Chapter Text
“Have fun!” Morgan smiled, but not with her eyes.
She watched them leave the precinct.
Lucia and Karadec.
They were walking faster than they ever had, grabbing each other's arms as they laughed together, their eyes sparkling in a way no one had noticed before.
Morgan stood there, the room still loaded with people, still busy with what they had been doing. It was quite loud, the papers printing, the photocopier humming, fingers typing on keyboards, files slipping through pages, footsteps passing by, and the soda can falling out of the vending machine that, for who knows what reason, Morgan knew was Coca-Cola just from the sound of it banging against the metal opener of the vending machine
The room was filled with noises, coworkers, and yet she stood there, quite alone with empty thoughts.
That is not her.
Just as quickly as their footsteps faded, Morgan’s smile changed even faster. The warmth that had once been there slipped away, leaving behind only a faint curve of her lips, heavy with something quieter. As they slowly disappeared from view, a familiar melody filled the room, the lyrics whispering:
“I can’t find myself until you’re gone.”
The soft notes lingered in the air as she watched them now, gone.
She was happy for him but struggled to understand why there was a part of her that shouted the opposite. His eyes lingered in her mind, how Karadec's eyes had looked when he was looking at Lucia. It felt like they had known each other for so long, and that was a fact.
But still, Morgan had never seen that part of Karadec before, only now catching it when he gave it to someone else.
She saw him happy, so she told herself she was happy for her partner.
Not until he was fully gone.
3 weeks ago
Morgan turned around, ready to fight whoever was on her back, trying to follow her or something, until she saw who it was.
“What… you followed me?” she said, still tense from the moment before, her shoulders slowly loosening as the shock faded.
“You showed up to a crime scene and left two minutes later. Yes, I followed you,” he replied, giving her a serious but worried look, though he tried not to show how much he cared.
“What the hell’s going on?” Karadec asked.
Morgan hesitated for a moment before saying, “I think Rhys is Jean-Baptiste.”
“Rhys, the art consultant?” he asked, clearly confused.
Morgan gave a dry look. “No, the peanut butter cup. Yes, same guy. Only I don’t think he recovers art. I think he steals it. Or both. I don’t know.” She ran a hand through her hair, trying to organize the thoughts racing in her mind. “I just know that there is a crate in his room, and I think our Young Girl is inside.”
He frowned slightly. “Settle down. It’s a painting.”
Morgan stared at him. “Um… okay. That’s it? You heard he’s got an art crate, and now you think he’s an international art thief?”
“No,” she said quickly. “I saw it. And I also saw a scar on his left shoulder from a bullet wound, just like Jean-Baptiste…in the same spot.”
He blinked, processing that. “Okay… well, how did you see his scar?”
“Huh?” Morgan stalled.
“The scar,” he said slowly. “You said you saw it.”
Morgan hesitated. “Um…”
“I can tell you’re making a face. Could you translate that face for me?” he said, being unusually honest. He knows clearly how to read her when it is about what she feels, her behavior, the little things she does when she is worried, sad, irritated, or when she has too much on her mind or talking about,
"her silences."
But now, he cannot determine what it is.
“Yeah… yeah. You know,” she stammered. “He and I… we…”
Realization slowly crossed his face. “Oh. Oh.”
Morgan quickly waved it off. “You know what? It shocked me too. I don’t know. Can we move past that part? We have to rethink this entire investigation.” She said it faster, trying to jump to another topic, anything but that one.
He crossed his arms. “Okay, I think you’re being a little dramatic.”
“No,” Morgan insisted. “Rhys has been with us every step—from the heist to the murder. I understand that. That’s why I need to peek inside that crate.”
“Morgan, you can’t break into someone’s room without a warrant. You know that.” Yes, Karadec never stopped saying things like this, even though Morgan never really listened to him. Still, he said it every time. It had seemed impossible for Karadec to work with her in the first place. But Sotto was the one who insisted on the partnership, so he didn’t really have a choice but to oblige. And yet, here they were. Clearly annoying each other. Or perhaps Morgan was the one doing most of the annoying.
She shrugged slightly. “Obviously, if I find something important, I’m gonna say that I saw it when he invited me in.”
