Title: Charred

Author: Cat deLuna

Ratings: 17

Warnings: Violence, descriptions of rape (though not too graphic), and some sex

Disclaimers: This piece is completely original, and any resemblance to real people is a coincidence

Authors Note: This is an ongoing story that I'm working on.  At some moments, I jump ahead in time, and don't tell  you.  Sorry.  Also, I am in no way an expert on the NYPD or NYC; try not to hold it against me.  There may be some discrepancies in the plot; it's all my fault, deal with it.

Feedback E-mail Address: cat.deluna@gmail.com I'd love to hear any/all critiques, even if you don't like it.

Prologue

Adoption agencies are either the stupidest enterprise we humans have come up with, or the best.  It all depends on who you're married to, and how much money you have.  I personally am not married; I don't honestly believe that my soul mate exists and I'm not willing to settle, and I'm not exactly made of money.  New York City loves its police force, but not enough to pay us good money.  No matter.  My current dilemma is about deciding which adoption agency to go to first.  It's not like it really matters, right?  All my coworkers tell me that I won't find a kid who I can adopt at the first one.  But what do they know?

When I first suggested to myself that I might want to look into having a kid, I ran away from the thought.  How could I, a seasoned detective, think to bring an innocent child into this god-awful world?  The guilt would kill me.  I don't know how parents do it.  Maybe I've just seen too much of the dark side of humanity, but I couldn't bear the pain of knowing that someone who I had given birth to would have to endure such pain.  But the idea of having a kid around kept nagging me, and since I never ignore my nags, I kept thinking about it.  In a rare drunken state after a hard case, I told my partner about the idea, and he suggested that I look into adoption.

So here I am, looking at printouts from the agencies that checked out.  Cop that I am, I ran background checks on all of them.  It's kinda scary how many came up dirty.  So now I had a list of 10 different places to check out.  I had already gone through the process with the State, and now all I had to do was find a place that would help me find a child who needed a home that I could work with.  It all sounded so simple, but my gut told me it would be anything but.  As usual, my instincts proved right.

Chapter 1

After 6 months of paper work, trial periods, and testing, the adoption was final.  Charlotte was now my daughter.  The blonde girl of the tender age of 14 was a bit leery about the whole endeavor, but I suspected her social worker had told her that I was her last chance.  Abandoned by her mother when she was 9, her shy nature had won her no ground with prospective parents.  The adoption rate for children over the age of 7 was horrifyingly low, I had learned, and Char was lucky to have found someone like me.  Or so I'd been told.

We had already had a week long trial period with her living with me, so she was familiar with my apartment and my routine, but both of us wondered what life was going to be like.  For my part, I had talked to my captain about this endeavor at length, and he had agreed to work with me about hours.  My next door neighbor was willing to check in on Char, as she liked to be called, from time to time when I was working late, and she was enrolled at the local school for next year.  It being June and all, it didn't seem like a good idea to put her in for the last few weeks.  She had agreed.  It all seemed so surreal.

I pulled my car into my designated spot and we climbed out.  I led the way to my, our, door in silence, nervous as a teenager on her first date.  I tried to think of something to say, but for once, words failed me.  I held the door open and let Char go in ahead of me.  She stopped in the entryway, and I gently nudged her into the kitchen.  I put my keys on the counter, and offered her something to drink.  She refused, and I saw something like fear in her eyes.

Walking over, I put my arms around her and hugged her tight.  To my surprise she let me hold her, and even leaned in a bit.  It went against everything I knew about her, and I realized then just how freaked out she really was.

"This is gonna work, Char, I promise," I said into her hair, and told myself that it would.  There was no way I was going to turn my back on her now.  In the 5 months since I had first met her, I had spent every moment I could with her; taking her to movies, lunch, dinner, everything I could think of to try and let her know that I was as committed to her as I could be.  I had risked being late three days a week to drive her to school, and I thanked God that my captain was supporting me in this.

I felt Char pull away slightly, and I released her.  Looking her in the eyes, I repeated what I'd said a few moments ago, "This is gonna work out, Char.  We'll fumble our way through it.  I promise."  The look she gave me; the hopelessness in her eyes, broke my heart.  This wasn't going to be as easy as I'd hoped.  But no matter, I'd make it work.  Eventually she would be secure in the knowledge that I wasn't going to abandon her.  I hoped.

The next morning my alarm went off at 5, as usual.  I hit the snooze once, then dragged myself off the sweat soaked sheets.  June in New York was like a month long sauna, with no relief in sight.  I never slept well in summer, it was just too damn hot.  I stumbled to the closet to find clothes; I eventually chose a light cotton blouse and the thinnest pants I could find.  Why I hadn't picked a job that let me wear shorts in the summer was beyond me.

Clothes in hand, I made my way down the hall on tiptoes to the bathroom.  I shuddered slightly as I turned the shower on; I wasn't used to being quiet in the morning, and the knowledge of the sleeping form just a few yards away made every noise ten times louder.  Not waiting for the water to warm up, I climbed in to take an icy shower.  It was the only time that day that I was cool.

After I was dressed I walked to the kitchen to make myself some coffee.  The old machine bubbled and gurgled itself to life just as it had every morning since I'd bought it, but today it sounded louder than a jet engine.  I hoped Char was a deep sleeper.

5 minutes later, coffee in hand, I sat down at the table to listen to the radio.  I never liked reading the paper, and TV news was never reliable.  The radio had a disconnected quality that I liked.  It didn't matter what the announcers were wearing, or how their makeup looked.

At six I stood and walked quietly to Char's room.  I knocked on the door gently, then pushed it open.  The girl was curled in a ball in the center of the bed; her blankets were on the floor.  I smiled slightly at her relaxed expression; she seemed so peaceful in sleep.  I hated to wake her, but had promised that I would before I left.

Walking over, I shook her shoulder slightly.

"Char, wake up kiddo," I said, and she woke with a start.  I helped her sit up, and pushed the hair out of her face.  Her features, so calm before, were now tight with some kind of fear.  I put my arms around her and held her close until the trembling stopped, and she pulled away.

"Hey kiddo, I've got to go to work, okay?" I asked tenderly, wishing that I could stay home with her.  "Will you be okay?"

"Yeah," she muttered, and I didn't need to be a cop to know that she was lying. "Listen, kiddo, I'll be coming home for my lunch break, round noon, and maybe we can go out to get a bite, how does that sound?"  I tried to think of what she might like to do.

"You don’t have to baby me ya know," she said quietly.  I smiled and ruffled her hair.  "Yeah?  Well, maybe I just want to have lunch with you."  She smiled then, and shook her head.

"Now, tell you what.  How bout you go back to sleep and call my cell when you get up, okay?  I left the number by the phone in the kitchen.  There's some food in the fridge, and I thought we could go out this evening to get some stuff that you'd like to have in the house."  She nodded, and I hugged her again before letting her lie back down.

"Try not to drown in sweat," I said as I walked out.  I felt bad about leaving her alone on her first day, but reminded myself again that there was no way I could take the day off.

I let myself out the front door quietly, and drove to work.  Char called around 9 to tell me that she was awake, and I told her that I would be home by twelve thirty to take her out to lunch.  When I asked her where she might like to go she got quiet and noncommittal.  We hung up a few seconds later.

"What's wrong?" my partner, Matt Stinson, asked from his desk across from me.

"Char got all quiet when I asked her where she wanted to go for lunch.  Something about her felt wrong."  When we'd first been paired together he'd often laughed at my gut feelings, but when time after time I'd been right, he learned to respect my instincts.

"So?" he asked, tossing some paper into the trashcan.

"So, I wonder what detail from her past freaks her out by talking about restaurants."

"Maybe she just couldn't decide where to go for lunch," he said, smiling slightly.  Suddenly his teasing was too much.  I trusted him to watch my back on the street, but he had been a pain in my ass for too long.  Lunging up, I came around our desks and grabbed his collar, dragging him up so that his nose was barely an inch from mine.

"Listen, you piece of crap, she lived through nine years of abuse from her drug addicted mother; only to be abandoned to the mercy of the State because her mother, and I use the term loosely, found a new boyfriend who didn’t like kids.  She doesn't have a tough time making decisions about where to eat for lunch; she's scared out of her mind that she's going to be abandoned again!"  I realized that I was yelling at the top of my lungs, and that the entire squad room was staring at me.  Fuming, I dropped Stinson and stormed out of the room.  I could hear footsteps behind me, and I quickened my pace; trying to outrun whoever was behind me.

"Crys, for the love of God, slow down."  It was the captain, a balding man who been my mentor 13 years ago when I was first with homicide before he was promoted to captain.  I stopped but didn’t turn around.

"Look, DeSuiesk, I know you're on edge, what with everything going on, but it's no reason to take it out on your partner," he said, his tone calm but stern.

"Captain," I said, turning around, but he cut me off.

"Go take a walk, calm down, then come back and apologize to Stinson."  He looked me in the eye.  "Being stressed is no excuse to get violent."

Just as suddenly as it had come up, I felt the anger drain out of me, and I suddenly felt limp.  The captain was right, of course, attacking Matt wasn't the way to get back at Char's mother.  I nodded silently to let the captain knew I'd heard him, then headed out to get some fresh air.  Again, using the term loosely.

After a short walk around the corner to get a cold soda, I headed back, mentally preparing myself for an apology.  Not my strongest suit, despite the frightening number of them I'd made.

"Hey," I said, walking up behind Stinson and tapping him on the shoulder.  "I, um, I'm sorry, bout earlier."  I looked at my shoes, embarrassed by what I'd done.

"Hey, don't sweat it.  I shouldn't have said what I did."  I looked up, and we smiled a little.

"You two fight like an old married couple," a sarcastic voice said from across the room.  I grinned wolfishly up at the tall man lounging against his desk.  Meet Bill Arlington; our very own conspiracy theory nut.

"You should know, Billy-boy," I teased, suddenly in a better mood, "You still sleeping on the couch after your last stint?"  We all laughed together, and the entire incident was forgotten.

A little before noon I stood up and announced that I was going home for lunch.  The guys nodded and started making their own plans.  I ducked out as they argued about which deli to go to, and drove home.

As I weaved my way through traffic, I felt a sudden pang of uncertainty.  What business did I have trying to raise a kid?  I had no idea what I was doing; I'd probably screw her up even more.  But before I could dwell on my own distrust I was home; and a minute later, I was walking in my—our—front door to find Char crying on the couch.

She was just sitting there, tears on her face, not making a noise.  I dropped my things by the door and ran over to her.  Her eyes were blank when she looked up to me, and my heart broke for her pain.

"Shh, baby, don’t cry.  I'm here," I murmured, pulling her to me.  She sat stiff, not pulling away, but not letting me comfort her.  At a loss for what to do, I just held her, whispering soft nothings into her hair, and let her cry.  Eventually she relaxed against me.

"Char?  Can you tell me why you were crying?" I asked softly, not releasing her.  I knew that it would be easier for her to speak if she wasn't looking me in the eye.

She shook her head against me, and I could feel her shaking.  I hugged her even tighter.  "It's okay, little one, you're safe.  It's okay.  Shhhh."

We sat like that for almost half an hour before she calmed down enough for me to make lunch.  We ate in silence, and I didn't try to insult her by making small talk.  I thought about her tears, and what she was so afraid of, and realized that she must be afraid of me abandoning her.  Her mother had left her when she was nine; she had no reason to believe that I was sticking around.  I contemplated it as I ate, and tried to come up with a solution.  The only one that came to mind, though, was to reassure her every chance I got  that I was coming home every day.  I tried not to think about what would happen if I had to pull a double shift.

Eventually it was time for me to head back out, and I tried desperately to think of a way to convince her that I was coming home.  It came to me as I hugged her goodbye.

"Hey Char?" I asked her.  She looked up.  "How would you feel about getting a cab downtown when I'm done with work, and we'll meet somewhere for dinner?"  She stared at me for a moment, then nodded.

