to point out that we did just save somebody's life." He glanced at Deaq, who merely raised his eyebrows. "Of course, considering who we saved, maybe that's not scoring us any brownie points."

"Why were you following him?" the brunette asked, glancing between them until her eyes finally rested on Deaq.

"We went to pay him a visit, but when we got there he was on his way out," the detective answered. "So, we decided to follow him. We were twenty...maybe thirty seconds behind coming into the lot...that's all it took."

"We saw Hill drop," Van continued on with the story. "But, by the time we got to him, the shooter was gone."

"Were there any witnesses?"

Deaq shook his head. "A guy from the D.A.'s office was heading to his car when he heard the shots, but he was too far away to see anything. Other than that, there was no one else around."

Billie's eyes narrowed. "Who was the guy?"

"His name's Colby," Van answered. "We checked him out."

"I know who he is," she responded. "So, what exactly did Hill say to you?"

"He mumbled something about McKenzie's killer," Deaq told her. "But, all those slugs knocked the wind out of him, and then he ended up passing out." He moved his head back and forth, slowly, as he added, "All I can say is it's a good thing they didn't go for the head shot."

Van gave a derisive snort before replying, "It's probably harder than his vest."

"Why were you going to see Hill in the first place?" Billie pressed.

Van looked over at his partner before answering, "We wanted to know what was going down tomorrow." He quickly shot Billie an irritated look. "And since no one seems interested in keeping us on the up, we thought we'd just go straight to the horse's ass."

The lieutenant pinched her nose with a thumb and forefinger before placing her hands on her hips. "I told you what you needed to know."

"Like hell you did, Billie," Deaq retorted, mirroring the other man's expression. "You're keeping things...things we should be in on."

Billie raised an arm and pointed her finger at him. "In case you've forgotten, I happen to be the one in charge, Deaq," she replied angrily. "And I am sick and tired of the two of you always questioning my decisions." She immediately held her palm up to Van as he opened his mouth to respond. "This is my problem, okay? My problem, my call. You get that?"

"Why can't you just be straight up with us, Billie?" Deaq held his hands out in a pleading gesture. "I mean, if bad things are comin' down on you, they're comin' down on us."

"Okay," the brunette started, clearly frustrated with the entire conversation. "You know what? The only thing you two have to worry about right now is the bust. Period. All this other business is just a lot of bullshit. Do your job and I'll do mine." She turned and yanked the door open, almost walking into Parish and Martell. Billie stepped aside and gestured to the two men to enter. With a quick glance at her watch, she pinned the latter with an impatient look. "Ten minutes, and they're out. We have a play going down tonight." The lieutenant walked out, slamming the door behind her.

"I guess we better make this quick, then," Martell noted.

Part 26

I can go where no one else can go
I know what no one else knows
       - Dave Pirner

For anyone who didn't know the purpose of The Candy Store, they might think it some kind of museum; a room filled with the remnants of some long forgotten society whose sole purpose was the pursuit of decadence and excess.

But, for the young woman seated on the floor near the center of this vast monument to greed, it was little more than a tool shed, a pile of nuts and bolts she put together to aid her in bringing down the very type of people who continually fortified it.

Billie sat with her back against a chair, her jacket tossed, casually, over the arm as she threw a tennis ball at the outside wall of her office. It bounced back to her and she snatched it in mid-air, pausing to rotate it once in her hand before launching it again.

Her eyes remained fixed on the small, green object as she hurled it in a high arc, watching it fly briefly before coming into contact with the clear divider and returning to her in a single bounce. She cocked an ear, slightly, hearing the sounds of approaching footsteps, but even as two pairs of legs entered her peripheral vision, she never took her eyes off the ball.

Her two operatives stood a few feet away, waiting for their boss to give them her attention. Van dug his elbow into Deaq's side as he gestured toward her. "See? What'd I tell ya? She identifies with Steve McQueen."

Deaq's only response to his partner's comment was to shake his head and walk away from him. "Yo, Billie."

"Hey, guys," she responded as she kept up her monotonous exercise.

Van approached her, his eyes following the ball as it traveled the length of its appointed trajectory. "So, what's the word?"

"We bagged `em," she replied, a small note of satisfaction in her voice. "It looks like the trail leads all the way back to a port in Guatemala. According to my contact at the DEA, they've been moving everything through to Mexico with a fleet of go-fasts. Since Ellis and his group were handling the trucking over the border, we've just managed to plug up their flow. She paused a few beats before adding, "You guys did good work."

Deaq dropped to the floor beside her, leaning back on his hands as he watched her cock her arm back for another throw. "How's Hill doin'?"

"He made it through surgery," she answered, launching the ball again. "They got the bullet out, but he's still unconscious." As she reached up for it, another hand suddenly snatched it out of the air in front of her. She turned and gave Deaq an annoyed look. "Get your own ball." She started to grab it from him, but instead, he tossed it to his partner, who caught it and immediately started to bounce it on the floor.

Deaq got to his feet and held a hand out to Billie. "Ain't we supposed to be havin' a meeting?" The brunette released a heavy sigh and allowed him to pull her to her feet. She picked up her jacket as she turned and walked to her office.

"Come on," she called back to them.

The three cops seated themselves in their usual places, Billie behind her desk and the two men settling in across from her. There was an uncomfortable tension in the air as they all sat, quietly, each waiting for the other side to begin.

The lieutenant could see that the responsibility for getting underway was resting, squarely, on her shoulders. She sat forward, clasping her fingers together and placing her hands on the desk. The conversation they were about to have would not be a pleasant one.

