Rookie Blue 1. Chapter 1

Sam is a fantastic character. I don't own him (or any of the Rookie Blue) I'm just borrowing him for the story.

As she makes her way up the snow-covered staircase, she gets a strange sense of dejavu. How many times had she run up these same stairs, coffee in hand, skipping every other step in hopes of actually arriving at parade on time?

That seems like a lifetime ago. And now here she is, back in front of the building that she once knew so well, running up the familiar steps. As familiar as this whole scene feels, she's painfully aware that this situation is far from the good old days. The building may be the same, but she's definitely not the same person who used to run up these steps. There's a different urgency spurring her forward, and she marvels how this situation can feel so familiar and yet the circumstances are so different. Still, she can't help but appreciate the full-circled nature of this moment.

Her hand closes around the cold handle of the outside door, and, despite the hurry that she's in, she finds herself frozen in place, unwilling to go inside, yet unable to turn away. Her heart beats painfully against her ribs (whether from running or fear, she'd rather not know).

As she shoves the door open, the warm, dry air of the precinct rushes across her face, warming her frozen cheeks. _Here we go_.

She spots an unfamiliar face behind the front desk. Thinking that she might have more success with an unassuming rookie than a vet, she quickly makes her way over to the petite black woman. After a quick glace at her name tag, the woman gets her attention.

"Hi, Officer Nash. Is Sergeant Boyko around?" She hopes that her voice sounds calm, that her smile is disarming. But it's been so long since she's needed to be charming, she worries that she's out of practice.

Apparently she's not too out of practice because the young rookie picks up the phone and selects a button.

"One second Miss…"

Thankfully, before the mystery woman has to fill in the blank, someone comes around the corner and distracts the rookie from her train of thought.

"Traci, I need Epstein's ID number. Can you tell me which squad car he's in today?"

She's just about to thank her lucky stars for the welcomed distraction until she sees who provided it.

_Jerry. _

_Shit_.

His head's still bent over a folder, and, on instinct, she lowers her head in hopes that her long hair will cover her face before he recognizes her.

"One second, _Detective_." Traci emphasizes the last word, clearly in opposition to his use of her first name. "Ma'am. Sergeant Best isn't answering his phone. I can tell him that you stopped by if you just give me your name and number."

By now Jerry has looked up from his file, and both he and Traci stare at her expectantly.

"I can, um, wait." She replies, face still obscured by her long brown locks.

Jerry takes in the woman. Something about the way she's standing and avoiding eye contact is off. He looks at her further, and notes her snow soaked jeans and grey U of T hoodie that's too light for the recent snow fall in Toronto. And suddenly, it's like a firework goes off in his head. He can practically feel his synapses firing as he recognizes the petite brunette in front of him. _What. The. Hell?_

She can feel Jerry's eyes on her and she knows that he's turned his undivided attention to her. And, without even looking at him, she knows that she's been made.


	2. Chapter 2

With the option of turning back sufficiently squashed, She steels herself and slowly lifts her grey eyes to the curly haired man in front of her.

Upon watching the wordless exchange between her sometimes lover and the mystery woman, Tracy tentatively repeats herself. "I just… need your name and number, Miss…"

"Al." Jerry blurts out as he moves from behind the counter towards the woman. In part because the shock of seeing her standing there outweighs his common sense and in part because he needs Traci to shut up so he can think. God, his head's already spinning.

As if realizing that he shouldn't be mad at Traci, Jerry clears his throat and stops in front of the woman. "Her name's Alexis." He says, still not moving his eyes from the woman.

He moves to grab her arm and debates whether he should cuff her or just get her to a secure room as fast as possible, and decides that getting her hidden takes priority over risking her running. Before he touches her, his hand stills in mid-air, and he can't help but worry that he's going to touch her and she's going to vanish like mist through his fingers. He internally rolls his eyes and berates himself for even thinking it.

Once his hand is wrapped tightly around her bicep and he knows she can't move away from him, he pries his eyes from Alexis for the first time since he recognized her. "Nash, go find the Sergeant. Tell him to meet me in Interrogation room four right now."

Confused, Traci remains behind the desk. "Four? Jerry, nobody uses four anymore. The camera doesn't even work."

"_Traci_," Jerry nearly begs. "It's important. Now."

She hesitates, but seeing the normally calm Jerry go from zero to completely stressed in the span of a few minutes spurs Traci into motion and she leaves to carry out his order. With Traci gone and Best on his way, Jerry weighs his next problem: Getting Al to room four without the whole squad seeing her. Deciding that the back hallway will be less populated, he jerks her forward.

"Back hallway. Come on." He tells her quickly. In his haste to get her there, he's practically dragging the much shorter woman down the corridor.

She tries to keep her head down and hide her face as much as possible without drawing attention to herself, and instead allows Jerry to lead her to the room. His grip on her arm is a little too tight, and his steps are a little too fast for her, but right now the only thing that she really feels is the bounding of her heart in her chest and the taste of fear settling heavily in the back of her throat.

They make it half way without any trouble, the few people that they pass are too engrained in their work to notice the pair.

"Jerry! I have a question for you about the Higgins case." A tall blonde breaks away from a group of officers talking around a desk and comes over to Jerry, effectively blocking his path and stalling him and Alexis.

"Not now, Calliaghan." He tries to keep his voice normal, to not show the strain. But the words come out through gritted teeth and it's enough to make the other detective stop and look at the person Jerry's holding on to.

