Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As Bette briskly strode through the corridors of the police station, her footsteps felt heavy following the call she'd just received as she was leaving her car. The news that Kyle Taylor's body had been discovered had shaken her, but she moved with determination despite trying to digest that her most valuable informant was just found dead in a suspected homicide. Recognising her thunderous expression, and all too familiar with her demeanour, Bette's colleagues in blue parted ways as she approached, exchanging glances in her wake.

Already on edge from the grim start to the morning, Bette's mood darkened further as she approached the communal coffee machine. She was intent on a much-needed caffeine boost to steel her resolve, only to find that someone had left the empty pot without refilling it. "Fucking savages," Bette muttered to herself.

The aroma filled Bette's nostrils as the coffee brewed, and the detective allowed herself a brief moment of respite as the last of the drips passed through the filter. She had personally recruited Taylor as an informant almost two years ago, and after a few painstaking months of cat-and-mouse, he had become one of her most reliable sources into the fringe of Jude Dominic's underground criminal activities. Despite having zero convictions, it was common knowledge in Riverbank that Dominic ran most of the drugs, weapons and petty crime operations. Getting someone to rat on him, even at a low level, had taken almost everything Bette had. She blew out a long breath to steady herself as she stirred sugar into her paper cup before turning towards the door, when her moment of peace was abruptly shattered by an unexpected collision.

Caught off guard by the sudden impact, Bette stumbled backward, just managing to keep grip of her drink as a jolt of frustration coursed through her. A figure—slightly shorter than Bette—stood before her, features framed by a cascade of short blonde hair. Brown eyes met her gaze, a mixture of surprise and defiance as she struggled to regain her balance.

"Watch where you're going!" Bette snapped tersely, her tone sizzling with irritation as she felt hot liquid streaming down her wrist onto the floor. She bristled as she looked down at the wet, dark patches forming on the carpet.

"Shit, I'm - sorry," the woman offered a hurried apology as she attempted to mop up the mess with a handful of napkins. Bette's jaw tightened, her annoyance simmering. Deep down, she recognised the recruit's accident as an innocent mistake, but the small incident exacerbated her frayed nerves all the same. With a curt nod of dismissal, she brushed past the beat cop towards the door, slamming it behind her.

Ascending the stairwell of the police station, Bette moved as if on autopilot. With her roots in the precinct stretching back seventeen years since her academy graduation, her feet guided her instinctively to the second-floor bullpen. Pausing briefly to roll her shoulders back, she then rounded the corner to her desk and sat on its edge, sipping her coffee as a familiar face looked up at her from over the partition.

"Hey, Liv," Bette greeted, and jutted her chin towards the piles of paperwork on Olivia Dwyer's desk. "Busy morning?"

Olivia glanced down before looking back up at Bette, a harried smile on her face. "You could say that," she replied with a soft chuckle. Her coiled black hair was slightly frizzed, a few coils threatening to break loose of her low bun. "Hey I heard about Taylor. Tough break."

Bette winced slightly at the mention of her informant, the news still shifting like lead in her chest, finding a place to settle. "Yeah, I just got the call on the way in here. Rough start to the day," Bette admitted, hearing the weariness creep into her voice. Olivia and Bette had gone through training together, first at the academy, and again when they were both accepted into the  detective program. Even though Bette gave off a tough, no-nonsense exterior at work, Olivia knew her better than that, so she let her guard down a little when it was just the two of them.

"Any ideas on what happened?" Olivia's brows furrowed in curiosity. Bette shook her head.

"Nothing reported yet. I know it was him," Bette looked down and shook her head bitterly.

"Dominic?"

"He's a slippery fucking weasel," Bette drained the last of her drink before tossing it in the waste basket. "I'll bet anything that he found out about Taylor and had him taken out of the equation."

"Who's a slippery fucking weasel, Porter?"

Bette turned around to see Detective Myers pull to a stop next to her, before giving her a light elbow in the arm. She looked up at him with a sarcastic smile. "You are, Leo. Hasn't anyone told you already today?"

"Not yet, surprisingly," Myers gave Bette a grin, which she couldn't help returning. Towering at 6'7", Leo Myers commanded attention but wasn't imposing. Despite the build and his badge, Bette knew he was a big softie. With his knack for diffusing tension and the fact that he was always ready with a comforting, well-timed joke, his physical presentation was the only intimidating part about him. 

“Sorry to hear about Taylor,” Myers murmured. Bette nodded her thanks, and watched as Olivia glanced up at the clock hovering above the wall behind her.

"We should get moving, you two," Olivia rose from her seat and nodded towards the briefing room.

As the clock ticked past 8am, signalling the start of the morning briefing, the three detectives fell into step with the rest of their colleagues filing into the crowded room. Amidst the familiar faces, Bette's eyes landed on a newcomer—recognising the blonde beat cop that nearly knocked her coffee out of her hand earlier. The woman stood at the edge of the room, her presence gaining more than a little curious attention. As their eyes briefly met, Bette raised an eyebrow in acknowledgment before looking ahead, the tension between them still palpable even from across the room. The murmured conversations came to a halt as Captain Cavanagh's commanding voice cut through the chatter.

"Good morning everyone, the time is eight-oh-three and I'm not getting any younger, so can we please make a start?" Cavanagh drew the attention of the room as he opened the briefing.

Somewhere in his mid-fifties, Cavanagh's salt-and-pepper hair hinted at a little wisdom, but his piercing gaze and booming voice still held the same vigour and passion as Bette had seen when she was fresh out of the academy. Despite his authoritative position, he was known amongst the team to be a reasonable and fair leader.

"Before I begin, I'd like to introduce Detective Tina Kennard," Cavanagh used a meaty hand to gesture across the room. Bette's gaze flickered across to where the blonde beat cop raised a hand. Detective? Bette thought, raising her eyebrows once more as she caught Myers' questioning glance.

"She joins us as a transfer from Elmridge, and brings a wealth of experience and considerable accolades," Cavanagh continued, his words punctuated by the silence of the group before him. "Please do what we do best, and make her feel welcome as she finds her way around,"

As a low hum of greeting sounded through the room, Bette's interest piqued slightly at Detective Kennard's apparent experience, despite the fact she looked like she was fresh out of training. Remembering the coffee room slight, any lingering curiosity was replaced by indifference as she shrugged off the news, listening intently as Cavanagh continued.

As the briefing went on, Bette felt a slight undercurrent of unease in the room. People were shifting in their seats, and twice she turned around to silence the whispering behind her with a fierce glare. The team at Bette's precinct were a tight-knit community - the majority of the officers had spent the entirety of their careers within the precinct's walls as Bette had, the deep-rooted camaraderie forming organically over the years. It wasn't uncommon to find service lineage within their ranks, with parents proudly passing the tradition to their children, as Bette's father had. It was, however, unusual for the morning briefing to be peppered with hushed chatter and restlessness. Bette glanced up again over to the new detective, who caught her eye and gave her a curt nod before Bette turned away. The briefing continued, and once any additional news was shared and cases were delegated, Cavanagh stood and straightened his shirt.

"Before you all go, I know there has been a lot of shifting and shuffling since Detective Riley has been out," Cavanagh said. There was a collective nod around the room, and everyone became still once more. "It's been a challenging time for all of us, but our thoughts are with him and his family as he makes his recovery. I'm sure he will be back here in no time, standing guard at the vending machine, and reporting yet another dent to his service vehicle that wasn't his fault,"

Bette's smile was strained as she thought back to her former partner's knack for creating elaborate excuses to explain the dings and scratches on his patrol car. Truth be told, he was a bit of a reckless driver, although not by any means intentional. Riley's animated storytelling sometimes just ended in an unintentional collision with a curb or a pillar. He'd often dubbed himself the calm to Bette's storm, which she resented but quietly agreed with. Years of working in partnership meant that they had an unspoken way of communicating and carrying out an investigation, each detective playing to their strengths to get the job done. Since Riley had been out, Bette found herself working most cases alone or with Myers - who, while a good detective, didn't quite fill the shoes of her partner.

Riley had been caught in the crossfire of a bust - one of Dominic's fronts for illicit weapons trade. While the SWAT team had orchestrated the operation, Riley and a few other senior detectives provided backup. It was a bullet from behind, a merciless 9mm that tore through his shoulder, thankfully not damaging anything vital to his survival. Bette's absence from the scene still gnawed at her, resenting the fact that she'd been posted at the opposite side of the perimeter. She hadn't even known he'd been hit until he was well on his way to Riverbank General Hospital. It was yet another mark that wouldn't make it onto Dominic's rap sheet - still nothing concrete that tied him to the crime. 

After Cavanagh had called the briefing to a close, Bette rose slowly, the heavy feeling still lingering.

"You heading out to the scene?" Olivia asked, recapping her pen as she juggled her notebook and files.

Bette sighed quietly. "Yeah, I was going to head straight there this morning but Cavanagh said I'd better not miss another briefing this month or I'd be back on patrol," 

"As if we've got the resources for you to be on patrol," Olivia gave a bitter laugh, and Bette rolled her eyes in agreement. As the pair made their way out of the briefing room, their conversation was interrupted by the approach of Detective Warren. With his perpetual air of self-importance, Warren swaggered over to join them.

"Morning, ladies," Warren greeted them, his tone as greasy as his hair. "You'll never guess what I heard."

Bette exchanged a brief, weary glance with Olivia, already bracing herself for an exchange she had no patience for. Notorious for pilfering credit and just being a general pain in everyone's ass,  Warren wasn't particularly popular or a welcomed interruption.

"What now, Warren?" Bette asked, hoping he would take the hint and make it quick.

Warren leaned in closer, almost humming with egotism. "Word on the floor is that our new friend from Elmridge might not be as squeaky clean as she seems," he announced. "I heard she grassed on a colleague at her old job, and that's why she hightailed it out of there."

Suppressing a sigh, Bette shot Warren a withering glare. "Thanks for the update, Warren," she muttered dismissively as she side-stepped him, eager to put some distance between them.

Olivia sat down at her desk and peered across the room to where Tina was sitting, before whispering to Bette. "Do you think it's true?"

"Who cares, Liv?" Bette considered Detective Kennard from a distance. There wasn't anything overtly threatening about her. She just looked like a new kid in school, not really sure where she fit in just yet. And considering if that rumour was flying around, she probably hadn’t had a warm welcome to Riverbank. She seemed unfazed by it, hands firmly on her hips as she stood in front of the case board on the wall, presumably looking for her name. 

"Porter! Got a minute?" Cavanagh's voice called from behind her, and she looked over her shoulder to see his head poking from his doorway, beckoning her inside. Bette and Olivia exchanged a knowing glance before she sloped off towards his office.

"Boss," Bette greeted him as she took the seat opposite his. His desk, as usual, looked like a battlefield - papers almost covered the entire surface, his crooked in-tray serving as a stand for coffee mugs with questionably aged contents. Even the small potted plant seemed on the brink of making an escape, positioned precariously on the edge of the desk. He sat down with a grunt, shifting until he was comfortable while the leather chair squeaked underneath him. The sound of the clock ticking filled the silence while she waited.

"You doing good?" Cavanagh asked. He leaned forwards, elbows planted firmly on the desk as he steepled his fingers under his chin. Bette gave a tight smile and nodded in response. Nearly three decades on the force, Cavanagh was still as sharp as ever. He was part of the old guard - he'd been in the academy with Bette's father, Warren's father, Olivia’s mother, and a host of other relatives of Bette's colleagues. Many of them, Bette's father included, had taken early retirement, or left when the demands of the job had worn down their bodies and minds.  Cavanagh had cultivated the close-knit, family environment in the precinct, while still managing to run a tight ship with a firm hand.

"Always doing good, Cav," Bette replied.

Cavanagh stared straight at her, as if trying to read her thoughts - he knew Bette well, both inside the precinct's confines and beyond. Without invitation, Bette's mind flickered back to the night nearly three years ago when she had returned home at 2am, exhausted and exhilarated, only to find her fiance surrounded by luggage. Tired of the demands of Bette's job - the irregular hours, mood swings and broken promises to be home - Jodi said she could no longer continue to play second fiddle, and walked out. In that moment of stunned disbelief, Cavanagh's was the first number she'd dialled - too shocked to cry as she watched the car back out of the drive.

"So it seems," he said, gruff but warm. "This Taylor case. It's close for you. Can you handle this? He was your informant, and given your history with trying to bust up Dominic's operations… it wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility of, well.. If you want to step aside on this one, I'll support you, no questions asked."

Bette narrowed her eyes. If anyone else had asked, she would have got her hackles up. She noticed, for the first time in a long time, that Cavanagh looked a little weary, and she softened.

"You'd assign it to someone else?" she asked, and he nodded. ""Is it an offer or a request? Because as much as I appreciate the sentiment, there's not a damn chance I'm dropping this. I know Dominic is behind Taylor's murder, and I'm going to make sure he goes down for it,"

"I thought you might say that," Cavanagh sighed, and leaned back into his chair. After a few seconds of considering  Bette, who was looking back with equal determination, he gave a small smile and shook his head. "Fine. But if it gets out of hand, or any closer to home, you're off it. For your sake and mine," he added and gestured towards the mountains of paperwork on his desk, evidence of his never-ending reports and files to read and sign off. Bette nodded reluctantly and they sat in silence for a few moments.

"I just don't get it," Bette finally said. "Everyone in this city and beyond knows his operation. He's got kids selling crack and god knows what else on every street corner. We know he runs weapons, launders money through his business, and all the rest… But it just seems impossible to get anything to stick to him,"

Cavanagh lifted his wire-rim glasses up to rub his eyes. "You're telling me, kiddo. He was big talk back when I was just starting out detective training, seemed to have his finger in every criminal pie across the city."

"Surprised you can remember that far back," Bette joked, grinning as she stood to make her exit and head to the crime scene. Cavanagh shot her a feigned look of offence from behind his desk. 

"There's a lot still up here, I'm not just a pretty face," he remarked, tapping his temple lightly. Bette chuckled as she turned and reached for the door handle.

"Porter, there's one more thing, actually,"

Bette turned to look at him, and followed his gaze through the musty window of his office to where Tina was sitting at a desk, absorbed in a document. Bette looked back at him, his expression bordering on pleading. She stared at him confused, until she clicked.

"No." she said firmly and wrapped her fingers around the brass handle of the door, beginning to turn it. "Anything else?"

"Porter, please. Just for this case, and if it doesn't work out-"

Bette cut him off. "I can't be babysitting the newbie on this one, Cav! I need someone that knows what they're doing, knows the history,"

"Porter, our resources are shot as it is, especially with Riley out for the next few months. She's an excellent detective with a track record that might even rival yours, and she doesn't need a babysitter. She needs a case, and a partner,"

"Well, find her another one, boss, because it's not going to be me," Bette declared, crossing her arms before realising how childish her stance must look. With a slight flush, she uncrossed them, opting instead to rest one hand on her hip. Cavanagh looked slightly exasperated.

"Listen, I don't want to pull rank with you. But there is also a formal complaint on my desk that you called a suspect a - " he lifted a piece of paper on his desk, scanning underneath it
"- 'fucking despicable caveman' last week during an arrest? I don't think either of us want me to deal with this complaint, but I'll have to - unless you can meet me halfway."

Bette considered her options. Cavanagh processing the complaint would mean that she would be on desk duties until the investigation was over, which was not an option if she was going to get Dominic arrested for Taylor's murder.

"Fine." she relented. Cavanagh picked up the complaint sheet and slid it into his overflowing desk drawer, potentially never to be seen again. "And by the way, that guy? He spat at me during his arrest."

"Did he knee himself in the nuts, too?" Cavanagh scratched his chin and looked at her questioningly, and Bette opened her mouth to answer but he raised a hand to stop her. She didn't ever intend to be difficult, but begrudgingly understood that well, sometimes she could be. As a seasoned detective with a case closure rate that easily surpassed her peers, she reasoned that her occasionally-flaring temper was part of the package, part of what fuelled her determination. Despite the rare outbursts, she'd never crossed the line to the point of a serious investigation, or suspension. Cavanagh seemed to understand this about her, and as well as giving gentle guidance to narrow her focus, he had been an unwavering support through all of her setbacks and triumphs.

"How's Annie?" Bette asked, smoothly diverting the conversation. Cavanagh's expression softened at the mention of his wife.

"She's in event organising mode," he sighed, and they shared a knowing glance. "Her charity has a gala coming up, and my thirtieth police anniversary party that I didn't ask for. Busier than a squirrel looking for a nut," he said affectionately, shaking his head.

"Well tell her to call me if she needs any help," Bette offered in parting. Conscious that she'd already lost precious moments she could have been spending at the homicide scene, she was more keen than ever to get moving. Cavanagh nodded and then tilted his head towards the bullpen.

"Just… don't bust her balls, or I'm pulling you out. Are we clear, Porter?"

"Yep!" Bette said without looking back, and closed the door quietly. Pausing just outside his doorway, she surveyed the bustling room. Everything seemed the same - the worn paint on the walls, the familiar faces passing through or deep in concentration at the desks - but there was an unfamiliar energy that she couldn't pinpoint. She shrugged it off. Transfers from other cities were something of a rarity these days; most cops stayed where they grew. Tina stood where she had been moments before, now in conversation with a uniformed officer, the fluorescent lighting casting a glint off her cheekbones. Eager to leave, Bette moved confidently towards them.

"Kennard, right?" Bette positioned herself beside Tina's desk, and the officer gave her a swift smile before scurrying away.

"Tina's fine. And sorry about earlier - the coffee. Nice to meet you properly," Her accent was rounded, like a southern kid that had wandered but not lost their roots. Tina held a hand, which Bette grasped briefly before dropping it.

"You're on the Taylor case with me," Bette continued. "Have you had time to read the file?"

Tina held up the small manila folder, a few thin sheets of copy paper poking out the top. "Pretty limited information so far, but yeah. I've managed the four pages,"

Bette felt a twinge of annoyance, realising that Cavanagh must have assigned the case to Tina before consulting her.

"I need to check out a car and then we can head out," Bette said, zipping up her jacket as Tina rose from her seat.

"Mind if I tag along to the vehicle desk?" Tina asked. "I'm still working out where everything is,"

Bette lifted her chin in confirmation and they started walking towards the stairs. As they moved, Bette caught the eye of Warren, his stare fixated on the pair. He raised an eyebrow and flickered his eyes to Tina, and gave Bette a smirk. She rolled her eyes and kept moving - she had bigger fish to fry than dealing with Warren's petty office politics.

"There’s a lot of background here that you might not know, but I'm assuming you haven't had time to read up on all of that. Taylor was an informant - "

"Yeah it says that in here," Tina interrupted and flashed the case file at Bette as they descended the stairs.

"As I was saying, I strongly suspect that either Dominic or someone from his crew has found out about it, and made the problem go away," Bette quickened her stride, annoyed at being interrupted mid-sentence. It was going to be a long day. 

"Any chance it could be unrelated? I mean given Taylor's record…"

"Doubtful, but possible," Bette replied tersely. They arrived at the fleet desk, and Bette began filling out the vehicle request as Tina flicked through the pages again. The vehicle desk assistant gave Tina a quick glance of suspicion and curiosity before arching an eyebrow at Bette, who shrugged before the assistant processed the request.

"Shit," Tina said quietly. "He was only twenty-eight, just a kid,"

"You'll get used to it," Bette replied, picking up the keys and thanking the assistant as they left.

"Actually, I've seen it over and over again since I started out as a beat cop, and I won't ever get used to it," Tina replied sharply. 

Bette bit her tongue, suppressing a retort to Tina's sanctimonious comment, as if Bette wasn't affected every single time she had to go to a homicide scene.

She led the way through the dimly lit corridors, the labyrinth of walls and doors as familiar to her as her own home. Despite the twists and turns, Tina kept pace with her.

"So is everyone around here usually so friendly?" Tina asked, gesturing behind them with her thumb. Bette held in a sigh, in no mood for small talk or to host a guided station tour. Not today.

"You talking about me personally, or just the people back there?" Arriving at the car, Bette slid into the driver's seat and started the engine before Tina had even closed her door.

"Just seems like everyone is a bit… I don't know. Distant," Tina said. Bette swivelled in her seat, and considered that the hushed whispering about Tina around the bullpen might have been as obvious to Tina as it was to her.

"Well… it's a tight-knit unit. Most people have worked together for years," Bette offered as much as she had the patience for. The wheels of the car squeaked against the polished concrete as she manoeuvred towards the barrier, squinting in the low lighting. "You've been here for two hours. Give it time," Bette added. Her mind was focused on her plan of attack at the crime scene, silently praying to the forensic gods that Dominic or his motley crew had left something behind that would tie them to the homicide.

The journey unfolded in silence. With the morning rush hour behind them, traffic was thin as Bette steered towards the grittier part of Riverbank, towering apartment buildings cast short shadows on the streets. As Tina flipped through the sparse case file, Bette drummed a rhythm on the steering wheel, adrenaline stirring as it always did in the lead-up to arriving at a homicide scene.

"How long was Taylor an informant?" Tina asked without looking up. Bette took a moment to answer, lost in thoughts of Dominic as they were stopped at a red light. 

"Nearly two years. Does it not say that in there?"

"Mmm, yeah it does. But how long was he unofficial before he went on record as an informant?"

Bette sniffed a little. Tina was smart. Or just a smart ass. "A year, give or take,"

"And in all that time… He didn't give you anything that you could pin on Dominic?" Tina's tone was innocent enough, but Bette's guard was up and sensitive to any suggestions. 

"Are you interrogating me?"

"No, of course not. I-"

"So you're implicating me," Bette interrupted sharply. Tina let out a scoff.

"Is there something you could be implicated in?" she retorted. "Jesus Christ, Porter, what is your problem?"

"I don't have one, but you seem to have a problem with reading. They didn't teach you that at Elmridge?"

Tina gestured to the file on her knees while Bette kept her eyes on the road. "I've read this, and I'm asking some background questions to establish some more context about the case from someone who knew the victim. They don’t teach that here at Riverbank?"

Bette bit her tongue once again, fighting the reflex to unleash on Tina. Never one to back down from a confrontation, Bette went against her instincts and remained silent. She shook her head bitterly as she veered into the street leading to Taylor's apartment complex. Tina had hit a nerve, but the last thing she wanted was for it to get back to Cavanagh that she wasn't playing nice. After this case, Cavanagh could stick both his babysitting favour and the complaint where the sun doesn't shine. 

Chapter Text

Bette stepped out of the car, the tension between her and Tina hanging slightly lower after a silent remainder of the ride. Not another word had been spoken as they had lapsed into their respective tasks - Bette navigating them towards the scene, and Tina flicking through the case file. The temperature had increased in their short journey to the scene, sweltering heat beginning to bear down on them despite the late morning hour. Bette moved purposefully across the pavement, Tina falling into stride with her as they approached the perimeter.

The crime scene was no secret, the flashing lights and caution tape fluttering lazily in the breeze standing out like a sore thumb. Bette silently prayed that the media circus wouldn't descend on them before they'd had a chance to work through the scene in peace. A relic of the late 90s, the apartment lot was one of many designed to foster family life and bring working class people closer to the city. It had since succumbed to urban neglect, becoming just another block plagued by crime. Graffiti marred the walls, mostly a mosaic of gang tags with the occasional 'DEFUND THE POLICE' sentiment visible amongst the paint.

As they arrived at the tape, Bette's familiarity with local law enforcement and forensics became more apparent. She was waved through and watched from the other side as Tina presented her identification to the officer managing the perimeter. It had been a long time since she'd worked a case where she wasn't a recognisable figure to the perimeter cops. She stood confidently, the weak breeze shifting the blonde hair around her face while she waited patiently. As they passed the tape and walked towards the apartment, solemn greetings were exchanged with brief nods of acknowledgement. Bette couldn't help but notice how most of them directed their attention solely to her, giving Tina barely more than a cursory glance. She wondered briefly if the rumours had reached the ears of everyone in and around the precinct, their silent judgement of Tina evident in their reluctance to even introduce themselves. Never one to get involved in gossip, Bette refocused and steeled herself for entering the crime scene.

At the bottom of the steps leading up to Taylor's apartment, Bette's gaze lifted to the entrance as a technician emerged, revealing Taylor's shoes just visible from the doorway. Any lingering irritation she felt gave way to remorse.

"Detective Porter," a gravelly voice said, bringing her attention back to ground level.

"Morning, Elliot," Bette greeted one of the forensic technicians. "What have we got here?"

Elliot returned her tense smile, her tone brisk and professional. "Looks like a homicide. Male victim, a Kyle Taylor according to the ID in his wallet. Late twenties, single clean gunshot wound to the head. Execution style." Her attention briefly flickered to Tina before returning to Bette.

"Medical examiner here yet?" Bette asked.

Elliot looked at her watch and shook her head. "En route, apparently."

"Ok. Anything to suggest a break in?"

Elliot shook her head, her expression sombre. "Not as far as I can see, but I've only done a preliminary assessment. Door handle looks like it has been wiped clean, too."

Bette nodded, her mind already shifting with possibilities. She looked upwards, scanning the walls of the buildings. Broken windows peered back at her, some hastily patched with cardboard, while others remained vulnerable to the elements.

"There's a few cameras on the far wall over there," Elliot said, ahead of Bette's train of thought.

"I've already had a request for footage signed off from the station captain," Tina finally spoke.

Bette gave a cursory nod to Tina, keeping her eyes on Elliot. "Who found him?"

"A contracting pal, apparently. Arranged to pick Taylor up from home at seven, he doesn't show, so he knocks on the door and it swings open. Full frontal view," Elliot replied. Bette blew out a low whistle while Tina noted the information down. "He's being escorted across to Riverbank to give a formal statement,"

"Alright, thanks. Give me two minutes to get kitted out," Bette said before turning to Tina, who was listening intently. Bette tossed a scene kit to Tina before ripping her own open as Elliot made her way back up the steps.

"Think you can handle this on your first day?" Bette asked, gesturing towards the entryway with her chin. She pulled out the Tyvek shoe covers and stretched them over her boots, balancing on one foot at a time.

"It's my first day here, not my first day as a detective,"  Tina said evenly, slipping on latex gloves alongside Bette. Bette raised her eyebrows in response before heading towards the apartment entrance. "You think I'm going to put my name against an investigation without attending the scene?" Tina scoffed after her, voice firm despite the tension between them. Bette ignored her and made her way inside, her frustration levels at a gentle simmer.

As Bette pushed the door open, she held her breath, bracing for what she would find. Inside, she immediately noticed the absence of chaotic aftermath. There were no signs of a violent struggle—no overturned furniture or shattered glass. Instead, the scene was eerily mundane, as if Taylor had just stepped out for a jog. The only thing seemingly out of place was the lifeless body resting awkwardly against the couch. A pool of blood had formed beneath his head, his vacant eyes staring into the distance.

Without a word, Bette approached the body, eyes fixed on his motionless face. She suppressed a wave of sadness and rage at the injustice. Pivoting to take in the compact apartment, Bette realised she'd never really thought about where Taylor lived. Of course, she knew the block, but hadn't given any consideration to what his home had looked like. The drawn curtains filtered through a sliver of mid-morning sunlight, giving the room a subdued glow as she stepped around carefully. The furniture, while dated, was in good condition, and although there were few personal items, the knick-knacks and books on the shelves were neat and orderly. Aside from the empty take-away container and beer can on the coffee table, everything seemed undisturbed. She knelt down beside the body, eyes still focusing in the dim light. "We need to bag and tag everything," she said, more to herself than anyone else. "You running a scene log, Elliot?"

Elliot nodded, holding up her camera in one hand and notepad in the other. "When haven't I?"

She had worked a lot of homicides with Elliot in the past, and rarely met anyone as meticulous. The rest of the crime scene techs moved around under Elliot's instruction as if choreographed, quietly dusting for fingerprints and laying down evidence markers. Bette stepped through to the small kitchenette and turned, mentally sifting through possibilities as she took the scene in from further away.

Still in the lounge, Tina methodically combed through the room, scanning every inch of space between the body to the narrow hallway. She was thorough, Bette had to give her that. She watched Tina move gracefully, carefully, every footstep planned, every turn calculated. Her mind flickered briefly, wondering what had led Tina to leaving her previous job, but her pride and irritation would keep her from broaching the subject. Despite not liking her, she didn't want to be the one to give any air time to rumours. Tina was pissing her off on virtue alone.

"It's too clean in here," Bette muttered to herself. Two techs manoeuvred a lighting rig into position, casting harsh fluorescent beams across the scene. As the apartment door closed behind them, the air in the room became heavy once again, thick with the acrid scent of blood. She stepped into the kitchen, gaze sweeping over the unremarkable items across the counter. A cluttered mail rack, a calendar, standard items evidencing a fairly mundane and routine existence. Bette's initial assumptions continued to crumble. Gang violence was typically messy, and where snitching was concerned, it was an exhibition designed to send a clear and brutal message. Although rare, it wasn't unheard of for gang's like Dominic's to use car bombs as a demonstration - killing those inside, and leaving lasting trauma on any bystanders. But this... this felt different. There was a calculated precision to it that didn't line up with the reckless nature of a gang hit.

"Porter," Tina's sudden call broke through the quiet. Bette approached cautiously. Tina was crouched down next to the couch, her face mere inches away from Taylor's now illuminated figure.

"Find something?" Bette asked.

Tina pointed a gloved finger to his wrist, where a sticky residue clung to the skin, accompanied by a few dark fibres. Bette frowned, leaning in closer to get a better look.

"It's here, on the left wrist," Tina pointed. "And here, on the right, in the same area. Looks like some kind of adhesive," Tina remarked, her eyes scanning up the arms of the victim.

Bette nodded in agreement. "Elliot? Can you make sure the ME gets this swabbed?"

She turned to see Elliot gesturing toward the medical examiner who was passing through the doorway, approaching with a substantial black scene case in each hand. With a nod of thanks, Bette stepped back, allowing them to start their assessment of the body.

They continued to work the scene, detectives and forensic techs weaving past each other with cameras, bags and printing kits. As she moved through Taylor's living space, the disconcerting tidiness of it all sent shivers down Bette's spine. Something wasn't sitting right. A pang of nostalgia for working alongside Riley struck her out of nowhere, wishing he was there to bounce her theories with instead of the conversation-less tension between her and Tina. She shook it off, trying to remain focused.

Entering the cramped bathroom, barely large enough to accommodate the essentials, Bette surveyed the tiny space. She clicked her torch to life and directed the beam up at the ceiling, then down to the sink, before crouching to inspect the bathroom cabinet. Among the ordinary items inside – shaving cream, toilet rolls –  she noticed something out of place. She knelt lower and put her head into the cabinet, directing the light to reveal a bulky object concealed in the shadows. The silence outside the bathroom seemed to amplify her confinement, her shallow breaths the only audible sound as the space felt like it was closing around her. Her heart pounded rhythmically against her chest. Gritting her teeth, Bette plunged a steady hand into the darkness, fingers wrapping around the mysterious object lodged beneath the shelf. With her eyes shut tight in concentration, she slowly pried it free.

"Got something?" Tina's voice sliced through from the doorway, startling Bette. She jumped, slamming her head against the inside of the cabinet.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Bette swore, and looked up at Tina in consternation. "Is it absolutely necessary for you to sneak up on me?"

Tina glanced down at her, her lean physique slightly imposing from the low angle, despite being a few inches shorter than Bette. "Don't flatter yourself. Just passing on that the ME is ready to move the body." Tina went to walk away, and Bette groaned internally before she called out to her.

"Can you pass me an evidence bag, at least?" Bette asked, exasperated. "Please?" she added.

Tina stopped and paused before turning back. Moving closer, she held out an open plastic zip lock bag so Bette could put the item inside.

"A burner phone," Tina said, mildly surprised. "In the cabinet?"

"No, I just picked it up from a quick trip to the store." Bette stood up, wincing as she felt her head begin to throb from the impact. "Yes, in the cabinet,"

Tina ignored her, sealing the bag and filling in the details of the find on the outside label. Without a word, she walked back out into the living area, Bette following closely behind. Together, they watched silently as the medical examiner sealed the black body bag, before concluding that their detective efforts had reached their limits at the scene. Bette exchanged a few farewells with the forensic crew before she and Tina left the apartment. As they descended the stairs, Bette took deep breaths of the welcome fresh air. The sun, now high in the sky, bore down on them as they headed towards the car.

"So, how long until we get ballistics back on the bullet?" Tina asked.

"Considering it's still inside his skull, I'd say at least a day or two?" Bette felt sweat already building underneath her collar as the pair made their way across the courtyard.

After a few moments, Tina's voice rang out next to her, tone casual as she broke the uneasy silence between them. "Porter, are you always like this with new partners, or am I getting special treatment?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Bette's jaw tensed, her irritation flaring again. She was too hot and too mentally swamped to be having this conversation.

"I'm not completely oblivious, Porter. I know you don't want to work with me, and based on how you've acted today I can assure you the feeling is mutual." Tina's eyes flashed bravely at Bette.

"How I've acted -" Bette bristled, cursing Cavanagh again for burdening her with a monumental pain in the ass. "You know what this case means, right? I brought him in. He was my informant. I worked him, I brought him into this, and I'm damn near sure that's the reason he was killed,"

Tina stopped abruptly, staring into the distance. Good. Maybe she was finally listening, Bette thought.

"So if you can take two seconds to get off your — where are you going?" Bette began, but before she could finish, Tina began striding across the grass towards the outer gate. "Real fucking mature, Kennard!" she muttered.

Bette rolled her eyes as Tina walked off, leaving her standing alone in the courtyard halfway to the car. The case was complicated enough without the added burden of showing Tina the local ropes, especially when Bette felt like she wasn't even willing to listen.  She longed for Riley and his easy ways, his intuition something she could always count on. Thinking about Riley only intensified her anger towards Dominic, and led to a deepening confusion about Taylor's seamless execution.

Bette nudged a loose stone with her foot before turning to watch the medical examiner load the body into the van as beads of sweat formed at her temple. She could feel her thick brown hair prickling in the heat, threatening to escape from its elastic restraint. For a fleeting moment, she entertained the idea of leaving Tina and driving back to the precinct alone. The thought was quickly quashed, the prospect of Cavanagh's reaction unappealing.

With a sigh, she scanned the courtyard, shielding her eyes from the sun's glare. Tina was standing in the shade of one of the buildings, engaged in conversation with someone. As Bette approached, his features came into view: a young, hunched-over male with the hood of his sweater pulled tight around his face, shifting his weight from foot to foot as if he were about to bolt. Bette's hand moved instinctively to rest on her holster, sentinel at her side as always.

"And around what time do you think that was?" Tina was asking.

"Uhh, about one, maybe just after." the guy responded.

"What's…" Bette started, and Tina looked straight down, not bothering to look up at Bette as she wrote the time down.

"This is Michael, and he saw somebody leaving that apartment last night, at around one am, Detective Porter," Tina said, with a hint of contention.

"You got a last name, Michael?' Bette asked, looking him up and down. His face looked familiar, but she couldn't place him. Sadly, he looked like every other kid she'd brought in for breaking and entering, or exchanging packets for cash behind the public housing estates.

"Jones," Michael said swiftly, almost defensively. Bullshit, thought Bette.

"Michael, can you remember anything about the person you saw? If they looked older than you, or if they were wearing anything specific that you can recall?" Tina asked. Her questions were good, giving the witness a framework to work with. She nodded along encouragingly, her body language relaxed as she listened to Michael speak.

"It was dark, but I could see he had an athletic build. And he had dark hair, and he was dressed just like… a normal guy."

"That's great, thank you. And do you think he was taller, shorter or the same height as you?"

"Taller. About six-five," Michael said, eyes flickering around, looking like he wanted to get out of there.

“Did you know the man who lived in 6B?”

“Nah. Saw him around sometimes. Never spoke to him,” 

Tina collected a few more details, writing them down meticulously while Bette stood back and waited, and before long Michael was skulking off.

"He was just waiting for you there?" Bette asked as Tina folded up her little notebook and put it in her pocket.

"He was loitering, looking right at me, and didn't run when I walked over. Seemed like he had something to say." Tina replied as they made their way to the car.

"Michael Jones," Bette scoffed. "Hundred bucks says that's not his real name."

"Yeah, I wasn't buying it. He was oddly specific though, wasn't he? 'Six five, athletic build…' " Tina said. "What street kid uses the term 'athletic build'?"

"I thought that was a bit off, too." Bette agreed. The heat of their disagreement was forgotten in light of the witness' information, both detectives keen to find evidence to back up his claim. Cavanagh's words about working with Tina lingered in Bette's mind as she closed the car door. With the keys in the ignition, she glanced at Tina, who was engrossed in her notepad, comparing notes from the file on her lap.

"Look," she started. "I'm sorry if I was short with you earlier. This case is really important to me," Bette had never been good at apologising.

"Earlier? Porter, you've been cagey with me since I walked in the door of the precinct! I don't know what your issue is with me, and frankly I can't imagine what it could be other than you might feel threatened by someone just as experienced as you coming into your insular little situation," Tina said, and Bette went to open her mouth but Tina pressed on. "Don't worry, I'm not here to try and show anybody up. I'm just here to do my job."

Tina turned to look directly out of the windshield. "But, I accept your apology."

Heat rose to Bette's cheeks as she suppressed the arguments that threatened to escape her lips, and she took a steadying breath. "Look, Kennard. You've been assigned to work this case with me, I didn't request you." she said, her words tight and controlled. "If you have a problem with the case, put a formal request in to be taken off. I won't take offence,"

Tina's tone matched hers. "I don't have a problem with working this case, or any case for that matter. What I do have a problem with is your attitude."

"Likewise," Bette shot back. Tina let out a dry laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, both staring straight ahead out the windshield until gradually the tension started to fade. Bette rubbed her brow, trying and failing to see a path forward where they might actually get some results on this case. She resented Tina's comment about feeling threatened by her - it couldn't be further from the truth. Bette wasn't threatened. She just didn't want to be holding the hand of some outsider in the middle of something that meant so much to her. It was distracting, and the thought of having to manage herself and Tina's initiation into Riverbank made her head throb even more. Bette closed her eyes and breathed out a weary sigh, the fight leaving her slightly.

"Listen," Tina started, carefully. "We're going to have to figure this out. I can't work like this,"

Bette nodded once. She had to give her a little credit - coming at her so boldly and confidently on day one was nothing to be sniffed at, and despite Bette's behaviour, Tina still wanted to reach a workable solution. It was the type of benevolence that made Bette think Tina had probably never turned in a report late or had a complaint filed against her. Her mind drifted to the faces of those affected by Dominic's actions: Taylor, Riley, and a slew of others whose lives had been lost or touched in some way. Gripping the steering wheel as she stared straight ahead, Bette spoke in an even tone. "Nailing this asshole is my top priority, and maybe I'm being a bit… controlling about it, but I think that's what is going to get it done."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tina look down at her hands before turning towards her. "Being emotionally invested in a case isn't necessarily always a bad thing. But you're going to be rowing upstream trying to close this case and shut me out all at once."

Bette was silent for a moment, before lifting her chin in response. "We'd better get going,"

She started the engine and looked over her shoulder as she put the car in reverse, glancing at Tina, who was still watching her intently. She caught sight of Tina's hazel eyes, their colour illuminated by the sunlight streaming in through the window. Although the heat had been taken out of the argument, Tina's eyes gave away a little lingering resilience.

"You've done solid work today. You did everything that I would do at a scene." Bette rarely extended olive branches, but she had to forge the path ahead somehow.

"So quit being an ass to me," Tina replied, a slight smile playing on her lips, though her eyes remained serious.

"Noted. Let's just… get through this case," Bette offered a resigned smile in return.

"Works for me," Tina replied. Bette weaved the car through the streets, eyes scanning the bleak surroundings as they headed back towards the station as her mind churned over the case details. Occasionally, she stole a few glances at Tina, who was engrossed in her notes, or peering out the window, seemingly lost in thought.

"You know, it doesn't fit," Tina spoke suddenly, and tapped her pen onto the paper on her lap. Bette's eyes began to roll instinctively before she remembered she was trying to curb her attitude.

"What, the witness?"

"Not just that. The scene. For me, it doesn't fit with gang-related homicide. It's too clean, no forced entry, the surfaces wiped… Nothing on the door handle. And that residue…"

Bette continued her train of thought, agreeing. "No sign of any kind of struggle, either. Almost nothing out of place." She checked her wing mirror before she changed lanes, drumming her fingers behind the wheel again. "Think that residue could be from some kind of restraint?"

Tina nodded again as she held her own wrists in front of her, mimicking the positions of being bound. "Why though? If they were going to kill him anyway, why tie him up?"

Bette mulled over the question as they pulled into the parking garage. The air around them felt stagnant, heavy with the fumes of gasoline and exhaust. Following closely behind Tina, Bette's thoughts were consumed by the looming task of the night's report writing. The rhythmic thud of their boots echoed off the walls, set on a backdrop of traffic and the city bustling in the distance. Lost in contemplation, Bette nearly collided with Tina who had stopped abruptly at the rear entryway door.

"What are you doing?" Bette said in surprise. "This case will go a lot faster if we're actually in the building,"

Tina turned around with an exasperated expression. "I might be able to get in if you'd thought to give me the code,"

Suppressing a sigh, Bette entered the access code as Tina watched. Between the cabinet incident and the mounting pressure of the case, her earlier headache had gone from gentle knocking to aggressive pounding. She longed to go home and disappear into a deep bath, and could almost visualise the glass of single-malt whiskey in one hand. But, the familiar routine of a homicide case beckoned - research, reporting, evidence gathering and witness statements.

As they walked back through the halls, Bette considered the new detective in front of her, acknowledging the inevitable reality: if she wanted to stay on this case, which was non-negotiable, she was going to have to learn to work with her. The dynamic wasn't an easy one - but she begrudgingly recognised the similarities. Both women, more than accomplished in their field, both driven and unafraid of using their voice. Bette just hoped that as far as taking Dominic down, their combined efforts would work for them, and not against them.

Bette tossed her jacket over the back of her chair, sinking into her seat and bringing her computer to life with a wiggle of the mouse. She gestured for Tina to sit at the chair next to her, ignoring the incessant ringing of the phone at the desk opposite. Without any forensic results expected until at least the next morning, they had to make do with the sparse evidence they had - a mixture of speculations and loose connections. As Bette scanned her emails, she felt sets of curious eyes on her from around the room as people looked from her to Tina, reminded again that she was the subject of a lot of hushed whispering. Deciding that from experience, the several 'urgent' messages in her inbox were unlikely to be very urgent, she turned her attention to Tina, who was absorbed in an old case record loosely linked to Dominic's crew. She swivelled her chair to face her, and tapped the desk between them.

"Can I save you some time?" Bette offered. Tina looked up at her and flashed a small, appreciative smile. "Get comfortable, then,"

Tina nodded, settling in as Bette dug into Dominic’s history. She pointed out connections and highlighted some details from the internal electronic records. It felt good to talk it out, Bette realised. She felt like she was consolidating things in her own mind while getting Tina up to speed. She could see why Tina was successful; she asked the right questions, stayed focused and as always, took down a lot of notes. As people slowly left, the noise of the room gradually quieted down and the phone finally stopped ringing. The low evening hum filled the space, interrupted only by the unmistakable sound of a rumbling stomach.

“You getting hungry?” Bette glanced over at Tina, realising only then the tight, empty feeling in her own gut. She hadn't eaten since early that morning.

“Starving, actually. We skipped lunch." Tina ran a hand through her tousled blonde hair, becoming messier as the evening went on. “What’s good around here?” 

“Peyton's is closest, just across the street. Or if my suspicions are correct, and they usually are, Myers’ partner usually sends in a batch of whatever she’s been whipping up. It's complete luck if there's any left. Oh, and fair warning, it’s rarely anything good for the waistline.” Bette suggested. With a stretch that felt like it temporarily cured her exhaustion, Bette made her way to the briefing room, eyes scanning until she found her prize.

"No idea what she's sent him in with this time… Oh. Pigs in blankets.” she confirmed as she opened the lid.

“She has a sense of humour, then.” Tina quipped, and Bette gave an involuntary chuckle as she offered the container to Tina.

“Help yourself,” 

Bette grabbed two for herself and was already digging in before she'd settled back at her desk. The sudden hunger was too pressing to wait any longer, and she brushed a few pastry crumbs from the surface as she chewed.

“I could eat a dozen of these, they're so good," Tina said, glancing at her notes before wiping her fingers on her trousers. "Porter, how much credibility are you putting in this Michael Jones as a witness?” 

“He’s the only one we’ve got so far,” Bette replied slowly, a little frustration seeping into her voice. "Why, you don't like it?"

Tina shook her head. “It stinks, to be honest. It sounded rehearsed.”

“Why would he approach a cop to give a false account?” Bette questioned.

“I don’t know, maybe he knew Taylor more than he let on, or maybe he wanted to know more about what happened… I'm not really buying it.” Tina mused, her fingers moving across the keyboard as she input Michael Jones' address into the system.

Moments later, she cursed under her breath. "Bust," Tina muttered. "The numbers on that street don’t even go that high." She dialled the number Jones had provided, only to be met with the automated message that the phone number wasn't in service.

Bette wasn't ready to give it up that easily. "I think we should find him. Bring him in to make a statement,"

Tina quickly shook her head. "Waste of time, and resources. We'll never find him… Not everything is going to be a lead," Bette shot her a look, and Tina raised her hands and sighed. "It's your case, though."

"It is my case," Bette agreed, taking the win. "Agree to disagree."

With a shrug, Tina returned her attention to the sheets in front of her, silently acknowledging Bette's decision. As Bette put out a BOLO request for the young male, she had a wave of uneasiness. She wasn't totally confident in it, but she needed to have something in motion. Her head throbbed from the earlier impact, and she absentmindedly massaged her temple, realising she probably hadn't drank any water since this morning either. Without a word, Tina slid a bottle of aspirin across the desk towards her and continued working.

"Oh. Thanks," Bette popped two pills and swallowed them dry. Tina marched over to the copier and returned with a large blank sheet of paper and a red marker pen. With deliberate strokes, she wrote Taylor's name in the centre and circled it.

"Old school," Bette commented. Tina shrugged in response.

"Helps me think. Okay, so we've got Taylor, his workmate - did we get a copy of his statement?" Bette nodded, rolling her chair closer to Tina's side of the desk for a better view. "Taylor worked for Dominic sometimes, so we'll put Dominic on here too -"

"He's dirty," Bette interjected.

"So you keep saying, but for now only confirmed facts are going on this sheet." Tina was firm but encouraging, and as much as Bette respected that, she still didn't see much point in speculating anything else. She suppressed a scoff as Tina continued. "And our 'witness' Michael Jones…Hey, did Taylor have any romantic partners that you know of?"

Bette shook her head. "No, but that doesn't mean there wasn't. No evidence in his apartment to suggest that anyone else was staying there regularly,"

"Okay," Tina held the marker poised momentarily over the page before she put it down again. "And… his connection as a police informant,"

"Yeah," Bette said softly, feeling the guilt returning, worrying that Taylor's death was linked to her pushing him to be an informant. "I thought he was so careful, you know? I can't imagine him telling anyone he was snitching,"

Tina gave her a sympathetic glance. As the evening had progressed, her eyes seemed to deepen in the shadow, the fading daylight leaving them in the glow of fluorescent overhead lights. "There's a possibility it could be unrelated. Chances are if he was mixing with Dominic, he might have been moving through a few bad crowds." Tina offered, her red marker lines forming the beginnings of a map with Taylor at the centre.

"We need to establish a timeline," Bette declared, rubbing her face. She untangled the elastic band from her hair, running her fingers through her thick brunette curls and massaging her scalp in a futile attempt to will the aspirin into action

"I’ll start by calling the take-out places around his apartment, see if I can find any orders placed last night that match what was on his coffee table," Tina offered. Bette was too tired to suggest an alternative.