"Kay, here, I'll give you some money for the cab," I pulled some cash out of my wallet, "And I'll call you when I'm near done and we'll figure out where we want to go, okay?"  She nodded again.  "And Char?"  I waited until she looked up from her shoes.

"Yeah?" she whispered, breaking her near silence.

"You can call me any time.  Even just to chat.  I may not be able to talk right then, but I'll do my best.  I promise."  She nodded, and I reached out to brush the tearstains on her cheeks.

"I'll see you later then, kiddo."  After one last hug, I left.

I drove back to the precinct with a knot in the pit of my stomach.  I couldn't help but wonder how long it would take before Char trusted me to come home, and how my job would get in the way of that.  I love what I do; I'm working my dream job, but being away from Char was hard.  Harder than I'd ever thought it would be.  It scared me a little, the fact that I was getting so attached to a girl I barely knew, but my heart told me that it would be okay.

I called home twice during the day to talk with Char for a bit each time.  She wasn't very vocal, but seemed to be reassured by my calls.  I wished I could do more.

Just before I was going to call her again to talk about our dinner plans, my captain came out of his office and told us that we had a case.  I felt my stomach drop; our evening was going down the toilet as I listened to him outline the case.

"DeSuisk?  A moment?"  The captain beckoned to me, and I followed him to his office silently.  He closed the door behind me, then leaned on his desk.

"If you want out of this case, I'll understand.  I know you need to get home to Char."  I thought about in a moment.  On one hand, I wanted to take the out and get home to the girl who was counting on me, but on the other, I knew I couldn't.  I tried to reason with the part of me that needed to take the case; I told myself that Char needed me more right now, but eventually the need to catch the guy won.

"I appreciate that, Cap, but I can't take the offer."  He looked at me with intense brown eyes, and nodded.

"Why don't you call her and get her down here for the night.  I'm sure she can hang in the crash room until you're done."  I looked up at him from my shoes and wished I could hug him.

"Thanks, Cap."  I hoped he knew just how much his offer meant.

I left his office with higher spirits and went to my desk to call Char.

"Hello?" she answered after three rings.

"Hey kiddo," I said.

"Hey," she said, her voice quivering with anticipation.  I hated myself for ruining our plans.

"Char, I'm going to tell you something, and I want you to listen to everything I say before you react.  Okay?"

"Yeah," she said, voice quiet.

"We just caught a case, and I'm going to need to be here for most of the night, but my captain suggested that you come down and spend the night here.  We've got bunks where you can crash if you want to, or you can hang out at my desk."  I held my breath as she thought about it.

"Char?"

"Yeah, okay."  Her voice had an odd tone, but I couldn't figure out what she was feeling.  I wished I didn't have to do this.

"I'm really sorry about dinner, Char.  I'm sure I'll be able to get away for a little to eat; we can spend some time together then, kay?"  She murmured an affirmative, then confirmed where she should direct the taxi.  I told her that I probably wouldn't be here when she got to the station, but to ask for me anyway.  I'd leave instructions with the front desk to direct her to our squad room, and someone would take care of her.  We hung up after saying goodbye, and I stood to get ready to go.

My partner shot me a curious look, but knew better than to ask me what was going on.  Before we left I spoke with the front desk, and made sure that someone in the squad room would send Char to my desk.

I drove us to the scene; after our first week together Matt realized that I would go insane if he drove; he wasn’t very daring.  It took us fifteen minutes to find the place; an old restaurant that looked like it hadn't been painted in years.  We flashed our badges to the uni on guard by the yellow tape and ducked under.

The first officer on the scene was waiting for us by the body; a blond man who looked to be about twenty-five who was lying in a pool of blood.

"Any ID?" I asked as I squatted by the body; taking a look without touching anything and careful not to disturb the blood pool.

"Yeah, about fifteen of them.  None of 'em look like his," the officer said.  I looked up at him quizzically.  He held up a stack of evidence bags with a different driver's license in each.  I stood and took a look at them.  A few were women, and all of them were obvious forgeries.  Handing them over to Matt, I walked around a little, looking at everything.

A few minutes later the Crime Scene Unit arrived, along with the medical examiner.  He told us that the apparent cause of death was blunt force trauma to the back of the head, which explained the blood, but didn't have much more to add.  We took a few notes, looked at the evidence the CSUs were bagging, then headed back to the station.

It took us more than thirty minutes to get back; what with traffic and all.  By the time we got were in the door it was 7:30.  As soon as we walked in we realized that the air conditioning was out of commission again; it was sweltering in the stationhouse.  I pushed hair out of my face as we walked through the double doors into our squad room and looked around to find Char.

She was sitting at my desk, feet propped up, reading a book.  I smiled; she obviously had no idea that that was my preferred position, especially on late nights like these.  Walking over, I laid a hand on her shoulder.  She jumped a little, then turned and smiled up at me.

"Hey," she said, obviously happy about something.

"Hey yourself, kiddo.  How long've you been waiting?" I asked, putting my notes on the desk.

"I've been here about an hour.  Your captain is really cool."  I looked at her with a  bit of surprise, then shot a glance at his closed door.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, he gave me a tour of the station, and lent me this book about criminal law.  Did you know that the habius corpus laws have been around since medieval times?" she asked excitedly.  "Or that the NYPD was modeled after London's police department, and that it's the largest police force in the world?"  I laughed.

"Yes and yes," I said, ruffling her hair.  "Why so interested in the force all of a sudden?"  She shrugged.

"Cause it's cool?" she said, turning back to her book.

"Well, if you ever want to learn more, I'm sure the captain's got a few more books you could take a look at."  As if summoned, the captain stuck his head out and beckoned to Matt and me.

"I've got to go update the captain on our case, kiddo.  Let me know if you need anything."

"What about dinner?" she asked.

"I'll see what I can do.  We usually order take out when we're working late."  She nodded and turned back to her book.  I smiled and headed to the captain's office with my notes.

"So, Cap, you filling my daughter's mind with criminal history for me?" I asked, taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"She wanted something to read.  Who am I to stifle an inquisitive mind?" he asked, spreading his hands in innocence.  I snorted.

"So, tell me about your guy."

"John Doe, had fifteen fake driver's licenses on him; preliminary COD is blunt force trauma to the back of the head.  We'll know more after the ME opens him up."  I gave him the brief overview of our case, knowing from experience that he didn't want the details just yet.

"Well, start with looking into the fake IDs.  Talk with vice to see if they've got anything on him, and run him through all the systems; maybe the feds've got him in their radar."

"Prolly not, Cap'n, the fakes weren't very good.  One look and you'd know they weren't real," Matt said.

"Run him through anyway.  Also, check Missing Persons.  Sounds like he walked outside the law, but maybe not."  He paused and stared at each of us for a moment.  "Let's get to work."  I stood and let Matt walk out before me.

"I'll talk to Vice," I said as we went over to our desks.  Char was still sitting at mine.

"I'll start the search," Matt agreed.

"Hey kiddo, why don't I set you up at a different desk so I can get to work?" I asked Char, looking around for an empty desk for her to read at.

"Sure," she said, standing.  I motioned her over to Bill's deserted desk.  I reminded her gently not to look into any files, and left her to her book.

Returning to my desk I sat down and picked up the phone, dialing the vice squad.  I spoke with a few people before being referred to a detective.

"Detective Bavish," he answered.

"DeSuiesk; Homicide," I said, "I've got a DB who might have shown up on your radar.  Looks like he made fake IDs.  If I send you a pic, do ya think you might be able to finger him?"

"I dunno, how much is it worth to you?" he asked, a smirk in his voice.  I pulled the phone away from my ear and starred at it incredulously.

"Excuse me?" I said into the receiver after a moment.  "What did you say?"

Soon two months had passed, and we had settled into a routine of sorts.  I woke early and went to work; usually leaving a note for Char.  I told her as often as I could that I would be coming home in the evening; not leaving her for some druggy as her mother had.  I called her at home when I could, sometimes using my cell from the car as we sped to a scene.  When I took a lunch break I would come home and we'd eat together.  Sometimes she would catch a taxi to the station and we'd go out with Matt.  She seemed to like coming in with me, and soon the squad had adopted her as their unofficial mascot.  She liked the attention the guys gave her, and opened up a little during our lunches together.  Some days I'd get her up early, and she'd come in with me.  It never even occurred to me to not expose her to my workplace; it seemed as natural as breathing to me to want to spend all the time I could with her.

Some time is was hard; she would relapse into a state of melancholy and wouldn't speak to anyone for days on end.  Those days I would call every hour, even taking the day off to be with her if I could.  I would hold her close, and when she pushed me away I would slip notes under her door.  Eventually she would come out and we would talk.  I promised her over and over again that we were in this for the long haul, and sometimes she even believed it.

It came as a shock when her social worker dropped in one day.  We were sitting at the table playing monopoly, a game Char had taken to with a passion after I first introduced her to it.  She had a natural talent for it; and I almost always wound up with no money and ass deep in debt to her.  It was one of her better days, and I was comfortable teasing her about buying Boardwalk out from under her nose.  We were both laughing when the knock came, and I almost missed it.  Char was the one who looked up and motioned me to the door.  I had told her soon after she moved in that I was paranoid, and that it would take me a while to relax about certain things.  I assured her that I trusted her completely to do the right thing, that it was the rest of the world that worried me.  She seemed to understand, and she accepted it as just another quirk I had.

I stood up and moved to the front door, looking through the peep hole.  I opened the door with a smile when I saw the social worker's familiar face.

"Hey Molly, how's it goin?" I asked cheerfully.  She smiled tightly, and I backed up to let her in.  I had every respect for a woman who could deal with the things she did, but it didn't mean that I liked her any more.  I was as polite as I could be, but it was only for Char's sake.  We walked in, and her beady eyes swept over the room, looking for anything she might deem inappropriate.  Her eyes lit on some files I had brought home on the pretext of looking over them.  The fact was that I had forgotten them as soon as Char had challenged me to a game of monopoly.

Molly walked over to the offending folders and started flipping through them.  I would be cordial as possible, but they were private police files, and my captain would have my ass in a sling if he found out someone without a badge had seen them.

"I'm sorry but you can't look through those.  Their confidential police files."  I walked over and stared the taller woman down.  She relented and set them back on the counter.  I started to breath a sigh of relief, but she wasn't done with me yet.

"Why did you bring them home, if no one is supposed to see them?" she asked, looking me directly in the eye.  I didn't flinch; she didn't scare me.  Well, not that much.

"Because I thought I might get some work done later.  We got distracted by a game of monopoly."  I tried to smile, but her stony glare dimmed the brightness.  I tried to salvage the situation, but I could already feel Char retreating into herself.  I kicked myself for getting into a sparring match with Molly.

"Aren't you worried that Charlotte might get into them?" the social worker asked, moving to the kitchen.  I was careful to keep it well stocked with healthy food; both because I liked it that way, and because Molly was liable to drop in at any time.

"Of course not," I moved to put my arm around Char's shoulders, and was thankful that she understood enough to lean into me a little.  "Char understands that their confidential, and I trust her to not get into them."  I followed her into the kitchen, where she began opening cabinets at random.  My fists clenched involuntarily; I didn't like people prying into my life.  I forced myself to relax, and shared a secret smile with Char.  She grinned back at me; knowing me well enough by now that I didn't like Molly any more than she did.  It sometimes amazed me that most adults didn't think kids could understand these things.

"Everything looks good in here," Molly muttered reluctantly.

"Would you like to take a look through the rest of the house?" I asked, all trace of sarcasm careful edited out of my voice.  I was the picture of compliance.  She looked at me and got a little smile on her face.

"Thank you, but no.  I've got a number of other stops to make; all of them much higher risk than you two."  It was the closest she'd ever come to complimenting my new role as mother.  It was disconcerting.  I had come to expect Molly to be a harsh tyrant that Char and I could laugh about after she left.