He hesitates. "Alright. I just need…" The normally chatty Luke stops mid sentence when the woman glances up at him. Confusion and recognition and disbelief seem to halt all brain activity and all he can do is look from Jerry to the woman.

His abrupt silence draws the attention of some of the officers he had just been talking with, and they look over to see what happened. And slowly, oh so slowly, the people around the back offices stop taking and stare at the woman next to Jerry. The silence seems to build, until it's so loud and powerful in Alexis's head that she can't stand it. The normally bustling office seems to freeze as more and more people stop to see what's going on.

Now that so many people have seen her, she knows it's only a matter of time until all of 15 knows she's here. Upon realizing that there is absolutely nothing she can do about it, the fear that nearly paralyzed her moments before disappears and in its place a wonderful numbness settles. She doesn't feel fear or apprehension or much of anything. Instead, she feels calm, resigned to the fact that she has no control over what's about to happen to her.

Jerry seems to come back to his senses and pulls her around Luke and further down the hallway, past the prying eyes of his colleagues. Once around the corner, he shoves the door to four open and flicks on the lights. The room is clean but dated, with boxes of closed case files stacked along one wall. Jerry swiftly shuts the door and guides her to the chair facing the door on the other side of the table. She sits, knowing that there's really no point in resisting, and he finally releases his vice like grip from her arm. He walks behind her and cuffs her hands behind her back. Her hands, he notes, are freezing.

After he's convinced that she isn't going anywhere, he walks back to the other side of the table and pulls up a seat for himself. He knows that he needs to figure out why she's here, but he's not sure if he can take anymore stressful news right now, and Best will be there soon, so he settles back in the chair and just watches her.

She makes a show out of checking out the room in hopes of prolonging the inevitable conversation. She looks at the boxes, the overhead lamp, the old TV. But the room hasn't changed in nearly a decade, so the charade doesn't last long. Now that the adrenaline that was pumping through her system is gone, she's aware that her socks are soaked, muscles sore, and she hasn't had a descent nights sleep for months. She desperately wants to take her mind off of her discomfort and break the pregnant silence that has engulfed the room.

Her eyes slide over to Jerry, who is just sitting there, legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at his ankles as he stares at her. "Is Boyko in a good mood today?" She asks. The scratchiness of her voice ruins the intended humor of her question.

"Boyko left. Best's in charge now."

"Best? Really?"

The last time she had seen Best, he was avoiding paperwork like the plague and throwing down at the Penny every chance he got. Apparently she's not the only one who's changed. She muses over the picture of Best wearing the stripes now.

As if she summoned him with her thoughts, Best bustles through the door, clearly annoyed that Nash had pulled him away from whatever he was doing. "Jerry, what's with the cryptic message?" He barks before he's even finished closing the door. He's had a hell of a time trying to get his former coworkers to see him as a serious supervisor.

"Sergeant. We have a visitor." Jerry has yet to move from his position in his chair.

"Great..." Best drawls, clearly in no mood to play games.

Knowing that time is crucial, Jerry decides to not draw out the conversation. "Alexis Danvers". He says, feeling like he's just muttered some forbidden word. He sees her wince at the mention of her own name, but it's so fleeting and subtle that he begins to question whether he saw it or not almost immediately after it happened.

To Best's credit, he recovers from his shock much faster than Jerry did. His head snaps almost immediately to the other occupant in the room. "Alexis." He repeats, as if confirming it for himself. "Where'd you find her?" He asks Jerry.

"Believe it or not," Jerry sits up in the chair and turns to face Best. "She found us."

Upon seeing his supervisor's disbelieving stare, Jerry holds up his hands, palms toward Best in surrender. "Honest to God. She walked in the front lobby about fifteen minutes ago and asked to see Sergeant Boyko."

"Who else saw her come in?"

"I took her through the back hall. Callaghan and a few others saw her. I'm sure the news has spread through the squad by now." The weariness in Jerry's voice is evident, and he roughly rubs his face with both hands. _This is going to be one long ass day._

Best moves into Sergeant mode seamlessly. "Alright. She stays here until we find out what's going on. I'm going to call Lewis over at Drug Squad and get him over here. In the mean time, we need to contain this as much as possible. Go out and try to stop the word from spreading. This information does not leave the building."

A sigh escapes Jerry's lips. He knows it's impossible to stop a rumor from spreading in a building full of cops - precinct 15 is worse than a high school in a small town - but he knows that arguing with Best will prove equally as futile, and Jerry knows that damage control needs to be done asap. He stands and takes one last look at Alexis. "Officer Nash greeted her at the front desk. I'll go find her and tell her to keep this under wraps." It isn't lost on him that neither of the men have asked her what she's doing here, but they'll be time enough for questions later. Right now they need to make sure that they're in control over who knows she's here.

Best goes to leave, Jerry assumes to call Lewis. And while the thought of leaving Alexis alone in the room doesn't sit right with him, he knows that they can't ask someone else to watch her without bringing more attention to the situation. Mind made up, he glances once more at her handcuffed wrists and follows Best out of the room, closing the door quickly. Best heads toward his office and Jerry moves the opposite direction in hopes of finding Traci in the front lobby.

He doesn't make it far when he sees his friend round the corner. From the look on his face and the fast pace of his steps, Jerry can tell that Sam's already heard the news. _As if this day wasn't stressful enough_.