"Yeah, okay. I'll chase down his bank and transactions. Who knows, we might get lucky," They exchanged a tight smile before settling into their respective tasks. This was the mundane part of detective work that rarely made it into the movies. It wasn't always high-speed chases or breaking down suspects in an interrogation room. Most of the time it was reports, making endless phone calls, and trying to navigate dead ends. As time ticked on, the outside world grew darker, the glow of streetlights beginning to cast faint shadows into the room. Bette let out a frustrated groan as her ear was met once again with the familiar opening bars of the bank's after-hours hold music. She tapped her pen on the desk in rhythm with the melody, exhaustion and stress battling it out for pride of place. Without warning, Tina suddenly reached out and snatched the pen from Bette's hand, tossing it behind her in one swift motion.

Bette froze, her hand still suspended in mid-tap. She glanced up at Tina's irritated expression, silently challenging Bette as she cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder. They locked eyes for a moment before Tina offered an apologetic shrug.

"Sorry," she muttered, momentarily covering the mouthpiece of her phone. Running her hand through her hair again, she pushed the blonde strands away from her face. "I must be getting tired,"

Bette felt a flicker of satisfaction. It seemed that Tina had a breaking point after all, a limit to the long fuse she'd seen all day. Feeling only slightly annoyed rather than deeply frustrated as she had felt most of the day, a smirk played at the corners of Bette's lips, undeterred even by the sixth loop of the hold music. As the evening outside turned completely dark, only a handful of officers lingered, all deep in their own late-night pursuits. Aside from Tina's momentary outburst, there was no sign of her relenting. If she was feeling even a fraction of Bette's exhaustion, she otherwise didn't show it. The words on the screen blurred together, and Bette blinked in an attempt to focus her weary eyes. If Tina wasn't ready to throw in the towel, there was no way Bette was going to do it first.

Chapter Text

The following day had dragged on relentlessly as they had trudged through the neighbourhood surrounding Taylor's apartment. Each taking a side of whichever street they were on, the two detectives had knocked and buzzed at countless doors only to be met with a quick dismissal at best, but more often not even an answer at all. The sun had beat down on them all day, casting harsh shadows that seemed to mock their efforts. Bette had woken up groggy that morning, unsure if she'd even slept at all. After getting home just before midnight and being back at the precinct for 7am, she was operating on semi-autopilot. Tina had arrived just after her, inexplicably looking like she'd had a full night's sleep and a leisurely breakfast before coming in. As the late afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky, they decided to call it quits and head back to the precinct. Their canvassing efforts had yielded little except frustration, leaving them no closer to finding any leads on Taylor's killer. Admittedly, Bette still held strong that Dominic had orchestrated the hit, and had hoped that even one local resident had seen him or one of his associates in the preceding days. So far, they had nothing. Hot, tired and hungry, they returned to the precinct.

"We're missing something here, I can sense it," Bette muttered as they coursed through the corridors.

Tina dabbed at her forehead, moist where sweat had prickled. "Well, there might be nothing to miss, Porter," she retorted. Their light bickering continued as they navigated the building, finally stepping into the bullpen. Buzzing as it always was late in the afternoon, a few heads turned to acknowledge their arrival. Engrossed in their low but heated exchange, Bette grappled to keep her voice at an acceptable level while Tina arched an eyebrow, looking like she was barely listening. Bette paused as she heard a throat clear behind her, and pivoted to see Cavanagh standing a few feet from them. His timing couldn't be worse, seeing them arguing like school children.

"Any updates?" Cavanagh asked, his stern expression fixed on Bette. She straightened, hoping he hadn't detected the tension. 

"Nothing new, boss. Sir," she replied, adding a touch of formality before realising that would be a complete giveaway. 

"Any issues?" He stared directly at Bette for a few moments before turning to Tina. 

"No, sir," they said in unison.

"I want to know everything as it happens, are we clear?" Cavanagh's tone allowed for no argument, eliciting compliant nods from them both. With a curt wave, he dismissed them. As she trailed behind Tina towards their desks, Bette stole a glance back at Cavanagh. He gave her a stern look and nodded towards Tina, urging her to cooperate. Bette forced a smile in response before she turned and caught up with Tina.

"You could have warned me he was right behind me," Bette muttered, exasperated.

"Thought you might've sensed it," Tina said, a smug little smile playing on her lips. Bette rolled her eyes, and clenched her jaw as she tore open the paper bag with her lunch in it. Even if it was sitting in front of her computer, she was glad of the chance to finally eat. Better late than never.

Before they could settle, a forensics tech from downstairs approached, file in hand. "Got the medical examiner's report for you, Taylor case?" he said, leaning over the partition and extending the file to Bette.

Tina reached over from beside her and intercepted it before Bette could react. "I'll take that, thank you,"

Bette bristled again, eyeing Cavanagh's door as Tina began scanning the file. "One bullet removed from the skull, sent off for ballistic analysis," she read aloud, taking a bite from her wrap. "Adhesive residue analysed from left and right wrists… consistent with tape manufactured for domestic or electrical use, well that's not helpful…" She swallowed and cleared her throat as she went on. "Healed fractures in tenth and eleventh ribs… organs normal size and condition for his age and sex-"

"Kennard, either stop skipping over things or let me read it myself," Bette interrupted, wiping the corner of her mouth with a napkin.

"Stomach contents," Tina continued louder, glancing at Bette who was still chewing on her sandwich. "Macroscopic analysis revealed a semi-solid mass with distinct coloration, primarily beige with occasional green and orange particles, suggestive of decomposing plant matter. The texture was homogenised with identifiable fragments of fibrous tissue, likely from decomposing chicken, interspersed within the mixture. The overall appearance and volume of stomach acid indicates early stage of digestion." Bette set her sandwich down with a grimace, pushing it aside.

"Sorry, too much for you while you're eating?" Tina asked, a hint of amusement in her voice as she took another bite.

Bette shrugged nonchalantly. "No, I've just… I'll eat it later," she replied curtly, unwilling to admit any signs of weakness.

Tina shot her a sceptical glance before returning to the report. "In any case, I don't think we're any closer until we get the ballistics report back. That kind of tape is everywhere,"

Bette let out a frustrated grunt, running a hand through her hair. "So we've got nothing,"

A tutting noise came from behind them. "Oh, Daddy's darling striking out again?" Warren's voice dripped as he approached, giving Bette a look of mock sympathy. His aftershave was overpowering, further souring her appetite. Despite his attempt at personal hygiene, the bags under his eyes and five-o'clock shadow lent the impression of an over-friendly drunk at a bar. Tina's expression was as incredulous as Bette's was annoyed.

"Oops! Better not say anything else," Warren looked at Tina and mimed turning a key at his lips, smirking as he went to turn away. "Wouldn't want anything getting written up,"

"How about you go and fuck yourself, Warren," Bette called out after him sharply, ignoring the few heads that turned towards the sound of her voice. "Pig," she muttered. "He thinks he's heir to the throne, but he's never turned over a decent case without terrorising anyone junior to him,"

She glanced over at Tina, who met her eyes with a tight-lipped smile before returning her attention to her screen. Bette found herself lingering on Tina's profile, an inexplicable urge to reassure her tugging at her conscience. Despite their mismatched personalities, Bette couldn't stand the thought of a greasy jerk like Warren getting under Tina's skin with his snide remarks. As Bette wrestled with her own aversion to working alongside Tina and the unexpected solidarity she felt in the wake of Warren's comment, she watched Tina for a reaction. The flicker in Tina's eyes and delicate movement of her long lashes betrayed her awareness of being watched. Bette opened her mouth, unsure of what would come out, but hesitated. Without breaking her gaze from the screen, Tina gave a barely perceptible shake of her head, and Bette understood. Although their dynamic was contentious at best, she had to admit Tina hadn't been impossible to work with. Yes, there was a lack of progress in the case, but that was down to the absence of hard evidence, and Tina's surprising grit had laid down the challenge for her. In the end, she opted for silence, and slid the medical examiner's report from Tina's desk to her own.

**

The following morning, Bette leaned against the cool, tiled wall of the entry corridor, which was always comfortingly quiet at this early hour. Her attention perked as she caught sight of Tina's familiar figure moving through the station entrance. She seemed deep in thought, eyes fixed on the middle distance as her blonde locks swayed gently in time with her stride. Bette stepped forward and raised her hand in a half-wave, a surge of anticipation bubbling beneath the surface. As Tina's eyes lifted to meet hers, a puzzled expression crossed her features before transitioning into a cautious smile. Adjusting her stride to match Tina's, Bette fell into step beside her, gesturing for Tina to enter the locker room as she held the door open for her.

"Morning," Tina offered with a sceptical glance, nodding her thanks. "You seem… chipper,"

"Did you hear?" Bette asked eagerly.

"No, what's up?" Tina responded, adjusting the bag on her shoulder as they rounded the corner. "Ugh, does it always smell like feet in here?"

Bette waved off the question as she struggled to contain a grin. "We got evidence of calls between Taylor and Dominic,"

Tina's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Already? They work quick,"

Bette's enthusiasm wavered, slightly dampened by Tina's reaction. "Well, not really. His burner phone was unlocked, and Dominic was saved as 'Dom' in there. Didn't take a big team of forensics to figure that out," she said, a bit snappily, and immediately regretted her tone. Tina turned her head from her locker to look at Bette, slightly exasperated.

"Sorry," Bette added quickly, raising her hands in apology. "Sorry. Same team,"

Tina nodded in agreement, silently accepting the apology, and continued fastening her jacket. "And?"

"They verified Dominic's number with the service provider, and get this," Bette continued, excitement building again. "The last call between them was on the night he was killed, about an hour before the estimated time of death."

"Shit," Tina breathed out, turning to meet Bette with a conspiratorial grin. Her eyes, despite looking a little tired, lit up and Bette mirrored her expression.

"Yeah, shit." Bette echoed, the adrenaline almost palpable as she bounced lightly on her heels. Tina busied herself in her locker for a few moments, and put her foot up onto the bench to re-tie her boot lace.

"Wait, when did this come in?" Tina asked, looking up at Bette.

"Came up from the basement around six this morning," Bette replied offhandedly, avoiding Tina's hazel eyes. Tina tilted her head, eyebrows raised. Bette turned and with a firm yank opened her own locker, the aged metal door so old and unfunded that the functionality of the combination lock had long worn off. Catching herself in the small mirror on the inside of the door, she tried to tame her unruly curls back towards the bun at the nape of her neck.

"You've been here since six?" Tina asked, incredulous. "Am I supposed to be getting here at six too?"

Bette shrugged, giving a sideways glance at her partner's furrowed brows and wide eyes. She responded, her voice muffled by the hairpin clenched between her teeth. "Honestly, no. I couldn't sleep."

She continued to get ready, resigning herself again to the fact that hair like hers wasn't meant to be tamed. Casting a sidelong glance over at Tina, she shook her head and wondered how she always turned up looking so polished. Blonde hair cascading in short waves around the collar of her neatly pressed shirt, Tina's consistent composure appeared to extend to her wardrobe as well, somehow managing to incorporate femininity and a kind of boyish charm.

"So is it enough for us to call him in for questioning?" Tina closed her locker gently and turned to face Bette, one hand resting on her hip. Bette blinked, her focus returning to the conversation.

"Yep. One of the beats just called his office, see if we can get him to come in voluntarily," She reached to the bottom shelf and pulled out a packet of sour straws, extending them towards Tina.

"Porter, that's great. What a break," Tina replied. She scrunched her face politely at the offer of candy, the light dusting of freckles crinkling on the bridge of her nose. "Too early for me, but thanks."

Bette shrugged and tossed the packet back on the shelf. "Not bad for your third day, right?"

With a playful roll of her eyes, Tina grinned in agreement as her gaze moved to Bette's locker. "Who's that?" she asked, nodding towards the photograph on the inside of the door. Bette followed her line of sight to the picture of her and a golden retriever, taken several years earlier. Hair slightly longer but still as rebellious, she saw her own face glowing back at her, arms wrapped affectionately around the dog's neck. 

"Oh," Bette quietly, feeling a little bashful. She covered it while chewing on the candy. "Sasha. She got to about 13 before she died."

Tina's expression softened. "Oh, I'm sorry. She's cute. I bet she couldn't keep up with you." Bette smiled, pausing to look at the picture once more before clattering the locker shut loudly and exiting alongside Tina. As they walked side by side from the locker room, Bette grappled with the unusual sensation of being partnered with someone new. Trust hadn't quite fully formed between them yet. Bette was inherently guarded, keeping much of herself hidden from most, but she suspected Tina might be feeling the same.

"Any luck with security camera footage around the apartments?" Bette asked as they headed towards the coffee room. The energy in the station was gradually increasing as they weaved through the crowd approaching shift changeover. Bette exchanged nods and quick hellos with people along the way, the hum of the morning chatter rising steadily around them.

Tina shook her head in disappointment. "Nothing as yet. Most of them were smashed in."

"Shocker." Bette quipped, and was reminded of the slight downturn of Tina's expression whenever she said something negative or discouraging. An odd sensation shifted in her stomach, discomfort creeping in.

"But, hopefully, we'll get something soon." Bette mustered a tight smile of encouragement. They shared a brief glance at Bette's strained attempt at positivity, but Tina seemed to appreciate the sentiment nonetheless. She reached for a paper cup beside the coffee pot. "Want one?"

Tina nodded with a chuckle. "I'll try not to knock it out of your hands this time,"

"And I'll try not rip your head off if you do," Bette replied with a grin, the tension between them continuing to ease. "I can't wait to get this asshole," Bette muttered as she passed the drink to Tina.

"You have much history writing this guy up?"

"Not personally," Bette admitted. "I've brought him in for questioning before, but he's slippery. Always wriggles his way out of formal charges. Still, I've dug so deeply into his operation. He's like a fucking stain on this city, seeping into all the cracks. Problem is, nobody wants to talk. Can't blame them, though. He seems to somehow have leverage on everyone," she explained, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Well, let's see if we can finally nail him on this, at least."

"I was working on getting Taylor to make a statement, and I don't know, maybe testifying in the future. He was scared, though. Bastard," she added, thinking about Taylor's cold execution as they left the cafeteria. Her ruminations were cut short at the sight of Olivia approaching.

"Porter, did you even leave the precinct last night?" Olivia pulled at her eyes in a mock imitation of Bette's appearance.

"Did you?" Bette retorted as they passed each other and exchanged a grin. 

"Lunch later?" Olivia turned to ask.

"Sure Liv, my desk or yours?" Bette scoffed.

Olivia hesitated briefly before acknowledging Tina with a simple "Morning, Kennard," prompting Tina to return the greeting as they made their way into the briefing room. Bette settled into her usual seat at the morning briefing and gestured for Tina to sit beside her. The room was filled with the usual murmuring until Cavanagh opened the briefing, discussing a slew of reports that had come in about several cars being broken into and burgled. Bette's thoughts kept drifting back to Dominic, potentially already waiting downstairs to be questioned. Tina nudged her, offering a container of blueberry muffins that were being passed around. She took one, giving silent thanks to Myers' wife as she bit into her breakfast. As soon as Cavanagh closed the briefing, she quickly rose from her seat to avoid the bottle-neck of foot traffic at the door, Tina following her closely as she jogged down the stairs. 

The pair passed through the hall into the anteroom where Dominic and another man, presumably his lawyer, could be seen through the one-way glass, looking impatient. Bette steadied herself, looking at the man she'd been chasing a conviction for over the better part of the last few years.
She squared her shoulders and started towards the door. "Let's do this,"

"Wait a second," Tina put her hand lightly on Bette's arm, stopping her. "Let him squirm a bit."

Bette turned, arching an eyebrow at Tina. Not so by-the-book after all, she mused. Before she could reply, they were interrupted by a knock on the door where a beat cop, Jackson, wanted Tina's attention.

"What's up?" Tina asked, pivoting towards the hall. Bette lifted her chin in greeting, and Jackson gave a small wave.

"We tried to trace Taylor with the residential footage and traffic cameras - got as far as him turning onto Swan Street, but we lost him after that."

"Thank you, great work." Jackson looked slightly confused at the praise, but reset his expression quickly as Tina continued. "Think you and your partner could head over to Swan Street? Show Taylor's photo around, see if anyone recognises him or remembers seeing him. Check out any buildings with security cameras there, we might get lucky." 

Jackson nodded, and Tina thanked him again before turning back to the business at hand. Bette tilted her head at Tina, impressed that years of service hadn't seemed to dull her kindness, and flashed a rare, full smile at her partner.

"Good idea, Detective," Bette offered. Tina returned the smile, gathered up her notepad and file, and motioned towards the next room.

"Let's get this over with," Tina said as she held the door open for her.

The interrogation room was silent Bette and Tina entered, and both Dominic and his lawyer shifted in their seats. His dark hair was meticulously styled, a few grey hairs glinting under the harsh overhead lights. Dominic's smirk twisted Bette's insides, but she set her irritation aside, focused.

"Mr. Dominic," Bette greeted with forced civility. "Thank you for joining us."

Dominic leaned back in his chair, both his expensive suit and arrogance on full display. "Detective Porter, always a pleasure to indulge in our little chats," he replied with a hint of sarcasm.

Ignoring his tone, Bette took a seat opposite him, her expression steely as she glanced across at the bored looking lawyer. "Well, I'll try not to waste too much of your time. Tell me," she started, lifting a page of the file in front of her. It was mostly for show - she knew everything about this case backwards and forwards. "What is your connection to Kyle Taylor?"

"Taylor? Just another face in the crowd, Detective," Dominic replied smoothly. "Anything else?"

Bette suppressed an eye-roll as Tina leaned forward, her voice cutting through the tension. "Interesting choice of words. Care to elaborate on your 'connection' with this particular face?"

Dominic smiled tightly, a glint of amusement flickering in his eyes as he appraised Tina, seemingly sizing her up. The air conditioner hummed as he took his time answering her question. "Merely a professional relationship, Detective. Mr. Taylor occasionally did some odd contracting and delivery jobs for my logistics company."

Bette's jaw tightened, her patience beginning to thin. "Odd jobs? Is that what you call it?"

"Believe whatever you want, Detective. But in the spirit of not wasting too much time, I'll get straight to the point, in that Mr. Taylor's unfortunate demise has nothing to do with me,"

"So you already know he was found dead two days ago?" Bette was getting more annoyed.

"Didn't think I would hazard a guess at why you called me in here?" Dominic scoffed. "I hear a lot of things in my line of work. Very unfortunate, as I said. He was, for the most part, a reliable worker,"

Tina shot Bette a warning glance as she opened her mouth to snap back, silently urging her to rein it in. "We have evidence to suggest that he was in contact with you on the night of his death. Could you please elaborate on the nature of that contact?" Tina interjected.

Dominic's expression faltered, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. "I spoke to Mr. Taylor briefly, yes. Just discussing some upcoming job opportunities. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"And what, he said something you didn't want to hear?" Bette muttered loudly. She felt Tina shift slightly in the seat next to her, the only sign of her patience wilting.

"Can you confirm your whereabouts three nights ago?" Tina continued with the questioning, leaning forwards with her pen poised.

Dominic's smirk widened as he turned his attention and spoke directly to Bette. "Ah, the million-dollar question. Unfortunately for you, Detectives, your suspicions are once again misplaced. I was at the theatre with my wife, surrounded by witnesses."

"Interesting, Dominic, because our sources suggest otherwise. Witnesses placing you near the building where Taylor's body was found shortly afterward," Bette declared boldly, even though their witness, Michael Jones, remained elusive and unverified. But at this point, she didn't care about the details. She wanted Dominic to crack, to confess to the crime she was certain he was responsible for.

Dominic's lawyer attempted to intervene, but was silenced with a dismissive wave of Dominic's hand, his gaze piercing through Bette like a knife. "You know what I find interesting, Detective? I'm an innocent man operating a legitimate business, but you are still just so fixated on proving that I'm a criminal. Perhaps the good folk here at Riverbank should be looking at their own role in Mr. Taylor's death,"

"I think that's enough," the lawyer attempted to intervene once more, his chair scraping against the floor as he made to rise to his feet. Dominic stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder, his eyes never leaving Bette's. She felt her body go rigid, coiled like a spring ready release. 

Leaning in closer, Dominic lowered his voice as he spoke. "You know, rumour has it that Mr. Taylor was working as an informant for the police. And yet, here we are, with him lying cold in a morgue. Makes you wonder, doesn't it?"

He rose from his seat, completely composed as Bette glared at him. "I'll show myself out, presuming I'm free to go. Have a wonderful day, Detectives," he taunted as the two men made their exit. The door clicked quietly behind him.

Tina blew out a long breath through puffed cheeks and tapped her pen against the table before she turned to Bette. Rooted to her chair, Bette's fists clenched in frustration while her chest was heavy with Dominic's accusation. Had she been the reason that Taylor had been killed so coldly? She had tried to reassure herself over the last few days that Taylor had understood the risk of being a police informant, and that she wasn't responsible for a murder that was so obviously orchestrated by Dominic. But to hear it said aloud made the possibility all the more tangible. Her heart beat rapidly against her chest, and she felt a cool sweat form between her shoulder blades. A few moments of thick silence passed before Tina spoke.

"He's a piece of fucking work, isn't he? I'll check out his alibi - where are you going?" Tina asked, slight surprise in her voice. But Bette was already on her feet, her movements sharp and determined. Ignoring Tina's question, she stormed out of the interrogation room, the noise in her mind too blaringly loud for the small space.

In the locker room, Bette leaned against the wall underneath the window, working to steady her breath and racing thoughts. The weight of her uniform suddenly felt like a suffocating lead coat. Grunting, she tore off her outer shirt, hurling it against a nearby locker before kicking it for good measure. Standing for a solid minute, she felt herself calming in the company of only concrete walls, her breathing slowing. The quiet opening of the locker room door broke through the silence. Bette braced herself for the inevitable approach of her investigation partner, wishing she would just give her some time to steady herself.

"Hey, are you okay? You were right about him - he's as slimy as they come. So damn arrogant. You can practically smell the guilt on him," Tina's voice was tinged with concern.

Bette fixed her gaze out of the small window above, eyes upward to prevent tears of frustration pooling. "He knows something, alright. He probably watched Taylor's execution himself, stood there as they pulled the trigger."

"Look, I get it - he's dirty. But we need evidence, something concrete, before we can make any formal allegations," Tina reasoned. "If he's guilty, we'll get him."

"Why did you do that?" Bette rounded on Tina, her voice sharp and clear. 

Tina paused, looking perplexed. She tilted her head, a few blonde threads coming loose. "Do what?"

"You basically hijacked my interview. Dominic was my suspect, my lead," Bette snapped.

Tina's expression hardened, but her hazel eyes remained soft. "Someone had to keep a level head in there. You were all over the place, Porter. I couldn't just sit there and watch you sabotage our investigation because of your personal vendetta with this guy, as warranted as that may be."

"Well thanks all the same but I don't need your interference. I'm the lead on this case, and I don't need some outsider micromanaging my every move," Bette retorted. She squared her stance, facing Tina head on.

Tina's brows twitched at the mention of her being an outsider, but she wasn't going to back down. "You were the one losing your cool, not me. You need to keep a lid on this, otherwise we'll be going nowhere fast, and it will eat at you," Tina said firmly. She shifted her weight, hands hanging loosely by her sides. "And that's on you, not me,"

Bette's blood was boiling, the familiar wildfire of indignation taking over. How dare she march into this precinct, her sanctuary, and try to lecture her on investigation tactics and emotional control? "You don't know a damn thing about me," she hissed, seething. She shook her head and looked briefly to the ceiling before bringing her eyes back down, boring into Tina's.

"Maybe not, but I -"

Bette cut her off. "And I hope you never do. You're just a washed-up whistleblower who couldn't stomach it at your old precinct, too ashamed to stay." Bette lashed out, unable to stop the barbed words tumbling from her mouth.

A disbelieving scoff escaped Tina's lips. For the first time, Bette witnessed genuine shock and hurt in Tina's eyes. The words hung heavy in the air, Bette's harshness leaving a bitter taste in both their mouths. With a disappointed shake of her head Tina turned and walked away, leaving Bette alone with growing regret, and dismay at her own cruelty. She knew she had crossed a line, but the frustration and bitterness had erupted from somewhere deep inside, and she had no hope of clawing it back in. Bette closed her eyes, and drew in a shaky breath before calling out after Tina.

"Kennard - Tina, wait. Wait! I'm sorry, that was too far," She walked along the lockers, following Tina's path, but was met with the door quietly swinging closed.

Chapter Text

Staring out the window, the low hum of the diner provided a backdrop to Bette's dark thoughts. The streaky glass framed the world outside, moving along while she felt stagnant. With her half-eaten bagel sitting untouched, Bette picked at its side, a purchase borne more out of habit than hunger. After eventually deciding to go after Tina, she had been met with Jackson waiting outside, ready to deliver the news that he had finally found their witness, Michael Jones. She had a brief flicker of excitement before he delivered another blow - Jones had been paid off to give a false witness statement, and hadn't even been near the scene at the time of the homicide. 

"Paid off by who?" Bette had demanded hotly. Jackson wilted under the force of her anger, quietly explaining that Jones couldn't identify his benefactor. According to Jones, a man in a hood and dark glasses had approached him late on the night of the murder, offering half the cash upfront and promising the location of the rest on delivery of the fabricated statement. Jackson's apology had sat heavily between them before he made his way down the hall to write Jones up for giving false testimony. Left alone in the hallway, Bette stood rigid, fists clenched as her frustration threatened to boil over.

Her phone buzzed insistently in her pocket, a string of missed calls from Cavanagh on the screen. He had been chasing her for an update, and was now likely about to rip into her about putting resources into finding a lead that was weak at best. Ignoring the call, she shoved the phone back into her pocket, allowing it to continue its persistent vibration against her thigh.

It felt like everything was falling apart - Taylor was dead, Cavanagh wanted results, and Riley wasn't there to help. Nearly a week had passed with no progress, except for a useless witness and a failed suspect interrogation. The case had stagnated, and her altercation with Tina had left her feeling defeated and ashamed.

In that moment, she resented herself - the potential camaraderie with Tina was in reach, but Bette did what she had always done when anyone tried to help her - push them away, afraid to be vulnerable. In a fit of anguish, she had stormed out of the precinct and across the street into Peyton's, unsure of exactly what she needed, except for a face that wouldn't look at her with the hurt that Tina had.

Her father's temper and temperament had driven her mother away, and she saw similarities in her own behaviour that made her stomach turn. She dreaded becoming like him; close-minded and irritable in his solitary retirement, unable to deviate from monotonous routine. The coffee in front of her had cooled, a film forming around the rim of the cup. Bette felt dejected and a little embarrassed now the heat of her reaction had worn off, fleeing the precinct and spending an hour and a half at the diner like a child avoiding punishment. She couldn't bring herself to face Tina or anyone else yet. The memory of Tina's pained expression lingered, stinging like a nettle long after the initial impact.

A flurry of movement outside brought her back into the present as a woman moved past, walking a sweet looking greyhound. A pang of envy struck her as she watched them, briefly imagining a more simple life as a dog-walker. Dogs were uncomplicated creatures, their loyalty unwavering, their needs simple. No responsibilities weighing on her shoulders, no lives hanging in the balance of her decisions. 

The creak of the door in the background drew Bette's attention, her chin propped in her hand. Without lifting her head, she peered through her lashes to see a familiar blonde figure sliding into the booth opposite her. Graceful but commanding, Tina always seemed to carry a confidence that gently radiated from her. Despite the warmth in her eyes, Bette was unsure if she was in for a conversation of a verbal barrage. She returned her gaze to her cold coffee. Despite the unpleasant taste she took a sip, sighing audibly in resignation. Raising her eyes again, chin still cradled in her hand, she and Tina exchanged a silent conversation, expressions speaking volumes. As the waitress approached, Tina ordered herself a coffee and leaned back in her seat.

"Here to gloat?" Bette mumbled bitterly as she pushed her bagel around the plate. Tina had warned her against chasing Jones, and she had been right.

"Please, I'm not that petty," she retorted, her lips twitching into a tight smile. "Have you cooled off?"

Bette's shoulders slumped in resignation, her gaze shifting back to the window. She noticed the streaky lines left by the window cleaner, an unwelcome reflection on the messiness she had caused.

"Listen, I'm sorry I acted like an ass," she started.

"Yep." Tina replied bluntly. She wasn't going to make this easy, something that equally frustrated and impressed Bette. Tina never shied away from holding her accountable, no matter how uncomfortable it might be.

“And… you didn't deserve that. It was a cheap shot.” The words tasted like vinegar coming out, but there was a small humility in owning her actions.

“Really cheap. You’re smarter than that,” Tina replied. A palpable silence settled between them. Bette stole a glance at Tina, feeling a roll in her stomach with the realisation of how much she meant her apology. She wouldn't blame Tina if she couldn't accept it, but the thought of losing her respect on top of everything else was a weight too heavy to bear.

"I just... not to excuse what I said, because there is no excuse. But," Bette began, her voice trailing off as she wrestled with her thoughts. How much should she reveal? How much could she trust Tina with? Ultimately, she decided that if Tina was willing to show up for her, then maybe she deserved a glimpse into the turmoil. "I just... I don't know if I can handle this. Taylor, Riley, Dominic," she admitted. Tina watched on attentively, waiting for her to continue. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm not sure how to operate without Riley. I think he balanced me, in a way."

"I can understand that. Must be some kind of bond between you two," Tina said, a hint of curiosity in her voice. Bette wrinkled her nose in amusement, dismissing the notion with a weak grin.

"Not like that, what are you twelve?" she retorted, and Tina gave a nonchalant shrug. Bette shook her head. "And on top of everything feeling like it's gone to hell, I've got a hunch I'm about to get my ass whooped by Cavanagh."

Tina listened intently, her expression thoughtful. "Well, it's up to you to decide about continuing the case. I'm not going to make the choice for you. And don't worry about Cavanagh," she added. "He just read me the riot act as I was leaving to come here."

Bette groaned, feeling guilty at the idea of Tina bearing the brunt of Cavanagh's irritation because of her. She rubbed her face wearily and looked at Tina, silently acknowledging the situation. Her mind drifted to Tina's own experiences and challenges, feeling a quiver of guilt at her own self-absorption. Sometimes she feared her focus was too narrow, her perspective too confined.

"Why are you here?" Bette asked, going in for another sip of coffee before deciding against it. Tina's expression turned grim, her blonde hair catching in the sunlight as she gestured across the street

"Because I don't know how to use the coffee machine back at the station, and nobody will show me," Tina replied.

Bette scoffed, her brown curls bouncing slightly with the motion, but she couldn't fight the small grin that tugged at the corners of her lips. Tina responded with a lopsided smile, her hazel eyes reflecting a hint of humour.

“Well, have you asked anyone?”

"I don't think they're quite ready for small talk with the outsider," Tina admitted, her eyes drifting to the tabletop.

Bette's expression softened. "I don't think you've been given enough credit. Walking into a new place, to a cold audience. It must be hard."

"Of course it's hard," Tina acknowledged with a shrug. "I came from a station just like yours, you know. Tight-knit, grew up together. And I… pulled the stitching out, left them completely unravelled. And on top of that, I'm the one who has to start somewhere new."

Bette nodded. "There are a lot of… rumours."

"Well, it's not all rumours," Tina admitted sombrely. "But I'm not about to give a presentation to everyone and justify what happened."

"And you shouldn't have to," Bette replied with conviction.

"You never asked me," Tina pointed out. Bette raised her eyebrows and shrugged.

"Figured if you wanted to tell me, you would."

"I just guessed you weren't interested," Tina replied, teasing but not unkind.

Bette scoffed once more. "You thought I was too self-centred to care,"

"Aren't you?" Tina baited, her chuckle echoing in the quiet of the diner, the tension between them easing even further.

"No, I'm not," Bette replied sincerely. "I just… I didn't want to ask. I don't get caught up in office politics. And honestly, if there's any truth to it, it's probably something you'd rather forget. It's not what I'd want to be known for in a new place."

They lapsed into silence once more, the waitress interrupting their thoughts as she refilled their drinks. It was a comfortable silence, one that Bette found herself sinking into as she watched Tina tuck her blonde hair behind her ear, the sunlight casting its golden glow upon her. Bette stared, wondering how the sun seemed to weave through her hair, illuminating every strand with a thousand shades of light. She snapped out of her thoughts when Tina drew in a breath and cleared her throat gently.

"It was my partner," Tina began, slow and measured. Bette straightened in her seat, the worn leather of the booth creaking beneath her.

"We'd worked together almost three years. I trusted him, he knew every thought I was going to have before I had it. I think you know what I mean," Tina continued, her eyes distant. Bette nodded in understanding.

"Anyway, he'd been acting a little… weird. I didn't know if it was because he'd just had a baby, or if there were problems at home, he never said. His work started getting… sloppy, I guess. I tried to pick up the slack as much as I could. But he would start disappearing in the middle of an investigation, or making secretive phone calls. At first, he brushed off my concerns, saying it was nothing. But then he got mean. Told me to stay out of it, almost threatening me," Tina recounted, her brow knotted in sadness.

"So you reported him?" Bette asked.

"Not at first. I should have, might have saved myself a lot of problems," Tina replied thoughtfully, eyes clouded with regret. "I followed him. After work, we'd say our goodbyes, and I'd tail him for a few hours. Just to see what he was up to. I don't know, maybe I should have handled it differently. I caught him meeting up with some really shady characters, saw some cash changing hands. I couldn't believe it. I think I was in shock for about a week, so I followed him most nights just to make sure. I made a lot of excuses for him in my head, maybe he was doing some undercover work I didn't know about, maybe he was working a civilian, I don't know." Tina drew in a long sip before she continued. "Long story short, he was peddling drugs and selling them to the highest bidder. He was skimming from suspects, the evidence room, even from the bodies and homes of homicide victims."

Bette was stunned. She wasn't naïve; she knew that corruption was rife in a lot of law enforcement environments. But putting herself in Tina's shoes, imagining what she would do in her position, made her shudder.

"Shit. So then you reported him?"

Tina gave a wry smile and shook her head. "Worse. I confronted him. I thought I could help him get out of whatever mess he was in."

"Oh, Kennard…" Bette began, and Tina shrugged. "I probably would have done the same, if that's any comfort."

"I did what I did. Anyway, he lost it. Threatened to report me for stalking or whatever. I think that's when I knew I had to speak to someone. So I reported him. It was a mess, like I ripped a hole in the fabric of everyone's reality. Some supported me, most hated me, some even said it was me who was guilty, and that I was trying to frame him. It broke my heart, the whole thing. I had to testify in front of him, his wife, half of the Elmridge police force. I thought about quitting, you know," she said sadly. Bette could relate. When everything seemed against her, she wanted to run too.

"But I love this job. It's all I've ever wanted to do, and I'm good at it," she said as she drained her coffee. "So, I put in for a transfer, packed myself up. Left my house, my neighbourhood… the lot."

"Just you on your own?"

"No strings, I guess. Made it easier - not having any kids, pets, or any kind of romantic life to bring with me," Tina shrugged. Bette realised it was slowly becoming apparent that she and Tina had a lot more in common in their lives than she originally thought.

"What a fucking nightmare," Bette said. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

"Well, I don't think I could have lived with myself if I let it keep happening. Cops get a bad rap, and most of the time it's for good reason. But I needed to see that there was still some good, you know?"

"I think I get what you mean," Bette said. "So that's the story."

"That's my story, I guess. Not as salacious as people would like to believe, I'm sure," Tina continued. "And this case, it's important to me too, you know. Being new here, with whatever reputation has come along with me. I need a good case under my belt. They don't trust me yet. Honestly, I don't really trust anyone yet either. The only person I trust is you. You're hard to swallow, but you're loyal, that much I can tell."

Trying not to look too surprised at the compliment, Bette considered what Tina was saying about reputation, that the whistleblowing incident was her story.

"I don't think it's your story, maybe just a slice of it. I'm sure there's more to you than that," Bette said simply. 

Bette watched as Tina laid her hands on the table, long pale fingers spread like wings. "Maybe so," Tina said with a smile. "You going to be okay?"

"Me?" Bette scoffed. "I'm a stubborn ass with a bad temper. And I'm not saying that because I'm proud of it, because I'm not, but I want you to know that I know." Tina watched her with a slightly amused expression, as if she knew opening up was a struggle for Bette. "I think especially after everyone watched me go through a hard time a few years ago, I sort of felt like they knew too much - they had seen me too vulnerable. And that since then I've had something to prove, whether it was nailing my cases, or acting tougher and more confident than I really felt…"

Tina tilted her head curiously, prompting Bette to go on. "My fiancée left me," Bette explained. "Mostly because of the job. She couldn't handle my constant absence, and my lack of presence even when I was there. One night, I came home from work, and she was waiting for me, bags packed. She told me she was leaving, and then she was gone. My whole world crumbled in about six minutes."

Tina nodded slowly, her eyes sympathetic. Bette waved off her pity and continued. "Old news now. But ever since then, I've just felt like I needed to prove myself in one way or another. And now… I can't shake the feeling that we were finally finding our rhythm together, and I'm worried I've ruined it," Bette confessed, feeling a blush creeping up her cheeks, her confidence faltering.

With a smirk, Tina shook her head. "You haven't ruined it, Porter. You're a pain in the ass, you speak before you think, and you roll your eyes so much I'm surprised they're still in your head," Tina earned a bashful grin from Bette as she listed off her flaws. "I know I'm not Riley. But maybe that's not a bad thing. We could be good together... on this case," Tina added quickly.

Bette's stomach twisted nervously as she met Tina's gaze. They held each other's eyes for a moment, sharing a tentative smile before Tina's phone interrupted the moment. As Tina answered the call, Bette took a moment to compose herself, adjusting her posture and finishing her drink.

"Ballistics report is in," Tina announced after hanging up, lounging back in her chair with a lazy smile. "You ready to head back?"

Bette nodded, rising from her seat and tossing some change onto the table before they made their way into the sweltering heat outside. Walking side by side, they fell into a comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts. As they crossed the street, Bette reached out, gently placing her hand on Tina's arm. Tina turned to her touch, prompting Bette to speak.

"I just wanted to..." Bette began, her words trailing off uncertainly. "Thank you," she said softly. Tina simply nodded, understanding the sentiment.

Back at the station, Bette braced herself for whatever was coming her way as she entered, but surprisingly everything seemed just about normal. Olivia gave her a quick chin lift in greeting, leaving Bette unsure whether she had caught wind of the earlier events. They settled into their seats, and Tina pulled up the ballistics report onto the dusty screen. Leaning in beside Tina, Bette's eyes swept over the text.

The bullet, extracted from Taylor's skull, had the indisputable markings of a 0.40 caliber GuardianPierce, from the Winchester Ranger Series. As Bette absorbed the information, she frowned in confusion.

Faint traces of lead residue on the surface, consistent with the composition of duty ammunition commonly used from 1980 to 1993. Upon examination of the recovered bullet from the victim, it has been determined that it exhibits characteristics consistent with those distributed for firearms commonly issued to law enforcement personnel during that era.

"I'm really fucking confused," Bette declared.

"Were those bullets ever used here?" Tina asked, leaning back from the screen.

"No idea… Definitely not now, we have forty-five calber Bull rounds. Funding cuts," Bette explained and they shared a knowing glance. She leaned in again, reading aloud. "Distinct rifling marks consistent with Colt Sentinel handgun,"

"A Colt Sentinel? God, I haven't seen one of those in years," Tina said.

"My mom had one…" Olivia piped up from over the partition.

Bette gave a tight smile. "My dad, too. I think it's still in storage somewhere,"

"Must be some kind of relic from the nineties. Like our parents," Olivia joked before returning her attention to her screen.

"So how do you know for sure it's that weapon?" Jackson asked, suddenly hovering behind them. 

"Certain firearms can leave unique markings on the bullets because of the design of their barrels, or their firing mechanisms," Bette explained absentmindedly. "Ballistics have obviously worked their magic and matched this up, but I can't make sense of it to be honest. Why would our perp be using a weapon and bullets from the last century?"

The two detectives were quiet once more as they read over the report again, Tina diligently taking notes while they sat in close proximity, shoulders almost touching as they leaned towards the screen. A flicker of frustration crossed Tina's face, and she ran her hand through her hair once more. Bette's gaze drifted to her profile, the delicate point of Tina's nose highlighted by the light from the screen. A deep sigh from over the partition broke her reverie, and she raised her eyes across the desk.

"You okay Liv? You seem swamped," Bette asked.

"Warren's called out sick," Olivia replied. "Just trying to pick up the slack, but it's a mess,"

Bette frowned, recalling Warren's worn-out appearance from the day before. "Again? Although he did seem a little off yesterday. More off than usual, I mean." 

Olivia rolled her eyes, and Bette gave her a sympathetic glance. "And to think, my dad always spoke so highly of Warren's father. It's still hard to believe his son would end up being the slimiest jerk in this building."

Tina gently nudged Bette's leg, drawing her attention. "Look here," she began as she pointed to the background search she had pulled up. "GuardianPierce ammunition was the standard issue for law enforcement in this state from 1988 to 1993." Her finger moved over the screen, tracing the details. "They've cropped up as evidence in a few scenes since then, mostly linked to gang activity. But not for at least ten years before now,"

Bette nodded thoughtfully, absorbing the information. "It's possible they were pilfered and circulated on the streets since then. Do you think we can reach out to the manufacturer? Find out who else they supplied after their contract with law enforcement ended? There's something off about this,"

Tina's nod was resolute as one hand reached for her phone, the other already switching screens and searching for contact details. "On it," she said, determined.

Bette turned to Jackson, who was lingering nearby, and asked about updates on Taylor's movements since Swan Street. Jackson shook his head, his response lacklustre at best. "That place is a real shit hole. I've been flooded with those vehicle burglaries for the last two days."

"It is a bit of a dump around there," Bette agreed, her attention briefly diverted as Tina covered the mouthpiece of her phone, suggesting a potential lead. "Do you think you could check with the break-in victims on Swan Street? See if anyone has any doorbell camera footage? We might catch Taylor lurking in the background. It's a long shot, but it might give us something,"

Bette grinned, admiring Tina's quick thinking. Meanwhile, Jackson appeared visibly uncomfortable, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to articulate something. Bette waved her hand between them. "Spit it out, Jackson. What is it?"

"Um… Capt - Cavanagh said I've been pulled off your service," Jackson stammered, his face flushing pink. Avoiding Bette's steely gaze, he continued. "He mentioned something about resources, especially with all the break-ins happening…"

Bette felt her temper rise again, but she suppressed it, knowing it wouldn't solve anything. Disappointment flooded her as she dismissed him. "It's fine, Jackson. Not your fault. I'll see you later,"

As Jackson hurried off looking relieved, she couldn't shake the thought that maybe this was Cavanagh's retribution for involving the beat cops in chasing down Jones - a lead that led, well, nowhere. With Jackson sidelined, their resources had dwindled to just the two of them. The last thing they needed was less bodies to do the leg-work on an investigation where they had made almost no progress, aside from potentially tipping Dominic off that they had almost no evidence against him.

Tina ended her call and turned towards Bette, her expression immediately registering concern. "I don't like the look of that face," she said. Bette went on to explain Jackson's removal from their case, and Tina swore.

"Not much progress with the manufacturer either," Tina countered, picking at the keyboard in front of her. Bette echoed Tina's sentiment with a muttered curse of her own. "But someone will get back in touch with me, apparently. God, I need a drink,"

"If I had a dollar for every time I said that, I'd be a rich woman," Bette replied, a wry smile playing on her lips. They shared a quiet chuckle before Bette shifted the conversation. "Speaking of drinks, are you coming to Cav's party Sunday night?" she asked, knowing Tina would have received the email invitation earlier in the week.

"I hadn't thought about it to be honest. It may be a bit soon for socialising," Tina admitted hesitantly.

Bette waved off her concerns. "Nonsense, it might be just the thing you need. Get to know the rat pack outside of the cage," 

Tina scrunched her nose "I don't know, Porter,"

Bette persisted. "Come on. His wife throws an amazing party and the drinks are on the house. He's been here for thirty years, hell knows how, but we have to celebrate the small things when we can."

She watched as Tina cast her gaze across the room to her colleagues, still seemingly undecided. "They're not a bad bunch, I promise. Let them get to know you," Bette added, nudging Tina's knee with her own.

"I'll think about it," Tina said reluctantly.

"That's a yes, then," Bette declared, face beaming with optimism.

"Are you always so pushy?" Tina laughed incredulously. "Actually, don't bother answering that,"

"You might enjoy yourself, why don’t you think about that," Bette suggested. Rolling her eyes playfully, Tina returned her focus to her screen as Bette wheeled herself back to her desk, a satisfied smile firmly set on her features.

**

Bette's morning ritual unfolded like clockwork in the confines of her home. The soft glow of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting warm shadows over her space as she prepared for another day. The silence of the early morning had always soothed her, the untouchable promise of the day at sunrise. After a quick shower, she brushed her teeth mechanically, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of Tina as she stared back at her own reflection. It was strange how Tina had lingered in her mind, a mix of admiration and curiosity now positioned where the irritation and hostility had been before. Unable to quite pinpoint whether it was the grace Tina had shown her, or the revelation about her past that had left Bette intrigued, she moved through the routine of switching off the lights and locking up. She stopped at a nearby deli, the aroma of freshly baked bagels drawing her in. With a grumbling stomach protesting the early hour, she quickly ordered and collected before heading back out to the street, determined to push aside the tiredness.

As Bette entered the precinct, she clocked Tina already at her desk, as always the picture of freshness despite the early hour. Her attention wavered as she caught the faint scent of some kind of herbal shampoo coming from Tina, before she composed herself and smiled wearily at her partner.

"Morning," Tina said warmly.

"And to you. Early start?" Bette asked.

"Yeah," Tina replied with a nod, lifting her shoulders slightly. "Couldn't sleep,"

"Ballistics kept you up too, huh?" Bette perched on the edge of Tina's desk, and held out a small paper bag. "Here,"

Tina looked momentarily puzzled as she took the bag, peeking inside at the bagel. "Oh! Thank you," she replied, her smile infectious as her face lit up.

Bette felt a fizz of satisfaction seeing Tina's response, a blush spreading inside her chest as she witnessed Tina's grin. Watching Tina bite into the bagel, Bette found herself drawn to the simple sight. She couldn't deny that she got a little kick out of seeing Tina’s smile now,  noticing something new every time. This morning, it was the slight dip of a dimple resting just beside the corner of her mouth. It was a feeling she couldn't quite place - was it just relief that they weren't at each other's throats anymore? A quiet voice told her she already knew the answer, but she hushed it. The thought lingered at the edge of her mind, unspoken and unexplored. Bette stared at a small dab of cream cheese left on her lower lip, fighting the irrational urge to reach out and wipe it off.

"I think we've got something," Tina's voice pulled Bette from her thoughts. She straightened up, her focus sharp. 

"What?"

"A partial print," Tina replied, still chewing on the last remnants of her bagel.

Bette set her coffee cup down slowly, anticipation rising on par with a little irritation. "Why didn't you call me? From where?"

Tina swallowed before responding, her tone cautiously optimistic. "Just came to me now. From a keychain in Taylor's pocket. It might not be much, but it's more than what we've got so far."

"How..." Bette started, but Tina didn't let her finish.

"The partial belongs to a Lee Hamilton. No record, but he was printed back in 2019, for exclusionary purposes when his workplace was burgled."

"No priors?" Bette asked, her mind racing, trying to place the name but nothing was coming up for her. While she never claimed to know every criminal in the city, there were a few well-known characters that had been around the tracks a little.

Tina shook her head, her expression serious. Bette noticed that she had wiped the cream cheese from her lip at some point during their conversation. "None."

"Where was the burglary? I mean, where's his workplace?"

"RJ Pawn Brokers, on -" Tina started.

"Masons Road," they said simultaneously, causing Tina to look at Bette with confusion.

"You know it?" Tina asked excitedly.

Bette nodded slowly, her brow furrowed in thought. "Yeah, but I'm not sure why it's ringing a bell."

"I looked it up, nothing remarkable about it. Couldn't dig up anything on a Lee Hamilton. However, I did stumble upon a record for a Liam Hamilton, matching the description we have. His rap sheet is mainly traffic violations, sprinkled with some disorderly conduct and misdemeanour assault."

