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FIC: Guilty by Association - Charles/Erik, XMFC - (7/13)
Title: Guilty by Association (7/13)
Author: Regann
Pairing: Charles/Erik (XMFC)
Rating: PG-13/R
Word Count: ~4,500 for the chapter (total: 50,000+)
Warnings: discussion of murder, violence and prostitution
Disclaimer: I don't own anything; I just play with them.
Notes: Everything I know about law enforcement and investigative journalism, I learned from watching television. Don't expect any more realism here than you'd find on an episode of CSI or L&O. There is also State of Play influence in this fic as well, although you don't need to have seen it to understand anything in this fic.
Summary: While investigating the homicide of a John Doe who he suspects might've been murdered while working the streets as a prostitute, Detective Erik Lehnsherr finds an unexpected ally in a hooker named Charles who seems as determined as he to solve the case. As they become more deeply involved both with the case and each other, there's just one thing that Charles neglects to mention -- that he's really an investigative journalist, one quickly convinced that what they're dealing with is more than simple murder. cop!Erik, fake-hooker-slash-reporter!Charles, Modern AU.
Previous Parts available at LJ, DW and AO3.
Guilty by Association (Part 7)
Erik wasn't surprised that Charles had left before his first alarm went off, but he did feel like he was missing something when he checked through the house to find it empty of any overnight guests. He remembered Charles's easy familiarity from that first morning and he couldn't help but admit that he'd been hoping for a repeat performance.
But he had, it seemed, played his hand too well in the days before because all that was left of Charles was a handwritten note thanking him for hospitality, left on top of the neatly-folded blanket stacked on his sofa with the pillow.
Still, something about the morning left Erik in a decent mood, one that was mild enough that Darwin felt safe enough to remark on it.
"Good night?" Darwin asked.
"Shouldn't that be my question for you?" Erik returned. "If you received any strange calls last night, they weren't from me."
"I noticed!" Darwin called after him as Erik swept past on his way to Emma's office. She was at her desk like usual, pale blond head bent over her work.
He rapped his knuckles against the door in a short staccato before he stepped in, not bothering to wait for some kind of signal that he should enter. "What's the word on my warrant?"
Emma looked up, glaring over the wire rim of her reading glances. "Good morning, Detective."
"Emma," he said, something about her tone setting him on edge. "You said I'd have my warrant today and it's today. What's the hold-up?"
She sighed and took her off glasses. "Why don't you come in and close the door so we can have an actual conversation?"
"Fuck." He closed the door behind him but declined the seat, leaning against the wall instead.
"I could do without the language, too," she said, sitting back in her chair with another sigh. "You're not getting your warrant."
Erik narrowed his eyes. "Yet, you mean."
She grimaced. "At all."
"What the fu---"
"Lehnsherr!" she barked. "I mean it about the language."
"Then tell me what the hell is going on with my warrant?" he demanded.
"The judge is reluctant to sign off on it," she explained.
"Then find another," he said. "I've seen you do it before."
Emma watched him with her pale, shrewd eyes for a moment before she looked away. "This time, I agree with them."
"What?"
She held up a hand to staunch the inevitable flow of profanity and, out of deference for their long professional friendship, Erik managed to bite back on his curse.
Instead, he threw himself into the chair that Emma had offered earlier. "What's going on here, Emma?"
"I think you're chasing ghosts with this thing," she said. "You don't have any solid evidence to link this escort website to Smith's murder and I really don't want to waste my good will with the judge on it."
"Proof? Emma, what more do you want -- he worked for them. They're an escort service. He was found dead. What else do I need?"
"An actual link?" she said with barely restrained sarcasm. "Just because he might've worked for these people doesn't mean they have anything to do with it."
"Mein Gott," he bit out, proving just how frustrated he'd become with Emma and the conversation. "You can't be serious."
She glared. "I am. In fact, I think maybe you need a break from this case entirely."
Erik knew he had to look stupid with the way he was gaping back at his captain, but it had been years since she'd so honestly shocked him. For all of their disagreements over the years, he and Emma had always found common ground on one point -- doing their job and doing it right. The words that she was saying, ignoring the obvious ties between The Hellfire Club and Smith's death, telling him to take a break -- it was like someone else was speaking through her. "You're crazy."
"You have other cases you could be working on," she reminded him. "Including that first one, the Tabram case. Why don't you focus on it for a while?"
"Because the Smith case is the hot one," he argued. "His identity was key to getting somewhere and now that we know that, we're getting somewhere. You can't pull us back now."
"I don't know if you've noticed but it says "Captain" on my door, so I can do just that," she snapped back. "You're lucky I'm not just taking it off your plate in the first place."
"Go ahead," he taunted. "See how far someone else gets with it."
She continued to glare at him but her hesitancy in the face of his bluff meant that he'd just called hers. "I'm asking you to backburner this for a little while, that's all."
Erik rose from the chair and loomed over her, although it didn't seem faze her in the slightest. "That's not something the Emma Frost I know would ever say, not without a damn good reason."
"Then maybe you should trust me for once," she said. "Let it go, Lehnsherr. I'm asking you."
He didn't even bother to reply to that, shooting one last venomous glare over his shoulder before he stormed out of her office. Erik didn't care how she wanted to frame the little speech she'd just given him, there was something going on. A few days before she'd been jumping down his throat for not moving fast enough, and now she was telling him to slow down, and letting some judge block his search warrant when it should've been an easy sell to anyone. If Smith had been a baker, he could've gotten a warrant to search the premises and get a client list.
"I see the good mood didn't last," Darwin observed as Erik sat back down at his desk. "What did Frost have to say?"