"My meeting was cancelled," she started in a matter-of-fact tone. "For obvious reasons." Van and Deaq remained silent, knowing there was more to say. After a brief hesitation, she continued. "But, I omitted one small detail. The meeting was actually with the DCP." The two men exchanged surprised glances.

"That wasn't exactly a small detail, Billie," Van remarked irritably.

"I'm with slick on this one," Deaq agreed. "Why the hell didn't you tell us?"

"And don't say it was `need to know'," Van quickly added.

Billie resisted the urge to get up and leave, not liking the feeling that she was somehow accountable to anyone. Deaq and Van worked for her, and although her professional troubles would most assuredly end up affecting them, she still didn't feel any real sense of obligation to disclose the details.

But, there was a part of her that knew their attitude of righteous indignation was somewhat justified. The Candy Store was certainly a unique and intimate operation, and the two men who now shared this inimitable space with her had come to understand the most basic tenet of its foundation: Without Billie Chambers, there was no Candy Store.

"Look, guys," she responded in a weary tone. "It's no secret that Hill has been gunning for me for months. He's obsessed with shutting this place down. And with everything that's been going on lately, he's more convinced than ever that our operation is out of control."

Deaq met her steady gaze. "You think he's got something solid?"

"I don't know."

Van narrowed his eyes, slightly, giving his boss a suspicious look. "Does this have something to do with Sara?" Even Deaq looked a bit surprised at his partner's candidness.

The brunette's jaw worked as she tried to formulate an answer to his question without biting his head off. "Again, I don't know."

Deaq saw his partner gearing up to say something else, undoubtedly intending to irk their boss even further, so he quickly intervened. "Look, Billie, we both get that something big is goin' on between the two of you, alright? But, we got some concerns of our own."

"Such as?" Billie asked, her tone sounding a bit on edge.

"Such as, why the hell you'd risk exposing this entire operation just for a little piece of ass!" Van's voice boomed as he shot up from his seat and slammed his hands down on the edge of Billie's desk. Deaq put a hand across his eyes and slumped back into his chair. He knew this was coming, he was just hoping to be miles away when it finally happened.

Billie immediately stood up, a furious look in her eyes as she jabbed a finger in the young officer's face. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"I think I'm the guy that's gonna end up writing parking tickets because you couldn't think with your head instead of your pussy!" Van hollered right back.

"Woah!" That comment was enough to galvanize Deaq into action as he jumped up and placed a restraining hand on his partner's shoulder. "You'd better back it up there, my man."

"You hypocritical son of a bitch," the lieutenant breathed. "You stick it into every goddamn hole you can find, and you've got the fucking nerve to call me out?"

"Oh, yeah?" Van continued his tirade, completely ignoring Deaq's attempts to reel him in. "Well, at least when I'm fucking someone, I'm not fucking you at the same time!"

"That's enough!" Deaq bellowed.

Billie's face was red with rage. "You're absolutely right," she responded, her voice deceptively calm. "It is enough." She glared at Van with open hostility. "The next time you mouth off to me like that, you can bet your ass you'll be trading in your alias and your posh little bachelor pad for a skirt and a fucking scooter." She tore her jacket off the back of the chair and started to leave.

Deaq caught her arm as she passed him. "Billie, wait. Come on, now, don't leave. Not like this."

She yanked her arm free and pinned him with a sharp look. "You, of all people, should know the way things are, Deaq." With that, she turned and stormed from the room. The young detective watched her leave, those final parting words causing a painful ripple to course through him.

He did know the way things are...or were, at least, for him. How things just happened, whether you wanted them to or not. How two people, who might never have crossed paths under normal circumstances, suddenly found themselves holding on to each other, so tight that it seemed as though they would never let go.

But, he and Alexa didn't get the chance to find out how long they could hold on, or how far they would go together. She was taken from him, ripped away in a single, heinous, act of violence. And because of that, he would never know what might have been.

"You were way over the line."

Van dropped down, heavily, into his chair and laid his head back to stare at the ceiling, all the anger he'd been expressing now having seemingly fled from his body. "I know."

Deaq turned to look at him, resisting the urge to smack him on the back of the head. Hard. "What the hell got into you?"

"Everything I said was true, Deaq."

"Even so," he replied. "We've both been there."

"This is different."

"Why?"

"It just is," was all Van would say.

"Man, you sound like a goddamn five year old, you know that?" Deaq shook his head and started to walk out, pausing at the door as a thought suddenly occurred to him. He leaned against the doorjamb, his arm stretched against the opening as he looked back at his partner in understanding. "You're jealous."

"I am not," Van replied adamantly.

"Are too."

"Now who sounds like a five year old?" The young cop got to his feet and turned to face his partner.

"Hey man, it's me, okay?" Deaq prompted. "I know you got a little thing going on for the boss lady."

Van's eyes widened in astonishment. "What?"

The detective gave him a sympathetic look. "It's kinda obvious."

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about." Van walked to the door, waiting for the other man to remove the arm that was blocking his exit.

"We gotta set this right, V."

"Would you move your arm, please?"

Deaq did as he asked, allowing his partner to walk by him. Van followed the same path Billie had taken only moments ago, quickly disappearing from view. The loud slam that echoed through the warehouse seconds later confirmed that he was now completely alone. The young man turned his dark gaze skyward and sighed.

"How the hell did I end up with these two, `Dre?"