Bette's excitement grew at the prospect of a potential breakthrough. She shot Tina an enthusiastic grin. "This is promising, Tina. Really." Her expression shifted slightly. "Well, not so much about Liam Hamilton. He sounds like a real peach," she added wryly. "Probably gave a little deviation to his name when reporting that burglary, I'd guess,"

With a determined click, Bette logged into her computer, her attention divided between the partial print and the nagging familiarity of the pawnbrokers. Her stomach rumbled again, reminding her of the neglected breakfast sitting nearby. Bette cast a fleeting glance at her untouched meal, figuring it could wait. 

"How did they manage to send back that partial print so late?" she asked. Tina winced slightly in response.

"I filed a request for a re-analysis of his personal effects," Tina admitted.

Bette let out a low whistle, impressed again by Tina's audacity. It was common knowledge that requesting a forensic department to re-do their work was a surefire way to earn a spot in the bad books.

"Yeah, I know," Tina said with a grimace. "I'll be persona non grata forever. But I just couldn't believe that there wasn't a single useful print at that scene, and as it turns out, I was right."

"Bold move," Bette replied with a chuckle as the screen in front of her flickered to life, displaying the search results.

"Shit, Tina, that's why it sounded familiar. RJ Pawn Brokers - one of Dominic's suspected money laundering spots," Bette exclaimed, slamming her hand on the table. "Tina, you're a genius!" They exchanged a glance, cheeks flushing with excitement, both buzzing with adrenaline.

"Think it's enough to bring him in?" Tina asked eagerly, rising to her feet.

Bette scoffed. "You mean finding a partial print of his on a homicide victim, him supposedly working at RJ Pawn Brokers, which is basically a known money laundering joint? It's definitely enough to pay him a visit. Let's go. You drive,"

"Are you finally learning to share?" Tina teased, snatching the keys from Bette's outstretched hand.

"Don't kid yourself. I need both hands to eat this bagel," Bette replied with a smirk as she snatched the bag from the desk and followed Tina towards the exit.

Navigating through a rough part of town as Tina drove, Bette found herself in an area she only ventured into while on duty. The buildings were weathered, yet predominantly industrial. Amidst the rundown structures stood businesses: barbershops, laundromats, nail salons, and electronics stores, many with 'Closing Down Sale - Everything Must Go!' signs hanging loosely in the windows. Bette had long suspected that some of these establishments doubled as fronts for illicit activities, but she wasn't intimately acquainted with the nature of them.

As they pushed through the front door of RJ Pawn Brokers, a bell overhead clanged loudly. The interior was shrouded in an unsettling layer of dust, and the dim lighting made Bette pause to adjust her eyes. Tina trailed closely behind Bette, their footsteps echoing in the oddly silent atmosphere. Bette scanned the spacious shop, shelves lined endlessly with an array of miscellaneous items. Behind the counter stood a man, his appearance matching the shop's dismal setting. Stringy hair melded into a ponytail, his scraggly facial hair adding to his grimy appearance. He straightened as they entered, the fleeting hint of customer service readiness crossing his face vanishing as he seemed to register them as law enforcement. Bette noted patches of liquid staining his shirt, presumably remnants of cleaning fluid used for the two gold watches on the counter. She strode purposefully towards the counter, her muscles tense as she approached the sales assistant.

"Help you, officers?" the man behind the counter asked gruffly. His eyes flickered up briefly before returning to the log he was meticulously writing, one watch cradled in his left hand, awaiting entry into the ledger.

Bette promptly flashed her badge. "Detective Porter, and this is Detective Kennard, Riverbank PD. We're looking for a Liam Hamilton, believed to be employed here."

The man took his time responding, his pen pressing deeply into the page as he paused. Eventually, he lifted his gaze to Bette's, casting a glance over her shoulder at Tina who was surveying the shop's interior.

"Liam Hamilton… you sure?" he asked slowly.

Bette nodded, trying to keep her patience. "Yep."

"He's out back. Janitor," he explained. "You want me to fetch him?"

Bette hesitated. She couldn't risk giving Hamilton a heads-up. "No need. Mind if I go on out back and speak to him?"

"No problem, ma'am. Just... tread carefully," he warned.

"Meaning what, exactly?" Bette demanded.

"He's skittish. Doesn't take kindly to surprises," he elaborated with a shrug.

"Got it. Thanks," Tina offered before they turned towards the back hall. As they walked away, Bette stole a glance back at the man, who had been watching them intently but averted his eyes when she looked.

They stepped down the narrow hallway, navigating through a clutter of boxes stacked high to one side, leaving little room for movement. A mop bucket sat idly by the bathroom door, and Bette stepped around it before she rapped loudly on the door.

"Mr. Hamilton? This is the police. We need to speak with you. Can you please come out of the restroom?"

Silence, aside from their breathing. Tina gestured for Bette to be prepared as she placed her hand on her service weapon. With a swift motion, Bette pushed the door wide open, revealing two closed cubicle doors in a dingy bathroom.

"Mr. Hamilton, we need you to come out," Tina repeated, her voice ringing against the tiles.

No response. After a moment, Tina indicated her intent to open one of the doors. Bette nodded in agreement, positioning herself to the side as Tina kicked the door open from the bottom. The cubicle was empty, as was the one next to it.

"He's not here," Bette hissed, frustrated. "He must have heard us. I didn't see another exit, did you?"

As Bette scanned the room, her eyes landed on the small window above Tina's head, its frame splintered and weathered. It seemed impossible for anyone to escape through it. Before Bette could voice her thoughts, Tina raised a hand, motioning for silence. A faint sound reached Bette's ears - the distant jingle of a bell, a door slamming. Her eyes flicked to the mop bucket outside the door, recalling the damp patches on the man's shirt. 

"Fucking asshole! That was Hamilton at the counter!" Bette cried in realisation as they burst from the restroom into the cramped hallway, Tina taking the lead.

Bette's heart raced as she stumbled over a discarded box, cursing as a surge of white-hot pain shot through her ankle. Ignoring the agony, she pushed herself back onto her feet, urgency driving her forward as she ran after Tina, who had already bolted out of the shop after Hamilton. Every second was valuable, and she wasn't going to lose any more because of a twisted ankle.

Pausing for a millisecond outside the shop window, she veered to the right and rounded a corner into a parking lot. Junk and scrap was piled high inside the dilapidated fences, surrounding the rusted shells of several cars, and for a moment Bette thought she had taken the wrong turn out of the shop until she heard the growl of an engine, and Tina's commanding shouts for the suspect to stop. She started jogging again towards the sound, squinting as her eyes adjusted in the sunlight until she found the source of the noise. Hamilton had thrown his car into reverse, and the wheels screeched and spun as he aimed for escape. Tina's blonde hair was just visible in front of his vehicle, blocking his path, and without a second thought Bette took aim at his rear wheels. Two shots rang out, reverberating in the cluttered space. The car lurched to the side, its momentum jarred by the punctured tires.

"Police! Stop!" Bette's voice carried through the chaos as she approached the vehicle, her ears still ringing from the gunfire. She scanned the area frantically, her heart pounding in her chest, searching for any sign of Tina. Panic threatened to consume her as she peered over the car's hood, unable to catch sight of her partner. Dread crept in, unwelcome, imagining the worst scenario: that Tina had been struck by the fleeing suspect before Bette could intervene.

With a sudden burst of movement, Hamilton sprinted from the car, leaving the door ajar as he dashed towards the far end of the yard, darting between towering piles of scrap metal. Adrenaline surged through Bette's veins, numbing the pain in her ankle as she chased after him. He aimed for the pedestrian exit, a sturdy metal door his last barrier to escape. Bette shouted another warning as she closed the gap between them, stealing a glance over her shoulder in hopes of spotting Tina. Still no sign of her. With only a few strides between them, Bette watched as Hamilton raised a hand to push the door open, and she thought he had escaped until she heard a sickening crunch echo through the air, followed by the dull thud of Hamilton hitting the ground.

Skidding to a halt just shy of the fallen suspect, Bette looked up to see Tina emerging victorious from the opposite side of the door. Positioned strategically, Tina had slammed the metal door into Hamilton as he had begun to push it, sending him crashing to the ground in pain. Groaning, he clutched his head before attempting to rise once more. But Tina was swift to react, pouncing on him with surprising strength, flipping him over and pinning him to the ground.

"Stay down," she said breathlessly. Bette watched in admiration as Tina pinned his arms behind his back and cuffed him. He writhed uselessly on the ground as Tina stood up and straightened her shirt. Bette's breaths were still coming in ragged gasps as she raised her hand at Tina in a gesture of astonishment at their success. Tina grinned back at her.

"Lucky guess," she offered and waved back at the metal door

"Smart guess," Bette corrected. With a firm grip, she pulled Hamilton to his feet, her movements determined as she marched him towards the parked car, Tina remaining behind to call the incident in. Bette settled Hamilton into the vehicle and finished reciting his rights, then leaned against the car as Tina returned.

"I can't believe we got him," Bette exclaimed, shaking her head. "Well, you got him, anyway."

"You fired your service weapon," Tina replied, a little concern in her voice.

"Technically, he was using his car as a deadly weapon, aiming it at you," Bette explained, resolute as she justified her actions.

A satisfied smile played on Tina's mouth as she wiped her brow with the back of her hand, revealing a long stream of blood. Bette's gaze flickered to the injury, furrowing her brow.

"You're hurt," she said softly. Tina examined the gash on her hand, frowning.

"It's nothing - I don't even know how it happened," Tina replied.

"It's not nothing. Here," Bette said, reaching for the napkin from her breakfast. "Put some pressure on it. Hopefully, it will hold until we're back at the station."

Tina accepted the napkin with a nod of gratitude, applying pressure to her wound as Bette drove the car back towards the precinct. In the backseat, Hamilton remained silent aside from the occasional groan when they rounded a corner.

Upon their return to the station, Bette escorted Hamilton to a holding room for questioning. Despite his complaints, he didn't appear to have any life-threatening injuries, aside from a bruise forming on his cheek and a sore shoulder from his fall. Bette then made her way to the locker room, where she found Tina washing out her hand in the sink.  She approached her, concerned.  

"How is it?" she asked quietly. Tina held up her hand, the injury looking less offensive now that the blood had been washed away, though it still continued to ooze.

"It'll be fine, just a scrape," Tina replied with a nonchalant shrug, a flicker of discomfort passing across her face.

"I told you, it's not just a scrape," Bette admonished, her tone soft but firm as she retrieved the first aid kit from the far wall. Despite its limited supplies, there was enough to deal with the situation. "Sit down," she demanded, gesturing to the bench beside her.

Taking a seat next to Tina, Bette held her fingers delicately as she applied the antiseptic. A quiet hiss escaped Tina's mouth, her eyes fixed on the ceiling as the sting registered. Instinctively, Bette reached out and squeezed Tina's knee in reassurance.

"You're doing great, just hang tight for a second, and I'll put the dressing on," Bette said softly. She could feel Tina watching her, observing the focused determination in Bette's eyes as she prepared the gauze and tape, unwrapping them carefully.

"You've done this before," Tina said, breaking the silence. Bette offered her a warm smile as she continued. "A couple of times, you could say," she replied, paying full attention to Tina's injured hand.

As she concentrated on applying the dressing, a loose curl of her brown hair fell into her line of sight. She attempted to shake it back, but it stubbornly refused to stay in place. Tina reached out with her uninjured hand and gently tucked the strand behind Bette's ear, holding it in place while Bette applied the adhesive. Her skin tingled where Tina's fingers hovered. Bette's cheeks warmed, a combination of nerves and anticipation coming out in a flush. She refocused on her task, pretending not to notice the fluttering sensation in her stomach. Once the dressing was securely in place, Bette inspected her work, turning Tina's hand over again to check the dressing placement. Tina squeezed Bette's fingers, their eyes locking as time slowed to a crawl.

Feeling the tension between them reach its peak, Bette gently withdrew her hand under the guise of packing up the first aid kit. "All done. How does it feel?" she asked, a little unsteady.

"It feels… good," Tina replied quietly, her hazel eyes holding Bette's.

Bette's heart raced, surely audible to Tina. Sensing her own nerves, she rose to her feet, attempting to regain composure as she returned the kit to its place on the wall.

Tina cleared her throat, breaking the silence. Bette turned to see her flashing a wide smile, illuminated from behind by the sunlight streaming through the window. In that moment, Tina looked exquisitely beautiful, and Bette found herself at a loss for words. Well this just got more complicated, she realised as a knot formed in her stomach.

"You ready to talk to Hamilton?" Tina's voice broke through the moment, grounding Bette in reality. With a nod, they left the room together.

The interrogation room felt oppressively hot and stuffy, air heavy with tension as they sat across from Hamilton. Bette pushed her earlier thoughts about Tina to the side as they settled into their seats, her focus shifting entirely to Hamilton. He sat before them, guarded, his dark eyes darting around the room as if searching for another escape route. The tape had been running for a few minutes before Bette opened the questioning.

"Why'd you run, Hamilton?" Bette started, her gaze unwavering as she studied him.

Hamilton shifted uncomfortably in his chair, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "Doing something I shouldn't have been," he admitted.

Tina exchanged a glance with Bette, her expression unreadable. "Care to elaborate?"

Hamilton swallowed hard, his eyes avoiding theirs. "Might have been selling goods from my shop that were... obtained through less than legal means."

Bette raised an eyebrow. Right now, she didn't give two shits about his stolen goods situation. "Right. We'll get to that. How did you know Kyle Taylor?"

"Didn't really. Hung out a bit here and there." Hamilton responded. He drummed his fingers nervously on the table between them.

"You didn't really know him. But somehow your fingerprint was recovered from a keychain found on his body after he was murdered," Bette watched him as she spoke, his body frozen as his fingers paused their rhythm on the surface.

"His keys? I had his keys. I didn't murder anybody, shit!" Hamilton sat bold upright, and held his hands up in resignation. The detectives sat quietly, observing him, waiting for him to fill the silence now that they had him sweating a bit. He lowered his hands, fidgeting nervously in his lap. "I... borrowed his keys from him the day he was killed, or maybe the day before. I don't know, that's the truth. He said I could put some stuff in his storage unit."

"Stuff?" Bette repeated.

"Just... stuff," Hamilton replied evasively.

"Stolen stuff?" Tina clarified.

Hamilton sighed in resignation. "Fine, yes! Might have been stolen stuff. But that was the last time I saw him, I swear."

Bette leaned back in her chair, exchanging a meaningful look with Tina before continuing the questioning. "Where were you on the night of Taylor's murder?"

Hamilton scoffed incredulously, wiping the sweat from his brow. "You can't be fucking serious," he protested.

"I'm very serious. Do I not look serious?" Bette countered, eyes narrowed at the man opposite.

"Jesus Christ!" Hamilton exclaimed. "I was at a bar, okay? I was there until close. You can ask around, check the cameras. I got there around nine, left at about two AM."

Bette nodded, taking down notes on her pad. "And what about Taylor? Any idea why someone might want him dead?"

Hamilton's nerves were palpable. "Like I said, I didn't really know the guy all that well. Just met him a few times, he helped me out with the storage because I could pay him cash. Sounded like he had a lot of bad debts. He was doing work for a lot of different people, trying to get himself out of it. I got the impression like he was trying to blackmail some people, but I don't know who, and I don’t want to know, never asked."

"Did he ever mention Jude Dominic?" Tina asked calmly.

Hamilton hesitated before replying. "Yeah, I think he did some work for him. Courier stuff, mostly, I think. But I don't ask too many questions." he said again.

"And what about your relationship with Dominic?" Bette asked.

Hamilton shook his head adamantly. "Don't have one. Met him once or twice, but I steer clear of that kind of trouble."

Tina leaned forward, her expression intense. "So he's not in on your stolen goods operation."

Hamilton sighed, running a hand through his greasy hair. "It's not an operation! It's just an every now and then thing." Bette waited for him to continue. "I mostly deal with someone who I think could be a pal of Dominic's. He brings me the goods, I pay him an agreed price, and I sell them on. I don't ask where they come from, and he doesn't say."

"But they're stolen," Bette stated matter-of-factly. "What's the guy's name?"

Hamilton shrugged, his nerves getting the better of him. "Like I said, I don't ask questions. He never gave a name. If I don't know they're definitely stolen, that's not on me."

Bette exchanged another glance with Tina before closing her notepad. "Am I going to be here long?" Hamilton asked, rubbing his face.

"Long enough to process your arrest for evading police and receiving and possessing stolen goods, at a minimum," Bette replied, her tone final. "Get comfortable."

Tina followed Bette out of the room, and she gestured to the door of the building. It seemed to grow hotter and stuffier with each step they took towards the door, both desperate for some cool, fresh air. Once outside, Bette took a deep breath, flexing the dull ache in her ankle before turning to Tina.

"He didn't seem to have any major beef with Taylor," Bette thought aloud, as they leaned against the rough bricks of the exterior. The afternoon sun was dipping, bringing on the promise of the cool change of the evening.

Tina nodded in agreement. "Yeah, agreed. He seemed genuinely shocked about any implication in Taylor's murder. More worried about his little burglary cash cow,"

Bette adjusted her grip on her notepad as she stared out at cars moving through the street, then glanced sideways at Tina. "We'll have to check out his alibi at the bar. If he was there until close, we need to verify it."

"Definitely," Tina replied, her hazel eyes meeting Bette's again briefly before she looked away. "But we did get some useful information out of him," Tina continued thoughtfully. "Taylor was apparently dealing with some serious money troubles."

Bette nodded. "Yeah, could be a motive for his murder, if it wasn't Dominic after all. If he was in debt or being pressured by someone, it might explain why he was mixed up in shady dealings. It just feels, I don't know - messy now,"

The pair stood in silence for a few moments, each deep in their own thoughts until eventually Tina declared she was going to head inside to verify the alibi. Deciding a few more minutes alone outside wouldn't hurt, Bette said she would meet her there soon.

As she turned to go inside, Tina paused and rested her hand on Bette's arm. "Hey," she said softly. Bette turned around, meeting Tina's eyes with a questioning look. "I'll come to your party,"

A small smile tugged at the corners of Bette's lips, and she lifted her chin in response as she watched Tina walk back inside.

Chapter Text

Bette rode in the cab on her way to Cavanagh's, smoothing the skirt of her dress down subconsciously as the buildings streamed past the window. It gave her equal parts apprehension and amusement when she dressed herself up for work functions. It was almost like getting glammed up to hang out with your brothers, trying to showcase any form of femininity when they had seen you wrestle fully-grown men to the ground, not to mention inhaling a hamburger in three bites.
The previous morning being a Saturday, Bette had made a brief appearance at the precinct. It wasn't an obligation, nor was it expected of her to work on the weekend, but after Hamilton's alibi had checked out she felt the need to take some time to quietly re-evaluate her strategy. He hadn't lied about being innocent of Taylor's murder - the security footage from the bar showed him sitting alone for most of the night, swallowing drink after drink until well after the window in which the homicide had happened. So Bette was, for the most part, pulled in by the temptation of catching up on some admin while not many people were around, but also admittedly the small hope of encountering Tina. However, as the morning wore on and Tina didn't appear, Bette's quashed hope remained unspoken, buried beneath the pretence of productivity. Neither of them were scheduled or on call, so it made sense that Tina was probably making the most of her free time. With the afternoon stretching ahead of her, Bette left the precinct with the intention of filling her time at the city museum. However, the allure of a rare day off led her to linger around her home, tending to her somewhat neglected indoor plants and basking in the warmth of the sun in her small garden. In the quiet moments between her menial tasks, she found herself drifting again into thoughts of how Tina might be spending her Saturday. After the sun had sunk below the horizon, Bette's plans for a movie night gave way to exhaustion, and she eventually gave in and crept into bed early.
Having spent her Sunday morning going for a run along the river followed by a long bath, Bette felt that she was going into Cavanagh's party with a clear head. Choosing her outfit with more care than usual, she settled on a sleek black dress, the thin straps weaving a delicate pattern across her back. It was possibly a little more bold than what she would usually wear to a work party, but the dress had called to her the moment she saw the hem peeking from within her wardrobe, knowing it would be perfect for tonight. As she put the finishing touches on and clicked her earrings into place, Bette had toyed again with the idea of offering to pick Tina up on the way, but had ultimately decided not to ask. Although Tina had already said she would come, Bette didn't want to come across too strong, or worse, have Tina say no. She'd agreed to come along - and Bette was quickly learning that she needn't be as pushy or demanding as she usually was. Tina was almost as strong-minded as her, but seemingly more adept at managing it.
As the cab slowed to a stop in front of the Cavanagh home, Bette paid and thanked the driver before stepping out into the sweltering heat. The imposing two-storey home was nestled amongst an immaculate garden, an ornate iron gate hovering over the driveway. She pushed open one side of the gate, smiling to herself as she walked up the steep pavement and began ascending the stairs. Before her foot had landed on the top step, the front door swung open to reveal Cavanagh's wife, Annie, wearing a wide smile and holding out her arms in welcome. To Bette, Annie embodied her image of a perfect mother—affectionate, with a hint of glamour, radiating warmth and wicked sense of humour.
"Well, well, well, don't you look just the picture!" Annie exclaimed, her eyes sweeping over Bette admiringly before bringing her into a tight embrace. Annie's hugs were always the same, ever since Bette was a girl. She pulled her in, never the first to let go, always happy to see her.  Bette's cheeks tinged. "You always say that when I'm not in my work clothes," she chuckled modestly.
"It's a welcome change to see you out of those slacks and letting those long legs breathe, honey," Annie said with a playful wink.
"Think I just needed to feel good today, you know?" Bette replied.
"Well, you look it. Absolutely no shame in that. You should go somewhere special after this, looking as you do. It's wasted on those ruffians out there," Annie suggested with a mischievous glint in her eye as she ushered Bette inside.
Bette shook her head with a soft laugh. "I'm not going anywhere on a Sunday night, Annie. I'm here, with all of you."
Annie had always been sweetly invested in Bette's love life, especially since the breakup. Over the years, Bette had shared her fair share of disastrous dating stories with Annie, usually earning a laugh at some of the more unfortunate tales of bad dates and missed connections. Stepping into the familiar entryway, Bette heard the faint hum of noise from out the back of the house as Annie closed the door behind them, linking her arm through Bette's and guiding her into the kitchen. Among the expansive layout, the kitchen was lined with sleek granite countertops and spotless appliances, even in the midst of hosting a party. Formerly a solicitor, Annie now dabbled in consulting but most of her time was focused on the youth justice charity she co-founded, adding another string to her bow of being an all-round good person.
"Did you paint the hall again?" Bette asked, gesturing over her shoulder with her thumb.
"Just a touch-up, you know how it goes. As soon as it dries, I'll probably decide on another colour," Annie replied with a shrug, always seeming to be in perpetual motion. She pushed a flute of champagne into Bette's hand. "Here, I can't have you standing there without a drink. And for goodness' sake, put your purse down. You look like you're about to bolt."
Bette smiled her thanks and glanced out of the sliding doors leading to outside, noticing the usual crowd gathered beyond the sunken decking area, enjoying the sunshine with drinks flowing. No sign of Tina, but she reasoned that it was still fairly early.
"Have you been okay, honey? I feel like I haven't seen you in a minute," Annie asked. Bette felt a surge of thoughts and worries bubbling in the front of her mind. She could have opened her mouth and easily unloaded a laundry list of troubles: falling behind on everything, the murder of her informant, facing resource shortages because of her own stubbornness, grappling with an unsolved homicide case, nearly driving a new partner away.. Oh, and the added complication of a niggling and unexpected attraction to said partner. But if she started, she worried she might never stop. So she offered a simple, "More or less. Same old, you know how it is. Work stuff,"
Annie paused, looking at her pensively. "Just work stuff?"
Bette shrugged and nodded, knowing both she and Annie were aware of her evasion. But Annie didn't press, her expression suggesting she understood Bette would share when she was ready.
"Are you all organised for Wednesday night? Cav says you've been busy," Bette steered the conversation in a new direction. She took a sip of her champagne, the buttery fizz coating her tongue.
"Something like that. It gets to a point where you can try and put as many things in place as possible, but when the time comes it will just be what it will be," Annie replied lightly as she pulled a tray from the oven. "Not to mention I've had to get a new tuxedo shirt for Robert, he's a little… broader than the last time he wore it, if you know what I mean. All those little treats from Mrs. Myers that he thinks I don't know about, but the proof is in the stretched stitching. But that's just between us," she chuckled, and they shared a knowing glance.
“What’s just between you two?” Cavanagh's deep voice echoed across the kitchen as he strolled in from outside, reaching for a snack from one of the platters. Annie swatted his hand away, but he managed to snag a bite before turning to face Bette, chewing casually. Bette arched an eyebrow and shrugged, while Annie shot a frustrated glance at her husband from behind his back.
"Actually, never mind. I'm not sure I want to know," Cavanagh said, his eyes narrowing as he took in Bette's appearance. "You get a haircut or something, kiddo? You look different."
Bette shook her head and grinned, even as Annie rolled her eyes at her husband's obliviousness to detail. "Nope, same old me," Bette replied, gesturing to the blue and white balloon garland with '30 YEARS' weaved into the decoration. "Although not as old as you, from the looks of it. Congratulations, by the way."
"I take it back, nothing different about you or your smart mouth," Cavanagh quipped, clinking his glass with Bette's before taking a sip.
"Nice turnout," Bette said, gesturing toward the gathering outside. Cavanagh nodded in agreement, his chest puffing out proudly.
"Yeah, it's shaping up to be a good one." They fell quiet as they looked beyond the doors. Bette tried to quiet her worry about the case, wondering if, on top of everything else, he thought she wasn't producing enough results. And as for the turbulence with Tina earlier in the week, she hoped Cavanagh hadn't caught wind of that, either. As the doorbell chimed, Annie wiped her hands on a dishtowel and headed to greet the arriving guests in a flurry of movement. Cavanagh watched after her with a shake of his head.
"Back and forth like a cable car. I told her to just leave it open, but she was having none of it," Cavanagh sighed. Bette smirked, glancing toward the door leading to the yard. He gestured for Bette to follow him. "Come on, let's get you outside where you can ditch that fizzy crap for a real drink."
Bette followed him toward the door, the sound of Annie's cheerful chatter fading behind them. Suddenly, her attention snapped back as she caught the unmistakable lilt of Tina's voice. Their eyes met instantly. Tina stood a few paces away, dressed in a striking deep blue satin dress that hugged her athletic frame. The hem skimmed her knees, the neckline modest but flattering, drawing Bette's eyes up to her graceful shoulders and collarbones. She looked radiant, blonde tresses falling in soft waves, her eyes bright with recognition as she looked back at Bette, who shifted her drink uneasily, feeling her palms grow damp. Tina arched an eyebrow, silently assessing her, and Bette felt a blush creeping up her neck.
Annie's voice filled the air as she welcomed Tina into the home. Tina's gaze, however, remained fixed on Bette, who returned the look with a small wave. After Annie handed Tina a drink, she finally noticed Bette standing near the back door.
"Bette! You didn't tell me your new partner was coming today. I had to find out by opening my door to this gorgeous stranger," Annie exclaimed with a playful smile.
"I wasn't sure if she would come," Bette replied softly, a grin spreading across her face. "Hey, Tina."
"Hey yourself," Tina replied, her eyes lingering on Bette's. They stood there, caught in a kind of silent exchange. Underneath all the confidence, Bette was sure she could detect a little apprehension in Tina's eyes. It must have taken a bit of courage, showing up as the newcomer, especially with the mixed reception she'd received within the team so far. An uncomfortable feeling of regret itched at Bette's subconscious, realising she should definitely have offered to pick her up and arrive together, instead of ruminating on her own feelings about it. Annie, sensing the charged atmosphere between the two, broke the moment by clearing her throat.
"Well, as nice as it is to have you both in here, you can't stay in this kitchen all afternoon. The sunshine and the party are out there, so if you don't mind…" Annie said cheerfully, holding out a tray of mini quiches. "Bette can you take these out for me honey, thank you. Show Tina where everything is, won't you?" The oven timer chimed again, and Bette snapped into action, crossing the kitchen to take the tray in one hand. With a nod of her head, she indicated to Tina to follow her outside. They stepped out into the warm air, met by the stunning backyard. It was clear the space was designed for entertaining, with a sunken decking area encircling a fire pit, a favourite spot in the colder months. The lawn was meticulously manicured, with pretty hedges and an array of plants dotting the landscape. On one side of the covered decking area stood a long table filled with party snacks, pastries, and drinks chilling in ice-filled containers. Vines wrapped around the posts supporting the patio covering, their growth over the years providing shade while still allowing natural light to filter through. Bette made her way to the long table, moving to place the tray down. 
"Here, let me help," Tina offered, rearranging a few things to make space.
"Thanks," Bette replied, turning to face her. Tina stood before her, sipping from her glass slowly as the breeze lifted a few strands of hair from her shoulders. Bette tried to reset her expression as Tina scanned the yard, then returned her gaze to Bette, her eyes expectant, waiting for Bette to say something.
"You found the place okay? I'm sorry, I should have offered to pick you up. I guess I didn't want to spook you into changing your mind," Bette said with a smile. Not famed for her apologetic nature, she was slowly finding it easier to say these kinds of things to Tina. It made her realise she wanted to avoid mistakes with her altogether, rather than seek forgiveness afterward. Bette was surprised to find her drink was nearly finished, and she was running out of things to do with her hands. She looked at Tina, trying to gauge her reaction.
Tina met her gaze, her hazel eyes shaded by her lashes, the sunlight casting them in deeper hues. "I don't usually change my mind easily, as you've probably figured out. Plus, I wouldn't miss the chance to see you like this. You look stunning," she said softly. Smooth as ever. Bette felt her cheeks grow warm once again, her social skills abandoning her as she tried to figure out if Tina was flirting with her, or just paying a compliment. Bette's attempt at a response faltered, leaving her gesturing awkwardly in front of Tina. A grin spread across Tina's face, her cheekbones rising as Bette struggled. Tina offered no help, enjoying Bette's fluster.
"Bette Porter, lost for words. That's a first," she teased.
"Zip it, Kennard," Bette replied with a chuckle, and Tina joined in. The tension between them eased slightly as Bette glanced down at her hands before looking up again. "You look incredible, that's what I was trying to say. If you'd let me finish."
Maybe it was the warmth in the air, but Bette could have sworn she saw a hint of colour in Tina's cheeks. Knowing she should mingle with the others at the party, Bette found herself unable to tear her eyes away from Tina, who made no move to leave their spot under the canopy of vine leaves. A distant roar of laughter reached their ears, and Bette closed her eyes, realising their moment was over.
"C'mon, we should go and see the motley crew," she sighed. If Tina was reluctant, she wasn't showing it, but Bette knew that she had to be at least a little apprehensive after what she had told her earlier in the week. They navigated their way across the deck, descending a few wooden steps into the gathering.
The crowd had clearly made an effort for Cavanagh's celebration; Bette was acutely aware of the varying aftershave scents assaulting her nostrils. Most faces were familiar from their day-to-day work, but there were a few older folks she didn't recognise, she thought probably retired or former colleagues of Cavanagh's. The group was scattered across the lawn, engaged in conversations, laughter and a lot of back slapping. Olivia, sandwiched between Myers and Jackson on a bench, was the first to spot Bette and Tina's arrival. A brief furrow of her dark brows hinted at surprise, causing Bette to consider that their entrance together might be seen as significant.
"Porter!" Myers' booming voice rang out as he stood up, a wide grin spreading across his face. He pulled Bette in a warm hug. "You've scrubbed up well for the occasion! Hey, Tina. So nice to see you."
Bette exhaled, grinning, as Myers turned to Tina, wrapping her into a hug as well. She silently thanked him for setting the tone of welcome. As they exchanged greetings and the conversation started flowing, a tray of champagne appeared, courtesy of Jackson. There was a collective roar of laughter at his expense as they explained to him it was customary to just take a single glass when offered, not walk off with the entire tray. Despite the conversations around her, Bette found her attention continually drawn back to Tina, watching how effortlessly she seemed to connect with everyone outside of the walls of the precinct. As they settled in, Cavanagh made his way over to them, a warm smile across his face.
"Tina, so glad you could make it," he said, extending his hand to shake hers. "It's great to have you here."
Tina returned the smile. "Thank you, Captain. It's nice to be here, and congratulations again."
His expression softened slightly as he turned to Bette. "Porter, it's a shame Riley couldn't make it down for the celebration, but given everything, it's understandable," he said, before his attention shifted back to Tina. "But from what I hear you're doing alright as her new partner," he said, with a twinkle of humour in his eyes. "And I'm sure you know that's no minor feat."
Tina looked over at Bette, arching her brow. Bette chuckled before chiming in. "She's keeping me in line, boss."
Cavanagh let out a hearty laugh, and Tina stifled a snort. "Well, you'll have to sit down and tell me your secret at some stage, because she hasn't spent a single day in this job without crossing some line or another," he joked, and Tina raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. Bette shook her head, feeling a swell of pride and gratitude towards Cavanagh, even as he playfully ribbed her.
"Anyway, I'd better keep moving. Annie says I need to 'circulate' . Enjoy the party, you two." With a final smile, he moved on to chat to some of the other guests. Bette recognised Myers’ father, as tall and imposing as his son, and gave him a quick wave before he was pulled into conversation.
"Porter, your old man swingin' by?" Myers piped up from behind her. Bette shook her head. Her father had all but put his previous life behind him, seldom bringing it up unless pressed, and pressing wasn't a game she played with that man.
As Olivia downed the last of her drink and immediately cracked open another bottle, the group watched on, a mixture of amusement and concern on their faces. "Planning on working from the bathroom tomorrow, Liv?" Myers teased.
She smacked her lips. "Nope. Starting Tuesday, I'm on nights for three weeks," she retorted with a slight slur, met with a chorus of groans from the group. Warren hung back on the fringes of the group, his usual snide remarks noticeably absent. Bette had barely clocked his arrival, surprised by his uncharacteristic silence. Perhaps he'd decided to show some respect for Cavanagh's party, keeping his usual sarcastic comments to himself. With the heavy bags under his eyes and a five o'clock shadow, he was the one that looked like he'd just finished a few weeks of night shifts. Bette took a sip of her drink, her eyes lingering on Warren, reflecting on how he looked worse every time she had seen him lately. Despite her significant lack of affection for him, she couldn't ignore the fact that he was still part of their work family, and she didn't wish hardship on any of them, even Warren. Meanwhile, Annie was bustling around, enjoying playing hostess, trying to get people to eat as well as drink. From what Bette could see, most people were significantly more interested in knocking back drinks than snacking. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, the air around them grew cooler. She lifted her hair off her neck for a moment, enjoying the sensation of the cool breeze against her skin as she returned her gaze to Tina once again, engaged in a conversation with a very tipsy Olivia. Seeing them together felt strange, as though they were two very separate fragments of her life colliding, before Bette reminded herself that Tina was her partner, intertwined with her professional world before anything else. Amidst the conversation, a punchline landed, and Bette found herself locking eyes with Tina again as they laughed. Without quite knowing why, she felt compelled to throw Tina a glance, to silently ask if she was okay, the thread of the unasked question connecting them. Tina's response was a small smile of reassurance, and Bette moved towards her, taking another flute of champagne on her way.
"Warren would know. Where is he now?" Olivia was asking, peering around and Bette followed her gaze to Warren, pacing slowly along the fence, phone to his ear as someone seemed to be speaking to him at length. "Ah. The infamous Mrs. Warren to be, if I had to guess by the look on his face. That poor woman," Olivia muttered.
"Behave, Liv," Bette elbowed her, and Olivia gave her a look of feigned innocence before chuckling.
"Have you had the pleasure yet?" Bette turned to Tina and nodded towards Warren.
"I think that word is a bit of a stretch, Porter. But yeah, we've been introduced," Tina replied.
"And?"
Tina scrunched her nose. "Let's just say that despite a rocky start, I'm happy with the partner I was assigned to," she answered diplomatically. Bette struggled to contain the grin that tugged at her lips as she nodded in understanding.
"Happy with Porter? Can I get a signed statement attesting to that fact?" Olivia's laughter rang out from beside them, drawing them both in. Bette hesitated initially, but soon found herself joining in, encouraged by the sound of Tina's soft chuckles. The chatter in the crowd began to hush as Cavanagh stood at the top of the stairs leading into the house. With a sharp tap of a knife against his champagne glass, all eyes turned toward him.
"Now I don't want to turn this into one of my daily tirades that you're probably all conditioned to tune out, so I'll try and keep this short. Firstly, thank you all for coming. Tonight marks a significant milestone in my life, and it’s a privilege to have you all here with me." As the applause broke out, Cavanagh waved it off with a casual but appreciative gesture.
"It's thirty years for me, but it's also been thirty years for Annie." Another round of applause began, accompanied by a few hoots of appreciation, and Annie beamed as she looked up at her husband. "So well done Annie, because hell knows how you managed it. I wouldn't be half the leader I am today if I myself wasn't being led by this incredible woman, who also organised this whole gathering. If it was left to my event organising skills, we'd be rammed into the bar across the road from the station at the last minute," Turning his attention to his cackling team gathered before him, his expression softened a little as he continued.
"And what else? I've got to thank my dedicated team. You are the backbone of our department. I've always said I think at the heart of our success is the sense of family - a bond that goes beyond the badge, and I'm grateful to each of you who have embraced that vision. Your commitment, integrity, and headstrong dedication makes my job not only easier, but hugely rewarding. You all help me to bring the best out in you, and to make better decisions. Most of the time," he added, earning another wave of laughter. Bette could have sworn his eyes flickered towards her, and she smiled, feeling suddenly emotional as she listened to Cavanagh's words. The prospect of his eventual retirement tugged at her mind, casting a whisper of  bittersweet shadow over the celebration. She glanced beside her at Tina, who was smiling up at him as she listened attentively, arms crossed loosely as she held her glass.
"Now I don't stand before you under any illusions - It's been a long road, and we never know how long we have ahead of us, so look after each other the way that I know you do. When you face adversity, face it together. Move forward with honour, and commit to doing what you know in your heart is right, and true. And for god's sake, can you all please start eating some of this food, otherwise it's going to end up here." He patted his stomach firmly, and everyone chuckled along with him. "Anyway. Here's to thirty years of memories, and maybe a few questionable decisions. Cheers!" he cried, and everyone joined in, raising their glasses to toast him.
The atmosphere crackled with energy after Cavanagh's speech as the music turned up a notch, and the conversations got notably louder. The temperature finally dropped a few more degrees, and the stars began to prickle through the darkening sky. Bette watched with amusement at Olivia's carefree indulgence in yet another drink, shaking her head and wondering how much longer she would be upright. Soon, Bette found herself drawn into a dry conversation with one of the retired officers who had known her father. It was a familiar situation at these types of events – people eager to reminisce about her father's legacy, while she had spent her career trying to carve out her own path. Glancing over the man's shoulder, Bette caught sight of Tina slipping away into the house. After a few moments, her curiosity got the better of her, and she excused herself and made her way inside.
She peered from the kitchen and found Tina in the hallway, quietly looking at the photographs on the wall. Tina glanced over as she approached, and smiled, pointing out a younger Cavanagh with his arms wrapped around a younger Annie, smiling back at them from a bygone era.
"Annie has always been this glamorous, I see," Tina smiled. "Look at all of Cav's hair!"
"Wait until you see this one," Bette grinned, leading Tina into the study. The walls inside the room were lined with rich wooden panelling, carved seamlessly around the shelves, filled with all manner of books, ornaments and photographs. In one corner stood a wide mahogany desk, its surface covered with scattered papers, just like his desk at work. Bette stepped forward and turned on the vintage brass lamp. Along one wall, a carefully organised display cabinet showcased a collection of his law enforcement memorabilia—his first Riverbank PD badges, a few weathered hats, and some vintage-looking handcuffs among other things. Noticing a few stray pins jutting from the backboard, Bette guessed that he, or more likely Annie, must have been in the midst of rearranging or cleaning up. Bette tapped on the glass with her fingertip, drawing Tina's attention to his junior recruitment photo above the pins.
"Now that's some hair," Tina laughed as a very young Cavanagh stared back at them with a full head of curly brown hair. She took a few moments looking through the cabinet, taking in the relics of policing years gone by. "You seem... at ease here, in their home," Tina said, her eyes scanning the room.
"Yeah," Bette nodded with fondness. "Cavanagh's been kind of like… a father figure to me, in some ways. We've got more in common than I do with my actual dad. And with my mom gone when I was young, Annie just sort of made herself available without overstepping her bounds."
"And your dad?"
"He's around. Retired now. We don't exactly… see eye to eye on a lot of things. He doesn't agree with most of my lifestyle, thinks that I should be straight, and doing anything but policing. He said I should have been an academic,"
"Instead of being gay, or being a detective?"
Bette chuckled softly. "Probably both, if he had his way."
Tina gave her a soft smile, her gaze drifting back over the contents of the cabinet. Bette shifted slightly, her eyes fixed on the floor as she spoke. "You know, I feel like you know all these things about me. I don't always share them easily, but you have a way of asking that doesn't feel intrusive. I guess that's what makes you a good detective. But I feel like I hardly know anything about you," she admitted.
"You think I'm a good detective?" Tina feigned shock and accompanied it with a playful nudge.
As Bette met Tina's gaze, she noticed the wandering patterns of light dancing through her blonde waves. There was an unreadable quality to Tina's expression, her hazel eyes shimmering with something. Curiosity? Tina leaned against the desk, took a long sip of her champagne and offered up a smile. "Well, what do you want to know?"
Bette hesitated, caught off guard by Tina's prompt. "Siblings?" she ventured.
"A sister," Tina replied simply.
"Parents?"
"Disaster," Tina answered tersely, her eyes momentarily clouding over before returning to meet Bette's.
Shifting gears, Bette changed the subject. "Favourite movie?" Bette pressed on, her tone turning slightly playful as she paced back and forth, mimicking an interrogation.
"Easy - Notting Hill," Tina replied with a soft chuckle, her eyes lighting up.
Bette raised her eyebrows, momentarily pausing her pacing. "Interesting choice... Hangover cure?"
"Grilled cheese with fresh tomatoes and a diet coke," Tina replied without hesitation. "Or, you know, just not drinking at all."
"Do you believe in reincarnation?" Bette asked, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"Reincarnation?" Tina paused, her brow furrowing slightly as she mulled over the question. "Oh gosh, I don't know?"
Bette leaned in with a mischievous grin, the champagne lowering her guard. "What about aliens?"
Tina's eyes widened in surprise as she laughed. "Porter!"
"What? It's a valid question! If we're going to be partners, we should know each other's stance on the big questions of the universe."  Bette protested with a giggle. "Okay, okay. What about… your favourite ice cream flavour?"
"Pistachio," Tina replied immediately, her eyes following Bette as she continued her path backwards and forwards across the desk.
"Pistachio?" Bette echoed, her eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. "Of all the flavours?"
"Hey! I bet yours is something boring like chocolate," Tina teased, her playful banter making Bette's stomach flop involuntarily.
"Chocolate is never boring. On the contrary, chocolate might be the most interesting, and I'll tell you why," Bette responded with a laugh.
"You're so stubborn," Tina giggled, the corners of her eyes crinkling with amusement.
"I'm not stubborn, I'm just… passionate when I know I'm right," Bette insisted.
"Which is pretty much always, hmm?" Tina teased gently, her smile softening the edges of her words. Bette shrugged, feeling the weight of the conversation settling in. She stopped pacing, joining Tina in leaning against the desk.
"Feels like hardly ever, lately," Bette admitted, dropping her chin a little.
"Don't think about that now. We're off the clock, remember?" Tina reminded her gently, reaching her hand down and briefly squeezing just above Bette's knee. Bette felt a warmth spread through her skin at the touch, though it was fleeting as Tina withdrew her hand.
"Right," Bette replied, trying to push the lingering thoughts of the case away, back to where they had been moments before.
"You're doing a good job. The case is a bit of a mess, but… We'll figure it out together," Tina reassured her.
Her skin tingled where Tina's bare arm pressed against hers, the proximity sending a warm sensation down her spine. "We'll figure it out," Bette echoed, rolling the 'we' backwards and forwards in her mind.
"I never thought we'd make a good team, to be honest. I almost wanted to bail after that first day," Tina chuckled, though beneath the laughter Bette sensed a trace of something deeper. Flashes of the initial hostility resurfaced, making Bette shift uncomfortably against the desk.
"I'm sorry, again," Bette muttered.
"It wasn't just you. We just… clashed," Tina said simply, her gaze probing Bette's for understanding.
"But you stuck around," Bette pointed out.
Tina shrugged. "I'm no quitter. And besides, I think we found a way to put the needle on the record and make it spin, eventually," she added, nudging Bette again. Bette's heart skipped a beat at the contact, her mind weaving the threads of all her unasked questions together as they lapsed into silence.
"Do you ever wonder what it would've been like if we met under different circumstances?" Tina's voice was tentative.
Bette's breath hitched, and she took her time in responding. "What do you mean?" she eventually asked, cautiously, her pulse quickening once more.
"I think you know what I mean," Tina replied, silently challenging her. Bette's heart thundered in her chest as she waited for Tina to continue, the pause stretching between them like a taut wire. "You can tell me if I'm overstepping here, but... I feel like now we're past all the bullshit, we have a unique - I don't know - chemistry, maybe? It's hard to put into words, but being around you makes me feel... like you amplify the best parts of me, without putting me on a pedestal. It's an attractive quality," Tina explained, her gaze unwavering as she searched for a response. Bette's mind raced, her thoughts spinning as she tried to digest Tina's words. She paused, anxious that she had misinterpreted because from where she was sitting, it sounded like Tina was voicing an attraction to her. Bette had considered the possibility, but not her response to it if it ever came to reality.
"You mean… would we have got off to a better start?" Bette asked slowly, carefully.
Tina let out a low sigh of frustration, seeing through Bette's attempt to deflect. "Something like that, I guess."
Bette hesitated, then responded in a serious tone. "Knowing me, probably not,"
Amusement flashed in Tina's eyes, and before they knew it, both of them had dissolved into giggles, the tension momentarily lifting as their laughter filled the room, Bette keeping her eyes open enough to admire the upward tilt of Tina's chin as she laughed.
"You're not all bad," Tina remarked once their laughter subsided, a smile lingering on her lips.
"Cheers to that, I guess," Bette replied, clinking her glass against Tina's before they both drained their drinks.
"I wasn't sure if I was going to have a good time tonight," Tina admitted after a moment, her eyes lifting to meet Bette's.
"And are you? I know they can be a lot, but—"
"I'm glad I came," Tina interrupted.
"So am I," Bette replied quietly.
Tina tilted her head, the smattering of freckles across her nose illuminated by the low light of the lamp. "You mean it?"
"You know I do," Bette answered, her voice barely audible, vulnerability creeping in. Seated side by side against the desk, Tina's hand found hers. Bette wiggled her fingers, struck by the sensation of Tina's palm against the back of her hand, their slender fingers fitting together perfectly. A distant roar of raucous laughter seeped through the window from outside, a world away.
"Should we be heading back out there?" Bette’s words were just a formality; she didn't want to move an inch.
"I'm having a much better time in here," Tina mused, turning Bette's hand in hers, studying the lines on her palm.
"Oh, are you now?" Bette teased as her lips curved into a grin.
"Well, it could be improved slightly, but yeah," Tina replied as she returned her gaze from Bette's palm to her eyes.
"Improved how?" Bette asked, her eyes never leaving Tina's.
"Just a slight adjustment," Tina murmured, leaning in closer. Bette's heart was beating in her throat as she closed the space between them. In that moment, surrounded by the quiet hum of the room, Bette could have sworn her heart stopped altogether as their lips met in a tentative kiss. Soft and slow, hesitant at first, their lips moved in time with one another. Tina lifted her free hand to Bette's cheek, softly pulling her in closer as she slipped her tongue gently into Bette's mouth. Lost in the sweetness, Bette savoured the taste that lingered on Tina's tongue, the bittersweet remnants of champagne. She was torn between keeping her eyes open or closed, wanting to see and feel all at once, to drink in every detail of the moment. Although she had initially held back, Bette surrendered to the kiss, a surge of heat rippling through her. Gently, she traced the contours of Tina's back, feeling the tension in her muscles beneath her touch as Tina leaned into her, both becoming more passionate with each passing second.
"Is this a bad idea?" Bette's voice was thick, her lips barely moving as she spoke into Tina's mouth.
"Probably," Tina's reply was low as she lifted her fingers into Bette's hair, threading the brunette curls around her fingers. "Should we stop?" Tina mumbled half-heartedly.
Bette breathed heavily into her mouth as she kissed her again. "Probably,"
"We can't stay in here all night," Tina's voice was soft as her words brushed against the sensitive skin of Bette's bottom lip.
"No, we can't," Bette's resolve weakened, certain that she could feel electricity surging through her veins. Her fingers remained intertwined with Tina's, while their free hands ventured carefully, tracing the contours of each other that had so far remained unexplored.
"Maybe just another minute," Tina murmured, moving her hand from Bette's hair down to her side, fingers gently brushing against the side of her breast as she pulled her closer. Bette bristled at her touch, resting her hand on the back of Tina's neck, the skin soft underneath her fingertips as their breathing became heavier.
The moment was shattered by the sound of Bette's name being called from the hall, a sharp reminder that there was a party and a world happening outside Cavanagh's study. They broke away slightly, both listening to the unmistakable sound of Annie calling for her. Bette closed her eyes and swore, suddenly afraid that if she opened them, she would see regret in Tina's eyes. Instead, she felt Tina's lips touching hers lightly, smiling into her mouth. Her eyes flickered open, and Tina gave her a coy smile, both eyes crinkling as she attempted to wink.
"C'mon, we better move," she said, squeezing Bette's hand as she stood.
"I don't think we should - if they see us-" Bette started, looking down at the hand that was still in Tina's.
"Absolutely not," Tina agreed, and gently let go of Bette's hand. Her racing thought screeched to a halt as her breathing returned to normal, the gravity of what had just happened tugging at her.
"We should probably talk about—" Bette tried to say, but was interrupted by hearing her name for a third time, this time closer to the door. Tina looked up at her thoughtfully, blonde hair slightly tousled.
"We will, I promise," she said as the door swung open, Annie's figure in the doorway. Both women took an involuntary step apart, and Bette's face assumed what she hoped was a convincing smile.
"Annie, hey. I was just showing Tina the collection, Cav's, his… artefacts," she said, rubbing the back of her neck and beaming at the woman before her. If Annie had noticed anything, she was respectful enough not to bring it up.
"Oh, no trouble at all, you know to help yourself around here, honey. Anyway, I didn't want you to miss out on the sweet treats before those rascals demolish them. I made peach cobbler, just for you," she added as they walked towards her, Tina leading the way out into the hall.
"My favourite!" Bette paused to thank Annie as she passed her. Annie beamed, and grabbed Bette gently on the arm, waiting to check that Tina was out of earshot.
"You let me know if I have to learn anyone else's favourite, won't you?" Annie raised her eyebrows questioningly. Bette's stomach dropped, panic flickering in her eyes. The last thing she and Tina needed was for Cavanagh or anyone else to catch wind of whatever was going on between them. It wouldn't be fair to Tina, who was still finding her footing in the new environment, or to herself, after she had painstakingly tried to rebuild the barrier between her personal and professional life.
"I don't… it's not what—" Bette started, but Annie hushed her with an understanding smile and a reassuring squeeze on her shoulder.
"It's alright, sweet pea, I know the score. My lips are sealed. But you just let me know, okay? Either way," she assured her, and Bette's face relaxed into a sheepish grin as she thanked Annie. "Go on, now,"
Bette stepped back into the bustling yard, where the party was now truly in full swing. The garden sparkled with tiny lights, casting a magical glow over the scene. Despite the festive atmosphere, Bette's mind was a whirlwind of uncertainty and euphoria, wondering if she had imagined the last few moments, and if not, whether it was just all the champagne talking.
Bette surveyed the scene from the deck, trying to regain her composure. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits, oblivious to the fact that her world had just tilted. She caught sight of Tina's back; her smooth, pale shoulders exposed, and felt her stomach flutter nervously. She picked up a serving of peach cobbler even though she couldn't imagine eating a single bite at that moment. Descending into the grassy area of the yard, Bette watched Tina chatting with Myers, a plate of cake in one hand and a fork in her other. Even the way Tina held the fork seemed attractive to Bette now, Tina's fingers loosely wrapped around the metal as she listened attentively to Myers. Olivia looked up as she approached, and raised a drunken eyebrow in question. Bette forced a broad smile as she entered the conversation, avoiding eye contact with her teetering friend; Olivia knew her too well for her to see the expression in her eyes right now.  The music swelled, and the sky turned towards a deep, inky black. In the moonlight and the soft glow of the garden lights, Tina's profile seemed even more enchanting. As she sat down and got speaking to Olivia, Bette could feel Tina's eyes on her, and each time she looked, Tina was already watching her with a soft smile. Bette itched for a moment alone with her, to figure out what, if anything, the kiss had meant. But she also harboured the fear that it might not mean anything, just a momentary blip between two people thrown together by circumstance.
Almost an hour passed before Tina declared she was leaving, pointing out that she had an early start the next morning, and began saying goodbye to everyone. Olivia wrestled Tina into a bear hug, almost causing both of them to topple over. Bette chuckled and shook her head as she watched. She offered to walk Tina out, and they made their way past a few lingering guests at the front, walking down the steep driveway in silence. Bette held the ornate iron gate open for Tina as she passed through it. It was quiet out on the street, the hum of the party just audible behind them while they waited.
"It wasn't so bad, was it?" Bette felt compelled to break the silence.
"It wasn't, actually. I think I even upgraded from 'the transfer' to acquaintance with a few people. Olivia seems to be… having a blast," Tina replied.
"She's shitfaced, is that what you're trying to say?" Bette smirked.
"Something like that. I hope she's not planning to drive," Tina replied with a smile. Both women laughed softly.
Bette sighed. "I think she's been under a lot of pressure lately. You don't see her let her hair down like this very often. But no, she’s definitely not driving. I promised to make sure she gets home safe."
"You're a good friend," Tina said quietly.
"Sometimes," Bette shrugged, her mind preoccupied with the unresolved tension between them. She struggled with how to bring up the earlier moment in the study, to at least say something about the elephant in the room, but as she started speaking Tina stepped forward and silenced her with a gentle kiss. Feeling as though she could dissolve into her soft lips, Bette was grateful for the cover of the front yard shadows, shielding them from any prying eyes from the party. She didn't have the mental capacity to decipher its meaning, just that the sensation of kissing Tina was exhilarating. Tina pressed her body closer, intensifying the kiss, her hand slipping around to rest on the small of Bette's back just as Bette slid her tongue past Tina's lips.
"I couldn't leave without doing that again," Tina murmured after a moment, their breath mingling as their noses brushed against each other. Bette threaded their fingers, brushing her knuckles against the soft fabric of Tina's dress, her stomach somersaulting as she felt the outline of her firm thigh beneath. The headlights of the approaching cab swept over them as it pulled in towards the curb.
"Are you sure you have to leave?" Bette whispered into her mouth, her feet rooted in place as her body flushed.
"You could come with me," Tina's eyes flashed up at her from beneath her dark lashes as the question rattled through Bette like a lightning bolt, her champagne buzz now rippling through to her fingertips. 
"I — I wish I could," Bette replied quietly. In a more sober state, she could have probably thought of a few solid reasons that it might not be a good idea, but in that moment only one stood out to her - the highly intoxicated best friend, who would likely need an escort inside her front door later. Tina nodded in understanding and gave a final squeeze of Bette's hands before releasing them. Bette's arms fell lifelessly to her sides as Tina reached for the car door. Turning back, she lifted her chin in a farewell.
"Guess I'll just see you tomorrow then, Porter." she grinned, and Bette watched as she closed the door, disappearing into the night.