"Someone's decided we don't get our warrant for The Hellfire Club," Erik told him. "Oh and Emma thinks we need to back off the Smith case period."
Darwin's dark eyes widened. "The hell?"
"Exactly," Erik told him. "Something's not right."
"Pods, man," Darwin said, shaking his head. "This place is full of pods."
"Hopefully we'll get something from that laptop if forensics ever gets to it," Erik said, to which Darwin nodded.
Erik tried to focus on his other cases which he did have, and some of the paperwork he had waiting for him, but he couldn't shake his growing uneasiness. He and Emma had butted heads over cases in the past but the more he thought about their conversation the morning, the more it felt less and less like the usual different points of view. Upon reflection, it felt ominous and that feeling left Erik irritated and jittery.
At midday, he turned down Darwin's invitation to head out for a quick bite and, by mid-afternoon, he was like a caged tiger, all glares and growls at everyone who came too close. Luckily Darwin was immune to his bad moods after so long, but he frightened away a new ADA when she came looking for him, as well as a lab tech who'd had the unfortunate luck as to mistake him for another detective.
Even Azazello, who lacked good sense on almost all counts, was wary enough to steer clear of Erik, though he did approach Darwin when Erik was away from his desk. He caught the tail-end of the conversation as he prowled back from Records, but he could hear Azazello saying, "...how rough that is. Especially on the likes of Lehnhserr, he was pretty involved in the case."
"Yeah," Darwin said. "It's always rough when someone up the political food chain is screwing with you over."
"Amen," Azazello said as he looked up and noticed Erik's approach. "You let me know if I can do anything for you guys, okay, Muñoz?"
"Yeah, thanks man," Darwin answered as Azazello hurried past a glaring Erik.
"Anything?" Erik asked his partner instead of commenting like he wanted on a detective like Azazello stopping by to offer sympathy.
Darwin shook his head. "Nothing from the techs."
Erik hadn't even sat down all the way before he was up again. "I'm going to see what's making so long."
"That's probably not a good idea," Darwin cautioned him but dutifully fell into step behind him as he plowed on through the building on his way to the lab. He bypassed McCoy's group and went looking for their computer forensics guys who were supposed to be hacking their way through Elliot's password-protected laptop for him.
"Levene!" Erik barked as he stormed into the lab. The head computer tech glanced up from where he was futzing with what looked like a disassembled computer to Erik's untrained eye.
"Yes?" he asked, blinking up through his glasses.
"What's taking so long with that laptop we got from Elliot Smith's apartment?" Erik asked. "I wasn't waiting for forensics on it, I just needed to get into it."
"Detective Lehnsherr, I have no idea what you're talking about," Levene said. "I don't have any tech from the Smith case -- I'm not even sure what it is."
That uneasy feeling Erik had been nursing all day made the hackles rise up on the back of his neck. "What do you mean?"
"I mean I don't have a laptop from a Smith case," Levene told him.
"I sent it down here after we swept the apartment!"
"Well, it didn't make it here," Levene said, pulling up a screen on his work terminal. "Yeah, see? Nothing in my logs. I'm sorry."
"Darwin," Erik began, voice slow but no less furious. "Find out what happened to that laptop."
He nodded. "On it."
While Darwin went in search of the missing laptop, Erik headed to Evidence to follow up on a terrible hunch. It didn't take him long to confirm it.
"It's missing," he told Darwin a few minutes later as he headed back to his desk.
Darwin had the phone receiver cradled against his shoulder. "I know, I'm trying to find it."
"I don't just mean the laptop," Erik told him.
"Huh?"
Erik grabbed his coat and his keys. "Come on. Let's go."
Darwin didn't ask any questions as he followed Erik out into the crisp, autumn air and Erik was glad for it. He chose a random direction and walked away from the precinct, Darwin at his side as he tried to gather his thoughts. The facts were cold and damning: somehow, within a span of a few days, all of their evidence from Elliot Smith's apartment had gone missing. No one could find the laptop and all the paper files that Erik himself had sorted through and then logged were gone. That, added to Emma's sudden reluctance on the case, led Erik to one grim conclusion.
They finally reached a little coffee shop that Erik visited in the mornings sometimes and he led Darwin inside where they ordered two cups of coffee and commandeered the most private table in the place. It was mid-afternoon, not a high-traffic time for a coffee shop, which made it easier for Erik to feel isolated enough to speak.
"I think there's some kind of cover-up going on," he finally said after a sip of his scalding hot coffee.
Darwin's eyes widened a little but he didn't seem too surprised. "The laptop vanished into thin air," he stated. "What else?"
"All the files with the financials," Erik revealed. "A lot of it was written in shorthand, code, whatever, and I was hoping the laptop might make them make more sense."
"But it's gone."
"Like Houdini."
Darwin rolled his shoulders like he was working a crick on his neck. "You really think it's a cover-up and not just a massive failure on the parts of the idiots we work with?"
Erik shook his head. "I thought of that, but then Emma? With the warrant and the entire thing about backing down? That says someone higher up is putting pressure on her."
Darwin stilled in the action of reaching for his cup. "Do you think she's in on it?"
"I don't know," Erik admitted and it pained him that he couldn't say of course not likd he would've before that morning. "She knows something's up and I'm not sure she's got the best interests of this case in mind."
"So we can't trust our own captain," Darwin said aloud. "That's real great."
"I'm not sure we can trust anybody," Erik told him. "We don't have any idea who's the one who actually took the evidence or who else might be on the same payroll."
"Even better."
They drank their cofee in silence for a few minutes before Darwin had to ask, "How sure are you? This is pretty heavy stuff you're saying."