“That doesn’t make it better, Morgan. Now you’re just adding perjury to an unlawful search.”
Morgan muttered, “Good point. I’ll jot that down.”
“Morgan. Mor—” Karadec called out, almost shouting at first, but by the second attempt his voice had dropped, and Morgan was already walking away faster.
Meanwhile, Morgan was clearly up to something. She moved quietly through the place, snooping around with that same determination she always had, not stopping until someone caught her or forced her to stop. It was typical Morgan bending rules when she believed something mattered enough.
Karadec had already left, though not without reluctance. Normally, when Morgan started bending the rules, it annoyed him to no end. It was one of the things that constantly put them at odds. But this time, as he walked away, the feeling wasn’t irritation. It was worry.
He was driving when the thought of her returned again, uninvited, creeping back into his mind and refusing to leave. The road ahead blurred slightly as his thoughts wandered.
Morgan.
He couldn’t seem to escape the thought of her lately. Being in the same room with her sometimes drove him insane, yet somehow, he also found himself wanting her nearby, wanting her on his side like always.
But another thought kept pushing itself forward.
The art consultant.
You know what? It shocked me too. I don’t know.
Karadec exhaled quietly as he drove. There was something about Rhys, something he couldn’t quite explain or place. A feeling that lingered in the back of his mind like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit.
And the thought of Morgan making out with him… that was something Karadec had definitely not expected.
Hours passed and before anything else happened, after a long and exhausting investigation, the painting was finally recovered. The case was solved, cleared and finished.
Morgan and Karadec stood together again, discussing the details as the tension of the case slowly faded. Their conversation moved easily from one point to another as they reviewed everything that had happened.
Karadec glanced at her. “You invited Meriam Weisman?”
Morgan nodded. "Yes."
She explained that Meriam Weisman deserved to see the painting one last time. Even though technically she wasn’t the one who could keep it, Morgan believed the woman deserved that moment. After all, she was the real owner.
Karadec listened before responding calmly that their job was to enforce the law even when the law didn’t always feel right. Their conversation was cut short when the door opened. Rhys entered the room, walking past Morgan as if he had somewhere else to be. His arrival shifted the atmosphere immediately. Karadec’s eyes narrowed slightly the moment he saw him. The reaction was subtle, but unmistakable. He didn’t like him. Rhys announced that he had to leave soon, mentioning another job waiting for him elsewhere. Before he could continue, Karadec stepped forward.
“Well, Rhys, it would seem that your job here is done. Thank you,” he said, extending his hand toward him, the gesture polite but firm almost like a signal that the conversation should end there.
Rhys took his hand easily. “My pleasure.” He added that he believed the painting should ultimately be kept by Meriam Weisman. Morgan and Rhys exchanged a brief smile after that, the kind of quiet acknowledgment that comes after a job well done. Then they shook hands as well.
Karadec’s gaze dropped briefly to their hands as they clasped. His expression tightened for just a moment. It was clear he didn’t like Rhys’ presence. And it was even clearer that he liked it less when Morgan was involved.
"Okay, what was that?" Morgan asked, giving him a quick look.
"What was?" he replied slowly, glancing at her.
"Nothing, great job, partner!" she said, tapping his right shoulder lightly as she always did.
Still, she couldn’t help but notice. Karadec’s behavior shifted ever so slightly when Rhys was around, how his posture stiffened, how he spoke differently, how his attention flicked to subtle details she hadn’t seen before. She didn’t know why, and she didn’t try to guess. For now, it was just curiosity, a small, quiet observation she filed away, waiting to see if it came up again.
That evening, they were at the bar, and it was already loud when Morgan, Oz, Daphne, and Karadec settled into their usual table.
The place buzzed with the kind of noise that only came after a long day finally ended. Beer bottles knocked against each other in casual toasts, glasses chimed softly across the room, and somewhere near the counter the faint twinkle of champagne flutes could be heard between bursts of laughter. The bartender moved quickly behind the bar, sliding drinks across the counter while the fizz of freshly poured beer mixed with the hum of conversations overlapping everywhere.