He sees the murderous look in Sam's eyes and he's about to tell him to take it easy on her. To remind him that she came back on her own. That something's clearly wrong. But the warning dies in his throat when he looks at him, and instead he hands him his handcuff key and gives him a quick squeeze on his shoulder. Sam barely pauses long enough to get the key, and heads straight for room four.

Jerry's never been a religious guy, but he finds himself saying a quick prayer to whoever will listen that both Sam and Alexis will be in one piece when he returns. Knowing that there's nothing else he can do for either of them right now without risking his own safety and sanity, Jerry heads toward the lobby.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Do my stylistic fragments and run-on sentences sacrifice readability?

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><p>He takes longer to shut the door than necessary, and she wonders if he's doing it to buy himself more time to think, or if he somehow knows how much the anticipation is killing her and is purposefully trying to cause her as much discomfort as possible. Probably both. Although, come to think of it, Sam was never a 'think first, act later' kind of guy, so, it was probably more so the latter.<p>

Once the door is shut, he turns around to face her. It's been over a year since she's seen his face, but it looks the same, save for the anger blazing in his eyes. His normal smirk that she remembers so well is gone, replaced with pursed lips.

He pauses, takes in her features briefly, presumably to confirm for himself that it's really her sitting before him. Although his gaze is practically burning her skin, she knows that looking away is not an option, so she lifts her chin slightly higher and returns his gaze as steadily as she can manage. As he scrutinizes her, she hopes that her face is schooled enough to not betray the emotions that she's feeling. God knows she's had enough practice with Joe, but Sam is different. She's never been able to get much past him. His dark brown eyes caught nearly everything. She knows that she's gotten better at hiding her emotions. She can only hope that he's gotten worse at reading them. She's not ready to have him poking around in her head quite yet, especially without anyone else around to reel him back.

Without a word, he crosses the room, roughly grabs the cuffs around her wrists and unlocks them, freeing her hands from the uncomfortable hold behind the chair. She brings her hands forward and idly rubs her wrists before crossing her arms on the table in front of her. If she didn't know him any better, she would think that freeing her from the cuffs was a nice gesture. But she does know him better, and she's painfully aware that's meant as a sign of dominance, not kindness. It's a challenge that practically screams 'You wouldn't dare try something while I'm in here. You wouldn't get away with it'.

He tosses the cuffs on the table, making more noise than necessary when metal hits metal table, and walks across the small room to casually lean against the door. Although the action is meant to look relaxed and nonchalant, she can tell by his twitching jaw and unrelenting stare that he is anything but calm and relaxed.

She waits, knowing that he holds most of the power right now and the second she gives up her information, she'll have absolutely no power left. She'll be expendable. _Not to mention in a shit load of trouble_. She reminds herself. Although she knows they need to move quickly, she finds that she's still unwilling to bear her soul quite yet. She imagines her hesitancy to open up is yet another product of being under by herself for so long. As if she needed any more damage to her psyche.

"Where have you been?" He asks slowly. And if it wasn't for the thinly veiled venom in his words, she would swear that an angel was talking. Oh how she missed that voice. Deep and smooth with hints of Upstate New York still wrapped around the end of each sentence. She's pleased to find that it still has the same calming effect on her, and she can feel her shoulders relax slightly. She wishes she could just close her eyes and listen to that voice for the rest of the day. But she hadn't missed the anger in his voice, and it's enough to remind her that he's not here to shoot the breeze or catch up on old times.

She's not convinced that she can keep her own voice calm, or keep her emotions from seeping through the words, so she decides that short, concise answers are her best bet. "Mostly Toronto. New York, too." There's no 'hello'. No 'are you okay'. No 'I was worried sick'. But she wasn't naïve enough to think that there would be, especially from him. Still, the small part of her brain that refuses to be governed by reason recoils from his harsh tone and apparent lack of concern like he's just slapped her across the face. She tries not to dwell on it, knowing that it's irrational to expect anything other than anger from him. There would be time to process her pain later. Right now she just had to get through this.

"With Joseph Riddick?" He pressed, obviously annoyed at the brevity of her answer.

"Yes." That one syllable is so flat, so void of life, that it doesn't even sound like her. He pushes himself off of the door and steps in front of the table, where she's forced to look up at him to maintain eye contact.

"And you what? Had a fight? Needed somewhere to spend the night?" The moment the words leave his lips, he instantly regrets them. The bitterness in his questions is evident. It would have been less subtle if he had just flat out admitted that he's resentful and bitter and hurt. He's acting like he's 16 and just got stood up at junior prom instead of a police officer who's questioning a potentially valuable informant.

She hadn't intended on provoking him, but when he insinuates that she's involved with Riddick without knowing the trauma of everything she's been through, she finds that she can't help but say something that will push his buttons. She knows that she deserves everything he's saying and then some, and she also knows that he doesn't know the full story, but the idea that he thinks so little of her is enough to shove her closer to her breaking point, and she thinks that she should return the favor. "Yeah. It was a lover's spat. Something about those drug deals really turns me on. Must be something about the danger."

It's not said with malice or even muttered heatedly. Instead, it's the flippancy of her sarcastic remark that enrages him and just as the last sentence leaves her mouth, his hand comes flying down in front of her face and slams into the table, sending a loud crack echoing through the room.

The abrupt movement and loud sound is enough to shake Alexis back to her rational self and she remembers that an angry Sam is like a caged bear: unpredictable and dangerous. She jumps in her chair and, for a brief moment, her carefully constructed mask slips to reveal pure fear in her eyes. She looks away from his prying eyes but knows that it's too late. He's seen that he's shaken her.