Erik knew that but it didn't change the facts. "I'm sure enough that I'm going to suggest that neither of us go back in today and that we both lay low to see what that shakes out," he said.
Darwin frowned, eyes troubled. "That sounds pretty damn sure."
Erik nodded. "Yeah. That's the problem."
**
As much as Charles liked to pretend that nothing else mattered when he was working on a story, there were some matters that couldn't be ignored forever, so he spent his morning dealing with the necessities. He paid bills, picked up some groceries, and even revised a fluff magazine piece he'd submitted before the Tabram and Smith cases had stolen all of his attention. He'd come home to a message from Raven that she was going back home after classes that night and Charles rather enjoyed having his place to himself for the first time in a few days. It wasn't that he minded Raven's little visits, but he'd gotten rather used to being on his own over the years and it was always a relief to return to the status quo.
He did not, however, spend his morning thinking about Erik Lehnsherr.
Much.
By the time he'd prepared and consumed a late lunch, Charles had started to feel very satisfied with what he'd accomplished for the day even if none of it was related to his on-going investigation. He was considering a call to the paper to see if Sean could spare a few hours to help him comb more closely through Smith's planner when his landline started ringing.
"Hello?" he said as he answered.
"Charles!" It was Hank and he sounded agitated. "Oh, thank god."
"Hank, what's wrong?"
"Something has happened with the Smith case, but I don't know what," Hank admitted in a rush. "But Detective Lehnsherr stormed through here a little while ago and then stormed out of the building and hasn't been seen since."
The mention of Erik was what caught Charles's attention. "What? Why?"
"I don't know!" Hank said. "I think it has something to do with some evidence? Actually, I was hoping you'd know more."
"Than you?" Charles asked. "Seems unlikely."
"But you have that other source, right?" Hank asked. "I thought maybe he or she knew something."
"My other source is..." Detective Lehnsherr, his mind finished. Charles sighed. "My other source hasn't contacted me today. This is the first I've heard of it."
"Oh." Hank sounded very disappointed.
"Do you know anything about what happened? More than just that it was maybe about evidence?" asked Charles.
"It maybe had something to do with a missing laptop from the Smith case, that's what Levene said when I asked," Hank revealed. "I don't..."
About that time, Charles heard another ring -- this one from his cell phone. He tucked the cordless receiver against his shoulder and hurried into the kitchen to grab his cell phone. When he noticed that the CallerID said it was "Erik" calling, his heart started beating a little faster. "Listen, Hank," Charles began quickly, cutting into his young doctor's rambling. "My other source is on my cell, I need to take this."
"Oh, okay..."
"I'll call you if I figure anything out," Charles hurriedly promised before he disconnected the landline call and answered his cell. "Erik?"
"Charles." He hoped he wasn't imagining the relief he heard in Erik's voice as he said his name. "Where are you?"
"I'm at home," he said. "Why?"
Erik sighed, a long, deep exhalation of breath on the other end of the connection. "Something's come up. With the case," he explained. "I think I'm going to lay low for a while. You should, too. Stay away from my apartment."
Erik was obviously concerned about something, a fact that made Charles frown and clutch his phone a little more tightly. "What something?"
"I don't think I should tell you," Erik said. "And I don't really even know how to explain exactly. It's just -- shit, I don't know."
"Well what are you going to do?" Charles asked, unhappy about the idea of avoiding Erik for "a while." "What do you mean, lay low?"
"I'm not sure if my place is safe," he said quietly. "I'm going to grab some stuff and clear out until I know one way or another."
"Where are you going to go?"
"I don't know, Charles. Some hotel I can pay for in cash, most likely."
The invitation was out before he'd thought better of it. "Come stay here."
He could hear Erik's pause in the static-filled silence on the line. "As in...?"
"My place," Charles said. He realized he didn't even care if it blew his escort cover because the thought of Erik disappearing into the night when he might've been in trouble made something ache in his chest. "No one will come looking for you here."
"That's true..." Erik muttered, but he didn't sound convinced.
"Please, I insist," Charles told him. "I owe you, after all."
Erik was silent for a moment longer before his "Okay, sounds good" let Charles relax a little. "I'm going to take care of some stuff and try to...I won't be there for a few hours. Where do you live?"
Charles rattled off his address. "I'll be here all evening," he promised. "Just come when you can."
"I will," Erik returned. Another pause. "Thanks."
"It's not a problem," he said, and was surprised he meant it. "Just...you'll explain when you get here, yes?"
"Yeah, I will," he said. "Good-bye."
After that, any chance Charles had for quiet self-reflection was shattered because he couldn't ignore the jumbled nerves that had seemed to settle in the pit of his stomach. Erik didn't strike him as the kind to raise an alarm for no reason, so Erik's obvious disquiet left Charles's vivid imagination thinking up a variety of worst-case scenarios. Even more than the story, he was worried about Erik, and he knew he wouldn't get anything else accomplished until he knew what the detective was up against.
It was much later than even Charles had been anticipating when he finally heard his front doorbell ring, and he jumped to answer it, only just remembering to close his laptop and shove it under the sofa before he did so. He opened the door to find Erik standing on his porch, looking as haggard as he'd sounded on the phone, an overnight bag slung over his shoulder, slightly damp from the rain that had started to fall.
"Come in," Charles said, tugging on Erik's arm to bring him inside. "I was starting to get worried."
"Sorry," Erik said, dropping his bag when Charles pointed to the door. "But I decided to ditch my car across town and come by public transportation, just in case."
"You're continuing to worry me," Charles said.
Erik actually managed a weak grin as he ran a hand through his damp hair. "That's not really the plan."
