The reader works as the rookie partner for famed Lieutenant Detective Mark Hoffman. They find clues that he isn't what he seems. You will continuously find clues pointing in his direction, all the while the FBI is breathing down the Department's neck. But no matter what happens, Mark is determined to keep them safe because they belong to him.
Context; Takes place during the 4th movie– this is an AU where some characters (listed below) are alive!!
CHARACTERS: John Kramer, Amanda Young, Lawrence Gordon, Adam Stanheight, Mark Hoffman (main character), Allison Kerry, Daniel Rigg, Fisk, Matt Gibson, Peter Strahm, Lindsey Perez, Erickson, Cowan.
Words: 2,369
Warnings: Contains triggering topics! Reader will get (almost) stabbed! Please read with caution
Carefully blowing out the Nag Champa incense and putting it in the holder, the bluish-white smoke began to rise and swirl around the space of my apartment. I had been rushing around my apartment to clean it for the last ten minutes in preparation for my partner coming over to discuss a very important matter. On the granite countertop, was a couple of styrofoam piping-hot Chinese take-out containers, along with the cassette tape next to my plate.
About five minutes after seven, thunderous knocks came from the front door startling me out of a peaceful state. I smoothed my hands against my sweatpants as I speed-walked towards the door. Peering out of the peephole, I saw an austere-looking Mark standing outside. Unlocking my door, I invited him and locked the door after he strolled in. He wore black jeans and on his shirt read in faded, scratchy lettering, ‘Slipknot.’ Normally, it would've been jarring to see him in such casual clothing, if I hadn't gone out for drinks every Friday night with him. I gestured toward the black-and-white granite table as a silent proposition for him to sit. He accepted, pulling the dining chair from under the counter and taking a seat. “Didja know the FBI are getting involved now? There is some dick in the department now, Strahm’s his name. Thinks he knows everything just ‘cause he is from the Bureau,” He stared down at the Chinese food container, seeming indifferent.
‘Fuck, the FBI?’ Were my exact thoughts, and I brought my fingernail up to chew on it. His gaze flicked up to mine when I sat across from him. “What did you want to talk to me about, y/n?” Mark’s voice was serious and modulated, contrasted to mine which came out tremulous. “Remember when I was cleaning your office…?” I wouldn’t meet his intent eyes, opting to peer down at the cassette as if it was my impending doom. Mark put his elbows on the table and leaned closer to me, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. The first time he has shown emotion since coming to my apartment. “‘S’okay, go ahead, I won’t be upset if you did something. The whole reason why we are partners is cos we can help hash each other's shit out,” He prompted me forward, lulling me into a sense of security with him. I took a deep breath, picking the cassette tape up and sliding it across the table to him. Mark caught the tape, seeming to freeze as he focused on it. He opened the cassette, reading the words ‘PLAY ME,’ as he turned the clear/grey object over in his hands. His eyes were cold and pensive as he stared at me. “Where in my office did you find this?” Mark’s voice was steady and monotonous. He tried keeping his voice level, despite the pure vexatious lava rising in his throat.
“Under your desk… Mark, I’m scared, what if Jigsaw is after you? Please don’t leave…” My brain overflooded my words, and what became of a small confession turned into a giant secret I had spilled. Bubbling up like a fountain of worry, I had just wanted my partner of so many years to be safe from untold dangers. The thought of him being put in one of those torture traps shook me to the core. I walked over and stood next to him, I grabbed his forearm, almost begging him. “Jigsaw isn’t after me. I promise. And not after you either, I will make sure of it. I have something to take care of,” Mark rose from his chair, picking up the cassette and tape and slipping them into his pocket. Once he neared the door, he paused.