He stands over her for a second longer, waiting for his blood pressure to decrease and making sure that he's made his point. When she refuses to return his gaze, he slides his hand slowly off the table and moves back to put some space between them, knowing that if he scares her too much, she won't talk at all.

A noise to his left causes both of them to turn toward the door just as Jerry sticks his head in. With a quick tug of his head, he motions for Sam to follow. He doesn't want to leave her without at least knowing why she's here, but he knows that he's probably not the best person to do initial questioning, so he follows Jerry out the door.

As Sam shuts the door to room four behind him, Jerry takes a moment to look at his friends face. But any chance of reading his friend's emotions is already gone. His face is already blank. He steps into observation four without a word, knowing that Sam will follow. Once they're both inside, they stand in front of the two way mirror and observe the woman in the adjoining room in silence. She seems thinner than the last time they saw her, though it's hard to tell through the baggy sweatshirt. Her face has a slightly sallow tint, all traces of her tan, rosy cheeks gone. There's black circles under her eyes, telling them that she's sleep deprived, but they're still the amazing dark grey that they both remember.

"She came back on her own." Jerry offered, his eyes never leaving the brunette in the chair. There's no response to his statement, so the men continue to survey the woman in silence. Finally unable to take the quiet, he tries again. "She only came in wearing that sweatshirt and those wet jeans. Her hands were freezing."

"I noticed." The reply is short, but it's two more words than he got before. He knows that there's an elephant in the room, that they're both avoiding asking the most important question because the second it's asked, they know it'll be like setting off an atomic bomb: highly hazardous and unstable with all sorts of chain reactions. _Why is she back?_

"Did you get anything out of her?" Jerry can practically feel Sam willing him to shut up or keel over dead.

"No. She's been with Riddick. That's it." Jerry's not quit sure if "that's it" of all the information Sam got from her or "that's it" for this conversation. He suspects it's all of the above and decides that it's best not to push his already on edge friend.

They only have to wait fifteen more minutes in silence before Best comes through the door. He seems a bit taken aback that Sam's there, but wisely chooses not to comment on it. He's going to have enough battles today. He might as well choose them wisely. "Lewis is on a training exercise in Pakistan. His assistant says he's unreachable until next Wednesday. Has she said anything?"

"She told Sam she's been with Riddick, which we already figured." Jerry offered. "I don't like this." He blurted. "Something's not right. Why come back now? And she looks pretty beat up and tired. Something's off." He's just as shocked and angry with her as the next guy, but if there's one thing he knows, it's to trust his gut. And his gut is telling him that there's more to this story than any of them can imagine.

None of the men have anything to say in response to Jerry's concerns. Instead, they just watch Alexis in the other room as she slouches in the chair and leans her head against the back and allows her eyes to slide shut.

"Well, we won't know what's going on until we ask her. And we can't leave her locked in room four until Lewis comes back next week." Best uses his most authoritative voice in hopes that he'll sound confident in his decision. As an afterthought he ads, "Come on." Hoping that between the three of them they'll be able to discern why she's here.


	4. Chapter 4

a/n: Alas, some much needed answers. Thanks for the reviews. Enjoy!

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><p>She opens her eyes at the sound of the door being opened and sits up in her chair when Best, Jerry, and Sam file into the room.<p>

While Jerry and Best sit in chairs across the table from her, Sam opts to half lean, half sit on the boxes lined up against the wall. He doesn't trust himself to speak with her quite yet, especially with a white shirt in the room, even if that white shirt is Frank. He knows there's no way in hell he can remain objective, which makes him the worst pick for questioning her, but his extensive knowledge of her makes him invaluable when it comes to reading her. And so he sits and watches.

Jerry's the first to take the lead, having had the most interrogation experience. He pauses after he settles his weight in the seat in front of her, either to build suspense or to gather his thoughts. "Where's your coat?"

And Sam nearly groans and barely suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. _That's the question you lead with?_

To Alexis's credit, on her end there's no face, no sarcastic comment, no action at all that reflects just how stupid the question is. She simply answers the question in the same slightly bored, tired voice that she's been using since she got here. "Back at Joe's loft."

Upon hearing her refer to Riddick by his nickname, Sam bristles inside. He holds back from verbalizing his scoff, but he's unable to stop himself from moving his body weight around and jostling the boxes in his agitation. He doesn't even realize he's done it until she looks over at him, and he swears that he sees her eyebrow raise slightly, but it's so subtle that he doubts the others even caught it before she turned her attention back to Jerry.

"Where's the loft located?" Jerry asks.

"It's off Moultrie Street."

"How long's Riddick been living there?" He presses.

This time Sam barely holds his tongue. _For Christ's sake, Jerry. We're going to be here all night if you keep this up_.

"A few months." The vagueness of her answers is really starting to piss him off. He can't tell if it's some game that her and Jerry are playing or if Jerry's suddenly lost all ability to ask questions and she's lost all ability to answer them. Whatever it is, Sam decides to put an end to it. If not for their sanity then at least for his own. Without leaving his spot on the boxes, he crosses his arms and decides that if they want answers, he's going to have to take point.

"You came to us, Alex. I'm guessing it's for a reason. Quit jerkin' us around." It's not a question, but he knows that she'll recognize his no nonsense voice.