"There are some towels in the bathroom," Charles told him, pointing out the half-bath on the first floor of the brownstone. "Why don't you go dry off? I'll just be in the kitchen, making us some tea."
"Coffee," Erik corrected, even as he nodded. "Thanks."
Charles quickly got the coffee machine brewing while he filled his kettle with water and grabbed two mugs from the cabinet. He could hear the faint sounds of Erik moving around in the bathroom as he gathered his tea-making essentials from various corners of the kitchen where Raven had banished them during her stay.
"Hey, Charles?"
"This way!"
He turned in time to see Erik come into the kitchen, still rubbing a hand towel at his short, damp hair. His coat and jacket were missing, along with his tie, leaving him in nothing but his rumpled shirt and slacks. When Erik saw Charles, he gave him a strange look as he held something out. "This yours?"
When Charles focused on the small, bright item Erik held, he rolled his eyes. "No," he said, snatching the gold tube of very expensive lipstick from Erik's hand. He idly studied the branding and name, deciding that any lipcolor with the word "insolent" in its name was a good choice for his sister. "I believe it's Raven's."
"So, you have a..." Erik made a gesture with his hand, as if prompting Charles to fill in the gaps. "...that lives with you?"
"Well, I have a sister who can't even be trusted to remember her $35 lipsticks, apparently," Charles said with another roll of his eyes. He glanced over and tossed the tube at his fruit basket where it bounced off a banana and into the basket itself.
"Sister? Young, blond, drives a sports car?" Erik asked.
"Yes, how did you...oh, yes!" Charles snapped as he remembered. "You saw her when she came to pick me up from Smith's apartment."
Erik nodded. "I didn't know who she was, but yeah."
"She was staying with me earlier this week but thankfully she's gone on home," Charles said. "If you were worried about that."
"No, I..." Erik shook his head. "That coffee wouldn't be ready, would it?"
Charles could tell that the detective was trying to pull himself together so he quietly went back to his beverage-making and let Erik sink into one of the kitchen chairs and do just that. Erik hung his head, face buried as if whatever weight he carried left him unable to deal with the world. Charles didn't say anything again until he'd set a mug of coffee in front of Erik and had made up his own tea to his precise specifications.
"Any better?"
Erik finally looked up and reached for his coffee. "Yeah, thanks."
"Do you think you're up for telling me what's going on?"
Erik considered him for a moment, obviously thinking, before he began to speak. "I think there's some kind of cover-up happening with the Smith case."
Charles was actually surprised. "What? Why?"
He shook his head. "I don't know why, but it hit today," he explained. "First, I got turned down for a warrant and then my captain told me to back off the case. If that wasn't strange enough, all of our evidence from Smith's apartment disappeared from evidence. There's not even any logs on the laptop to prove it made it to the station in the first place."
"That's a...weighty accusation," Charles finally managed to say.
Erik snorted. "You don't think I know it? Emma – Captain Frost -- I consider her a friend, Charles. But I'm almost convinced she's in this as deep as anyone else."
"But why?" Charles insisted. "Did you uncover something you didn't tell me about?"
"Nothing after the stuff with Hellfire," he told him. "So I have no idea of the why. I just know that I can't -- and don't -- trust anyone in the force at the moment. I have no idea who did this or why or how far it goes up...that's why I cleared out, told Darwin to do the same. I stopped by my apartment and grabbed what files and copies I had, and then..."
"...dumped your car and came here," Charles finished. "I can see why you're worried, Erik. I just wish we knew why."
"The Hellfire Club seems to be what triggered it," Erik said, taking another gulp of his coffee. "There must've been someone who didn't want me to know something I could find out from them."
"Or maybe from Elliot's files," Charles added. "A high-profile client, perhaps? We've seen what these scandals do to reputations."
"Tampering with police evidence is more than just paying off a few reporters to bury a story," Erik argued. "If it's a client, they've done more than just hire an escort."
"Maybe murdered that escort for something he saw or knew?" Charles said, shuddering a little at the thought. "What else could be worth the cover-up?"
"That's what I'm wondering," Erik said. "But whoever it is is obviously looking to play hardball."
"Hence your concern about yourself and your partner."
Erik nodded. "I'm not even sure what the hell to do at this point."
Charles could tell from the tension in Erik's body to the way he continually clenched and unclenched his hands that Erik was still reeling from the discoveries he'd made that day. Charles tried to imagine what it would be like to learn that someone might've betrayed him in a similar manner, how it would feel if Moira or Sean did something to break one of the rules that they held dear as reporters. He'd never experienced it, but he had an idea that it wasn't pleasant at all.
Making a decision, he reached over and gently unfurled one of Erik's fists before covering it with his hand in a way he hoped was comforting. "I think what you need to do tonight is stop worrying about it," Charles advised. "You're safe, you have your copies...and you're probably not going to decide anything right now, not the way your mind is racing."
"Yeah?"
"Yes," Charles nodded, watching how Erik slowly let himself return the caress, his thumb moving back-and-forth against edge of Charles's wrist. "I suggest you let me help you relax and we worry about it again in the morning."
And he didn't even mean it as the come-on it sounded like, for once, Charles realized with a terrible pang. His feelings for Erik were starting to tumble out of their neatly defined boxes in Charles's head and that, he'd learned the hard way, was a disaster waiting to happen. But, for the life of him, he couldn't make himself pull away, no matter how much sense it might've made.
Then again, Charles had never been someone accused of having much sense, not when it came to his feelings.
With a smile that was probably too terribly fond, Charles tugged Erik up out of his chair and out of the kitchen, their mugs left forgotten on the table behind them.