Later, as the cab glided along the main road towards Olivia's apartment, Bette stared out of the window, the city lights blurring into streaks of colour. For the past two hours, she had suppressed the urge to examine what had happened between her and Tina. Now, in the quiet sanctuary of the backseat, she let the thoughts rise to the surface and a small smile of disbelief graced her lips, contrasting with the growing knot of anticipation in her stomach. Going from constantly irritated by Tina's sheer presence to feeling completely captivated by her was a sharp divergence from how she had seen their partnership playing out. Bette knew that later, when she tried to sleep, her mind would be consumed by anxiety and self-doubt. But for now, she allowed herself to savour the memory of Tina's lips against hers, her body pressed close, unwilling to rush into the inevitable self-criticism that awaited her in the quiet hours before dawn.
Olivia loudly cleared her throat from the seat next to her.
"What's up?" Bette asked, turning to face her.
Her friend shot her a suspicious glance, gesturing towards her. "That look. Your face. What's with that?"
"Considering your eyes are practically crossed, I'm surprised you can see my face at all." Bette teased.
"You're smiling," Olivia pointed out insistently.
"I'm allowed to smile, Liv. Just had a good night, that's all," Bette brushed off.
"Not buying it. Speak," Olivia demanded.
Bette hesitated, eyeing her determined, slightly tipsy friend. She knew Olivia well enough to realise she wouldn't relent until she spilled the beans. Reluctantly, Bette offered a condensed version of recent events, Olivia listening intently until Bette reached the crucial part of the story.
"And then we kissed," Bette finished quietly, her eyes looking down at her hands in the dim light.
Olivia shot up in her seat, a gasp escaping her. "You WHAT?"
"Shh, Liv! Yes, we kissed, okay?" Bette replied, rubbing her temples.
"How did it happen? What happened after? How did you leave it?" Olivia bombarded her with questions as Bette struggled to respond to the rapid-fire interrogation. "Oh, this is going to get complicated," Olivia teased until she saw Bette’s warning glance. "Or maybe not! Maybe it'll be fine! Wait, do you like her?" Olivia asked, her expression sheer excitement.
Bette sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I don't know, Liv. It's not like I planned it. At first, I couldn't stand her, but then... She's kind, and intelligent. Not just intelligent, Liv, like she's brilliant. And she's... well, she's obviously beautiful, and genuine, and I just... I don't know. Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe it was… but we kissed, and now I'm just-" She chewed nervously on her nail as she found the right words. "We finally found a rhythm working together, and now I'm afraid I've thrown everything off by being attracted to her."
"But she kissed you too, right? And you're smiling about it," Olivia pressed, her words slightly slurred as she grinned. Bette nudged her playfully, and Olivia gave a hoot of glee as sank deeper into her seat.
"How did you get so drunk, Liv? I'm going to call your mother," Bette joked.
"You wouldn't dare," Olivia snorted, straightening up and turning a little more serious as she glanced out the window, eyes fixed on the passing houses. "I don't know, B. I just... one drink led to another. I've got a lot on my mind, and it just felt good to forget about it all, I guess,"
"Are you stressed about work? Is that what's bothering you?" Bette asked, holding a little more serious concern now.
"That's the start of it," Olivia said after a pause before she waved it off. "Anyway, it's not your problem. You've got your own shit to deal with now, baby," she giggled. Her cackling grew, spilling out until she was practically doubled over.
"What's so funny, Liv? Come on, give me a break, please! I don't know what to do. Have I fucked up here?" Bette asked, exasperated.
"That's not it," Olivia managed between giggles, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "It’s just… You kissed this gorgeous woman who's got you all starry-eyed, and now you're stuck taking my drunk ass home instead of hers," she wheezed, dissolving into laughter once more. Bette smirked and shoved Olivia's shoulder before she gave in, letting herself see the humour in that facet of the situation, at least.
"You're completely ridiculous, Liv. I swear, I'm never telling you anything again, you hear me?" Bette shook her head, grinning despite her exasperation.


The following morning, still a little groggy from a late night, Bette cast a fleeting glance at her reflection before shutting her flimsy locker door. After seeing Olivia home safely and returning to her own place, she'd wrestled with her thoughts, endlessly unlocking her phone to text Tina but finding herself at a loss for words each time. She must have drifted off at some point, waking with a dull headache and a dry throat - familiar only to those who had indulged a bit too much to drink before bed. As the headache began to ebb away, Bette decided a coffee would do the trick to banish it completely. She had hoped to arrive at work before Tina, a little uneasy and apprehensive about what the atmosphere would be. Bette had cautiously resigned herself to the possibility that Tina might want to sweep their kiss under the rug as a drunken mistake - a concept she found hard to stomach, but was reluctantly prepared to accept. Once might be a mistake, but twice? 'You could come with me.' She had said that, Bette was certain. As she made her way down the corridor toward the stairs, her mind replayed their entanglement the previous night, with a quiet and hopeful corner of her thoughts wondering which place in the city had the best pistachio ice cream. She looked up to see Tina descending the stairs, expression unreadable and her lips pressed into a firm line. Bette slowed her pace, waiting for Tina to reach the bottom step.
"I need to talk to you," Tina said quietly, her hand resting briefly on Bette's arm before leading the way back towards the locker room, retracing Bette's steps. Once inside, Tina looked around the empty space, making sure they were alone before returning to stand in front of Bette. There was a  seriousness in Tina's expression, her usual spark somewhat dimmed this morning. Bette took a steadying breath before taking the opportunity to start.
"I'm sorry about last night," Bette began. She wanted to apologise, but for what exactly - for not going home with her? For the kiss? In a way she couldn't quite explain to herself, she wanted to give Tina the chance to chalk it up to a misjudgement.
But Tina's response caught her off guard. "That's not why I needed to talk to you—wait, what do you mean you're sorry about-" Tina's brows knotted in confusion, momentarily distracted before she shook her head and continued. "Actually, no, there's something you have to see—" Tina started but Bette cut her off, summoning some deep rooted courage from within, determined to be honest in the moment.
"I know it was not what either of us expected, and maybe a bit soon, or it could have been all that champagne. And no, we didn't exactly hit it off initially, and I've only known you for a little over a week - it might surprise you but I wouldn't normally be so impulsive, and I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable," Bette continued, flustered as she disregarded Tina's attempt to interrupt her rambling. "But, Tina you didn't seem uncomfortable, and if you weren't, or if you aren't, I wouldn't mind... Exploring that a bit more, or maybe spending some time together outside of all this. But I understand if it's a lot for you, especially since you're new here and don't really know anyone or probably even trust anyone. Plus, I was definitely a bit of an ass to you for the first few days, well okay, maybe more—"
"Bette, please, listen to me," Tina pleaded, gently grabbing Bette's wrist mid-gesture. The use of her first name finally made her stop and register Tina’s earnest expression, and the seriousness of her tone.
"What - what is it?" Bette tilted her head.
"The CCTV footage from Swan Street came in, from the night of Taylor's murder. Taylor went into a diner just after seven," Tina began, her eyes more sombre than Bette had seen before.
"And?” She searched Tina’s face for an answer. “What aren't you telling me?"
Tina released Bette's hand and rubbed at her own neck. "And Warren went in straight after him."

Chapter Text

"What - what is it?" Bette tilted her head. 
"The CCTV footage from Swan Street came in, from the night of Taylor's murder. Taylor went into a diner just after seven," Tina began, her eyes more sombre than Bette had seen before.
"And?” She searched Tina’s face for an answer. “What aren't you telling me?"
Tina released Bette's hand and rubbed at her own neck. "And Warren went in straight after him."

Bette's mouth fell open as she locked eyes with Tina, grappling to comprehend the words she was saying. Still reeling from her impassioned outburst, her heart thundered beneath her ribs, her mind trying to keep pace with the change of course.

"What do you mean? Warren who - our Warren?" Her words tumbled out in disbelief as she shook her head, taking a step back.  "What would he be doing - he can't... you must be mistaken," Bette protested. She studied Tina, a challenge in her eyes. With a quiet sigh, Tina continued. "I can show you. I don't think I'm wrong about this."

Tina's earnest gaze held Bette's, her eyes clouded with concern. She struggled to reconcile the image of him committing a homicide. Warren was many things—a conniving manipulator, an expert in underhanded tactics—but a killer? Her thoughts churned quickly, each one vying for attention. "And you're sure that -" Bette started, but Tina's expression stopped her short. With her hands starting to sweat, the adrenaline slowly spread to Bette's extremities as the information started to sink in. "Who else has seen it?"

“Nobody. The feed landed in my inbox early this morning, and I’ve been going over it by myself since then. It’s definitely him. I’m sorry.”
Bette's eyes darted to the clock. “Well, it won’t be just you for long.”  All incoming evidence items were allocated upstream notifications, meaning that whoever Tina reported to—which was Cavanagh—would be alerted as soon as he opened his email that morning. Bette stared at her in disbelief, and threw her hand up in exasperation and Tina gave her a puzzled look with a flash of annoyance.

“What?”

“You didn’t call me. Again!” Bette scoffed, shaking her head as she looked at her feet, irritation bubbling to the surface yet again. “When are you going to start trusting me?”

Tina matched her tone without hesitation, nostrils flaring. "I do trust you! You're the only one I trust, especially now. But I needed to be absolutely certain before I brought it to you. It isn't exactly the kind of conversation I wanted to have over the phone."

Although she could see where Tina was coming from, she felt the frustration clawing at her. Why hadn't Tina reached out earlier, even for a quick heads-up? It seemed like a small gesture that could have spared them a heated exchange. Despite the fleeting embarrassment over her earlier outburst, Bette pushed those feelings aside, determined to focus solely on the situation at hand. Her defensive stance hardened. 

"What, so now you think Warren killed Taylor?" 

Tina raised her hands in an attempt at a  placating gesture. "I'm not jumping to any conclusions, Porter. We definitely don't have enough evidence yet, but what we do have doesn't look good. He is so shady—"

"He's always been shady," Bette interjected, rolling her eyes.

"Will you just let me finish, please?" Tina snapped, shooting Bette a pointed look. Bette begrudgingly complied, gesturing for her to continue. "Fine, his personality aside, there is the CCTV footage and the ballistics report identifying  the Colt Sentinel. Didn’t you say your father, Olivia’s mother, everyone here at that point in time had one of those? And some of them still have one? Is it really such a stretch that Warren, whose father was here at that point in time also, had access to one as well?" Tina asked, her voice steady.

It wasn’t that the idea was far-fetched. Looking at it objectively, Tina's logic added up. However, the notion of betrayal from within their own ranks struck a chord deep within Bette. Her heart sank as she closed her eyes. Tina's hand found its way to her shoulder and gave her a squeeze of reassurance.

"We need to report this," Tina's voice was gentle, resolute. "Even if it turns out to be nothing."

Bette knew that Tina didn’t have the history of the relationships to contend with, or the sheer volume of emotion clouding her judgement. "You don’t think it’s nothing.”

Lifting her eyes to meet Bette’s, Tina shook her head gently. “No, I don’t.”

"Is he upstairs?"

Tina's nod was met with Bette's distant stare, her mind racing to formulate a plan. The situation called for delicate handling, every move from now needed to be calculated. She rested her chin on her steepled fingers, leaning against the locker with a low sigh.

"I have to be the one to do it—to raise it. It can't be you," Bette said firmly as she made her decision.

Tina seemed on the verge of protest, but ultimately offered a tight-lipped grimace of understanding. They both knew the implications of Tina, with the rumours surrounding her past, being the one to report a fellow detective on suspicion of a crime. It would only serve to increase the scrutiny and hostility from their colleagues, potentially shutting her out completely. Bette's stomach tightened at the thought of accusing one of their own, but she knew it had to be done. Warren was far from her favourite person, but he was still part of their unit, part of their family. She shook her head, struggling with the concept of his involvement.

"There has to be another explanation," Bette mused aloud, watching Tina as she idly nudged a mark on the linoleum floor with her boot.

"Then we try to find it. If there's any plausible reason for him to have been there on the night of Taylor's murder, however unlikely that is-"

"We can’t un-ring this bell, Tina! I'm not ruling anything out, I'm just trying to prepare myself for whatever comes next." Bette interrupted again. "But you're right—we need to talk to him, now. Clear this up before it gets out of hand."

"I didn't say we should question him." Tina replied, but Bette pressed on. With a decisive clap of her hands against her thighs, Bette straightened her stance, equal parts determined and apprehensive. She still strongly felt that this was some kind of misunderstanding or coincidence, and all she had to do now was prove it. They walked towards the door, the sound of their boots dull against the floor.

"Can we even question him without Cavanagh knowing, or formalising this?" Tina asked, her voice uncertain as they paused outside the door. She already knew the answer, but hesitated to add another obstacle in Bette's path.

Bette scoffed again. “I don’t know, but I’m doing it anyway. Either come with me or don’t. But considering this is coming from you, I would think you’d like to get the answers from the source.”

Her expression fell as she heard Bette's words, but as always she remained outwardly composed. Bette heard her own sharpness, but it felt like the only way she knew how to respond—the development had thrown her off balance. Everything had shifted off-kilter since she stepped through the door that morning, leaving her a little disoriented, full of anger and injustice. Clenching her fists, she tried to shake off the bitterness that had replaced her earlier optimism. A wave of guilt washed over her at her reaction, wishing again that she knew how to handle things differently, wishing the incriminating CCTV footage hadn't come to light. Despite the unease in her stomach, she held onto the hope that there would be a reasonable explanation for it all.

She barrelled up the stairs, taking them two at a time with Tina close behind. There was no time for pleasantries, Bette decided. Once she had seen the footage, she was going to confront him directly. Tina led her to one of the smaller meeting rooms where she settled in front of a computer screen displaying the footage that had been captured by a doorbell camera from an apartment adjacent to the diner. Though a bit grainy and the angle imperfect, the video clearly showed the front door of the diner in the bottom left corner of the screen. Bette stood behind her, peering over her shoulder as she clicked the mouse to advance the video clip. Squinting, she could make out several figures inside the diner—patrons seated at tables, others standing at the counter. She attempted to push aside the familiar scent rising gently from Tina—a soft mix of bergamot and citrus but her mind betrayed her, involuntarily transporting her back to the previous night. Her eyes glazed over as she leaned into the memory of standing on the street with her, feeling the gentle pressure of her hand on Bette's lower back as their lips met.

"Here," Tina's soft voice thankfully interrupted her thoughts. Following Tina's finger on the screen, Bette's focus sharpened as she saw the familiar figure of Taylor crossing the parking lot, glancing over his shoulder before disappearing through the door. Bette exhaled slowly, wondering whether Taylor had any inkling that he wouldn't live to see the morning, feeling a bitter sadness at the waste of a human life. What was it all for? Determination rose within her again, pledging to hold someone accountable. As the video continued to roll, two figures emerged from the building, followed shortly by a car passing across the screen. Bette was not known for her patience.

"How long until-" Bette began, but she didn't need to finish. Warren's unmistakable profile appeared on the screen, walking up the ramp to the entrance, then going inside. Although she couldn't deny it was him, she wanted to see it once more. "Run it back again. Please," she added, and they watched the scene unfold once more in silence.

Pausing the screen, Tina ran her fingers through her golden hair, a few strands falling loosely around her crown before she turned in her seat, meeting Bette's gaze with a sombre expression.

"Shit, shit, shit." Bette muttered, gesturing at the screen. "But what was he doing there? Bold as brass, walking into that place right after him?"

Tina lifted her fingers and rubbed her chin. "Your guess is as good as mine, but it doesn't look good, does it?"

Bette crossed her arms and stole a glance at the watch nestled against her chest, estimating she had around ten minutes before Cavanagh arrived and checked his inbox. Scanning the bullpen, she spotted Warren hunched over a desk. With a crumpled shirt and bags under his eyes, he definitely wasn't looking his smarmy self these days. Despite his appearance, his smug smirk remained intact when he noticed her, but it dropped slightly at the sight of her serious expression. She nodded toward the room, and he walked over to join them.

"An early morning audience with the infamous Bette Porter, to what do I owe the pleasure?" he drawled, catching sight of Tina and offering a nod in greeting.

"Warren, sit down," Bette commanded, making sure he knew it wasn't an invitation. He abandoned his usual sleazy stance and took a seat next to Tina, glancing at the screen.

"What have you got—two isn't enough, you need a third pair of eyes?" he quipped, but Bette shut him down immediately.

"Please, just shut up. I'm not messing around now," she said, her patience paper thin. Warren's shoulders dropped, his eyes becoming more serious as he sensed the atmosphere in the room.

"What is it?" he asked. Tina gave Bette a nod, and she set the video to play. As they watched the footage of Taylor entering the building followed by Warren, Bette studied him intently, searching for any hint of a reaction. Warren's face remained unreadable, although he appeared slightly puzzled beneath his focus.

The video came to a stop, leaving an empty frame on the screen. Bette fixed her sights on Warren, her jaw firm. As she spoke, she leaned forward slightly, her hands resting on the table in front of her. "Warren, can you explain why you're in this footage, following Taylor into a diner just hours before he was killed?"

He sniffed dismissively, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "Like that's supposed to mean something?"

"Warren, please. What were you doing there? Were you meeting him?" Her voice remained steady, but her eyes bore into him.

"Is this official?" he asked as his eyes darted between Bette and the screen.

"Not yet, Warren, but I can't help you unless I know what's going on." Bette leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Oh, you would love that, wouldn't you?" Warren retorted.

"Cut the shit. Why didn't you come forward?"

"And say what? I had a coffee at a diner? Do I have to report everywhere I go outside of this building to you now?" He was becoming more hostile as he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. Bette cast a quick glance towards the bullpen, noting the increasing number of people as time approached the start of the morning briefing. Cavanagh's office remained dark, indicating he hadn't arrived yet.

"Don't fuck with me Warren. What's going on?" Bette's tone was sharp, her eyes fixed on him.

"I went for a coffee, at a local diner as is my right, and then I went home. I don't have anything else to tell you."

Tina came in, her voice calm but insistent. "Can anyone verify that?"

Warren's frustration boiled over. "Are you serious right now?" he snapped, his eyes flickering between Bette and Tina.

Ignoring his outburst, Bette pressed on. "What about Rita?" Despite the circumstances, she wanted to give him a chance to provide an alibi, and thought maybe his fiancée could vouch for him coming home.

"Rita's out of the picture, Porter." His voice was clipped and cold.

Shit, Bette thought as she ran a hand over her face, her voice strained in response. "You understand how this looks, don't you?"

"No, I know how you want it to look, Porter. Or more likely how you want it to look," Warren shot back, directing his accusation at Tina.

"Enough!" Bette cried as the clock edged closer to 8am. "You've been all over the place lately—coming in late, calling out sick—and you look like shit, to be frank. And on top of that, you're on camera following a murder victim, a key informant in the Dominic operation, into a diner just before he ends up dead. That's how it looks, Warren."

"I didn't sign up for this," he spat.

"Then what did you sign up for? Working for Dominic? Taylor was a problem for both sides, so you decided to take him out of the equation?"

Warren shook his head, shooting daggers at Bette. "You have no idea what you're getting mixed up in here," he warned.

"Then explain it to me! Because any minute now, Cav is going to sit down at his desk and see that footage, and it's going to make things a lot worse," Bette pleaded urgently.

"This is utter bullshit," Warren muttered. Bette exchanged a puzzled look with Tina, both of them thrown off by Warren's reaction. Almost on cue, the sound of Cavanagh's booming voice echoed outside the door as he came up the stairs. They were almost out of time.

"Shit," Tina groaned, and she and Warren began to rise from their chairs.

Bette raised her hand, signalling for them to stay put. "Warren, quit messing around. There has to be a simple explanation for all of this,"

"I'm not saying anything until Internal Affairs knows what's going on," Warren declared.

"What the hell does IAB have to do with this?" she spluttered. The three detectives glanced outside the room again, all clocking Cavanagh emerging from his office, his eyes scanning until landing on them in the meeting room.

Urgently, Bette whispered, "What are you talking about - you're going to get held for this! Just tell me why the hell you were meeting with Taylor!" Cavanagh's footsteps drew nearer.

"You want to help me? Follow the money, Porter. Follow the dirty money," Warren replied cryptically.

"Whose fucking-" Tina motioned for Bette to lower her voice. "Whose money? Was Dominic paying you off? Blackmailing you?" Bette fired off the questions rapidly, desperation colouring her voice as time ran short. Warren remained stoic, his expression revealing nothing. Too soon, Cavanagh cleared his throat from the doorway.

Bette pivoted to face him, hearing Tina and Warren rise to their feet. Cavanagh stood with his hands on his hips, a formidable presence in the doorway. His blue eyes scanned the room, assessing the detectives before him. Bette shifted uncomfortably under his stare. She explicitly knew she shouldn't have spoken to Warren before reporting up to Cavanagh. But she couldn't miss her chance to get answers first hand.

"Warren, I think you'd better come with me," Cavanagh said gruffly. His tone and expression revealed little, but Bette knew better than to ask. In her periphery, she noticed Warren lean in, whispering something almost imperceptible in Tina's ear. Tina's eyes narrowed, but she concealed her reaction, barely acknowledging the message. Bette closed her eyes briefly as Warren passed by her and followed Cavanagh out the door. The room felt suddenly cavernous, deflated. The ticking of the clock overhead seemed to amplify as Tina let out a low whistle, sinking back into her chair, Bette following suit. The frozen image on the screen glowed back at them silently.

"I still don't like it," Tina muttered, absently picking at her thumbnail. "He didn't have an answer, didn't even try to defend himself, not really."

"I know. I don't like it either, but if it were me, I'd want him to have my back," Bette replied.

"But it wouldn't be you, Porter. That's my point. You wouldn't find yourself in this situation," Tina retorted, her cheeks flushing with frustration.

"You're condemning him without all the facts!" Bette protested.

Tina waved her hand at the screen, her tone sharp. "He had the chance to provide those facts, and he didn't. Doesn't that strike you as even a little suspicious?"

Bette spoke evenly, unclenching her fists and spreading her tense fingers in front of her. "Of course it does, Tina. But then, him bringing up IAB..."

Tina had almost reached her limit of reasoning. "Exactly! Internal Affairs Bureau. Police corruption, Porter."

"It's not always corruption," Bette snapped back, her brief effort to resume calm forgotten as the tension between them returned to their familiar pattern of bickering.

"You can't tell me that's not their primary focus, though - rooting out serious misconduct and corruption." Tina argued.

Bette huffed defensively. "Not everyone is corrupt, Tina. I know you've had your experiences, but..."

Tina's voice grew heated, and she turned to face Bette squarely. "Oh, nice. Blame it all on me because you're too proud to admit there could be a crack in your Riverbank family portrait."

Tina's cheeks flushed, a clear sign that Bette's words had struck a nerve. In the dim light of the room, Bette could see the hurt splashed across Tina's features, and her initial instinct was to retaliate. Instead, she found herself softening.

"I'm sorry," Bette said, the words feeling foreign on her tongue. Retreating wasn't her usual style, but she knew deep down that preserving their partnership—and whatever else was going on between them—was more important than winning an argument. "I'm sorry, alright? I'm just not sure how I'm supposed to be reacting to everything right now."

Tina's shoulders sagged slightly, her defensive stance easing as she guessed that Bette's statement might extend beyond their current disagreement.

"I keep telling you, I'm on your side, you know?" Tina offered, frowning slightly.

"I know. And I'm sorry. Sometimes I just think that I'm hardwired to challenge everything, and I don't know how to stop," Bette admitted. She picked at the edge of the desk, barely daring to look at the woman beside her.

"Challenging is part of what makes you who you are, and I like that about you. But please, stop fighting me."

Bette nodded, her lips forming a small, apologetic smile before she went to stand. "Hey, what did he say to you before he left?" Her curiosity was piqued, her brow furrowing slightly.

Tina gave her a bewildered look. "He said, 'it’s not about cutting off an arm of the monster, it’s about killing the monster'. Does that mean anything to you?"

"Monster?" Bette repeated. She rubbed her temples as she tried to make sense of it. "No. Not at all. In fact, I think I'm more confused now." They both glanced up as the distant murmur of the crowd grew louder.

"It's almost eight," Tina said, pushing herself up from her chair with a weary sigh. Bette took her cue, smoothing out the wrinkles that had formed on her shirt. Without a second thought, she reached out and caught hold of Tina's wrist as she moved to pass by.

"Hey," Bette said softly. Tina glanced down at the dark fingers encircling her wrist, meeting Bette's eyes with a hint of curiosity. "I'm sorry, truly. And I think we should talk."

"About what?" Tina asked.

Bette took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of Tina's skin beneath her touch. "About last night."

Tina's eyes flicked up to the clock, noting their lateness. "Now?"

"No, not now," Bette clarified quickly. "But soon. We should talk."

Tina nodded slowly. "I do want to talk about it, I promise. But not here, not like this, okay? Right in the middle of all this, whatever this is. That's not how I want to have this conversation with you."

This conversation, Bette mused, the niggling fear of rejection resurfacing from where she had shoved it down earlier.

"Do you regret it?"

The words slipped out before Bette could catch them, before she could re-frame them to sound less raw. Tina paused, her eyes thoughtful as she considered the question. The silence stretched on, leaving Bette to exhale quietly in disappointment as she braced herself for the response. Eventually, Tina moved her hand, gently hooking her index finger onto Bette's.

"How could I?" she whispered, her lips curving into a smile.

Bette's chest tightened at Tina's words, relief washing over her. "Okay," she grinned.

"Okay," Tina echoed softly as they released each other's hands and headed towards the briefing room together.

Monday mornings were the same the world over, no matter the job or the city, and Riverbank was no exception. It was a bleary-eyed group of detectives who gathered in the stuffy room, some visibly carrying payment for their overindulgence of alcohol at Cavanagh's last night. The morning briefing passed without incident, devoid of any mention of Warren's situation. Usually laser-focused, Bette found herself detached, her mind a speeding carousel that refused to slow down. She stood against the side wall, arms folded tightly across her chest, barely registering Cavanagh's voice as he delivered the agenda. Each word felt distant and muffled against the racket her clamouring thoughts. Between Tina and Warren, it was a relentless barrage of emotions, hitting her from all sides with no respite. Even Tina seemed affected, the incessant crossing and uncrossing of her legs not unnoticed by Bette.
Lost in her thoughts, Bette only snapped back to reality when the murmurs of her shuffling colleagues filled the room, and she realised the briefing had ended. Operating on autopilot, her feet carried her along the familiar path to Cavanagh's office. Whether it was for guidance or admonishment she wasn't sure. Initially lingering outside his door, she eventually decided to go inside, settling into a seat before restlessness took over. Unable to be still, she rose to her feet and paced the room in a futile attempt to make sense of her thoughts. Cavanagh's office was unchanged, its usual chaos both comforting and jarring. Her fingers idly traced the spines of the books on his shelf. Startled by the soft click of the door closing behind her, she spun around to find Cavanagh leaning against the back of the door.

"Hey, kiddo." His voice was weary, absent was his usual gusto as his kind eyes rested on her.

"Where's Warren?" she asked immediately, her back finding support against the bookshelf behind her. Cavanagh bowed his head.

"He's downstairs."

"In holding?" Bette's eyes widened.

"No, I think he deserves a bit more dignity than that. This isn't something that I’m going to take lightly. He's settled in the staff lounge for now." The staff lounge was a seldom used for its intended purpose, overshadowed by the busy coffee room on the main floor. Bette pictured Warren in that neglected space, surrounded by worn-out couches, dim lighting, and a miscellaneous graveyard of damaged office furniture.

"What happens now?" she asked, trying to keep the uncertainty out of her voice.

Cavanagh exhaled loudly, puffing out his cheeks. "It's going up to the Internal Affairs Bureau. As his colleagues, we can't question him. But you'll have an in with them as the lead detective on the case he's implicated in," he explained, scratching at his stubble as he walked slowly across the small room. Bette glanced out of the window, catching sight of Tina's blonde hair at her desk, her head moving slightly as she read the paper in front of her.

"What did he say when you showed him the footage?" 

"I didn't—" Bette started, but Cavanagh cut her off.

"Porter, don't bother spinning me a story. I can read you like a highway sign. Out with it," he said with a small laugh, shaking his head. Bette sighed, realising there was no point in trying to avoid the question.

"He barely said anything to defend himself!" she replied with frustration. "He didn't bite when I brought up Taylor or Dominic. I gave him so many opportunities, and before you ask, I didn’t come down hard on him."

"That's a first," Cavanagh replied dryly.

"Look, we're not the best of friends, and we never will be. But I just can't believe he would be involved in this, in any capacity. I don't want him to go down for something he didn't do. It isn't right," she explained, her words followed by a muttered remark. "Even if he is a dick."

"Your words, not mine," Cavanagh said.

Bette arched an eyebrow. "You disagree?"

"I didn't say that, did I?" Cavanagh countered, a hint of his usual mischievous grin just discernible. "Well, he didn't admit anything, which gives us both some hope. And if they don't find any further evidence to tie him to it, this will all just be a bad memory. It's up to Internal Affairs now. They'll read up on it, question him, and likely execute a search."

"They don't move quickly," Bette commented bitterly. 

Cavanagh shrugged in agreement and paused before speaking thoughtfully. "Well that could work in our favour, if you think about it."

Bette furrowed her brow, almost physically feeling the whirring of gears in her mind. "We… should we have his place searched?" she asked tentatively, feeling more unsure by the second.

"Kiddo, I can't answer that for you. Ultimately it's your case, your evidence - well, Kennard's evidence, but she's your partner on this."

"Can we even do that? Don't we have to wait for Internal Affairs?"

"You're a Senior Detective in this precinct, and the lead on this case. That means something to Internal Affairs. If that's your decision, then I'll handle them for you."

The conflict weighed on her, causing her to stand up straight, her breaths deep and deliberate. "Cav, I don't know what to do here." she admitted, her hands finding their place on her hips. "I don't want to jump on him, violate his privacy, and have this spread around the precinct before we even know what's really going on. If there is something going on. But if it is something bad - I don't want to have waited to act. How am I supposed to have the answers?" The pressure in her head intensified, and she cursed herself inwardly as tears threatened to spill over. "I don't know what to do," she added quietly. He moved closer to her and gripped her shoulders.

"Sometimes we have to make the hard calls, and they're harder when it's on your doorstep. You're the lead detective on this. If you think you have enough to warrant a search of his property and possessions, and you think it is justified - or even if you don't. Either way, you have a decision to make. Whatever you decide, I’ll support you."

Her stomach twisted, a knot of anxiety growing with every passing second. She tried to imagine what Tina would do, so calm and adept at navigating a storm. Every outcome Bette envisioned was bleak—if she sat on her hands and waited for Internal Affairs, who knew how long that process would drag on? And if she led the search and came up empty-handed, the damage to Warren's reputation, as well as her and Tina's credibility, would be irreparable. They would be sidelined and cold-shouldered until the end of time. Or, even worse, if she put together a team to search his home and they found something incriminating—that would be the ultimate betrayal. Bette rubbed at her temples, willing a solution to materialise in front of her, before she snapped her head up decisively.

"Let's do it. If for no reason other than to clear him. He's a jerk but if it were me, I would want those guys out there to be doing everything they could to exonerate me."

"You're absolutely sure about this?" Cavanagh asked, genuine concern for her in his eyes. She threw her hands up in the air.

"As sure as I can be," she said.

"Well, alright then. I'll speak to IAB now, see if I can get them on board for you to get a head start. Hopefully prove that he's got nothing to do with it, before the whole thing gets legs and runs away from us." He moved around his desk, the seat groaning underneath him as he sat down. Bette flickered her attention back out to the space outside Cavanagh's office, everyone moving around as if all was normal. Across the room, she locked eyes with Tina, who shot her a quizzical expression, raising her eyebrows in a silent question.

"Can I assume you're taking Kennard with you?" He had the phone cradled between his ear and his shoulder, and she could hear the tinny whine of the hold music as he tapped away on the keyboard with his pudgy fingers. Bette nodded, and shoved her hands deep into her pockets. Cavanagh grunted. "She's got her head screwed on straight, that one. Annie's a big fan, by the way."

Bette peered at him, searching for anything between the lines of his expression, but his face remained impassive and focused on the screen ahead. With a sigh, she shifted her attention back to the shelves, trailing her finger along the dark wood and leaving behind a faint line in the dust.

"How do you know if you're making the right call?" she asked quietly. He had always worn his confidence proudly, his decisions seeming effortless and so assured. She had never questioned whether it was experience, intuition, or a mix of both that led him to be such a dependable driving force.

He raised his chin and eyed her with contemplation. "Sometimes, the right choice is simply the best out of a bad bunch, kiddo. And other times, the rightness of a choice only becomes clear in hindsight."

Wholly unhelpful, Bette thought. As he spoke on the phone negotiating a local search operation with IAB, she paced restlessly around his cluttered office, half-absorbing his words. Eventually, he paused his conversation and covered the receiver, motioning towards the door.

"Forensics will join you there. I want updates as and when they happen, understood?"

Bette nodded, and was out the door in an instant.

Chapter Text

Thinking back, Bette realised she had never stepped foot inside Warren's home. Though she distinctly remembered driving him home on a few occasions over the years, she couldn’t remember ever going in. Over time, the long working relationships amongst the team had extended beyond the precinct—people's birthdays, summer barbecues, then eventually engagement parties and kids birthdays. Warren's house, a single-story building with a small front lawn, had the charm of an older build that had been well looked after.

As she followed Tina into the entrance hall, Bette scanned her surroundings, trying to absorb every detail. Their four forensic technicians dispersed as planned, heading to explore the bedrooms and bathroom while the detectives focused on the main living areas. A stuffy silence fell upon the house once they had closed the front door, punctuated by the faint buzz of a lawn mower further down the street.

Silent and careful, they began combing through the space, meticulously inspecting every nook and cranny for potential evidence. Every time Bette opened a cupboard or put her hand to the back of a drawer her heart clenched, praying that she wouldn't find anything incriminating. In the rear of the house, the forensic technicians shuffled and murmured as they conducted their search. They had stared back wide eyed and perhaps a little terrified as Bette had firmly instructed them to treat the premises with respect, but not to leave a shadow of doubt either way. She knew her words might have come across as overly forceful, but it had been something of a constructive outlet for the nervous energy that had been rocketing around inside her all morning. The kitchen, though compact, served its purpose well—suited to a few occupants rather than a regular dinner entertaining.

"I can't believe Rita's not on the scene anymore. When did that happen?" Bette thought aloud. She was beginning to think that she didn't know him at all, at least not anything beneath the smarmy sarcastic front that he put on every day. Tina glanced up briefly from her inspection of the kitchen drawers, lifting each unit out of its frame with gloved hands. Meanwhile Bette, a little taller and able to reach the higher cabinets, balanced on her tiptoes to sift through the shelves.

“Do you think he did it?” Bette's voice wavered, unsure whether she wanted Tina's opinion or if she was wrestling with her own doubts.

Tina's eyes remained focused as she scrunched her nose, her freckles momentarily creasing in thought. “I don’t want him to have done it, if that’s what you’re asking. But, on paper, he had motive, means, and opportunity.”

“What motive, though? I just can't see how he could possibly benefit from Taylor’s death,” Bette pressed. Tina's knee popped audibly as she stood up, setting another one of the drawers on the worktop before delving into its contents.

“I don't know, maybe Taylor uncovered Warren's ties to Dominic, realised he was dirty, and threatened to expose him. Given Taylor's involvement with Dominic, he might have come across something incriminating that he could use as leverage,” she suggested as she sifted through Warren's mail.

“You make it sound so simple. Do you think Taylor tried to blackmail him?” Bette asked, watching Tina bite her bottom lip while examining the documents. Tina looked up and brushed a loose strand of blonde hair away from her face.

“The thought must have crossed your mind too. Taylor was apparently having money issues, after all,” she pointed out. She held up a letter from the bank with overdue mortgage payments highlighted in red. “And so is Warren, by the looks of things.”

"Holy shit," Bette muttered, eyeing the stack of red-letter demands for payment. She sidled over to behind Tina, peering over her shoulder at the overdue notices spanning at least six months. "He's in some serious trouble."

"I mean, it's starting to make more sense. No money to pay the blackmail with, backed into a corner. Nothing a quiet bullet to the head can’t fix." Tina said darkly. Bette stiffened, staring at her.

“Shit, Tina. That seems so… extreme. Is that what you really think?”

"What would you do?"

Bette left the question unanswered. Hours passed as they combed through Warren's home, uncovering little besides his financial problems. Carefully, they made sure that everything was returned to its original state before heading outside into the afternoon heat. Tina stretched, her arms reaching behind her head as she arched her back, releasing a long, low groan of relief.

"You doing okay?" Bette asked.

Tina let out a sigh, relaxing against the wall as she crossed her ankles. "Yeah, just not how I pictured this going down. This whole case, I mean. It feels surreal, searching through another detective’s home."

Bette stared out across the quiet street, anxiety setting in as the magnitude of the situation came back into focus. While they had been occupied with the task, she felt as though there was some purpose and direction. But now that they had searched the house and come back with nothing, she felt like they were back at square one.

"I get it. I must have searched through thousands of homes over the years, and they all sort of blend into one memory, you know? But this - I think this one will stick." Bette said.

Tina nodded in agreement. "Yeah. I don't know that there's much more we can do in there. Those techs are very thorough though, I'll give you that. How are you holding up?"

Bette paused, formulating her response. "I'm not sure, to be honest. Part of me didn't want it to be Warren, but another part of me wanted answers, you know?"

Tina offered her a tight smile, and when they heard the forensic techs opening the garage door, they descended the steps. Inside was Warren's pride and joy, an old car that seemed to have been untouched for ages, purely for display. A faint scent of oil met them as they approached the vehicle. The techs combed through the garage, finding little beyond a bicycle, a few suitcases, and some awkwardly stacked storage bins filled with odds and ends.

The two detectives stood side by side, watching the search as the techs went through the car. Bette's attention sharpened as she noticed something unusual.

"Wait, hold it there," she called out to the tech closest to her, who turned to look at her. Snapping on a pair of gloves, she pointed to a spot in the far corner of the trunk. "Do you see that? The lining isn't flush over there."

With her heart pounding, she reached inside and gently lifted the loose lining with her index finger. Beside her, she felt Tina's presence, both of them peering anxiously into the compartment. Sweat formed on Bette's forehead, prickling and stinging at the corners of her eyes. Beneath the lining, she found a small black sports bag. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Bette lifted the bag and cautiously unzipped it, trying to minimise contact. Her heart sank as she revealed its contents.

"Is that a firearm?" one of the forensic techs asked excitedly, ready with an open evidence bag. Bette's mouth felt dry as she gingerly lifted the gun from the bag, pointing the muzzle down and flicking the chamber open to check its contents before dropping it in the evidence bag. With a trembling hand, she reached further into the bag, pulling out a roll of black electrical tape and a thick envelope stuffed with cash.

Tina answered for her. "That's a Colt Sentinel.”

Bette slammed the car door shut, collapsing into her seat. She had just finished her call with Cavanagh, updating him on what they had found. The initial shock had moved aside, giving way to a seething anger. How could he? How dare he? Warren had shattered every oath they made as detectives, tearing apart the fabric of their team. Not only that, he had snuffed out a life, a flawed but still very human life. Gritting her teeth, she aggressively fastened her seatbelt. Tina started the engine, her silence giving them both space to process. As they pulled onto the street, Bette sensed Tina's occasional glances in her direction out of the corner of her eye.

"Well, you'll be happy to know you were right," Bette muttered, her anger and sadness sounding like bitterness.

"None of this makes me happy, Porter." Tina responded quietly.

She slumped in her seat, watching as Tina navigated the route back. Her hazel eyes flickered, her grip on the steering wheel steady but relaxed as she glanced sideways at Bette before refocusing on the road ahead. Bette's stomach rumbled loudly, but the thought of food made her nauseous. Exhaustion was creeping up on her, and she tried to steel herself for the inevitable ordeal ahead of them. She swallowed hard, her throat aching as she tried to keep her emotions in check, and she noticed Tina's brows twitch as she chewed on her bottom lip again.

"You're quiet." Bette observed, the question implied. Tina merely shrugged, flicking the turn signal with her index finger as they stopped at a red light. Bette watched the subtle movement of her lips, sensing something turning over in her mind.

