“In my considerable lifetime, I’ve only seen that mark on a handful of others, all from the same bloodline… A werewolf clan that once thrived throughout much of what we now call Louisiana”
KLAUS MIKAELSON and HAYLEY MARSHALL in
THE VAMPIRE DIARIES 4.16 | Bring it on | Requested by anon
SYNOPSIS: Kevin Atwater gets handed his most unconventional assignment yet- falsifying an engagement and subsequent marriage, to a witness involved in a political assassination case. Xania Dempsey was attempting to get her life back on track after being mounted under her deceased father's debts, and inadvertently witnesses a heinous act of violence that makes her a target. In the background of their lives, Kevin and Xania also grapple with complicated family relationships, grief, and hardship.
WARNINGS: language, discussions of violence/murder, discussions of political/police corruption, complicated family dynamics, grief/mourning
WC: 3.1k
The bright Chicago sun pores through in rays through Kevin’s slitted blinds. His eyes flutter in adjustment. He stretches his limbs against the mattress, curling out the cricks in his muscles. He hasn’t been sleeping well. The house is too quiet. He’s used to Jordan blasting music through his Bluetooth speaker or Vinessa FaceTiming with her friends. Ever since they moved to Texas to live with aunt Jannie, the household has taken on a quiet, unsettling still.
He sits with a grimace, rubbing his eyes.
It’s been over a month and the unease that fills the brownstone has yet to fade. These days, he’s barely home, grabbing overtime work with enthusiasm or spending the evenings perusing the neighborhood bar. Burgess, who knew how much it cut Kevin to send his siblings away, had been checking on him frequently, but less so, now that she had starting dating this prosecutor. Ruzek had gone out to the bar with him a few times, but he’d been taking up more undercover assignments recently.
Everyone’s life was business as usual and Kevin’s still felt thrown off axis.
His feelings contort from guilt to devastation to disappointment, on any given basis. And still, life goes on and he can’t get stuck behind. So he rises from bed and takes today as the day that has the chance to be better than the last.
His face and knuckles feel sore and he’s not surprised at the bruise that seems to have flowered his back over night. A suspect getting the jump on him yesterday on a raid was his wake up call. He couldn’t continue going through the motions. Something had to change.
And right now, that meant sprucing up. After washing his face and brushing his teeth, he grabs the razor and lines his hair up. Then, he trims his mustache and beard, effacing some of the excess scruff that had begun to sprout. Somewhere in the process, he turns on a playlist, one of Jordan’s favorites, and sweeps up the stray hair now on the floor. Colognes and lotions rearranged. The medicine cabinet gets back to neat organization. His Saturday morning is well spent and flies through quickly once half of his brownstone is cleaned and vacuumed.
He puts the vac back into his linen closet and as the hip hop track transitions to a Sade deep cut, Kevin realizes thats someone’s banging on his door.
“The hell?”
“What are you, deaf?”
Trudy stands in his doorway, with her perpetually irritated attitude on display. “I was cleaning, damn.” He replies.
“Oh good, you’re nesting. That means you’re in the mood to come help at the community garden.” Kevin’s face morphed. “Huh?”
Trudy folds her arms, not letting up. “Remember when I did you the favor of getting you that overtime shift doing security at the Nerlander? What did I tell you?”
Recognition begrudgingly flits his features.
“Exactly. ‘You owe me.’ The time has come. I need some muscles at the garden. Got a bunch of soil I need to lay if I want to get everything planted in season.”
Some wealthy tycoon had recently donated millions of dollars to the city to combat the plague of food deserts within the more disparate neighborhoods. Part of the initiative was a call to action for community members to get directly involved with the efforts and Trudy, the ultimate green thumb, had gotten involved with the new garden being started down the block from the 21st district. While Kevin admired the initiative, he (and the rest of Intelligence) had been dodging Platt’s not so suggestions to help with the manual labor.
His mouth was open and empty. There was no excuse he could think of, especially not one that
would get his Sergeant off his doorstep. He blows a resigned sigh. He supposes the productivity kick he was on should only keep going.
He doesn’t bother closing the door. He’s already dressed. His keys are by the door and he nabs his wallet off his nightstand, just down the hall.
He puts his shoes on, not unaware of the way Trudy peers at him with a scrutinizing gaze.
“Glad you’re alive by the way,” Trudy remarks. “Was afraid this was going to be a wellness check, the way Halstead said you got knocked on your ass yesterday.”
Kevin smirks. “The only thing that hurts is my pride.” His laces are tied, so he stands back up and he just barely conceals the wince as that tender spot on his back aches with the movement.
“Mmm.”
Trudy needn’t say nothing else. She doesn’t have to.
They’re out the door and Kevin throws back at her, “We stopping for breakfast, by the way.”