**
End of Part 7
Author: Regann
Pairing: Charles/Erik (XMFC)
Rating: PG-13/R
Word Count: ~4,500 for the chapter (total: 50,000+)
Warnings: discussion of murder, violence and prostitution
Disclaimer: I don't own anything; I just play with them.
Notes: Everything I know about law enforcement and investigative journalism, I learned from watching television. Don't expect any more realism here than you'd find on an episode of CSI or L&O. There is also State of Play influence in this fic as well, although you don't need to have seen it to understand anything in this fic.
Summary: While investigating the homicide of a John Doe who he suspects might've been murdered while working the streets as a prostitute, Detective Erik Lehnsherr finds an unexpected ally in a hooker named Charles who seems as determined as he to solve the case. As they become more deeply involved both with the case and each other, there's just one thing that Charles neglects to mention -- that he's really an investigative journalist, one quickly convinced that what they're dealing with is more than simple murder. cop!Erik, fake-hooker-slash-reporter!Charles, Modern AU.
Previous Parts available at LJ, DW and AO3.
Guilty by Association (Part 7)
Erik wasn't surprised that Charles had left before his first alarm went off, but he did feel like he was missing something when he checked through the house to find it empty of any overnight guests. He remembered Charles's easy familiarity from that first morning and he couldn't help but admit that he'd been hoping for a repeat performance.
But he had, it seemed, played his hand too well in the days before because all that was left of Charles was a handwritten note thanking him for hospitality, left on top of the neatly-folded blanket stacked on his sofa with the pillow.
Still, something about the morning left Erik in a decent mood, one that was mild enough that Darwin felt safe enough to remark on it.
"Good night?" Darwin asked.
"Shouldn't that be my question for you?" Erik returned. "If you received any strange calls last night, they weren't from me."
"I noticed!" Darwin called after him as Erik swept past on his way to Emma's office. She was at her desk like usual, pale blond head bent over her work.
He rapped his knuckles against the door in a short staccato before he stepped in, not bothering to wait for some kind of signal that he should enter. "What's the word on my warrant?"
Emma looked up, glaring over the wire rim of her reading glances. "Good morning, Detective."
"Emma," he said, something about her tone setting him on edge. "You said I'd have my warrant today and it's today. What's the hold-up?"
She sighed and took her off glasses. "Why don't you come in and close the door so we can have an actual conversation?"
"Fuck." He closed the door behind him but declined the seat, leaning against the wall instead.
"I could do without the language, too," she said, sitting back in her chair with another sigh. "You're not getting your warrant."
Erik narrowed his eyes. "Yet, you mean."
She grimaced. "At all."
"What the fu---"
"Lehnsherr!" she barked. "I mean it about the language."
"Then tell me what the hell is going on with my warrant?" he demanded.
"The judge is reluctant to sign off on it," she explained.
"Then find another," he said. "I've seen you do it before."
Emma watched him with her pale, shrewd eyes for a moment before she looked away. "This time, I agree with them."
"What?"
She held up a hand to staunch the inevitable flow of profanity and, out of deference for their long professional friendship, Erik managed to bite back on his curse.
Instead, he threw himself into the chair that Emma had offered earlier. "What's going on here, Emma?"
"I think you're chasing ghosts with this thing," she said. "You don't have any solid evidence to link this escort website to Smith's murder and I really don't want to waste my good will with the judge on it."
"Proof? Emma, what more do you want -- he worked for them. They're an escort service. He was found dead. What else do I need?"
"An actual link?" she said with barely restrained sarcasm. "Just because he might've worked for these people doesn't mean they have anything to do with it."
"Mein Gott," he bit out, proving just how frustrated he'd become with Emma and the conversation. "You can't be serious."
She glared. "I am. In fact, I think maybe you need a break from this case entirely."
Erik knew he had to look stupid with the way he was gaping back at his captain, but it had been years since she'd so honestly shocked him. For all of their disagreements over the years, he and Emma had always found common ground on one point -- doing their job and doing it right. The words that she was saying, ignoring the obvious ties between The Hellfire Club and Smith's death, telling him to take a break -- it was like someone else was speaking through her. "You're crazy."
"You have other cases you could be working on," she reminded him. "Including that first one, the Tabram case. Why don't you focus on it for a while?"
"Because the Smith case is the hot one," he argued. "His identity was key to getting somewhere and now that we know that, we're getting somewhere. You can't pull us back now."
"I don't know if you've noticed but it says "Captain" on my door, so I can do just that," she snapped back. "You're lucky I'm not just taking it off your plate in the first place."
"Go ahead," he taunted. "See how far someone else gets with it."
She continued to glare at him but her hesitancy in the face of his bluff meant that he'd just called hers. "I'm asking you to backburner this for a little while, that's all."
Erik rose from the chair and loomed over her, although it didn't seem faze her in the slightest. "That's not something the Emma Frost I know would ever say, not without a damn good reason."
"Then maybe you should trust me for once," she said. "Let it go, Lehnsherr. I'm asking you."
He didn't even bother to reply to that, shooting one last venomous glare over his shoulder before he stormed out of her office. Erik didn't care how she wanted to frame the little speech she'd just given him, there was something going on. A few days before she'd been jumping down his throat for not moving fast enough, and now she was telling him to slow down, and letting some judge block his search warrant when it should've been an easy sell to anyone. If Smith had been a baker, he could've gotten a warrant to search the premises and get a client list.
"I see the good mood didn't last," Darwin observed as Erik sat back down at his desk. "What did Frost have to say?"