Mark’s head turned back to me and observed me, seeming to notice my anxious body language. I was still standing by the chair he was once in, dumbfounded. My head scrambled for a solution… but couldn’t find one. He ambled over to me, wrapping both arms around me firmly. One hand gripped my waist, and the other pressed on the highest part of my back securely. My mouth was agape. An intelligible sound had come out of my throat. My hands rested on his chest as he held me. “I care about you a lot, I love you. I will take care of this, I promise,” His voice was soft, and sotto voce. ‘The threat of losing me is freaking him so badly, that’s why he is saying that… Nonetheless, hearing him say those words, alarmed me. I hope he feels the same, and it wasn’t just an ‘I love you,’ as a best friend/family sense…’ Mark planted a gentle kiss on the top of my head and left.
–
That was the last time I saw Mark. I returned to work the next morning, and he wasn’t there. Instead, I was greeted by FBI agents that were scattered around the department. I was pouring a cup of coffee for myself at the beverage station when a man around six feet tall, had cobalt-blue eyes, and wore a white suit and black tie. His suit jacket was off, probably somewhere in his temporary office. He sauntered up next to me and began pouring himself a cup of coffee. “I don’t believe we’ve met, what’s your name?” He inquired, propping his body up against the table, inviting me to conversate. I glanced at him, pouring a tablespoon of sugar into my own cup. “Y/n… I am Detective Hoffman’s assistant, and who might you be?” My voice was low. ‘This might be the dick that Mark mentioned when he came over yesterday.’
“Ah, yeah I met him last night. The name is Special Agent Strahm. Or just, Peter Strahm.”
‘That’s the bastard,’
The man jutted his free hand out, offering it to me to greet him. I wrapped my hand around his, gripping it firmly and shaking it only once. I went back to stirring my coffee, adding creamer to it. “Y’know, your partner is not very nice…” Peter sucked air through his teeth, shaking his head as if he’d disapproved of Hoffman. I rolled my eyes, instantly understanding how Mark felt last night. “He is a good man, just a bit passionate. His heart is in the right place, I promise,” I stared into the blonde coffee I had made for myself. I only made coffee for when Hoffman was here, always making a black coffee for him and one for myself. But now, I noticed how much I didn’t want it anymore. Resting both of my hands on the table and taking a big sigh, I glared at the coffee pot which sputtered more oil-aromatic liquid into its pot. “You alright?” Peter asked, his head tilting a bit. He put his paper cup full of black nectar on the table, stepping closer to me as if he was prepared to console his new troubled workmate. “Yeah, yeah… I am fine…” I moved away from the beverage table, putting my hand on my forehead. “Just a lot of work to do, y’know?”
“Oh, that’s understandable. If you need anything, just ask me, my boss Erickson or my partner, Lindsey, we’d be happy to assist you on anything involving this Jigsaw mess,” ‘Maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy after all…’ Giving him a swift nod and leaving my lukewarm coffee on the table, I made a bee-line for Mark’s office.
—
Puffs of white clouds came from my parted lips. My body was aching from how cold it was. I was walking to the police department at three am to get a headstart, half hoping to see him and partly to work a little more with the FBI on the Jigsaw case. The sooner this bastard is caught, the sooner my mind can be at ease that Mark was safe. At this point, he hasn’t been to work in two full days.
The streets were quiet, and the sounds that filled them were cloudy puffs of air that came from me and the repetitive clicks of my shoes on the concrete. I hugged myself in hopes of keeping all of the warm air inside of my trench coat, but this action didn’t do me much justice against the wintery breeze. The tips of my ears and nose were freezing, and upon noticing this I quickened my pace.
The sky was still dark and hardly any stars were visible due to the city’s light pollution. Various buildings and lamp-posts had lit up my path though, and it was nowhere near dark. I always felt jittery walking through the city at night, even though it was just early morning. It was still just as dead silent.
The sound of a glass-bottle shattering made me turn around and stop in my tracks. Following the glass breaking, a cat yowling echoed in an alleyway that sounded out nearby. Standing completely still and straining to hear if it was safe to continue my walk, my scanning eyes landed on a pure white cat scampering from the alleyway and across the road hastily. I placed a hand on my chest to calm my breathing. It was probably the cat that had been the source of the glass breaking.