She allows this but decrees that breakfast will be to go. It’s going to get even hotter as late morning soon approaches early afternoon. She doesn’t want to be out in the sun at today’s peak of 90 degrees.
As they eat inside the car, Kevin snickers at Trudy’s biscuits with extra gravy. She got an order of extra hash browns, too, and she’s sniping as Kevin chuckles turn into full blown laughter.
“Oh, bite me. I try to be a good example at home for Randall, but a girl’s gotta have her carbs on the weekends.” She shakes her head at his shaking shoulders. “You’ll understand when you capture your own ball and chain. The things you do for the people you love…”
“Yeah, sure,” he utters, his laughter dying down.
Trudy looks at him. “Despite the fact that you and the other nitwits get on my nerves, I’m not worried at all that you’ll find that some day. Unless you want to be stupid and clueless like Nitwit 1 and
2.” She rolls her eyes at the terrible timing, never ending saga of Burgess and Ruzek. “Or unless you want to work yourself into an early grave. Or mess up your circadian rhythms being out at night all the time. That must be what you want with the things you’re doing, right?”
Just like Trudy to clock you directly and without qualms. And they hadn’t even made it to the garden work, yet.
Kevin guesses he shouldn’t be surprised. Getting pulled into the manual labor was unlucky, but Platt was already on a mission by coming to his house directly. She lifts her eyebrows expectantly, as if to say I’m waiting.
He gulps down his orange juice.
“I don’t know what to do with my life, Platt. Those kids are my life.”
She’s quiet for a moment. If she’s waiting for him to say more, he doesn’t know. But that’s really all he has to say. It’s the root crux of his problem, laid out. She turns back to her to go plate, eating the last of her hash browns.
“You’ve been taking care of those kids your whole life. I know you’d never look at them like a burden. You love them, they’re your siblings for chrissake. But moving them away might’ve not only been the best thing for them. It might be the best for you, too. A chance for you to experience life without as many responsibilities? Albeit, they were responsibilities you took without hesitation or complaining, but still. Maybe this is what you need? Some time to figure out who you are outside of being a caretaker.”
Everything that she’s saying makes sense. It feels wise and something to consider. He just can’t get himself to see from that perspective yet. What’s wrong with taking care of the people you love? Even when it’s been hard, it’s what he’s loved to do. Still, Trudy means well and if it can get him out of this funk, he’ll at least mull over her words.
“You smart every now and then, Sarg,” he jokes as they get out.
She huffs at him as they get started. If he was thinking of hitting the gym later today, he had reneged on the idea as the tasks progressed. Platt had him carrying heavy bags of soil, wood for boards, and water cans every which way around the grounds. Beads of sweat rippled down his face and arms. A lot of the fencing work for the plots was already done but it took a solid hour for them to lay and arrange the soil for the plots. He never wanted to hold a shovel again.
Once the bulk of the work was done, Trudy used a cloth to wipe at the dewy sheen at her temples. “While you’re here, I happened to have another ulterior motive.”
Kevin froze, drumming his fingers against the shovel.
“Remember that alderman who got murdered earlier this year? Slain like in front of his law office in Oakland?”
Kevin nods. “Yeah, I saw in the news not too long ago that the trial is set to start in a few months.” “Exactly,” Trudy assents. “You didn’t hear this from me but an eyewitness got a winning photo of the
shooter fleeing the scene. The details are being kept under wraps, but essentially it was a murder for hire and the ASA’s office is pushing hard to nab whoever was calling the shots.”
“Okay?”
“And push comes to shove. Scary, hired assassin is turning out not to be so scary when he’s got three life sentences hanging over his head. Desperate is more like it. And whoever’s calling the shots is also desperate. Desperate enough to track down whoever took that photo.”
Kevin’s head starts to stir, connecting the dots. “Who took the photo?”
“Apparently, the most wanted woman in the city. And not by the police.” Trudy takes a casual look around her, confirming there’s no one snooping around to eavesdrop. “It’s a young woman who was there coincidentally. She was there to meet at the alderman’s law office to discuss her father’s will.
Wrong place, wrong time sort of thing. ASA Stone wouldn’t dare have her testify in public so he got her testimony in a closed deposition instead. They still found her. Ransacked her apartment, killed her cat, and left dead rats all over. It’s pure luck she didn’t get snatched. Based on video footage, there were two masked men still inside her unit. Had she taken an extra few steps inside, she’d be dead.”
“Damn,” Kevin blows out a stressed breath.
“Exactly,” Trudy agrees. “She got put into a protective detail but these slime-balls are sneaky. Her safe house got leaked.”
“How the hell did that happen?” Platt pins him with a stare.