He's used his serious tone, but it's the sound of her nickname from his lips that makes her want to spill everything in hopes of pleasing him enough to hear him utter it again. God, she's missed hearing him call her that.

Without pause, she lays down all of her cards, seemingly done with the poker game they've been playing. "I have enough proof to bury Joseph Riddick."

If Sam's surprised, he doesn't show it. "What kind of proof?"

"The kind of proof that gets him the death penalty, or at least puts him away for life." If she had more energy, she knows she'd be fuming right about now. _What kind of proof? Like she'd be here right now if she didn't have some serious evidence against him_.

When his only response is to give her a pointed look, she sighs before elaborating. "Documents, pictures, phone records. All linking him to several multi million dollar drug trafficking schemes and some solid information connecting him to a couple of murders and assaults. It's good information. A first year law student could make it stick. He won't get off again."

Sam nods, showing that he believes her. But just because he believes her, doesn't mean he trusts her. "What do you want for it?" He asks.

She's taken aback by the question and doesn't know what he's getting at. She's not sure what to say, so she decides to answer honestly. "No-thing." The word's drawn out, a testament to her confusion.

"You must want something." He presses.

His face is neutral but it doesn't matter. The implications are clear and she finally picks up on them like he's lit a neon sign. _You're no different than any common convict looking to cut a deal with the police just to save yourself_.

"Nothing." This time the word is said harsher, uttered more definitively.

"We're willing to work with you, Al." It's the first time Jerry's interrupted them, but he recognizes that they've both dug their heels into the sand and he knows they'll be at a standstill 'til kingdom come unless a slightly more neutral party steps in. He may not be without bias, but he's all they've got right now.

Although he's just repeating what Sam said, Jerry's voice holds none of the implications that Sam's had, and, knowing that she can't convince them otherwise, she figures it's best to tell them something so that they can all move forward. She sighs and lightly throws her hands up in the air in a sign of resignation. "A long hot shower, sandwich from the Penny, and six consecutive hours of sleep."

"You've got to want more than that." Best says, obviously shocked that she'd even request those things in exchange for handing over one of the top five drug traffickers in North America.

"Frank, trust me. If you've had the past year that I've had, you'd be promising me your first born for those three things." There's no humor in her voice and her eyes seem far away, like she's running through the past year's events in her mind.

"Alright." Sam says, false indifference oozing from his voice. "Where's the info?"

It's enough to shake her from her thoughts and drag her back to the present, although it takes a moment to process what he's asked her. "What?" The wariness is back on her face.

"The info. Where is it?" He prompts again.

"Oh." She shakes her head in an effort to stay focused. "Everything's on a junk drive back at the loft. I can't get to it with Riddick and his guys around. I'll have to go back in for it and sit on it until I get an opening."

"We're not just going to let you go back under." Jerry says, as if he's talking to a three year old.

She shrugs her shoulders and she hopes that it comes across as blasé. "There's no other way. If the cops come, he'll burn the place down before you can get near it. It's got to be me." Just uttering the sentence makes her feel exhausted. She'd burn the place down herself with Riddick locked inside if she could.

"I'm calling Lewis again. I'll get on a plane to Pakistan and find him myself if I have to." Best states before standing and heading for the door.

There's a quick but obvious look of panic that both Jerry and Sam see on her face, but both are too bogged down with the information she's already thrown at them to try and decipher what it might mean.

Sam moves from the boxes and heads toward the door. "Sit tight." He tells her. Jerry follows his lead and stands and follows him. They open the door and are about to exit when her voice stops them.

"Wait."

Jerry and Best turn to look at her. Sam raises his head and looks at the ceiling for a moment. _Why can't anything be simple with this woman?_ Before slowly turning around and waiting for her to drop yet another bomb.

They all stare at her, expectant looks on their faces, and she can't bring herself to tell them, the words caught in her throat like a piece of apple. She had thought she'd have more time to tell them. She had thought she could gradually reveal the truth, or, better yet, not have to tell them at all but she can't let them get a hold of MacNeil, so she has to tell them everything now, like ripping off a band aid.

"There's…more." She says tentatively, trying to gage their reactions.

Sam shuts the door but none of them make any move to go back to their previous spots at the table and the wall. She looks at Best, hoping that he'll take the news better than the others. "You can't call Lewis MacNeil. No one from Drug Squad can know I'm here."

His eyes narrow. "Why not?" He asks.

She doesn't answer right away and instead looks from Jerry to Sam, obviously torn over something. Her eyes finally settle on Jerry and she whispers the words that break her heart even to think. "Carter skimmed from Riddick." It's barely audible and sounds more like an apology than an accusation. Still, Jerry hears it like a gun shot's just gone off in the small room, and it's his turn to flip out.

"What the _hell_ are you saying? That Carter was dirty? That my old partner –the guy that had _your_ back and got _killed_ while under with _you_ –was dirty?" He had started out hissing the questions through his teeth, but by the end, Jerry's practically yelling at her. In a strange twist to the day, it's Sam who sticks his arm out and keeps Jerry back when he starts moving toward Alexis. And it's Sam who tries to be the voice of reason._ Welcome to the Twilight Zone_.

"You got proof?"

Although it was Sam who asked the question, she keeps her eyes on Jerry, her arms up in a motion that's part self defense, part surrender. "It was only a couple of times." The words come flying from her mouth as she desperately tries to make him understand. "Tina was sick. The medical bills were adding up. He was stressed, away from his sick wife, and in debt."