Without another word, Molly was at the door, then out in the hallway.  I was truly stunned.  The one thing we could both count on was changing.  Char caught my eye as the door closed and we both burst out laughing a few seconds later.  It felt so good to be happy with my young charge.  I felt a sudden surge of love for the girl child next to me, and I reached out on instinct to hug her.  I pulled her close, and she responded by hugging me tight.

"I love you, kiddo," I murmured into her hair.  She stiffened; I'd never said anything like that to her before.

"Ya," she replied into my shirt, "You're a pretty cool mom."  My heart sang for joy.  It had been hard at first for both of us; trying to figure out how we fit together.  This was the first time she'd ever come close to calling me anything like mother.  I had known at some level that I was doing a good job with her, but it was something else entirely to hear it from her.

"You're an awesome kid, ya know that?" I said, trying to convey some of the emotion I was feeling.  I knew in that moment what unconditional love was; I would give my life in an instant for this tender child; without hesitation, without fear.  I wonder if all mothers feel like this.

"Are we gonna get back to the game?" Char asked from my arms, and I let her go with a kiss on the top of her head.

"I wonder if I should let Molly know that you enjoy kicking my ass so much," I said, teasing.  She laughed and handed me the dice.

"Just for that I'm going to recall all my loans right now," she said, deal breaker to the core.  I groaned and tried to bargain my way out of the threat.  Where was a good defense lawyer when you needed one?

"DeSuiesk, my office for a second?"  The captain beckoned me with a single finger.  One finger meant I wasn't in trouble; two meant that he was pissed, but not at me; and the whole hand, well, that meant you'd really screwed up and he knew it.

"Close the door," he ordered when I walked in.  I wondered if this was going to be about my partner.

"Crys, you've been with me for 13 years now; you're one of my best detectives," he said, taking a seat at his desk.  "As you already know, Stinson has requested a transfer to Narcotics."  I had known about my partner's transfer request, but I didn't realize it might be happening so quickly.  We'd always gotten along fairly well; and I'd be sad to not have him at my back anymore.  "It just came through today.  You're new partner is coming over from Assault.  Her name's Alexandra Wilding.  She's fairly new to the force; I'm hoping you can take her under your wing a bit."  My mind was reeling.  A female partner?  My skill on the street; in the interrogation room, was all based on playing off a male partner.  This would be a huge change; and one that I was less than prepared for.

"You're joking right?" I asked, hoping it was all some ruse set up by the squad to get back at me for something.  The look on the captain's face told me it wasn't.

"Okay," I took a deep breath, "When's she getting here?"  I was going to be stuck with a female partner, I might as well make the best of it.  I loved my job, and there was no way a new partner was going to ruin it for me.  The rest of the squad was still intact, my life wasn't totally up in arms.

"Any moment.  Look, Crys," he started, but whatever he was going to say was lost when someone knocked on the door.

"Come in," the captain said, shooting me a warning look.  I sighed.  This certainly was going to be interesting.

The door opened, and a tall, dark haired woman walked in.  Her hair was close cropped, just long enough to get in her eyes.  I wondered how she survived on the streets like that.  Her eyes were black as coal; I couldn't make out the pupils.  She was wearing black jeans and a white t-shirt; a gun prominently displayed on her hip.  Walking with a bit of a swagger she approached the captain's desk and stopped.  I wasn't sure if she'd seen me, sitting to one side, or not.

"Alex Wilding, reporting for duty, sir," she said in vaguely accented voice.  The captain stood up and extended a hand to her.  She shook it and remained standing after the captain regained his seat.

"Wilding, I'd like you to meet your new partner, Detective Crys DeSuiesk."  I stepped forward, and stood a little to close to the new woman; trying to get her off center.  I had played with the boys long enough to know how to intimidate a woman, and I felt the undeniable urge to mark my territory for her.  She looked down at me with a small smirk on her face, and extended a hand.  I took it and shook it hard; trying to gauge her muscle.  She didn't seem to want to play the game.  I sighed inside, and smiled at her.

"Welcome to homicide, Detective.  Captain, do you need to talk to her, or shall I give her the tour?" I asked, turning to the man behind the desk.  He seemed amused at my power display and Alex's indifference.

"Go ahead, DeSuisk.  Wilding, I'm sure we'll talk in the future.  Feel free to come to me with any concerns."  He smiled and I led the way out the door.  Walking over to my desk, I felt her black eyes bore holes in my back.

Pointing to Stinson's cleaned out desk, I said, "I guess this'll be yours.  We've got lockers over there," I pointed, "But you'll need to bring your own lock."  I introduced her to the rest of the squad, and was running out of things to say when we got the call for a scene.  We grabbed our jackets and headed out the door.  I drove, and twenty minutes later we were pulling up at the yellow crime scene tape and the responding officers.  We got out of the car and walked over to the uniformed officer standing guard against curious citizens.  I smiled.

"Sergeant Dickson, I didn't know you were still on patrol," I said.  It was an old joke between us.  We had gone through the academy together, and while I had chosen the path of detective he preferred to stay in his squad car and break up bar fights.

"How are ya, Crys?" he asked as we ducked under the tape.  "New partner, I see."  I motioned to Alex.

"Pete, Alex.  Alex, Pete."  They exchanged pleasantries, then we headed into the building.  The ME greeted us at the body; a 15 year old stab victim, he said, ID said he had been attending St. Peter's High.  His name was Charles Sweeting.  I swallowed hard.  Ever since I'd adopted Char the younger vics had hit me harder.

We stayed at the scene for about an hour, and by the time we got back to the station after running by the lab it was almost time for lunch.  We sat down at our desks and Alex started putting the file together.  She looked like she'd be there for a while.

"Hey," I said to get her attention.  She looked up.

"Listen, I'm gonna go out for lunch.  You wanna come?"  I had decided to try to be nice; after all, it wasn't her fault she'd been assigned to me.  And she'd seemed competent enough at the scene.

"Sure, whatever.  Let me just finish this up."  I nodded and stood up to get ready.  A few minutes later we were out the front door.  We ate lunch at a small diner down the street; going over the case until our food was cold.  After we'd paid the check we decided to head over to the lab to get the preliminary results.  I realized as we left that it was after 1 and I hadn't called Char.  Apologizing to Alex, I dialed in the car.

"Hey," she answered, recognizing the number.

"Hey, kiddo.  Sorry I didn't call earlier, I got wrapped up in a case," I said, maneuvering skillfully through traffic.

"It's okay.  How's your day going?" she asked nonchalantly.  I loved it when she was relaxed enough with me to hold a two sided conversation.

"It's been okay.  I've been assigned a new partner."  I glanced over at Alex when I said it, wondering who she thought I was talking to.

"Really?  What's his name?"  Char sounded excited.  She'd never been overly fond of Stinson, and the prospect of meeting someone new on the squad seemed to appeal to her.

"Her name's Alex Wilding," I replied with a bit of emphasis on the female pronoun.

"They paired you with another woman?  That's awesome!  When can I meet her?"  I laughed at her enthusiasm.  It wasn't so long ago that she was reluctant to meet my previous partner.

"Well kiddo, maybe tomorrow you can come in with me.  How does that sound?"  I looked over at Alex again.  She was staring out the window, ignoring our conversation.

"Sounds great!" came the excited reply on the other end, and after saying goodbye we hung up.

Alex looked at me with a quirked eyebrow as I put the phone away.  I smiled and turned my attention back to the road.

"My daughter," I said, trying unsuccessfully to keep the pride out of my voice.

"Oh?" she asked in a strangled voice.  I grinned; most people reacted that way.

"Yeah, I adopted her a few months ago.  Her name's Char."  I looked over to try and gauge my new partner's expression.  She had a strong jaw, and intense black eyes that could see through plate steel.

"So, you got family?" I asked when she didn’t respond to the information about Char.  She looked surprised at the question.

"No, I’m single.  I take it you're married?"  I snorted at the idea.

"No," I said, pulling into the lot.  "Haven't met my mate yet."  She looked like she would've pursued the conversation, but the cool air of the morgue seemed to dampen any wish for conversation.

After waiting for half an hour for the report on the kid, we headed back to the station to talk to the parents.  My stomach was in a knot; there is nothing worse than telling a mother that her child is dead.  It's like watching someone fall into a million pieces right in front of your eyes; like pulling a person's heart out with forceps and no anesthetic; and the only thing that will dull the pain is gone.  I never really understood that feeling; I'd never known just how much one person could love another.  Char had changed that.  I dreaded the interview; the need to ask the hard questions and the ensuing investigation.

With a heavy heart I walked into the squad room with Alex behind me.  I saw the mother sitting near our desks, with her husband behind her.  I took a deep breathe, trying to prepare myself for what was to come, and stepped forward.

"Mr. and Mrs. Sweeting," I started, but couldn't continue when they turned tearstained faces too me.

"Maybe it would be best if we talked in private," Alex said, and motioned us toward an interview room.  I took the few seconds it took to walk over to compose myself; to push images of the body out of my head.

"Please, they said there was news about our son.  Have you found him?" the woman asked, her voice tortured.  I swallowed hard, trying desperately to keep my emotions out of my voice.

"I'm very sorry, Mrs. Sweeting, your son is dead."  Nothing could soften the truth, and I didn't insult them by trying.  But the look in her eyes…it was like cold fire that seemed to drown out everything else.  Her husband reached out slowly and took her hand.  It was like he'd taken away her last defense against the tears.  They streamed down her face; her shoulders shook as she sobbed into her husband's chest.  He looked at us with broken eyes, "How?" he asked simply.

"We believe your son was murdered.  We need to ask you and your wife some questions, but they can wait for a day," Alex said softly.

"No, I want to do everything I can, now," he said, anger in his voice.  I exchanged a look with Alex.  She nodded slightly, and walked over to the couple across the table.

"Mrs. Sweeting, how bout you come with me?  Let me get you something to drink," she said softly, and took the woman from her husband.

"Mr. Sweeting," I started to say when they'd left, "I'm so sorry for your loss."  He shook his head, as if denying my words.

"Let's just, just ask your questions," he said, his voice strained.  He seemed to be holding on by just a thread.

"When did your son go missing?" I asked, pulling a pad of paper and a pen toward me to take notes.

"Two nights ago," he said, looking at his hands.  "He stayed late at school to practice."

"He was involved in sports?" I asked.

"No, he played the trombone.  He was getting better."  I waited until the man had himself under control before continuing.

"When did you know he was missing?"

"He didn't call, and he wasn't at any of his friends' houses.  We checked.  He just, never came home."  He started sobbing, face buried in his hands.  I reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

"Why don't you go out and be with your wife.  We can continue in the morning."  He looked up at me with tear bright eyes and nodded silently.  I walked him out to Alex and his wife.  They embraced, and I assured them that we would call tomorrow.

After they left I turned to my new partner.  Some time during the day we'd created a connection that most people could only dream of with a partner.

"Does it ever…get any easier?" she asked with a  slight tremble in her voice.

"No.  But then, I don't think it should."  I met her black eyes.  She nodded, understanding what I was saying.

"Hey, it's after five, you want to call it a day?  We'll get a fresh start in the morning."  She nodded, but the empty look was still in her eyes.  I patted her shoulder, but didn't know how else to comfort her.  Instead I grabbed the few things I needed to get home, and started to leave.

"You going home?" I asked, turning back to the woman slouched at her desk.  She looked up.

"Naw, I was gonna spend some time looking over the case."

"Whatever."  I wasn't going to concern myself with her health habits, or lack there of.  A part of me felt bad for leaving her alone, but since she obviously didn't want company, there was nothing I could do.

I managed to beat the evening traffic, and made it home early.  Char was in the kitchen, getting things out for dinner.

"Hey kiddo," I said, dropping my things in the living room and walking into the kitchen.

"Hey," she replied.  "How was your day?"  I sighed and went to the fridge.  I stuck my head in and looked around for something to drink.  No alcohol, of course, but I found a bottle of root beer to sooth my hot throat.