"You're thinking," Bette added.

"I'm always thinking."

Laying against the headrest, Bette turned her toward Tina, her voice soft. "Tell me."

Tina took a deep breath, her golden hair catching the sunlight as she turned the car around the corner. Too tired to fight, Bette didn't push as Tina hesitated, and left her time to choose her words.

"Okay, I know I'm going to sound like I've done a bit of a one-eighty here," Tina began cautiously. "But didn’t you find that all a bit too… easy?"

Bette furrowed her brow. "Easy? What are you talking about?"

"Okay, maybe 'easy' wasn't the best choice of word. How about 'convenient'? Doesn't it strike you as a bit too convenient that everything we needed was neatly left in one place? And not even a good hiding spot, not really. Taylor's scene was wiped. We came away with almost no forensic evidence. Why bother sanitising a crime scene only to leave the most damning evidence in such an obvious place?"

"Tina, I know you're trying to make me feel better, and I appreciate that, I do. But let's face it—the evidence is pretty clear-cut. He was seen at the diner with Taylor on the night of the murder. He has no alibi, and the suspected murder weapon was stashed in his car with a single bullet missing from the chamber. Plus, there's the tape and the cash. His finances are a freaking disaster, which is the number one risk for corruption. I don't see any other way to spin this."

"Yeah, but maybe—"

"Tina, please, stop okay? I can't keep going around in circles with this. One minute you're convinced he is guilty, and now that we have indisputable evidence, you're not so sure? It's giving me fucking whiplash."

Tina huffed, her eyes flitting to the wing mirror as she manoeuvred  the car into the parking spot.

"Fine. For what it's worth, I'm sorry it’s him."

"Yeah. Me too," Bette replied, this time allowing the bitterness out in full.

As they entered the precinct, the atmosphere was palpable, filled with hushed whispers that confirmed Bette's suspicion that the news had begun to spread. She marched into Cavanagh's office without bothering to knock, although Tina had the decency to tap on the door after they had entered. They stood in silence in front of his desk for a moment as he stared back at them. 

"I didn't want to believe it," Bette murmured sadly. She glanced at Cavanagh, his brow creased as he rested his chin on his hand, deflated. Bette wished he were angry instead; his despondency made her uncomfortable. He shook his head, eyes fixed on a distant point, and his hand made a small, dismissive gesture. It was a side of him that Bette had never seen before, and she wasn't sure how to engage. Tina stood by her side, sentinel, the space between them slightly closer than what was considered professional.

"You know, I can't stop thinking about all those cases, all those times we came so close to having one shred of evidence against Dominic, only for it to unravel or become inadmissible. Every time I think I'm starting to digest it, I realise something even worse."

He remained silent and she feared that he might never speak again, that he might never be the same. None of them would be.

"How could I have missed this?" he muttered, his lips barely moving. Bette had no answer, for she was asking the same question of herself. 

"Not the outcome we had hoped for, but regardless, both of you have done commendable work on this. At least now we might have an answer." Cavanagh said quietly. Tina fidgeted beside her, and Bette sensed that she had something to say but was holding back.

"Maybe keep a low profile on this for now, Porter. I can only pull so many strings, and I think I cashed in my big chip with Internal Affairs." Cavanagh said gruffly.

"What do you mean?"

He peered up at them over his thin wire reading glasses. "They weren't happy that you questioned him."

"We didn't question him! No Miranda rights, no recording. I just... asked him. It was a conversation," Bette reasoned, though they all knew it wasn't entirely accurate. He raised his eyebrows at them and leaned back in his chair.

"Well, however true that may be, you're both going to need to take a step back while they conduct their investigation."

Tina's head snapped up in surprise, and Bette felt a surge of anger. Finally a familiar feeling she could grab onto. "Are you f— are you kidding me? I need some closure on this. I can't just sit on it, Cav," she spat.

True to form, he didn't react to her outburst. "Well, you might have to for now. Finish up your reports. And call IAB; they want to speak to you. Both of you. Get your stories straight. And then go home. Get some rest, sort your heads out."

"But—" Bette began to protest, but Cavanagh cut her off.

"That's a direct order, detectives." he said crisply, marking the end of the discussion. Bette weighed her options, considering whether to fight or retreat. Her body tensed, ready for confrontation, but she felt a hand on her lower back, barely perceptible. She decided that retreating was the wiser choice for now.

They sank into their chairs, surrounded by the familiar hum of chatter and ringing phones around them. Bette felt her pulse pounding in her temples, heaving her emotions around with each beat. Exhaustion pulled at her, layering a fog over her thoughts. She stole a glance at Tina, who appeared lost in her own contemplations, her eyes fixed on the screen but seemingly seeing nothing.

"You were quiet in there, too," Bette said. She wasn't sure how Tina would interpret the observation, but she couldn't summon the energy to moderate her tone.

"Did you miss that he saved our asses with Internal Affairs? I'm not about to fight him on anything," Tina hissed, turning to face her. "Not now, anyway. If Cavanagh is anything like I think he is, he'll want answers too. For now, I think we sit tight. Tomorrow is a new day."

For the rest of the afternoon, the two detectives worked in near silence, surrounded by a heavy atmosphere. For Bette, having a task to occupy her mind provided a purposeful distraction, but underneath it all was a profound exhaustion unlike anything she had felt before. She was tired of the constant battles, of chasing bad people doing bad things, tired of being unsure where she stood with Tina—a weariness that seemed to seep into her bones. 

Later, Bette downed the last drops of yet another glass of whiskey as she tried to drown out the events of the day. At least now she had a direction to move towards, some semblance of peace on the horizon. With Internal Affairs set to interrogate Warren, she hoped for the best, but if not, that they would finally uncover something incriminating against Dominic at least. After spending most of the sweltering afternoon soaking in a cool bath, she still couldn't dislodge the restlessness that gnawed at her inside, despite her exhaustion. She felt irritated, first with an ache in her neck, then with the tendrils of brown hair that stuck to her jaw. With the late sun casting golden shadows across the tiles, she swirled the amber liquid in her mouth, its familiar burn offering some pretence of comfort. She kicked at the faucet and trickled more cold water in, challenging herself to see how cold she could take it. As whiskey hit her stomach, she realised that this time, processing her thoughts inwardly was proving to be more difficult than usual.

She grabbed her phone, debating whether to call Olivia, unsure if her friend was even aware of the situation. Bette knew Olivia would be able to relate without a long explanation— after all, they were likely experiencing the same shock and devastation. But then it hit her that Olivia was probably fast asleep, wrestling with the relentless experience that was summer night shifts. She didn’t envy her friend; trying to catch some sleep in this heat? Nightmare.

Eventually she gave up on the bath, not serving her needs as anticipated. She threw on some small running shorts and a black tank, the damp fabric sticking to her skin where she hadn't bothered to dry off properly. Water droplets chilled her neck while her hair remained a messy pile atop her head. She craved the release of a run, where the thump of her feet on the pavement and the rush of her blood might drown out her chaotic thoughts. Running after three whiskeys wasn't exactly advisable, but she reasoned she was at a loose end. If it ended with her heaving a hedge, then so be it—at least she would be purging herself of something. Determined, she made her way to the door, wrestling her foot into a running shoe instead of just bending to untie the laces. Right as she was about to start on the other shoe, a knock on the door startled her. She glanced through the peephole, surprised, and then yanked the door open.

"Had a feeling you might forget to feed yourself tonight."

Bette stared, unable to comprehend at first that Tina was on her doorstep. Dressed casually in a flowing sundress and flip flops, her cheeks were slightly flushed from the warmth outside, a few strands of hair clinging to her forehead. Bette stood immobile with her mouth partly open, not to mention one foot in a shoe and the other in a small ankle sock. Tina held up some boxes in one hand and a carrier bag with a few canned drinks in the other.

"I also realised I have no clue what pizza you like. So, I brought two different ones, just in case." Tina said with a firm smile. After a moment of silence, Bette sprang into action.

"You brought—thank you, but you really didn't have to—come in, I'm sorry. Come in," Bette stammered, holding the door open and ushering her through. Tina stepped inside, flashing a smile as she passed. Bette closed the door and hopped furiously on one foot, trying to kick her singular shoe off without stumbling in Tina's wake.

"You have a habit for tracking down people's addresses, and showing up with food?"

"Not just any food, Porter. Pizza. There's no problem in this world that pizza can't fix. Or however the saying goes."

"I don't think I've heard that one," Bette replied, giving Tina a playful look and tilting her head. Tina scrunched her nose in response, brushing off the comment with a grin. She glanced around the kitchen and living area, taking in the quiet disorder that defined Bette's home: cushions askew on the dark green sofa, an empty mug and whiskey glass on the coffee table, and plants in various stages of life and death dotted around the space. Tina hoisted the bag onto the counter, condensation forming on its surface. Intent on storing the drinks in the fridge, Bette opened the carrier bag then paused as a laugh bubbled out of her unexpectedly, the noise foreign after the day she'd had.

"You brought beers and seltzers?" Bette said, surprised.

Tina gave her a sheepish shrug, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's good to have options! I wasn't sure what you'd prefer, or if you were, you know, watching your calories or something—oh, shut up!" she laughed as Bette snorted back a giggle.

"I'm sorry, I really am. This is really kind of you, thank you. Either works for me, as long as it's cold."

They cracked open their cans, the gentle hiss of carbonation filling the room. Tapping their drinks together, they sipped in comfortable silence as they looked out through the glass doors into the small garden.

"I don't know if I'll ever get used to this heat. It's relentless," Tina eventually offered.

Bette absentmindedly traced the rim of her can. "Yeah, it can seem like that, I know. But when that cool change comes in the evening, it's everything, isn't it?" Her eyes sparkled. "It feels like all the pressure that has built up just melts away, disappears. Like you can breathe again." Feeling a bit self-conscious about her rambling, Bette glanced at Tina, who was looking back at her with a curious expression. "What?"

Tina grinned and shook her head. "You've got a pretty poetic mind under all that fiery bravado, you know. It's refreshing, hearing appreciation for something so simple framed that way."

Bette felt a blush creeping up her cheeks and cleared her throat softly. "Well, some things are just easy to appreciate." Their eyes locked for a moment, Bette's fingers feeling a bit clammy around her drink as she met Tina's smile.

"What kind of things?" Tina asked.

"Beautiful things," Bette responded softly. Her heart drummed loudly in her ears as she held Tina's gaze for a moment, tension palpable, before taking another sip of her drink. Sensing eyes still on her, she wondered how Tina knew this was exactly what she needed. Her afternoon of restless overthinking had instantly felt further away, or perhaps she just had something more appealing to focus on. With her inhibitions lowered, she felt like the walls she put up were coming down carefully, brick by brick.

"So, how are you holding up?" Tina asked cautiously. It wasn't the topic Bette would have chosen, but she tried to ease into it.

"I'm not sure, actually," she admitted, realising the relief in being as honest. "It feels like a bad dream—like I'll wake up tomorrow and none of this will have happened. Everything is going to change now. That's all I can really pinpoint at the moment."

She turned her head back to Tina, who was watching her closely. "What about you? I would have thought you might want to get away from anything to do with work after today, to be alone. Not hang out in my kitchen listening to me go over it all again."

"Do you want to be alone right now?" Tina asked pointedly.

Bette met Tina's gaze, trying to answer the question without overthinking. "No."

"Honestly, I was a little worried about you. This is up there with the worst possible outcomes, and I happen to know a little bit about how that feels." Tina said, shifting closer to Bette. "And I did want to be alone—with you."

A soft sigh of realisation escaped Bette's lips. There was an undeniable boldness to Tina, a confidence in expressing her feelings openly. She never shied away from being honest about her feelings, and it was intriguing. Tina stood bathed in the gentle light, her profile highlighted by the soft play of shadows across her features. Acting purely on instinct Bette reached out, her hand finding Tina's cool fingers grasping the cold drink, and gently drew her closer. Tina looked up at her below thick lashes, each delicate freckle coming into focus as Bette lifted her chin with a single finger. Their lips hovered just millimetres apart, the air between them charged with anticipation, both hesitating towards the inevitable.

Tina seized the moment, leaning in to capture Bette's lips in a delicate kiss while their hands found one another in response. Bette surrendered to the sensation, closing her eyes and allowing herself to be consumed by the softness of Tina's lips against hers. A stir travelled down her spine as she felt Tina's hands land on her hips, her longing for closeness driving her to deepen the kiss. She pressed herself closer, wrapping her arm around Tina's shoulder and tangling her fingers in the strands of hair at the nape of her neck. What began as a tender exchange quickly escalated, spurred on by the encouraging gasp that escaped Bette's lips as Tina's hands travelled, exploring the smooth skin beneath her tank. She tipped her head back as Tina cupped her cheek in one hand and kissed at her neck, the hot traces of her breath combined with roaming hands sending a surge of desire rippling across her chest.

Pulling gently at Tina's hair to tilt her chin back towards her, Bette brought the pink lips back to meet her mouth again, pausing only for Tina to lift her black tank over her head. Cool air met the perspiration on her back, and Tina pulled her in closer, a low moan escaping her lips as she traced her fingers across her chest. Bette's hands grasped at the fabric of the dress, driven by an insatiable urge to explore what was beneath, to make contact with it, to understand how it moved and responded. She lifted the dress over Tina's head in a fluid movement, eyes drawn immediately to the pink flush that coloured Tina's chest. 

She swore at the sight of Tina's body before her, a flash of the supple breasts and hardened nipples before she pulled her in, pressing them against her. Her shoulders prickled with sweat, and she pulled the blonde closer by the hips, the heat from Tina's skin against hers shifting something deep below her waist. Tina's breath hitched as Bette palmed her breasts, feeling the tiny beads of sweat blistering along her chest as Bette explored the soft skin beneath her hands. Reaching up the brunette's back, Tina felt around for a clasp but found nothing. She brought her hand to the front urgently, feeling around desperately and Bette's lips curved into a grin, remembering her long-forgotten plan to go running.

"What is this, a boob prison?" Tina panted into her mouth as her hand searched furiously.

Bette chuckled in response. "Also known as a sports bra."

"Whatever it is, it needs to come off." Tina demanded.

Bette reached up to the side of her sports bra, fingering the clasp that was there and unclipping it with ease.

"Tricky." Tina hummed as she pulled the garment gently over Bette's head. Pressing their bodies together, Tina's hands flew across Bette's breasts, and she felt as if her skin was shivering against her bones. The burning throb between her legs urged her forward, and she wrapped her arms tightly around Tina's body, trying to fill her hands with as much of the woman's skin as possible as they kissed heatedly, the feeling of the lips on hers insatiable. Tina's fingers curved against the nape of Bette's neck and she pulled away slightly, her eyes taking in Bette's body below before lifting to meet her gaze again.

"You are so beautiful, and I don't think you even know," she whispered, her lips paused against Bette's. Feeling her cheeks darkening, Bette pushed her mouth onto Tina's soft skin, their lips finding their own rhythm as their bodies rolled against each other.

"I'm so, so into you," Bette murmured into her mouth as they staggered through the doorway. Tina moaned as she was pushed against the wall, Bette gripping hard at her thigh and lifting it up onto her hip. She put her leg between Tina's, thrusting hard against her as she raked her teeth down Tina's neck, the blonde's moan travelling like an internal lightning bolt from Bette's ear down to her clit. Their tongues searched each other as Bette felt the force of Tina's hip underneath her while she held the back of her leg firmly, both hunting for any kind of pressure against their ache. She felt Tina smirk into her mouth before pushing herself away from the wall, a silent indication that they needed to move this further down the hall. She didn't utter a word. There wasn't anything for them to say.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the sheer bedroom curtains, casting golden shapes upon the walls aligned with the growing shadows. Bette stood at the end of her haphazardly-made bed, calves brushing against the sheets while they held each other in an intense kiss. She gently cupped Tina's cheeks, wanting to savour her taste, to inhale and absorb the pure goodness of her as the world outside her fell away. Feeling a tentative finger dipping into the waistband of her shorts, Bette arched her back at the sensation of Tina's hand so close to where she wanted it. They worked together hastily to get her out of the remaining clothes, and she leaned hard into the blonde, her toned body naked and urging her closer.

Sitting down on the bed as gracefully as she could, her fingertips dug into Tina's hips and pulled her gently on top of her, pale legs either side of her lap. She slid her hands lower down Tina's back, gripping her ass as the blonde panted in her mouth. Tina paused, and then slowed down the pace of their kissing, of everything. Bette shuddered a breath into Tina's mouth as her hips rolled back and forth against her slowly, their skin moving tightly against each other, Bette almost aching at the raw intimacy of it. Their mouths hovered inches apart as she looked up at Tina through hooded lids. She let out a soft moan, brown eyes wide and vulnerable, holding on to Tina as if she were a lifeline in rough waters. The lace of Tina's thong brushed against her, damp and inconvenient. Hooking a finger into the side of the garment, Bette grinned and gave a playful tug at it before pushing her feet hard against the floor and rolling Tina over onto her back in a swift movement, earning a breathy chuckle from Tina before her mouth was covered with Bette's lips.

"As nice as this is…" she started to pull at the lace, and Tina lifted her hips to allow for its removal. Bette flung it off to the side recklessly. She positioned herself between Tina's legs, resting a hand on either knee as her gaze fixed on the sublime sight before her, Tina's naked body glistening in anticipation. A long, low exhale later, Bette settled herself on top of the blonde, resting her elbows either side of her face. She shook her hair from her face, feeling her thick curls coming looser by the second and tickling the sides of her face as she leaned down to kiss Tina quickly, torn between the euphoria of kissing her and wanting to explore the rest of her body with her mouth and hands. She pushed Tina's face gently to the side and kissed hungrily at her neck, the fingers of one hand finding her breasts, savouring the sensation of the hard nipple under her hand before threading it between two fingers with a gentle pressure. She grinned as she took her lips from Tina's neck to her chest, simultaneously feeling and hearing the moan that Tina let out. Her tongue found its way to her own hand, and she flattened it across the side of Tina's breast before taking the soft skin and nipple into her mouth, rolling her tongue around it while hands clawed at her hair desperately. Tina pulled her up to meet her mouth, the skin on their bodies now slick with sweat, and grabbed at her neck as they kissed, panting as she wrapped her legs tightly around Bette's body.

"I want you up here," she said breathlessly, looking into Bette's eyes, craving the brunette's mouth on hers. Tina lifted her body as their lips met, the pair falling onto their sides to face each other as their tongues explored one another's mouths. Bette welcomed her into the crook of her elbow, her arm creating a cocoon for their heads as their hands roamed, rolling their bodies against each other in a growing rhythm. Lowering her hand, she lifted Tina's knee gently before tracing the outside of her lips with her fingers, moaning softly at the wet sensation under her fingertips. Her concentration faltered as she felt Tina's cool fingers exploring her at the same time, tracing her opening and gathering up the slick that awaited her.

Back arching of its own accord, she groaned into Tina's mouth as the fingers delved into her. In turn, she dipped a single fingertip inside Tina, the warmth and wet instantly coating her skin as Tina lifted herself up, signalling for more and Bette all too happy to oblige. Focusing on what she was doing was made almost impossible by the teeth nipping at her ear, and Tina sliding two fingers inside her easily, refusing to wait any longer. She cried out into Tina's hair, finally feeling a step closer to the release from the burning in her lower abdomen. Tina's other hand scratched hard at her back, their lips meeting sporadically and messily now. Lifting her hips to meet each impatient thrust of Bette's fingers, Tina knew the palm of her hand was tantalisingly light against the brunette's clit as she slid in and out of her.

The heat and sound of panting in Bette's ear while she ran her tongue along the blonde's neck, combined with the curve of the fingers inside of her was almost too much to bear. She willed herself to slow down, to let the minutes play out, but the driving of Tina's hips beneath her told her that she was eager to continue, so Bette stopped fighting it, rolling herself hard against Tina's hand. She shifted slightly, pushing her thumb against Tina's clit and moaned as Tina cried out, their slick skin sliding against one another as they writhed on top of the sheets. Bette took in every curve, every angle of Tina rocking beside her as her mouth opened, a moan thickly coating every exhale, feeling the climax already coiling tightly in the pit of her own stomach.

Her hand worked fast inside Tina, the wet skin around her fingers tightening, pulsing as Tina's free hand dug its nails firmly into Bette's smooth shoulder. She was so close, and Tina giving a final strangled cry into her ear as her legs quivered was enough to push her over the edge. Tina's name fell freely and unashamedly from her mouth as the sensation reached its peak, her chest shuddering as she came hard, spilling out onto Tina's hand. Breathing completely out of control, her head dropped onto Tina's neck, mouth open on the skin as she gasped. Tina kept thrusting into her, slow and shallow now, but still enough to prolong the last waves. The ringing in her ears began to fade as their breathing slowly returned to normal, Tina's chest moving in perfect sync with her own. With eyes half closed, she found Tina's mouth and kissed her long, slow, their tongues reconciling the electricity that had just passed between them.

The sun had dipped almost below the horizon now, the shadows long across the carpet, the room around them bathed in the remainder of the afternoon light. They lay face to face, noses touching while their fingers tenderly tickled and traced each other's skin, both affectionate and exploratory. Having the unusual sensation of her mind being full and empty all at once, Bette ran her fingers along Tina's arm and across her shoulders, feeling the gentle bumps of her freckles. Mildly surprised at their abundance, she traced a pattern that she could only feel and not see, noticing the prickle of goosebumps in the wake of her fingers. She shifted at the feeling of Tina's cool hand tracing along her chest before pulling her closer, the warmth of her body welcoming despite the outside heat. Her eyes flickered open to glance at Tina before she leaned in and kissed her softly, grinning into her mouth.

"What?" Tina whispered, twirling a strand of Bette's brunette hair around her finger. The first word now spoken, Bette hesitated, a quiet fear somewhere deep inside at the possible direction of the conversation.

"Nothing," Bette answered with a kiss.

"Tell me what's on your mind," Tina nudged, gently brushing her thumb across Bette's slightly swollen lower lip as she shook her head. 

"Nothing!" Bette insisted, offering a smile as she attempted to kiss Tina again. She pulled away from Bette, pausing to squint at her suspiciously in the low light. With a mischievous grin, Tina launched into action, tickling Bette's stomach. Bette yelped in surprise, the sound quickly melting into laughter as they both dissolved into giggles.

"Tell me, Porter! I can be very persuasive." Tina teased, and with a swift movement, she flipped Bette onto her back, straddling her and pinning her arms above her head with one hand. Bette couldn't contain her laughter as Tina's fingers burrowed across her stomach, and she tried but failed to turn herself away.

"Say mercy, or I'll keep going!" Tina laughed, holding Bette's arms down with surprising strength.

"Fine, mercy. Mercy!" Bette exclaimed between giggles at the sheer silliness of the situation. Tina dropped her head down, kissing her softly on the mouth, biting gently at her lower lip as she pressed the insides of her thighs against Bette's hips. The kiss turned slow and romantic as their bodies moved together while time moved imperceptibly outside of them.

Tina kissed her nose. "Are you going to tell me then?"

"I was just thinking about... You, this. Us," Tina's eyes were soft, fixed on Bette as she searched for the right words. She kissed her nose again, encouraging her to continue. "How it started out, where we are now... This is like the cool change at the end of a hot day." Bette explained, her eyes dropping momentarily. Tina reached out, gently lifting the brunette's chin before pressing a tender kiss to her lips and resting her forehead against Bette's.

As the words lingered, Bette's stomach chose that moment to growl loudly, both women chuckling at the unexpected interruption to the intense moment. As Tina made to move away, Bette tightened her arms around her, reluctant to let go. She snaked her hands along her back, taking in the warmth of Tina's skin beneath her palms, tacky with the remnants of their shared heat. Tina leaned in, pressing feather-light kisses under each of Bette's eyes before swiftly darting to her feet and making a dash out of the room. Propped up on one elbow, Bette watched her naked form disappearing into the dusky light of the hall.

"Where are you going?" Bette called out after her with a grin.

She tuned in to the sound of bare feet padding across the floor of her home, followed by Tina's voice from the kitchen. "To reheat these pizzas. Your stomach is as loud as you are."

Chuckling, Bette slipped into a satin gown and trailed after Tina, met with an exquisite sight—her striking, intuitively intelligent partner with back muscles carved from heaven, standing naked in her kitchen. She grinned at the dimples on Tina's lower back, which only served to accentuate the curvature of her ass. As Tina puzzled over the oven controls, tracing the icons with her fingertips, Bette approached from behind. She wrapped her arm across the blonde's chest, feeling the steady beat of her heart beneath her palm, and rested her chin on Tina's shoulder. With a playful swat, she nudged Tina's hand aside and set the oven dial herself. Turning her head, she whispered into Tina's ear. "Did you really come over just to eat?"

Tina leaned her head back onto Bette's shoulder, exposing the pale skin on her neck for Bette to suck at gently as her hands roamed the toned body from behind, tracing her fingertips along Tina's stomach and up to the supple sides of her breasts. The sweet, faint taste of sweat was light on her tongue as she ran her it up towards Tina's ear, earning a whimper as she felt the body arch under her hands.

"We're planning on eating, aren't we?" Tina whispered. She turned in Bette’s arms, holding the brunette’s face in both hands as she met her lips, a mixture of warm and cool as their tongues met.

"In a manner of speaking, I guess?" Bette answered, and when Tina laughed into their kiss, she felt as if she'd reached the highest peak of bliss. With one hand cradling the back of Tina's head, and the other resting on the small of her back, their bodies pressed together without a molecule of space between them. They kissed softly, bathed in the soft glow of dusk.

“Tina," she said, kissing along her jaw towards her ear.

"Yeah?"

"Stay with me tonight?”

Chapter Text

Bette groaned at the sound of her alarm, guessing she had only managed about an hour of sleep since Tina left just before 6am. She smiled sleepily, remembering the soft kiss left on her forehead before Tina had padded out the door. As she walked to the kitchen, Bette cast her eyes over the traces of their night together - clothes strewn along the hallway, half-eaten pizza on the counter, and the silk gown she had worn for about five minutes before Tina had ripped it off and flung it on the coffee table. She allowed herself a few moments to grin and savour the memory, before the darker thoughts of the day ahead crept in. The full impact of finding the evidence in Warren's car hadn't quite sunk in yet, and she felt a twinge of apprehension about how much it would hurt when it finally did. After a futile attempt at cleaning up, she took a shower and dressed, feeling uncharacteristically rushed as she headed to work. For Bette, "late" meant arriving exactly on time, but she usually preferred to be early enough to scope out the day's events.

A quiet burning of happiness fought for existence inside her, contrasting sharply with the strain of her work, like a tiny star in a vast, dark sky. Everything was going to be different now, but the change felt somewhat less threatening, perhaps because she was so distracted. Her thoughts tumbled loosely through her mind as she walked down the corridor, the air inside the building crisp with the stillness of early morning. Sleeping with Tina had been almost instinctual, the climax of tension that had brewed between them from the moment they met—from initially detesting each other to ending up in bed together. A small voice inside her asked if it had been a mistake, or some kind of attempt to disassociate from the chaos in the rest of her life. But, whenever she followed the brief dips into her true thoughts, she couldn't deny the growing feelings for her partner. Deep down, she knew this would go one of two ways: it would either end badly, or it could be the beginning of something beautiful—if she didn't mess it up. Her faithful locker door gave way with a firm yank. At least some things stayed the same, she mused. Inside, a small brown paper bag with a post-it note stuck crookedly on one side caught her eye. She grinned as she grabbed it, throwing her belongings inside and leaving the metal door clanging behind her as she headed upstairs.

The bullpen was a hazy mix of those at the end of a night shift, and those arriving fresh for the day. Bette couldn't tell if she was imagining it or projecting her own feelings, but the atmosphere felt tight, as if there were something different in the way everyone held their shoulders. Out of habit, she glanced at the sprawling case board on the wall before making her way towards Olivia, who sat hunched over a case file, her movements somehow both frantic and fatigued. Bette perched on the edge of Olivia's desk, their voices low as they discussed the events of the previous day. She quickly filled Olivia in on what had happened, from start to finish. Olivia listened intently, her tired eyes focused on Bette as she absorbed her version of events.

"You know what I keep coming back to? I feel so stupid. I never clicked with him, but that was personal, not professional. I thought he had our backs. I trusted him, we all did. And now? He's just made fools out of all of us." Olivia's voice was coloured with frustration as she shook her head. Bette saw the sharp sting of betrayal mirrored in Olivia's eyes; she could only nod in silence as her friend put into words exactly how she was feeling.

“I know it sucked for you, but at least it was one of us who found it. I don’t know if I would have believed it otherwise. And you literally found the smoking gun with a bullet missing. They might have missed it if you weren’t there.”

“Well I wouldn't say it was a career highlight. The crew was pretty thorough; I think they would have caught it eventually. I just pointed out what I could see.” Bette shrugged, a quirk in her lips. “How did you know it was missing a bullet?”

Olivia yawned, not bothering to cover her mouth. “I checked out your case notes overnight. With our short-staffing situation, I've got to stay on top of everything. Just in case." Her explanation was punctuated by a tired sigh.

Bette shook her head, a fond smile growing as she was reminded of her friend’s diligence. "I don't know how you manage it, Liv. Night shifts turn me into a total zombie. Just staying awake is a struggle, let alone keeping tabs on everything that could go wrong." Despite being a historically terrible sleeper, Bette found night shifts mentally taxing, leaving her even more irritable and impulsive than usual. Her attention shifted to the top of the stairs where Tina had appeared, offering them both a friendly smile and wave. Heat crept up Bette's cheeks as she watched her stride toward the coffee room, while her stomach fluttered nervously. Not known for missing tricks, Olivia's scrutinising eyes bounced between them, her brow raised in suspicion.

"Anything else you want to update me on?" Olivia's grin was growing.

Bette shook her head, acutely aware of her reddening cheeks. "Nothing to report."

"Nothing happened, or nothing you're going to spill? No bedtime story to send me home with?" Olivia teased.

"Nope."

"Fine, but just so you know, your face says otherwise," Olivia chuckled.

Bette assumed a stern expression, leaning in close to whisper. "And you’re delirious. Go home and go to bed."

Olivia snorted, gathering her papers into a folder as Bette rolled her eyes and waved goodbye. 

Bette quietly closed the coffee room door behind her and clocked Tina inside, alone. With her mouth stretched into a yawn, Tina offered a rare crack in her usual composure. Despite the late hours they had kept, she still somehow managed to look well-rested, her cheeks glowing and eyes glistening. Bette leaned against the back of the door and watched Tina for a few moments, her presence unnoticed until she spoke.

“Late night?” 

Tina's head whipped around, a sly grin spreading across her face. "Early morning.”

Bette's heart skipped a beat as she made her way to the kitchenette, trying to keep cool amidst the rush of excitement. She accepted Tina's offer of a drink with a nod. "How do you always manage to look so fresh-faced?" 

Tina chuckled. "Guess I must look more awake than I actually feel. Your face, on the other hand, gives it all away."

“Thanks a lot. Why do people keep saying that to me today?” she replied, earning a laugh from Tina. Bette shifted her weight, holding up the paper bag with the from her locker, the muffin tucked neatly inside. "Didn't pick you for a surprise gift with a sweet note kind of person. Thanks for this."

"A sweet note? It just says 'breakfast' on it," Tina pointed out.

Bette shrugged sheepishly and fingered the corner of the post-it note. "Well, there's an 'x' underneath it. I think that’s sweet."

Tina grinned up at her, stepping in close as she put the cup of coffee in Bette’s hand. "There is a really hopeless romantic hidden inside you, isn't there?" she teased.

Being in such close proximity to her was making Bette’s nerves tingle. When Tina tucked her hair behind her ear, Bette's stomach somersaulted, recalling the fistfuls of that same hair she held in her hands just hours before. She couldn't move her eyes away from Tina's movements, a newfound fascination with the contours of her body beneath the fabric of her shirt, her mind wandering to the unseen parts underneath.

"What's it like out there today? Yesterday the whole atmosphere felt like it was on the brink of a big change, and I'm not even sure where I fit in beforehand." Tina's ability to  seamlessly transition from playful to serious kept Bette on her toes. She took a moment to collect her thoughts before responding.

"To be honest, it's just... quiet. Sombre, I guess, like the shock is still lingering. People haven't started gossiping yet, or maybe they're just holding back on speculating too much," Bette replied.

"Well, it's only a matter of time. I just hope we get the right story uncovered before the rumour mill goes into overdrive," Tina said softly. Bette grimaced, keen to shift the conversation and clear her mind. Sensing her unease, Tina changed tack. "Got another case on your plate yet?"

Bette thought back to the cluttered board on the wall outside and shook her head. "Not yet. But we'll see what the briefing brings. I’m angling for something boring. Maybe a string of burglaries or some court warrants. A little dose of the mundane sounds pretty appealing right about now."

During the morning briefing, Bette stifled a groan as Cavanagh assigned her to complete her annual mandatory training refreshers. She hoped it was just his way of granting her a breather, rather than a subtle attempt to sideline or isolate her from the investigation. Afterwards, Myers approached her, resting a hand briefly on her shoulder as he checked in with her. Bette knew he was genuinely concerned for her, rather than just curious about the case. Her heart sank as she realised she would probably be having similar conversations with her colleagues over the next few days—reassuring them she didn't know much about the situation, and hearing their opinions on whether Warren was guilty or not.

She took a few minutes to go over her report from the day before, making sure it was ready to be sent off to the Internal Affairs Bureau, while trying to stay impartial as she read over her notes. Seeing Taylor's homicide case still marked as 'Open' instead of 'Closed' gave her a strange sense of comfort. As long as there wasn't solid evidence, Warren was still technically innocent. It was a roundabout way for Bette to sidestep dealing with her emotions about the whole situation, but for now, she welcomed the diversion.

Unconsciously, she avoided making eye contact with the other officers as she headed toward the dimly lit training room, a space rarely used due to time and resource constraints. Computers lined the edges of the small space, their screens a lonely black aside from the two that were in use. Desks were shoved together in the centre of the room, forming a makeshift island between the empty chairs. Typically reserved for new cadets, Bette found herself in the room once again, a familiar routine of last-minute annual training, hastily ticking off online boxes to ensure Riverbank's compliance on paper. She struggled to remember the last time she had stepped foot in this room, realising it was likely around this same time last year, for the same reason. Her attention was quickly drawn to a familiar messy blonde bun on the opposite side of the room.

“You too, huh?” Tina turned around at the noise of the door closing.

Bette nodded. "You doing your onboarding modules?" she asked, and Tina grimaced in response. A very young looking officer was seated a couple of seats to Tina's left, and Bette settled herself a few seats down from them both. A brief exchange of glances made her wonder if like her, Tina was questioning their stint in administrative purgatory. The young officer glanced across at her briefly, giving a nod before going back to work. She wore a stern and serious expression, similar to how Bette had carried herself in the early days of her career. 

As she trudged through the tedious online learning modules, her thoughts shifted back to the beginning, to the core group of four: Myers, Warren, Olivia, and herself. They had all started out together, figuring out the dynamics of the team. Olivia, always a little more quiet, had proven to be the most intelligent and conscientious; while Warren's unfounded arrogance had been evident from day one. Bette had been eager and headstrong, learning some tough lessons early on about the importance of seniority and controlling her emotions. Myers had been, and still was, the stabilising force, the glue holding the group together. Riley, slightly more experienced than Bette when they first met, had taken her under his wing without prompting. Although he had been tough on her at first, she knew she was a better police officer because of it.

Aside from a few glances, Bette and Tina didn’t have a chance to talk. Bette tried to see the silver lining, appreciating the rare opportunity to get ahead on her mandatory training and admin tasks. As she mindlessly clicked through the poorly designed modules, her mind kept churning over everything that had happened. She realised Cavanagh might have made a good call—being at work, but away from the stares and whispers was relieving. Down the hall, the bullpen was unusually quiet, with the lights dimming when there wasn't enough movement. After nearly an hour, the young officer began packing up her things, neatly arranging her notepad and carefully pushing in her chair before leaving. 

"It's still not sitting right with me.” Tina's voice eventually cut through the hum of the air conditioner.

Bette glanced over. “What's that?"

Tina nodded at her screen. "Take a look at these notes from this case Warren handled back in February."

“What are you—aren’t you supposed to be doing your onboarding?” Bette asked. 

Tina shrugged innocently. “Come on, like you don’t click through everything and get it over with as fast as possible?” 

She caught Bette's curious and somewhat accusatory look before she gave in and told the truth. “I’ve sort of gone down a rabbit hole with some of his old cases.” 

“Tina! We’ve been explicitly told to take a back seat on this until further notice.” 

“Since when have you become a stickler for the rules? And besides, what am I going to do - sit here and ignore the whole situation, while I take a virtual refresher on how to not shoot myself in the ass?” 

Bette snorted back a laugh despite herself, and leaned back in her seat, causing it to creak noisily. “For someone who's all about playing by the rules, always scribbling down your notes... turns out you're not such a goody-two-shoes after all.” 

Tina narrowed her eyes. “You just made that assumption. Anyway, come here and see what I mean.” 

"I'm not sure about this," Bette muttered, lacking conviction. Deep down, she knew she wanted to join in. But she hesitated, worrying that once she started, she wouldn't be able to stop. And if she couldn't stop, it might lead her down a path she shouldn't go. It was strange; she already felt like she was on thin ice, even though she hadn't technically done anything wrong. Not yet, at least.

Tina gave her a pointed look. “But don’t you want to know? And besides, when have you ever not pushed the envelope. Live a little.” 

Reluctantly, Bette pushed herself out of the chair and walked over to stand behind Tina. It was just a casual glance—what harm could it do? Her heart picked up as she leaned over Tina's shoulder, the familiar warmth and scent of her almost tangible. Tina was magnetic, and Bette struggled to resist the urge to reach out and brush the loose hairs from the nape of her neck. She quickly scanned the notes over Tina's shoulder, agreeing that there was something off about them.

After a moment, Tina tapped her pen against her chin. “You know, I was thinking. What if we cast the net a little wider?”

Bette furrowed her brow. “What do you mean? What net?” She took a step back and crossed her arms.

“There has to be something more to this. Those cases you mentioned yesterday, the ones where you were pipped at the post. Maybe we should start with those.” The gaze that met Bette's was intense and unwavering, her eyes glinting copper in the low fluorescent light.

"We?" Bette responded heatedly. "I don't think we should be doing anything. It's out of our hands now, and the more we mess around with it, the more likely it is we're going to jeopardise what we do know. And besides, what would we do if we found something? Explain that we were just browsing and came across it by accident?"

Tina listened to her objections, growing impatient. "Fine. It was just an idea. Go on then, back to your de-escalating conflict refresher." She rolled her eyes and motioned towards Bette's empty seat across the room, shooting her a challenging look before returning to her screen. Bette felt the familiar frustration bubbling, a reminder that the chemistry between them had the potential to go either way.

Stepping back, she glanced at her lifeless screen, boredom gnawing at her. She was certainly tempted by more information on Warren's case histories. Despite her natural instinct to push against authority and rules, she hesitated. This felt different from her usual minor infractions, like avoiding paperwork or bending rules. She looked out of the window at the deserted corridor, telling herself that she felt torn. 

"Five minutes," she said firmly. "I'll entertain it for five minutes, and that's it. Deal?"

Tina raised an eyebrow without looking up, but she reached out and pulled back the chair beside her, gesturing for Bette to take a seat. 

Three hours in, and they were far beyond their original plan of looking over just a few of Warren’s past cases. Empty coffee cups and a paper plate with a few scattered crumbs lay patiently between them while they worked. Alone, and so far undisturbed in the unused corner of the building, Bette mentally bookmarked this place should she ever need to work somewhere in peace in the future. Tina forged on with a disciplined concentration, pulling up case after case as her pen seemed to move across the notepad of its own accord. Fatigue was creeping in on Bette, her mind a little foggy as she wondered if Tina was struggling with the same distraction that she was - every time Tina shifted, brushed her hair back, or made a sound, Bette found herself transfixed. It took her almost a full minute each time to refocus on what she was doing.

Taking Tina's suggestion, they started looking into peripheral cases connected to Dominic and his operations. They found a few small discrepancies—missing initials here, unaccounted pieces of property there. Nothing that would stand out on its own, but when looked at as a whole, a pattern began to form. They started listing case numbers against it, feeling a mix of confusion and curiosity as they tried to piece things together. Bette’s eyes began to blur from staring at the screen for so long, the letters and numbers merging into an indistinguishable fuzz. Leaning back in her chair, she stretched her arms above her head until her shoulders cracked, then let out a low, weary sigh.

“Stop it,” Tina whispered, not looking away from her screen.

“Stop what?” 

“Doing that. Making those noises. You’re distracting me,”

"I'm not doing anything," Bette replied innocently, her lips curling into a mischievous smile as it dawned on her. "I'm just stretching."

“Exactly. With noises.”

Seeing the faint blush on Tina’s cheeks, Bette figured she might not be as focused as she appeared. She studied Tina for a long moment, noticing the subtle twitch of her lips as she continued to make notes on the pad nearby. Standing abruptly, Tina reached up and retrieved a sheet of poster paper from the shelves above. She put it on the table between them and neatly wrote Dominic's name in the centre, emphasising it with a circle.

"Again with the markers," Bette teased, grinning.

Tina chuckled and shook her head. "Be quiet and read me those reference numbers."

Bette read out a few numbers, and Tina began plotting a map. As Bette reached for a marker to add her own contribution, Tina swatted her hand away.

"Jesus, no. I'm not having your chicken scratch on my nice diagram."

Bette scoffed. "Chicken scratch?"

"I've seen your handwriting. You could have been a doctor."

"Yeah, as if my bedside manner would have made the cut," Bette retorted. 

Tina reached out, her fingertips brushing against the fine curls of hair at the back of Bette's neck. "I happen to think your bedside manner was more than adequate last night," she said, her grin mischievous. "And this morning."

It was Bette’s turn to redden, her skin electric where Tina had touched her. Unable to look away, a flirty smile tugged at her lips, mirrored in Tina's expression. In that moment, Bette was certain they were both thinking about the same thing. Staring at Tina's lips, Bette's mind flashed back to the early hours of that morning, to the mouth buried between her legs while darkened eyes watched her from below. 

"So!" Tina's pen tapped against the paper loudly, again shifting from playful flirting to the task at hand. Bette watched her, fascinated. This woman is going to be my undoing, she thought.

"Some missing drugs, jewellery, and all together a significant amount of cash... Individually, these wouldn’t raise eyebrows, but collectively... it paints a bit of a picture,"

Bette nodded in agreement, catching up. "Yeah, like this case here, where the victim reported six hundred bucks missing from a shoebox in his wardrobe. Looking at that situation, I would usually question whether the cash existed in the first place. Call me a cynic, but I would probably have done the same thing—a cursory inquiry, but no more.”

Tina gestured to the paper again. "I mean, it's been reported a few times, see, here and here... But realistically, most of these people have some kind of a record, or are from a shady background. Who's going to come forward about missing drugs, or cash that they probably got illegally in the first place?"

Bette gave a dry chuckle. "Exactly: 'Hey officer, did you find the brick of coke my brother had on him when he got arrested?'"

Tina hummed in agreement, and they fell back into reviewing the cases, slowly adding to the diagram. Some of Dominic's known associates that were listed deep in the case notes had been arrested and charged, and were serving time now. But not one had ever spoken out against him, and Bette suspected they had either been coerced or silenced. A nagging feeling about Hamilton and the pawn shop itched at Bette's mind. She spent nearly an hour scanning over the records confiscated during Hamilton's arrest. The pawn shop's financial accounts were a web of confusion: incoming funds didn't match up with the listed sales, along with them barely breaking even each month.

“Look here, see this Rolex?” Bette pointed at the page before her. “That model would retail for what, about $14k? Easily. But its listed sale price is only $8k.” She ran her hand through her hair as Tina looked over her shoulder. “Do you know much about financial forensics?”

Tina shook her head. "Not much beyond what I learned seminar-style. But that sounds like Money Laundering for Dummies."

“I don't think we need to be experts to know that something isn't adding up here."

Bette pushed her chair back and rose to her feet, surveying their now bustling diagram from a higher angle. Although she didn’t want to admit it, she couldn’t deny seeing Tina’s sharp lines and clear writing put things into clearer perspective. She rubbed her face, tired, and glanced up to see Tina watching her with a small smile, her mind moving beneath the surface.

"You know, Warren’s financial situation doesn't quite add up to someone who's taking payoffs. Wouldn’t you expect him to be financially stable, or even in surplus? He should be doing better than he is. And I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to draw a line between him and that pawn shop, which could be just the tip of the iceberg."

"Maybe he's stashing the cash somewhere, avoiding leaving a digital trail," Bette mused.

Tina wrinkled her nose. "All that effort to hide cash, but he just leaves the murder weapon in the trunk of his car?"

"We haven't even confirmed if that is the murder weapon." Bette felt confused, misplacing her angle on whether she was trying to prove his guilt or his innocence. She sighed, feeling exhausted and tangled in her own thoughts as she kicked back in her seat. "Any word from the original supplier of the Colt Sentinel? About when they were in circulation?"

"Still waiting on it. Not sure if we'll get anything useful, or if Internal Affairs will swipe the report away as soon as it arrives," Tina replied. They lapsed into silence, each woman lost in her own thoughts.

"I keep thinking about it, and I'm just not convinced it's someone else. Not because I don’t want it to be," Bette clarified quickly, catching Tina's glance. "It just doesn't add up, you know? Whereas everything in Warren's situation fits."

Tina paused as if weighing her words while she folded her arms. 

"You know, I had a case once where a nurse was stealing opiates from the hospital. Nobody suspected her because she was a model employee—always punctual, never missed a shift, super eager to pick up extra days. What the hospital execs didn't realise at first was that she was so dedicated to being there, because that's where the drugs were." Tina shifted back, perching on the desk with her thigh brushing warm against Bette's elbow. "If it's someone else here, they'd have to be clever. Someone involved or across a lot of cases, someone who maybe seems busier than everyone else. I'm not saying it's definitely someone else, but we can't rule out the possibility. I don't know a lot of people well; I'm still the newbie. I'm just asking if, given your knowledge of the people who work here, there is anyone who fits that description."

"I can't really picture anyone else besides him doing something like this, honestly." Bette said almost automatically, although she appreciated Tina's tact. "Maybe it's because he's been accused, or maybe I've just always had a feeling he was hiding something. But he was always so quick to claim credit for other people’s work, but I guess we all assumed that's why he stuck his nose in other people's cases."

Bette absently played with the hem of her shirt, giving the suggestion a bit more thought. It was unsettling to think of anyone on their team being involved in something like this. While there were a lot of other detectives on the periphery, she always considered the core group to be herself, Myers, Olivia, and Warren—the lifers. Sure, there were other detectives who didn't handle many homicide cases, not to mention countless others in the department who weren't detectives at all. But if someone else was involved, they'd need access, reasons to be in the evidence room, at crime scenes, and to have the right information. She reasoned they would have to be part of the inner circle, someone as senior as herself.

Once again she wished she could hash things out with Olivia, who knew everyone just as well but admittedly with a less judgmental eye. She imagined bouncing theories with her, but she knew her friend would immediately launch into a lecture on why they shouldn't go down that road. As the day stretched on, they continued to pick apart details, trying to sort out what mattered from what didn’t. Before they knew it, the hour was late, having lost track of time without natural light to guide them. Ignoring their now-grumbling stomachs, neither wanted to admit they were tired first, their competitive streaks still intact despite their affection for each other. Bette didn't envy those in Internal Affairs. It was a job she could never see herself doing.

“Sometimes I think about getting out of this. Starting fresh.” Bette yawned, popping her knuckles one by one.

“Like what - doing something completely different?" Tina prodded.

"Not entirely. Law enforcement is all I know. But I don't know, I feel like I need a clean slate. Maybe I am too wrapped up in this insular community. Sometimes I feel like I can't grow here, you know?”

