Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prologue: My Intended 

I’m startled awake by my own alarm clock, the ringing bouncing off the walls of my room. My hand searches to turn it off, though I’m being held back. “Can you turn that off?” He mutters.

“Would love to, but I’m kind of stuck.”

His arms unwrap from me, and I finally shut it off. I’m sitting up, rubbing my eyes. He sits up himself, “Mornin’,” he smiles at me.

A small smile forms on my face, “Morning.”

I get out of bed, the tiredness biting at me. He follows me out to the kitchen, and I begin to start the coffee pot. No idea why I’m so tired, I went to bed at a reasonable time last night. Sometimes, I think I’m more tired when he and I share a bed together. Something that if my dad ever came over, I would never hear the end of it.

Setting his own coffee in front of him, I sit down. “You forgot to remind me to bring an extra change of clothes,” he’s stirring his drink, “now I have to leave a little earlier to stop by my house before work.”

“I would’ve reminded you if I knew you were sleeping here tonight. It was last minute, sweetheart.”

He chuckles, “Well, if we moved in together, this wouldn’t matter.”

“You know we can’t do that.”

“Why not? I think it’d be pretty normal, considering that ring on your finger.”

The emerald smack dab in the middle of my white diamond engagement ring stares up at me, “It’s an engagement ring, not a wedding ring, love.”

“So, are we spending our honeymoon moving into our house?”

“No,” I take a sip, “We’ll do that closer to the wedding, just enough that my dad won’t say anything. Our honeymoon will just be us; we go straight to the airport the morning after the reception. Right to Niagara Falls.”

His hand reaches out for mine of the table, and I place my hand in his. With a light squeeze, “Alright, alright,” my phone rings.

Pulling my hand away, I grab my phone, “Hello?”

“Sorry to bother you, Ms. Clark, we were just wondering if your beau was with you.”

“Yes, he is. Is everything okay?”

“Yes and no, yes that there’s nothing wrong with either of you, no that he needs to help with a crime scene. May I speak to him?”

“Of course,” I hold the phone to him.

His ear rests against the phone, “That doesn’t sound good. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Yes, sir.”

My eyes glance to him, “Running out so early?”

Finishing off his coffee, “Unfortunately, that scene sounds like a circus. I’ll spare you the details,” he grabs his shoes. Since I didn’t know he’d be spending the night, he had to sleep in his dress shirt and pants. He came over right after work, still dressed from work.

My hands hold out his jacket and hat, “Thank you, it’s too early in the morning for that kind of conversation.”

“Agreed,” he takes his clothing, “Are we still going to dinner tonight?”

“Of course.”

“See you tonight, Ence,” he gives me a quick kiss. He is the only person that can call me that, if anyone else does, I correct them. If it happens again, ignore them outright.

“I love you,” our eyes meet, still sends butterflies through me.

“I love you too,” he shuts the door behind him.

My coffee still in my hand, I stare at the door. No matter how many times I see him, or hear him, it still feels like the day I met him. Only ten months until our wedding, I’m completely sure that he is my soulmate. 

Chapter Text

“Do you think I should change into one of my professional outfits?” I ask, looking down at my dress. We met for brunch; I didn’t know that I’d be talking to James today. I’m wearing one of my favorite dresses, though. My dark blue tie neck flutter sleeve flare dress.

“You’re only talking to James,” Dad reassures me, finishing off his drink.

“I know, but it’s still going down to the station.”

“Valencia,” he pauses, “no one will say anything about you being a dress. They’ll probably say more when you’re in one of the ‘feminine’ suit outfits.”

“Point taken,” I stand, “I’ll call you later to let you know how everything goes.”

 With a simple nod, “Val,” he hesitates.

“Yes?”

We stare at each other for a moment, “You do realize there’s a chance of you running into him?”

My eyes shoot to the ground, the simple mention towards that makes my stomach drop. I left a year ago, but I haven’t lost an ounce of love for him. Regrettably. I shake my head, “Yes, I know.”

“What are you going to do if you do run into him?”

“I don’t know. It’s not something I’ve thought about. I’ll have to face the music eventually.”

He sighs heavily, “Let me know if it happens.”

“Of course, dad. I’ll let you know how it goes when I get home.”

---

The taxi I called pulls up in front of the station, I hand him the money I pulled out from my purse. The moment I walk in, I can feel eyes on me. There’s no one behind the desk, and I lean forward to see if they’re even in the area. “May I help you, ma’am? I’m Detective Bekowsky.”

I turn to look at the man, this smile plastered over his face. “Valencia Clark. I’m here to see Captain James Donnelly.”

“I’ll go grab him for you,” he walks away. He goes down a flight of stairs, heading towards the room Donnelly is in. He knocks slightly, “Captain?”

“What is it, Bekowsky? It better be important.” Donnelly crosses his arms, seemingly upset about something.

“There’s a Valencia Clark here for you.”

“That is really important,” he stands from his chair, “We’ll have to finish this conversation later.” Donnelly walks back up with Bekowsky. When he sees her, “Ah, young Valencia,” he gives a grin.

“How’re you, James?” I ask, giving him a hug.

“Same old, same old. Let’s go talk in my office.” The two of us walk towards his office, near the back of the first floor. Shutting the door, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I? You know I can protect myself, probably better than most of the people in this building. My dad didn’t raise a delicate flower, you know?”

“I know,” he gestures for me to sit down, “I know that. No one else does. You’re going to get a lot of unwanted attention.”

“Which I don’t give a shit about.”

He chuckles, “You’re definitely your dad’s daughter. I’m trying to prep you for what you’re going to deal with. Might be a lot harder, given I have to partner you up with Rusty.”

“And what is he like?”

“He’s not one to be shy about laying his hand on a woman. I don’t know if he’d hit you, given that you’ll be a Detective yourself.”

“If he does, he’ll end up in the hospital,” I roll my eyes.

“Sounds like you’re not changing your mind,” he leans back, “you’ll start in tomorrow, okay?”

“Glad everything is all settled,” I smile.

“I’ll walk you out, I have Pinker waiting for me downstairs.” Donnelly has an arm over my shoulders, three voices seem to catch his attention, “Rusty, Phelps, Bekowsky” they look over, “This is Valencia Clark.”

“I believe we’ve met,” Bekowsky jests.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Clark.” Phelps gives me a light smile.

“Hi,” Rusty is short.

“There’s a reason for this greeting,” he pulls his arm away, “starting tomorrow, Valencia will be your new partner, Rusty.”

He slightly spits out the water in his mouth, “Excuse me?”

“Did I stutter, Rusty?”

“No, Cap…”

“Good,” he gives me a single pat on my shoulder, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Val.” With that, he was gone.

The four of us stand there for a moment, not making eye contact with each other. “So, Valencia,” Bekowsky begins, “how come you want to be a Detective?”

“What makes you think you’ve earned the rank of a Detective?” Rusty’s malice doesn’t phase me.

“I think I’m perfectly ready for this,” I smile lightly, “Given that I just came back from Sacramento. My profession out there was a DA Investigator.”

Phelps lets out a low whistle, “No kidding?”

“I found the job to become less and less attractive to me. James has been a family friend for years. He knows what I’m capable of. He wouldn’t have let me join if I wasn’t.”

“We don’t need a broad playing cops and robbers. At least, not on my dime,” Rusty is glaring at me. I think.

“Are you glaring at me?” I ask, a sticky sweet smile on my face, “I can’t tell, given how the wrinkles kind of overshadow your abnormally small eyes.”

Bekowsky tries to stifle his laugh, “S-sorry,”

“If you think I won’t hit you.”

I slide my purse off my shoulder, “We can take this outside, if you want to.”

Phelps is staring at me, completely bewildered to the conversation taking place in front of him, his eyes then moving to Bekowsky. Bekowsky was trying really hard not to laugh, his lip bit as he faces away from the other two.

Rusty looks at me for a good minute, “Investigator, huh?”

“Yes,” I match his stare, “it got boring. Everything over predictable. Plus, I felt tired of Sacramento in general. So, I decided to come back home, and work as a homicide Detective.”

“Well, I can’t wait to see you on the job, Valencia.” Bekowsky has calmed himself down.

“Oh, I’m just jumping for joy to see it,” Rusty drinks the last of the water in his cup.

“You guys will have to give me details,” Phelps turns around, “I’m not in this precinct anymore. Can’t wait to hear about it, though.” He takes his leave first.

Pulling my purse onto my shoulder again, “I will see you tomorrow, Rusty. Really looking forward to our first day of bonding.”

“Goody gumdrops.” Rusty rolls his eyes. He watches as I leave, “Can we feed her to Roy?”

“What do you mean?” Bekowsky side eyes him.

“I’d love to see her mouth off to him,” his arms cross, “she’ll be slapped back into her place.”

“Why don’t you do it?”

“Because I can’t get away with it, but Roy can. Cap is a family friend. Roy is a different department all together. Do you really think he’d keep his anger in check if she spoke to him like that?”

“Right to the floor,” he mutters, “though, I don’t agree with what you’re saying. Maybe she’ll surprise you. You trust Donnelly’s words, right?”

“Of course,” he takes on last look towards his office, “I don’t have a choice either way. Can’t wait to be slowed down and be nagged to death.”

Chapter Text

I look at myself once more in my wall mirror, wearing my forest long sleeve button up, matching slacks and my shin high black boots with a small heel. All my raven hair was pulled back into a low bun, curled bangs over my forehead. The last touch is my charcoal tilt hat. My makeup is very natural looking, no loud colors. Not even on my lips, I used a light gloss.

My dad called earlier, warning me again about how the other Detectives and officers might treat me, and the warning about running into… him.

Locking the door behind me, walking towards my pine colored 1940’s mercury vehicle. My thoughts went to calling a taxi, but I feel like driving today. Although, I don’t have my house anymore, I found a very nice condo close to Central Station. We’ll have to go in Rusty’s car because my car doesn’t have a siren or radio. I still haven’t decided if I want those in my car.

I park my car in the back-parking lot of the station, and I head inside. Eyes follow me the moment I have one-foot in. Ignoring them, walk up the stairs to get to the homicide briefing room. Rusty is sitting in the way back, our eyes catch. I sit down next to him, “Good morning, Partner.”

Rusty lets out a low growl, “Morning.”

“Aww, c’mon. Can’t be grumpy on the first date.”

Before he can retort, James finally joins the room, “Good mornin’ everyone, I’d like everyone to give a warm welcome to Detective Valencia Clark.”

There are murmurs in the room, pretty generic of what I thought I would hear. A little something about me being a woman, a little bit teasing Rusty and the last of the unimaginative insults was telling me to get back in my place. “I said warm,” James snaps.

“Everything is okay, Captain,” I stand, “kind of insulted by all the generic taunts and thought they’d be more creative for Detectives, but everything is fine.”

The room is actually quiet for a second, James chuckles a few times, “Alright, now down to business,” he looks down at his podium, “Rusty and Clark, got a call on a murder suicide, six-fifty-one-three, Sundown ave.”

We leave the room, “I’ll be doing the driving by the way,” he pushes pass me down the stairs.

“Lead the way,” I’m trying to hide my sarcasm.

I’m met with a small grunt, which is making it hard not to laugh at his juvenile behavior. We get in the car, “Alright, do me a favor and be quiet when you need to, and leave the talking to me.”

“How about I promise not to do any of that, and you kindly go fuck yourself,” I snap towards him, “I don’t want you as my partner either. Think I want some irritable, passed his prime asshole as a partner? No, I don’t, but we’re both adults, so grow the fuck up.”

The rest of the car ride is quiet, full of the anger emitting from the two of us circle around in the car. We pull up in front of the house, entering the house. “Who’s this, Rusty?”

“I’m Detective Valencia Clark, homicide,” I hold my hand out for him.

He grabs mine, “Malcolm Carruthers, I’m the coroner.”

“So, this is a murder suicide?”

“Looks like it,” he crouches down in front of the man on the floor, “This is Adam Baker, and the woman is his wife, Miranda Baker.”

“Alright,” I look down, “who’s the murderer?”

“I’m putting my money on Adam boy there,” Rusty interjects, “she’s shot straight in the forehead.”

“But so, does he,” I gesture, “where’s the entrance wound? This is the exit wound.”

“Back here,” Mal turns the vic’s head.

I kneel down, “The gun on the floor isn’t what killed him.”

“What are you going on about?” Rusty asks.

“A forty-five ACP isn’t what he was shot with,” I turn his head a bit more to see it closely, “and there’s no shrapnel burns on him. Shrapnel burns into the skin. Which mean the gun had to have been at the very least, five feet away. Not only that, this is a really stupid spot to try to off yourself with.”

I look at the exit wound, “It isn’t thin enough to be forty-five, I’d put money on it being thirty-eight SPL. There wasn’t another gun in the house, so there were at least three people here. Two died, one left. The one who left, took the other gun with him.”

“But then why is there a gun here?” Rusty looks down at me.

“To make who ever came to this house believe the gun left behind is the ‘smoking’ gun. Which it’s not. Even if it was suicide, why would you shoot from the very back? It leaves too much to chance.”

“I hope you don’t mind if I ask how you know all this?” Mal stands.

“My dad’s a Captain in the Army,” I follow in suit, “was made part of the seventy-fifth Ranger Regiment, also. We’ve gone shooting together for a long time.”

“Detectives,” A patrol man comes through the door, “neighbors saw a close friend of the couple flee after they heard the gun shots. Name is a Victor Ramas, five-oh-five-six, Mariposa ST.”

“Thank you,” my eyes shoot to Rusty, “player three has been found.”

“First timers’ luck,” he mutters as he exits the house.

“Let me know if there’s anything off when you conduct the autopsy, please.”

“Of course,” I head towards the door, “it was very nice meeting you, Detective Clark.”

I look over my shoulder, “Like wise.” Joining Rusty in the car, “I hope that guy is home, it’d be nice to wrap this up quickly.”

Nothing is really said for a little bit, both of us just listening to the radio. The address isn’t far from the crime scene, he pulls up in front of the house. We walk up to the door, and he knocks. “Can I help you?” He asks, the pupil of his eyes almost covering the brown iris.