Because how does a safe-house get leaked? There’s dozens all over the city and some outside of the state. They’re all rented or owned under different fiduciaries, randomly chosen for certain assignments, with only a select few knowing who and where a unit might be occupied. Being on Intelligence, Kevin has worked cases directly where even he or all of the team is privy to where a possible witness or perp might be stashed away. Not to mention people get hoped around occasionally as a further measure. It was a very rare instance for that sort of intel to get out.
That’s when it clicks. “You think there’s a mole.”
She stares again, but this time with a subtle nod of endorsement. “Damn,” he mutters again.
He lived in a city that was no stranger to corruption and evilness. He encountered it often. It’s how he knows that this is more than just your everyday homicide. The oxymoron is not lost on him, alas. But the pieces are coming together, painting a picture of conspiracy instead of a crime of passion. There were larger forces at play here.
Some innocent woman was now wrapped up in this and a man was dead. This world was never fair. At some point in his empathy, Kevin realizes that Trudy is waiting. Waiting to continue.
He falters once more. “What do you need from me?”
“Xania’s handler, that’s the woman, wants to switch up tactics. Keep her hidden in plain sight instead of through the proper channels. With the caveat that Major Crimes lays out of false hints as a means to drawing out more of these henchmen and getting at least one of them to flip on head honcho.”
“And how does the handler want to do that?” Kevin squints, having a hint at where this could be going.
“Well, we need to hide her off the books, so to speak.” Trudy informs. “Somewhere they’re not going to think to look.”
Kevin sighs, pinching his nose, “Mind you, you just gave me a whole speech about being a caretaker.”
“Well less of a caretaker, and more like a fiancé.” “A fian-WHAT?”
“And possible wife, but hopefully we might not get that far.” “Trudy, what the hell?”
She holds her hands up. “Look, I know, but like I said, completely hiding her away obviously didn’t work the first time. Major Crimes wants to lay traps while still protecting Xania. The news will spread about you getting engaged and no one in the force will think twice of it. Then the trap laying begins with subtle hint dropping about where Xania could be. No one’s obviously going to connect two and two until maybe Ruz or Antonio start blabbing out loud to people they shouldn’t be.” Platt goes on, explaining the plan exactly how her good friend leading Major Crimes had. “Meanwhile, Sergeant Riba and her team will have been focused on narrowing down potential moles. Ultimately, it’ll go a long way to finding out who’s the mastermind behind all this.”
Kevin shakes his head, as if that’ll help wrap his mind around all of this. He’d done a lot of crazy firsts in his over five years on the job, but this was truly something else.
He chuckles humorlessly.
Silence takes the space, the sun beaming down on them as they stand amidst freshly drawn plots and unharvested potential.
“I feel for this woman, but this is crazy.”
“There are worse fates than having a pretty lady in your midst. I mean, you’re doing it right now and you seem fine.”
Kevin rolls his eyes.
“Are you sure about this?”
“Riba once single handedly took down one of the most screwed up, police-involved larceny schemes back in the day. Even if I can’t fully see the vision yet, I trust her implicitly.”
His shoulders slump in fated resignation. “I guess I’m proposing,” he finally says. “Good, hope she says yes.”
He chuckles.
“I’m not joking.” Trudy scowls. They gather their things, loading them into the car. “Princess hasn’t exactly been the easiest to deal with, I’m hearing, so good luck with that.”
Kevin hops into the passenger seat, immediately blasting the A/C once his sergeant starts the car up. “Mediterranean for lunch. Gotta compensate with something light after that breakfast,” she says.
He pulls out his phone. “Ordering you a chocolate cake for dessert.”
She cuts her eyes, mumbling something about having to deal with Mouch’s disappointed, puppy eyes.
“So how’s this going to go?” Kevin asks. The ball seems to have already started rolling and now
there’s logistics to sort through.
“Riba’s going to reach out. I’ll let you know. Could be tonight.” She leaves it at that.
Instead of eating in the car again, Trudy gets out so she can charge her phone. They eat at Kevin’s breakfast table, her chatting with Mouch and the spouses telling each other when they’ll be home. Kevin is left alone to his thoughts, over a grilled lamb wrap and crispy potatoes. He looks around the house.
Shit, he has to finish cleaning. He got through his bedroom and bathroom this morning, but the kitchen and living room need some love. And he’s got to make sure there’s adequate food in the fridge. He barely gets by with cooking and the last several weeks have comprised of frozen meals and fast food.
“Earth to Kevin.” Platt barks. She’s standing with her bag. Her food is in the trash can and her arm is outstretched. “I said I want to get home. Randall’s finishing up with his shift at Molly’s. Hand me my damn cake.”
He hands it to her.