At the mention of Tina, Jerry calms down enough for Sam to lower his arm. "About five months in, I saw some numbers that weren't adding up, so I confronted Carter about it. He told me that some guys from Drug Squad had come to him and had asked him to transfer five percent of all of Riddick's accounts that he had access to into an account at some bank in Mexico, and they would split the profit each month."

She stopped to glance at Best and Sam. "By the time I confronted him, he said he had told them yesterday that the was out. It was too risky and even though they're stealing money from a dealer, it's still stealing, and he couldn't risk jeopardizing the operation. Four days later, I was with Riddick and some of his guys at the warehouse. Some guys drug Carter in. He'd been beaten. His hands were tied behind him. They shoved him on his knees in front of Riddick and Riddick started yelling about him being a cop. I went to run up to him and tell him to calm down, but one of the guys grabbed me from behind and held me back. I struggled but I couldn't break his hold."

She pauses as the images of that night play out in front of her again. She desperately wants to push the flashback to the back of her mind, but she knows that they need to know the truth. Still, she decides to spare them the more gory details and skips ahead in the story. "The next thing I knew, Riddick pulled a gun out and shot Carter in the head." Her voice breaks at the end, and she clears her throat to get herself under control.

"I guess the cops were already in Riddick's pocket because they pinned the stolen money on Carter so Riddick wouldn't suspect them. We were careful with our covers. I knew it had to be someone from DS. He was outed only a few days after telling them he wouldn't help them anymore. They didn't even out me at first. But I guess they thought that if they told Riddick I was a cop, they could get back into his good graces, because the next day they tried outing me, too. Riddick called me into his office, and asked me a bunch of questions like why had I tried to stop him from killing Carter, but I convinced him that I wasn't a cop."

"How?" Sam's voice broke through her story telling trance.

"I told him I freaked because I'd never seen anyone get killed before. Then I slept with him." There's a noticeable void of emotion when she says it, no different than reciting this week's grocery list. It catches Sam off guard, but he can't tell whether it's because he's concerned, angry, or disgusted.

"Why didn't you come to us right after it happened?" Jerry's voice is noticeably calmer, but he makes no effort to hide his distrust. There's no way he's going to wrap his head around this anytime soon.

Her eyes harden and there's a new resolve in her voice when she speaks next. "I wasn't leaving until I knew who outed Carter, and I had no clue how deep in the force it went or who I could trust, so I broke off all police contact and worked on gathering evidence against Riddick and finding out which cops were in bed with him. MacNeil had been our point of contact, so I knew he was involved. I had to wait until he was gone before I could resurface. I still don't have all of the names, so I have to go back under, but when I heard MacNeil was out of the country, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to come to you."

And just like that, she's literally put her life in their hands. If they believe her, they can be a huge help, but if they don't, then she'll most likely be dead within the week once word gets to DS. Despite the danger she's just put herself in, she can't help but feel lighter and more relieved than she has in ages. It's the first honest thing she's said in over a year, and the weight that settled on her chest since everything happened is significantly lighter.

Her relief is short lived when she remembers that she had to taint a good man's name in the process, and she hopes that Carter's family never finds out what he did.

The room is still quiet, the guys seemingly at a loss for words. Sam and Best stay rooted where they stopped, while Jerry walks forward and sits heavily in the chair across from her, his eyes unfocused and staring at nothing. She feels for him. The hurt, shock, anger. She's felt it too, and she wishes she could reach her hand out and hold his. She wishes that she could tell him it's going to be ok. But her guilt stops her. She had a choice. She didn't need to come back and tell them this. She could have let them all continue to think that Carter was blameless and that she went rogue for the money. But she had come back. She had destroyed the memory of a good cop, had broken the heart of his best friend, and had torn open old wounds. Hell, she practically dug up his grave, set the bones on fire, and pissed on the ashes. And as she watches Jerry's face, she can't seem to remember why she came back and did all of this in the first place.


	5. Chapter 5

a/n: for plot purposes, i've given Best a wife, despite the fact that I'm uber excited about the obvious upcoming Williams/Best romance.

Best is the first to recover, and immediately moves into Sergeant mode. "Alright. Here's what we're going to do: We hold off on telling MacNeil or anyone from DS. Either what you've said is true, and we don't want to risk exposing you, or it's not true, and we don't want to risk soiling a good man's name. We don't trust anyone with this information until we know what's going on. We can't risk booking her, but we can't risk having her run, either, so she has to stay with one of us at all times. I can't exactly bring her home with me without some serious from my wife. Jerry, you still live in the same building as Bosch from DS?" Jerry breaks from his reverie long enough to nod in confirmation. "So, Sam…?" Best doesn't finish the question, knowing that it's obvious where this is going.

Sam exhales loudly and slowly and brings his hands up to rub his face. After a brief moment of consideration, he nods. "Yeah. Ok." Resignation heavy in his voice.

He walks over to where she's sitting and watching Jerry with a look of shame and concern on her face, and Sam's not even sure if she heard Best's orders. He stops next to her chair, and she looks at him with confusion written all over her features. And all of the sudden, he glimpses the former office manager of Precinct 15 before she got roped into going undercover, before her partner got killed and she disappeared off the face of the planet, before she came back hard and cold and guarded. He sees Alex, not Alexis, and he marvels how he could have spent the past year hating her. And then he remembers everything that's happened in the past year and the familiar anger bubbles up inside of him, starting deep in his stomach and exploding in his chest before coursing through the rest of his body, and he finds himself reaching down and hauling her up off her chair by her bicep instead of asking her to stand like he had originally intended. Anger is a much more familiar emotion to Sam than whatever the hell else he's feeling right now. It's more manageable, makes more sense to him, and is less painful, so he sticks with what he knows and focuses on his anger while pushing the other feelings to the back of his mind, to be deciphered at another time.