"Someone's decided we don't get our warrant for The Hellfire Club," Erik told him. "Oh and Emma thinks we need to back off the Smith case period."
Darwin's dark eyes widened. "The hell?"
"Exactly," Erik told him. "Something's not right."
"Pods, man," Darwin said, shaking his head. "This place is full of pods."
"Hopefully we'll get something from that laptop if forensics ever gets to it," Erik said, to which Darwin nodded.
Erik tried to focus on his other cases which he did have, and some of the paperwork he had waiting for him, but he couldn't shake his growing uneasiness. He and Emma had butted heads over cases in the past but the more he thought about their conversation the morning, the more it felt less and less like the usual different points of view. Upon reflection, it felt ominous and that feeling left Erik irritated and jittery.
At midday, he turned down Darwin's invitation to head out for a quick bite and, by mid-afternoon, he was like a caged tiger, all glares and growls at everyone who came too close. Luckily Darwin was immune to his bad moods after so long, but he frightened away a new ADA when she came looking for him, as well as a lab tech who'd had the unfortunate luck as to mistake him for another detective.
Even Azazello, who lacked good sense on almost all counts, was wary enough to steer clear of Erik, though he did approach Darwin when Erik was away from his desk. He caught the tail-end of the conversation as he prowled back from Records, but he could hear Azazello saying, "...how rough that is. Especially on the likes of Lehnhserr, he was pretty involved in the case."
"Yeah," Darwin said. "It's always rough when someone up the political food chain is screwing with you over."
"Amen," Azazello said as he looked up and noticed Erik's approach. "You let me know if I can do anything for you guys, okay, Muñoz?"
"Yeah, thanks man," Darwin answered as Azazello hurried past a glaring Erik.
"Anything?" Erik asked his partner instead of commenting like he wanted on a detective like Azazello stopping by to offer sympathy.
Darwin shook his head. "Nothing from the techs."
Erik hadn't even sat down all the way before he was up again. "I'm going to see what's making so long."
"That's probably not a good idea," Darwin cautioned him but dutifully fell into step behind him as he plowed on through the building on his way to the lab. He bypassed McCoy's group and went looking for their computer forensics guys who were supposed to be hacking their way through Elliot's password-protected laptop for him.
"Levene!" Erik barked as he stormed into the lab. The head computer tech glanced up from where he was futzing with what looked like a disassembled computer to Erik's untrained eye.
"Yes?" he asked, blinking up through his glasses.
"What's taking so long with that laptop we got from Elliot Smith's apartment?" Erik asked. "I wasn't waiting for forensics on it, I just needed to get into it."
"Detective Lehnsherr, I have no idea what you're talking about," Levene said. "I don't have any tech from the Smith case -- I'm not even sure what it is."
That uneasy feeling Erik had been nursing all day made the hackles rise up on the back of his neck. "What do you mean?"
"I mean I don't have a laptop from a Smith case," Levene told him.
"I sent it down here after we swept the apartment!"
"Well, it didn't make it here," Levene said, pulling up a screen on his work terminal. "Yeah, see? Nothing in my logs. I'm sorry."
"Darwin," Erik began, voice slow but no less furious. "Find out what happened to that laptop."
He nodded. "On it."
While Darwin went in search of the missing laptop, Erik headed to Evidence to follow up on a terrible hunch. It didn't take him long to confirm it.
"It's missing," he told Darwin a few minutes later as he headed back to his desk.
Darwin had the phone receiver cradled against his shoulder. "I know, I'm trying to find it."
"I don't just mean the laptop," Erik told him.
"Huh?"
Erik grabbed his coat and his keys. "Come on. Let's go."
Darwin didn't ask any questions as he followed Erik out into the crisp, autumn air and Erik was glad for it. He chose a random direction and walked away from the precinct, Darwin at his side as he tried to gather his thoughts. The facts were cold and damning: somehow, within a span of a few days, all of their evidence from Elliot Smith's apartment had gone missing. No one could find the laptop and all the paper files that Erik himself had sorted through and then logged were gone. That, added to Emma's sudden reluctance on the case, led Erik to one grim conclusion.
They finally reached a little coffee shop that Erik visited in the mornings sometimes and he led Darwin inside where they ordered two cups of coffee and commandeered the most private table in the place. It was mid-afternoon, not a high-traffic time for a coffee shop, which made it easier for Erik to feel isolated enough to speak.
"I think there's some kind of cover-up going on," he finally said after a sip of his scalding hot coffee.
Darwin's eyes widened a little but he didn't seem too surprised. "The laptop vanished into thin air," he stated. "What else?"
"All the files with the financials," Erik revealed. "A lot of it was written in shorthand, code, whatever, and I was hoping the laptop might make them make more sense."
"But it's gone."
"Like Houdini."
Darwin rolled his shoulders like he was working a crick on his neck. "You really think it's a cover-up and not just a massive failure on the parts of the idiots we work with?"
Erik shook his head. "I thought of that, but then Emma? With the warrant and the entire thing about backing down? That says someone higher up is putting pressure on her."
Darwin stilled in the action of reaching for his cup. "Do you think she's in on it?"
"I don't know," Erik admitted and it pained him that he couldn't say of course not likd he would've before that morning. "She knows something's up and I'm not sure she's got the best interests of this case in mind."
"So we can't trust our own captain," Darwin said aloud. "That's real great."
"I'm not sure we can trust anybody," Erik told him. "We don't have any idea who's the one who actually took the evidence or who else might be on the same payroll."
"Even better."
They drank their cofee in silence for a few minutes before Darwin had to ask, "How sure are you? This is pretty heavy stuff you're saying."