“By the way,” her expression turns careful. “Voight is back on the team starting Monday. Halstead is still running things for the foreseeable future, but the Deputy Chief reinstated him for active duty now that he’s been cleared.”
Kevin nearly gasps. “Get out.”
Platt shrugs as if to say what can you do?
“Isn’t the Denny Woods investigation still ongoing? How did he manage to get Chief Hugo to agree on that?”
“I don’t know,” she shakes her head. “And him and Al have been so hush hush, I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
“I mean, a buried body with Voight’s DNA is evidence I can believe in. The fact that he’s not being upfront with anyone doesn’t help.”
Denny Woods, an independent auditor for CPD investigations, had been in charge of reviewing proceedings from every single Chicago Police Department case with a fine tooth comb. What he found was a range of perfect, flawless procedure to stark, outright corruption and abuse of power. It was his job to recommend actionable solutions for pitfalls and even retribution and punishment, if needed, depending on the circumstances. Inconsistencies in a long-solved case from decades ago must’ve been a frustrating find but Denny was like a dog with a bone. And what he found was a shaky confession, incomplete police reports, and decayed remains of one of the case’s previous suspects, hidden in the silos.
Voight had been questioned and subsequently placed on leave, with rumors floating that an innocent man was in prison and a perverse sense of justice had been committed against the real culprit.
Trudy shakes her head. “What can you do? Business as usual, right?”
It shouldn’t be. People who are given the role to protect and serve one’s community shouldn’t be able to take advantage of their position and get away with it. He knew joining this unit that Voight skirted the line often, but his brazen, depraved spirit was becoming more and more apparent as of late. They’re supposed to be better than that.
Still, he leaves it at that. “I guess.”
“It’ll all work out in the end,” she says as he stands and walks her to the door. She looks up at him, her eyes leaded with significance. “For you, too. Things seem shaky right now but everything’s going to be okay. With you. With Jordan and Vinessa, too.”
Once Kevin bids her with a thankful goodbye, he leans against his heavy door for a moment of grounding. Things have to get better. They have no choice.
SYNOPSIS: Kevin Atwater gets handed his most unconventional assignment yet- falsifying an engagement and subsequent marriage, to a witness involved in a political assassination case. Xania Dempsey was attempting to get her life back on track after being mounted under her deceased father's debts, and inadvertently witnesses a heinous act of violence that makes her a target. In the background of their lives, Kevin and Xania also grapple with complicated family relationships, grief, and hardship.
WARNINGS: language, discussions of violence/murder, discussions of political/police corruption, complicated family dynamics, grief/mourning
WC: 3.1k
The bright Chicago sun pores through in rays through Kevin’s slitted blinds. His eyes flutter in adjustment. He stretches his limbs against the mattress, curling out the cricks in his muscles. He hasn’t been sleeping well. The house is too quiet. He’s used to Jordan blasting music through his Bluetooth speaker or Vinessa FaceTiming with her friends. Ever since they moved to Texas to live with aunt Jannie, the household has taken on a quiet, unsettling still.
He sits with a grimace, rubbing his eyes.
It’s been over a month and the unease that fills the brownstone has yet to fade. These days, he’s barely home, grabbing overtime work with enthusiasm or spending the evenings perusing the neighborhood bar. Burgess, who knew how much it cut Kevin to send his siblings away, had been checking on him frequently, but less so, now that she had starting dating this prosecutor. Ruzek had gone out to the bar with him a few times, but he’d been taking up more undercover assignments recently.
Everyone’s life was business as usual and Kevin’s still felt thrown off axis.
His feelings contort from guilt to devastation to disappointment, on any given basis. And still, life goes on and he can’t get stuck behind. So he rises from bed and takes today as the day that has the chance to be better than the last.
His face and knuckles feel sore and he’s not surprised at the bruise that seems to have flowered his back over night. A suspect getting the jump on him yesterday on a raid was his wake up call. He couldn’t continue going through the motions. Something had to change.
And right now, that meant sprucing up. After washing his face and brushing his teeth, he grabs the razor and lines his hair up. Then, he trims his mustache and beard, effacing some of the excess scruff that had begun to sprout. Somewhere in the process, he turns on a playlist, one of Jordan’s favorites, and sweeps up the stray hair now on the floor. Colognes and lotions rearranged. The medicine cabinet gets back to neat organization. His Saturday morning is well spent and flies through quickly once half of his brownstone is cleaned and vacuumed.
He puts the vac back into his linen closet and as the hip hop track transitions to a Sade deep cut, Kevin realizes thats someone’s banging on his door.
“The hell?”
“What are you, deaf?”
Trudy stands in his doorway, with her perpetually irritated attitude on display. “I was cleaning, damn.” He replies.