Stepping backward leisurely, my back hit something solid. Gasping, I whipped around and my eyes made contact with a tall cloaked person. They reached out to me, and their hands were gloved. I couldn’t make out the person's identity. A scream tore from my throat, and I sprinted towards the alleyway. Heavy booted footsteps ‘click-tap!’ and got brisker the closer they got to me, ‘click-tap!’, ‘click-tap!’, ‘click-tap!’.
It was a dead end. In order to save my own skin, I’d hoped he didn’t see where I scampered off to and hid behind a dumpster. Beside me was a broken piece of cinderblock, so I grabbed it in case he followed me further. ‘Click…tap…click…tap…click…’
The boots stopped. I held my breath, putting my gloved hand over my mouth and nose in order to muffle my shaking breathing. ‘Is this really where I die?’ Silent, hot tears fell down my face and dripped onto the black asphalt. “Come on out, sweetheart, I just wanna see how your insides stick to the pavement!” A nasally, orotund voice called out sing-song-like. I squeezed my eyes shut, and remembered the silver glinting of an object the person had held.
It was a knife. I didn’t register it until now. More tears fell to the ground, and I held my breath longer. ‘Oh god, oh god! I am gonna die before I even find my partner… I won’t even fucking tell him how I actually feel,’ More tears streamed down my face, all of the horrid things a stranger could do to me with a knife. The things he could persuade me. Each sound we made echoed and bounced off of the alley walls, any scream, footstep, taunt, and muffled whimper. It was a deathly tango. ‘Click… tap…click-’
Abruptly, there was a cut-off yelp and then the dull thud of something heavy hitting the ground. The ‘click-tap!’s had halted. All echoes had halted. All sounds altogether had halted and it was once again still. The silence was deafening.
A familiar sound of solace called out. “It’s safe to come out now, you’re alright!”
It was Mark. I got on my feet quickly, dropping the chunk of concrete with a muted clatter that bounced off of the walls of the alleyway. His face had looked dark and brooding as he stared down at the body on the ground. It was lifeless. When I fully saw him, relief washed through me like waves of a stormy ocean. I expected the tears to stop, but at the sight of him, they had kept coming. His eyes had widened once he saw me rushing towards him.
I embraced him, just as he embraced me a couple of days ago. My tears fell on his black leather jacket, probably ruining the old material. “You are safe…” I whispered finally at ease, and his arms wrapped around me once again.
“Why wouldn’t I be? Why the fuck are you out here by yourself? You should know better!” Mark grabbed me by the shoulders to inspect me. This was a different side of him. His voice was tender and irate. His eyes wandered over me with a certain warmth. He was checking to see if I was hurt. “I was going to the department, to see if you had come to work! You haven’t been there in days. You know how worried I’ve been, asshole?” Understandably, I was quite upset too. The man had been MIA for two whole days. Mark was not the type of person to just leave work, he was very reliable, and always told me where he went or if he would take off of work.
Mark’s hands on my shoulders clenched and unclenched, closing his eyes as if he was thinking. He exhaled through his mouth. “Get in the car, now,” He mumbled, releasing me and gesturing vaguely to his black 2004 Lincoln Town Car which was parked on the curb in front of the alley. Opting to bite my tongue, I nodded, following the bothered man back to his car.
On the way to the department, he made a strange turn. “Um… where are we going?” I asked, watching the sign for the exit we needed to take whir by fastly.
“There is a killer on the loose, probably after you and I. Luckily, I know a place we won’t be suspected,” Mark put it simply. I shrunk back into my seat. Trying to not feel the bubbliness of my anxiety in my stomach, I stared out of the front shield and glancing at him from time to time. Mark tapped the steering wheel to the beat of the song, going way faster than the speed limit.
Mark turned up the CD he had in the console, a song from ‘The Doors’ playing, and I recognized it as ‘Light My Fire,’
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a/n: if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters (or my works in general) please comment, or tell me in my askbox!!