Something between adrenaline and residual anger makes him yank her too hard, causing her to not only move from her chair but also to smash against him. He hadn't thought that the impact was that hard, but it's possible that the thick polyester of his uniform absorbed most of the hit, because the next thing he knows, she hisses and pulls back like she's just been body checked by a Maple Leafs player.

The sound of her in pain triggers his old instincts and concern overpowers his anger immediately. If it had been up to him, he would have ignored her distress. If it had been up to him, he would have pretended like he didn't hear it, pulled her ass to his car and driven home before handcuffing her to his sofa and pouring himself a shot (or three) of whiskey. But it wasn't up to him, not really. His damned instincts kicked in before his rational side could even process what was going on. It's on instinct that he steadies her on her feet. It's on instinct that he sweeps his eyes over her and realizes that she's hunched over slightly and favoring her right side. It's on instinct that his hand shoots out and lifts up the right side of her shirt, exposing the black, purple, and green skin of her abdomen.

The cold fear that rushes through his veins is in such contrast to the hot anger that was there only seconds before, that Sam Swarek finds himself speechless, frozen in place, for the first time in God knows how long.

Nobody says anything. After all, they're all cops and can put two and two together. She takes advantage of Sam's momentary paralysis and swats his hand away and pulls down her shirt, making sure that her skin is covered.

Her hitting his hand seems to jump start him from his trance and he quickly gains his voice. "Hospital." He says, because no more explanation is needed.

"No. I'm fine. It looks worse then it is." She plays it off, because all she really wants to do is sleep, pain be damned.

"I'll drive." Jerry offers, as if she hadn't even spoken.

Sam doesn't even wait for her to protest. Instead, he takes her arm, this time mindful of her injuries, and follows Jerry out the door. Luckily, first shift has nearly ended and most of second shift is in the locker rooms getting ready, so the back hallway is vacant, save for the new transfer from 13th and a teenager in baggy pants.

"Oh and Sam?" Best calls and waits for Sam to look at him before lowering his voice. "Don't let her out of your sight." His order was valid. She absolutely could not be trusted to stay put, and if she left again, God knows they would never be able to find her unless she wanted them to. Still, Best can't help but feel that his twisted sense of humor had at least some influence on the words that just came out of his mouth. If the situation wasn't so complicated or tragic, it would be damn funny that those two are now forced together for the next few days. He knows that karma's a bitch, but he suddenly thinks that irony is too.

Jerry's the first to reach his car, and he presses the unlock button on his keychain before quickly climbing in and starting the engine. Sam reaches the back door moments later, Al in hand, and opens the door before ushering her inside. She slides to the middle of the bench seat, which is as far as she can go since Sam hasn't released his grip on her arm. As he climbs in beside her, she looks at the unlocked car door, estimating that she could easily break his loose hold on her and bolt from the vehicle. She pushes the thought from her mind. She needs to see this through. Besides, if Sam caught her, she has no doubt that he wouldn't hesitate to handcuff her to the car door. Still, the desire to escape looms in the back of her mind. _Old habits die hard_.

Sam slams the car door behind himself and turns in his seat next to her to buckle her seat belt, providing her with one more hurdle should she choose to escape. She flinches involuntarily when he reaches across her to grab her seat belt. When his hand gets a little too close to her still throbbing right side, she scoots to her left, which presses her back against his chest. He seems to get the message, and decides that buckling her in will just aggravate her injuries more. Instead, he leans back in his own seat, surprised at the reluctance that ebbs at his mind and body when he breaks their body contact.

They ride in silence, with only the sounds of Toronto's oldies radio station in the car. Sam stares out the window, trying not to think about everything that's happened in the past few hours. He wills his body to relax, but his mind's reaction to the latest developments coupled with his body's reaction to having her sit next to him is enough to keep him tense and alert. Instead, he watches the headlights pass by.

She moves beside him, causing him to look over. She's slid down in the seat a few inches, allowing her head to lean back against the seat. Her eyes are already closed. Apparently she has no problem relaxing next to him.

After fifteen more minutes of driving, Her head finds its way to his shoulder. He doubts that she has any clue that she's done it, and he knows that the smart, professional thing to do would be to wake her up or at least nudge her off of him, but smart and professional are two things he's never been with her, so he sees no reason to start now. He catches Jerry's eyes looking at him in the rearview mirror, and he goes back to looking out the window, attempting to look as unphased and disinterested as possible. He knows that he's still pissed about what she's put him through for over a year. He knows that she could be playing them right now. But he can't deny that his heart, traitorous thing, seemed to skip a single beat when he felt the weight of her head on his shoulder, and his head seemed to cloud slightly when he smelled the familiar mix of vanilla and grapefruit. How can his body so readily forgive even while his mind and ego refuse to release the anger he feels toward her? He tells himself resolutely that he doesn't move her for fear of aggravating her injuries. Because if there's another reason for keeping this manipulative criminal soundly asleep on his shoulder, he's in a world of trouble.