“Oh good, you’re nesting. That means you’re in the mood to come help at the community garden.” Kevin’s face morphed. “Huh?”
Trudy folds her arms, not letting up. “Remember when I did you the favor of getting you that overtime shift doing security at the Nerlander? What did I tell you?”
Recognition begrudgingly flits his features.
“Exactly. ‘You owe me.’ The time has come. I need some muscles at the garden. Got a bunch of soil I need to lay if I want to get everything planted in season.”
Some wealthy tycoon had recently donated millions of dollars to the city to combat the plague of food deserts within the more disparate neighborhoods. Part of the initiative was a call to action for community members to get directly involved with the efforts and Trudy, the ultimate green thumb, had gotten involved with the new garden being started down the block from the 21st district. While Kevin admired the initiative, he (and the rest of Intelligence) had been dodging Platt’s not so suggestions to help with the manual labor.
His mouth was open and empty. There was no excuse he could think of, especially not one that
would get his Sergeant off his doorstep. He blows a resigned sigh. He supposes the productivity kick he was on should only keep going.
He doesn’t bother closing the door. He’s already dressed. His keys are by the door and he nabs his wallet off his nightstand, just down the hall.
He puts his shoes on, not unaware of the way Trudy peers at him with a scrutinizing gaze.
“Glad you’re alive by the way,” Trudy remarks. “Was afraid this was going to be a wellness check, the way Halstead said you got knocked on your ass yesterday.”
Kevin smirks. “The only thing that hurts is my pride.” His laces are tied, so he stands back up and he just barely conceals the wince as that tender spot on his back aches with the movement.
“Mmm.”
Trudy needn’t say nothing else. She doesn’t have to.
They’re out the door and Kevin throws back at her, “We stopping for breakfast, by the way.”
She allows this but decrees that breakfast will be to go. It’s going to get even hotter as late morning soon approaches early afternoon. She doesn’t want to be out in the sun at today’s peak of 90 degrees.
As they eat inside the car, Kevin snickers at Trudy’s biscuits with extra gravy. She got an order of extra hash browns, too, and she’s sniping as Kevin chuckles turn into full blown laughter.
“Oh, bite me. I try to be a good example at home for Randall, but a girl’s gotta have her carbs on the weekends.” She shakes her head at his shaking shoulders. “You’ll understand when you capture your own ball and chain. The things you do for the people you love…”
“Yeah, sure,” he utters, his laughter dying down.
Trudy looks at him. “Despite the fact that you and the other nitwits get on my nerves, I’m not worried at all that you’ll find that some day. Unless you want to be stupid and clueless like Nitwit 1 and
2.” She rolls her eyes at the terrible timing, never ending saga of Burgess and Ruzek. “Or unless you want to work yourself into an early grave. Or mess up your circadian rhythms being out at night all the time. That must be what you want with the things you’re doing, right?”
Just like Trudy to clock you directly and without qualms. And they hadn’t even made it to the garden work, yet.
Kevin guesses he shouldn’t be surprised. Getting pulled into the manual labor was unlucky, but Platt was already on a mission by coming to his house directly. She lifts her eyebrows expectantly, as if to say I’m waiting.
He gulps down his orange juice.
“I don’t know what to do with my life, Platt. Those kids are my life.”
She’s quiet for a moment. If she’s waiting for him to say more, he doesn’t know. But that’s really all he has to say. It’s the root crux of his problem, laid out. She turns back to her to go plate, eating the last of her hash browns.
“You’ve been taking care of those kids your whole life. I know you’d never look at them like a burden. You love them, they’re your siblings for chrissake. But moving them away might’ve not only been the best thing for them. It might be the best for you, too. A chance for you to experience life without as many responsibilities? Albeit, they were responsibilities you took without hesitation or complaining, but still. Maybe this is what you need? Some time to figure out who you are outside of being a caretaker.”
Everything that she’s saying makes sense. It feels wise and something to consider. He just can’t get himself to see from that perspective yet. What’s wrong with taking care of the people you love? Even when it’s been hard, it’s what he’s loved to do. Still, Trudy means well and if it can get him out of this funk, he’ll at least mull over her words.
“You smart every now and then, Sarg,” he jokes as they get out.
She huffs at him as they get started. If he was thinking of hitting the gym later today, he had reneged on the idea as the tasks progressed. Platt had him carrying heavy bags of soil, wood for boards, and water cans every which way around the grounds. Beads of sweat rippled down his face and arms. A lot of the fencing work for the plots was already done but it took a solid hour for them to lay and arrange the soil for the plots. He never wanted to hold a shovel again.
Once the bulk of the work was done, Trudy used a cloth to wipe at the dewy sheen at her temples. “While you’re here, I happened to have another ulterior motive.”