“We have a couple of questions for your concerning a case,” Rusty pushes his way in.

“What case? What happened?”

“Adam and Miranda Baker were found dead this morning,” I stand next to Rusty, “we heard that you were a really close friend.”

“Ad.. Adam and Miranda? Dead? What are you talking about?” He sits down on his couch.

Pulling out my notebook, “Both found with matching bullets through their heads.”

“This doesn’t feel real,” he looks like he’s trying to work up tears. All I’m hearing is sniffling, no tears.

“Can we ask you some questions?”

“Y-yeah…”

I open my notebook, “Do you know if the Baker’s were having marriage troubles?”

“They fought a lot, but I don’t know if it went as far as separating.”

“What were they fighting about?”

“I don’t think I should-“

“What were they fighting about?” Rusty reiterates me, giving a strong glare.

Victor sighs heavily, “Adam always thought Miranda was cheating on him. I asked him if he had proof, he said no, but she was being sneaky. In his mind, sneakiness equates cheating.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

I roll my eyes while they’re closed to conceal that, “How close were you to them?’

“We’ve been friends for years. They were like my siblings.”

My eyes catch something in the very corner of my eye. The tip of a gun behind a couple boxes, but I can’t see what kind it is. I stand up, gesturing for Rusty to sit. With hesitation, he does. “Siblings, huh? Were you with your ‘siblings’ last night?” He asks.

“No, I wasn’t anywhere near them last night.”

“Where were you?”

“Here, all night.”

“All night, huh?” I asked, standing in the middle of an arch way into the dining room. “Nice gun, mind if I look at it?”

“I mind very much, actually,” he stands.

“It was a rhetorical question, I’m looking at it either way,” I pick it up, checking for bullets, the gun is empty. “All night?”

“Yes,” Victor snaps, “can you two leave, please? I’ve answered your questions.”

“You mean you lied to us.”

“I did no such thing!”

I slam the gun down, “Then why the fuck did the neighbors see you running away from their house like a coward, you fucking coke-head?”

He says nothing, getting ready to get to me. Rusty shoves him back, Victor hitting the floor, “Answer the damn question!”

“Tony!”

Before I can turn around to where he’s looking, someone locking their arms around me, locking around my own arms. Victor kicks Rusty’s shin as he looked away, “You motherfucker,” he kicks Victor’s stomach once.

I stomp on Tony’s shoe, making him loosen his hold. My elbow slams into his stomach, head butting him with the back of my head. The moment I was free, Tony leaning forward, my knee collides with his face. He hits the floor, I roll him over and dig my knee into the middle of his back, “You’re under arrest for assault, asshole,” I cuff his wrists.

“I didn’t assault you!”

“Not what we saw, now shut the fuck up before I make you shut the fuck up.”

Rusty handcuffed Victor, “I’ll call for pick up.”

The black and whites show up, taking the two of them down to the station. “Well, I’m hungry.” I look at him.

“It is lunch time,” Rusty jests.

We find a place close to us, we both sit at a booth, “Can I start you off with a drink?” The waitress smiles at us.

I pick up my menu, “I’ll take a Singapore Sling, please.”

“Three fingers of rye,” she nods once, walking to get our drinks. “You don’t mind drinking on the job?”

I glance over my menu, “As long as you’re not slurring your words, and you’re not stumbling, I don’t give a shit.”

Our drinks come back, and we order our food. I can’t hide behind my menu anymore. “So, your dad taught you how to do all that?”

“Yeah,” I fold my hands on the table, “Captain, was there for Kasserine Pass, Normandy and his company were the first into the Rhine. He helped stop them from blowing the last bridge. He’s been in the Military my entire life. He made sure that I’d always be able to defend myself.”

“What about your mom?”

My eyes glance away, “My mom left before I could even make out faces. My dad raised me on his own.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Rusty leans back, “I think you and I are going to be just fine.”

I smile, “I think so too.”

Chapter Text

“Get up, Valencia!” Dad yells at me, flipping my mattress. I stumble to my feet, the clock in my room letting me know it’s five in the morning. He rushes me while I put on my clothes, and I follow him out of the back door. It’s pouring rain, I slip slightly in my boots. I bet no one else in my fifth-grade class has to do any of this.

“Twenty cork-screw lunges!”

As I do the reps, my body is shaking uncontrollably. It’s so cold outside, the rain soaking me within seconds. I can’t remember never being woken up so early in my entire life. The past seven years has been nothing but waking up to whatever plan my dad had that morning. Every day, even if it’s a school day, and even if it’s a holiday.

The aching it would leave behind wasn’t even painful anymore. I’m so used to my body being pushed first thing in the morning, that I don’t even really feel it anymore. It’s just the way things are. I’m always in some sort of pain, but a solider doesn’t show it. If I were to show it, my dad would extend the workout for the next day. I haven’t complained in years.

“Thirty push-up rotations!” My dad crouches down.

My hands keep slipping through the mud, feeling the rocks hidden beneath it cut through my palms. I completely slip, face first into the ice-cold mud, seeping between my fingers. I brush my arm over my eyes, trying to get into position again. The moment I lift my hand from the ground to do the first rotation, I slip again. My entire side being covered in mud.

“Dad,” I pant, “I ca-can’t. The mud is too slippery.”

“Fine,” his light gray, disapproving eyes burn into mine, “get up.”

With no hesitation, I scramble back to my feet. I follow him into our garage, he locks the door leading out to the back yard. The lock too high for me to reach, and the items that are usually in here are gone. Our garage is empty. Where did all of the stuff in here go?

Before I notice, my dad closes the door behind me. When I try to turn the knob, it doesn’t budge. “Dad?” I knock.

“Since you can’t handle a little rain and mud, maybe dealing with something else will help you stop being a fucking baby.”

I look at my hands, little nicks pooling with the mud. A disgusting color of blood and earth. “What are you talking about?”

“Remember that name and numbers run through we did a few days ago?”

“Valencia Rae Clark, zero-two-one-four-one-nine-two-two,” I recite.

“So, you’re going to say that three times in a row,” the small window on the door sliding down, “with this,” he’s holding a silver can.

“W-what is that?”

He doesn’t say anything when he throws it into the garage at me, smoke spilling into the air. The smoke pushes itself into my lungs, I can’t stop coughing. “I don’t hear you!”

“V-al—enc,” coughing tears through my words. I’m hacking slightly, “Valencia Rae Cl-rk,” I can’t do it.

“You’re not coming inside until you do this!”

Tears start streaming my cheeks, “Valencia Rae Clark, one-three-“

“There is no three!”

The smoke is hurting my lungs more and more, my throat going raw from the coughing. No more words want to come out, no matter how much my dad screams through the door.

Jolting awake, covered in sweat. Haven’t had that nightmare in a while. I get out of bed to go to my kitchen, and I grab a bottle of whiskey out of one of my cabinets. I take the lid off, drinking right from the bottle.

It’s been a week since my first day, and everything seems really nice. I rush in through the door of a diner, my eyes scanning around. All four of us are meeting for lunch today, but I’m running a little late. “Val!” Stefan raises his hand.

I make my way towards them, slipping in next to Stefan, across from Cole. “Thought you stood us up,” Cole jokes.

“Yeah, sorry about that, had an off night.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just one of those nights.”

“Can we finally order, Stefan, or should we wait for something else?” Rusty looks across the table.

“Don’t make me think of something else,” Stefan shoots back a smile.

We share a laugh, giving our orders to the waiter. “So, how are you gentlemen doing on this fine day?” I say in a few pitches higher than my normal pitch.

“Thinking about pressing charges against you for attempted murder through starvation,” Rusty has loosened up about me being female. We’re a pretty good team, his word carries more weight, and my defense is better than his.

“Technically,” I nudge my shoulder into Stefan’s, “that’s his fault.”

“Oh, yeah, throw me under the bus, Val,” he glares, “how’s your temp partner doing, Cole?”

Cole rolls his eyes, “Not very well. I might as well just be on my own.”

“How so?”

“For someone being a Detective in Vice for as long as he has, he knows nothing. Even when I have that asshole with me, he knows where to go.”

“Being crooked helps you know the seedy side of the law,” Stefan sticks a straw in his drink, “when’s your asshole coming back? Tomorrow?"

"Thankfully, I asked for this day off, so I don’t have to do another day with him, I’ll lose my mind.”

“Asshole?” I question.

“My real partner has been gone for a week. Something about family.”

“We’re partially the evolution for romance, you know?” Stefan says in a mock monotone voice.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Rusty eyes him.

“Single, to married, to divorce,” he points at each of us.

I laugh, “What do you deem single as being? Like, not in a relationship?”

“Well, yeah.”

“I think I fill in the missing piece more” I lean back.

“How?”

“Once upon a time, I was engaged.”

“Really now?” Cole asks.

“Yeah, broke it off around a year ago.”

“Fell out of love, Val?” Stefan nudges me back.

“Actually, quite the opposite,” I fold my hands on the table, “I still deeply love him, but we just weren’t going to work out.”

“Marriage is hard,” Cole looks at me.

“We were together for five years, engaged for the last year. Things just kind of changed really quick. It was like I blinked, and he was a different person.”

Our food arrives, “How’d you tell him to hit the road?” Rusty is partially chewing his food.

I shift, “I will be the first to admit what I did was spineless, but I couldn’t work up the nerve to tell him any of it. I had my job lined up in Sacramento, my apartment too. We hadn’t moved in together yet, but we had keys to each other’s house.”

“Then?”

“While he was at work, I snuck in his house. All I left was my ring, they key to his house and a ‘Dear John’ letter. Straight from his house, I got in my car to start the drive to Sacramento. I never heard from him again.”

“That’s some cold shit, Val, not going to lie,” Stefan wipes his mouth, “impressive.”

“I would’ve expected you to throw him down some stairs or something,” Rusty laughs, “you’re fucking crazy, Clark.”

“Oh, yeah!” Stefan joins in, “When do Cole and I get to see you kick some ass?”

“I don’t think Rusty has the patience for a ride along, Stefan.”

The table laughs, “Just Stefan and I in the back seat, asking if we’re there yet,” Cole snickers harder.

“No juice boxes or crackers either,” Rusty looks at the three of us.

We get some glances from the other tables around us, though the other three don’t seem phased by it. I’m actually really glad that I came back home, these three are kind of assholes, but there some of the best people I’ve met so far. I told dad that I could be accepted as a Detective.

Chapter Text

Rusty’s POV

I lean against the wall, waiting for the Skipper to come back to us. We have a guy in interview one, a suspect in a brutal gangrape and murder of an eighteen-year-old girl. A new kind of fucking disgusting, we should just beat the shit out of him to get him to turn on his little buddies.

My eyes glance over to Clark, who is extremely pissed off. Not only about the case at hand, but the guy in there smacked her before she knocked him on his ass. Why Donnelly is having us wait for him to return, I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Clark this mad before.

“Rusty, Val,” Donnelly finally turns the corner. He has Cole and Stefan in tow.

“Yes, James?” Clark asks, her teeth grit.

“The animal in there shows no remorse, but sinners will throw other sinners under the bus to save their Hyde,” he pauses, “let Val take charge, Rusty.”

Clark uncrosses her arms, “Alright, you sit in the chair, Bar.”

Opening the door, I let her in first. I’m not sure why he wants her to take charge, but Clark is kind of fucking nuts. Like a ‘glad she’s on our side’ kind of nuts.  I take my seat like Cap said, my eyes glancing over to Clark.

“Oh, are you still playing cops and robbers, bitch?” This mistake of a human being spits, taking everything in me not to punch the son of a bitch.

Clark has an amused smile on her face, which is off-putting. A small chuckle escapes, “Bitch? Really? That’s the best you got? Maybe I can add a charge of generic threats.”

“Excuse me?”

“Gotta dumb it down? Alright, you’re a fucking dumbass.”

“If you think I’m going to let some cunt speak to me like that,” he attempts to stand up, but I’m able to get my hands around his handcuffs.

“Well, you’re going to have to let me be a cunt, whether you like it or not,” she stands behind him, “who are the other two?”

He laughs, “Like I’ll give up my friends.”

The interview is starting to seep into a run around, Cap will tell me to take my turn. Clark looks at me, and there’s something wrong. There’s something wrong in her eyes. They’re completely glazed over. She motions for me to hold on to his handcuffs. “So, you’re just a fucking fall guy? Couldn’t guess by your negative fifty IQ.”

“Fall guy? You guys don’t have enough to charge me.”

“We don’t?”

“No, you fucking don’t, you stupid fucking whore.”

Another laugh lets out, her hand placing against the back of his neck, “I think we do.”

The guy starts squirming, trying to rip his hands away from me. I don’t know what Clark is doing, but his face is full of pain. Her face, is completely blank as he starts yelling in agony, “What the fuck are you doing?!”

Clark isn’t even looking at either of us, “Helping you learn how to be more respectful,” even her voice is flat.

“I’ll tell you! Just fucking stop!”

Her hand retracts from the back of his neck, some blood on her thumb and middle finger. She wipes it off on the guy’s jacket, “Who helped you, you fucking miserable excuse of cells.”

“Stan Connor and Peter Connor. They’re cousins.”

“Was the girl picked out for a reason?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Are you fucking sure about it?”

He sits there in silence, shaking slightly. A few moments pass by, “Stan was dating Izzy. The two of them were together for about a year or so. Things got rough, Izzy broke things off. She moved on a little too fast for his liking.”

Clark leans towards him, “Keep talking.”

“He figured the two of them were doing things while they were still together. I didn’t know we were going to do that.”

“What do you mean?”

The guy won’t make eye contact with her, “We were just supposed scare the new boyfriend a little. When we got there, he wasn’t with her. Peter and Stan push themselves into the house, she starts screaming…”

“She starts screaming, then what?” I ask.

“Peter brought a gun with him, that I didn’t know about. I’m trying to tell them we need to leave. Her new beau wasn’t in the house, she’s crying that they weren’t even together anymore,” he takes a breath, “Peter tells me to hold her down, or he’d fucking shoot me. I finally can’t take it anymore, and I back away from Stan and Peter doing… what they were doing… then there was a loud thud and she went silent.”