"Well?" she asked, and I turned to find her standing over me with a  spatula in one hand, and a demanding look on her face.  It would've been hilarious if I hadn't been so depressed.

"It…I had to tell a couple that their fifteen year old son was murdered."  I usually tried to keep the hard parts of my job away from Char, but today I just needed to vent a little.  "God, she just feel apart…" I took a swig of my root beer, not looking at Char.  She came over and put a hand on my shoulder.

"Any leads?" she asked quietly.  I wondered briefly how she knew what to say, and how she made it sound so…comforting.

"No, we only caught it today.  Didn't even get a chance to interview the parents yet.  Hell of a way for my new partner to get her feet wet, eh?"

"Tell me about her," Char coaxed, sensing that I didn't want to talk about the case.  I shrugged.

"She's tall, black hair and eyes, she's single, can handle herself in the field.  She seems competent, but she over works herself."  I rattled off my observations as I'd been trained.

"You got all that after one day with her?" Char asked incredulously, turning to the stove where a pot of meat sauce bubbled slightly.

"Yeah."

"I guess I can't come in tomorrow then?"

"I don't think so, Char," I said with a sigh.  I'd explained to her early on that she couldn't be around if I knew we were going to be interviewing people.  "I'm sorry, I know you wanted to meet Alex."  I was suddenly exhausted, and didn't want to deal with anything else right now.

"When's dinner?"

"Just a few more minutes," Char said, distracted at the stove.

As promised, a few minutes later I helped her dish out the spaghetti for us, and set the plates on the table.  We ate in silence.

"How was your day?" I asked suddenly when I'd finished.

"Okay," she said, wiping her plate with a  piece of bread.

"Just okay?"

"Yeah, I finished a book, watched a movie; you know the usual stuff."

"Well, if you ever get bored, I'm sure we could figure out something for you to do."  She nodded, but didn’t suggest anything.

"You wanna watch a movie with me?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Sure."

"I'll get the kitchen cleaned up, why don't you go pick something out?"  She agreed, and I started to clear off the table.  I had just started to wash them in the sink when the phone rang.

"Char!" I called, my hands covered in soapy water.  "Can you get that?"  The ringing stopped a moment later, so I assumed she'd gotten it.  I wondered who would be calling this late at night.

"It's for you," Char said, holding the phone in one hand.  I twisted around and showed her my soapy hands.

"Who is it?"

"Your new partner."  I raised an eyebrow and turned the water on to rinse my hands off.

"Tell her I'll be just a moment."  Char nodded, and repeated what I'd said into the receiver.  I quickly dried my hands and reached for the phone.

"Hello?"

"It's Alex.  Sorry to be calling so late," she started.  I looked at the clock; it was seven.

"It's fine.  What's up?"

"I just read over the ME's report on Sweeting, and thought you might like to know that he was high when he died."  I swore.

"What was he on?" I asked, leaning against the counter.

"LSD.  Report says that there were lethal amounts in his system; if he hadn't been stabbed he'd've ODed."

"Son of a bitch," I muttered, pushing stray strands of hair out of my face.  "The DA'll just love this."

"It gets better," Alex said, and I sighed.

"Yeah?"

"From the looks of the needle marks on his body, he's been using for a while."

"God damn it!" I shouted and turned to punch the wall.  My knuckles split, but the pain didn't register.

"Crys?" Alex asked from the other end.  I let out a string of curses that would've made a sailor proud.  Char came in from the living room and stared at me.  I tried to contain my anger, but the damage was done.  She looked scared, and before I could do anything she ran to her room and closed the door.

"Damn it," I muttered.

"What's wrong?" Alex asked, sounding worried.

"Nothing," I said.  "Thanks for letting me know; we can deal with it in the morning.  I've got to go."  Without waiting for her to respond I hung up and put the phone down on the counter.

The Sweeting case was about to get interesting, and Char was upset that I'd gotten angry.  Her mother had been an angry drunk, and every time I lost my temper she got scared.  If I didn't do something to repair the damage, she'd be depressed for days, and it wasn't fair to make her do that for something that wasn't her fault.

Leaving the dishes in the sink, I walked slowly to her door and knocked softly.

"Char?"  No answer.  I knew the door was locked, but I tried anyway.

"Please, kiddo, let me in.  I'm not angry at you; Alex told me some bad news about our case and I lost it.  It had nothing to do with you, I promise.  Please let me in to explain."  Still no response.

"Char?"  I heard her shift on her bed, but no footsteps.

"I'm gonna go get some paper; I'll be right back."  With no other way of getting to her, I had found that slipping notes under her door worked.  I found my notebook and a pen, and sat down outside her door.

"I'm back," I told her, and started writing a note.

I'm sorry I yelled; the kid who was murdered was high on acid.  It means that our case is going to get a lot harder, and I don't want to tell his parents that he was doing drugs.  As a kid I'd always wanted someone to tell me the truth about something; so that's what I did with Char.  I folded the paper in half, and stuck it under the door.

"Please read the note," I said, and a few seconds later heard her walk across the room.

I leaned against the opposite wall and waited.  A minute later the paper appeared again.

Why did you yell?

I thought about it for a moment, wondering what she was asking.

Because I was afraid of his mother's reaction, and cause I think that he was probably killed because of the drugs, and it makes me angry that kids are dying for drugs.

It was as close to the truth as I could get.  I pushed the paper back under the door; wishing that I could talk with her; but knowing that she needed space right now.  The note came back.

You scared me.

"I know kiddo; I’m so sorry.  I'm not mad at you.  I'm not really mad any more at all," I said and held my breath.  Slowly the door opened and Char came out.  I could see tears on her face as I held my arms open to her.  She stepped over the threshold and collapsed into my embrace.  I held her close, cradled her against me, and let her cry onto my shoulder.

"You're safe kiddo, you're safe," I murmured into her hair over and over again.  After a while she stopped crying, and a few minutes after that the shakes stopped as well.

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to continue using my shirt for a tissue; I don't see any in the near vicinity," I said with a slight smile.  She laughed a little and sniffed.

"I'm so sorry," I apologized sincerely to her.

"I know," she whispered.  I held her for a moment longer, then let her pull away.  She wiped at her eyes and stood up.

"You still want to watch that movie?" I asked quietly, not sure if she was stable enough yet.

"I guess," she said, still whispering.  I stuck my hand up to her.

"Then give an old woman a hand up, eh?"  She laughed and helped me stand.  I exaggerated a groan, and pretended to hold my back.

"Stop complaining," she said as we walked to the living room.  "It could be a lot worse.  You could have arthritis."  I grinned and threw a pillow at her affectionately.  She caught it easily and lobbed it back to me.

"So, what're we watching?" I asked, settling into the couch.  Her first night with me, Char had claimed the easy chair as her own, and I'd never seen the point in trying to get it back.

"How bout Heartbreak Ridge?" she asked, putting the tape into the VCR.

"I didn't know I still had that," I said, grabbing the remote from the coffee table.  Char sat down without saying anything, and we started the movie.

Two hours later, when the movie was over, and after I'd tucked Char into bed, I sat back on the couch and flipped open a folder I'd brought home.  It was an open homicide investigation; my first case with the unit.  A twenty-two year old woman had been drowned in the Hutchison and left to be half-eaten by carrion birds before we got to her.  We'd never IDed her, or found out who wanted her dead.  It ate at me; the way the birds had eaten at her flesh, and every few months I reread the file; looking for a connection that I'd missed before.  I read through my notes until midnight, then got ready for bed.

I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, until two, when I finally managed into a fitful sleep.  Images of half-eaten corpses filled my dreams; their faces strangely clear.  I had the nightmare every time I read the file; each face belonged to the victim of an unsolved murder.  I twisted in my sleep, and woke with a start on the floor, a sharp pain in my head.

I'd fallen out of bed and hit my forehead on my dresser.  I reached up and felt a slight trickle of blood coming from the gash.  I sighed and walked to the bathroom in the dark.

When the door was closed I flipped the light on; wincing at the sudden brightness.  The cut wasn't as bad as I'd though; I rinsed it off and put a band aid on it.  It wasn't the first time I'd injured myself while sleeping; in fact, it was minor to some of the things I'd done as a kid.

I looked at the small clock on the counter; it's green display said it was almost five.  Time for me to get up.  I turned the light off and walked back to my room to get clothes for the day.

I picked out black slacks and a dark blue blouse, and pulled underwear out of the drawer.  Clothes in hand, I went back to the bathroom and showered.  The band aid on my forehead came off in the hot water, and I let it wash down the drain.  The water was tinted red for a moment, then the blood stopped.  I washed my hair, and was surprised at the sting on my knuckles.  I'd forgotten the split skin.  It hadn't hurt until now, and seemed to be making up for lost time.  My whole hand ached as I dried myself off and got dressed.

My eyes felt gritty with lack of sleep, but I forced myself to go through my routine.  I made coffee and drank a cup before waking Char briefly to tell her that I was leaving.  I gave her a quick hug, and a kiss on the cheek, and closed the door quietly behind me.  Grabbing my keys I walked out the front door.

The hot air on the street hit me like at wet blanket; it was suffocating, reaching it's wet fingers under my shirt and insinuating itself into every opening on my body.  I was sweating in moments.

It took me longer than usual to get to work today; the heat seemed to make the city slow down a little.  I longed for the snow we would have in a few months as I walked in the front doors.

"Parents are here, Crys, let's go."  I blinked at my partner and dropped my few things on my desk, getting ready for a long day.

"Ready."  I followed her to the interview room where the parents were waiting.  They sat, backs to the door, holding hands.  I swallowed hard.

"Mr. and Mrs. Sweeting," I started.  They turned and looked at me with hollow eyes.  "Thank you for coming in to talk to us.  I know how hard this can be."  I sat down across from them.  Alex stood for a moment longer, then pulled out a chair next to me.

"I know you only want to find the man who, who murdered—" Mrs. Sweeting's voice cracked, and I saw tears in her eyes.

"We just want some closure," her husband said, holding her close.

"You said yesterday that he stayed late at school to practice his trombone, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Do you know if anyone else was there with him?" Alex asked.  They both shook their heads.

"Did you know your son was doing drugs?" I asked gently, wishing there were an easier way to get the information.

"What?" Mrs. Sweeting gasped.  "My son would never do drugs!  I would know."  She broke down crying again.

"I'm very sorry, but we found a lethal dose of LSD in his system."

Another month passed, and Char started school.  We were both a bit leery about the prospect, though for different reasons.  I was thankful that I we lived near a decent public school; Char wouldn't have to take public transportation to get to school, and I wouldn't have to pay tuition to a closer one.  But all the same, the prospect of forcing my shy charge into school seemed cruel and unusual.  In our brief conversations about her past life she had told me horror stories about her childhood and her mother.  I wanted to protect her from as much pain as I could, and only my strong sense of civic duty forced me to acknowledge the fact that she had to go to school.

Char wanted nothing more than to hide under her bed on the first day of school, so I called in and told the captain I needed half the day off.  He agreed with a smile in his voice; he had raised three kids of his own, and told me that he'd inform Alex that I'd be late.

I went into Char's room, deciding that I needed to be as cheerful as possible to get her spirits up, no matter how stupid I thought this endeavor was.

"Hey kiddo, rise and shine," I said, walking in.  Char was a lump under the covers.  I sat down and gently rubbed her back.  She didn't respond.

"Come on kiddo, I know this is hard, but ya gotta get up and do it any way."  My heart broke when I saw tears on her face.  I felt like I was kicking a puppy.

"No, you don't know how hard this is, and I don't have to do it."  I almost laughed at the belligerence in her voice, but managed to keep it in.

"Hey, I've had first day's of school, too.  And yes, you do have to.  For one thing you need to get more of an education than sitting in the homicide squad room is going to give you, and for another, if you don't go, I go to jail.  And I don't think either of us wants that."  I tried to reason with her logical side; the side that knew that the adoption could fall through at any time in the next three months.