Kevin froze, drumming his fingers against the shovel.
“Remember that alderman who got murdered earlier this year? Slain like in front of his law office in Oakland?”
Kevin nods. “Yeah, I saw in the news not too long ago that the trial is set to start in a few months.” “Exactly,” Trudy assents. “You didn’t hear this from me but an eyewitness got a winning photo of the
shooter fleeing the scene. The details are being kept under wraps, but essentially it was a murder for hire and the ASA’s office is pushing hard to nab whoever was calling the shots.”
“Okay?”
“And push comes to shove. Scary, hired assassin is turning out not to be so scary when he’s got three life sentences hanging over his head. Desperate is more like it. And whoever’s calling the shots is also desperate. Desperate enough to track down whoever took that photo.”
Kevin’s head starts to stir, connecting the dots. “Who took the photo?”
“Apparently, the most wanted woman in the city. And not by the police.” Trudy takes a casual look around her, confirming there’s no one snooping around to eavesdrop. “It’s a young woman who was there coincidentally. She was there to meet at the alderman’s law office to discuss her father’s will.
Wrong place, wrong time sort of thing. ASA Stone wouldn’t dare have her testify in public so he got her testimony in a closed deposition instead. They still found her. Ransacked her apartment, killed her cat, and left dead rats all over. It’s pure luck she didn’t get snatched. Based on video footage, there were two masked men still inside her unit. Had she taken an extra few steps inside, she’d be dead.”
“Damn,” Kevin blows out a stressed breath.
“Exactly,” Trudy agrees. “She got put into a protective detail but these slime-balls are sneaky. Her safe house got leaked.”
“How the hell did that happen?” Platt pins him with a stare.
Because how does a safe-house get leaked? There’s dozens all over the city and some outside of the state. They’re all rented or owned under different fiduciaries, randomly chosen for certain assignments, with only a select few knowing who and where a unit might be occupied. Being on Intelligence, Kevin has worked cases directly where even he or all of the team is privy to where a possible witness or perp might be stashed away. Not to mention people get hoped around occasionally as a further measure. It was a very rare instance for that sort of intel to get out.
That’s when it clicks. “You think there’s a mole.”
She stares again, but this time with a subtle nod of endorsement. “Damn,” he mutters again.
He lived in a city that was no stranger to corruption and evilness. He encountered it often. It’s how he knows that this is more than just your everyday homicide. The oxymoron is not lost on him, alas. But the pieces are coming together, painting a picture of conspiracy instead of a crime of passion. There were larger forces at play here.
Some innocent woman was now wrapped up in this and a man was dead. This world was never fair. At some point in his empathy, Kevin realizes that Trudy is waiting. Waiting to continue.
He falters once more. “What do you need from me?”
“Xania’s handler, that’s the woman, wants to switch up tactics. Keep her hidden in plain sight instead of through the proper channels. With the caveat that Major Crimes lays out of false hints as a means to drawing out more of these henchmen and getting at least one of them to flip on head honcho.”
“And how does the handler want to do that?” Kevin squints, having a hint at where this could be going.
“Well, we need to hide her off the books, so to speak.” Trudy informs. “Somewhere they’re not going to think to look.”
Kevin sighs, pinching his nose, “Mind you, you just gave me a whole speech about being a caretaker.”
“Well less of a caretaker, and more like a fiancé.” “A fian-WHAT?”
“And possible wife, but hopefully we might not get that far.” “Trudy, what the hell?”
She holds her hands up. “Look, I know, but like I said, completely hiding her away obviously didn’t work the first time. Major Crimes wants to lay traps while still protecting Xania. The news will spread about you getting engaged and no one in the force will think twice of it. Then the trap laying begins with subtle hint dropping about where Xania could be. No one’s obviously going to connect two and two until maybe Ruz or Antonio start blabbing out loud to people they shouldn’t be.” Platt goes on, explaining the plan exactly how her good friend leading Major Crimes had. “Meanwhile, Sergeant Riba and her team will have been focused on narrowing down potential moles. Ultimately, it’ll go a long way to finding out who’s the mastermind behind all this.”
Kevin shakes his head, as if that’ll help wrap his mind around all of this. He’d done a lot of crazy firsts in his over five years on the job, but this was truly something else.
He chuckles humorlessly.
Silence takes the space, the sun beaming down on them as they stand amidst freshly drawn plots and unharvested potential.
“I feel for this woman, but this is crazy.”
“There are worse fates than having a pretty lady in your midst. I mean, you’re doing it right now and you seem fine.”
Kevin rolls his eyes.
“Are you sure about this?”
“Riba once single handedly took down one of the most screwed up, police-involved larceny schemes back in the day. Even if I can’t fully see the vision yet, I trust her implicitly.”