“So, you didn’t take any part in the sexual part of this?”

“No, they threatened…”

Clark slams her hands on the table, “Threatened what?”

“They said they would out me,” he looks at me, “my entire family would disown me.”

“You let a young woman get brutally assaulted and murdered. Mentioned not giving them up. And you have the fucking gall to not stop any of it for your own selfish horseshit?” Clark makes him look at her, “I’m pretty sure her screams and her pain outweigh your own fucking cowardice of being outed. She deserved to die because you just happen to be gay?”

“I didn’t know they were going to do all that!” He breaks down into tears, I let go of his cuffs.

“But you still fucking let them!” Her scream bounced around the room, “You let them fucking murder someone who was barely an adult. You were able to stay in the room with her cries and her wails! You expect me to be more understanding because you’re in the closet? Fuck you.”

The guy is just a broken mess of crying, he’s sorry, he wished he had done something else, “I’m sorry.”

“Alright, Clark,” I stand, “we got what we needed.”

“Hold on,” she grabs him by the back of his shirt, “if I walk out that door and I find out you lied or I find out you didn’t tell me everything, I will be the one to personally escort you back into this room. Let me tell you something, those two trigger points are the least painful in the body. I’ll show you the others. Understand?”

He doesn’t say anything, until I open the door, “Wait,” she turns around, “they’re hiding at that shit hotel near Oswald. They have bus tickets to Maine that leaves on Wednesday.”

“That all?”

“Y…yeah.”

Clark walks passed me, and I shut the door behind me. “What the hell was all that?” Stefan asks.

“All that was Val getting him to give up the other two swines,” his hand is on her shoulder, “I knew you’d get him to talk.”

“Can you send some people to pick those two up?”

Donnelly looks at her for a moment, “Of course, I can. You did well, Val, you father will be proud.”

He walks away, my eyes going to back to Clark. She seems pale, “You okay, Clark?”

“U-uh, yeah. I just need a moment in the restroom,” she quickly slips down the hall.

Valencia’s POV

As soon as the bathroom door shuts, I slide down against it. The older I get the worse this feels. I’m not in my body right now, it’s hard to explain. If I get too violent, there’s a small… switch in the back of my mind. Like it turns off the lights in my brain. I can’t even remember what I did. Why is there blood under my nails?

Wait, no, I did the trigger points. What else did I do? Outside of that and yelling, I have no clue if I did something else violent. I’m able to get to my feet, taking a moment to look at myself in the mirror. Trying to straighten everything up, trying to look like there’s nothing wrong. There’s only three people on this planet can see through my façade once it happens.

Donnelly noticed, which is why he had no qualms of someone else picking the other two up. He knows that I just need a moment to myself after doing something like that. Only thing is, I haven’t had to raise the violence above what’s expected of a Detective. Interviewing is above that, because they need to talk, and they need to talk fast.

I open the door, “You okay, Clark?” Cole asks.

“Yeah,” I force a laugh, “those interview rooms are so hot sometimes.”

“Where’d you learn to do that?”

“Do what?”

Stefan rubs the back of his neck, “The thing with his neck. What was that?”

“We have spots on our bodies referred to trigger points. Trigger points cause your muscles to become stressed and to contract.”

“I have to get another notepad for your tips, Val,” Stefan jests, pulling out his traffic pad.

“Where’s your partner, Cole? Thought he was coming back today?”

“He did,” Cole crosses his arms, “said he’ll be a hundred percent tomorrow, whatever the hell that means.”

“It means, he’s still dodging work,” Rusty is still looking at me.

“Well, we’re all grabbing dinner tomorrow. Gotta get you two acquainted and everything,” Cole smiles, “it’ll be a nice night.”

“As long as there’s liquor, Cole,” I correct.

We share a small laugh, deciding where to go for lunch. I think they’ve bought that I’m okay. That who they just saw doing that is normal me. It’s not. I’m not even in me when that happens.

Chapter Text

It’s four in the morning, got called for two dead vics. I slide out of the taxi I called, walking over to Rusty. “There you are,” he sounds tired.

“Good morning, Bar,” I hold a to go cup full of coffee out to him.

“Thanks, Clark,” he takes a sip, “I haven’t been here long, Mal gave me a quick rundown. Haven’t taken a look myself.”

I set my coffee on the hood of his car; the first body isn’t far from it. I crouch down, “What do you think it was, Mal?”

Mal looks over his notebook, “For this one, I would guess it would be asphyxiation due to the bruising around his neck.”

My fingers drag along the bruise, “Hey, wait a minute.”

“Hmm?” Mal crouches to my level.

As gently as I can, I turn the vic’s head to the left, “Is that a puncture?”

“I missed that,” he takes a closer look.

Looking in his jacket pockets, an empty syrette and an unused one still in its yellow box, “Hey, Bar!”

“Yeah?”

“Wake Cole’s ass up, he needs spend some time in the cold with us,” I smile, Mal chuckling for a moment.

“Morphine?”

“Of course.”

Rusty starts walking towards his car to request Vice, so I go on to look at the second vic. My stomach jerks a little when I look at him, “Why was he almost decapitated and the other one has a little puncture point?”

“I think that’s your and Rusty’s job. I just tell you when and how they died.”

“Jesus Christ,” Rusty mutters as he looks down, “Vice is on their way.”

After searching his body, I find nothing. “There’s nothing in any of his pockets. No wallet, no keys, no syrette,” I lean his head forward very carefully, “the laundry tag was even removed from his shirt.”

“What about the other guy? Besides the morphine.”

“Had a wallet, no ID.”

The three of us share some small chit-chat, waiting on Vice. Mal says that these two might be dealers of some sort, and that maybe Vice will know who they are. We’ve checked their bodies, and any bits of evidence. My hands are wrapped around my coffee, keeping them warm.

“What do we have?” Cole yawns, still trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

Crouching down at the first vic, “He’s got bruises all over his neck, including a puncture on the right side of his neck. Wallet, no ID, a used syrette and an unused syrette. As for vic two, he has nothing on him and, well… I wouldn’t recommend moving him too much, Cole.”

There are a few moments of silence, “Good God… Thanks for letting me know. There you are.”

“Not going to lie, I’m still a little jet lagged,” his partner’s voice shoots into my brain, and everything kind of slows down a little bit. I’m hearing things. I always do after those switches.

“Wakey, wakey, Roy,” Rusty taunts.

“Uh,” I’m still waiting for my breath to catch up to me, “who’s this?”

“Rusty’s new partner, Detective Valencia Clark. This is my partner, Detective Roy Earle.”

 Not looking up, I continue to make it look like I’m double checking the pockets, “Hello, Detective Earle,” I stand up.

“Detective Clark?” There’s disdain in his voice.

“Yes, Valencia Clark, Detective Earle,” I hold my hand out.

Roy glances around for a moment, and I feel like we’re that raunchy couple at a wedding that’s had too much to drink. He looks at me again, “Nice to meet you,” he shakes my hand.

“Now I’ve seen everything,” Rusty laughs, elbowing Cole.

Cole lets us out a small laugh, “Roy, want to take a look at this one?”

“No, you and Rusty can. I’d like to ask Detective Valencia Clark a few questions. Looks like she’s looking for something on this one.”

The two of them shrug as they walk towards the second vic. We’re both crouched down again, “How have you been?”

“How have I been?” He’s keeping his voice low.

“Yes, how’ve you been?”

“Are you fucking kidding right now, Ence?”

“Look,” I lock eyes with him, “I know what you’re talking about, but we are working right now. You and I can discuss this later. Right now, we have to find out who these two are, catch who killed them and maybe they’ll lead us to people who have more syrettes.”

He tightens his jaw as Mal comes back into ear shot, “No ID?”

“Wallet, nothing in it. Not even money.”

“Hard to find cash on junkies,” his eyes glance towards Mal. As soon as Mal started talking to Cole and Rusty, his angry oceans dug into me for a moment. “You expect me to be calm after you fucking vanished? You literally vanished into thin air. I couldn’t find you.”

“We can talk about this later,” I glance over my shoulder. The three of them are in a deep conversation, which means they can’t come save me from this.

“Where did you even go?”

“Detect-“

“You call me Detective Earle one more time,” his teeth grate.

“Sacramento. I went to Sacramento.”

“Why?”

“I just-“

“Find anything else, guys?” Cole asks, looking down at us.

“No,” I stand, “neither of you recognize either of these men?”

Roy stood, gathering his composure, “I don’t know either. Two John Does, both killed in different ways. This is a great morning and a great first day back.”

Rusty raises an eyebrow, “So, what do we even do? There’s literally no evidence.”

“Pinker and I will try to find anything we can and get back to you guys. Whoever did this was smart.” Mal crosses his arms.

Roy waits until Mal is out of ear shot, “In the meantime, why don’t the four of us go grab some breakfast.”

“I don’t know,” I pull out my notepad, “Rusty and I have another case to work on too.”

“I’ll pay.”

“Can’t say no to free food, Clark,” Rusty looks at me.

I’m able to keep myself from sighing, “Alright, where?”

“Diner up the street,” Roy smiles.

With nothing more than a nod, Rusty and I walk over to his car. He gets in the driver seat, and things are quiet. “You okay, Clark?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Did Roy say anything to you while we were with the other vic?”

“Just asked about the vics,” I glance out the window.

“To prepare you, Roy is a fucking dick. I mean, I’m a fucking dick too, but he’s worse. He’s probably going to say some dumb shit at breakfast, just don’t take it personally. He’s an asshole in general.”

A small scoff comes out, “Thanks for the heads up. This ought to be a great breakfast.”

Rusty pulls into the parking lot, taking a spot next to where Roy parked his car. Walking into the diner, the four of us are shown to a booth. I sit next to Rusty, and I’m across from Cole. I think they purposefully did that, so I wasn’t next to him and I wasn’t right in front of him.

We get our food ordered, “So, Detective Clark, where’d you grow up?”

“Right here in L.A, Detective Earle.” I spit back.

He’s starting to get annoyed, the small twitch of the left side of his face, “Have any siblings?”

“No, only child,” If he wants to be immature, then fine. He can and is probably entitled to it.

“Parents?”

“Raised by my dad, I never knew my mom.”

“Wh-“

“Why are we grilling her, exactly?” Cole cuts him off.

Roy smirks, “I’m not grilling her. I’m getting to know her, Cole. Am I not supposed to get to know her?”

“You can,” Rusty sips his coffee, “but you’re just getting really creepy. Where do you live? What’s your blood type? What car do you drive?” He jests, bumping his shoulder into mine.

A small laugh escapes from me, and I can still read Roy’s face quite easily. Rusty making any physical contact towards me made him tense, which kind of makes me a laugh a little more, “It’s okay, guys. I can handle the Detective’s questions.”

“How was your family, Roy?” Cole tries to steer the conversation somewhere else.

“They’re all fine and dandy. Was a family reunion,” his eyes swipe back towards me, “got any other family besides your dad?”

“Nope,” I match his stare.

There are a few moments of us trying to stare down each other, Cole shifts uncomfortably, while Rusty is trying not to laugh. “You two falling in love or what?” He jokes.

“Of course, we are,” I roll my eyes.

“Maybe you can replace the engagement guy.”

“Engagement?” Roy asks, “You were engaged?”

I’ll play his game, “Yes, I was.”

“Guy must’ve been smart to break it off, then.”

“Actually, I broke it off with him. Unfortunately, I couldn’t sleep at night. The reason I couldn’t sleep is because I could hear the wind whistling in and out of his ears. It was rather loud.”

Cole and Rusty laugh, and I can see it deep within Roy’s eyes, the rage starting to bubble up, but he doesn’t want it to spill over. He looks away from me, “Aren’t you just a lovely lady?”

“Lovely enough, Detective Earle.”

Our food is brought to the table, and everything is pretty quiet conversation wise. I was starving, and apparently Rusty was too. As our meal starts wrapping up, “Think we should go see Mal,” Cole carefully stacks his dishes for the waitress to grab.

“He better be able to get us something,” Roy’s drops his napkin on his plate, “because we don’t have a fucking clue.”

“I gotta use the bathroom before any of that,” Rusty stands from the table.

“Me too,” Cole slips out after Rusty.

Roy is sitting in front of me now, “For someone who claimed to love me for five years, you’re a real fucking bitch.”

“You started this,” I snap back, “you picked this place on purpose. You asked all those questions, not me, you fucking asshole.”

“You fucking disappeared from the city,” he’s trying to keep his voice as low as he can.

“And I apologize for that.”

“Oh, gee, I guess everything is under the bridge,” he looks towards the restrooms, “The letter didn’t even give me a reason. I didn’t know there was anything wrong between us. I come home from work, there’s the ring. I go to your house; your shit is already gone. We were in the middle of planning our wedding, and you just,” he snaps once, “poof.”

I don’t respond to that as I see Cole and Rusty coming back to our table, “We will talk about this when we’re not working. Or in public. You want everyone to know about that? You want Cole and Rusty knowing what happened between us?”

With a simple shake of his head, “Guys ready to head to Mal now?”

“Not much else we can do,” Cole rubs the back of his neck, “we literally have nothing.”

“If nothing is found, Rusty and I are going to be working on a different case that we have,” I stand from the table.

Rusty is the last to stand, “Thanks for breakfast, Roy.”

Roy looks at me one more time, “You’re welcome.”

Chapter Text

I sigh, my chin resting on my hand while being propped up on my elbow, it’s getting close to lunch rush, but there’s just a lull between breakfast and lunch in the diner I work in. My eyes run over the booth side of the building, each with silver wear, all condiments and shinning with my help.

The black granite counter area pristine, set up perfectly down the row of built in stools, a ring of a sapphire blue and ebony tile pattern over the top, the seat being a dark brown. There are some people in the further off booths, but that’s being taken care of by a co-worker. I come in right before she leaves.

My shift, everything gets deep cleaned as soon as I get here. I don’t want people to be put off because something’s not clean, or that the tables aren’t set. I know it’s not required for waitress to do cleaning like that, but it would embarrass me if something wasn’t right. The other wait staff don’t do it, so who else is supposed to? Not like standing around is any better, at least it’s something to do.