“You can’t get much more senior unless you want to change streams. Or put in for a transfer. You could always look to head up a precinct somewhere else.” Tina suggested, but Bette shook her head dismissively.

“I don’t think senior management is for me. Too many egotistical men,” she said, dropping a marker back in the container. “Anyway, this is boring for you.”

“Nothing you say is boring for me.” Tina smiled kindly.

Bette grinned back. "You ever think about doing something else?"

Tina gave the question some thought. "I think I'm hardwired for this kind of work. Although I always liked the idea of forensic psychology. Maybe somewhere down the line, I'd like to do that kind of work. More on a consultation basis - no more shift work, no nights."

"The dream." Bette said quietly, and Tina chuckled before looking down at the table again.  

"Dominic is all over this," Tina said quietly, her gaze fixed on the ink drying on the poster paper.

Bette nodded slowly in agreement. "What if we just… had a look to see what he was up to?"

"You mean follow him? We would never get that approved." Tina pointed out.

"Not follow him. Not officially, anyway. But if we happened to drive past or get close to where he might be, and happened to see him…" Bette trailed off, glancing up at Tina cautiously. 

"Then what? Stop him and ask? 'Excuse me, could you enlighten me about any cops you know getting paid under the table?'" Tina’s eyes sparkled back in amusement.

"Never mind, it's a stupid idea. God, I'm so tired. Just forget I said anything." Bette sighed, stretching once more.

Tina’s expression remained unchanged as she spoke."If we did decide to do that, and I'm not saying we should, but hypothetically - you thinking pawn shop?"

Bette was already up and packing up her belongings, and Tina grinned, sweeping her blonde hair from her face as she rolled up her paper, both women suddenly feeling more energetic. 

"My gut is telling me that whatever is going on at that pawn shop will be off the table for now, especially after we brought in Hamilton." Bette reasoned quickly. 

Tina gave the room a quick once-over, trying to leave it as they found it. "Somewhere else you’ve got in mind? I don't know the city all that well yet," 

"Well this is not a bad opportunity. To show you around, I mean. You probably don't know all the fantastic sights of Riverbank, or the best spots to up your arrest quota."

They made their way towards the stairs, Bette a few steps behind Tina. Her stomach clenched as she saw Olivia approaching, dragging her feet up the stairs for her night shift. Bette swore internally as Olivia, puffy-eyed from sleep, greeted her with a weary smile. Bette attempted to appear her usual self in response, suppressing any signs of guilt.

"What are you still doing here?" Olivia asked, eyeing Bette's hands suspiciously. Bette instinctively tightened her grip on her keys.

"Did you sleep okay?" Bette deflected. "Yeah, just got caught up with a few things, lost track of time, I guess."

Olivia continued to regard her curiously. "Heading home now?"

"Yeah, going to try and get some rest." Bette moved to step past her on the stairs. 

"Together?" Olivia arched a dark eyebrow as her eyes darted to Tina on the landing below them. 

"It's not like that, Liv. We're just going to see… I'm just showing her around the district, she's not from around here, so I thought we would go for a drive downtown-"

But Bette's explanation only seemed to dig her deeper. Olivia's scepticism grew with each passing second, and Bette cursed herself for misunderstanding. She wished she had just said they were leaving together innocently, instead of inadvertently hinting that they were up to something  - which, to be fair, they were.

"Downtown? You’re not going where I think you’re going, are you?"

Bette tried to keep her tone steady. "I don’t know what you mean."

"Are you going after Dominic again? Didn't Cavanagh just ream you yesterday, order you to let it go? Look, I get that a lot has happened, but at some point you have to accept that maybe we won't get him on this one." Olivia's heated protests were low in the quiet stairwell, but her meaning was loud and clear. Bette looked at her wordlessly.

"Where are you going, Porter?" Olivia asked wearily. "And don't lie to me."

"Liv, please don’t make me answer that question. Just trust me when I say it's better that you don't know."

"Cav is not going to save your ass on this one if you get busted."

"I won't get busted because I'm not doing anything."

Olivia looked at her, disbelieving and hurt. "You used to tell me everything, you know."

Bette rested a hand on Olivia's arm. "Please, can we not do this right now? I need to go. I'm hungry and I'm tired. Please, just… have a good shift. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

With a final exasperated grimace, Olivia turned and stormed up the stairs without saying goodbye.

*

"Why have we stopped here?" Tina asked, turning her head to look out of the passenger window. Bette unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door. 

"Shh. I'll be back in a second. Just wait right here."

“Wait? Here in your car with all of your… accessories?” Tina gestured at the clutter around her as Bette walked away without answering. Amongst the mess of empty coffee cups, crumpled food bags, and papers peeking out from under the seat, a few sweatshirts and water bottles added to the disorder. After a few moments, Bette returned with her hands full, and Tina leaned over to open the driver's door from inside. She watched as Bette slid into her seat a little clumsily, and extended one hand towards her. 

"We stopped for ice cream?" Her eyes widened as she took the cone from Bette’s hand. 

"Not just any ice cream - this is Messina. I’ve been coming here since I was a kid." Bette replied with a smug grin, pointing behind her towards the quaint shopfront, its colourful sign glowing against the dark sky. 

Tina narrowed her eyes as she tasted the dessert. "And you got me pistachio."

"You said it was your favourite." Bette reminded her with a shrug. Tina's cheeks flushed slightly, flattered by the gesture underneath the moving shadows of the street outside the car. "And I bet you got - yep, chocolate."

“Triple chocolate, actually,” Bette said, holding up the cone as evidence. 

“Of course, the obvious choice.” Tina teased. They both savoured the creamy sweetness for a moment before Tina spoke again. "We stopped on our way to a stakeout for ice cream?"

Bette chuckled, licking a stray drip of ice cream from her finger. "This isn't a stakeout, remember? We're on unofficial business right now."

Tina nodded, playing along with their cover story. "Right. Just two detectives, sitting in a car downtown, eating ice cream. Nothing suspicious going on here."

Bette shrugged as she went in for more. "They were fresh out of the traditional police donuts. That’s a ridiculous stereotype anyway. I don’t even like donuts. Oh my god, this is pure joy though, taste it—here,"

She offered her cone to Tina, who intertwined her fingers with Bette's to steady it while she tasted the dark chocolate ice cream. Bette watched her closely, quietly thrilled by the sight as she monitored her reaction.  Tina scrunched her nose up, and Bette gasped theatrically.

“I’m kidding! You always take things so seriously. It’s actually pretty good,” Tina chuckled.

“Good?” Bette echoed, sitting up slightly while pretending to be offended.

Tina laughed again, the melody filling the car. “It’s nice. And this is pretty nice too, if you’re willing to open your mind a little,” Tina added as she held hers out. 

Bette took a cautious taste and made a slight face. “Well, as long as you like it, that’s what counts.”

Tina turned to her, tilting her head. “Are you trying to charm me into coming home with you?”

“Tina, how could you think that? Who knows how long we'll be out here, we need sustenance." Bette said in mock seriousness, a grin betraying her tone. She glanced over at Tina, who was clearly unconvinced by her act, before adding quietly, "Is it working?”

Tina raised her eyebrows, licking the drips from the side of the cone. “It might be.”

Bette grinned and put the car into gear. She drove further into depths of the city, managing her ice cream with one hand while the other moved the wheel. She knew this place like the back of her hand, able to drive through downtown in her sleep. The city was a hive of activity, with all manner of people bustling from place to place. She expertly weaved through the teeth of the nighttime traffic, eventually meeting the outer edge of downtown. Here, the atmosphere was somewhat displaced—there were more shadows, fewer upscale restaurants, and a few more sketchy-looking bars and buildings.

Tina looked around as Bette pulled the handbrake. "Why here?"

"Just a hunch. See that bar over there? Dominic is a partner in it," Bette explained, pointing across the road. The building looked old and a little run-down, but a decent crowd was milling around under the flickering neon lights.

"Of course, The Lygon Bar."

"Good memory. His logistics company HQ is about half a mile that way," Bette said, gesturing with her thumb behind her.

Tina lifted her chin. "Is he laundering money in that bar too?"

"Probably, but it’s so far clean as a whistle. Maybe it just hasn’t had a close enough look. Or maybe someone has been turning a blind eye."

They eventually slid down in their seats, trying to get comfortable. They might not see Dominic at all—they might have had it wrong, and he wouldn’t even show. And even if he did, there was no guarantee they would see anything noteworthy. As they watched people come and go from a distance, Bette thought about how she didn’t mind spending the evening here. It wasn’t exactly the best idea of a first date, or even a second one if she counted the reheated pizzas they had eventually eaten at around midnight. But this suited them—it was true to who they were. As much as Bette liked grand gestures and fancy dinners, sharing a stakeout like this wasn’t something she could do with just anyone. It made her time with Tina feel special, like she could truly be herself.

What seemed exciting on television was, in reality, the endless grind of a stakeout. The big screens didn’t show the endless hours cramped in a car, backs aching, legs restless, or the trying to find a place to pee in unfamiliar or sketchy places. They didn’t show the air growing stale inside the car, or the way conversations could run dry after eight hours in close settings. But after two hours, none of that had happened to them. Tina was sharp and funny, her thoughts flowing in a way that kept Bette alert. She found herself completely absorbed by Tina's words, the cadence of her speech becoming more familiar and intriguing by the minute. They laughed a lot, swapping tales of arrests gone right and wrong, and other war stories from their time on the job. There was still no sign of Dominic or his thugs, and Bette was almost ready to call it a night. They hadn't gathered any useful intel, but she wouldn’t have spent her evening any other way. When Tina declared she was going out to find a bathroom, Bette was left alone with her thoughts, feeling unexpectedly content.

She stared straight ahead at the door of the bar, half-heartedly scanning the people coming in and out. Suddenly, a loud rap on her window made her nearly jump out of her skin. Bette sensed his presence before she recognised his face. Instantly, her senses were on high alert, pulse throbbing in her fingertips, heart pounding in her throat. She kept her game face on, neutral and impassive, refusing to be intimidated by the man in a three-piece suit with his overpowering cologne. Carefully, she wound down the window a fraction, making sure Jude Dominic couldn’t touch her or shove anything through the gap as she eyed him cautiously, trying to see if he was armed.

“I'd say you've exceeded the time limit for this parking bay, wouldn’t you? Kindly move along and stop watching my premises.” His voice was smooth and sickly, like syrup, his words coated with menace.

Bette turned her head slightly to meet his gaze. “I can assure you those limits don't apply to me, Mr. Dominic. Why would you think the police would be interested in watching you? Sounds like you’ve got a guilty conscience to me.”

“Only in your fantasies, Detective.” He rested his hand on the roof of the car, glancing down the street before returning his attention to Bette. "Can I say something off the record?”

“Nothing is off the record, asshole,” Bette shot back, her voice braver than she felt.

“Ooh, tut tut, language.” He leaned in closer to the window. "Well, I'll let you in on an obvious secret. You’re wasting your time. You’ve got your man for the Taylor murder.”

Bette kept her words steady as alarm bells rang in her mind, questioning how Dominic knew about the case. “Taking a special interest in the developments, are you?”

"What can I say? Word reaches my ears. Sounds like your colleague paid the price for carelessness, and he's lucky it wasn’t his life."

Her bravado slipping, Bette cocked her head curiously. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" She tried to discreetly look past Dominic and check if he was alone.

"It means you’ve got your answers. You’d be well-advised to step back and stick with the official outcome of the investigation. And I'll know if you don’t. I've got friends in a lot of places, you see."

"Are you threatening me?" Bette's eyes darted to the rear-view mirror, searching for any sign of Tina returning, hoping she wasn't in any danger. Dominic followed her gaze, peering past the back of her car down the street. Her breaths came in heavy and irregular, and she struggled to control the rise and fall of her chest in Dominic's presence.

He turned back to her, his expression smug. "It's not a threat. It's good advice, and I suggest you take it. So unless you want a formal report to your superiors about your extracurricular ‘activities’, this had better be the last time I see you unofficially. Now move your fucking car, please."

The easy option was to say nothing and comply. Mentally, Bette tossed a coin and decided to be difficult.
“Well, I would advise you to step away from this vehicle, Dominic. As you so accurately observed, I’m not on duty. But I am an armed civilian with the right to defend my person and property.”

In her mind, Bette toyed with the idea of flinging open her door and aiming a hard blow at his legs, fantasising about fracturing his knees. Dominic leaned in closer, the scent of his cologne and breath mingling as it passed through the gap in the window.

"I won't tell you again, Detective," he said in a low, controlled hiss. "I could lift a finger and find out where you and your little blonde friend live, work, and play within minutes. I could find out what you had for breakfast, which side of the bed she sleeps on, and a whole host of information that might serve to make you vulnerable. Drop it." With that, he abruptly stepped back.

Bette flinched at his forceful slap against the car roof as he stalked away. A wave of dread washed over her as her heart thudded, and she struggled to steady her breathing. Sweat blistered on her forehead, cold and clammy, and she wiped at it with trembling hands. More than anything, she was frustrated that she felt threatened by him. The sound of Tina returning to the car made Bette jump in her seat, her nerves frayed. As she opened the door, Tina’s expression shifted to one of concern as she took in Bette's visibly shaken state. With a questioning look, Tina waited for Bette to explain what had transpired. Bette hesitated, her mind racing with the memory of the masked threat Dominic had made against them both. Fear probed at her insides, but she chose to keep silent about that part of the conversation as she filled Tina in.

"What the hell!? Why didn't you call me?" Tina's voice cracked with concern, her eyes alarmed.

"It happened so fast. It was over in less than a minute," Bette explained.

"Do you think we should go out there and-"

"No!" Bette interrupted sharply, her hands slamming against the steering wheel. “He’s nothing but a rich, entitled brat who thinks he owns this city and can intimidate anyone he wants. This is the first time he's made any kind of allusion to anything, and I refuse to give him the satisfaction of arresting him for it.”

Tina held her eyes, the thread of a challenge passing between them before her expression softened. "Are you okay to drive?"

It was a considerate question, one that Bette appreciated, though she knew she was far from okay. Tina reached out and squeezed Bette's shoulder and they sat in silence for a moment, the tension slowly dissipating as Bette regained her composure.

"I'm fine, really," Bette said, although her body was still trembling from the adrenaline rush. She hated that their evening had been marked by Dominic's presence, but at least they had gained something more valuable than just seeing him go in or out of a building. Gradually, Bette's racing heart began to steady as they sat together in the car.

After a few minutes, Tina extended her arms, arching her back and twisting slightly from side to side. "It’s getting late anyway. We got something, one way or another. Probably time to be heading home."

Bette started the engine. “Lead the way,”

Tina turned and smirked. “You don’t know how to get to your own place from here?”
“Oh, to my place is it? Very presumptuous of you.”

“Says Miss I remembered your favourite ice cream?” Tina continued over Bette’s small scoff. “I mean you’re welcome to come to my apartment but fair warning - I haven’t even got a sofa yet.”

Bette rolled her eyes playfully, her expression soft as she turned onto the entrance to the ring road. Through the darkened streets, the car turned corners as if it knew its own way home. Tina reached and turned on the radio, and Bette surprisingly didn't protest at someone else touching the controls. Instead, she sunk into the low sounds of music alongside Tina quietly humming the tune. Stealing another glance in the rearview mirror, Bette felt paranoid about the persistent loitering of the black SUV behind her, causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand up. Unbeknownst to Tina, she took the long route home. She didn't mention it, unwilling to give Dominic's warning any more weight. Finally, she watched the SUV turn off into a side street. She gave a relieved exhale as she turned into her drive a few moments later, gently ushering Tina across the threshold. 

* 

“What’s on your mind?” Tina asked, the soft glow of the salt lamp casting a gentle light over the room. They lay sprawled across Bette's bed, the sheets crumpled beneath them. Bette stretched out on her stomach, head resting on her forearm while Tina lazily stroked her back. Glancing over, Bette tried to take her naked body in all at once, Tina laid on her side like a goddess with her golden hair hanging loosely around her face. 

A million thoughts drifted through her mind, but when Bette spoke, she surprised herself with what came out. “You really haven’t got a sofa?”

Tina's eyes narrowed in amusement. “That’s your takeaway from tonight?”

Bette grinned, realising her thoughts had spilled out freely. “Among other things. But that's what came out when you asked.”

Tina sighed. “No, I haven't got a sofa yet. When have I had time? I've got a mattress on the floor and a few other bare essentials, but I guess I've been putting off fully settling in, even though it's been over a month. I’m sure a therapist would have something to say about that,”

They both sat with the statement, Tina continuing to stroke up and down Bette's spine. Closing her eyes, Bette felt herself sink further into the bed, her skin tingling in the wake of Tina's touch.

“I can take you. If you want," Bette offered, trying to sound casual. "Maybe Saturday if you’re not busy.” She kept her eyes closed, hearing Tina's smile as she felt the pause in Tina's fingers on her back.

“Are you asking me out on a date… to the furniture store?”

Bette gave a playful shrug, encouraging Tina to continue tickling her back. Her voice muffled slightly against her arm. “Are you free on Saturday or not? I happen to be very good at choosing furniture. And maybe afterwards you’ll let me take you to dinner. Or for a drink, or whatever. We can do anything you want. If you want,” 

Tina dipped her head, pressing her lips against Bette's arm before moving closer. Their skin brushed together, and Tina placed another tender kiss on Bette's shoulder before whispering in her ear.

“I would love to go on a date with you to choose a sofa.” 

Bette raised her head from her arm, pushing aside a few unruly curls that had fallen across her face. Meeting Tina's lips, they shared a lingering kiss.

"Well, that settles it," Bette murmured against Tina's lips, who responded with a nod. Rolling over, Bette wrapped her arms around Tina, pulling her on top of her closely.

"You sure you can't stay tonight?"

"It’s not that I don’t want to," Tina whispered, her breath warm against Bette’s lips. "But I should really head home. We both know neither of us will get any actual rest if I stay here again tonight."

Bette nodded as Tina rose from the bed, gathering her scattered clothes from the floor. Wrapping herself in the sheets, Bette walked her to the door, where they shared a final, soft kiss while waiting for the cab. As Tina climbed into the car, Bette waved goodbye from the doorway, watching carefully as the vehicle pulled away. With a quiet sigh, she locked the door behind her and collapsed back into bed, equal parts sated and sleepy.

Chapter Text

The usual desk Olivia occupied was empty, with the tired office chair pushed a few feet back from the desk. Any hopes Bette had harboured of clearing the air with Olivia had sailed, reasoning that she must have been called out in a hurry. Bette's fingers moved rapidly across the dusty keyboard, each keystroke feeling offensively loud in her corner of the barren bullpen. It was early, and Bette had been at her desk for almost an hour charging through the endless messages in her inbox. Over the years, her ethic had diminished from ‘answer every email right away’ to 'if it's important, they will call'. Having slept solidly for the first time in weeks, Bette felt energised and surprisingly conscientious with respect to the more tedious of tasks. Whether it was because she felt guilty about their unsanctioned stakeout the night before, or because she suddenly had the time, she couldn't be sure.

A distant murmur of voices and footsteps rising from the stairwell signalled the beginning of the day-shifters rolling in and the end of Bette's solitude. Taking a break from reporting, she leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling while willing her mind to shift into third gear. Dominic's menacing presence from the previous night had been boxed tightly away in the corner of her thoughts, slowly festering while waiting to be unwrapped. In truth, he had left her with more questions than answers. How had he known about the progress of the case, and Warren's detainment? Was he just well-connected, or had he been informed directly? Bette wasn't yet completely convinced of an alternative mole on the inside, but Dominic had to be getting his information somehow. The thought of another betrayal hung thick and heavy in her gut, shifting uncomfortably as she considered the possibility. It didn't feel good. An undercurrent of suspicion was beginning to bleed into her interactions with people she had trusted for years. She had tiptoed around the few conversations she had had that morning, giving nothing away while observing everyone with a freshly tainted lens. The irony that Tina was now the only person she felt she could trust was not lost on her, considering their turbulent beginning. The chatter of her phone vibrating against the wooden desk startled her into sitting upright. Tina's name was flashing on the screen, as if she had been summoned purely by Bette's thoughts.

"This is a pleasant surprise," Bette smiled into the receiver.

Tina's voice came in loud but distant from inside her car. "It might not be. You got a minute to run a plate through LPR me?"

"Sure, what's up?"

"I think I might be being followed."

Bette's grin faded as quickly as it had appeared. "Shit, okay. Just one second."

The mouse clattered noisily as she woke her screen from its slumber with force. Beginning its painfully slow launch, the Licence Plate Recognition progress bar's dribbling progress bar did nothing to appease Bette's pulse, which had picked up to what was surely twice the usual rate. While she listened to the white noise of the inside of Tina's car, Bette chewed at her lip, suddenly feeling altogether regretful and guilty that she hadn't passed on the details of Dominic's thinly veiled threats. A judgement that Bette had made in her adrenaline-fueled state had come calling for an answer in the cold light of the next day. With sudden undeniable clarity, she realised that Tina would have taken the news far better last night than she would twelve hours after the fact. The LPR system finally blinked, signalling its willingness to help.

"Okay, go with the plate. How long have they been following you for?" Bette asked, focused.

If Tina was anxious, her voice didn't show it; steady and clear as she read the car's plate out. "I thought I was just being paranoid. I noticed it as I was pulling out on Chapel Street, so that would make it for about 20 minutes now? I don’t know, I’ve just got a weird feeling about it. I looped around the block before I called you and they’re still there. Hanging back about two to three cars from mine."

"Describe it to me." Bette demanded as she watched the LPR database flicker from bright to grey as it performed her search request. "Don't leave anything out."

"A black Ford SUV, I can’t tell what the model is from here. The tint is dark, but I make two white males inside, 30-40 years of age. One driving, the other one passenger princess."

Bette faltered. “You’re making a joke at a time like this?”

“We don’t know what sort of time it is yet, so yeah. No point panicking until we know we need to, Porter. You should try it out some time.” 

"I'll keep that in mind. Okay, here, it's listed as belonging to a Bryce Springsteen, at Stamford Avenue." Bette read out in bewilderment, the details of the owner sounding more like a question than a statement.

"Well that sounds legitimate, doesn't it?" Tina's light sarcasm was punctuated by the sound of her indicator flickering.

"Very." Bette's hands were trembling slightly, her thoughts threatening to scatter like startled birds. "Are they still following you?"

"Two cars behind."

Trying to keep her nerves in check, Bette stood and began to pace behind her chair, holding the phone to her ear. The waiting was excruciating. She pulled at her collar while mentally running through the possible options; the time it would take her to get to her car and drive to where Tina was and - and then what? Follow the car that was following her? Call for backup? Her mind moved thickly while trying to calculate how far away Tina was if she had passed Chapel Street around twenty minutes ago. The only response her consciousness would provide was an echo of Dominic's words the night before: I could find out what you had for breakfast, which side of the bed she sleeps on.

The steady voice in her ear brought her back into the present.

"Okay, I've just turned into our street. Let's see if they drive themselves into the precinct and save us a job."

Bette covered the distance to the west side of the office in a few quick paces, threading between the empty desks to the wide windows that overlooked the service vehicle entrance. Tina's car approached from the end of the street, both hands steady on the wheel. A blue sedan paused briefly behind before continuing straight after Tina turned into the garage. Pressing her forehead against the cool glass, Bette peered down intensely, refusing to blink for fear of missing anything.

"I see it," she said, and repeated the plate number aloud as the black SUV came into view.

"That's them. They're not following me in, but they’ve slowed right down." No sooner had Tina spoken, the black vehicle revved the engine loudly, before speeding down the street at speed, the wheels screeching angrily against the road. Bette exhaled shakily.

Tina seemed unfazed. "Bold move to do that right in front of the city's biggest police station. Jackass,"

By now, Bette was convinced they were sent to deliver a message, and her racing heart told her it had been received loud and clear. She ended the call and skittered down the stairs to meet Tina in the garage. Much to Bette's annoyance Tina didn't look shaken at all, raising a hand casually as she walked towards Bette.

"I'm fine - I’m fine," Tina assured her with a smile. “I’m sorry. I think I just woke up feeling a bit paranoid,”

Realising she still had a hand on her heaving chest, Bette dropped it to her side. The urge to gather Tina into her arms was overwhelming, and only the presence of another officer walking towards the entry door stopped her. Now would be the perfect opportunity to tell Tina about the threat. She took a deep breath, summoning a little courage.

"Tina, I -" she started, but quickly lost her nerve. "I - I don't think you should take your car home tonight." 

The lies told for love were always the lightest shade of white.

"Now you're being paranoid." Tina replied as they made their way inside. "Nothing happened."

"And while I am grateful for that, I just think it would be safer. I can drive you home." 

Tina raised her eyebrows and opened her mouth, but Bette interrupted her. "I'm being serious, Tina. Or if not me, have someone else escort you. Make sure you're inside safely, once you get home."

"Porter, I can't let anyone see inside my apartment, what will they think of me?" Tina gave a sly grin, and Bette found it hard not to return it. She looked around at the empty corridor and grabbed Tina's arm pleadingly.

"I'm asking you, Tina. Please,"

"If it makes you feel better, then okay. You can take me home." She turned her wrist, catching Bette's hand in hers and squeezed it affectionately. She glanced up at Bette with a lopsided smile, and Bette eyed the signature dimple in her chin making its first appearance for the day. Letting out a relieved sigh, she returned the pressure onto the fingers intertwined with hers. Footsteps sounded on the stairs above them, and they quickly dropped their hands and took a step apart.

Back at her desk, Bette's heart rate was gradually returning to its normal rhythm. She steepled her fingers underneath her chin, her eyes drifting aimlessly across the screen in front of her. Everything suddenly seemed so trivial. There was always risk involved in their line of work. Bette had had her fair share of close shaves in the past; scuffles gone sour, being threatened with all manner of weapons, and - except for a few unlucky occasions - dodging fists. But for this morning's events she felt both scared and responsible.

Her attention shifted over the partition to where Tina was perched a few feet away in conversation with Jackson, a cup of coffee in hand. The unexpected depth of the feelings she had for Tina were bold but delicate at the same time, and Bette held them close to her chest, still working out the most careful way to carry them. It was always with a note of surprise when Bette considered how her thoughts and musings now orbited around Tina; how she seemed to compliment Bette in ways that she hadn't known needed it. Although Tina was soft where Bette's edges were hard, she still managed to stand her ground with grace. And when Bette's field of vision was blurred and murky, Tina seemed to lay out the path ahead so clearly. Bette's lips curved into a private smile as she watched Tina laugh, the image of her blonde head tipped back in pure joy spreading warmly underneath her ribcage.

"Porter!" From Myers tone of voice it wasn’t the first time he'd said her name. Startled, Bette nearly knocked over her own coffee as something heavy thudded onto her desk, sending ripples of the liquid perilously close to the brim.

"Shit, Myers. You scared the hell out of me,"

"Sorry. I didn't realise you were still waking up," Myers quipped with warmth in his voice. Leaning over, his towering frame nudged a cardboard collection box toward her. It was the monthly donation drive for the youth justice charity co-founded by Cavanagh's wife, Annie. The blue and white logo, depicting two hands breaking free of handcuffs, felt a bit too on-the-nose for Bette's taste. The primary mission of Reclaimed Youth was to reduce arrests and charges for people under 25. Yet here Myers was, collecting money from an office where the income often came from enforcing those very laws.

"Is it that time already?" Bette sighed, rummaging through her desk for some spare change. Myers gave a cocky grin.

"Like clockwork, every month. Cough up, sleepy head." 

Charity collections suited Myers perfectly, and he knew it. His contagious smile and friendly-giant charm made it nearly impossible for even the most reluctant to refuse parting with their hard-earned cash. Bette stuffed a ten-dollar note and a handful of coins into the box, watching as Myers gave it a gleeful shake before moving on to his next target.

Her gaze turned towards Cavanagh's office as the man himself swung the door open and stepped out. Bette hadn't realised he had been inside. His attention moved to her, and it was like seeing an artillery piece wheeling into position. Her throat felt like it was full of bark as his eyes landed on her and, inexplicably, she dropped her hands to her side and gave an overly bright smile in greeting. Dead giveaway. Arms folded across his broad chest, Cavanagh jerked his head back towards his office in a silent but clear request. Rising slowly from her chair, Bette reluctantly followed him inside and closed the door.

"Sit," he snapped, the word sounding like the crack of a whip. Oh boy. Her stomach churned uncomfortably. 

"What part of our conversation didn't you understand?" he began, his voice terrifyingly low.

"I-" Bette started, but he cut her off with a wave.

"No. You listen to me, for once." He slammed the beefy hand onto the desk, the chaos of paper and mugs threatening to topple. "Less than 24 hours after you were explicitly instructed to back off, and you were out tailing Dominic? You can't keep your head down for one day? Just one day, Porter. You push and push, ignoring the consequences and being arrogant enough to think the rules don't apply to you!"

Bette bristled but kept her lips tightly together, suppressing the urge to point out that he had technically just asked her a lot of questions that he wouldn't let her answer. Cavanagh definitely did not seem in an enlightening frame of mind, even to hear what Dominic had passed on last night, and she sure as hell wasn't going to try and convince him while he was mid-rant.

He launched into a tirade that, Bette reasoned diplomatically, had probably been brewing for quite some time. Still, it was unlike him to raise his voice - even by the marginal volume that he had - and Bette found herself a little affronted. She focused instead on the vein in his forehead, watching it bulge in frustration against his reddening skin. A muscle flickered in her jaw while she applied a modest restraint not to retaliate to his arguments, instead opting to sit in uncharacteristic silence while he exhausted himself. Although it wasn't anything she hadn't heard some iteration of before, she still felt the uncomfortable twinge of guilt lodging itself behind her sternum while he lectured her on how he expected better from her, and that she had a responsibility to set a better example.

After a few solid minutes of blowing off steam, he took a deep breath as the onslaught seemed to come to an end. Bette thought it was over, but then his piercing blue gaze shifted past her like a sniper to where Tina was outside his office, caught in the crosshairs of his glare. Her heart sank as he beckoned Tina inside, knowing that she was about to walk into the lion's den.

"She didn't have anything to do with this, Cav. Sir," Bette said quickly.

His expression hardened. "You expect me to believe she just came along for the ride?"

"Under my instruction, yes, sir." Bette replied without hesitation. "She made it clear that she objected to it."

She held her breath, hoping her words might sway Cavanagh's opinion even a little bit. But he almost incinerated her with a glare as Tina entered the room, the blonde pointedly avoiding eye contact with Bette.

"Can I assume you know why you've been invited in here?" Cavanagh directed the question at Tina, who nodded in response. "Yes, sir."

"I would like to make it clear that you're not without fault here, Detective Kennard. I would expect someone with your experience and wit to be able to determine that an unsanctioned operation is outside of what is acceptable." He paused, his next words chosen carefully. "However, given that your assigned partner - who is a senior detective at this precinct, not that you would know it by her actions - has said that she ordered your participation, I'm prepared to put this down as a lapse in your better judgement, considering your new surroundings."

Tina made a confused noise somewhere between an affirmation and a question, but stopped short of actually speaking. Bette winced internally at his final slice into her professionalism. Surely he was done now. Bette wasn't sure how much longer she could sit there with her mouth shut. But, she decided, if he wanted to play the game of trying to bait her until she lost her temper, he was certainly going to lose.

Cavanagh finally eased back in his chair, eyes shifting between the two women across from him. The tension had seemed to ease off and if Bette knew anything about him, it was that he would be starting to feel remorseful for his strong words. 

"Listen, both of you," he began, his tone a little more composed now. Bette fought back a smirk, knowing he was softening. "There's a lot happening behind the scenes that you might not be aware of. Believe me, I know how hard this is to swallow. However, despite your actions last night - and probably, my better judgement - I am obligated to show you this. Take a look."

With a squeak, he pivoted the monitor towards them. The text was too small for the detectives to read clearly, prompting Tina to lean over Bette's shoulder. Together, their eyes scanned the screen until they reached the unmistakable dark red emblem of the Internal Affairs Bureau at the bottom of an email.

"Read it. IAB has uncovered more evidence. They're calling it hard evidence. Unfortunately, Warren is likely headed to trial for this," Cavanagh said solemnly. Bette eyed him curiously before glancing up at Tina, who had adopted a more assertive stance, hand planted firmly on her hip.

"What kind of evidence?" Tina asked. Bette could tell from the slight inflection in her tone that they were both unsatisfied with the company line that had been dribbled down to them.

"They're not at liberty to disclose," Cavanagh replied neutrally. "But this ends here, understand? At best, last night was a mistake. At worst? It could be considered an offence." He shifted his stern expression between them both. "I'm sharing this information with you purely because I need you to understand why it stops here. Do not blow your careers over this. We've already lost one detective—I don't want to lose two more."

Bette itched for more answers, but she sensed Tina retreating.

"Thank you sir. Is that all?"

"That's it. Your new cases are on the board, along with your new partners. Just…" Cavanagh hesitated, his expression wavering. He almost seemed on the brink of some kind of apology, but the glower on Bette's face put an end to that. "Don't let me see either of you for the rest of the day."

Bette skulked out of Cavanagh's office and made her way to the board, scanning for her new case allocation. Tina pulled to a stop beside her, both of them avoiding eye contact, aware of Cavanagh's watchful eyes from his office.

"Don't let me see you for the rest of the day," Bette imitated in a quiet voice. "Does that mean we can skip the morning briefing?"

Tina shot her a sideways glance. "Don't be a smart ass."

"Oh, I'm not. A true smart ass would have asked him that back in his office." Bette retorted.

Tina stifled a snort and shook her head.

"Oh, perfect. A property and possession case, that's exactly what I need right now." Those cases were low-risk but tough, and it meant a lot of sitting in the home of the family, listening to domestic disputes that were almost always unresolvable because at their core, people were stubborn and proud.

"How bad was it before I came in?" Tina asked.

Bette tilted her head. "Pretty bad. I would say in the top ten memorable ass-handings that Cavanagh has given me over the years."

Tina smirked. "Top ten? Jesus, Porter, what else have you pulled?"

"Stories for another day. I can't reveal all my best material this early in our-" She had been about to say relationship. It had nearly fallen from her mouth before she had lassoed an invisible thread to it and hauled it back inside where it belonged. So far, there had been no discussion of the nature of their situation, and now certainly didn't feel like the right time. An awkward silence started to balloon between them, and Bette's cheeks flushed. 

"He didn't say how he found out about last night." Bette reverted back to a safe topic. She chanced a look to her left, watching Tina's hazel eyes move up and down the case board. Fixating on the grin at the sides of Tina's mouth, Bette watched her nod slowly, rolling with the new direction of conversation. That did not go unmissed, Bette concluded as she willed the colour in her cheeks away. Tina shifted her weight to the other foot, and almost invisibly brushed the back of Bette's hand with her knuckles. They stood in silence for a few moments, both staring at the case board ahead with matching misplaced grins. 

"Is it possible that… Olivia might have mentioned it to him?" Tina said tentatively.

At first Bette shook her head vehemently, then shrugged. "Possible. But not likely."

"Well, who else? Or do you think your phone could be bugged? Your car, maybe?"

Bette turned to face her. "That's a leap. Not impossible though. I just want to know what IAB has found that we didn't find yesterday - or in his house, or at the scene of the homicide. And even so,  we only had the preliminary ballistics report from Taylor, and you're still waiting on the manufacturer's report. Which is an absolute joke, by the way. A murder investigation concerning one of their firearms should have been a priority for that fucking company."

"A firearm they haven't produced in a million years." Tina muttered, and sighed, running her hand through her hair in what was quickly becoming Bette's favourite movement. "It must have been pretty convincing evidence, whatever it was."

"Or it was just 'hard evidence'. Whatever that means." Bette took a step back from the board and pivoted slowly, ready to take on her next case. She shook her head and kicked at a loose thread of carpet with her toe. "You know, I really felt like there was something there yesterday, but we just couldn't see it yet. And now I'm just second-guessing myself, wondering if I've been too pig-headed to look at the facts that are plain and simple."

Tina gave a tight-lipped smile and tilted her head, her gaze tunnelling into Bette's profile. "Do you really think that?"

"Honestly? No."

Enough time had passed for the traditional cursory glance that the case board usually demanded, and with a unified sigh they began to walk to their respective desks. Tina's expression was a combination of deep thought and consternation, and Bette felt like she could almost hear the cogs turning behind her eyes.

"You're thinking something."

"I'm always thinking," Tina responded distantly before returning her gaze to Bette, who raised an eyebrow in invitation. "We can talk about it later though."

Bette's brows knitted together, puzzled. "Later?"

"Yeah. Later, when you take me home." Tina flashed a grin and walked to her desk without looking back. 

The rest of the day went by faster than Bette had expected, given that her new case wasn't particularly thrilling. Initially, her mind kept drifting back to Cavanagh's words and the email from IAB, and she felt an unexpected pang of guilt over Warren's situation. Tina had left the precinct with Myers before lunch, and while Bette missed her presence, she realised just how distracted she had been. With Tina gone, she stopped looking up from her screen every time someone walked by, knowing she wouldn't see that familiar face, the pink lips that curved into a smile every time she caught her eye. 

Bette tackled the case she had been handed with little enthusiasm. It was monotonous and filled with administrative tasks, bogged down with overlooked details and sparsely completed forms. With a weary sigh, she reminded herself that many a case had come undone because of the grunt work; searching through phone records, door to door enquiries and endless phone calls. All the same, it was frustrating to pick up a case partway through. Bette liked making her own mistakes, instead of inheriting the results of other people's poor judgement. Given that there wasn't anything urgent that would change in the next few hours, once the clock struck five Bette decided to treat herself to finishing on time, and sketched a wave to the lingering officers on her way towards the stairs. 

The door to the locker room swung closed behind Bette as she walked across the room, fingers already working to free her shirt buttons from their holes. Tina's head popped around the corner, and her face broke into a bright smile, eyes sparkling at the sight of Bette. A grin prickled at Bette's mouth and she relented, letting it dominate her features as she walked towards her. Tina was part-way through changing at her locker around the corner, wearing just a black bra and her trousers, her lean body dotted with freckles that seemed to sway across her skin as she moved. Bette bit the inside of her cheek, unsure of where to look despite having seen Tina in arguably much less clothing. There was something uniquely intimate about watching someone get dressed. 

"You made it out on time," Tina said with a note of surprise, pulling a green t-shirt over her head. Bette yanked open her locker opposite Tina's, and tossed her bag onto the low bench between them. 

"Yeah, no surprises there. Not much to do on that case just yet. It's rare and it won't last, but I still can't stand it. I hate being bored."

"Poor baby," Tina teased.

Bette chuckled, shaking her head as she turned around to face Tina. "I'm not complaining. I'm just saying I'm glad it's not always like this. I feel like I'm trying to solve a crime from behind a computer."

Tina leaned back against her locker, her eyes fixed on Bette as she unbuttoned her shirt. There was no attempt to hide her interest - her gaze was intense, following Bette's fingers as they slowly worked each button free. Their eyes locked, the silence between them suddenly heated and thick. As Bette reached the final button, Tina bit her lip and raised an eyebrow, the playful challenge in her eyes unmistakable. Bette's heart pounded as she tilted her head, watching Tina closely in return. She paused, her fingers lingering on the fabric, then with a sudden move, ripped her shirt open theatrically. Both women's laughter filled the room as Tina's eyes widened in mock surprise. She let out a low whistle, looking Bette up and down, and then threw her head back with genuine glee. 

"You're a menace," Bette teased, glancing around to make sure they were still alone.

Tina gave a smug smile and shrugged. "I like what I see."

"Careful," Bette warned playfully. "You might get more than you bargained for."

"Oh, I'm counting on it."

Bette laughed, turning back to her locker. She threaded her shirt through a hanger, half-deciding it had another day's wear in it. When she couldn't remember the last time she had brought in a clean shirt, she changed her mind and stuffed it in her bag to take home. While Bette was preoccupied, Tina crossed the distance between them, placing her hands gently on Bette's bare hips from behind. She kissed the soft skin between Bette's shoulders.

"I feel like I haven't seen you all day," Tina murmured.

Turning to face Tina, still topless, Bette felt a trill of exhilaration as their lips met. The gentle kiss felt both wrong and right, Bette realising with a start that she had never kissed anyone at work before. It felt something akin to being a mischievous teenager sneaking a kiss in the locker room - which was almost exactly what it was. She lifted her lips to kiss Tina on the forehead, the gesture feeling overwhelmingly intimate but perfect at the same time. 

"Aren't you sick of me yet?" Bette whispered with a teasing smile.

Tina's eyes lingered on Bette's exposed chest. "No," she replied, her voice soft but firm.

Bette cleared her throat, and Tina's gaze slowly lifted to meet hers. Bette grinned, shaking her head. "How's your new case going?"

Tina shook her head. "You know, for some reason, it’s completely disappeared from my mind."

"I see. How strange." Bette smirked. Tina hummed in agreement, and they shared another lingering kiss.

"So are you -" Bette started but cut herself off at the sound of the door opening. They sprang apart, Tina positioning herself down casually on the bench as another officer walked past them towards the bathrooms. Bette cleared her throat and continued. "Are you ready for your police escort home?"

Tina whispered. "Police escort? What, are you going to wear your uniform? Bring your handcuffs?"

Tina laughed silently, her shoulders shaking with mirth. Bette tried to shush her but couldn't help snickering herself. She stole a glance toward the bathrooms, wary of being overheard, but Tina's mischievous giggling was too contagious to ignore.

With a satisfied sigh, Tina shouldered her bag and rose to her feet. Bette twirled the keys to her work car in her hand before wrapping them around her fingers, a habit she'd never dropped.

"Hey, do you know any good places for risotto?" Tina's question caught Bette off guard, her mind still anchored in the light-hearted moments before.

"For what?" 

"Risotto. I've been craving it all day. I was thinking about ordering some in tonight, if you have any suggestions… Or you could join me, if you're not too tired. Assuming you don't have plans tonight, of course."

They exchanged a knowing smirk. Any good detective knew better than to make weeknight plans. You never knew what time you would be home, or if you would get to eat anything but a lukewarm roadside hamburger. Bette's easy smile faltered as her mind took her from trying to think of a restaurant, to imagining Tina opening the door to someone she thought would be a delivery driver. Dominic's words resurged, like brushing up against an electric fence. 

"You know, I actually make a pretty good risotto," she offered. Good might have been a stretch. Bette had attempted to make it once or twice in the past, but she wouldn't have said cooking was her forte - let alone a dish that required a certain amount of patience and close attention. Their heads turned in unison as they heard the door swing shut, the other officer leaving silently.

Tina returned her gaze to Bette, eyeing her with a hint of suspicion. "You make a good risotto?"

Leaning in to kiss her once more, Bette nodded. "Yeah, actually I do. I could make it for you. See if it meets your standards. Save you trying your luck with a delivery,"

Tilting her head, Tina planted another quick kiss on Bette's lips. "Okay, then. Bette Porter's signature risotto it is."

Bette grinned, slamming her rickety locker door shut before they walked out together. She held the door for Tina, who paused halfway through with her eyes crinkled in amusement.

"Porter, why can't you ever just ask me out normally?"

"I don't know. In case you say no?"

Chapter Text

Shopping with Tina had felt unexpectedly domestic, a small glimpse at what life could be like under the banner of a grocery store. Bette tried to keep her heart in check, resisting the urge to let her imagination run wild. Tina moved with the same quiet but sharp attention she applied to everything - her keen eyes scanning the shelves, her affect warm and patient as she picked out each item from Bette’s list. The conversation came easily, the casual flirtation in the aisles even more naturally. There was something about the way that Tina’s eyes shone when she glanced across at Bette that made her realise that Tina could make even the most mundane of tasks like grocery shopping suddenly feel interesting. Bette couldn’t have stopped herself from grinning, even if she had tried. It felt almost too good to be true, but she had to try and let herself trust it all the same. 

When they arrived at Tina’s apartment, Bette realised she hadn’t been exaggerating about its state. The place was almost empty, with a scattering of half-unpacked boxes framing the space. The apartment itself was stunning - flooded with beautiful afternoon light, a spacious balcony, high ceilings, and dark wooden floors. The only sign of life was a new, plush rug in a bold, earthy orange, standing out as the sole pop of colour in a room otherwise void of furniture. As she considered it, Bette felt like she consolidated some of what she knew of Tina. The choice of rug - bright, bold, and chosen before any other piece of furniture - seemed so fitting for her. Bette could easily imagine Tina seeing it, falling in love with it and deciding to build the room around something that brought her joy. It was a little glimpse into how Tina saw the world, and even though Bette didn’t know her too intimately just yet, she knew how she felt when she was around her. Everything else could be learned in time. When you cared about someone, the things that couldn’t be taught were what mattered most. 

As Bette looked around the rest of the apartment, she was still at a loss at the way Tina always managed to show up to work looking so put-together when her place was this bare. It was just one more thing that made Tina a bit of a mystery, and something she quietly hoped she would have a chance to figure out some day. 

The risotto had almost turned out well, if not for Bette’s constant distractions. Tina had been mid-sentence when she reached out to trace Bette's necklace, which led inevitably to a soft few moments of kissing, causing the rice to burn a little - well, more than a little. Then came the moment of adding the liquid, where Bette, not wanting to break the flow of their conversation, decided to wing it instead of checking the recipe. The result was a little off, but every time Tina’s hand found its way up her back, Bette lost focus, turning to kiss her with a grin. In the absence of any kind of table, they ended up eating on the kitchen counter, legs swinging. With the bottle of wine already long gone, they settled for a glass of icy lemonade which Bette was more than surprised to discover in the refrigerator. 

Bette scrunched up her nose, unable to let her explanation rest. "Well, it’s not my best work. It’s usually a lot better."

"Will you stop? I thought it was delicious. And the burnt bits? Extra crunch, extra texture. I’m a fan. Maybe that’s the key," Tina said, trying to keep a straight face. "Maybe everyone else has  been doing it wrong. We should tell people to burn their rice. Get the word out... maybe write to a food magazine or something." Her lower lip trembled as she started giggling.

Bette shoved her playfully. "Are you done?" But she couldn’t help laughing too after seeing Tina’s smile break open. She shook her head. "I can’t believe I fumbled the bag on one of the few dishes I can actually make."

Tina chuckled again, nearly choking on her last bite. "Wait, this is one of your only dishes, and you messed it up this bad?"

"Shut up," Bette snorted, nudging her with her shoulder as she poked at the sad risotto in her bowl. "Honestly, I’m just impressed I even found two bowls in this place, given the state of things." They both laughed at that, and then Bette leaned in to silence Tina with a kiss as she set her bowl aside. Tina relaxed into her, a hand sliding onto Bette’s inner thigh.

"Your only dish—" Tina began with a grin, but Bette cut her off with another kiss, shushing her with her lips.

"Well, it's not the only thing in my repertoire," Bette said in a low voice.

"I'm sure it’s not. I know it’s not," Tina said, leaning in for another kiss. "I saw that little striptease move of yours in the locker room. That was no accident - definitely a practised move."

Bette pretended to be shocked, though her cheeks flushed. She loved how Tina didn’t take her too seriously, how she could laugh at herself with her. It wasn’t meant to embarrass - it was meant to make her heart race. And it did.

Tina slid off the counter, positioning herself between Bette’s legs. She wrapped her arms around Bette's waist, tilting her chin up to meet her lips again.

"You’re ridiculous," Bette said with a grin, her skin tingling where Tina's fingers brushed under her shirt. Tina kissed her again, her lips firmer and slower against Bette’s mouth. 

"And you’re wearing way too many clothes," Tina teased, tugging at Bette’s top. "House rules, I’m afraid."

Bette playfully placed a hand at the hem of her shirt, stopping Tina from pulling it up, and laughed at Tina’s exaggerated pout. "House rules? Funny, you didn’t mention any rules before I came over."

"That’s because I hadn’t thought of any yet. You only need house rules when you have company. And you’re my first guest." Tina tilted her head and pressed into the brunette with her mouth, the quiet urgency building steadily in the pit of Bette’s stomach. Her hands found their way into Tina’s hair, and she weaved her fingers through it and pulled her closer. A thrill ran across Bette’s chest as her shirt was lifted over her head. 