"Yeah, but you've never been teased about not having real parents," she muttered into her pillow.  Damn, I'd been hoping she'd miss that little detail.  I had held off on telling her about my past because I didn't want her to think that I'd adopted her to repay the system.

"Yes, they did," I said softly.  My quiet statement made her turn over and look at me.  I silently met her eyes.

"What?" she asked, almost plaintive.  I sighed and dropped my eyes.  I never liked this part, not with anyone.

"My parents were killed when I was three weeks old.  I've been in the system my whole life, Char.  The folk who adopted me never kept is a secret that I wasn't theirs, so I know how hard it is.  They had two other kids, as well, birth children, who made my life hell."  I looked up at her again, and didn't know what I saw in her face.

"Is that why you adopted me?" she asked, her voice even.  I had expected more tears, anger even, but this lack of emotion scared me.

"No," I said emphatically.  "I wanted a child, and I," I stopped, not sure how to say what I knew I wanted to.  "I've never wanted to protect someone, or love someone, as much as I do you, Char.  I couldn't love you more if I had given birth to you."  I reached out to touch her shoulder, and was relieved when she didn't pull away.

"Oh," she said, simply, and I chuckled.

"Oh?  That's all you've got to say?" I said, teasingly.

"Yeah.  I guess I'll have something to ponder in class today," she said nonchalantly, but I picked up on her plan.  I pulled her into a hug, and she wrapped her arms around me.

"Thank you," I whispered into her hair before I released her.

"Yeah, you too," she replied, and I didn't need to ask for what.  I knew.  She was honoured that I trusted her enough to tell her a secret that I kept near to my heart.  No one on the squad except the captain knew that I was adopted, and he only knew because it was in my file.

I got up and left the room to give Char privacy to get dressed.  I sat down in the kitchen and drank a cup of coffee.  When Char had eaten breakfast I walked with her the few blocks to the school, but was careful not to embarrass her too much by coming on campus with her.  Reminding her to be careful, and to call after school, I turned around and started walking home.  When I was sure her back was turned, I faced the school again and made sure she walked the final yards with no mishap.  My heart swelled with pride at her bravery.

I headed home, and changed into something more suitable for work, then went downtown.  Before heading in to the precinct I made a stop at a smallish jewelry shop, and after 15 minutes of browsing bought a small present for Char.  I smiled at the man who wrapped it up, and hummed as I drove to work.

Later that day, as I read through a file for the umpteenth time, trying to find something that would lead us to a killer, my cell phone rang.  I answered it without thinking.

"DeSuiesk."  I said, still absorbed in the file.

"Hey, it's me," Char said from the other end, and I immediately dragged myself out of the murder case.

"Hey kiddo!  How was your first day?" I asked enthusiastically.  Alex's head popped up.  She and Char had bonded from the first moment; they would sometimes spend hours on end playing endless games of Monopoly and talking about everything from the latest Yankees game to global warming.

"It was, it went okay.  I think I might have made a friend," she said, almost shyly.

"Char, that's wonderful!  That's really great, kiddo.  I hope it works out."  I knew I sounded overenthusiastic, so I changed the subject.  "How're your classes?"

"They're okay.  My history teacher is a total spaz, but he's awesome.  And my algebra teacher is totally tight.  She's like, 80, but she's really funny.  So's my drama teacher.  English sucks, it's totally boring, and PE is stupid.  I've got a study hall, then I end with home ec.  Talk about a waste of time.  We're going to learn how to sew; how lame is that?"  I laughed.  It sounded like Char was taking to school like a perfectly normal teenager.

"It sounds wonderful, kiddo.  I'm so glad it's gonna work.  How about homework?"

"I've got like, a ton of things for you to sign, but other than that, nothing."  I could hear the fridge door open and close, and figured she must be making a snack.

"Well, I'll be sure to warm up my writing hand before I come home," I said with a smile.  She laughed.

"I'll probably be home by sixish.  What do you want to do for dinner?" I asked.

"Can we cook?  And invite Alex over."  I grinned at my partner who was hanging on to my every word.

"I'll ask her.  Need me to stop by the store on my way home?"  I had discovered that Char had a natural talent for cooking; and while I myself couldn't make a meal without a microwave to save my soul, I was more than competent to stand out of the way and read a recipe.

"Nope, I think we've got enough of everything.  Six you said?"  I murmured an affirmative, and we hung up a few moments later.

"So?" asked Alex impatiently.

"She loves about half her classes, hates the rest, thinks Home Ec is a waste of time, and she might have a friend."  I positively glowed with motherly pride.

"That's wonderful!"  Alex exclaimed, mimicking me.

"I know.  Oh, and she wants you to come over for dinner.  You'd better," I threatened, "She's cooking, and I don't want to be stuck with leftovers for the rest of the week."  Alex grinned and agreed to come home with me.  We reluctantly went back to work.  After three hours of absolutely no leads, we were about ready to pull out our hair.

"Hey, let's call it a night," I said to my dark haired partner.  "We're not getting anywhere, and I, for one, am getting very hungry.

Alex agreed, and we grabbed our coats.  I patted the pocket to make sure the package was still there, and we drove to my place in our separate cars.

I got home first, and quickly ran up the stairs to our door.  I pulled my keys out, and unlocked it.  I walked in to find Char dancing around the kitchen, music blasting out of the tiny boom box we'd bought soon after she'd moved in.  The kitchen was a disaster, but it smelled wonderful.

Dumping my stuff on the couch, I went over to the CD player and turned the volume down a bit.  Char turned around from the stove, and smiled at me.  I walked over and gave her a huge bear hug.

"I'm so proud of you," I said, then let her get back to the pan on the stove.  Grabbing a bottle of root beer out of the fridge, I leaned on the counter to watch her work her magic.

"So, is Alex coming?" she asked over the sound of sizzling something's and the music.

"Yup.  She should be here any minute," I said.  Right on que a knock came from the front door.  I answered it to find Alex standing outside.  I ushered her in, and watched as she too hugged Char, then reached in to the fridge for something to drink.  In just a short month she had become a familiar instillation in our home; sometimes spending the entire weekend with us in the small apartment.  It was amazing, really, how quickly my family had grown to include two such wonderful people.  I had a daughter whom I respected and loved more that I'd ever thought possible, and a partner who was on the fast track to becoming my best friend.  Life was very good.

We ate together at the kitchen table, laughing and talking the whole time.  The food was, as always, exceptionally good, and both Alex and I complimented Char often. We were just contemplating a half game of Monopoly when I remembered the box in my coat pocket.  Excusing myself from the table for a moment, I retrieved it and carried it back.

I presented it to Char with a flourish, and she squealed in delight.  She made quick work of the brown wrapping paper, but slowed when she found the box inside.  When she looked up to me for reassurance, I nodded, and watched her face closely as she opened the box and pulled out the silver charm bracelets I'd bought for her.  It's sole charm was a replica of the shoe used in Monopoly.  Her favorite marker.

I could see tears in her eyes as she came around the table to give me a hug.

"Happy first day," I said when I could breath.  She had learned how to give bone crushing hugs from me early on.

"Thank you.  I'll treasure it.  Mom."  She again buried her face in my shoulder, and I sat for second, not responding, as the single syllable sank into my brain.  Then my arms picked themselves up and hugged her back, tightly.  It was one thing to know that this girl child relied on me, and respected me, and even loved me, but quite another to be called mom.  I had never expected it; never let myself hope for Char to call me mom.  I was almost glad when she released me; I was afraid I was going to burst with love if something didn't change soon.

"So, are we gonna play or not?" she asked impishly.  We busied ourselves with the dishes for a bit, then I had a moment of privacy when my partner and my daughter got the game out.  I wiped at my eyes a little, and helped them set the board up with delight.

We played until 10, when I shooed Alex out, saying that we all needed to go to bed.  I helped Char clip the bracelets on her wrist then, and kissed her between the eyes.

Once she was ready for bed, I came and tucked her in.  We embraced, then I went to my own room, and shut the door.  Methodically I cleaned my gun, and set it by my bed.  We had talked at length about it even before the adoption was final; I was big on gun safety, and knew that curiosity kills.  I'd even gone so far as to take her to a shooting range so that she knew everything there was to know about the 9 millimeter Glock.  I brushed my teeth next, and pulled an old t-shirt over my head.  Getting under the blankets, I sighed.  There was nothing I loved more than getting into bed at the end of the day.  As a child, it meant that I had survived another day of being alone, as an adult, it meant that I'd survived another day on the streets.  It was a wonderful feeling; heavy blankets settling over you, and soft sheets under you.  It was the safest place I knew.

We quickly settled into a routine.  I woke Char up every morning before I left, and she called my cell just before she left for school.  I trusted her to get to school on time, and she never let me down.  When she got home in the afternoon, she called me again, and we made plans for dinner.  On the rare occasion that I needed to work late, I called our neighbor, who would look in on Char from time to time.  I think she enjoyed the human contact, though Char reported that she smelled funny, and had only two real teeth.

After she'd been in school for two weeks, I found her another charm; a tiny book.  She had discovered a love of reading this year; one that only a fool would dispel.  I bought her a library card, and she would often ask permission to take a taxi down town to the huge public library with the stone lions guarding its books.  I let her with a twinge of fear, but quelled it when I saw the look in her eyes.  It would do me no good to worry about her every second of the day; and even if I did, that didn't mean she couldn't take care of herself in a big city.

Alex came to dinner almost every night, and often stayed for the weekends as well.  I was surprised at how close we were growing.  I'd never had any really close friends, but her senses of humor and justice were hard not to like.  We would sometimes sit up all night, talking about our lives and our shared job like lifelong buddies.  We made a great team on the job, and at one point the captain had called me into his office to tell me so.  We were doing an outstanding job, he informed me, and he was proud of me for putting my misgivings aside and giving her a chance.  As I thought about it, I'd never really been all that upset about having a female partner, it was just all the change over such a short period of time had thrown me for a bit of a loop.  Alex was a great partner, and I trusted her with my life.  Which was a good thing in our line of work.  I hadn't caught a really bad case in months, but knew that if it came to it, my black eyed partner would have my back no matter what.  It was reassuring.

I fell asleep soon after that thought, and it must have been all the contemplation of Alex that caused my dream that night.

I was sitting in a bar, or maybe it was the squad room, with Alex, and we were talking and drinking.  There was music playing, and she asked me to dance.  Or maybe I asked her.  Then we were on the dance floor; all alone, and she was moving against me, and I felt heat through my whole body.  It was like nothing I'd ever known.  I woke as she moved her hips against my body; gasping for breath, and sweating.  My body was on fire, and I didn't know why.  I decided it was best to just go back to sleep, but I lay on my back for a while before the darkness claimed me again.  In the morning I turned the water in my customary shower as low as I could stand, and let the freezing stream erase the dream from my mind.

Before long it was winter, and Char and I were shopping for a winter coat for her.  She had grown considerably in the last month, and was now a good few inches taller than me.  She had also turned fifteen, two days before Thanksgiving.  We had celebrated her birth with Alex, and I had given her another charm.  This one was the head of a leopard; it's ears perked up and it's eyes were gleaming chips of ruby.  Alex got her New York-Opoly, and swore that she would eventually win a game against the teenager.  Char had grinned and replied, "You'll only win if I let you."

We had invited Alex to spend Thanksgiving with us, but she begged out, saying that she would be in big trouble with her family if she didn't return home for the holidays.  We sighed, and set about planning a feast that would feed us for a month.  Before we ate we each said three things we were thankful for.  My first thought was Char, and when I said so she blushed.  Alex was next, then fairness.  I had contemplated saying something funny, but it didn't seem to fit the mood.

Char was next, and what she said brought tears to my eyes.

"I'm thankful for my new life, for my new mom, and for my friends."  I squeezed her hand, and told her that I was glad she had friends, too.  We sat in silence for a moment, then dug into the food on the groaning table.  We ate ourselves to stuffedness, as Char put it, then diluted our minds with New York-Opoly and chick flicks.  We went to bed contented.