“Everything looks so shiny when you’re here, Val,” Bea, my coworker, smiles at me.

Bea is a natural red head, freckles spattered across her nose very lightly, contrasting against her pallid skin. She’s a little on the heavier side, but certainly not fat. She’s been working here for a couple of years, trying to raise her son on her own.

I return a smile, “I have to do something, y’know?”

“Of course,” her eyes glance towards the door. The other co-worker on my shift comes in.

Lupe is Hispanic, her hair as dark as mine and bright black eyes. That’s probably the only bright thing about her. She’s always angry when she’s here, doesn’t really like doing the cleaning part of our job. She’s not the most useless employee here, that easily goes the Christine.

Christine has some of the clearest blue eyes I’ve seen in my life, skin not quite as light as mine, she’s darker compared to me. Her blond locks always up in whatever hair do she decides to do that day. She thinks that she’s special and that she doesn’t need to lift a finger. Always talking about how she’s going to become a model and leave us all the time. She’s been saying this for two years, and yet here she is, not modeling.

“Hey, Lupe,” I nod as she joins us behind the counter.

“Hey,” her accent is light, but her tone is sharp.

“How’re you doing?”

“Fine,” she snaps as she ties her apron on.

Giving up on having any nice conversation with her, “Your tables are empty, right, Bea?”

“Yeah, I’m ready to head out,” she gives me a hug, “I’ll see you tomorrow, same shift.” With a small wave, she swoops out the door. Lupe and Bea don’t like each other. I don’t know why, but they don’t like each other.

As fast as she left, was how fast the lunch rush was about to be. All the tables are clean and open for anyone to sit there. A few people start coming in, sitting up at the counter. I do my own thing, and Lupe does her own thing. We can conversate while working, can’t hold a conversation outside of it.

“Val,” I look at her, “you take care of them.”

“Take care of who?”

Lupe pulls me towards the door, pointing out a group of four who just entered, “I don’t take care of cops,” she hisses. The reason why is her brother was deported; he was the only sibling out of six who wasn’t born here.

“Alright,” I leave from behind counter, rushing over to the small group. I lead them towards a booth towards the back of the diner, leaving the counter partially up to her. “What drink can I get for you?”

The three Detective’s give me what drink they wanted but are unremarkable. Almost like they were just clones of the same person. Still waiting on the last Detective, he looks up at me. He has these piercing powder blue eyes that looked right through you. Giving me a light smile, “This diner doesn’t serve alcohol, does it?” His voice is smooth, with some cynic mixed in.

“Unfortunately, we don’t. My apologies,” I’m taken away by just his eyes.

“Then I’ll just get a coke, then.”

I nod, turning swiftly to go grab their drinks. I wish Bea was on this shift with me, then I could do some small gossiping with her on how cute that Detective is.

Returning to their table, I hand them their drinks. Digging in the front of my uniform, looking for my note pad. I pull it out, “Are you ready to order?”

“I’ll take a cheeseburger, extra onions and a side of golden fries, please.” The Detective in the green suit holds the menu out to me.

“Regular hamburger, nothing but the buns and meat, fries as well.” The Detective in the loud orange suit barely acknowledges me.

“Regular hamburger, with tomato and lettuce, collard greens on the side, please.” The Detective in the brown suit gives me a small nod.

My attention turns towards the cute one, “What would you recommend?”

“On the rare times I do eat lunch here, I usually get the Colorado rainbow trout. It comes with fried potatoes,” I glance over my note pad.

“I’ll try that, then,” he holds out the menu.

With a simple nod, I go back towards the front of the restaurant. The small slip from my note pad gets tagged on a small, silver spinning table. Our lunch rush isn’t as full this time around, which is a nice thing. I’ve taken care over the booths; Lupe is helping at the counter. The order for the table in the back is called out, so I quickly grab a tray to carry the food out to them.

I start setting their food down, the correct plate passed to the correct order. Tucking the tray under my arm, “Did you guys need refills?”

“No, we’re good,” The Detective in the blue reassures me.

“I’ll be back to check on you guys,” Giving a light smile, I turn back towards the front of the diner.

Lupe taking the counter is starting to backfire on her, a lot of people are coming in by themselves. We don’t give booths to a single patron, if you’re here on your own, you go to the counter. Wasting a booth for a bigger party on one person doesn’t make sense.

I go over another round of the tables I’m assigned to, before heading towards the back of the diner. The small group has finished their food, chitchatting with one another. “Was everything good?” I ask, collecting their plates.

“Of course,” the cute one looks at me, “you have a good taste in food.”

“Thank you,” I nod, “did you guys want refills?”

“No, thank you ma’am. We’re getting ready to leave,” The Detective in brown states.

Bolstered, heading back towards the front of the diner. They’re still back there for another five minutes, before they come up to pay and leave. Each pay their own tab, still talking amongst each other. The cute one is the last to pay, “Thank you for your hospitality,” he pauses, his eyes going over my nametag, “Valencia.”

I hide the blush from my face, “Any time, Detective…?”

“Earle,” he smiles.

“Any time, Detective Earle.” He slips my tip, then leaves to catch up with his friends. I look down into my hand, the tip was more than generous.

Next Morning

I come in bright and early for my morning shift. More than happy that this shift is with Bea, it’s always calm when she’s here. Lupe doesn’t talk to me outside of things pertaining to work. Christine just goes on and on about her, ironically, boring life.

“Good morning, Val,” Bea waves.

“Morning, Bea,” I slip in behind the counter, “so, there was a really charming guy here yesterday.”

“Oh?”

“He was a Detective, has beautiful sapphire blue eyes.”

“What’s with you and eyes?”

I shift, “Eyes are the window to the soul. Trust me, I’ve seen dead eyes before. It’s really creepy. You can sometimes read a person by their eyes.”

Bea looks at me, “Dead eyes?”

“You can’t see any emotion, they look like they have shark eyes.”

“That does sound really creepy…”

“Anyway, he was really charismatic.”

Bea lets out a small laugh, “You’re so adorable sometimes, Val.”

I cock my head to the left, “What do you mean?”

“You’re just kind of sheltered a bit, being twenty and all. I’m glad you had something nice happen to you yesterday. Getting stuck with Lupe and all.”

“He even left me a pretty good tip. More than what would’ve been necessary.”

Bea looks at the door, the morning rush getting ready to start. Everything is prepped, nice and neat. I’m glad when I work with Bea, she helps me make everything acceptable. If I’m working with the other two, they don’t do any of it.

The small trickle of the rush slowly turns into a fountain. Breakfast rush is usually groups.  I’m taking a moment to refill our coffee pots. Last thing we need is to run out of coffee, people tend to get unreasonably upset if we do. “Do you live here?”

Turning around, and I let out a small laugh. “Sometimes it feels that way.”

“Hey, Val,” Bea walks towards me. She pauses, glancing between the to of us. Trying to hide a smile, “I’ll take care of the booths, you take care of the counter.”

“Are you sure?” There’s literally no one sitting at the counter right now, outside of the Detective.

“Yeah,” she pours coffee into two mugs. Before she leaves, she winks at me.

I raise an eyebrow at her, “Did you want coffee?” My attention goes back to Earle.

“That’d be nice,” he sits down.

I’ll ask Bea what that was all about later. I turn back towards him, “Here you go.”

“Thank you,” he starts to add sugar to his coffee, “how are you?”

“I’m good, you?”

“I’m doing quite fine.”

I fiddle around in my apron again, retrieving my note pad, “Are you going to order any food, Earle?”

“You can call me Roy. What would you get?”

“I don’t really eat in the morning, kind of makes me nauseous. However, when I can eat, I usually get the peach tartelettes with banana ice cream.”

He laughs slightly, “Ice cream first thing in the morning?”

“Yes,” I smile, “is there a law against it, Detective Earle?”

“There might be.”

“Well, you have to catch me eating it before you can take me in for questioning.”

Roy takes a sip from his coffee, “Guess I’ll have to stake the place out.”

I can’t help but giggle slightly, “Did you want to order that?”

“So, I can break the law too?”

“It’s worth it.”

“Well, you’ve talked me into it.”

I rip the paper out of my note pad, sticking it to the small table we have for orders. “So, what’s it like being a Detective?”

“I’m part of Administrative Vice, I deal with narcotics, prostitution, lewdness, etcetera. At least it’s not boring.”

“Sounds crazy, but I guess it wouldn’t be boring.” I look back, hearing his order. Setting it in front of him, I look to my left. He’s the only one sitting at the counter, I’m trying to make sure Bea is keeping up with the booths. She seems to be handling it just fine.

Roy takes a bite of it, “Really weird eating ice cream first thing in the morning, but it’s also really good.”

“I’m glad.”

Our conversation goes on for a few minutes before someone wearing a dark forest green suit and a bright yellow tie comes quickly into the diner, “There you are, Roy.”

Roy is still facing me, and he rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m getting breakfast. I’m not supposed to be at work yet, Colmyer.”

His partner looks noticeably older than him, dulling cornflower blue eyes. He walks up to us, and just like Bea did, he glances between us just as she had. “You almost done? Homicide found…,” he clears his throat, “stuff within our job, that doesn’t need to be said in front of this young lady.”

“I get it,” Roy had finished his food, but we talked a little more. He pays for his food, “See you later, Valencia.” Again, the tip was more than the actual food.

Bea takes a breath, “How’d you and your beau do?”

Blush rushes my cheeks, “He is not my beau, Bea.”

“Alright,” she places some orders, “your future beau.”

I hit her playfully with a menu, “You’re such a pain in the ass sometimes, Bea.”

Chapter Text

Roy Earle’s POV

“Donnie needs to finish up with that interview already,” Sean looks over at me and Colmyer, “I’m going to starve to death here.”

“You have plenty of fat, Sean, you’ll live,” Colmyer jests, earning a small chuckle from me.

“Ah, fuck you, grandpa,” Sean shoots back.

The three of us are waiting on lunch, well, they are. When Donnie does come out, I’ll be letting them know that I’m not eating lunch with them today. They don’t like the food at Sunrise Diner, but I’m technically not going there for the food. Something they also know, which means I’m going to get a lot of crap for it.

When Donnie opens the door, he takes a long look at us, “Jesus, you guys are clingier than my ex.”

“We’ve been waiting for you, so that we can go to lunch. I’m wasting away here, Donnie.” Sean sighs over dramatically.

“I’m just here to tell all three of you that I’m not going to lunch with you guys.”

“Why?” Donnie places his hat on his head.

“Because he has to go see his girly friend,” Sean elbows my side.

Colmyer laughs, “The bombshell?”

“Bombshell?” Donnie asks.

I roll my eyes, “I’ll talk to you guys when we’re back from lunch.”

“Wait, who’s the bombshell?”

“She’s one of the waitresses there,” Sean starts walking towards the door, “could be a pinup girl. Curves for days, makes the uniform look skintight in some areas.”

“I’m warning you once,” I spit at him, “stop talking.” We’ve made it out to the parking lot, “I’ll see you guys later.”

The three of them make some more stupid comments, only silenced by me slamming the door of my car. Sunrise isn’t far from the station, maybe a five-minute drive. It’s always a gamble when I go there, they don’t have set shifts. So, I never really know if she’s working that day or not. I’ve gone on days where she didn’t work, or I just missed her.

I park my car; really hope she’s working this shift. I’m earlier than the lunch rush they get, and it’s kind of quiet inside. I look straight to the counter, she’s here.

Valencia looks up from the counter, and her smile trickling into her full pink lips. Her breathtaking sterling silver eyes, with some small gold specs close to her pupil. The darkest raven black hair I’ve ever seen, skin with no imperfections, like she was porcelain.

As for the ‘curves’ Sean spoke of, her uniform is tight around her chest, sliding inwards on her sides to give her an hour-glass figure. The uniform seems smaller on her, than the other three I’ve seen work here. Even around the bottom of the uniform dress, her thick thighs press against the fabric.

“Good afternoon, Roy,” her voice is soft.

“How are you doing, Valencia?” I take a seat in front of her.

“I’m good,” she places her hands on the counter, “you must really like our food here.”

“What can I say? The friendly atmosphere makes food taste a little better.”

The blond waitress I’ve seen here a few times angrily gets behind the counter, “I knew you should’ve taken that table, Valencia.”

“Why?”

“They’re really rude.”

“Uh…” Valencia looks puzzled, “plenty of rude people come in here. Comes with the job when you work in customer service.”

“He doesn’t look rude,” she smiles over at me.

Valencia just stands there for a moment, “Go work your table, Christine.”

“How about we switch?”

“How about we don’t? You nearly ran me over for that table because ‘they looked rich’. That is your table.”

“I’m fine with Valencia being my waitress, there’s no need to switch.” I’m trying to be polite, but I don’t want the blond one to be my waitress. Valencia is my waitress.

Christine kind of pushes pass her, “I have seniority, go to the other table,” she looks over her shoulder, “or I’ll let Ward know.”

Valencia looks at me, tries to smile and walks out from behind the counter to go deal with the table. I’m left with Christine, “Sorry about her, she doesn’t listen,” she leans forward.

Unsure of what to say, “You had no reason to do that.”

“Aww, c’mon,” her arms place against the counter, leaning closer to me, “what would you like to drink?”

She reaches out her hand to touch me, but I lean back, “I’d like my original waitress back. You’re making me uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?”

I’m interrupted with Valencia ringing the four men up, giving their tips to her instead of Christine. She’s behind the counter again, and she crosses her arms. “Yes, uncomfortable,” I look back at Christine, “I don’t appreciate the wait staff trying to touch me.”

“Excuse me?” She stands up straight.

“Are you fucking deaf?”

“No, I’m not,” Christine leans forward again, “Ward doesn’t appreciate people being rude to me.”

“So, you have a boyfriend and you’re hitting on me? Kind of sounds like you’re a whore to be honest.”

“Fuck you!”

“No, fuck you.” I look at the two of them, “Who’s Ward?”

“Armstrong Edwards, people call him Ward.” Valencia explains.