Erik knew that but it didn't change the facts. "I'm sure enough that I'm going to suggest that neither of us go back in today and that we both lay low to see what that shakes out," he said.
Darwin frowned, eyes troubled. "That sounds pretty damn sure."
Erik nodded. "Yeah. That's the problem."
**
As much as Charles liked to pretend that nothing else mattered when he was working on a story, there were some matters that couldn't be ignored forever, so he spent his morning dealing with the necessities. He paid bills, picked up some groceries, and even revised a fluff magazine piece he'd submitted before the Tabram and Smith cases had stolen all of his attention. He'd come home to a message from Raven that she was going back home after classes that night and Charles rather enjoyed having his place to himself for the first time in a few days. It wasn't that he minded Raven's little visits, but he'd gotten rather used to being on his own over the years and it was always a relief to return to the status quo.
He did not, however, spend his morning thinking about Erik Lehnsherr.
Much.
By the time he'd prepared and consumed a late lunch, Charles had started to feel very satisfied with what he'd accomplished for the day even if none of it was related to his on-going investigation. He was considering a call to the paper to see if Sean could spare a few hours to help him comb more closely through Smith's planner when his landline started ringing.
"Hello?" he said as he answered.
"Charles!" It was Hank and he sounded agitated. "Oh, thank god."
"Hank, what's wrong?"
"Something has happened with the Smith case, but I don't know what," Hank admitted in a rush. "But Detective Lehnsherr stormed through here a little while ago and then stormed out of the building and hasn't been seen since."
The mention of Erik was what caught Charles's attention. "What? Why?"
"I don't know!" Hank said. "I think it has something to do with some evidence? Actually, I was hoping you'd know more."
"Than you?" Charles asked. "Seems unlikely."
"But you have that other source, right?" Hank asked. "I thought maybe he or she knew something."
"My other source is..." Detective Lehnsherr, his mind finished. Charles sighed. "My other source hasn't contacted me today. This is the first I've heard of it."
"Oh." Hank sounded very disappointed.
"Do you know anything about what happened? More than just that it was maybe about evidence?" asked Charles.
"It maybe had something to do with a missing laptop from the Smith case, that's what Levene said when I asked," Hank revealed. "I don't..."
About that time, Charles heard another ring -- this one from his cell phone. He tucked the cordless receiver against his shoulder and hurried into the kitchen to grab his cell phone. When he noticed that the CallerID said it was "Erik" calling, his heart started beating a little faster. "Listen, Hank," Charles began quickly, cutting into his young doctor's rambling. "My other source is on my cell, I need to take this."
"Oh, okay..."
"I'll call you if I figure anything out," Charles hurriedly promised before he disconnected the landline call and answered his cell. "Erik?"
"Charles." He hoped he wasn't imagining the relief he heard in Erik's voice as he said his name. "Where are you?"
"I'm at home," he said. "Why?"
Erik sighed, a long, deep exhalation of breath on the other end of the connection. "Something's come up. With the case," he explained. "I think I'm going to lay low for a while. You should, too. Stay away from my apartment."
Erik was obviously concerned about something, a fact that made Charles frown and clutch his phone a little more tightly. "What something?"
"I don't think I should tell you," Erik said. "And I don't really even know how to explain exactly. It's just -- shit, I don't know."
"Well what are you going to do?" Charles asked, unhappy about the idea of avoiding Erik for "a while." "What do you mean, lay low?"
"I'm not sure if my place is safe," he said quietly. "I'm going to grab some stuff and clear out until I know one way or another."
"Where are you going to go?"
"I don't know, Charles. Some hotel I can pay for in cash, most likely."
The invitation was out before he'd thought better of it. "Come stay here."
He could hear Erik's pause in the static-filled silence on the line. "As in...?"
"My place," Charles said. He realized he didn't even care if it blew his escort cover because the thought of Erik disappearing into the night when he might've been in trouble made something ache in his chest. "No one will come looking for you here."
"That's true..." Erik muttered, but he didn't sound convinced.
"Please, I insist," Charles told him. "I owe you, after all."
Erik was silent for a moment longer before his "Okay, sounds good" let Charles relax a little. "I'm going to take care of some stuff and try to...I won't be there for a few hours. Where do you live?"
Charles rattled off his address. "I'll be here all evening," he promised. "Just come when you can."
"I will," Erik returned. Another pause. "Thanks."
"It's not a problem," he said, and was surprised he meant it. "Just...you'll explain when you get here, yes?"
"Yeah, I will," he said. "Good-bye."
After that, any chance Charles had for quiet self-reflection was shattered because he couldn't ignore the jumbled nerves that had seemed to settle in the pit of his stomach. Erik didn't strike him as the kind to raise an alarm for no reason, so Erik's obvious disquiet left Charles's vivid imagination thinking up a variety of worst-case scenarios. Even more than the story, he was worried about Erik, and he knew he wouldn't get anything else accomplished until he knew what the detective was up against.
It was much later than even Charles had been anticipating when he finally heard his front doorbell ring, and he jumped to answer it, only just remembering to close his laptop and shove it under the sofa before he did so. He opened the door to find Erik standing on his porch, looking as haggard as he'd sounded on the phone, an overnight bag slung over his shoulder, slightly damp from the rain that had started to fall.
"Come in," Charles said, tugging on Erik's arm to bring him inside. "I was starting to get worried."
"Sorry," Erik said, dropping his bag when Charles pointed to the door. "But I decided to ditch my car across town and come by public transportation, just in case."
"You're continuing to worry me," Charles said.
Erik actually managed a weak grin as he ran a hand through his damp hair. "That's not really the plan."