His shoulders slump in fated resignation. “I guess I’m proposing,” he finally says. “Good, hope she says yes.”
He chuckles.
“I’m not joking.” Trudy scowls. They gather their things, loading them into the car. “Princess hasn’t exactly been the easiest to deal with, I’m hearing, so good luck with that.”
Kevin hops into the passenger seat, immediately blasting the A/C once his sergeant starts the car up. “Mediterranean for lunch. Gotta compensate with something light after that breakfast,” she says.
He pulls out his phone. “Ordering you a chocolate cake for dessert.”
She cuts her eyes, mumbling something about having to deal with Mouch’s disappointed, puppy eyes.
“So how’s this going to go?” Kevin asks. The ball seems to have already started rolling and now
there’s logistics to sort through.
“Riba’s going to reach out. I’ll let you know. Could be tonight.” She leaves it at that.
Instead of eating in the car again, Trudy gets out so she can charge her phone. They eat at Kevin’s breakfast table, her chatting with Mouch and the spouses telling each other when they’ll be home. Kevin is left alone to his thoughts, over a grilled lamb wrap and crispy potatoes. He looks around the house.
Shit, he has to finish cleaning. He got through his bedroom and bathroom this morning, but the kitchen and living room need some love. And he’s got to make sure there’s adequate food in the fridge. He barely gets by with cooking and the last several weeks have comprised of frozen meals and fast food.
“Earth to Kevin.” Platt barks. She’s standing with her bag. Her food is in the trash can and her arm is outstretched. “I said I want to get home. Randall’s finishing up with his shift at Molly’s. Hand me my damn cake.”
He hands it to her.
“By the way,” her expression turns careful. “Voight is back on the team starting Monday. Halstead is still running things for the foreseeable future, but the Deputy Chief reinstated him for active duty now that he’s been cleared.”
Kevin nearly gasps. “Get out.”
Platt shrugs as if to say what can you do?
“Isn’t the Denny Woods investigation still ongoing? How did he manage to get Chief Hugo to agree on that?”
“I don’t know,” she shakes her head. “And him and Al have been so hush hush, I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
“I mean, a buried body with Voight’s DNA is evidence I can believe in. The fact that he’s not being upfront with anyone doesn’t help.”
Denny Woods, an independent auditor for CPD investigations, had been in charge of reviewing proceedings from every single Chicago Police Department case with a fine tooth comb. What he found was a range of perfect, flawless procedure to stark, outright corruption and abuse of power. It was his job to recommend actionable solutions for pitfalls and even retribution and punishment, if needed, depending on the circumstances. Inconsistencies in a long-solved case from decades ago must’ve been a frustrating find but Denny was like a dog with a bone. And what he found was a shaky confession, incomplete police reports, and decayed remains of one of the case’s previous suspects, hidden in the silos.
Voight had been questioned and subsequently placed on leave, with rumors floating that an innocent man was in prison and a perverse sense of justice had been committed against the real culprit.
Trudy shakes her head. “What can you do? Business as usual, right?”
It shouldn’t be. People who are given the role to protect and serve one’s community shouldn’t be able to take advantage of their position and get away with it. He knew joining this unit that Voight skirted the line often, but his brazen, depraved spirit was becoming more and more apparent as of late. They’re supposed to be better than that.
Still, he leaves it at that. “I guess.”
“It’ll all work out in the end,” she says as he stands and walks her to the door. She looks up at him, her eyes leaded with significance. “For you, too. Things seem shaky right now but everything’s going to be okay. With you. With Jordan and Vinessa, too.”
Once Kevin bids her with a thankful goodbye, he leans against his heavy door for a moment of grounding. Things have to get better. They have no choice.
honestly one of my favorite things about fanfic is when you can see the canon influences come out in really subtle ways. like a canon line thats mentioned once as a throwaway is suddenly the entire premise for a fic or it influences the characterization or something. its just so cool to see how people weave their ideas around a source material, especially if its not a detail i'd thought about before
a big collection of questions based on color language! all questions under the cut 💕