I can’t stop myself from laughing, “Armstrong? The guy you’re threatening her with is Armstrong? That little two-bounce nobody?”

Christine is getting red in the face, “He’ll work his way up eventually.”

My laughing gets louder, and I’m having a hard time catching my breath. Valencia leans against the counter, obviously enjoying what she’s watching. “Tell you what,” I stand, “you threaten her with him again, your little boyfriend is going to be picked up.”

“You don’t threaten me.”

“But I sure as fuck can threaten Armstrong,” I pull out my badge, “wouldn’t even need a reason.”

Christine stops in front of Valencia, “You can have this fucker,” she then disappears into the kitchen.

Valencia lets a small fit of laugh out, “Thank you for that.”

“She shouldn’t have acted like such a bitch,” I sit in front of her again.

“I’m so used to her getting her way,” she grabs me a cup of coffee, “everyone just lets her do that because Ward is friends with the owner here. She’ll threaten our jobs over the dumbest things. It was nice seeing someone being able to pop her balloon.”

“Glad I helped you with something, let me know if she threatens you with him again.”

“Noted,” her eyes slightly crinkle when she smiles, due to her high cheek bones, “were you going to order lunch?”

“You know, I’m actually getting a little tired of the food here. Know any good places for dinner?”

“The Mocambo Club has some pretty good steak,” she peeks at me.

“Do they now?”

Her nail runs across the counter slightly, “Are you asking me to dinner, Roy?”

I smile when she looks up me, “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” She leans forward slightly, her elbows propped up on the counter.

“Maybe seven tonight?”

With a small smirk, she pulls out her note pad. She jots something down, “Maybe that’s my address.”

“Well,” I stand to leave, “maybe I’ll see you tonight.”

“Have a nice day, Roy.” Valencia waves once.

That Night

I shut my car door behind me and walk up the white path up to Valencia’s house. It’s about six fifty-five, so hopefully she’s ready to go. My knock is very light, and after a few moments, her door opens. I’m struck with awe as her eyes look at me.

She’s wearing a deep blue evening gown, sweetheart cut, and it’s almost glued to her body, every curve noticeable. I can’t tell if she’s wearing makeup, outside of her lips which are ruby red. Instead of the bun she wears at work, her wavy hair is down, it’s pretty long. Down to the middle of her back, and some of it comes over her shoulders.

“Ready to go?” She asks, locking her door behind her.

“After you,” I gesture for her to walk in front of me. I’m still taking her beauty in. I open her door for her and shut it. I climb into the driver’s seat. “How was the rest of your shift?”

“Christine was a stupid bitch the rest of the shift,” she rolls her eyes, “she’s just so annoying.”

A laugh slips out, “She’s always like that?”

“Yeah. Other than threatening us with Ward, she spends most of the shift talking about how she’s going to be a model, and she’s going to leave us behind. For about two years, guess who’s modeling? Not that idiot.”

“Who are the other two that work with you?”

“Bea, she’s the red head, and she’s one of my closest friends. She’s taking care of her son alone because her husband died during the war, but she’s still upbeat. She’s the only one that I can talk to there.”

“And the other girl?”

“That’s Lupe. She’s a pretty rude person, though an angel when compared to Christine. Lupe can stay professional, outside of work, we don’t really speak at all. Especially since you started coming in a lot,” she glances at me, “she hates law enforcement. Her brother was deported recently.”

“That’s not my fault,” I look at her at a red light.

“Of course, it’s not,” she smiles, “that’s just the way she is.”

We park the car, and she stops to wait for me. She hooks her arm around mine before we start walking towards the door. When we enter, there’s a small wait for a table. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you,” there’s some blush, “maybe you look good too.”

Before I can answer, I hear some laughs heading this way. Laughs I know, and I hope they don’t notice me. Turning around, facing away from the group exiting. “That you, Roy?” Fucking Sean.

It’s worse than just Sean. Donnie and Colmyer are with him as well, “What are you doing here?” Donnie asks.

Valencia turns around to face them, though she says nothing. “Holy shit, is this the same waitress?” Sean grins, slightly taking a step towards her.

“Is that who you mentioned earlier?” Donnie looks at Colmyer.

“Can you guys leave now?” I cross my arms tightly over my chest.

“C’mon,” Colmyer nods his head towards the door, “we can be assholes later.”

Sean looked her over again, she doesn’t move when he takes another step closer, “The wait time is ten minutes, we can chat for that time.”

“Sean,” Donnie gestures to the door.

He takes yet another step towards her; she is still not moving. Her eyes, though, they’re looking a little off. They kind of look glassy, but not in a tears are coming way. I don’t think anyone else is noticing beside me. “How long have you worked at that diner?” Sean inches a little closer.

“A while.” Valencia’s voice sounds a little off.

“What do you see in our friend?”

“Alright,” I go to intervene.

Before I’m even close enough, Sean reaches his arm out, like he’s trying to touch her. Valencia side steps him, grabs the arm that reached towards her by the elbow and bends his arm inwards. Her other hand pulls the top of the head towards her, “You try to touch me again, and I’ll break the fucking thing, do you understand?” She growls into his ear.

“Jesus Christ, let the fuck go! This shit hurts!” Sean hits the floor as soon as she lets go.

We all stand there, astonished by what just took place in front of us. Even the host stopped walking towards us to watch Valencia do that. There’s small muttering as those three leave, “Are you two ready for your table?”

“Yes,” her tone is back to her normal tone.

The host leads us to a booth in the back of the restaurant, we order our drinks when we sit down. “So… When did you learn to that?”

Valencia looks down, “Sorry if that embarrassed you.”

“Embarrassed me? That was pretty cool, and funny to watch. Sean’s a prick.”

She smiles, “My dad is in the Army, he’s been in it for all my life. He just wanted to make sure that I could defend myself against anyone. No matter which gender.”

I chuckle, “What does your mom think about that.”

She’s quiet for a few beats, “My mom left a week or so after she gave birth to me. I’ve never met her.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s just the way things are, but I’m not upset about it. I wouldn’t want to meet a woman who would just abandon her child,” she shakes her head, “let’s talk about something else.”

Our waitress sets our drinks down, “What’s in that girly drink of yours?” I joke, trying to get away from that conversation. If she doesn’t want to have it, then we won’t.

Valencia giggles slightly, “Uh, orange juice, lemon juice, Scotch Whiskey, honey and Angostura bitters. I can drink Scotch on its own, just like you.”

“Without all the bells and whistles?”

She grabs my glass of Scotch and downs the entire thing. “Without all the bells and whistles.”

My eyes look down at my now empty glass, leaving behind just the ice, “You’re something else, Valencia. In a good way.”

She reaches towards my hand, and I grab it, “So are you, Roy.”

The rest of the night goes really well, being able to see her real personality outside of work. Nothing like I thought she was, and I’m glad she’s different. She’s not fragile, she can handle herself and her personality is distinct, more than ninety-nine percent of the broads I’ve met. She beautiful, smart, and funny. What more is there to ask for?

Chapter Text

I stare at the unused chalk board in one of the rooms upstairs in Central Station. Donnelly told Rusty and I to get here bright and early. Colmyer asked the same of Cole and Roy, but those five aren’t even here yet. I know this is about the two crime scenes that look eerily similar. Two dead people, two punctures and two pitilessly slaughtered. Whoever is doing this knows what they’re doing. Pinker and Mal couldn’t find anything either.

Of course, Roy is the first one here. He and I haven’t really spoken outside of work. I’m trying to bury myself in my work, because that’s a conversation that I don’t know how to have. “Morning, Ence.” He sits on the table in front of me.

“Good morning,” I glance up at him.

“How are you?”

“Fine, you?”

“Just fine…”

I stand up to be level with him, “Something’s up, isn’t there?”

He leans to look out the door, “When are you going to stop hiding from me?”

“I’m not hiding from you.”

“Yeah, you are,” he crosses his arms, “you and I have a lot of private things to talk about, but it seems you’re never going home. You keep saying to keep things professional, however, you won’t find a time out of work to talk to me.”

Sighing, “I know… I’m just…”

“Just…?”

I glance at the door again, “I just don’t know how to engage in that conversation.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know what I did was cowardly and really impersonal. The reason I did it that way is because I just couldn’t face you. I couldn’t look at the pain I was going to cause you,” I try to blink the tears away. Even after leaving him, I never lost any love for him.

Roy scoots closer to the edge of the table, “Why did you leave?”

Trying to keep my composure, “Everything around me was just pulling me into so many directions. I needed to get away from here,” my throat tightens, “not necessarily you. I didn’t want to uproot you. I didn’t even talk to my dad for that year. I’ve only been back for a few months.”

He hooks his pinky around one of mine, making sure it wouldn’t be visible, “I would’ve gone with you.”

Someone clears their throat from the door, making Roy jump up and I take a few steps back. Thank God, it’s only James. “I was wondering if you two talked or not,” he sets his coffee on the table.

“Not really,” I clear my throat.

“The others will be up in a minute, so I suggest you both sit at the front two tables, Vice here, and homicide here,” he gestures to the tables.

The room is pretty silent between the three of us, Colmyer joins the room next. He takes a look at both of us, “So, you two together again?”

“Shh,” James shoots his eyes at him, “people who don’t know, and will not know are coming up.”

Colmyer nods once, “Understood.”

Cole, Rusty, Pinker and Mal all join the room. Everyone is sitting, except Colmyer and James, who stand at the front of the room. “Now, then,” James shuts the door, “have you guys found anything?”

I shake my head, going over the notes I have, “Nothing. I even put up fliers, to see if someone could tell us who the vics were.”

“Mal and I went over all four bodies and both crime scenes with a fine-tooth comb, nothing.” Pinker rubs the back of his neck.

“Roy and I have been going around known dealers. None of them could identify any of them,” Cole clears his throat. We’re all uncomfortable right now.

“We’re still at square one?” Colmyer raises an eyebrow at us.

“There is no square one,” Rusty drops his note pad on the table, “there’s no evidence. I’m sure Mal and Pinker would’ve found something if there was something to be found.”

“Like Pinker said, we looked. They completely removed their fingernails. I’ve seen people clip fingernails off the top, but the entire nail was torn from the skin. The laundry tags are always ripped off, one death simple and the other death… not so much.” Mal is looking at his own notes.

“The only real ties are the deaths,” Roy leans back in his chair, “two go to sleep, and two are brutally killed. Other than that, we have nothing.”

“This is not good, lads,” James starts pacing slowly.

Colmyer nods, “I don’t know how any of this is slipping out, but it is. We’ve already got people comparing it to The Black Dahlia. We don’t need all these rumors again.”

“Do they have evidence that we don’t have?” Roy asks.

“Then we go to the people who print the papers and find out how they found evidence that we didn’t see,” Rusty grumbles.

My mind is a little far off right now, some of the words starting to be mumbles in the back of my head. Colmyer’s and James’ slight insults are more audible. “Can I ask something, James?” I cross my arms.

“Yes, Val?”

“Okay, so I’m going to explain what we have real quick and what we’ve done. We’ve put up posters to try to identify all four vics, no one has come forward. There’s little to no evidence through the crime scenes, no evidence from the bodies. There’s the small tie in the manner of deaths, but that’s it.”

“And?” Colmyer looks at me.

I sit up, “What would you and James do? What’s your next step? Can you explain that to us because we’re a little stuck?”

The group getting bashed is now able to look down at the two doing the bashing. We all look at the both of them, who glance towards each other. They’re muttering something that we can’t hear, probably because they wouldn’t know what to do next either.

“And?” We all mock at the same time.

The two of them clear their throats, “I still want any update that comes in, right when it comes in,” James has his hands behind his back.

“Dismissed,” Colmyer mutters, the two of them leaving the room.

“The sass you have, Clark, I swear to God,” Rusty chuckles.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen those two dismiss themselves,” Pinker leans on our table with his hand.

“Well, at least that will shut them up for now,” Mal pats my shoulder once, “now we can focus on our work, Pinker. Thanks, Val.”

Cole and Roy walk over to our table, “Wish they’d let me get away with talking to them that way,” Cole mutters.

“Do I hear Roy offering to pay for breakfast again?” Rusty cups his hand around his ear, leaning towards Roy.

“No, I think your hearing is already going, Galloway.” Roy smirks.

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Rusty puts his fist out.

I stand from the table, “I got it this time, where are we going?”

“Good question,” Cole starts heading towards the stairs.

“I don’t want diner food,” I mutter.

Roy walks beside me down the stairs, “Hospitality makes it taste better.”

Fighting the smile away from my face, “What the fuck does that mean?” Rusty looks back at him.

“When servers are assholes, doesn’t that spoil the meal just a little bit?”

“I guess so, you worded it wrong.”

As Roy goes to retort, we’re cut off at the end of the stairs. Colmyer looks at Cole and Roy, “Just got a call, four junkies found dead by morphine, One-Two-Four-Three West Yucca Street.”

“Of course,” Cole rolls his eyes when Colmyer walks away, “rain check that breakfast, I guess.”

We’re all still heading to the parking lot, but then we break off there. I grab my note pad, and I write a note to Roy. Telling him to come by at seven tonight. I can’t dodge this anymore; it’s emotionally draining me. Roy and Cole stop to look at us, “In solidarity, you two shouldn’t eat breakfast either,” Roy grins.

“Take that solidarity and shove it up your asses,” Rusty opens his car door.

When Cole turns away, I’m able to slip Roy the note without either of them seeing it. “What Rusty said, I’m starving.”

He glances over the note, and he looks over at me. I’m standing next to my door, looking back at him over the roof of the car. Tucking it away, he gives me a nod. “Greedy motherfuckers,” Roy mutters, slipping into his car.

That Night

It’s just about seven, I’m sitting at my island counter in my long black silk robe. I don’t know where this conversation is going to go, but I can’t hide forever.

There’s a small knock on my door, and I look through the peephole just to be safe. I open the door, “Did you and Cole have fun?”

“Oh, tons,” he looks around the room, “turned out that it was just heroin, not morphine.”

“Syrettes were found?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t in any of their systems.”