"There are some towels in the bathroom," Charles told him, pointing out the half-bath on the first floor of the brownstone. "Why don't you go dry off? I'll just be in the kitchen, making us some tea."
"Coffee," Erik corrected, even as he nodded. "Thanks."
Charles quickly got the coffee machine brewing while he filled his kettle with water and grabbed two mugs from the cabinet. He could hear the faint sounds of Erik moving around in the bathroom as he gathered his tea-making essentials from various corners of the kitchen where Raven had banished them during her stay.
"Hey, Charles?"
"This way!"
He turned in time to see Erik come into the kitchen, still rubbing a hand towel at his short, damp hair. His coat and jacket were missing, along with his tie, leaving him in nothing but his rumpled shirt and slacks. When Erik saw Charles, he gave him a strange look as he held something out. "This yours?"
When Charles focused on the small, bright item Erik held, he rolled his eyes. "No," he said, snatching the gold tube of very expensive lipstick from Erik's hand. He idly studied the branding and name, deciding that any lipcolor with the word "insolent" in its name was a good choice for his sister. "I believe it's Raven's."
"So, you have a..." Erik made a gesture with his hand, as if prompting Charles to fill in the gaps. "...that lives with you?"
"Well, I have a sister who can't even be trusted to remember her $35 lipsticks, apparently," Charles said with another roll of his eyes. He glanced over and tossed the tube at his fruit basket where it bounced off a banana and into the basket itself.
"Sister? Young, blond, drives a sports car?" Erik asked.
"Yes, how did you...oh, yes!" Charles snapped as he remembered. "You saw her when she came to pick me up from Smith's apartment."
Erik nodded. "I didn't know who she was, but yeah."
"She was staying with me earlier this week but thankfully she's gone on home," Charles said. "If you were worried about that."
"No, I..." Erik shook his head. "That coffee wouldn't be ready, would it?"
Charles could tell that the detective was trying to pull himself together so he quietly went back to his beverage-making and let Erik sink into one of the kitchen chairs and do just that. Erik hung his head, face buried as if whatever weight he carried left him unable to deal with the world. Charles didn't say anything again until he'd set a mug of coffee in front of Erik and had made up his own tea to his precise specifications.
"Any better?"
Erik finally looked up and reached for his coffee. "Yeah, thanks."
"Do you think you're up for telling me what's going on?"
Erik considered him for a moment, obviously thinking, before he began to speak. "I think there's some kind of cover-up happening with the Smith case."
Charles was actually surprised. "What? Why?"
He shook his head. "I don't know why, but it hit today," he explained. "First, I got turned down for a warrant and then my captain told me to back off the case. If that wasn't strange enough, all of our evidence from Smith's apartment disappeared from evidence. There's not even any logs on the laptop to prove it made it to the station in the first place."
"That's a...weighty accusation," Charles finally managed to say.
Erik snorted. "You don't think I know it? Emma – Captain Frost -- I consider her a friend, Charles. But I'm almost convinced she's in this as deep as anyone else."
"But why?" Charles insisted. "Did you uncover something you didn't tell me about?"
"Nothing after the stuff with Hellfire," he told him. "So I have no idea of the why. I just know that I can't -- and don't -- trust anyone in the force at the moment. I have no idea who did this or why or how far it goes up...that's why I cleared out, told Darwin to do the same. I stopped by my apartment and grabbed what files and copies I had, and then..."
"...dumped your car and came here," Charles finished. "I can see why you're worried, Erik. I just wish we knew why."
"The Hellfire Club seems to be what triggered it," Erik said, taking another gulp of his coffee. "There must've been someone who didn't want me to know something I could find out from them."
"Or maybe from Elliot's files," Charles added. "A high-profile client, perhaps? We've seen what these scandals do to reputations."
"Tampering with police evidence is more than just paying off a few reporters to bury a story," Erik argued. "If it's a client, they've done more than just hire an escort."
"Maybe murdered that escort for something he saw or knew?" Charles said, shuddering a little at the thought. "What else could be worth the cover-up?"
"That's what I'm wondering," Erik said. "But whoever it is is obviously looking to play hardball."
"Hence your concern about yourself and your partner."
Erik nodded. "I'm not even sure what the hell to do at this point."
Charles could tell from the tension in Erik's body to the way he continually clenched and unclenched his hands that Erik was still reeling from the discoveries he'd made that day. Charles tried to imagine what it would be like to learn that someone might've betrayed him in a similar manner, how it would feel if Moira or Sean did something to break one of the rules that they held dear as reporters. He'd never experienced it, but he had an idea that it wasn't pleasant at all.
Making a decision, he reached over and gently unfurled one of Erik's fists before covering it with his hand in a way he hoped was comforting. "I think what you need to do tonight is stop worrying about it," Charles advised. "You're safe, you have your copies...and you're probably not going to decide anything right now, not the way your mind is racing."
"Yeah?"
"Yes," Charles nodded, watching how Erik slowly let himself return the caress, his thumb moving back-and-forth against edge of Charles's wrist. "I suggest you let me help you relax and we worry about it again in the morning."
And he didn't even mean it as the come-on it sounded like, for once, Charles realized with a terrible pang. His feelings for Erik were starting to tumble out of their neatly defined boxes in Charles's head and that, he'd learned the hard way, was a disaster waiting to happen. But, for the life of him, he couldn't make himself pull away, no matter how much sense it might've made.
Then again, Charles had never been someone accused of having much sense, not when it came to his feelings.
With a smile that was probably too terribly fond, Charles tugged Erik up out of his chair and out of the kitchen, their mugs left forgotten on the table behind them.
**
End of Part 7