❤️ RED ❤️
1. What is the easiest way to make your OC angry?
2. What aspects of a person—appearance, personality or otherwise—are attractive to your OC?
3. Does your OC enjoy sex?
4. How important is the concept of strength to your OC?
5. Is your OC vengeful?
6. Are people afraid of your OC? If so, is that fear warranted?
7. What would others consider the most attractive part of your OC?
🧡 ORANGE 🧡
1. How would your OC describe themselves as a child?
2. Does your OC embrace or suppress their emotions?
3. What first impression do strangers get from your OC?
4. Is your OC a risk-taker? Do they take well-calculated risks or are they impulsive?
5. Is it easy for your OC to step out of their comfort zone?
6. Does your OC hold others to the same standards they hold themselves to?
7. What is your OC’s favorite season?
💛 YELLOW 💛
1. Is your OC an optimist or a pessimist?
2. How energetic is your OC?
3. Does your OC lie easily? What scenario(s) would justify lying in your OC’s opinion?
4. Does your OC have many secrets? Would they ever tell a person these secrets?
5. Does your OC have a strict morning routine? If so, what is it?
6. How cautious is your OC?
7. Is your OC humorous?
💚 GREEN 💚
1. Does your OC get jealousy easily?
2. Does your OC believe in the concept of luck?
3. How much does your OC enjoy nature? Do they enjoy being outdoors?
4. What is your OC like when they’re sick? Do they try to push through it or are they completely bed-ridden?
5. Is world peace something your OC believes is possible?
6. Is your OC generous? If so, is their generosity conditional?
7. How adaptable is your OC? Are they open to change?
🩵 CYAN 🩵
1. Does your OC get stressed easily? Are they cool under pressure or are they easily made anxious?
2. What brings comfort to your OC (person, place, object, etc.)?
3. How easily distracted is your OC?
4. Is your OC more humble or arrogant?
5. Does your OC like to swim?
6. Are your OC’s decisions influenced more by their head or by their heart?
7. How observant is your OC and how much does it affect them? Are they clueless or nearly paranoid?
💙 BLUE 💙
1. Is your OC confident in themselves?
2. Is your OC comfortable letting others see them cry?
3. How independent is your OC?
4. How trusting is your OC and does it have an effect on their relationships?
5. Does your OC have a comforting presence?
6. Can your OC stand up for themselves?
7. Is your OC structured or do they go with the flow?
💜 PURPLE 💜
1. What is one of your OC’s biggest dreams and do they believe that dream will come true?
2. How affluent is your OC? Does their level of wealth matter to them?
3. Does your OC daydream often?
4. Does your OC have any artistic hobbies?
5. Does your OC have a commanding presence?
6. Is your OC book-smart or street-smart?
7. Is your OC stylish? How much do they care about the clothes they wear?
🩷 PINK 🩷
1. Does your OC like traditional romance?
2. How playful is your OC?
3. What is your OC’s favorite love language?
4. How good is your OC with children?
5. Does your OC believe in soulmates? Have they ever thought someone was their soulmate?
6. Does your OC have a favorite flower? If so, what is it?
7. How easy is it for your OC to empathize with other people?
🤎 BROWN 🤎
1. Is your OC reliable?
2. What animal do your associate with your OC?
3. How protective is your OC?
4. Is your OC polite?
5. How much does your OC enjoy traveling?
6. Does your OC abide by the rules?
7. Is your OC a homebody? Are they consistent with doing chores?
🩶 GRAY 🩶
1. How forgetful is your OC?
2. Is your OC open to compromise?
3. Has your OC ever thought about having children? Do they believe they’d be a good parent?
4. Is your OC emotionally open with the people around them?
5. How mature is your OC?
6. What is one of your OC’s happiest memories?
7. How helpful is your OC’s advice? Do others come to your OC for their advice?
🖤 BLACK 🖤
1. How far will your OC go to achieve their goals?
2. Does your OC have a strict bedtime routine? If so, what is it?
3. What is one of your OC’s greatest fears and how much does it affect them?
4. Has your OC ever broken a promise?
5. Is your OC comfortable at fancy gatherings?
6. What does your OC have nightmares about?
7. How well does your OC sleep?
🤍 WHITE 🤍
1. How much does your OC care about cleanliness?
2. Is your OC religious? How do they feel about religion?
3. Will your OC take care of someone while they’re sick? Are they good at it?
4. Is your OC a perfectionist?
5. Has your OC ever upended their life and restarted from square one? If not, have they considered it?
6. Does your OC idolize their past?
7. Does your OC enjoy the simple pleasures? Are they satisfied with the bare minimum?
sorry but someone assuming you have "left a fandom" when you don't post about it a lot anymore feels like bilbo coming home to the sackville bagginses having him presumed dead and selling all his stuff. girl i was just on a little quest????
SYNOPSIS: Kevin Atwater gets handed his most unconventional assignment yet- falsifying an engagement and subsequent marriage, to a witness involved in a political assassination case. Xania Dempsey was attempting to get her life back on track after being mounted under her deceased father's debts, and inadvertently witnesses a heinous act of violence that makes her a target. In the background of their lives, Kevin and Xania also grapple with complicated family relationships, grief, and hardship.
WARNINGS: language, explicit violence/murder, eventual smut, corruption within government and police organizations, complicated family dynamics, grief/mourning
yousharknotpass
kianamaiart
titsay
tangentwithtanner