I lead him towards the kitchen, and I already have Scotch on the table. He sits across from me, grabbing his glass. I take a swig of mine, “I know I keep saying it, but I’m sorry for all of it.”

Roy sets his glass down, “It was your dad, wasn’t it?”

I look away, “How’d you know?”

“Because he’s never liked me, Ence. Everything was fine, until we kept getting closer and closer towards the wedding. Then he became a fucking prick.”

“I didn’t realize how much he amplified the little things,” I swish my drink around, “that’s why I didn’t talk to him while I was in Sacramento.”

“What little things?”

“You were kind of changing, your personality. You always seemed… bothered with me for the last few months.”

“You mean the last few months that your dad was breathing down both of our necks? You don’t understand why I was always irritated when he would show up when ever the fuck he wanted. Even if it was my house.”

My eyes are focused on the table, “I’m such stupid person… I should’ve realized that…”

“No, you’re not,” Roy walks over to me, “the reason he hates me is because I was someone else in your life. There’s something seriously wrong with your dad, Ence and I called him out on his shit every time he started it.”

“He’s just protective.”

“Ence,” he pulls me to look at him, “you have nightmares from the shit he pulled. He was throwing you in the deep side of your pool for you to ‘learn how to swim’ when you were three. Or, how about teaching you ‘how to spar’ when you were thirteen, no gloves, even though you didn’t know how protect yourself.”

I sit there in silence because I don’t know what to say. The more I think about it, the more blatant it all becomes. I know my dad is a little… off, but I didn’t really notice until Roy. The longer we were together, the more his dislike of Roy became more and more apparent. My dad and I have really grown apart from each other, especially as I get older.

“Ence?”

Pulling away from him to walk into the living room, sitting down on the couch. I pull my knees up to my chest, “I never really thought about it that way.”

Roy sits next to me, “Remember the first birthday we shared together? How I planned something for us, the day after your birthday, and he still threw a fit about it?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“That’s when he started treating me like garbage,” he pushes my knees down, “I don’t know what it is, but Lawrence has something wrong in his head. He doesn’t want anyone to take your attention from him.”

I wipe some of the tears away, “James said something like that a few days ago.”

“Why?”

“We got into a fight a couple of weeks ago, we haven’t talked since, but I guess he was hounding James about me. What was I doing, where was I going, was I doing this, was I doing that? James didn’t like that.”

“What was the fight over?”

“He’s an alcoholic and says really, really fucked things about me and to me.”

Roy wraps his arms around me, pulling me until I am against his chest. A few tears stream down my face, I noticed the odd behavior the older I got. When I turned eighteen, I moved out because I needed space. Got a job at Sunrise and lived on my own. I wasn’t allowed to date while I was under the age of eighteen, which makes Roy the only man I’ve ever been with. Things seemed to start cracking faster when he came into my life.

He tucks my hair behind one of my ears, Roy might be a Grade-A asshole, but he’s never acted that way towards me. Probably because he knows that I can and would kick his ass if he tried anything hurtful towards me. “Where’d all the pictures go?”

Being brought back from my thoughts, I reach over the arm of the couch, grabbing a black box. “They’re in here,” I remove the lid, photos and other little trinkets fill the box.

He picks up a very dead rose, encased inside of plastic. “What’s this?”

I can’t help, but smile, “It’s from the first bouquet you ever bought me.”

I watch as he picks up the little things, ignoring the pictures. A movie ticket stub, four different birthday cards, also four different Valentine’s Day cards, I got two different cards each year. I was born on Valentine’s day; Roy is the only person who separated the two. Pretty much anything he gave me was in the box. Minus the bigger stuff, like clothes.

My hands start grabbing the pictures, we had quite a bit of photos. Which I hung all over my house, something else that bothered dad. I fought him on that, he wanted them limited and I basically said, “Fuck you.” I wasn’t taking any of them down.

Roy keeps looking at the smaller items, “You kept all of this?”

“Well, yeah,” I grab the dead rose, “first things. No matter what it was. It meant something to me. Anything we did meant something to me.”

Gently grabbing everything from me, he put them all back in the box. When I lean forward to pick it up, Roy pulls my face towards his. I missed how it felt when he kissed me or held me. He pulls me back until my head is on his chest, laying down on the couch. I focus on listening to his heartbeat, he knows when I’m upset to the point of not wanting to talk. He knows me better than I know myself.

Chapter Text

I wake up to a loud pounding at my door, jumping up from the couch. I motion for Roy to go back into my bedroom, a door I always have shut. Fixing my robe, I open the door and Rusty was going to kick my door open, but his leg went nowhere near my door. Helping him up, “Are you okay?”

Rusty dusts himself off, “We’ve been trying to call you all morning.”

“You did?” I start walking towards my phone, “I didn’t hear it ring at all.”

Looking the cord over, “I think you need to get a new one, Clark. This one is shot.”

“That’s just lovely,” I mutter, “find another set?”

“No, thank God, I don’t need more of that to be bitched at about. There was a body was found inside a dumpster, I got the call and when you didn’t show up…” Rusty trails off.

“Aww, were you worried about me, Bar?”

“I never said that,” he crosses his arms.

Giving a small snicker, “Sure you didn’t. Did another team get assigned to it?”

“No, but I went through the scene, and we have some leads to follow up on.”

“Tell you what,” I gesture towards the door, “I’ll meet you at Ray’s Café, and we’ll get a bite to eat. My treat. Just give me enough time to shower.”

Rusty kind of looks around the living room again, “Alright, don’t take forever, Clark. I know how women are with their makeup,” he jokes over his shoulder.

Forcing a laugh, I shut and lock the door. Roy comes into the living room, “What’d Rusty want?”

“They’ve been trying to call me all morning,” I rub my eyes, “coincidence or not, my phone is broken.”

“They didn’t find another set of bodies, right?”

“No, some stiff was found in a dumpster. Rusty went through the scene, so now I have to get ready for work, so I can meet him at Ray’s Café.”

“Why?”

“Because I offered to buy him food, so he’d go away long enough for you to slip out before someone else from work shows up.”

Roy looks at me for a moment, “You don’t want them to know?”

I sigh as I walk towards my bedroom, “It’s not that, Roy, I promise.”

“Then what is it?” I don’t answer, I’m trying to find the best way to explain it. “Ence.”

“Because,” I pull my clothes out of the closet, “Your name is settled, you’ve proven yourself and no one looks down at you. My name isn’t anything yet.”

“That doesn’t make any God damn sense, and you fucking know it.”

“Roy,” I slam my dresser shut, “I have enough fucking people thinking that the only reason I’m here in the first place is because James brought me on, or that I provided him some service that I’m not going to repeat. I don’t need more shit because it’ll get twisted that now I’m able to stay is because I’m in a relationship with you. I just want my name to carry the same water as anyone else’s.”

Roy follows me into the restroom, “I think you’ve proven yourself to Rusty.”

“That may be, but that’s one person. One person doesn’t sway the opinions of the rest of the force. I just want to show that I’m in the LAPD for a reason, that I belong here because I’m great at it.”

“Who gives a shit about the rest of them? Rusty, Donnelly, Bekowsky, Cole and I would silence anyone who said different.”

“That’s what I’m talking about, Roy. Having men fight my battles,” I turn the shower knob, “then I’m some dame in distress and I can’t fight my own confrontations.”

“So, this has to be under the radar to everyone? Including our own partners?”

“I just want some time to show myself,” I gesture for him to leave the room.

Roy kind of laughs, “Nothing I haven’t seen before, Ence.”

I sigh, “Don’t you think you should head home? What if Cole’s trying to get ahold of you?”

With a glance at his watch, “Point taken, but this conversation isn’t over, Ence.” I follow him out the living room so I can chain the door shut behind him. Before he leaves, he turns around and places his hands on the sides of my face and pulls me to him.

I don’t pull away, and his hands glide down my sides, stopping on my hips. My arms wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to me.

Rusty’s POV

I look at my watch again, it’s almost been an hour that I talked to Clark, and she isn’t here yet. She seemed a little off when I stopped by this morning, but I think I woke her up. Cole has been making some comments that I don’t appreciate. Clark might throw him off the balcony the next time she’s down at Hollywood Station.

Clark finally sweeps into the restaurant, hurrying over to the table. Slipping in, “Sorry about that, taxis seem to milk you as much as they can when the traffic is awful.”

“Yeah, they do. Everything okay, though?” I ask as she scans over the menu.

“Of course,” she looks at me briefly, “why do you ask?”

I let the waiter stop by, us placing our drink and food order. As soon as he walks away, “I need to tell you something, but I need you to promise that you won’t kill anyone or let them know I told you this. But you are my partner and I’d want you to tell me if someone was saying stupid shit about me.”

Clark crosses her arms, “Alright.”

“Cole has said some really stupid comments about how you get away with everything, and that you’re not being held at the same height as us. That you were special, and James just lets you do whatever you want.”

She nearly chokes on her water, “What the fuck is he talking about? Who’s he talking to?”

“Bekowsky and myself. We’re both smart enough to know that he’s full of shit. He’s been a little gossip as of late.”

“Gossip? I knew I didn’t like that little fuck for a reason, with his wannabe, sanctimonious bullshit. I think he’s just mad that he’s not in the spotlight, and that I’m slowly slipping into it. Fuck Cole.”

Clark doesn’t really talk trash about people, she’s very upfront about the way she thinks or feels on something. “You promised not to say anything, right?”

She nods, “I won’t throw you under the bus, and I’m sure Cole would figure out it was you who told me. Everything’s fine, okay?”

“Okay.”

Valencia’s POV

Rusty and I walk towards an old, abandoned building. It’s made purely from just wood, which is now splintering and warping due to it not being taken care of, or maybe just unsuitable for anyone to be near. It seems misplaced, since there are other buildings surrounding this area, and they are all nice looking. Definitely being taken care of.

We had gotten a call through KGPL, message saying that the case we were just working on got passed to another set, and that we had to go out to this crime scene immediately. I found it odd that there was no explanation as to why we had to drop that case. The call was for a body being found in the trunk of a car, no different than the body that was found inside of the dumpster.

“Hey, guys,” Stefan waves, “how’ve you been?”

“Peachy,” Rusty growls, walking towards the car.

“Don’t take that personally,” I look at him, “he’s upset that we had to pass on a case that was almost finished to begin with. I’m doing fine, though, how about you?”

“Day was going pretty well, until now, anyway.” He starts leading me to the car.

I look at the body, some parts of it showing signs of decaying. The body is bloating, an orangish foam coming from the mouth and nose, so it’s been here for a few days, give or take. All and all, it shows normal decomposition, as everyone goes through, no matter the death. As I lean in, trying not to gag on the smell of dead tissue, coagulated, bloody foam and the excretion.

“Shit…” I mutter as I see the puncture wound on the left side of his neck.

Rusty comes over, I’m still pointing to where the puncture was, “God damn it.”

I glance around, noticing another abandoned car in the same lot. “Did you guys need to check that other car, Stefan?”

Stefan shakes his head, “No, this one was reported stolen a few weeks ago. Not sure what that other car is doing here, either.”

“…Open the trunk on that one.”

“Why?”

“Just fucking do it, Bekowsky.” Rusty snaps at him.

The three of us walk over to the other car, which is unlocked. We pop the trunk and we all gag and start heaving as soon as the trunk was completely open. Trying to regain my own composure, I go back to look with my scarf covering my nose and mouth. They literally cracked open the vic, his ribs split open like they would be during an autopsy. The internal skin part of the body being shown. All organs that you would normally find in the torso area was gone. Some garbage had been forced in, closer to where his neck is.

There’s quite a bit of superficial damage done to the rest of the body. A trail of cigarette burns up and down their arms, little chunks of skin missing. I try to get a look at his legs, only to find the ligaments in his knees have also been removed. I’m fairly sure that all the little things on the body was done while he was still alive.

I shut the trunk, “Call Cole Phelps and Roy Earle from Vice, please.” I ask a patrol man; he nods and walks away.

“Why do we need to do that?” Stefan looks at the car, “there’s no drug use.”

“Vic one has a puncture to the right side of their neck,” Rusty lights a cigarette, “probably heroin or morphine. Either way, Vice needs to come down here.”

The three of us walk away from both cars, to wait for them and to get out of the smell range. Rusty and I are trying to hold ourselves together, professionally. We have both been instructed by James to not mention any of this to ANYONE else. However, we are both sick of this shit, not getting even smallest bit of evidence. Maybe Mal and Pinker can find something, no matter how small. Trying to get James and Colmyer away from breathing down the back of our six collective necks.

Roy and Cole pull up, and they both seem mad themselves. They stomp over to us, shooting Stefan a look. James told Rusty and I to stay quiet, Colmyer said the same thing to the both of them as well. “What do we have?” Roy mutters under his breath, trying to keep his anger of this in check as well.

With nothing more, we lead the two of them to the separate cars. Cole opens the trunk to victim one, immediately looking straight at their neck, “Great, just fucking great.” Cole snaps.

Roy looks at me, “There’s another body in the other trunk, isn’t there?”

I nod once, “You two go check it out, the three of us almost lost our lunch once.”

Rusty crosses his arms as we watch the two of them walk over to the other vehicle. The trunk opens, Roy and Cole doing the same thing we did when we first opened it. “Motherfucker!” Roy yells, slamming the trunk close.

Giving Stefan a look, “We need to talk to them about this, homicide cases, you know?”

“Of course,” he says, walking over to the other patrol men.

As soon as Roy sees Stefan out of sight, “We just came from another crime scene, two fucking victims again. Same shit as before.”

“The only difference being that ours were a set of women. All the others are men,” Cole makes a few motions with his hands.

“Great, now we can’t even lean on them going specifically for males, now.” Rusty looks over at the other car.

Mal and Pinker starts walking towards us, “Please tell me you guys didn’t find another set.” Mal looks between the two cars.

“We did,” I mumble.

Pinker lets out a loud sigh, “God damn it, just God damn it.”

“We’re so fucked,” I look between Pinker and Mal.

Everyone else looks where I look, getting the same feeling as I did. James and Colmyer are walking over to us, knowing about the set that Roy and Cole found. Here we are again, four bodies, two crime scenes and no evidence, nothing. We have literally nothing.