Jerry pulls into the nurse's parking lot of the hospital nearly half an hour later, and Sam calls her name. "Alex." He could smack himself for how gently he says it, and, one look at Jerry tells him that he caught it too.

Thankfully, she doesn't hear it and merely shifts in her sleep. He tries again, putting more force behind her name in an attempt to save face. "Alexis."

She hears him the second time, and her eyes shoot open. After a second, she shifts to sit straight up. She looks a bit confused, a bit disoriented, but she seems to piece everything together pretty quickly and follows Sam out of the car and begins walking with him and Jerry to the hospital entrance. She hadn't meant to fall asleep in the car. But she was just so tired. And once she felt the warmth of Sam's body next to hers, her eyes had started to slide shut, and she was helpless to fight the exhaustion that has taken over her life as of late. So she slept. Slept for the first time in ages, because it's the first time she's felt safe in ages. And although it was for less than an hour, and she's still dog tired, if she's learned anything over this past year, it's that you take what you can get when you can get it.

"I called a friend who's a doctor here. She's going to check you out." Jerry offers once they're inside the building. His eyes connect with a blonde woman behind the nurses station, and she leaves her spot behind the counter and walks over to them.

"Hey Jeanette. Thanks for this." Jerry greets her.

"No problem. Besides, I like having one of Toronto's finest owe me one." She gives him a flirty smile, and after that, there's no more discussion. She simply leads the three of them to an exam room around the corner.

Once they reach the exam room, Jerry opts to sit on a chair outside of the room. Sam and Alexis follow Jeanette inside.

Once inside the room, it's obvious that it's an old exam room that's now used as extra storage. Cabinets stocked with medical supplies line the walls, but an examination table still sits in the center of the small room, and Alexis wonders just how many off the record exams take place at Mercy Hospital.

Jeanette motions for her to take a seat on the table, and knowing that she doesn't have a choice, Alexis grants her unspoken request.

"Do you mind?" Jeanette asks Alexis, but both of them know the politeness is just a formality, or maybe just habit, because before Alexis gives her an answer, the blonde's already lifting the damp hoodie and shirt up and over Alexis's head.

"You need a dry, warm coat before you leave here." It's a half genuine, half reprimand comment, but it takes too much energy to respond, so Alexis says nothing, and instead lets the doctor lightly push her back onto the exam table.

From that point on, she's strictly business, asking questions while gently prodding her side with slow, deliberate fingers, and Alexis is thankful for her no nonsense attitude.

"How long ago did this happen?"

"About a week or so."

"Any swelling?"

"Not anymore."

"Pain level on a scale from one to ten."

"Nine."

"Loss of appetite?"

"Yeah."

"Sleeping?"

"Not for a while."

"Have you done illegal drugs in the past six months?"

She pauses, all to aware that Sam's listening.

"…yes." Comes the slow answer. She wills herself to not give a damn, but she can't quite shake the feeling of guilt in the pit of her stomach. Still, she resists the urge to explain her answer.

"Are you still using?"

"No."

"Known allergies to any medication?"

"No."

The questions continue for a bit longer, but Sam can't seem to keep focused on their conversation. Instead, the moment Alexis is in nothing but jeans and her sports bra, his concentration is shot to hell, and all he sees is the bruises on the side of her petite frame. He does his best to pay attention to their conversation, and the question about illegal drugs doesn't escape his notice. He makes a mental not to press her about it later.

Before long, Jeanette has wrapped Alexis' torso in white gauze and handed her a fresh scrub top to pull over. Alexis winces when she raises her arms to pull the soft fabric over her head, and Jeanette reaches over to help pull it down before putting a bunch of supplies and pill bottles in a grocery bag.

"Take these." She hands her two small white pills, and Alexis swallows them without water.

"Sit tight. We'll be back. Officer Swarek?" Sam follows her out of the room and over to Jerry.

"As far as I can tell, nothing's broken. I just gave her something for the pain. It should knock her out pretty soon. Keep her side wrapped tightly for the next week. Keep an eye on the swelling. Put the steroid lotion on every night and wrap with fresh gauze. I put some pretty serious pain meds in the bag. Give her one every six hours. There's some Ambien in there, too, but she shouldn't have any trouble sleeping if she takes the pain pills. Questions?"

"No. Thanks, Jeanette." Jerry says as he takes the bag and Sam goes back into the exam room.

She's still sitting on the table, legs hanging over the side and eyes staring unfocused at the floor. When he walks in and shuts the door behind him, she assumes that that's her cue to get up and follow him. She slides off the table and bends down to grab her discarded shirt and hoodie. She considered leaving them, but there the only clothes she has right now.

The tight bandage around her torso prevents her from bending very much, so she braces her left hand on the table so she can reach further down. Her hand just brushes against the rough grey fabric of the worn hoodie when Sam's hand appears next to hers and lifts the material onto the table. She straightens and faces him, waiting for him to say something.

Instead, he unzips his leather jacket, slides it down his arms, and reaches it around her back, waiting for her to put her own arms through. She does so, savoring the warmth that the jacket provides. Her eyes don't leave his, even when he breaks eye contact and looks down at the zipper before pulling it up slowly. His eyes remain guarded. They're not quite neutral, but whatever is going on behind the hazel orbs is off limits to her, and she finds that she can't quite decipher what he's thinking or feeling. It's an unnerving feeling for her, because Sam's always been expressive and open. Apparently, she's not the only one that's changed.


End file.