It was busy, chaotic even, but it was familiar.
Their table was no different.
Oz had already started recounting parts of the case they had just closed, exaggerating things in the way he always did when he had an audience. Daphne kept interrupting him with dry comments, correcting the story whenever Oz started stretching the truth too far. Morgan laughed quietly beside them while Karadec leaned back in his chair, watching the exchange with that small amused expression he often had when Oz got carried away.
Oz said something ridiculous again, clearly joking, and Morgan laughed harder this time. Daphne shook her head while Karadec muttered something under his breath that only made Oz defend himself even more dramatically.
For a moment, the table felt easy. Relaxed.
For once, none of them were thinking about reports, suspects, or evidence boards. Morgan eventually noticed their beer bottles were empty. With a small sigh and a half smile, she pushed her chair back and stood, gathering the bottles and glasses from the table. Oz said something behind her, probably asking for another drink or teasing her about what she should bring back, while Daphne added something sarcastic that made Oz protest again.
Morgan only shook her head as she turned toward the bar. Then Wagner had just walked in.
He stepped inside with the same calm confidence he carried everywhere else, his eyes briefly scanning the crowded bar before landing on her. He saw her on the counter and walked straight toward Morgan.
“Hey. Heard you guys do an end-of-the-day thing here,” Wagner said.
For some reason, no one really wanted him, their captain, a word most of them never even liked saying around him, or maybe to know about this place. This was where they came after a long period of work, after a case had been solved. A location where their tiredness would now be paid off with a touch of alcohol, but also with the comfort of everyone’s conversations and quiet chuckles with their boss.
But this time, not with Lieutenant Sotto.
Morgan smiled. They had a long conversation, the same feeling as when Wagner always talked with Morgan. It was that kind of discussion where he moved between being serious and having some sort of motive, yet still sounding friendly. He was always there, even when Morgan did not really want him to be.
It reminded her of those times when she had been completely avoiding him. Still, somehow, Wagner always found a way to end up talking to her.
In the background, Karadec saw the two of them.
But his eyes were only on Morgan. He watched her smiling while talking with Wagner. He never really understood what it was exactly, but for some reason there was worry in his eyes. He had a strange feeling about their captain.
Just like the times when he had conversations with Wagner himself. Wagner always ended up talking about Morgan.
And Karadec did not like that.
Not even a bit.
He had been quite pissed the first day Wagner talked to him about her in the office. And even more after that conversation they had in the car.
Something about it had never sat right with him.
And watching the two of them now only made that feeling return.
For an hour, the team slowly began to wrap things up, looking forward to going back to their own homes, getting some sleep, and waking up to another day of investigation.
Captain Wagner had already left earlier. Oz and Daphne said goodbye to the two of them as Karadec waited for Morgan. She was clearly struggling to put on her fur jacket, trying to find the sleeve opening while half-distracted.
Karadec gave a small gesture of annoyance, lifted his head slightly and blinked upward with a snobbish look, as if wondering how she was still managing to struggle with something so simple.
He thought Morgan was still too conscious about how she looked, insisting on wearing the jacket.
Without saying anything, Karadec stepped closer and decided to help.
He lifted her wrist, the one still searching for the sleeve opening and guided it through the hole of the fur jacket. Then he pulled the fabric over her arm, finishing the motion quickly and efficiently.
“Why, thank you, Karadec. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I highly appreciate it,” Morgan said, smiling with her teeth, a slightly naughty grin directed at him.
Karadec only gave her a sideways snobbish look in response.
“Come on. Let me drive you home. It’s kinda late,” he said, sounding more casual than concerned, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And before you say no, don’t. You look like you’re about two seconds away from falling asleep standing up.”
“No, I don’t!”
“I was just kidding.”
“Well, I don’t think it is funny, haha. Seriously, that is the joke you can come up with?” She chuckled, shaking her head lightly. “Typical Karadec.”
He gave her a frown, his eyebrows pulling together as he glanced at her. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Morgan didn’t bother answering him. Instead, she grabbed the edge of her jacket and adjusted it around her shoulders as if she hadn’t even heard the question.