Chapter Text

As soon as I enter the briefing room, I already know everything is about to go to shit. Four desks are lined up in front of the room and there are enough seats for everyone, plus one, for some reason. Slinking down into a seat one away from the wall, waiting for everyone else to show up to this shit show.

Just like last time, Roy is the second one here. He sits on the desk next to me, “This looks like we’re going to all have a grand time of being told how we’re idiots and bad Detectives.”

“I’ll call James and Colmyer out again, don’t test me.”

Letting out a small chuckle, “Leary will be here too.”

“Why would he need to be here?”

“Because,” he sits down next to me, “Stefan was unlucky enough to get that car. Now, Traffic is a part of this. Probably so those three can shift blame back and forth.”

I place my forehead on the table, “This is such horseshit.”

“We’re in the same thought, Clark,” Rusty takes the chair on my right, last chair in the line.

“Me too,” Cole is the next one in, taking the spot directly next to Roy.

“What’s going on?” Stefan asks, looking down the row of tables. He takes the next seat next to Cole.

“Welcome to the Titanic, Stefan. Maybe you could be one of the violin players.” I mock.

Rusty laughs, “Here, I thought Roy was the most cynical person in the room. She’s giving you a run for your money, Roy.”

Pinker and Mal come in next, “Oh, this looks fantastic. Totally not going to turn into a bunch of crap.” Pinker takes the spot by Stefan, Mal on his other side.

I lift my head up and look down the row of people in the room. “One of us should sneak out and start a fire. Then we’ll have all four desks in one room.”

The room laughs, cutting it as soon as James, Colmyer and Leary enter the room. Looking down and biting our lips. They don’t ask about the laughter as they look at us. “Eight bodies, lads,” James begins, “eight.”

All of us kind of glance at each other, waiting for someone to answer him. “We have a newish angle, though,” I clear my throat, “The last pair were women. I fully believe all of this was wrong place and wrong time for the vics.”

“What makes you say that?” Colmyer looks at me next.

I start skimming through my note pad, “It seems there isn’t rhyme or reason. We have two women, but the men are all of mixed race as well. There’s no clear pattern outside of the deaths themselves. All four crime scenes were nowhere near each other.”

“I noticed that too,” Cole is flipping through his note pad, “I tried to connect the areas, but there’s no link between the crime scenes.”

“There’s not even the same time, or the same stage of decomposition,” Mal looks at the three in front of us, “the crime scene Clark and Rusty went over recently, those two bodies were way too decomposed compared to the other six.”

“Women were maintained at the scene Cole and I went through,” Roy leans back, “they seemed… cleaner and the other one who didn’t get the morphine, their death wasn’t extreme either. The others were tore up, dissected and graphic. Now, I’m not saying that, that getting a hole drilled into your head isn’t extreme, but that’s it.”

I pull Roy’s note pad on the table in front of me, “Trepanation,” I read quickly, “they didn’t do it in the way they would do medically, right, Mal? They didn’t do that that close to the spine.”

“No, it was usually in the front, or even the tops of the skulls. I don’t know how that would’ve been a good idea to do it there.”

“So, at least we can say that they’re idiots with no medical background.” Rusty looks down the line.

“We’re all caught up now?” Colmyer asks.

“As much as a something with no evidence.”

The two Captains and Lieutenant discuss something as they’re kind of huddled together. We all just sit there, quietly, to see if we can hear what they’re saying. James clears his throat, “I need more than this, we’ve got bloodhounds outside of stations again.”

“This is all we have,” Cole is still looking at his note pad.

“We need more!” Colmyer spits at Cole.

Rusty crosses his arms, “We have what we have. There’s nothing else being left behind.”

“You all better come up with something,” James says, “or your tails will be in the fire.”

“What are you going to do? Lock us in here?”

With a few small glances back and forth, the three in front of us leave the room. We hear the lock click. “You just had to say something, didn’t you, Bar?” I side eye him.

“I thought I was calling their bluff.”

“I don’t even know what in the fuck is going on here,” Stefan stands from his chair.

The room goes quiet again, “Alright,” Cole goes to the front of the room, “I think we should start out with comparing all of our notes. See if we’re seeing things we didn’t see before.”

I jokingly raise my hand, Cole looks at me, “Not to be a bitch or anything, but your first step is wrong.”

“How is it wrong?”

“Because if you look down the line, we have someone in this room, no notes and has no idea what we’re talking about.”

“That’s me,” Stefan sits down again.

“Then what do you suppose we do, Clark?”

I slip over the desk in front of me, faster than having to walk all the way around. I push some things from in front of the bare chalkboard at the front of the room, “I suggest we lay out a timeline of each crime scene to help Stefan.”

“I vote for Clark’s idea,” Rusty mocks, throwing his hand up.

Cole crosses his arms like a child, “Take it away, then, Val.”

Picking up a piece of chalk, I draw a line across the entire chalkboard, “Alright, so the first scene we went to, now being referred to scene one, we found two males, vic A and vic B. Vic A was Hispanic and vic B was Caucasian. Vic A had the puncture, while vic B was nearly decapitated.”

Stefan blinks at me, “Decapitated?”

“Get used to the brutality, Bekowsky,” Pinker mutters.

“Few weeks after scene one, all four of us were called to scene two, vic C and Vic D were also males, both vics were black. Vic C got the puncture, Vic D… what was the cause of death, Mal?”

Mal flips through his notes, “There was a bunch of superficial bruises and such, but he had been strangled so hard that his throat became mushy at the brutality of the strength.”

With a nod, I start the next marking, “It’s debatable who was at which scene first, but we’ll use ours. Everything was a little laxer, as we went through two months of no other sets. Scene three, both men were Caucasian. Vic E had the puncture, vic F was pretty much cracked open like a walnut. No organs were in his torso, but there was old newspaper, or something stuffed into where his neck was.”

Pinker clears his throat, “Which ever way it was shoved in, Mal and I found more inside the vic’s neck.”

“Scene four,” I look at Cole.

Roy looks a Cole for a moment, before sighing loudly, “You’re such a child sometimes, I swear…” He slips over the desk.

“Child?”

“Yes, Child- “

“Knock it off,” I snap at both of them, “we have shit to do.”

Clearing his throat, “Scene Four, which was around the same time as scene three, Vic G was a Hispanic woman, vic H was a Caucasian woman. They’re the only female vics we have, vic G got the puncture, and vic H had all the superficial wounds, cause of death is a drill into the skull.”

Mal walks up next, “The women weren’t as brutalized and we’re clean, to a degree. All the vics had bruising on their knuckles, maybe defending themselves?”

I hold the chalk in my hand, “Did you guys look over the final two vics?”

“Yeah,” Pinker holds his note pad out to me.

My eyes scan over his notes, the rest trying to find a connection through their own words. Stefan is slightly doing both, mostly reading the chalkboard a few times. I get to the page, “Clean ring?”

“Vic H was wearing a very distinctive ring. A bronze Kornerupine and diamond ring. Vic H had the same bruising on her fists, but the ring was clean.”

“Not only that,” Mal sits on the desk, “Vic G’s face was completely covered in blood, but she got a puncture.”

I glance back and forth through both of their note pads, trying to get more info on the Jane Does. People start pointing out what they initially missed, but another one of us didn’t. Why would the ring be clean? Vic H had blood all over her. Why does vic G’s face have blood all over it?

I glance up for a moment, everyone is talking to each other. Focusing on not hearing what they’re saying, I keep digging through the note pads in my hands. All vics had bruised and bloody knuckles, including the puncture ones. What were they fighting about? What were they fighting fo… For. They were fighting each other for the lesser sentence. They were fighting for a quiet euthanasia, rather than the grisly death.

“Valencia?” Roy’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.

“What’d you find?” Pinker slips down the desk a bit, until he’s next to me.

Everyone was looking at me now, “Are the Jane Does still on slabs downstairs?”

“Course,” Mal stands, “why?”

“Is there a way to get all the blood off of G’s face?”

“Yes, we can, but why?”

“I have an idea,” I knock on the door.

The door opens, James looks down at me, “Yes, Val?”

Slipping passed them, “We need to go examine the Jane Does downstairs.”

Rusty kind of pushes his way to walk next to me, “You got something?”

“I’ll explain more if I happen to be right.”

I can hear everyone’s footsteps behind me, I really hope that I’m right so they’ll shut up and that we can finally start the process of getting the vics justice. When we do get downstairs, this small mass of us wait until Mal and Pinker get her face clean.

Looking down at vic G’s face, I can see it. I can see the imprint from vic H’s ring imbedded into the left top of her cheek bone. Pinker brings the ring over and holds it next to the imprint, “That’s vic H’s ring, vic H had to punch vic G.”

James looks at me, “What does that mean, Val?”

“It might sound crazy, but I think these eight were involved in snuff fights.”

“Snuff fights?” Rusty asks.

“In normal fights, we fight to win, a trophy or money. Something. Snuff fighting means they fought each other to get the one jab into their necks, rather than being bare minimum tortured to death. That explains the bruising and the two consistent ways of death make more sense in that regard.”

“Jesus Christ…” Colmyer says under his breath.

I can’t help but look closer at vic G, trying to get the other patches of blood off her face so I can see her. My heart stops for a moment, “I know her.”

“You do?”

Closing my eyes, “I know her from somewhere. I know I’ve met her before, but I can’t place where.”

“C’mon, Clark,” Rusty places his hand on my left shoulder.

Little flashes go in and out as I try to figure out where I met her at. I look up, “I met her when I modeled for D’Assine’s a few years back. I remember she was quite rude to me.”

“You modeled, Val?” Stefan quips.

Rolling my eyes, “Once, I was doing a favor for Celia Stanley, the owner. She and I are friends, so I helped her out. Maybe she would remember what her name was.”

“Are you completely sure?” James walks over to me.

“Yeah,” I look up at him, “I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but she was an extremely insolent person. Gave me a bunch of shit because ‘I wasn’t an actual model’, but Celia gave me a longer time slot.”

“And why was that?” Cole asks.

“I don’t know, but that’s not my fucking point,” I growl, “Rusty and I are going to head over there to find out if she remembers her name. We’ll at least have one name.”

“God speed, both of you,” James points towards the door, “Give me something to feed the vultures.”

We don’t waste time to get out of the room, Cole stands next to Roy as the room empties. “Can’t believe she modeled before.”

Roy shoots him a look, “Why do you think that?”

“She just doesn’t seem the type.”

“Seem the type?”

“Yeah,” he shifts on his heels, “seems too…”

“Too?”

“Too serious to do something like that.”

Roy looks towards the door, “You check out other women a lot, Cole?”

Cole’s eyebrows dip, “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that you’re being a prick. She is the right type for that.”

“How?”

“Men don’t take personalities or smarts when they’re looking at an attractive woman, they’re more focused on the physical assets.”

“Suppose you’re right.”

Roy shakes his head as he starts walking towards the door, “Let’s keep going over notes upstairs until she and Rusty get back. It’d be nice to find another string to these murders.”

Chapter Text

Five Years Ago

Roy’s POV

As I usually do during my lunch break, I walk into the diner where Ence works at. She and I have been dating for a few months at this point, and everything has been perfect. She’s behind the counter, “Hey, dove,” she smiles at me.

I place my lips against hers, “How’s work? Seems slow today.”

“It is, but-“

Christine comes from the two doors leading into the kitchen, her eyes immediately catching me. She seems mad as she violently grabs a tray full of silverware, slamming them down on empty tables. “The fuck is her problem today?”

“Well,” she’s still looking in that direction, “Celia came in this morning.”

“Who’s that?”

“She owns D’Assine’s, it’s a new dress shop she’s opened up. She and I have been friends for a while. She needed my help,” a smile slowly forms.

“With what?”

“So, in front of Christine, she asked if I could step in for a model who dropped out at last minute. Course, Christine tries to interject herself into our conversation, talking about how she’s been trying to break into the modeling world. Celia tells her that she appreciates the offer, but she only needed one model.”

I lean forward slightly, “She told her no, right?”

Ence has this smug smile on her face, “Not only did she tell her no, Christine pushed as to why she was picking me over her. Celia, still trying to be polite, said that she needed my body type and not her body type. Christine pushes it for a few more minutes,” her eyes shoot in Christine's direction, “Celia finally broke and told her that she had plenty of models that look like Christina.”

Kind of enjoying the smugness and slightly malevolent body language she’s giving off, “How’d Tina over there take it?”

“Christine demands to know what she means like that, and Celia tells her, point blank, that she needs a curvy woman to model the two or three dresses. That I’m curvy, and Christine is not.”

While I know Celia is correct with how Ence looks, I kind of feel a twinge of jealousy at the thought of Ence modeling. Just bunch of guys being able to just stand there and gawk at her doesn’t sit right with me, but I push it away. “So, when’s that happening?”

“Tomorrow,” she stands up straight, “Bea is covering my shift for tomorrow, since I’ll be at D’Assine’s for most of the day.”

“Are we still going to dinner tomorrow?”

“Of course,” she grabs my hand, “It ends an hour or two before our dinner plans.”

Once again, Christine stomps back through the doors into the kitchen. “She’s not taking that very well,” I laugh.

“She’s a fucking baby.”

“Gotta keep your professionalism, right?”

Ence bites the corner of her lip, “She’s being rather immature.”

Standing up, the hour I have for lunch is becoming short. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay,” She gives me one more kiss before I leave.

D’Assine’s

I’m heading over to D’Assine’s to pick Ence up after she’s done with all the modeling stuff. Still leery about the entire thing, but I know how excited she is about it. If she’s happy to do that, I can keep my mouth shut. Our reservations are in about an hour, I was going to stop by earlier, but I couldn’t shake the three idiots I call my friends. No way I was letting Sean anywhere near her.

I park my car, she should be right about done with it. The building is kind of packed, people looking at the models and dresses were also being bought. Ence mentioned how Celia wasn’t getting enough people, so the sale she put in, plus the models, she hoped that it’d help her store stay afloat. It’s still a rather new store in the area, so Ence is helping her out.