The next day I had to return to work, and Char decided to come with me.  Alex had pointed out to me that it was somewhat odd for a fifteen year old to be so enthralled with the police, but I laughed and told her that Char just liked to spend time with me and the squad.  It was true.  They still treated her like their own.  Not that many people would be in the office today.  I was starting to pay for all the 'sick' leave I'd taken, and had agreed to come in during both big holidays when most other folk were home.  Char understood, and was eager to come in with me.

I worked on paperwork for the most part, and when no call came in for a scene by lunchtime, I told the desk sergeant that I was going home, but to call me if anything came up.  Char and I went out to lunch, then home. We watched Who Framed Roger Rabbit for the hundredth time, and went out to dinner.  All in all, it was a pretty boring day.

Alex was back in town after that, and Char stayed home to work on homework.  She was diving in to her history studies, and I had been delighted to see her grades were all A's.  I wasn't sure how she did it; I'd never been able to maintain much more than a C average, but she always did her homework, and seemed to enjoy school.  She still had bad days, when something reminded her what she referred to as her past life, or when life just got to be too much, but over all she seemed to be a bright, happy teenager.  It was like a miracle to me.

When we first met, she was a closed, reclusive child who needed attention and love so desperately, yet didn't know where or how to get it.  Molly had put us in a room together, and I was afraid she was going to attack me.  I tried at first to treat her like a living victim, but when that didn't work, I made a bold move and started talking to her like a pissed off adult.  It worked.  After she'd calmed down, we'd had a wonderful conversation about politics, and I had known then that I wanted her to be willing to let me adopt her.  When I first learned about her mother, and the abuse she endured, I was ready to go out and kill the woman, but knew that it would solve nothing.  The fact that Char was now calling me Mom was testament to the fact that she had given up on her mother returning, and that she wanted to start again.  I was proud of her for being strong enough to make the changes, and in my frank moments, I was proud of myself for being there for her.  It felt good, to be able to change a person like that.  To help them grow, and change, and all that good stuff.

Alex came over again that evening, and we all hung out together like a family.  It was normal; it was how life was supposed to be, but I couldn't stop thinking about the dream I had had.  I didn't know what to make of it, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop thinking about the feeling of Alex against my body.  I was acutely aware of her body and mine as we ate dinner; and of how we seemed to complete each other.  It seemed like only yesterday that I was testing her strength with a handshake, and yet we were like yin and yang.  We knew what the other was going to say before she said it, and we were dynamite in the interrogation room.  We played off each other, and I loved it.  Our friendship had grown thanks to Char, who had insisted that I invite my partner over every chance I could.  They were of kindred spirits, and Alex became almost like a father figure to Char.  I was surprised to feel no jealousy towards her; after all, I couldn't do everything.

We finished a game of Monopoly after dinner, then retired to the living room.  Alex sat next to me on the couch, while Char took her chair.  It was where we always sat, but tonight it felt different.  Alex seemed to be sitting closer to me than usual; and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.  I tried to take deep breaths, to calm myself, but my body would not relax.  I didn't understand what was going on, and it scared me.  I turned the TV on, wanting a distraction, and groaned internally when both Alex and Char insisted that I turn it off.  I tried to hold the remote away from them, but Alex leaned over and plucked it from my suddenly limp hand.  She grinned at her easy defeat, and I felt my head swim.  Was I sick?  What was happening to my body?

"Mom?  Are you okay?" Char asked from her chair.  Apparently I wasn't doing as good a job of hiding my condition as I thought I was.

"Yeah, I'm fine kiddo," I said lamely.  Alex reached out to feel my forehead, and I felt almost dizzy at her proximity.

"Char's right, you don’t look so good," she said, but I flinched away from her gentle hand.

"I said, I'm fine," I reiterated, pulling away, aware of the concerned eyes on me.  I tried to smile, "I'm just a bit tired.  I think I'm going to go to bed."  I stood up slowly, trying to hide whatever it was that I was feeling.

"It's Friday, would it be all right if I stayed the night?  Just in case you need anything," Alex asked.  God, I can't be anywhere near you, my brain screamed.  You can't possibly stay the night.

"Yeah, that's fine," my mouth replied.  "Goodnight, Char.  I'll see you in the morning."  I kissed her goodnight, and smiled at her worried look.

"I really am fine," I said as she hugged me, "Just tired is all.  Nothing a little sleep can't take care of."  She smiled back at me as I retreated, and I could here the two of them talking as I prepared for bed.

I was tired, but sleep wouldn't come.  All I could think about was Alex.  Alex in the precinct.  Alex at a scene; her hair falling into her eyes as she examined a body.  Alex playing Monopoly with Char.  Alex, Alex, Alex.  Finally sleep claimed me, but again I dreamed of my partner.

We were alone somewhere, and I was sitting close to her.  Our legs brushed together, and I felt fire rush up my body.  Then we were sitting on my living room sofa, kissing.  I gasped and sat up; wide awake.  My subconscious was not one for subtleties.  While I had been dancing around the fact that I was attracted to this woman, it told me in no uncertain terms that I wanted to be with her.

I had, of course, dated in college, but it was never anything serious.  I had never really thought about sex; I had been taught the basics at school, but it never seemed to appeal to me.  While all the other kids my age were groping in the backseat, I was off watching cop shows and planning the perfect crime.  Or rather, how to crack the perfect crime.  Relationships had never seemed worth it.  Way too much emotional baggage, and for what?  A smelly football player?  Or a pale skinned nerd who didn't know the first thing to do with a girl if he ever got one?  I've always like to be in control of situations, and when I'm not, I either take it, or leave.  It's survival for me.

So as I lay in bed, sweating and thinking about my dreams of Alex, I tried to figure out ways to control the situation.  Obviously I couldn't control my own body, but there were other ways.  Char was attached to Alex, or I'd simply stop inviting her over.  But there was no way I was going to pull away one of Char's supports.  I fell asleep thinking about my problem.  My last thought was to wonder if this was what love is like.  I didn't remember it in the morning, which was probably a good thing.

I woke late, sun was streaming in the window.  I lay under the blankets, not wanting to leave the warm cocoon.  I finally ran out of excuses to stay in bed, and threw the covers off with a flourish.  I shuddered as the cold air brushed my skin, and quickly put a robe on over my sleep shirt.  I pulled my tangled hair back into a ponytail, and slipped into a pair of fuzzy slippers.  I yawned hugely as I opened the door, and shuffled down the hall to the bathroom.  I splashed some cold water on my face to wake me up a bit, and dragged a brush through my hair.  It didn’t help much.

After my short beautification, I followed my nose to the kitchen, where Alex was sitting with a cup of coffee, looking obscenely awake and cheerful.  She smiled at me as I walked over to the coffee pot.

"You look like you didn't get a minute of sleep last night," she said, cheerfully.  I grunted.

"Don't talk to me," I said, and gulped at the hot coffee.  She laughed.  We had quickly established that I was not functional until at least my second cup of coffee, and usually required a hot shower to get my brain working in the morning.  I sat down next to her, and buried myself in the steaming mug.  After it was drained, and another was half gone, I perked up a bit enough to realize that Char was still in bed.  She never slept in.

"Where's Char?" I asked, my voice still husky with sleep.  Alex jerked a bit, then smiled.

"She's still in bed.  We were up pretty late last night, talking and such."  She grinned at me.  I smiled back, and pried myself out of the chair to shuffle to Char's door.  I opened it quietly and poked my head in.  Sure enough, she was curled up under the blankets.  I watched for a second to make sure she was breathing, then quietly retreated.  I could have watched her peaceful rest for the whole day, but that tended to wake her up.

Coming back into the kitchen, I refilled my mug, and sat down with a sigh.  Alex looked up from the paper.

"Problems?" she asked, and I almost shuddered.  Yes, I thought, But nothing I can talk to you about.

"No," I said lamely, trying to think of an excuse.  "You guys kept me up last night."  It wasn't exactly true, though Alex had been the cause of my insomnia.

"Sorry," she said, not looking apologetic at all.  She ran a hand through her short hair, and I stared as she stretched her arms high above her head.  She was still wearing her pjs, a long silk shirt, and matching bottoms.  It amused me that she actually wore silk pajamas, and when I had brought it up with her, she shrugged and told me they were warm.

"So, did you two come up with any plans for today?" I asked, desperately trying to stop staring.  Her body was long and lithe, and she was sitting with her legs stretched out and her arms folded behind her head.  She didn’t respond for a moment.

"Yeah, we had some ideas.  Nothing that involves you, though.  We were planning on doing some Christmas shopping."  I raised an eyebrow.

"Christmas shopping?" I asked for clarification.  She nodded, grinning.

"Alex, it's not even December!" I exclaimed.  "Hell, it's barely past Thanksgiving, and you're going Christmas shopping!"  I was hamming it up a bit.

"Yup," she said, still grinning.  I shook my head, a bemused look on my face.  So my partner was taking my daughter shopping.  I wondered for a second where they'd go, but by the time Char got up, I was resigned to the idea.

"Hey kiddo.  Glad you could join us this morning."  She smiled and brushed hair out of her eyes.

"You're cheerful this morning," she said, grabbing the orange juice from the fridge and pouring herself a glass.

"Well, unlike some of us, I've been up for an hour," I said as she took a seat.  I smiled at her peaceful face.

"So, Alex, have you told her what we're doing today?" Char asked a few moments later.  I groaned.

"Yup.  She needed some convincing, but I won her over."  Alex hugged Char around the shoulders and they both grinned at me.  I shook my head.

"I think I'm being double teamed here," I complained with a smile.  "So, when are you guys going to get out of my hair?"  They traded a look, then Alex said, "As soon as we get dressed."  Char ran to her room, and Alex moved to the living room with a bit more dignity.  I followed her, like a moth drawn to flame.  She smiled at me as she pulled clothes from her bag.

"Ya know," I said, leaning on the doorframe, "You could put some of that stuff in my closet.  It's not like I need the space."  She looked up at me from the floor with an odd look on her face.

"Thanks," she said, and stood up.  I led her into my room, and sat on the bed while she hung her shirts up.  I watched her back muscles move under the silk top, and wondered how they would feel under my hand.  I tried to push the image out of my head, but it wouldn't leave.  I stared as she methodically hung up each t-shirt so that they were all facing the same way.  I smiled a bit as she made sure they were all properly hung, but wiped it off my face as she turned around to face me.

"Mind if I change in here?"  It took me a second to figure out what she was saying, and I blushed when it made it through my brain.  I blushed, and moved quickly out of the room.

Char was waiting none to patiently in the kitchen.  She turned to me as I walked in.

"Hey," I said, and tried to drink out of my empty mug.  She smirked.

"Hey yourself," she said.

"Alex'll be out in a second.  I guess I should give you some cash."  She nodded eagerly, and I laughed.  She was so much a teenager; it amazed me.  I had expected her to be reclusive, and closed; not interested in so-called normal teenaged things, but being in school, with a stable home life seemed to open her up like a relaxed clam.  It was incredible to watch.

I grabbed my wallet from the counter, and pulled out two twenties.

"I hope this is enough, cause it's all I've got.  Tell Alex that I'll pay her back if you wind up spending more."  I handed her the cash, and was surprised when she gave me a peck on the cheek.

"Thanks Mom, you're awesome."  I grinned at her.  "I'd better get a pretty spectacular present," I warned with mock sternness.  She laughed.

A few minutes later Alex came out, and soon after, they left, arm in arm.  I settled down in front of the television, and tried to concentrate on Law and Order.  But Detective Briscoe's heated chase of the suspect couldn't hold my attention for long, and I was soon pacing the apartment like a caged lion.  I felt restless.  I tried to look at a file I'd brought home, but after I had read the same paragraph 5 times and still didn't know what it said, I gave up.  Finally I changed into shorts, and, clipping my cell phone onto the waist band, I left the apartment to go jogging.  I locked the door behind me, and put the keys in a pocket.  I warmed up on the stairs, and by the time the cold November air hit my bare legs, I was already sweating.  I took a left, and started running toward the park.