“And for the record,” she added casually, “I will never say no to Adam Karadec giving me a free ride.” She smirked at him, wide and playful, like she knew exactly what she was doing. Karadec stared at her for a second, clearly unimpressed by the comment.
“Stop this nonsense, come on,” he said, already turning toward the exit. He pushed the door open and stepped out into the colder night air without waiting for her response. Morgan followed a second later, quickening her pace to catch up beside him.
Karadec walked ahead with his usual determined stride, hand already in his coat pocket, while Morgan trailed just half a step behind, watching him with a faint, amused smile still lingering on her face. For someone who constantly complained about her, she thought, he still offered to drive her home. And he never once asked if she actually needed it.
Minutes later, they drove off in the car.
The bar lights faded behind them as Karadec pulled the car onto the road, the sound of the city slowly replacing the laughter and noise they had left inside. The night had settled quietly over the streets, carrying a soft warmth that lingered in the air. It wasn’t cold, not yet. The kind of late evening where the breeze moved gently through the open window, brushing against their skin as the car moved forward.
Streetlights stretched along the road like a slow rhythm of gold, appearing and disappearing across the windshield as they passed beneath them.
For a city that was usually busy, the streets looked strangely empty. Only a few cars drove in the distance, their headlights sliding quietly past before vanishing again into the dark roads ahead. It was unusual, but considering how late it had gotten, maybe it wasn’t so surprising after all.
Inside the car, the silence settled between them.
Not an uncomfortable silence, but the kind that followed a long day—when words weren’t always necessary.
Morgan leaned slightly against the door, her elbow resting near the window as she watched the passing lights outside. The glow from the street lamps briefly illuminated her face every few seconds before fading again.
Karadec kept both hands on the steering wheel, his attention on the road ahead. But his thoughts were not entirely on driving.
Five minutes passed like that.
Then Karadec cleared his throat slightly.
“Sooo…”
Morgan slowly turned her gaze toward him, pulling her attention away from the quiet road outside.
“Yup?” she replied.
Karadec opened his mouth as if the words were ready to come out.
But then he stopped.
His lips closed again, and whatever question had been sitting on his mind seemed to retreat just as quickly.
“Uh… nothing. Forget about it.”
Morgan frowned faintly.
“Oh come on, really?” she said. “Do you want me to keep that on my mind? It barely fits already.”
Karadec exhaled quietly through his nose, his fingers adjusting slightly on the steering wheel.
For a moment he considered leaving it alone.
But the image from earlier at the bar was still sitting in his head. Wagner standing there. Talking to Morgan. Smiling like he belonged there.
“I just wanted to ask what you and Wagner were talking about,” he said finally, his eyes still fixed on the road.
Morgan blinked once before her eyebrows lifted slightly.
“Ooohhh… Karadec is a little curious.”
Karadec gave a small scoff but didn’t look at her.
“It’s nothing,” Morgan said with a shrug. “I don’t even know what he was talking about. Well, I know, but I just went along with it, you know. Just putting up the Gillory smile to make him feel like I was actually interested in what he was saying.”
Karadec briefly glanced at her from the corner of his eye before looking back at the road.
The street ahead curved slightly as he turned the wheel.
“What did you ask?” Morgan asked.
“Nothing,” he replied. But he was just really worried at something he does not know—yet.
Morgan looked at him for a moment, trying to read his expression. But Karadec had already returned to that quiet focus he always had when driving.
“Well, okay,” she said eventually. “I don’t have the guts to insist on asking. I’m—”
Her sentence broke as a yawn escaped her.
“—sleepy,” she finished softly.
The warmth of the car, the long day, and the quiet road had finally started catching up to her. Without thinking too much about it, Morgan shifted slightly in her seat and leaned toward him, resting her head gently against Karadec.
Karadec froze for half a second. Not visibly. Not enough for Morgan to notice. But his hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel. He didn’t move away. He didn’t say anything either.
Instead, he kept his eyes on the road ahead as the car continued gliding through the quiet streets.
Outside, the city lights kept passing them one by one. Inside the car, Morgan’s breathing slowly steadied as sleep began to take over.
And Karadec drove on through the warm night.