It looks like there are more models around the corner, trying to politely push my way in. There were three models off to the left, the ones that Celia had described. However, there was a crowed around the center of the room. Once I’m close enough, my jaw might as well have dropped.

Celia had professionals do their hair and their makeup. Ence’s raven hair was down, though feathered to give it more volume. The makeup done looked more natural on her, but the other three models had bright colors. The dress she’s wearing, a deep navy-blue V-neck bandage bodycon dress. It looks like they sewed the dress on her, the slit going upwards to show her upper tights.

I can hear some of the lewd comments they’re making towards her, or about her. It’s starting to piss me off, to be honest. It’s like these guys have no lives, trying to show off their money, or trying to talk her into going to dinner. Though, Ence doesn’t look like she’s listening to them. Maybe she can’t hear them, but I sure can.

Celia makes her way over to Ence, “You’re done, sweetie, I really appreciate your help.”

“Of course, Celia.” Ence smiles down at her.

The cluster of men got louder about their offers to her, like she’s something to be bought. Like she’s been up there as an advertisement. She politely puts her hands out in front of her, trying to clear the way down the small set of stairs. The moment she steps down, she sees me. Her eyes light up, her pushing them away trying to get to me.

She throws her arms around my neck, “I was wondering where you were.” She’s in heels, so she doesn’t have to pull me far to kiss me.

Still looking at the other men, now shooting me dirty looks as they disperse. “Sorry, I couldn’t shake those idiots.”

“We can go after I change out of this dress,” she turns to walk away, but I grab her hand.

I pull her over to Celia, “How much is this dress?”

 “Roy?”

Celia looks at the tag, “This is usually one hundred ten, but for Valencia, I’m willing to sell it for eighty.”

“Roy, you don’t have- “

I place my lips against hers again, “I know I don’t, but I want to.”

Blush rushes up to her cheeks, “Okay.”

I pay for her dress, and I wrap my arm around her waist. The heels she was wearing were hers. “Have a nice night, Celia.”

“You two as well,” she smiles at us.

As we walked towards the car, she looks over at me, “How come you bought the dress?”

Opening her door for her, “Because, you look happy and beautiful in it, sweetlips.”

When I get in the car with her, she kisses my cheek gently. “Where are we going for dinner?”

“Blue room.”

“Sounds fun. How was work?”

“Donnie and Sean are still acting like an old married couple. Sometimes it’s funny, other times it’s just really fucking annoying. Other times meaning, ninety percent of the time.”

She giggles, “I can put Sean in his place again.”

I shake my head, “He still whines about that from time to time.”

“Shouldn’t have tried to touch me. Brought that upon himself.”

I pull up into a parking spot, Ence walks around over to me. Usually she wraps her arm around mine, but she has her arms around my torso. I place my hand on her lower back, the door is opened for us. We get to our table, directly in front of each other. Our drinks are delivered, “Still have to watch my scotch around you.”

“At least you learned,” she winks, sipping from the drink she ordered.

Dinner goes well as usual, we never run out of anything to talk about. The music playing right now, a new woman singing, and I hold my hand out to Ence. She places her hand in mine, her smile that can make me melt. When we get down to where people are dancing, her arms wrap around the back of my neck.

Her eyes are staring directly into mine, tightening her arms around my neck. It’s like nothing else exists around us, we sway slowly to the music. Ence’s forehead is against my chest, and I kiss the top of her head. Ence really is something else, and I love every part of her. Even the little attitude she has when she gets mad.

…

I’m walking Ence up to her door, she turns towards me. “I really enjoyed tonight,” she hugs me.

“Hey, Ence?”

She looks up at me, “Hmm?”

I press my lips against hers, her arms go around my neck. We don’t pull away, our bodies pretty much wrapping around each other. I look at her, “I love you, Ence.”

Ence stares at me for a moment, “I love you, too.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I go to walk away, but Ence is still holding on to my hand. She unlocks her door, tugging me into her house. She locks the door and turns to look at me. “Follow me,” she says over her shoulder.

With no hesitation, I’m close on her heels. Walking into her bedroom, she shuts her bedroom door. I’m trying to gauge if what she’s doing. She’s brought me in here just to normally sleep a few times before.  

Ence grabs the zipper towards the top of her dress, pulling it down. The dress slips off her, and onto the floor. She walks up to me, “I think you know what I want, right?”

My hands glide down her sides, “More than sleep?”

Nodding, she undoes the hook to her bra. I pull her close to me, her hands start unbuttoning my shirt. My fingers find her underwear, and I start sliding them down. Our lips never leave each other, even when I have her pinned to the bed.

Chapter Text

As I barely take my first step into D’Assine’s, Celia shoots up from behind her desk. “Valencia!” She pulls me into a hug, “How’ve you been, dear?”

Celia’s hug warms me, “I’m doing better. I’ve finally moved back from Sacramento a few months ago. How’s you and the shop?”

“Amazing, both of us,” her eyes go to Rusty, “another beau?”

Rusty coughs on his cigar smoke, “No. Another, though?”

“Ah, she’s joking,” I try to brush that comment away, “I’m actually here for work. I’m a homicide Detective now, and Rusty is my partner.”

“Oh, that’s not good,” her smile drops, “who died?”

Pulling out my notepad, “Do you remember much about when I modeled for you a couple of years ago?”

“Yes, your boyfriend at the time bought the dress you were in, right?”

“Boyfriend,” I can hear Rusty snickering to himself.

“Yes, but not that part. Do you remember the other models you used?”

Celia walks towards her desk and sits down. I watch as she digs through a few drawers, taking books out and checking the contents. After flipping through a thick, black book, she places it on the table. “These are the six others I used,” she slides it to me.

Flipping through a couple of the pages, “Maria Nunez,” I write her name down in my notebook.

“Oh, not Maria…”

“You two were still close?”

“No, not at all, actually. I mean, back then we were, but… she got caught up in illegal doings for the passed few months. After her ‘friends’ tried to rob me, I banned her from not only my shop, but my life. I’m just a little upset about it, y’know? Not surprised by it either.”

“Illegal doings? Like what?”

Celia looked down, “She and her boyfriend were drug dealers. They’d put the product on her since police would never expect her of being apart of it. If they got caught, she’d lie her way out. Then her boyfriend would be released with little evidence. Can’t claim someone’s a drug dealer with one or two ounces of anything.”

Rusty sits down, “Do you remember her boyfriend’s name by chance?”

“Uh… Greg… Greg something…,” she closes her eyes, “Greg Riley. I’m fairly sure that’s his name.”

Getting ready to sketch, “Can you remember what he looks like, Celia?”

“He was white, average height, I suppose. Was on the chubbier side, and he always smelt of hop. Not sure if it was because he smoked it or he supplied it. Unremarkable looking, brown eyes, blond hair. I think he got Maria’s name tattooed on his shoulder.”

“Tattoo on his shoulder?”

“Yeah, it had Maria’s name in the middle of a heart.”

I close my notepad loudly, “Thank you, Celia. You’ve been a huge help.”

“Of course, anything to help you, Val. Maybe you and I could grab lunch or something soon, huh?” She hugs me again, “Maybe a little more modeling?”

I laugh slightly, “I’ll be sure to think about it. It was rather fun when I did.”

“How’re you and that fiancé doing? Is he part of the reason you became a detective?”

So many alarm bells go off in my head, “Actually, we haven’t been together for a little while… I ended up being a DA investigator while up in Sacramento. Got bored of it and came home.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. We’ll talk soon, yeah?”

“Yes, have a nice day, Celia.”

Rusty and I exit the store, getting back in the car. The moment I looked up from my notepad, I was met by Rusty’s smirk. “Fiancé was a detective, huh?”

I roll my eyes, “Don’t start, I’m already in a bad mood.”

“Why?”

“Greg was vic B.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? How’d you remember?”

“Vic B was the one that was nearly decapitated, but at least we can tie those two together.”

“Motherfucker…”

The car ride is silent for a few minutes as I dig through my notes again. We get a lead, then find out the only other lead we get means nothing. It means nothing since they’re already dead and now we’re back at square one. Maybe there’s a way to tie the others together? It’d be nice, but we don’t know who they are.

Maria gave us something, we could always look for her family and Greg’s family to see if they were also aware of what they were doing. Give us some names, or some faces, or something. It really sucks that we’re going back to the station empty handed and all of us are going to be in shit again.

We all traded notes, synced everything we wrote together. Which means we have everyone’s point of view already and there was nothing left to add. To make our notebook more than just notes, pages to a criminal report. Now they’re just notes again, and it’s enraging.

I’m pulled from my thoughts by Rusty’s snickering, “C’mon, tell me what detective you were engaged to, Clark.”

I roll my eyes even harder, “I never said he was a detective. Celia is misremembering him or something.”

“Then what did he do? If we can’t count on her memory, how do we know that she described Greg, right?”

“Like you would even know him.”

“So, he WAS a detective?”

“Fuck off, Bar,” I slap his arm.

“We’re partners! We should be able to talk about these things!”

“Maybe that’s how you and Cole were, but my ex-fiancé has nothing to do with my life now. Why would I even care enough to tell you who he was?”

Rusty looks at me, “Why are you so defensive about it?”

“Because even though I broke the engagement doesn’t mean that talking about him doesn’t hurt me still. I still love him,” I glance out the window.

“I see, and who do you still love?” Rusty cackles as he parks the car.

“I swear to God, Bar, I’m going to break your nose!” I yell at him, slamming the car door.

Following me back up the stairs, “At least give me a description so I can guess.”

“I swear to Christ, I’m going to kick you down the stairs, you relic!” I swing the door open, the others looking directly at me. “What the fuck are you looking at?”

There’s a small collection of nothing, Roy immediately reading over my body language. Knowing full well that I’m not far off from actually being violent, not just talking about it. “So, uh… how’d the Celia thing go?” Roy asks, Rusty holding his stomach while he’s laughing.

“This asshole is about to be thrown out a window,” I snap.

“What’s with all the threats?” Cole walks over.

“Celia let it slip that Clark’s ex-fiancé is and or used to be a detective, and I just asked who he was is all. I’m just curious of who it was, and she got into a little fit.”

“I told you to let it the fuck go because I’m not in the motherfucking mood, you dick,” I growl.

“Enough with the arguing,” Stefan steps between Rusty and I, “did Celia tell you something important?”

“About that,” I roll my shoulders as I take a few steps back, “we got something that is both helpful and not so helpful.”

Roy sat on a desk, “And that was?”

I walk to the chalkboard, “We found out that Vic G’s name is Maria Nunez. Celia mentioned that she had fell into a bad crowd with her boyfriend. Her boyfriend just happens to be vic B, Greg Riley.”

“How’d you know it was vic B?”

“Vic B had a tat on his shoulder, right Mal?”

Mal nods his head, “Yeah, ‘Maria’.”

Someone from downstairs brings up two papers, “Found their family’s addresses, but they didn’t seem to have their own places to live.”

The others look over the board, “So, who’s going to Maria’s and who’s going to Greg’s?” Rusty asks, his laughter stopping momentarily.

Snatching one of the papers from him, “I can handle going to Greg’s alone. Why don’t you stay here and play twenty questions with someone else?”

Rusty’s eyebrows furrowed, “Why are you so fucking defensive about it? It’s not a big deal. I’ve been married three times, and I’d tell you their names if you asked.”

“Do you still have love for the three of them?”

“Hell no.”

“That’s the difference, asshole. I still love him, so maybe I don’t want to talk about something that still hurts.” While being caught up in my emotions towards Rusty, it barely dawns on me that Roy was in the room.

“Alright, I’ll go with Rusty,” Cole grabs his jacket, “Stefan needs to stay here to become more familiar with everything going on.”

“Wait, so Roy’s going with Clark?” Rusty asks.

“Excuse me?” Roy tries to play dumb.

My fist tightens, the paper in my hand starts to crinkle, “You know what? Yeah, I’d rather deal with Roy right now,” I snap.

Roy glances between the three of us, “Fine, can we get going, though? The sooner we do this, we’re one step closer to avoid being blamed for this shit show,” he yanks the paper from my hand.

I follow after Roy as the four of us go down the stairs, him stomping the entire time. The sooner I get away from Rusty, the better I’ll be. I thought he’d have more respect for me at this point, getting the hint when I tell him I don’t want to talk about something. Especially something that isn’t any of his business.

Getting in the passenger seat, I slam my door shut. I think he was attempting to say something to me, but I don’t care right now. All I need is some time to calm down, which I’m hopefully getting.

Roy is quiet for a few minutes, “So, you do love me?”

Sighing heavily, “You know I do. I just really don’t want anyone to know.”

“Thanks, that makes me feel good.”

“Roy,” I throw my head back, “I’m not ashamed of you. I’m not ashamed of loving you. I just don’t need the shit from people about our relationship ON TOP of dealing with this stupid case.”

“We’re in a relationship now?” Roy looks at me, “I don’t mean that sarcastically, even though that’s how it sounded.”

I take a moment to consider on how to word this as best as I can, “I don’t know. I know that the pain that I caused both of us was what split us, and you could honestly do better.”

“Do better?” He pulls off the main road to be able to stop in the car in a neighborhood, “what the fuck do you mean?”

Taking another moment of silence to assess the situation in the car, shoving the argument with Rusty and the cases to the very back of my mind.

Looking at him, he looks angry, which I don’t understand. I didn’t insult him, “You could find someone who didn’t and won’t pull the same selfish shit that I did.”

“Ence, you’re everything that I want. I wouldn’t have asked you to marry me if I didn’t think that you were the person I wanted to marry. I get that the self-degrading comments are because of the shit your dad put you through, but he’s fucking worthless. You’re not.”

A small smile forms on my lips, “So, I’m forgiven?”

Roy glances off, “I think us having sex again was you being forgiven.”

“Roy,” my face heats up.

He laughs slightly, “Is there going to be a point when this is out in the open?”

“When we’re finally able to shut this case. I can only handle so many questions and so much pressure at a time. Once we’re done with this, it won’t be on top of our relationship.”

With nothing more than a nod, “Alright,” he gently grabs my chin, slightly pulling until he can place his lips against mine.