My breath was ragged at first, but I soon evened it out.  As I stretched my legs out to pound the concrete I blanked my mind; concentrating solely on my body and my breathing.  I felt like I could run forever.

I finally slowed near a vendor selling bottled water, and bought enough to keep be going.  I thanked him, and jogged in place while he gave me change.  I took the bottle and held it in my hands for a while, trying in vain to warm the water.  When it didn't feel quite so freezing, I took small sips so as not to cramp my stomach.

After a short walk, I started running again, slower this time.  I had been out for at least two hours when my phone rang.  I stopped in mid-stride and pulled it off my belt.

"DeSuiesk," I gasped.

"Crys?" I heard Alex ask from the other end.  "It's Alex.  Are you all right?"  I gulped cold air into my starved lungs.

"Yeah," gasp, "I've just been running," gasp.  "What's up?"  I tried to breath more quietly.

"Char and I were thinking of grabbing some lunch; thought you might like to join us."  I looked at my watch.  Sure enough, it was past noon.  My stomach growled, letting me know in no uncertain terms that it wanted food.

"Sure, I'd love to.  Where are you guys?"  She told me, and I looked around to figure out where I was.

"I'm about 20 minutes away.  Where do you want to meet?"  We set a time and place, and I set off running again.  By the time I reached the small restaurant I was out of breath, but relaxed.  I smiled at Char and Alex who had waited for me.

"Hey," I said, sitting down and looking at the menu in front of me.  "How was your shopping?"  I listened with half an ear as Char told me about their expeditions.  We talked about our plans for Christmas; and when lunch came we ate hungrily.  Afterwards, Alex and Char left for yet another store, and I started to walk home.  The cold wind whipped around my bare legs, and before long I was shivering.  It was too late to start running; my legs were stiff and sore, so I endured the cold, and tried to distract myself with thoughts of warm blankets and hot chocolate.  My fingers and toes were numb by the time I reached our apartment building, and I'd received many odd looks for my less than appropriate clothing.  Teeth chattering, I unlocked my front door, and immediately found a blanket to wrap around myself.  Once I'd stopped shivering I started heating milk for hot chocolate, and pulled sweats on  over my shorts.  I let my hair out of it's tie, and pulled a sweater over my head.  Once the milk was warm enough, I added the brown powder, and sat down on the couch to finish warming up.

After I had finished the sweet drink, I curled up on the couch and closed my eyes.  Despite sleeping in, I was tired.  The room faded in and out a couple of times, then I was out.

I woke up slowly; aware first of my warm body, then of the sounds around me.  I sighed at the smell of frying onions, and turned onto my back.  Someone was gently rubbing my feet, and I slowly opened my eyes to find Alex sitting at the other end of the couch; watching the muted television and absentmindedly massaging my feet.  I smiled at her relaxed expression, and almost groaned aloud when she moved her hands to my cramped calf muscles.  She looked up at the noise, and quickly pulled her hands away; blushing.

"Don't stop," I muttered.  Her lips quirked into a small smile, and her hands returned to their gentle ministrations.  I sighed, and let my eyes slide closed again.  I was warm, and relaxed, and there would be good food to eat soon.

"How long did I sleep?" I asked lazily.

"I don't know, but you were lying there, snoring, when we got home around 4.  It's half past six now."  I groaned.  There was no way I was going to get back to a regular sleep schedule by Monday.

Alex moved her hands gently against my legs; pushing into each knot with strong fingers.  I think I dozed off, because the next thing I knew, she was gently shaking me awake, saying that it was time for dinner.  I moaned, and tried to roll over; forgetting that I was on the couch, and fell onto the floor.  Alex, instead of trying to catch me, jumped out of the way, and stood, staring down at me; laughing.  I glared up at her, not amused.  Char came into the living room, looking worried.  When she saw Alex laughing, and me on the floor, trying not to crack a smile, she retreated back to her sanctum to finish getting our meal together.  I hauled myself up off the floor, trying to stay mad at Alex and failing.  The dark haired detective was guffawing without shame, and didn't even have the strength to help me stand.  I glared at her, but the effect was ruined by my smile.

We sat down at the table without further incident.  Dinner was excellent as usual, and I had three servings of the pan seared pork.  I was ravenous after my long run.  After dinner, Alex and Char pulled out the well weathered Monopoly board, and set up the game.  I groaned, not wanting to test my mind against the two pros tonight.  After a few minutes in which I managed to lose most of my money, I excused myself to the bathroom.

I splashed cold water on my face, and stared at my dripping reflection.  My eyes were red, and my face looked harrowed.  I knew for sure that something was about Alex was effecting me, but I didn't understand it at all.  It was like she had infected me; my mind and my body were controlled by her.  It scared me, and excited me at the same time.  I didn't understand it; didn't ask for; but God, I wanted it.  I didn't have words for what I was feeling, but the emotion was there all the same.

I finally left the bathroom, and walked reluctantly back to the kitchen, where Alex and Char were contentedly playing their game.  I retreated quietly, and went into the living room to flip through the channels.

After finding a good Disney cartoon to zone to, I muted the TV and sat back to relax.  It didn't work.  I was now lying with my head where Alex had been sitting a few hours earlier, and the pillows still carried a hint of her scent.  I buried my face in the pillow, and started thinking about life.

I could hear Char and Alex laughing in the other room, and wanted desperately to join them, but every time I was around Alex I lost control of my body, and it scared me.  Finally they tired of the game, and moved into the living room with me.  Alex sat at my feet again, and as we watched a movie together, she started rubbing them.  Her touch sent fire racing through my body, but my muscles were so stiff that I couldn't say no.  I was trembling by the time she released me; and when I looked up at her face from under my lashes I saw a pale pink blush on her cheeks.  I didn’t want to consider what it meant; didn't want to face my feelings and my fears.  Not yet.

The rest of the weekend passed normally, but for my increasingly heated dreams.  I was grateful when Alex finally left on Sunday, claiming she needed to do laundry at her apartment.  Char pulled her homework out, and I sat with her while she worked; reading through a case file.

It was a relief on Monday to return to schedule.  I half dreaded, half looked forward to work.  All because of Alex.  I didn't want to be around her; yet when I couldn't see her, I felt sick.  I needed her in a way I didn't think should be possible.  I was intoxicated by her; and felt myself drawn to her dry humor and dark eyes.  Those eyes!  They could be as hard as diamond; in sighting fear in hardened killers; then at a moments notice, become warm and comforting.  And the way she looked sometimes; like there were fires in the pits of her jet black eyes.

We were called to a scene first thing.  I drove, as usual, and for the first time in the past week, I could focus on something other than Alex.  The 'scene' turned out to be a mass grave of 15 young girls.  The medical examiner was already in the hole, looking over each body.  Some were half decomposed; others looked fresh.  They all looked younger than 10, and whoever had killed them had cut off their hands and knocked out their teeth.  After 13 years on the job, I had developed an iron hard stomach, but the mutilated bodies laid out before me made me want to puke.  I heard Alex mutter something, then run off toward our car.  I watched her for a second, concerned, but the ME caught my attention.

"Detective, I think you need to see this!" he called, waving at me.  I gingerly made my way down the ramp that had been formed, making sure to not disturb the scene too much, and squatted next to Joe.  He was holding up the skirt one of the more recent girl's was wearing.  She had no underpants on, and her entire genital region had been sewn up.

I looked at the ME, aghast.

"Have you ever seen anything like this?" I asked, thinking hard.  He shook his head, and went back to work.

I climbed back out of the pit, breathing hard through my mouth to try and ignore the smell.  It seemed to cling to me; my hair, my skin, my clothes.  I looked around for Alex, and found her standing with the woman who had called 911 after seeing a human hand poking out of the dirt.  I walked over, and stood behind the semi-hysterical woman, trying to catch Alex's eye.  Finally she looked up, and excused herself from the woman.

"Hey," she said, walking over.  She looked pale.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'll be fine.  It was just…all those bodies…"  She trailed off, her eyes looking haunted.  I reached out and gently squeezed her shoulder, offering her silent comfort.

"We need to call sex crimes in on this," I said, all business.  She looked over at me, confused.

"They've been, uh, sewn together."  I gestured to where, not sure how else to say it.  She looked horrified, just as I had, and nodded mutely.  I called it in; and 15 minutes later, two more detectives were on the scene.  I was talking to the captain at the time; and watched as they were briefed by Alex.  She had recovered a bit; but was still pale.

"I want you two to work with this one, too, DeSuiesk.  15 dead girls; that's gonna hit the press hard; we need everyone on this we can get."  Great.  That was going to go over well.  Sex crimes was notorious for handling everything they did in-house; they didn't like interference from anyone else.

"Their captain has already briefed them," he was saying, "And they're willing to work with y'all.  So play nice."  He hung up, and I walked over to my partner and the two people I could only assume were the other detectives.

"DeSuiesk, homicide," I introduced myself.  "Our captains seem to be in cahoots on this one; want us to work it together."  I stood by Alex, trying not to seem too imposing.

"I'm Cobbler, my partner, Kledowski, Special Victims," the taller of the two detectives made their introductions.  The shorter man was obviously Russian, and more than a bit overweight.

"We're fine with that, but we interview all suspects and any kids," the Russian, Kledowski, said as his partner headed over to the mass grave.

We stayed at the scene for a while longer, then headed over back to the station to start looking for IDs on the girls.

"I don't like those two," Alex said as we drove away.  I agreed, but pointed out to her that we needed to get along, at least for now.  We didn’t talk after that; each lost in our own thoughts.  I couldn't get their faces out of my head; their toothless mouths, and handless arms.  The ME said that it looked like their hands were severed post-mortem, which was a small blessing, but he'd know more after the autopsies.  Which were going to take a while; even with extra help.

We briefed the captain when we got back, then sat down at our computers to search the Missing Persons database for possible matches.  I got 8 of the vics, Alex took the other seven, and we started our search.

After two hours, I had a possible match for only one of my girls; the others had struck out.  Alex had faired a little better with possible matches for 3 of her girls.  We grabbed our coats and headed out to talk to the families.

After the first interview with the parents of my match, we both felt sick.  The girl's name was Melissa Haverin, she was 8 when she was abducted 3 months ago.  Now she was dead.  At least she had a name, though; the others might never be identified.

The next door we knocked on was answered by a 15 year old boy, who's pale face was tear stained.  His little sister had disappeared only a week ago; his mother was in bed he said, but he'd get her.  We waited downstairs while he went to get her; looking around a little.  I found a picture of a small girl on a swing set with her brother pushing her, and held it up to Alex.  She compared it to the picture of the dead girl, and sighed.  It was a match.

"Detectives, my son tells me that you may have found my little Cassandra."  The woman descending the stairs with help from her son was rail thin and sickly.  It was amazing what a missing child could do to a person.  I suddenly thought of what I would do if Char went missing, but emphatically pushed the idea away.

"Mrs. Manson, I'm very sorry, but we believe your daughter is dead," I said as gently as I could once she was seated.  Her son had gone to the kitchen to get her something to drink.  She looked at me with horrified eyes, not wanting to believe what I was telling her; what she knew was true.

I was about to get up, to offer her some sort of comfort, when she screamed.  She fell off her chair, and started pounding the ground, wailing.  There was a crash from the kitchen, and the boy came running out.  He slumped against the couch when he saw his mother.  I could see the knowledge that his sister wasn't coming home painted on his face.

Alex was kneeling by the mother, so I moved to the boy, offering comfort.  He just stared at his mother, then looked at me.

"She's dead, isn't she?" he asked, his voice flat and dull.  I nodded, not sure what to say.  He seemed to stare off into the distance for a moment, then shook his head slightly.