"Any other ‘house rules’ I should know about?" Bette asked. 

Tina’s hand closed gently but firmly around Bette’s jaw, her fingers pressing just enough to make Bette’s pulse race before she dropped them to trace the outline of her breast against her bra. She leaned in, sliding her tongue into Bette’s mouth, earning a moan as Bette’s skin buzzed with electricity. Tina’s other hand pushed against her lower back, tilting Bette’s hips closer to the blonde’s body. 

"Guests come first," Tina whispered against her lips.

Heat rushed into Bette’s cheeks and surged through her body, and she drew the blonde closer, crossing her ankles behind Tina to hold her tight. Her hands travelled urgently from Tina’s waist to her back as they kissed, trying to take in every sensation as their lips slid together. One hand moved to cradle Tina’s head, holding it steady while her tongue explored Tina’s lips, before meeting with Tina’s own in an unspoken fight for dominance. Bette felt an intense ache growing, her body responding with a deeper, stronger passion each time they touched. The sensation of Tina’s skin against hers, the undeniable attraction - it was powerful. My first guest. It wasn’t exactly a declaration of love, but it echoed in Bette’s mind all the same as their clothes were cast on the floor around them. They made their way down the short hall, their footsteps hasty and intertwined. Tina’s intentions were unmistakably clear. Every deliberate move made Bette thrum with anticipation, the thrill of Tina wanting her almost too intense to bear. 

On the floor of the bedroom, the carefully made bed was unlike any traditional setup, its simplicity mirroring the intimate, raw quality of their lips sliding in hot streaks across each other. It felt as if everything was stripped away, leaving only the two of them in a space that was undeniably theirs. As Bette tried to move on top of Tina, she found herself quickly resisted, Tina pinning Bette’s hand above her head with a grin, her brow arched in question. 

"House rules, of course," Bette remembered with a low chuckle. She felt as though she could easily get lost in Tina’s features - the sly smile curving her lips, the glint in her eyes that seemed to look right inside her, seeing her for more than she thought she was. 

"Exactly," Tina nodded. Her lips were darkened and swollen as she placed them softly onto Bette’s neck, sucking the skin softly into her mouth while Bette tilted her head back and moaned softly. Tina slid her leg in between Bette's and slowly started to roll her hips against her, the bare skin of their bodies moving soundlessly against one another. The tightness in her core was guiding Bette’s movements now, any semblance of control slipping away. Her legs parted in search of more than just the simple pressure of Tina's toned thigh, and she clutched at the blonde’s hips, pulling it harder towards her. 

The tease was unbearable, and Tina knew it. Her kisses were longer and slower before she ran her tongue lazily across Bette's chest. Her fingertips dragged along the inside of the brunette’s thigh as she took her hardened nipple into her mouth and drew it gently in with her teeth. Clawing at the blonde’s hair, Bette squirmed beneath the firm body on top of her, trying to open herself up more and grind softly against it - but Tina kept herself steady, making it wordlessly clear that she was setting the pace and that if Bette wanted it, she would have to simply submit. 

Tina positioned her mouth a few inches away from Bette’s, her darkened eyes watching the brunette’s expression closely as she stroked her glistening folds with a single finger. It felt inexplicably cool against the sheer heat of her, and Bette groaned into the sensation. Tina’s satisfied moan and the sound of her own slickness confirmed what she already knew - she was beyond wet and she didn't care, she only craved release. Gasping as Tina’s finger slid slowly back and along the sensitive slick skin, the sensation was both too much and not enough all at once. Tilting her hips up, she invited more of the blonde inside her when suddenly the finger disappeared. Her low whine of protest was met with a soft chuckle as Tina’s eyes searched hers. 

“Always so impatient,” she tutted playfully, before taking Bette’s lower lip between her teeth and nipping it gently. Bette felt a fresh surge of desire and clawed at the blonde’s back, lifting her head from the pillow and driving her tongue into Tina’s hot mouth. She could feel how wet Tina was against her own leg and it was making her lose control into frenzied movements; clutching at her hair, her hips. The contrast of Tina’s movements; slow, deliberate, and in total control left Bette trembling and writhing below her. 

“Tease,” Bette replied softly. Tina’s fingernails scraped gently along her side, and Bette arched her back desperately. She moaned in blissful agony as Tina smirked, then licked at the finger that had been inside her just a few seconds ago. 

Tina rested her lips on the brunette’s, stilling her movements completely before she whispered into her mouth. “Think of it more like a promise than a tease.”

She slowly traced the outer edges of her, feathering a touch on her swollen clit. Bette shuddered a moan, so close already that she felt as though one wayward swipe would send her over the edge. Bette lifted her head to run her tongue over Tina’s breast, chest, shoulder - anything she could put her mouth to. She turned her head to kiss at Tina’s forearm, steady and strong in propping her up above the brunette. Tina paused the fingers that were gliding over Bette’s folds, and silenced the brunette’s disgruntled moan with a kiss before driving two fingers deep inside of her. The cry from Bette’s lips was carnal, and a glance up at Tina’s satisfied expression was enough to cause a fresh spill around the blonde’s hand. 

Bette realised that Tina had her completely wrapped around her finger - literally. As she gazed back at the blonde’s parted lips, she realised with sudden clarity that she was falling in love, and felt helpless to resist it. Normally, those kinds of thoughts might pull her out of the moment, but instead they only heightened the satisfying thrust of Tina’s fingers inside her. She cried out again as Tina quickened her movements and ran her teeth along Bette’s neck, the sharpness somehow exactly what she needed, as if Tina was reading her mind or her body- or both. Instinctively, her hips rose and fell to meet Tina's hand, the rhythm building quickly, Bette had the fleeting feeling that it was too much, too fast, but quickly quashed the reflex to pull back. The sensation surged, coiling tightly inside her and threatening to implode as she panted into Tina’s open mouth.

Their eyes locked briefly and Tina’s lips curled into a soft smile. "I love that I can feel it when you're about to come,"

Her words made Bette’s eyes roll back, floored by the intimacy of the moment. Overcome with sensation and emotion, she closed her eyes and buried her face into Tina’s neck.

"Hey," Tina panted. Bette glanced up and Tina kissed her hungrily. "Don't hide away from me. I want to see you - I want to see everything."

That was the final blow that sent Bette over the edge, her inhibitions crumbling under the sheer intensity of the moment. Each of her jagged cries were as guttural as the next as the sensation ripped through her. She could feel her nails digging hard into the soft skin of Tina’s back and couldn't stop, but the arch of the blonde’s shoulders let her know that it was welcomed. The fingers inside her slowed, stretching out the residual pulses of electricity from deep inside her. Her chest was heaving as she quivered underneath the blonde’s body, completely at her mercy. Tina’s lips were gentle against her cheek, and the feeling of her grin was undeniable before she lifted her head to reveal it, landing a soft kiss on Bette’s lips. 

In that quiet moment, Bette completely surrendered, letting go of the instinct to moderate herself. Without the weight of her own thoughts, her senses were wildly heightened. All she could focus on was the connection with Tina's eyes and their synchronised breathing. Dropping to her elbow, Tina reached and held the back of Bette’s neck, the shape of her hand feeling like a promise to hold Bette steady for as long as she needed. 

As Bette’s ragged breaths began to slow, Tina’s kisses traced softly along her cheeks and the corners of her lips. Her eyes bore into Bette with profound intensity, laced with an undefinable emotion that Bette couldn’t quite place, but she knew now that wasn’t afraid of it. 

*

Waking up together felt like something Bette could get used to. Sunlight streamed through the gap in the blinds, throwing a warm glow on Tina's golden hair, and making her eyes seem more green than hazel in the morning light. Bette found herself fascinated by the many versions of Tina she’d come across so far. The considerate customer at the grocery store yesterday, who let an elderly man go ahead of them at the checkout. The supportive sous chef from last night, who worked in with her seamlessly to prepare the meal, even if the dish didn’t quite turn out as planned. The passionate and intuitive lover who made her feel as though they’d invented sex, the kind of tantric connection that consumed every fibre of her emotional and physical being. The softly snoring version who, during the night, curled behind Bette, her naked form pressed against her back, an arm draped around her like it had always belonged there.

Each time Bette discovered a new side of Tina, she committed it to memory, tucking it away under her ribs, close enough to pull out whenever she wanted. This morning, she woke facing  tousle-haired, relaxed, and sleepy Tina. Her skin was warm from sleep, their feet gently touching, as Tina lazily twirled the curls at the base of Bette's neck. She watched Tina study her, as if memorising the features Bette had seen in the mirror countless times, but now with her heart fully engaged. Bette stretched her arm above her head, her eyes flicking briefly to the clock on the windowsill. They still had a little time.

"You look like Daphne Thorne, laying like that," Tina said softly out of nowhere, her gaze unchanged as she tucked Bette's hair behind her ear.

"Who?"

"Daphne Thorne? You know, when she is sprawled on the chaise longue waiting for her next lover."

Bette shook her head, grinning and pleasantly puzzled. 

"Oh my god, Porter. Don’t tell me you haven’t been to see Heart of Achilles? It's only the most iconic show ever."

She leaned forward a few inches and nuzzled into Tina's warm neck. "Is this the right time to tell you I've never been to a play?"

Tina's head jerked up from the pillow. "What? Oh, come on, Bette. Not even once?"

"I just never had the occasion to go. And besides, I wouldn't even know what to see." Bette gave a one-shouldered shrug, watching as Tina's eyes started sparkling, admiring how she somehow looked even more beautiful with threads of her blonde hair standing on end from where she had lay on the pillow.

"I love the theatre. You can just go in there and escape into another reality - it's so much more involved than seeing a film on a screen. You can feel everything that's happening, and it's pure art, the way that everyone knows exactly what to do, and when to do it." She grinned excitedly and leaned forward to rub her nose on Bette's. "I'll take you one time."

Leaning back onto the pillows, Tina raised her arm to welcome Bette onto her chest. The steady thump of her heart began to sound in Bette's ear, calm and consistent, just like Tina herself. Craning her neck up slightly, she landed a kiss on the underside of Tina's chin.

"As long as it's something good. And that you actually want to take me, not because you think I'm some sort of theatre charity case." Bette went to resume her position laying on Tina's chest, but found herself being launched away as Tina sat bolt upright. Taken aback at the sudden movement, Bette looked at her questioningly, watching her eyes dart backwards and forwards.

"Charity case…" Tina said quietly, distractedly.

"You know what I meant—"

"No, no. The theatre." Tina said, a little more conviction in her voice although she still wasn't making any sense to Bette.

"That's what you said, isn't it?"

"No, it's what he said. When he - when was it? I’m sure I saw…"

Bette was really confused now and she shook her head, bewildered. "I'm not following. What are you talking about?"

Extracting herself from the sheets, Tina leapt to her feet and skittered out of the room, leaving a bewildered Bette rubbing her eyes, trying to figure out what had just happened. She propped herself up on her elbows, wondering whether she was supposed to be following her. Before she could finish the thought, Tina raced back in, throwing herself back on the bed with her laptop in hand.

"Dominic was at the theatre, on the night that Taylor was murdered." Her eyes were bright and focused now, the last remnants of sleep sliding away as she typed frantically.

"Okay… I'm with you, so far," Bette was trying to follow her train of thought.

"And the accounts weren't making sense, were they? At the pawn brokers. The money laundering."

"Also correct, but I'm not seeing the connection. What are you doing?"

Tina waved her hand impatiently. "Look! We checked his alibi out, remember? And he was at The Mousetrap, which we confirmed and witnesses attested to. At Omega Theatre."

She turned the screen around so Bette could see, pointing at the very bottom of the Omega Theatre website where they listed their partners and sponsors for each show. There, centred on the page, was a familiar blue and white logo. Tina tapped it with her finger. "I knew I had seen that logo before but I couldn't place it, until now."

She stared at Bette and chewed the inside of her cheek, deep in thought making connections inside her mind. Bette's brain, on the other hand, was moving in slow motion, wading through the thick fog before she finally got the two pieces of information to marry up.

"That doesn't necessarily mean anything, Tina." Bette said in a warning tone. "And there's at least two other partnership organisations on that page alone."

"I know, but it's got me thinking. Where could you dump a lot of cash - maybe even clean freshly laundered cash, without too many questions?"

Bette paused for a moment. "You think Dominic could be laundering money through a charity?"

Tina chewed the inside of her lip, looking somewhere near apprehensive. Bette finally caught what she was thinking. Not just any charity.

"No." Bette said flatly, finally understanding. "There's no way."

“It’s not totally outside of the realm of possibility though, is it?”

Bette sat up, shoulders stiff at the direct implication. Tina had gone straight for the jugular, and Bette's temper sparked dangerously close to a catching alight. 

"What would Annie's charity have to do with Dominic? That doesn't make any sense, and it still doesn't explain why Warren would shoot Taylor in the head, or any of the other million loose ends we had before that case was taken out of our hands. Why would Dominic be dumping money in Reclaimed Youth? There's no connection, not that we're aware of. Taylor never mentioned anything. And it's too close - everybody who’s anybody knows that's Cavanagh’s wife's charity, they wouldn't go anywhere near it. They would use a front, or start a business and slap a not-for-profit business code on it. Or, a pawn shop."

Tina’s tone was measured and firm as her gaze flickered back to the screen. “They had 258k in anonymous donations last year—”

“How did you get that so fast?” Bette interrupted, crossing her arms over her chest.

“It’s a charity, Bette. They have to be transparent about their income,” Tina responded evenly. A muscle flickered in her jaw. 

“So? That means you have to be able to see where the money went,” Bette shot back. “Any legitimate charity would surely have to meet those requirements.”

Tina’s patience was starting to thin. “Yes but is anybody actually confident where the money is going afterwards? I’m not saying it’s definitely this charity—”.

"It sure sounds like you are—”

“All I’m saying is that we should keep an open mind,” Tina insisted, her voice rising slightly, “given everything that’s happening—”

“Enough!” Bette exclaimed, cutting her off. She balled her fists, trying to keep her emotions in check. “There’s no way. She’s a solicitor, Tina, for crying out loud. She still practises law and runs a youth justice charity. You’ve met Annie. Does she strike you as someone who’d be involved in organised crime? All while she’s married to the Captain of our precinct, no less? There’s no angle on this, Tina. You’re stretching it to fit your theory, and I can’t, for the life of me, understand why.”

But rather than backing down, Tina’s temper flared in equal measure. “You’re blowing what I’m saying completely out of proportion!” she rallied, matching Bette’s intensity. “Like you said, it’s just a theory . But it’s a theory that could lead us to something big, something that could nail Dominic. And you’re just going to ignore that possibility?” Tina’s voice was even but fierce, her eyes blazing as she threw her hands up. “Or maybe it’s nothing, just a coincidence.”

Bette stared at Tina in disbelief, anger simmering beneath the surface. How could they be having this argument while she was still naked and tangled in their sheets from the night before? 

“And I don’t know about you, but I don’t believe in coincidences,” Tina added, her voice lower but no less intense.

They locked eyes, the tension between them crackling. It was that same tension that had caused so much turbulence earlier on, before they realised how to harness it. Bette bit her lip, trying to push her anger aside and see Tina’s point of view. It wasn’t easy - it felt unnatural, like putting the milk in before the cereal. Her temper was always a shield, and she felt vulnerable without it, but she owed it to Tina to try. But then, to her frustration, she felt tears spring into her eyes.

Tina, ever observant, softened her posture slightly and she reached out, placing a hand gently on her bare shoulder. Bette had to fight the instinct to push her away and resist the comfort.

She shrugged lightly, her hair shifting in the sunlight before she spoke softly but with conviction. "I’m not trying to point fingers yet. It’s just a line of inquiry that I think we should explore."

Bette sighed heavily, rubbing her face. "So, what exactly are you suggesting we do?"

"I’m not totally sure just yet. The only lead we have on any kind of cash flow is the pawn shop financial records. Those weird amounts. If we can match any of those to anonymous or pseudonymised donations to the charity - or any charity," she quickly added, hearing Bette’s scoff, "we might be able to subpoena the full records."

"That’s a long shot," Bette said, holding her hands up defensively. "I’m not just saying that! It’s far-reaching, at best."

A moment of silence stretched out as both women were thinking carefully about the risk involved in any next move they might decide to take, and the potential fallout if they were off the mark.

Tina’s voice was tentative. "Can you get access to them?" 

"From Annie’s charity?" Bette was shocked she was even considering it. Deceiving someone so close to her based on a hunch she wasn’t sure she believed in felt deeply unsettling. She rubbed her face again, mumbling, "I'm not saying I will. But if I could… I’d need specific dates, and to know exactly what I’m looking for."

Tina smiled tightly around a nod of acceptance. "Then we need to go over the pawn shop records again and be certain."

They dressed quickly, Bette pulling on yesterday’s clothes. She figured she could swing by her place and grab a fresh shirt - a quick detour on the way, nothing that would hold them up. It was still early, and they had plenty of time before they were due at the precinct. As much as Bette hated to admit it, Tina was right about exploring the possibility. She had learned by now that Tina’s instincts were worth following, even if Bette herself couldn’t see the path ahead.

A little after dawn, the chill of the morning air outside was biting at their faces as the sun sat low in the sky. Tina's street was quiet, its residents likely still swept up in the covers of their warm beds. Bette approached the car from the back, her palm brushing the cold metal of the trunk - an old cop’s habit. Although she didn't realise it, the crunch beneath her shoes was the first sign that something was seriously wrong.

She frowned, her mind registering the sound before her body could react. Sliding her hand under the driver's door handle, she recoiled almost instantly. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked down at her hand, now smeared with something dark, wet, and sticky. Blood. She stared at it, confusion giving way to horror as her brain fought to process what she was seeing. She heard Tina calling her name but it sounded distant, like it was coming down a patchy phone line.

Slowly, Bette's eyes drifted from her bloody fingers to the driver's window, or where it should have been. Instead, there was jagged glass fringing a gaping hole. Tiny shards littered the ground, sparkling in the morning light. Inside the car, the once-neutral interior was a graphic display of sickening crimson, thick and clumpy in the recesses of the seats and pooling on the floor. A high-pitched ringing filled Bette’s ears, her chest tightening with a cold, white rush. It was fear, she realised with a hazy detachment - pure and unadulterated terror.

Blood droplets clung to the outside of the door, solidifying in the cool air, forming grim patterns that dripped onto the road below in dark, viscous puddles. She held her stained hand out in front of her, cradling it as if it had been bitten. Suddenly, Tina was there, spinning her around and gripping her shoulders with a force that cut through her shock.

"Hey! Look at me. Are you hurt?" Tina’s voice cut through Bette's mind, sharp and insistent, her hazel eyes wide with concern. Bette shook her head slowly, the motion more instinct than intention. Tina turned her away from the car, leaving her facing the apartment building, holding out her blood-covered hand for what felt like an age while Tina moved around the vehicle and peered in the windows. Bette jumped as Tina suddenly appeared at her side again.

“There's nothing else in there. Did you touch anything other than the handle?”

Bette shook her head once more. When it finally came, her voice was little more than a fragile whisper. "He said he would… he did this."

"Who? Dominic?" Tina's grip returned to Bette’s shoulders, her tone rising in alarm as she glanced up and down the empty street. For a bizarre moment, Bette thought Tina might start shaking her, and she instinctively tensed, bracing herself. But instead, Tina pulled her close, holding her tightly as she reached for her phone, pressing it to her ear with a trembling hand.

Wrapped in Tina’s arms, Bette stood motionless, numb with shock. Even with her back turned to the car, the blood-soaked interior was seared into her mind, flashing behind her closed eyelids - reminding her of the threat that had now become all too real. As Tina spoke urgently into the phone, Bette's thoughts drifted to Dominic. He had made good on his promise, and in the pit of her stomach she knew this was only the beginning.

Chapter Text

Late that afternoon at the precinct, Bette glanced up as Tina approached her desk. She still looked pale beneath her concerned expression, her freckles standing out sharply against her lighter than usual skin. The precinct felt too quiet for chaos that had come before it, and the low hum of fluorescent lights vibrated in rhythm with Bette’s quiet unease.

They hadn’t spoken much since the incident, when Bette had left Tina and the officers standing on the street in front of Tina’s apartment. Myers had been the one to guide her into his car, steering her toward some semblance of normality. Bette had a somewhat vague recollection of that drive, and how utterly still everything had felt. Once home, Myers had stood outside her bathroom door while she let the water run over her skin, the heat barely registering. She remembered Myers’ deep voice through the door, steady and calm. "You're safe now. You're okay. I'm right here." His words had been keeping her grounded while the urge to break down threatened to take over. He hadn’t asked her why she’d been at Tina’s place - and for that, she was grateful.

The initial forensic report on blood in the car had come in soon after: porcine. Pig’s blood. The irony stung. She had stared at her trembling hands when she read the report, not only from fear, but from the slow prickle of injustice building beneath her skin. This was no random attack. It was personal.

She’d spent most of the morning answering questions and filing her report. As far as the investigation went, Cavanagh had ordered her to stay out of it. And for once, she didn’t fight him. She knew better - mostly. He’d left early to prepare for Annie’s charity gala, and she knew she had no leverage right now. The CCTV footage from Tina’s street had been almost useless: a figure in a balaclava, smashing the windows and pouring blood across the inside of her unmarked car. The message was clear.

Tina settled onto the chair across from Bette’s desk, the creak of the leather loud in the otherwise quiet office. Her copper eyes, always a balance between sharp and soft, narrowed as they met Bette’s.

“How are you holding up?” Tina asked quietly. For a moment, the noise in Bette’s head quieted. Tina’s blonde hair was pulled back, highlighting the freckles that dotted her pale cheeks. The familiar warmth settled in Bette’s chest, grounding her.

“Better now,” Bette replied, although the words felt hollow in her mouth. She ran a hand through her hair. “I just wasn’t expecting it, you know? I kept waiting to see a body… or for someone to jump out of the shadows. It felt like it wasn’t over.”

Tina gave a tight, almost forced smile. “Yeah, I know.”

Bette could feel Tina’s eyes on her, intense and unyielding. There was something else there, something she hadn’t said yet. Finally, after a long pause, Tina spoke, her voice low and steady. “Dominic threatened you the other night, didn’t he?”

Bette’s heart skipped uncomfortably. It was less of a question than a statement. She looked down, her throat tight as she nodded slowly. “Yeah, he did.” The weight of her admission settled over both of them.

“Tell me everything. Don’t leave anything out.” Tina demanded, leaning forward. The space between them closed as her hand briefly brushed Bette’s arm. She adjusted in her seat, knuckles white as she gripped the backrest of the chair she had straddled. Bette could feel Tina’s gaze on her, with an intensity that made Bette want to hold onto her.

Bette swallowed hard, the words thick on her tongue as they came out. She recounted everything - how Dominic had cornered her, the venomous edge in his voice as he spat threats that made her blood run cold. She didn’t spare a single detail, repeating his words verbatim, knowing that withholding anything would only deepen Tina’s hurt. By the time she finished, she was exhausted, every word draining a little more from her.

Tina stayed quiet for a long time, her expression obscured by her hands as she rubbed her forehead. Bette’s stomach twisted as she waited for her reaction. Her silence was unsettling. 

“You’re angry I didn’t tell you,” Bette ventured finally.

Tina didn’t blink. “Yeah, Porter. You bet I’m angry.”

Bette winced. "I didn’t want you to be scared,” she said, guilt heavy in her chest as she tried weakly to justify her actions.

Tina’s voice was sharp.  “You already said that. But you don’t get to decide how I feel. You had no right to keep that from me.”

“I know,” Bette admitted. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but I just - I made a bad decision.”

Tina let out a long breath, her expression softening slightly. “What’s done is done. Just… no more secrets. You’re the only person I feel like I can trust, but you have to hold up your end of the deal.”

A brief silence settled between them, the tension present but easing. But Bette could tell Tina wasn’t done. There was something else on her mind.

“This isn’t going to stop, Bette,” Tina said, her eyes burning into Bette’s. “You know that, right? It won’t just go away. We have a chance to get something real here - something big. And if we’re going to get it, we’re going to need dates, amounts… we need some evidence.”

Bette could feel her pulse quickening, but she didn’t interrupt. She knew Tina was right. Tina pulled out her notepad, quickly flipping through the pages before tearing one off and folding it in half. She leaned in, just enough for Bette to catch the faint scent of her perfume - subtle but so undeniably her. Tina’s fingers brushed against Bette’s chest as she tucked the folded page into her shirt pocket, the contact brief but enough to heighten Bette’s senses, and she ventured a small grin. As always, Tina had come to the party prepared. 

“You knew I would say yes,” Bette quirked an eyebrow.

Tina gave a half-smile. “I knew you wouldn’t say no.”

Bette pulled the page from her pocket and glanced down, recognising some of the transactions and numbers that she and Tina had pulled from the pawn shop financial records. She exhaled slowly.

“We need to look into Reclaimed Youth. The money laundering could be happening through them, whether you like it or not. If we can prove that, if we can tie this back to Dominic…” Tina trailed off but her voice hardened as her determination solidified. 

Bette paused, considering the weight of what she was about to do. She shook her head gently, batting away her reservations with difficulty. Finally, she relented.

“I'll go. I'll look,”

“What are you going to say if someone sees you there?” Tina asked gently. “Do you want me to come with you?”

Bette shook her head again, this time more resolute. She wanted Tina to stay precisely where someone could see her. 

“No, no. And don’t worry about that, I'll think of something. Just… stay here at the precinct. I’ll come back for you when I’m done. We can figure out whether to head to my place or a hotel.”

“They offered to station officers outside our homes,” Tina reminded her. “I don't mean to sound paranoid, but I'm-”

“- worried Dominic’s already compromised some of them?” Bette offered. She had the same thought. Or worse - that anyone in uniform outside their homes could be the target of another demonstration. 

Tina nodded. “I don’t want to attract any more attention. He’ll use whatever leverage he can.”

"We'll figure something out."

It was late now, much later than Bette had planned. At least an hour had been lost since she left the precinct, a traffic jam causing her to curse freely in the solitude of the car. Her mind still raced with everything that had happened since she woke that morning, everything that had been said between her and Tina: on top of everything else, she was now adjusting herself to the concept that another slight had been forgiven. Once free of the original gridlock, the drive to the Reclaimed Youth office had been a blur of neon lights and darkening streets, and the weight of exhaustion pressed heavily on her. Whether it was for bliss or strain, she felt as though she  hadn’t slept properly in days. Her reflection in the rear-view mirror had startled her as she parked up - her curly brown hair in more than its usual disarray, a wildness to it that matched her current state of mind. There was a paleness to her normally dark complexion, the impact of the last 12 hours evident in the dullness below her eyes. She barely recognised herself.

What am I doing? Bette thought, gripping the steering wheel for a moment before stepping out of the car. She knew the answer, even as she asked herself the question: she was looking for answers. But God, was she exhausted. The truth always came with a cost, and Bette felt like she was paying in advance tonight.

The Reclaimed Youth office was nestled among a row of similar buildings, a quiet townhouse that blended into the less-chaotic part of the business district. It didn’t scream “charity front for money laundering,” but Bette groaned as her instincts told her she was in the right place. The lights inside were dim, and the warm evening air swept at her skin as she approached the front door, rehearsing her excuse in her mind for the thousandth time. She hated this feeling - like she was about to do something wrong, even though she knew she had no other choice. It just wasn’t her choice. 

Her hands shook slightly as she pushed the door open, the faint jingle of the entry bell sounding like a quiet judgement. She was greeted by the receptionist, a friendly woman Bette vaguely recognised from previous visits.

“Hey, Detective Porter,” the receptionist greeted, her voice warm and pleasant. She smiled, unaware of Bette’s growing unease. “What brings you here so late? Annie’s not in, she’s -”

“At the gala, I know,” Bette forced a smile, holding up the bouquet of flowers she’d picked up on her way over. “I just wanted to leave these for Annie. A little good luck gesture that I left too late, so I guess now it’s more of a ‘well done’ gift,”

The receptionist’s face lit up, her eyes twinkling. “Oh, that’s sweet of you! I’m actually about to head out myself.” She glanced down the hall, then at her watch. “I can leave them on her desk for you?”

Bette shook her head, her pulse quickening as she watched the woman gathering her things. “No, don’t worry - I still need to write in the card, I’ll take it down. I’ll just be a minute.”

“Take your time. Just remember to switch off the lights when you leave,” the receptionist said, giving her a friendly wave as she disappeared out the front door. The soft click of the door shutting resounded in the now empty space, leaving Bette alone in the quiet.

For a moment, Bette stood frozen, listening to the silence. Her nerves were shot, her hands in what seemed to be their constant state today - trembling slightly as she made her way down the corridor towards Annie’s office. The place had always felt so clean, the pristine warmth of benevolence almost tangible. Now, it felt eerie, off - like the walls were closing in around her. Something about it felt deeply wrong, but Bette wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination, exhaustion, or a combination of both.

Focus. She moved quickly into Annie’s open plan office that she shared with her small management team, all the while her heart thudded uncomfortably in her chest. The distinct scent of the old laser printer and the faint hint of Annie’s perfume lurked the air. Bette placed the bouquet gently on the desk, just as she had planned. Everything looks normal, she told herself. Stick to the plan.

She began scanning the neatly lined folders on the shelves for anything that looked like it referred to transactions, reaching the end in a panic when she came up with nothing. Beginning again, she read each word on the spines in a whisper, until her eyes locked onto a red folder labelled ‘Finance’. That will do it, she thought, shaking her head at how she could have missed it on the first pass. Plucking it from its home, she sifted through the contents, her fingers brushing across the cool metal binding clips. Every swish of paper felt deafening in the stillness. She flipped through the pages, eyes scanning for anything that looked remotely off. It didn’t take long before her instincts - well, Tina’s at least - proved right.

Her breath caught as she found the first one: a financial statement. Large donations, strange amounts, and all too convenient dates when compared with Tina’s crumpled piece of paper in her other hand. Bette’s eyes darted over the figures. No… this can’t be right. But it was. Parts of the accounts weren’t just suspicious - they were almost damning.

The discrepancies were subtle, but undeniable once she knew what to look for. Donation after donation, all arriving around eight days after sales from the pawn shop had been recorded. She started snapping pictures of the documents with her phone, sending them directly to Tina. Her mind was racing, her thoughts chaotic as she tried hazily to piece together the timeline.

Her jaw clenched and she winced as she recognised a signature at the bottom of the current page, like a nail in the coffin: Cavanagh . The hand holding the paper started to shake so badly that she had to put it down, and she wiped her clammy palm on her trousers. Wait, wait. He was on the Board, she remembered. Of course he was - she sighed in relief, trying to reel back her reflex to jump to a convenient conclusion. His signature was on a lot of Reclaimed Youth documents, financial or otherwise. 

Bette swallowed hard, her throat dry. She knew she’d need to process this all later, but for now, she kept snapping picture after picture, glancing up at the clock. She needed to move. Every record, every page. The puzzle pieces were falling haphazardly into place, but each new piece made her feel sick to her stomach and a little more bewildered. Although unsure of exactly what it would all mean when it came together, Bette knew it wouldn’t bode well.

She shoved the last file back into the folder and pressed the phone to her ear. When Tina finally answered, her voice was tight. Despite everything, the sound of Tina’s voice calmed Bette’s nerves, if only for a moment. She could picture Tina as she’d left her, blonde hair pulled into a messy ponytail, eyes narrowed in concentration.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Bette lied. “You?”

Tina paused, before getting straight to the point. “What did you find?” 

Bette took a breath before her words came streaming out. “I sent them through to you. It’s not adding up… or, well, it kind of is. There’s a delay between the money leaving the books and some weird amounts in donations arriving. It’s subtle, but if you were looking for it, you’d see it. On the 23rd, there was a difference of about four grand between my loose estimation of retail price, and sale prices at the pawn shop. Then, on the 1st, a donation of just over four grand lands. Same thing again on the 16th - another donation of nine grand, exactly eight days later.”

Tina stayed silent for a moment, processing. “So… where’s the money being held in the meantime?”

“That’s what I can’t figure out,” Bette replied, pacing slightly now. “They’re cleaning it through the pawn shop, but it can’t just be sitting there. That search they did after Hamilton, there was almost nothing suspicious aside from the goods. The last significant sale was the 7th, the day before we got Hamilton. A Patek Philippe watch. I don’t even know how they would have got that, those things don’t just turn up at shady-looking pawn shops. Anyway, I don’t know a lot about watches but the internet says that should have gone for at least eighteen grand, but they ‘sold’ it for just over half. No donation has shown up yet.”

“Right,” Tina said slowly. Bette could picture her as if she was standing in front of her, chewing on the corner of her lower lip as the cogs turned behind her eyes. Finally, Tina’s voice was clipped, but controlled. “Is everything okay on your end?”

Bette nodded, though Tina couldn’t see her. “Yeah, I’m getting out of here now. You still at the precinct?”

A brief pause, and then - “Yep. Fresh pot of tea here for you when you get back.”

Bette stopped mid-step, and tilted her head. Tea? Tina knew Bette didn’t drink tea. She blinked, trying to process the strange comment, but pushed it aside. It was late, and they were both tired. Tina was probably just as spaced out and exhausted as she was.

“Right,” Bette muttered, distracted. They ended the call and she slipped her phone back into her pocket as she glanced around the office, suddenly hyper-aware of every shadow and sound. She made her way to the door, casting one last glance at the tidy office. Her nerves were on edge, her senses heightened as she stepped back into the night air that had cooled significantly since she had arrived.

The city seemed unusually still as she approached her car. The dim street lights cast tall shadows, making everything feel distorted. Bette looked left and right, her eyes darting to the nearby parked cars. For a brief moment, her mind played tricks on her as she approached her car, convinced that the handle was covered in blood. But it was just a trick of the light, the red hue from a neon sign reflecting off the chrome. Her breath caught, and she shook her head, trying to shake the paranoia. With an urgency of seemingly no origin, she knew she had to hurry. 

The stillness of the night shift welcomed Bette like an old friend, after battling the traffic for another hour on the way back. The bullpen now felt wide, empty, and unnervingly quiet. The familiar feeling of the place she inhabited now felt like an assault on her senses, like it was clinging to her skin, her hair - everything mixing with the stale tang of old coffee. Every step echoed as she walked down the corridor, making her feel less alone than she really was. 

As Bette turned the corner, she almost collided with Olivia, who was just coming out of Cavanagh’s office. Olivia’s face was tight, her thinly veiled annoyance making it a thing of angles. Bette hadn’t seen her since blowing her off a few nights before, and a flicker of hesitation passed between them. Bette bit the bullet, testing the waters.

“How’s night shift?” 

Olivia gave a slow blink before responding, “Ugh. I'll be glad when I'm back on days.” Her voice was light, the exhaustion evident, but her eyes held a tension that Bette didn’t miss.

Bette mirrored her fatigue with a small, knowing smile, shifting her weight awkwardly. She wasn’t sure where to begin, or how much Olivia knew about the events of the day.

“I heard about what happened to you,” Olivia said after a beat, taking the thought from Bette’s mind. It would have been the perfect moment for Olivia to say, I told you so, but she didn’t. She didn’t need to. The tone of her words was enough.

Bette shook her head, gave a weary shrug. “I’m fine,” she lied, for the second time that night. Her muscles ached, her mind somehow racing and lagging all at once. “How are you?”

Olivia crossed her arms, the faint lines on her forehead deepening. “You know, I’m still in shock about Warren, I guess. I just can’t believe it. He’s a dick, sure, but… ambitious, you know? Always wanted to be the star detective. Smart, too.” She shook her head, a dark braid coming loose from her low bun. “And now this, with you - don’t you feel like it’s all a bit close to home at the moment?”

Bette nodded, her mind torn between her own perspective and Olivia’s innocence. To Olivia, Warren was guilty. Whatever frame-up that had passed through their office had worked, as far as Olivia was concerned. But Bette knew better now, even though she wasn’t sure how deep the deception went. The pieces she and Tina had uncovered pointed to something much more sinister, even though the shape of their silhouettes were still not fully formed.

“Yeah, it’s been… hard to process,” Bette said, her words empty but the best she could muster. She glanced around the desks, looking for Tina’s short blonde ponytail amongst the partitions  but not finding it.

“You’re taking a step back from this, right?” Olivia’s voice drew her attention, and she was almost startled by the stern expression on her friend’s face. “You know Dominic has friends in a lot of places - you don’t want any more of whatever this is… It’s dangerous, Bette.”

She held Bette’s eyes for another moment before they walked back toward Olivia’s desk in a muted silence. Bette’s mind flickered Olivia’s choice of words, but she shook it off. There wasn’t time to follow every stray thought. Not now.

“You going to be okay?” Olivia asked, breaking the silence as she dumped her paperwork onto the desk and began scrolling through her screen.

Bette nodded, though her heart wasn’t in it. “Yeah, I think I will be. Listen, have you seen-”

“Tina?” Olivia interrupted with a smirk, her tone teasing. Her entire expression shifted from serious to mocking as she gave Bette a look that said well?, and made a pouty, lovesick face.

Bette rolled her eyes, but she grinned in spite of herself. “Stop it, I’m begging you.”

“She’s kind of sweet, I’ve decided. And she has to have a strong head to deal with you, on any level.”

“Well, not that I need your approval, but yeah. She’s great.” Bette smiled, but suddenly it felt wrong, her nerves beginning to fray. “Speaking of…?”

Olivia shook her head as the desk phone began to ring. “You just missed her. She took off in a hurry, actually.”

Bette’s gut twisted. That wasn’t right. Tina couldn’t have left - she’d just spoken to her an hour ago, agreed to meet her. Bette tried to keep her voice steady. “Did she say where she was going?”

Olivia shook her head again, her hand hovering over the receiver. “Said to tell you she’s sorry. She just got a call about her dog and had to run.”

Bette froze. “Her dog?” Her mind spun. Tina doesn’t have a dog.

Before Bette could press further, Olivia answered the phone, cutting off any chance for more information. Bette cursed under her breath, wishing the line would go dead so she could find out more. Her mind buzzed with alarm. Tina doesn’t have a dog.

“How long ago did she leave?” Bette asked in a hushed tone, trying to sound casual though her pulse quickened.

Olivia covered the mouthpiece and shrugged. “I don’t know, about fifteen minutes ago? Everything okay?”

Bette did the mental maths, her chest tightening. Why would she leave without saying anything? And why lie to Olivia?

Her thoughts raced. Why would she lie? Something felt horribly off.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Bette muttered, her mind moving faster than she could keep up. The realisation hit her like a lightning bolt. She glanced at Olivia, her eyes narrowing slightly as suspicion crawled up her spine. Olivia was oblivious to her gaze, but the pieces were falling into place. Bette stood up slowly, as close to naturally as she could manage.

“Going for a coffee. You want one?” she asked, her voice deceptively calm.

“Refill, please,” Olivia said, lifting her mug to Bette without looking away from the screen. “Thank you, love you, et cetera.”

Bette took the mug, her hands working on autopilot as she moved through the bullpen. Once out of Olivia’s sight, she bypassed the coffee room and quickened her pace toward the stairwell, her heart pounding in her ears. As soon as she hit the stairs she thundered down them, her mind a frenzy of panic while frantically searching her pocket for her phone. She tried calling Tina again. Voicemail. Her shoes skidded on the linoleum as she rounded the corner to the locker room, and she crossed the space in a few strides. With a clatter, she ripped open her faithfully flimsy locker. Bingo.  

Underneath the photo of her and her old dog Sasha, the corner of a page poked out in invitation. Bette tugged it down and found a folded piece of paper tacked to the back, along with an envelope containing something sturdy. She shook the paper open with one hand while the other held her phone to her ear, trying Tina’s cell once more. 

Her eyes scanned quickly, not really registering what she was seeing until she saw the header. The original manufacturer’s report for the bullet from Taylor’s autopsy, the 0.40 GuardianPierce. Finally, Bette thought distantly. Blinking, she tried to focus on reading the words in order. The faded text on the report showed that the bullets had still been in circulation in 1994. The year was circled in heavy red ink, and ‘Reincarnation’ scrawled in Tina’s neat print, just next to it. Her mind reeled. 1994. Why is that year ringing a bell? Her thoughts were hazy, disjointed. It felt like she was a puppet, waiting for someone to pull her strings to make her move.

"Reincarnation... Why have you hidden this here for me, Tina?" Bette whispered to herself, puzzled. 

The voicemail echoed in her ear again. No response. Bette cursed, the words spilling out like a stream of working-class prayers as she hit redial and fumbled to open the envelope. Inside, a small stack of photos - grainy, slightly blurry, with time stamps in the corner from the night Taylor had been killed. Bette blinked hard, her vision swimming as she focused on the images.

The first photo: a figure in the driver’s seat of a car. The profile wasn’t clear enough to make out. The second photo: the figure turned slightly, more face-on, staring at something across the street. Bette’s stomach dropped. That brow…

A furrowed brow she knew well. With the sick inevitability of a nightmare, the face coalesced into one she recognised. The third photo showed a different shadowy figure walking across the front of the vehicle. Taylor. And the fourth… It showed Taylor and that same familiar figure, both in the car, pulling away from the curb. A rush of anger briefly blew through the fog of panic in her mind. 

She tried calling Tina again to no avail. She let out another slew of curses as her stomach lurched. Her pulse was racing in time with her rapid steps as she ran out to the parking garage. Tina’s car was gone. Shit. Her breath came in sharp, ragged bursts as she pivoted and sprinted back toward the stairs. She cursed aloud once more as she misjudged the corner, bouncing into the wall. Slowing her pace as she reached the last set of stairs leading out to the bullpen, she cast her eyes around again, this time for Olivia. 

Breathe.

She couldn’t afford to let anyone know what was going on yet. She didn’t want to give the impression that something was amiss. But as she crossed the bullpen, it was clear Olivia was already gone. Bette’s hands balled into fists in frustration, before she swiped a set of keys from the nearest desk and fled back towards the garage. Sometimes, the devil you know could be worse than any trouble you might find elsewhere. 

Chapter Text

Bette pulled to the curb, clipping the concrete with her front wheel. Her pulse hammered in her ears as she spotted Tina’s car parked further down the street, almost hidden - if she hadn’t been looking for it, she would have missed it. Her stomach lurched. Tina was already inside. Yanking out her phone, Bette’s fingers trembled as she typed, Please answer me. Don’t go inside alone. But deep down, she knew it was too late.

She stared at the screen, a sinking feeling building in her chest. What if she had this all wrong? What if everything she believed, every conclusion she’d drawn, had been a mistake? The thought swirled in her mind, choking her as she sat frozen, trying to figure out her next move.

Her phone vibrated suddenly, snapping her out of the trance. For a brief moment, relief washed over her before it quickly vanished again. The name on the screen wasn’t Tina’s.

“Where did you run off to? I came back from the evidence locker and you disappeared! You left the lot door open - Bette, are you okay?” Olivia’s voice was laced with concern, not frustration. Bette pressed her palm against her forehead, torn about whether to explain everything right then and there.

The sound of Olivia tapping her pen against the desk on the other end felt like a ticking clock. Bette had to decide how much to trust her - and fast. She shook herself. This was Olivia. She could trust her. Right?

“Liv,” Bette’s voice came out dry, croaky. The line fell eerily silent. “Something’s going on, and I need you to trust me. It’s going to sound crazy, but… do you trust me?”

A pause, just long enough to raise doubt.

“What are you talking about? Of course I trust you. This isn’t funny Bette, you’re freaking me out.”

Headlights appeared in the distance, and Bette sank low in her seat, barely peeking over the edge of the window as a small car passed. An elderly lady hunched over the wheel, oblivious. Bette’s fingers flexed as she slowly exhaled. She had to make a decision, fast. 

She didn’t have the time to explain everything, but she needed Olivia on her side. Bette shifted in her seat, biting her lip. Now or never.

With Olivia still silent, Bette launched into a quick, compressed version of the events that had led her to this moment, sitting in her car, staring at the looming iron gates across the street. She recounted how the manufacturer’s report on Taylor’s murder weapon had come back - the weapon that had remained in official service circulation until 1994, not 1993 as they had originally thought. The same year Cavanagh was on his second year on the force.

She left the part out about how Tina had coded that message, reincarnation. How the single word, written in Tina’s careful script had taken her back to that night in his study, to Tina’s beautiful face breaking into laughter at Bette’s question about the afterlife. A small, tender moment that had popped into her head as soon as she had said the word aloud. And now, as if the puzzle had shifted into place, Bette realised those empty hooks in Cavanagh’s relic cabinet had held more than just old memorabilia out for cleaning - they had once housed the Colt Sentinel he had kept… and then used.

She pressed on, feeling her stomach sink lower with every word as she mentioned the grainy photographs - Cavanagh behind the wheel, Taylor in the passenger seat on the night of the murder. The lack of evidence at the crime scene. How it all made sense now, so painfully clear, she couldn’t believe she had missed it for so long. There was an edge to the silence on the other end of the line, and Bette braced herself. 

“I don’t - Bette, you better be sure about this. You can’t un-ring this bell,” Olivia said slowly.

“I’m sure, Liv. I wish I wasn’t, but I am.” The defeat and anxiety in Bette’s voice must have been heavy enough for Olivia to hear, because when she replied, her voice was quiet, but urgent on the other end of the line. Detached from the emotional weight of the situation, she spoke professionally, evenly. 

“And now you think Tina’s gone into his house? For what?”

Bette rubbed her face, glancing around outside while aware that every second mattered. “I... I think she’s looking for the money.”

Warren’s words echoed in her mind: Follow the money.

“So what’s your plan here, Porter? Breaking and entering? An unwarranted search? You need to wait - this has to be by the books. If you’re wrong about this -”

“We don’t have time to wait, Liv! If Tina’s inside, she could be in serious danger. If he was willing to kill Taylor, to frame Warren - I’m not wasting another second.”

“But why now? How would he even know she’s figured anything out?” Olivia’s voice trailed off as the same realisation hit her that had struck Bette earlier. “Oh shit. The evidence - the upstream notification.”

“Yep. As her superior, he’d have gotten an alert the second the manufacturer’s report came through to her. If he has seen that...”

Olivia interrupted. “If you’re right about this, even a little bit, and Tina is inside, you need to get her out. Now . Do you want me to send a patrol?”

“God, no. No. That’ll only make things worse. Can you just - give me half an hour?”

“And what am I supposed to do in the meantime, just sit here? I don’t like this—”

“Neither do I, but I’ve got to try. I’ll call you soon.”

“And if you don’t?”

A beat of silence ticked over between them before Bette slid quietly out of the car. “I will.”

Further up the street, tucked among the sedans and family cars, a black SUV sat parked. Bette squinted, straining to see if anyone was inside, but it looked empty. The street was still, as it always was, but tonight the quiet felt menacing. Her boots barely made a sound as she crossed the road, the loudest noise was the thundering of her own pulse.

She shook her hands by her sides, willing herself to stay calm. Even though Cavanagh and Annie were supposed to be at the charity gala, she couldn’t shift the feeling that she was being watched. The lines between instinct and pure paranoia had blurred ever since she left the precinct. The driveway stretched endlessly in front of her, and yet it was empty - a sliver of relief. She had made it. Barely.

Her heart pounded harder as she broke into a semi-sprint, her boots hitting the front steps of the house. A single light glowed faintly in the hall - no doubt Annie’s habit, leaving it on for when they returned later.

Just as her foot landed on the top step, a shadow moved behind the frosted glass. Bette froze. The sudden lump in her throat was hard to swallow. The door swung open, and there he was - Cavanagh, his face unreadable.

“Bette! Do you know what time it is? What are you doing here?”

Her mind flailed for an excuse, any reason to justify showing up this late and unannounced. For a moment, she couldn’t speak. Her mind raced. She forced a smile, trying to mask her panic with feigned helplessness.

“I know. I’m sorry - I didn’t know where else to go,” she offered, her smile tight, praying it covered the desperation clawing at her chest. She fought the urge to look past him, scanning for any sign of Tina.

Cavanagh’s eyes narrowed and he stepped aside, his tone the same as ever. “Come on in, kiddo. What’s up? You need a drink?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Bette replied, her voice steadier than she felt. She had the distinct sensation that she was wading into the ocean, fully aware that a shark lurked just offshore.

As she followed him down the hallway, her eyes darted around, searching for any sign of Tina. The house was eerily quiet, aside from the distant hum of the refrigerator. They reached the kitchen, and Cavanagh motioned for her to sit on one of the breakfast stools. He gestured to the liquor cabinet, but she shook her head, determined to keep her mind clear.

“Coffee please, if it’s not too much trouble.”

The crockery clinked gently as he prepared the drinks, and the only other sound was Bette’s blood shuttling around her body at a pace too rapid for comfort.  

“What’s on your mind, then?” His blue eyes held a look of concern, his expression matching her unease. If he had clocked anything, he wasn’t showing it. It was possible that he hadn’t received the upstream notification about Tina’s evidence yet; maybe there was still time to come up with a better plan.

“I don’t know,” Bette began, trying to keep her tone casual. “This whole situation with Warren has me feeling a bit… unsettled. And after the incident this morning, I just feel - well, scared. I’m really scared of what’s going to happen, and I don’t know how to handle that.”

Cavanagh nodded, placing a steaming cup in front of her. “You know you can call me anytime. You’ve gotta trust your team to investigate this effectively and protect you. They’re your people, and you would do the same for them.”

“Warren didn’t,” she muttered, testing his reaction. She still didn’t dare lift the cup while he was watching, knowing her fingers were still shuddering with adrenaline. 

He shrugged, sighing. “Sometimes, people disappoint us. We might not understand why, but I guess it’s up to us to choose how we want to move on.”

Bette nodded half-heartedly, wrapping her arms around herself. She strained her ears, listening for any sound from deeper within the house while trying to maintain a neutral expression. Maybe she had it all wrong - maybe Tina wasn’t there at all. The thoughts in her head were frayed, a chaotic concoction of anxiety and uncertainty. Her back was to the glass doors leading outside, and a chill ran down her spine as she realised how vulnerable she was. Anyone could be lurking out there, ready for a clear shot at her. She eyed the clock on the oven. The conversation wouldn’t progress until she pushed it forward - so she did.

“What happened today Cav… that was personal. A direct threat. I mean, come on - pigs blood? That was no coincidence.” She didn’t need to feign the shudder that travelled across her shoulders at the memory. 

“No, I don’t think it was a coincidence either. That sounds like Dominic sending you a message. You have to back away from this, kiddo. He’s a nasty piece of work, and it’s not worth the risk.”

Bette’s nerves felt frayed, her mind torn between the conversation and the gnawing fear that Tina was somewhere in the house - restrained, captive, or worse, hurt. She looked up at Cavanagh, studying the face she knew so well. Or she thought she did. It was no mistake that it was his familiar features she had seen in the photograph outside the diner. Of that, she was certain. But as she stared at the man before her, she couldn’t reconcile what she knew of him with the possibility that he could hurt anyone, not intentionally. Still, the unknown grated on her as he turned to prepare his own drink. 

She slipped her phone out, quickly firing off another text to Tina. As Cavanagh continued talking over the noisy coffee machine, Bette half-imagined hearing a ping from somewhere inside the house. Her heart skipped, but she forced herself to stay calm, refusing to let her adrenaline-fueled mind play tricks on her. Across the counter, Cavanagh turned and lifted his cup to his lips, sipping quietly. The house was still, but something hung in the air like a storm about to break. The voice inside her whispered doubts again. What if she had just assumed it was him because it looked a little like him? But no - the manufacturer’s report, the money laundering, the charity accounts - it all pointed to something, and Bette was going to get to the bottom of it. She had to. But first, she and Tina needed to get out of this house in one piece - well, if Tina was even here. Bette’s eyes darted to her phone again, but her messages remained unanswered.

“You know,” Bette began, her voice steady, “we have one of the top case closure rates in the state. Whether it takes months or years, he’ll get caught. And I’ll be front and centre at that trial, making sure he - and everyone in his ring - answers for every crime committed.” She tapped the counter gently with each word, driving the point home. “Every. Single. One.” She stared at him, watching for a reaction. He nodded and ran a finger over his upper lip casually, though Bette knew he was trying to sweep the sweat away before she noticed it. Too late.

After a beat, he exhaled, and reset his face into an expression of concern. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied, forcing a smile, though her pulse hammered in her throat. The silence stretched between them. She sipped her drink, the hot liquid bitter against her tongue. “You didn’t go to the charity gala after all?”

The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them. She’d shown her hand.

His expression darkened. Cavanagh set his cup down on the counter, managing to make it look like a threat. “Why would you come here if you thought I was out?”

Before Bette could scramble for a response, a loud crash echoed from down the hall - a heavy, jarring sound like something heavy hitting the wooden floor and exploding. Cavanagh’s lips parted slightly as they locked eyes, the air between them frozen for a split second. Then, in an instant, they both bolted toward the noise.

Bette’s legs burned as she pushed herself after him, but Cavanagh had the head start. Despite his age, he moved with the speed and fury of a young man. Bette’s heart pounded as she tried to close the gap. Desperate to slow him down, she grabbed the nearest object - a heavy ornament from the hallway table - and recklessly hurled it at his back. The porcelain shattered against the doorframe just as Cavanagh turned the corner. It didn’t stop him.

He disappeared through the doorway at the end of the hall, his wild expression flashing towards her in the dim light as he vanished into the study. Bette’s breath was ragged, but she was only seconds behind. 

Just as she reached the threshold, a figure lunged out from the side, an outstretched palm shooting out to block her path. The impact in the centre of her chest sent her off balance, boots sliding across the floor as she twisted sideways, barely keeping herself from hitting the ground.

Her body tensed to strike back - until she saw Tina.

Relief and confusion hit her like a slap. Tina was standing there, fierce and steady, a determined furrow in her brow. Without a word, Tina reached forward and slammed the study door shut behind Cavanagh, then jammed a small metal key into the lock. The door rattled violently from the inside as Cavanagh tried to wrench it open, but it was too late.

It was over in seconds.

“Tina,” Bette’s voice was  thick and breathless. Tina’s tight smile gave nothing away, her hand still gripping the key. She was unscathed, but Bette’s heart pounded with the weight of everything that could have gone wrong.

“What the hell are you doing here? Why did you come alone - are you insane? Again with the not calling me!” Bette hissed, the words tumbling out in a rush, a mix of fear and frustration. Her eyes darted over Tina, searching for any sign of injury. “Are you hurt?”

Before Tina could answer, the door rattled insistently again. Cavanagh’s voice came from behind it, desperate and pleading.

“Porter, I know what you’re thinking. Whatever you think you know about this, you’re wrong.”

The door rattled violently against its hinges, and both women instinctively stepped back. Cavanagh’s voice came through the wood again, desperate. “Porter, listen to me. You have to believe me!”

Tina pressed her back against the wall, flinching slightly as Cavanagh pounded his fist against the other side. She swept a few loose strands of blonde hair from her forehead, glancing at Bette. “You got my message then?”

Bette nodded, still scanning Tina for any sign of injury, her mind struggling to process everything. “Did you really have to be so cryptic? And how the hell did you get in here?”

“I’m going to do us both a favour and not answer that right now,” Tina replied with a wry smile. They both knew that if she admitted to breaking and entering, any evidence she found would be inadmissible in court.

“It’s not what you think, Bette,” Cavanagh’s voice broke through again, pleading. “Please, you have to believe me. I can give him to you, but you need to listen! I will give you Dominic!”

Bette’s chest still ached from where Tina had shoved her earlier, and she rubbed it absentmindedly. “That crash - what happened?”

Tina grimaced and shrugged “I could hear you baiting him. If he turned on you, you wouldn’t stand a chance. He’s bigger than you, Porter. I had to do something.”

The banging on the study door continued, the sound relentless although Cavanagh’s energy seemed to be fading.

Bette scoffed. “I wasn’t baiting him.”

“You were -”

“I was giving him an opening.”

“Yeah, with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer,” Tina muttered, breaking into a brief, exasperated smile. “Do you think that vase in there was expensive?”

Bette returned the smile for a fleeting moment, relieved Tina was unharmed, but her focus snapped back to the door. Cavanagh’s voice had grown weaker, less forceful, but the persistent slaps of his hand against the door still echoed in the hall. 

“Jesus,” Bette breathed, her voice thick with emotion. She took a step forward, her hands trembling as she reached out instinctively. Tina turned, her guarded stance softening the moment she met Bette’s eyes. Without a second of hesitation, Bette closed the distance between them, and Tina’s arms wrapped around her tightly.

Bette sank into her, feeling the warmth and steadiness of Tina’s body against her own. Her hands gripped the back of Tina’s jacket, as though letting go might pull them apart again.

“I thought -” Bette’s voice cracked as she buried her face in Tina’s shoulder. “I thought you were hurt.”

Tina’s hand cradled the back of Bette’s head, her breath warm against her ear. “I’m okay. I’m fine.”

For a moment, Bette allowed herself to just feel - Tina’s heartbeat steady beneath her cheek, and the relief that flooded through her, the weight of all her fears momentarily lifted. Tina planted a soft kiss on Bette’s cheekbone and pulled back slightly, her expression turning serious.

“I’m sorry,” Tina began, her eyes flickering intensely. “I didn’t mean for this to go sour. I didn’t think he’d come home.”

Bette blinked, still trying to make sense of everything. “Just - why did you come alone? What were you thinking?”

Tina exhaled, her eyes scanning Bette’s face. “As soon as I got that manufacturer’s report, I knew he’d realise he was exposed. I didn’t have time to wait. I thought...well, I thought the cash for the next drop must be here. And if I could get here first, find the cash or any other evidence before he came back to cover his tracks, we might have a shot. But I couldn’t call you.”

Bette’s brows furrowed. “Why not?”

“I wasn’t sure who I could trust - I wasn’t alone at the precinct.” Tina’s voice lowered, but her eyes remained sharp, focused. “And call me paranoid, but after everything that’s happened it wouldn’t be too far-fetched if your phone was tapped. I couldn’t risk tipping anyone off or putting you in danger.”

Bette stared at her, a spark of admiration mixing with the relief that still overwhelmed her. Tina had acted quickly, logically - as always, strong and resolute in a crisis. And, to Bette’s surprise,  impulsive. 

“I didn’t think he’d come home this early,” Tina repeated. “I thought I’d have more time. I was just going to find the bag and get out, but then...”

“Then it all went sideways,” Bette finished for her, nodding. “Maybe a little of my recklessness is finally rubbing off on you.”

Tina flashed a grin. “Not likely, Porter. But I couldn’t sit back and do nothing while we still had a chance to get something. I had to move fast. I couldn’t risk waiting for backup.”

“You should’ve told me,” Bette said, her voice softening, though she couldn’t hide the frustration.

“I know,” Tina admitted. “But I knew if I called you, you’d try to stop me.”

Bette let out a dry, exasperated laugh. “You’re damn right I would’ve.”

Their foreheads touched briefly, a quiet, intimate moment in the middle of the chaos. It was a strange thing, to worry about someone like this. Of course, Bette had always been protective of her colleagues, always tried to keep them - and herself - out of harm’s way. But this was different. Those dark moments earlier, when blind panic had gripped her at the thought of Tina being hurt, or worse, were unlike anything she’d ever felt before. She never wanted to feel that again; that raw, helpless fear that came with the thought of losing her. It wasn’t just being protective - it was personal, deeper than she’d allowed herself to admit until now. 

But the thought of how it had all happened twisted inside her, tightening like a vice. Tina had been put in danger because of him - because of Cavanagh’s lies and betrayal. The man she had trusted, looked up to, those actions had forced Tina into a corner, into a position where she had no choice but to take risks. Without warning, Bette’s temper flared, her blood boiling to the point where she was sure it had raised the temperature around them. Rage surged through her, fueled by the betrayal, by the thought that someone she trusted had endangered Tina, had made her feel like she couldn’t reach out for help. She battled with herself: whether to call in the cavalry or give Cavanagh a chance to explain. Possibly against her better judgement, she decided on the latter.

“Give me that key.”

Bette held out her hand, but Tina hesitated, concern crossing her features. “Bette, you’re shaking.”

“Because I am fucking furious,” Bette snapped, before steadying herself. “Give me the key, please.”

Reluctantly, Tina handed it over. Bette’s grip tightened around the cold metal, her knuckles white as she stepped closer to the door. “Just so you know,” she called out, “Tina’s got her finger hovering over the dial for dispatch. If you try anything, they’ll be here in minutes.”

“I have nothing to try,” Cavanagh’s voice sounded further away, muffled by the door. “I have nothing left. Please, kiddo. Just - hear me out. If you’re not satisfied after that, I’ll call it in myself.”

Bette’s breath caught. Her mind was a tornado of anger, confusion, and, against her will, a sliver of curiosity. She turned the key in the lock, then stepped back, pressing herself against the wall, out of the line of fire. She took a quick peek inside.

Cavanagh was slumped in the armchair, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He looked broken, smaller somehow now. The room was dimly lit, and more or less unchanged since the last time she’d been there, aside from the oversized vase that Tina had knocked over. Tina took a few cautious steps toward him, but Bette blew past her in a stomping fury. 

“You asshole!” Bette’s voice came out low, seething with fury. She stormed across the room, stopping inches from him. “All this time, it was you? You were dirty, and we’ve been tearing ourselves apart chasing dead leads that you fed us-”

“Not dirty, Bette, I swear,” Cavanagh looked up, raising his hands, tears shimmering in his eyes. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“How long?” Bette asked, her voice tight with betrayal. She crossed her arms, trying to stop herself from falling apart. “And don’t you dare lie to me.”

“Long enough that you wouldn’t have even noticed when it started,” Cavanagh whispered, his voice trembling. “He’s been threatening me for years. Threatening Annie. Coercing me.”

Bette shot a glance at Tina, who lingered by the door, protective but observant. “So all those times we didn’t have enough on Dominic...”

Cavanagh scrubbed a hand over his face, shaking his head in shame. Bristling in his silence, Bette’s anger surged again. “You tried to get me off this case before I even started working it! You didn't care about me - you just wanted me as far away from it as possible!”

He nodded, voice thick with regret. “I didn’t want you involved. You’re too smart for this mess.”

“And that’s why you wanted Tina on the case? Because you thought nobody would believe her about a corrupt cop, given her history?” Bette’s world felt like it was tilting. She’d trusted him, since before she knew the meaning of the word. “Did you - did you kill Taylor?” Her voice cracked, horrified to finally speak the question aloud. Cavanagh looked at her, his face crumpling.

“He wanted more money,” Cavanagh confessed, barely audible. “He was a liability to Dominic, and threatened to expose my supposed involvement. He was playing both sides, looking for the highest bidder. I was backed into a corner.”

Bette’s mind reeled, the image of Taylor’s lifeless body flashing in her mind. She couldn’t reconcile the cold murder with the man in front of her. “But why?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“I haven’t slept since,” Cavanagh admitted, his voice raw as he looked distant. “It was going to be me or Dominic, and if Dominic had done it, Taylor would have suffered. Dominic plays with his food.”

Tina scoffed, her gaze never leaving Cavanagh. “You paid off that witness,” she said quietly, piecing it together. “And when we got suspicious after the initial ballistics, you framed Warren.”

“I didn’t want to,” Cavanagh’s voice broke. Bette felt a small surge of sympathy for him and she crushed it immediately. “That was the worst night of my life. Dominic sent me a picture of Annie at dinner, that same night. He told me to handle it by midnight, or she’d come home in a body bag.” He took a shuddering breath. “So I followed Taylor that night. I was outside the diner, and I guess I was going to tell him I would meet his demands - tell him to come out to the car, that I’d take his deal. Show him a wad of cash, ask him to take me back to his place to count it out, work out the details of the agreement… I was waiting in my car for so long, just wondering if I should just throw myself off a bridge instead. And then Warren walked into that same diner.”

Bette and Tina exchanged a glance before returning their attention to Cavanagh. 

“You must have figured it out by now,” he continued. “Warren was working for IAB, trying to root out the mole. He probably had some of the pieces, but not the whole puzzle. He was there to bring Taylor in, I’m sure of it - but Taylor never snitched unless he got paid. So when Warren showed up, I saw an opportunity.”

“So you killed him,” Bette whispered. “Then you planted the evidence in Warren’s car after your party.”

A tear slipped down Cavanagh’s cheek as he nodded. Bette’s mind raced - images of the pawn shop, Hamilton, the financial records - all of it snapped into focus. She swore under her breath.

“The pawn shop,” Bette said, her voice tight with disbelief. “You’re the stolen goods guy. The cash.”

Cavanagh nodded, his expression one of bitter resignation. “Like I said, you’re a smart girl. My best detective, just like I knew you always would be.”

Bette felt like the ground was moving beneath her. She had looked up to this man for almost her entire professional life. Now she didn’t know if she could believe anything he said. But one thing was clear - she couldn’t let him walk away from this.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bette pleaded, her voice thick with a mixture of anger and sadness. “I could have helped you. I could have -”

“What, Bette?” Cavanagh interrupted, desperation rising in his voice. “Stopped him from hurting Annie? Stopped him from destroying my reputation, the integrity of our team? Imagine the fallout if this got out. It would ruin everyone who ever worked with me. I couldn’t do that to you, to any of the guys at the precinct. He had me tied up six ways to Sunday, and he knew it. Believe me, I’ve looked at every angle on this for a long time. There was no way out.”

Bette’s palms were slick with sweat, her heart hammering. Everything was falling apart around her, and she felt like she was drowning while Tina’s voice cut through the chaos, calm and commanding. “You said you could give him to us. Tell us the plan, and we don’t make this call. Yet.”

She waved her phone, finger hovering over the dial button for dispatch. Cavanagh’s eyes flicked from the phone to Bette’s face, searching for a shred of hope.

“I can’t do this alone,” he whispered, desperation creeping into every word. “Please, Bette. Tina. Help me bring him down. I’ll tell you everything.”

Bette’s mind was still reeling, but one thing was certain - this wasn’t over. Whatever Cavanagh had planned, she needed to be ready. For now, she’d hear him out.

The car was silent, the tension so thick that it felt like another passenger. Bette gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white, trying to focus on the road ahead as her mind raced with a thousand thoughts. Cavanagh sat in the passenger seat beside her, his feet braced around a leather hold-all full of neatly bundled notes. His expression was unreadable, while Tina sat in the back, her eyes fixed on the passing city lights as they headed toward the docks.

"Call him," Bette said, her voice tight, eyes still on the road.

Cavanagh hesitated for a moment, then pulled out his phone. “I will. Just... give me a second.”

Bette caught Tina’s gaze in the rear-view mirror. Caution, concern, maybe doubt - either way, Tina’s eyes mirrored the same unease Bette felt creeping into her bones. Ambushing Dominic at a cash drop had seemed like the right move when Cavanagh suggested it back at the house. But now, as they rolled down the dark, empty road, Bette wondered if adrenaline had clouded her judgement.

The phone rang once, twice, then clicked as the call connected.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Cavanagh said, his tone casual. “Running a few minutes late. Got held up at home.” There was a pause, followed by a low murmur on the other end. Cavanagh glanced at Bette, then back to the road. “No problem. I’ll be there in five.”

He slipped the phone back into his pocket, the silence in the car returning, heavy and oppressive.

“Everything good?” Tina asked, her voice commanding, but Bette could hear the tension laced beneath it.

“He’ll be there,” Cavanagh replied, staring ahead.

Bette didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. Her stomach churned, knotted with anxiety. This felt wrong. All of it. But what choice did they have? Cavanagh had said this was where Dominic would meet him for the cash exchange, that Dominic always came alone or with one of his muscled-up thugs. This was their best shot at catching him in the act.

The docks loomed ahead, dim lights casting eerie shadows over the water. Bette pulled into a secluded spot out of sight. She cut the engine, and the three of them sat in the darkness, the weight of the moment pressing down on them.

Cavanagh glanced out at the water lapping lazily against the pier. He exhaled slowly, then turned to face Bette. “This is it,” he said quietly. “I go out there, hand over the money, and you nail him red-handed.”

Bette nodded, her eyes hardening. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

A bitter smile tugged at Cavanagh’s lips. “You know me better than that.”

Without another word, he stepped out of the car, his silhouette blurred against the dim dockyard lights. Bette and Tina watched as he approached the lockers, his movements slow and cautious, as if he knew something was waiting in the shadows to pounce.

“As soon as Dominic picks up that bag, we move in,” Bette said, her voice low but firm. The reassurance of having a plan comforted her. They had a plan, and if they stuck to it, they might come away with something. She pulled her service weapon from the glovebox, shoving it into the back of her trousers, although the comforting weight of the gun felt more like a burden now.

The seconds ticked by, each one stretching endlessly. Bette’s grip tightened on the door handle, her eyes fixed on Cavanagh, barely daring to blink in case she missed anything. 

Tina leaned forward and her whisper cut through the silence. “If Cavanagh had to call and say he was running late, shouldn’t Dominic already be here?”

Bette chewed her lip. She scanned the area, her eyes darting from shadow to shadow. The docks were quiet. Too quiet.

Then came a sudden, sharp rap on the driver’s side window, and Bette’s heart leaped into her throat as she turned. A gun barrel was staring her down, and behind it, Dominic’s cold eyes glared with a mix of amusement and menace.

“Evening, ladies,” he drawled, his voice muffled through the glass.

Bette’s breath caught, her pulse pounding in her ears. There was no time to react. The rear door swung open, and a hulking man with a deep scar across his cheek yanked Tina from the car as if she weighed nothing. She scrambled on the ground but quickly righted herself, her hands raised in surrender.

In that instant, Bette realised they had been set up. Her heart felt numb as she slowly opened her door, keeping her hands visible, her legs feeling like lead. Dominic stepped back, his gun still trained on her, a smug smile curling on his lips.

“Move,” he commanded, gesturing toward Tina. His thug stepped forward, snatching Bette’s weapon from her waistband before she could react. Shit. 

“Anything else on you, officer?” Dominic mused, waving the gun at her.

Bette’s head spun, her instincts screaming at her to act, but she was frozen. She didn’t dare look at Tina - any sign of coordination between them could set Dominic off. Her eyes flicked across the docks to Cavanagh, who stood by the lockers, the leather bag at his feet. His face was unreadable, but the miserable look in his eyes betrayed him.

“And to think,” Dominic leered, stepping closer, “you came so close.” His cologne was making Bette nauseated, the adrenaline heightening her senses and amplifying the scent. “You’ve been a little thorn in my side for too long, and now it’s time to pull it out.”

Bette’s breath came in shallow, quiet gasps. Her pulse raced as her eyes flicked to Tina, who stood pale but composed, though the slight tremble in her raised hands gave away her fear. They were outnumbered, outgunned, and they had walked straight into a trap.

“Cav!” Bette bellowed, her voice thick with desperation. “What the hell are you doing?”

Cavanagh’s eyes met hers, but he didn’t respond. His shoulders slumped under the weight of his betrayal. Bette’s heart sank, the cold reality settling in.

She opened her mouth to call out again, but her cry was cut short by the sharp crack of metal against bone as Dominic struck her with the butt of his gun, sending a blinding jolt of pain through her cheek. The impact reverberated through her head, a white-hot pain spreading across her jawline and the side of her face. Her vision blurred as lights flickered at the edges of her sight, and she staggered back, unsteady on her feet. 

Instinctively, Tina moved toward her, but the weapon flashed again in Dominic’s hand, stopping her in her tracks. Her eyes flicked between Bette and the gun, torn between wanting to help and knowing any wrong move could cost them both.

They were herded down the pier, the gently rhythmic sound of the waves against the pilings sounding sinister beneath them. The air was sharp with the smell of salt, the dampness clinging to their skin. Dominic’s thug prodded them forward, and Bette winced as pain shot through her cheek from the earlier blow. Each step felt like she was growing smaller and smaller, her options dwindling from few to nil. 

Dominic strolled ahead of them, his gun loosely by his side, his casual movements making a mockery of the situation. Bette tried to think of an exit route, anything - but her thoughts were marred by the throbbing pain in her cheek and the sheer terror in her veins. She glanced at Tina, whose face was set in a hard line, determined not to show any signs of fear. Despite everything, Tina’s defiance was still there, simmering just below the surface.

At the edge of the pier, Dominic paused, pulling out a coil of rope from his jacket with slow, deliberate movements. His thug mirrored him, producing another rope from his belt. Bette’s stomach twisted as the realisation of what they were planning sank in. She swallowed, trying to shift the saliva that had suddenly gathered in her throat. 

Dominic turned, a smirk playing at his lips. “Do you know why they call this place Riverbank?” he asked lightly, almost conversational.

Neither Bette nor Tina responded, but Dominic seemed to enjoy the moment anyway. “Funny name for a place that opens onto the sea, don’t you think?” He chuckled, as though he were sharing a casual anecdote. “ The river that runs through the city is man-made, did you know that? They celebrated what someone came in and decided everyone needed, instead of focusing on what was already here. Ironic, no? But, all the same, the name stuck. People don’t care about details, though. They rarely do.”

He tugged the rope taut in his hands. “The river might move things down its path, onto a new destination. But the sea? No, the sea swallows things up. Like they were never here at all.”

His thug stepped forward, looping the rope around Tina’s wrists with cold precision. Tina stood rigid, her jaw clenched, eyes flicking to Bette. Not without a fight.

As the thug bent to secure the knot, Tina moved. With lightning speed, her head snapped forward, a sickening crack as her forehead met his face with force. The thug reeled back with a grunt of pain, blood pouring from his nose as he cursed with rage.

“Shit!” Dominic hissed, his gun jerking up.

Bette reacted on instinct. With her wrists bound beneath the rope, she swung her leg out, aiming for Dominic's knee. Her boot connected, but the angle was slightly off, glancing it more than landing with full force. Still, it was enough to make him stagger back, his face twisting in a brief grimace. But before she could press the advantage, he swung his arm and a second blow landed - this time to the other side of her head. The butt of Dominic’s gun smashed into her temple with unforgiving force, far worse than the first. Pain exploded through her skull, searing and sharp. The world spun violently, and she retched.

Her legs buckled, and she crumpled onto her side on the wooden pier, gasping for breath. The pain roared through her skull. She tried to steady herself, but her vision blurred and darkened, flickering out of focus. Through the haze, she barely registered Tina shouting her name - muffled and distant, swallowed by the howling tide in her ears.

Horses. The pier vibrated, resonating with the relentless, heavy rhythm of hooves striking the wood. She blinked hard, desperate to sharpen her focus, to see the black horses, but her eyes refused to cooperate. Flashes of light exploded at the edges of her vision - bright blue and blinding white, chaotic bursts like strobe lights in a club. She tried to latch onto the heavy bass lines, the thrum of music vibrating through her chest, grasping at snippets of energetic conversation from the shadows of people dancing around her while she lay on the ground. 

Not the ground. The pier.

The thought tugged at the back of her mind, quiet but insistent. She was at the pier with… someone. A date? Bette’s vision swam while she tried to grasp the thread of that thought. The world tilted dangerously, and the ground beckoned her to stay down. The boundaries of reality felt elastic, stretching until she couldn’t tell if she was upright or sprawled out on the floor. Were the voices calling her name coming from the pain in her skull, or from somewhere further away? Something wet had trickled into her eye, and she squeezed it shut while she gave herself a moment to think, to let the noise in her head go quiet. The piercing noise of her reality dulled, and she slipped into the darkness. 

Chapter Text

Bette floated toward consciousness, her eyelids heavy. The soft hum of machinery mixed with the sharp scent of disinfectant made her senses swim as she blinked thickly. The dull ache at her temple pulsed with every beat of her heart. As she blinked once more, blurry shapes came into focus. The sterile white sheets, the IV in her arm. A familiar face emerged into view, Tina, perched on the bed next to her. Bette felt sluggish, a goofy grin spreading across her face. She must have been given some really strong painkillers, because until she blinked a few more times, Tina looked like an angel bathed in soft light.

Her hand instinctively reached for the tender lump at her temple, brushing against bandages and dried blood. Tina reached out, gently pulling her hand down, but she didn’t let go. She looked mostly unscathed, save for a bruise forming above her eyebrow.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Tina said with a soft smile. 

“Have I really been out that long?” Bette mumbled, confused.

“No,” Tina replied with a quiet laugh, her eyes intense. “But you took quite a knock to the head - well, two, really. That second one was a doozy. And you were, um… somewhat non-compliant when they tried to get you into the ambulance. So you’ve had a mild sedative, which apparently, you’re quite sensitive to. You’ve been snoring like a bull.”

“Oh god,” Bette smiled sheepishly. “I have not.”

Tina grimaced playfully. “The nurses said they’d never heard anything like it. And the officer stationed outside your room asked if he could sit further away because it was so loud.”

A dimple appeared near Tina’s chin, and Bette scanned her face carefully.

“You’re lying,” Bette replied with a weak smile, closing her eyes again.

“How can you tell?” Tina chuckled. She stroked the back of Bette’s hand with her thumb.

“I can see it on your face. The dimple. Dead giveaway.” She attempted to sit up but winced at the pain radiating from her head. “And besides, I don’t snore.”

“Of course you don’t, baby.”

Bette's eyes flickered open, warmth pooling in her stomach at the term of endearment, but the affection was momentarily overshadowed by the absence of the telltale dimple.

“I can’t believe the first thing you tell me when I come back around is that I snore,” she said, a little of disbelief in her voice.

“Well, I’ve been meaning to say something sooner, but -”

“Shut up,” Bette chuckled, wincing at the ache in her head. Her throat felt like it was full of sand. Tina released Bette’s hand and stroked her leg affectionately through the crisp hospital blanket.

Bette tried to reach up and feel her head again, but Tina gently swiped her hand away.

“Don’t touch it.” she said firmly.

“Can I see it, then?” 

“I wouldn’t recommend it. They didn’t do a great job cleaning you up. You earned yourself seven whole stitches.” She smiled as Bette groaned, imagining her reflection and feeling the tight skin where the blood had dried. Tina gave her leg a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll help you with it before we leave.”

Bette closed her eyes. “God, I was so worried about you.”

“Me? You’re the one sitting here looking like you’ve been in a tumble dryer with a few bricks.”

They both chuckled and Bette blinked, willing herself to stay awake. Feeling slightly more present, she accepted the water Tina offered her and took a sip. The cool liquid was refreshing, quenching her thirst.

“So, what happened?” she asked, trying to piece together the night’s events.

“Well, the cavalry showed up. A little late, but they made it. I didn’t get the whole story, as soon as they saw this, they bundled me up in the back of an ambulance before I could speak to anyone properly,” she explained, gesturing to her forehead. “But I saw it. He didn’t get away,”

“He didn’t get… what?” Beyond exchanging basic conversation, Bette’s critical thinking skills seemed to have been dampened. She squinted as she tried to piece her thoughts together. “You know, for a minute there I really thought - well, I thought Cav was going to stand there and let it happen. Is he … did they arrest him?”

“They did.” Tina replied softly. “They had to. Liv reported it to IAB, after she called through a patrol for you -”

“Shit,” Bette interrupted and winced, the memory of her call to Olivia feeling like an age ago. “I never called her back. She must have been so worried,”

Tears pricked at the corners of Bette’s eyes, but she blamed it on exhaustion and the sedative. Amongst everything, she felt a white-hot flash of annoyance, of pure bitterness: that after everything, she didn't get to see Dominic arrested with her own eyes. She had wanted to be the one to finally cuff him, read him his rights and shove him into the back seat on a one-way trip to custody. Tina hushed her, leaning forward to kiss her tenderly on the unbruised side of her face. Their quiet moment was interrupted by the soft creak of a door outside. Bette heard heavy footsteps approaching - the unmistakable sound of boots, familiar and purposeful. She didn’t even have to look up to know who it was.

Olivia appeared in the doorway, framed by the harsh hospital lights, her tactical gear still strapped tight across her chest. She stood with her arms crossed, her stance protective, as if she were still on duty.

“You look like shit,” she said bluntly, her expression stern.

Bette glanced up, a weak smile tugging at her mouth. “Why, what’s wrong?”

Olivia’s tough exterior cracked as a small laugh bubbled out, but her eyes glistened. She crossed the room to stand at Bette’s bedside, poking her shoulder lightly. “When are you going to learn to stay out of trouble?”

“Honestly, Liv, this is it. I want desk duty after tonight. I might even retire.”

Olivia and Tina exchanged glances and chuckled, both knowing Bette would never stay away from the job. Tina tilted her head up to Olivia questioningly, taking in her tired expression. 

“Have you just finished up at the scene?” 

“Yeah. It was mostly just keeping the gawkers out for the last hour while forensics did their thing,”

She leaned forward and inspected Bette’s face with a raised brow. “Wow, he really did a number on you, didn’t he?”

Bette’s mind flickered, trying to call back the moments that lead up to her losing consciousness. The outline of Cavanagh’s broad figure standing alone at the lockers, the sullen look in his eyes. “Did Cav call you? To help us?”

Exchanging a glance with Tina, Olivia shook her head. “I freaked out a little when I didn’t hear from you again. I dispatched you a patrol, and as soon as I hung up from speaking to Internal Affairs, Warren of all people was calling me on the other line. Did you know he was working with them? He was never the rat; they were still chasing the real one. Oh god, you have a lot to catch up on. Anyway, they had a sting planned for Dominic last night. They got a last-minute tip about the cash drop, and when they got there, Warren recognised your car and tried to call you - but you didn’t answer, so he called me.” 

Blinking, Bette tried to digest the onslaught of information, but it all felt too much. The past 24 hours had felt somewhere between a nightmare and a combination of all of her fears being born into existence. Tina’s bottom lip found its way in between her teeth, and her eyes narrowed. She’s thinking again, Bette thought hazily. 

Tina’s lips parted, and she tilted her head back up to Olivia. “Did they track down the source? The tip off?” 

“Not as far as I know,” Olivia grimaced. 

“Interesting,”

The three detectives sat in contemplation, each arriving to the same conclusion in their own time: it must have been Cavanagh that called the tip in. A three-way solution to safeguard Dominic’s arrest, Bette and Tina’s safety, and his own quiet and willing surrender. Bette tried to wade through the fog of sedatives and pain to remember a moment last night when he wasn’t being watched by them. She tried to piece together the signs she’d missed, but the weight of the truth pressed on her chest. There was nothing to be done now - the result was the same. Still, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

Olivia nudged the wheels of the bed with her boot, flicking her long box braids over her shoulder. “Annie is at the precinct giving a statement,” she said.

“Now? Someone needs to go and be there with her -”

Tina gave a dry laugh. “You are not going anywhere-”

Bette threw the blanket off her knees in protest. “I have to!”

“Absolutely not. You have a concussion. You’ve literally been sedated.”

“But -” 

Olivia’s hand landed on her shoulder keeping her in the bed, and Bette shrugged it off irritably. “I’ll go,” 

“Then I’ll come with you,” Bette started to throw her legs over the side of the bed to sit up, but a torrent of dizziness and nausea swept over her. Her vision blurred. 

“Don’t piss me off,” Olivia smiled, but her expression was stern. “Please.”

Admitting defeat, Bette slumped painfully back into the pillows. She glowered while Tina shook her head at the sour expression on her face. Olivia gave her hand a squeeze before she left, promising to call Bette once she had been to see Annie. Shuffling in the sheets, Bette felt a heaviness pulling at her once more. She fought to keep her eyes open, to look back at Tina who was watching her closely. 

“You can sleep, you know. I’m not going anywhere,”

“I can’t sleep. My head is too busy and also I feel disgusting,” She gestured towards her head first, caked in what she hoped was only dried blood, then to her body. Underneath the hospital gown, she could feel the tackiness of her skin, remnants of sweat and the salty sea air. Her wide yawn betrayed her. “Aren’t you tired?”

“Exhausted, actually. Shame they don’t make those beds a bit wider,”

Despite her protests, Bette’s eyes drooped. “You could squeeze in,”

Tina slid into the armchair by the bed, kicked her shoes off and rested her feet on top of the blankets, nestling them in against Bette’s thigh. She tipped her head back and settled into the chair cushions “I’m fine just here,”

Reaching down, Bette wrapped her hand around the top of Tina’s foot and stroked it gently with her thumb through the fabric of her sock. That small amount of physical contact comforted her, just to stay connected to Tina in some way, to feel anchored in the reality of something good, of someone pure. Tina’s eyes were closed but she smiled. 

“Tina?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for being here,”

“I’m just glad you’re okay. Get some rest, the nurses will be coming in to poke and prod you soon.”

A few moments passed, and Bette felt the pull of sleep. Her eyes closed and she sank into the pillows, her fingers still wrapped affectionately around Tina’s foot. 

“Tina?” she whispered again. She glanced sideways, seeing Tina’s face rested in the half-pout that she wore to sleep. 

“Mmm?”

“Are those… have you been wearing these socks all day?”

Tina chuckled, eyes still closed. She flexed her feet and nodded. “Yep.”

Bette closed her eyes and smiled. She squeezed the foot beneath her hand, but didn’t let go. Her voice was thick as she was pulled into a deep sleep. “Gross.”

Chapter Text

Three weeks later...

They finished arranging the last few cushions on Tina’s new navy blue sofa, stepping back to admire their handiwork. Without a word, they both flopped down into the soft cushions. Bette landed beside Tina, their shoulders brushing as they nodded in mutual approval, satisfied smiles spreading across their faces. Tina reached over and gently tucked a loose strand of Bette’s hair behind her ear, careful to avoid the small dressing still covering the injury on her temple. Two tiny strips of adhesive remained from the wound, the once swollen purple bruise now faded to a dull greenish-brown. Bette caught Tina’s hand, bringing it to her lips and pressing a soft kiss into her palm, inhaling the familiar scent of her skin.

“How do you want to christen your new sofa?” Bette murmured, grinning. “Movie night?”

“Not exactly what I had in mind,” Tina teased, her eyes sparkling as Bette gave her a playful nudge. “I'm kidding, that sounds perfect.”

A comfortable silence settled between them, but it didn’t last long before Bette’s phone vibrated on the coffee table. She glanced at the message from Olivia and sighed, putting the phone back down without opening it.

“Still nothing from Annie?” Tina asked softly.

Bette shook her head, a resigned frown tugging at her lips. “No. Nothing since her last message. She’s carrying so much guilt, and it wasn’t her fault. None of it was.”

“She’ll reach out when she’s ready,” Tina said, giving Bette’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

Bette nodded, though the worry in her eyes lingered. “I hope so. I just don’t want her to feel like she’s alone in all of this.”

“Maybe you could invite her over for dinner, or something?” Tina suggested. Bette sighed heavily and shrugged. 

“Yeah, maybe I could try again.”

Tina’s touch was comforting, but the heaviness of the conversation hung between them. Bette shifted her thoughts to her imminent return to work, something that felt both daunting and necessary. She had spent a few of those initial days committed to swearing off detective work, convinced that she’d leave it all behind. But as the days had stretched on and her injuries healed, boredom had settled in. Her visitors had been constant - Olivia, Myers, and other colleagues dropping by, a revolving door of familiar faces. Even her father had managed to call, though their conversation had been more fraught with his disapproval rather than concern. Still, she appreciated it all the same.

“You know, in that hospital bed, I was convinced I’d give it all up,” Bette mused. “Swore I’d never put myself back into the thick of it. But now, all I can think about is getting back. It won’t be the same, of course, but… I miss it. I just want things to feel normal again. Whatever that means, now.”

Tina nodded thoughtfully. “A new normal without Cavanagh.”

Bette exhaled, the sting of his betrayal still sharp. “Yeah. His arrest wasn’t the dramatic takedown I imagined. I mean like Olivia said, he just… gave up. Broken. He’s still insisting that Dominic coerced him. Maybe he’s telling the truth.”

No one was entirely good or evil, Bette knew that much. Cavanagh had committed unforgivable acts, but despite everything, she couldn’t bring herself to believe he would ever intentionally hurt Annie like this, or damage the charity that meant so much to her. Annie, of course, was shattered. Bette winced at the memory of the call she had missed while she slept soundly in her hospital bed - Annie had tried to reach her after Myers had shown up at her door, his usual gentle-giant presence bearing the weight of bad news. He’d delivered the blow with care, ushering Annie into the precinct to give her statement. Bette could only imagine the devastation Annie must have felt. As detectives, Bette and the others could compartmentalise the events - analyse, make sense of it in a different way. But when it was someone you loved? That was different. Unbearable.

For now, Cavanagh sat in custody, awaiting trial for Taylor’s murder. The corruption charges would take longer to build, and it would be months before they sifted through all the evidence. But the damage had already been done, and Annie was amongst those left to pick up the pieces. Despite everything, part of Bette still mourned the mentor she’d once known. Dominic, on the other hand, wasn’t going quietly. He had hired an expensive legal team and was being predictably uncooperative at every turn. Still, the fact that he was finally behind bars, answering for his crimes, brought a certain grim satisfaction. It wasn’t complete justice, but it was something - a small victory for everyone Dominic had hurt.

“It will all come out eventually. He has no reason to lie anymore, if you think of it that way. But I know the lies that he told makes it hard to believe anything he comes out with now. All you have to do is focus on what’s in front of you.”

Bette smiled weakly, and reached out to swipe Tina’s chin with her thumb affectionately. “What’s in front of us,”

“Exactly,” Tina smiled, and kissed her palm. “Any nerves about tomorrow?”

Bette gave it some thought. “A little. I guess I’m happy to be going back after the dust has settled. I don’t think I could have coped with all the questions and gossip when it was fresh.”

Tina stretched and grinned knowingly. “Well, the gossip train doesn’t wait for anyone, trust me. It’s already started to move on.”

“Oh?” Bette raised an eyebrow.

“Mm-hmm,” Tina smirked. “Something about - oh god, what is her name? That young  evidence room assistant, really pretty, with the huge …”

“Hair?” Bette offered, and they both laughed. 

“Yeah, let’s go with hair. Apparently she’s been getting around with Jackson.” Tina said smugly. 

Bette gave a low whistle. “Look at you, from office outcast to gossip queen in under three months. Ow!” Bette yelped as Tina gave her a playful shove. “Hey, I’m injured! You just assaulted a fragile person - ouch!”

They tumbled into giggles, Bette trying to fend off Tina’s teasing pokes to her ribs until they both collapsed onto the sofa, breathless and laughing. Tina propped herself up on her elbows, leaning over to pepper kisses on Bette’s cheeks, and Bette stared up at her, lost in the wake of her smile.

“You sure you’re ready to go back?” Tina asked softly for what felt like the hundredth time, and Bette nodded. 

“Yeah. Cleared by psych, grateful for the break… but I’m bored now. Not with you,” she added with a grin, earning a raised eyebrow from Tina. She kissed her nose before threading their fingers together. “I need a problem to solve.”

“Good,” Tina whispered. “Well, how about you solve which movie we’re going to watch while I make us a drink?”

With a final playful kiss, Tina got up and poured their drinks before taking the empty wine bottle to the recycling. Bette grabbed the remote and began flicking through movie options, squinting at the unfamiliar buttons on the fancy TV. She stretched, feeling contentment ease over her. The bruises and scars, both physical and emotional, would fade in time. Cavanagh’s betrayal still lingered, like a splinter buried too deep to pull out. But for now, even though part of her heart was a little fractured, Tina was glueing her back together without even realising she was doing it - simply by being her. 

The sound of the door closing behind Tina brought her out of her thoughts. 

“T? Everything okay?”

Tina’s voice came from the hallway, slightly breathless. “It’s here.”

“What’s - oh shit! It’s here? Today?” She leapt from the couch too quickly, and shook off the echo of dizziness that had been following her around for weeks - another souvenir from her encounter. Tina held up the envelope, her cheeks reddening. Bette could just make out the logo in the corner: deep blue with gold trim, an eagle spreading its wings above a shield, framed by the bold letters beneath. Her stomach fluttered as Tina hesitated with the envelope

"I'm not ready to open it," she confessed, her voice small. "What if I didn’t get in? I don’t know if my application was strong enough, and my scores from my criminology degree… God, why did I party so much when I was younger, I should have been concentrating!"

Bette grinned, nudging her gently. "You got this. Open it. You definitely got the place."

Tina glanced at the letter again, nerves flickering across her face. “And what if - I mean do I really want to do another twenty weeks of training?” She shook her head, handing the envelope to Bette. “I can’t. You open it.”

Bette’s smile softened, and she gently pushed the letter back. “Nope. This is all you. You worked for this, and you’re going to open it.”

Tina hesitated, her thumb nervously tracing the edge of the envelope. Bette’s impatience flared - she was practically hopping from foot to foot. For a moment, she considered just grabbing it and tearing it open herself, but she stopped. Instead, she leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Tina’s forehead. "It doesn’t have to be now. Open it when you’re ready."

Tina waited a moment, then, with a deep breath, tore the envelope open. Bette watched her closely, holding her own breath as Tina’s eyes scanned the letter. Tina mumbled, skimming through the lines

Bette’s patience reached its limit. "Stop skipping!"

Tina laughed nervously, then straightened up, her voice clearer as she read aloud. "‘After careful consideration of an outstanding application and references, we are delighted to invite you to train as a Behavioral Analyst with the United States Federal Bureau of Investigation.’"

Tina looked up from the letter, her eyes wide and shining, a shocked smile spreading across her face. For a moment, she just stared at Bette, as if waiting for the reality of the words to sink in. "I... I got in," she whispered, a giggle of disbelief falling from her lips. 

Bette’s face broke into a wide grin before she whooped with excitement, not able to hold it in. In one swift motion, she scooped Tina off her feet, lifting her effortlessly and spinning her around in a tight circle. "You did it! Oh my god, you did it!" she shouted, laughing as she twirled her. "You fucking rock star!"

Tina laughed, her arms wrapping around Bette’s shoulders as she clung to her, the shock giving way to pure joy. Bette’s heart swelled, overwhelmed with pride and happiness for her. She set Tina back down, but not before pulling her into a tight hug, her voice softer now but still filled with awe. "I’m so proud of you. This is huge!"

Tina’s breath hitched, still processing everything, and she pressed her forehead against Bette’s. "I can’t believe it... I actually got in. Oh my god! And I was sure I flunked the fitness test -"

"You didn’t just get in, you earned it," Bette rested her hands firmly on Tina’s waist. "They’re lucky to have you. You’re going to be incredible."

Tina’s smile grew. "I couldn’t have done it without you."

Bette kissed her forehead again, her voice filled with nothing but admiration. "This was all you."

Tina's eyes clouded, flickering with uncertainty as she bit the inside of her lip. "What about..." she gestured around them, the unspoken question hanging in the air - referring to them, their relationship, and the change this would bring.

Bette smiled softly, shaking her head. She gripped Tina gently by the shoulders, her voice calm and reassuring. "Don’t worry about that right now. We’ll figure it out, okay? This moment is about you - about your brilliance, your genius. You earned this, and that’s what we’re celebrating. Everything else is just details."

Tina nodded with a smile, her eyes soft. Bette reached for the two glasses they’d left on the table, handing one to Tina. They clinked them together in a toast, the sound crisp in the quiet room. Then, with a gentle smile, Bette leaned in, pressing her lips to Tina’s in a slow, lingering kiss.

“My girlfriend, the FBI profiler,” Bette smiled proudly, and Tina laughed in disbelief at her fortune. 

When they finally pulled away, Bette felt full. More than full, she was truly content. This was exactly the good news they both needed, and it felt like something shifted inside her, like watching Tina reach this milestone had unlocked something deep within. She loved a lot of things about Tina, but her fearlessness, her tenacity to reach and grow and evolve - it was inspiring. Maybe this was the push she needed too, to do something outside her comfort zone. A little growth, after all, never hurt anybody.

After a few sips in happy silence, Bette grinned mischievously and broke the stillness. “So, do you think they’ve got a Messina ice cream parlour in Quantico?”

Tina blinked, confused, her brow furrowing. “I don’t know... why?”

Bette smirked, her eyes twinkling. “Well, if I’m going to Virginia with you… I can live without a lot, but triple chocolate? That’s non-negotiable.”