I caught him as he fainted; staggering a bit at his weight.  I gently lay him out, checking that he was breathing, and that his heart was beating.  Alex was helping the mother sit down, but was at my side in a minute; then calling in to the radio a moment later, ordering an ambulance.  Behind us, the mother wailed louder.  I felt overwhelmed.

Finally the bus came, and took the boy, Henry, to the hospital.  The paramedics took his mother, Mary, as well, to treat her for shock.  Alex and I were left outside the house with two more families to visit.

"Might as well get it done with," I said, trying to focus on something.  My stomach was heaving, and I silently ordered it to lay still.

"Yeah," Alex sighed.  I didn't need to look at her to know just how much this was affecting her.

We got into the car, and drove to the next address.  It struck out; the girl who'd gone missing didn't match any of our pictures.  I hadn't been to hopeful; their daughter had been missing for almost a year.

The last house was unremarkable, and we climbed the stairs with heavy hearts.  I pushed the doorbell, and was surprised not to hear anything from inside.  I knocked on the door for good measure.

A woman answered, and watched us intently as Alex introduced us.  She led us inside silently, and motioned for us to sit.  We did, and I explained that I needed for her to look at a disturbing picture to help us in our search for her daughter, was there anyone else home to be with her?  She shook her head, and, still silent, beckoned for the picture.  I reluctantly held it out to her, worried that she too would break down.  Instead she reached a trembling hand out to touch the mutilated face.  Tears coursed down her face, and her lips moved silently.  She pulled her hand away, and covered her face; shoulder shaking in silent sobs.

"Mrs. Kimble, I'm so sorry for your loss," Alex said, her voice gentle.  No response.  "Can we call anyone for you?" she asked.  Mrs. Kimble didn't so much as twitch.  Suddenly it made sense.  The lack of doorbell; the silence; the way she always watched our faces as we talked.

I touched her shoulder, and when she looked up at me, I signed to her:

"Mrs. Kimble, I'm so sorry for your loss," I said aloud as I did it, so that she could read my lips and so that Alex knew what I was saying.

"Angie was my life," she signed back with trembling hands, still crying.  I reached out, and she collapsed into my arms.  I held her gently as she sobbed, releasing her when she pulled away.  I signed a few questions about how her daughter had disappeared, and translated her answers for Alex, who took notes.  We left with a promise to return with any leads.

My hands shook as I opened the car door, for once letting Alex drive.  I didn't trust myself behind the wheel right now.  We drove back to the precinct in silence.  I flexed my hands in my lap, still surprised that I'd remembered so much sign language.  It had been years since I'd last used it.

"I didn't know you could speak sign language," Alex said, as if reading my mind.  I looked up.

"Yeah," I said simply, not wanting to explain.

"Where'd you learn?" she asked, and I felt compelled to answer.

"My, uh, adoptive parents had three other kids.  My younger sister was born with a hearing problem.  I was chosen to be her interpreter.  I started learning when I was 8, right after she was born.  She, um, died, when she was 10.  Same thing that made her deaf deformed her spinal cord; she just stopped working one day."  I bit back tears.  I hadn't thought about Sally in years.  I suddenly flashed on the two of us, running around the backyard, reenacting scenes from our favorite books.  Or rather, my favorite books, she never learned to read.

Alex reached over and grasped my hand, jolting me back to reality.  I looked up into her concerned black eyes and realized that I was crying.

"I'm fine," I lied, and she smiled without humor.  I looked away, out the window at the city as it streamed by; and tried to push everything aside and focus on finding the bastard who killed little girls.

We returned to our desks to find the guys from the SV unit waiting in our captains office.  They didn't look too happy.

"I thought we said that we'd handle any suspects!" the taller guy exploded, trying to get in Alex's face.  She brushed past him, and took his vacated chair.

"Yeah," I said, following her to perch on the captain's desk.  He looked exceptionally uncomfortable.  "Suspects.  My partner and I were following leads as to the girls' identities.  We found a few matches with Missing Persons, and went to talk to the families.  We got three positive IDs."  I handed the file to the captain, turning my back on the other detectives.

"Hey!" said the Russian.  "I thought we were working together on this one.  Let's try to get along, shall we?"  I looked at him, and almost sneered.  Alex stood up just in time to stop me from saying something I'd regret.

"Yes, we're working it together, so why don't you two get it through your skulls that we're trying to help.  You don't want us, take it up with your captain."  Alex's eyes were pitch black and angry.  I was thankful they were turned on someone other than me.

"People, let's try to act civilly, shall we?  Now, we've got 15 dead girls and only three IDs.  Let's get back out there and figure out who the rest of them are.  We find out who they are, we find out who killed them."  The captain finally intervened, and set us all back on track.  Before anyone could comment, my phone rang.  I answered without checking caller ID.

"DeSuiesk."

"Hey Mom, it's me," Char said from the other end.  I looked at my watch.  Sure enough, it was time for her to be home.

"Hey kiddo."  I sighed into the phone, the day suddenly seeming too long.

"You okay?" she asked, worried.

"Yeah, I'll be fine.  We just caught a really bad case."  I looked around at the room's occupants.  Alex knew it was Char, as did the captain, but the other two looked confused.

"All right, I'll let you get back to work.  Any idea when you'll be home?" she asked.

"No.  I'll call you later, okay?"

"Sure thing.  You'll catch him, Mom, you always do."  Her blind faith in me brought tears to my eyes.

"Love you, Char," I said, and we hung up.  The two SVU detectives were watching me with interest.

"My daughter," I said, clipping my phone back into its holster.  The Russian looked surprised; and his partner seemed to look at me with new eyes.  It was an unexpected side effect of telling folk that I had a child; they tended to take a better look of me.  It was nice, sometimes, but mostly it unnerved me; made me feel like I was lying.

"Look, we're gonna head over to our squad room, see if we can find any more on the IDs.  You two want to check in with forensics?"  Cobbler seemed to be trying to make amends.  Alex and I nodded, and we all headed out.

After the meeting with the crime scene techie who walked us through the scene, and a short discussion with the overworked ME, we went back to the station, and sat at out desks.  I felt numb; detached.  I couldn't stop staring that the photos from the pit.  The girls' faces seemed to etch themselves into my eyes, and I felt sick.  I swallowed and tried to ignore the urge to vomit, but it was too intense.  Photos scattered as I jerked out of my seat and almost ran to the bathroom.  I made it to the toilet before my breakfast came up.  It, and what seemed like every other meal I'd ever eaten, exited my body noisily, and when my system was void of half-digested food, I dry heaved into the toilet bowl.

A soft hand was on the back of my neck, holding me as I retched.  It steadied my head; helped me remember that not everyone was dead.  Finally my body stopped heaving, and I took great gulps of air.  The hand on my neck moved to my back, comforting, while the other reached around me to flush the toilet.  Then Alex helped me stand, and led me over too the sinks to splash cold water on my face, and rinse my mouth out.  She didn't say a word; simply handed me paper towels to dry myself off with.  I avoided her eyes, not wanting to see disrespect in them.

She held the door for me, and we walked back into the bustling room.  I busied myself picking up the papers that had fallen as I rushed out, but avoided looking at them.  I sat down and put my head in my hands.

"Hey, Crys, it's after six.  Why don't you give Char a call and let her know what's going on?"  I looked up at the quiet suggestion, and berated myself for not thinking of my daughter.  I quickly dialed the phone, trying to compose myself.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Hey Char, it's me," I said.  "Sorry I didn't call before."

"It's okay, I understand.  I guess you'll be staying late, then?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry.  How was school?"  I tried to think of something other than the grueling hours to come.

"It was great.  I got an A on my math test," she gushed.

"That's great honey.  I'm really proud of you."  But, hard as I try, the words just didn't sound real.  "I'm sorry, that sounded really bad.  We're working an awful case; I'm more than a bit distracted."  I rubbed the bridge of my nose, wishing the world would disappear.

"That's okay, I understand.  Hey, Mom?" she started to ask, but just then Cobbler and Kledowski walked in, and I got distracted.

"Yeah?" I replied, reaching out for the file Cobbler was handing me.  I opened it, and started flipping through the pages.

"Is it okay if I spend the night at a friend's house tonight?" Char asked, unaware of what I was looking at.  I barely heard her.  Later, after all this was over, I would be glad that she had a friend close enough to do a sleepover with, but for now I was distracted by 15 dead girls.

"Yeah, sure kiddo.  Just let me know where you'll be.  I'll probably be at the precinct all night, so give me a call if you need anything."  I flipped through the file in my hand, staring at the information in it with blank eyes.

"Thanks Mom!  I'll call you in an hour or so!"  She hung up, and I turned my full attention to the faces staring back at me from glossy paper.  Alex came to stand behind me; reading over my shoulder.

"We've found two other cases similar to ours; no convictions on either one," Cobbler said unnecessarily.  We could see by the notes that there had been no arrests, despite more than 40 deaths all told.  I looked up finally, and met Alex's black eyes.  She looked almost as pissed as I was feeling.

"I think it's time we paid…" I flipped back to find the investigating detectives names, "Tome and Dickson a visit."  The other's agreed, and Alex and I grabbed our coats on the way out.

It was snowing lightly, but the roads were mostly clear.  Cobbler and Kledowski followed close behind me as I maneuvered through traffic to the station house in Manhattan South that was listed as Dickson's current location.  We pulled into the lot, and climbed out.

We looked a bit like an invasion party as we stormed into the station and asked the desk sergeant for Detective Dickson's current desk.  He pointed us down the hall, and we walked briskly to the double doors that announced we were about to enter the Manhattan Special Victims Unit.  Alex and I, in the lead, pushed the doors open dramatically, and we all stopped just inside.  I swept my eyes over the occupants; men and women sitting at desks, or standing by the coffee machine, talking and laughing.  It looked like any squad room.

"Detective Dickson," Cobbler called out from behind me.  I shifted so that he and Kledowski could be seen.

A short, almost petite woman stood up and walked over.

"I'm Clarissa Dickson, how can I help you?" she said, smiling.  Alex grabbed my arm before I could wipe the smirk off of her face.

"We need to talk to you about a case you and your partner, Mike Tome caught a few years back.  20 girls in a mass grave?" I told her, to jog her memory.  Pain crossed her face; not from the mention of the old case, but at the name of her former partner.

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to make do with me.  Mike was killed in the line of duty last year."  She said it like any cop would; as if she thought it should have been her at the other end of the killing blow, yet glad she was still alive.  I didn't have time for her walk down memory lane.  Bluntly, I handed her the old case file, and stood watching her, my arms crossed, as she read the first page.

"Let's find somewhere to talk," she said quietly.  We followed her into a small room, where she shut the door and motioned for us to take seats.  Alex and Kledowski sat, but Cobbler and I chose to stand behind our partners.

Dickson sat down opposite us, and started to tell us about the case.  I listened with half an ear as she ran through the details.  Finally I had had enough.

"Look, Dickson, we've read the file.  We need you to tell us what wasn't in there.  Who did you suspect; what was your gut telling you?" I asked forcefully.  I knew I was grouchy; knew the case was eating at me in a bad way, but the faces kept coming back to me.

"There's nothing else to tell.  We didn't have a suspect, we didn't have any leads.  Most of these girls are still Jane Does."  Her eyes looked sad, but it barely registered.  My temper was getting the better of me, but before I slammed her up against the wall, I walked out of the room with deliberate control.  I tried to calm myself as I made my way outside; and the cold air helped.  I needed…something.  A lead.  Something to do other than chase down facts from old cases.  I paced in front of the building until Alex came out.  I thought for a second that she was alone, but the other two quickly followed; wrapping scarves around their necks.  I started walking toward our cars, not wanting to talk.  They caught up just before I got in, and we stood in the freezing parking lot for a moment, just looking at each other.  Finally, Kledowski broke the silence.

"We should talk to the guys who caught the first case," he started to say, but I slammed the open car door.  I held my hand against the cold metal for a moment, breathing hard.

"Thi