FIC: The Security Guard and the Kabuki Player (FAKE, Dee/Ryo) R
Fandom/Pairing: FAKE, Dee/Ryo
Rating: R
Note: This takes place between the 6th and 7th manga.
Written for: krazysidhe for yuletide 2008
Wordcount: 5,000ish
The Security Guard and the Kabuki Player
"Who're they?" Dee looked up from the report he'd been not-working on for three hours and stabbed his finger in the air to where Berkley Rose led a couple of plainclothes to his borrowed office. He tipped back in his chair to get a better look.
"So rude," Ryo muttered. Everyone ignored him.
"Janet said they're from Major Case," Drake offered.
"Major Case?" The front two legs of Dee's chair came crashing down. "What would Major Case be doing in a hole like this?"
"They're probably here to offer you a promotion, Dee-sama!" JJ gushed.
"I don't think so," Drake, Ted and Ryo said together.
Dee glared, put out for all of two seconds. "Maybe we can get some intel outta the chief - it's not like he has anything better to do anyway."
"Ha! Like he's going to know anything," Ted said. "That badger's so in the dark he's practically a mushroom."
"True, true. The last time Chief had a clue, this precinct had a stable." Dee laughed easily, not noticing at first that JJ and Drake weren't joining in and Ryo was doing his best to pretend he was somewhere else.
When he did notice, he sighed. "He's right behind me, isn't he."
"Of course I am, asshole! What are we paying you mutts for? Maclean, Laytner - you jerks get your asses to Rose's office. The rest of you idiots GET BACK TO WORK!"
Dee and Ryo went to Rose's office - not hurrying, of course, although it would be rude to keep their visitors waiting.
Rose stood behind his desk, seemingly locked into some kind of staring contest with one of the new detectives. The man Berkley was so captivated by was very tall, with dark hair and dark eyes. The other detective - his partner, Dee assumed - was a stunning blond woman who was frowning as though unimpressed by what Carol referred to as a display of testosterone.
"You asked for us?" Ryo cut into the silence, ending the spell.
"Yes, Detectives Laytner, Maclean, meet the very accomplished Detective Goren-" he gestured to the tall man, "-and his partner, Detective Eames." Almost as though she was an afterthought, Rose gestured to the blond woman.
"Welcome to the temporary home of the 27th," Dee said, directing his most charming grin at Eames until Ryo shot him a look that Dee hoped was a jealous one.
"These are our finest detectives," Rose said. "Detective Maclean in particular has some experience in the art and antiquities world. I'm sure he will be able to help you track down the thief." He smiled at Ryo in a manner that, in Dee's opinion, was barely a step removed from sexual harassment.
Dee squashed down the impulse to punch his superior officer and then looked quickly to Ryo, worried that Rose's casual reference to Ryo's murdered parents' import business would be upsetting. But he met Dee's eye, inclined his head, and smiled a little in that way he had, the one that said that everything was going to be okay.
He looked so fucking hot when he did that Dee's hands itched to grab him, throw him down, and have his way with him right on Rose's desk.
"The Metropolitan Museum of Art is hosting a very special Asian exhibit this month." Goren cut into Dee's daydream. "A Japanese collector is lending the Met some of the finest pieces of shunga artwork, many of them from the Edo period. It is a great honor to our city, but we've received a tip that someone is planning to steal some of the pieces."
"Why ask us for help? The Met isn't even close to our precinct." Ryo cut right to the heart of the issue; the 27th was a small, unimpressive precinct with a fairly poor arrest record. Something this high-profile was worlds away from the type of cases that usually crossed their desks.
Eames looked at them, opened her mouth slightly as though to speak, but hesitated.
"It's a cop, isn't it?" Dee guessed. It was the only answer that made sense. Dee couldn't imagine one of their co-workers at the 27th harboring a secret fetish for ancient Japanese art, and there were much easier ways for a dirty cop in the slums who just wanted to make a quick buck.
"We think so." Eames nodded. "We are working with Internal Affairs on that angle. What we need are people on the inside, undercover. The two of you will pose as museum employees and listen to the conversations people have as they walk through the exhibits. Report anything that sounds suspicious, or anyone who seems like they might be an off-duty cop."
"Here is the information we've gathered so far." Goren handed Ryo the case file, which was disappointingly slim.
"To explain your absence, the official story for the next few weeks will be that you are being suspended for inappropriate behavior," Rose said with only the faintest edge of a smirk. He looked at Ryo as he continued, "You will report directly to me with your findings."
Casually, Dee stepped between Rose and Ryo, breaking Rose's line of sight.
"Well, it looks like I don't have to warn you to watch each other's backs," Goren said with a smile. "Which is good, because if this is a dirty cop-"
"Things could get ugly." Ryo nodded.
*
That night, they met at Ryo's apartment to read the case file and discuss their strategy.
Bikki, evil beast from Hell, sworn enemy of all things good and manly and Ryo-wanting, was sitting in front of the television playing a video game. Periodically, he paused and turned to stick his bratty little nose in Dee and Ryo's business, making sure Dee wasn't "taking advantage" - although Bikki was kidding himself if he still thought Ryo was the type that was easily taken advantage of.
Ryo was quiet and seemed soft, but after years and more than a little shared danger, Dee had yet to find an end to Ryo's strength.
"The main suspect is Officer Ann Mosely. Here is her picture." Ryo held up the same horrible ID picture all cops were required to take. Mosely, a thirty-something woman with brown hair, stared out at them with sad eyes.
"They have security footage of Officer Mosely in the shunga exhibit area several times while it was being prepped. The exhibit wasn't open to the public yet; she shouldn't have been there at all."
"There has to be more. I mean, so what? She wanted an early look at the pictures," Dee said. "Though I can't imagine what's so exciting about them."
Ryo stared at him as though he'd just said something completely ridiculous.
"What?"
"Nothing."
The corner of Ryo's mouth twitched in an adorable little half-smile that looked completely, totally, and ravishingly edible. He barely heard Ryo continue: "The suspect has only been on the force for four years, and - what?" He halted in mid-sentence.
"What?"
"You're not even listening," Ryo sighed.
"I was thinking."
"HA!" Bikki yelled from across the room. "That horrible pervert's planning to do something! Punch him, Ryo!"
"You miserable little worm!" Dee shot back. "You are going down!"
It was almost an hour before the case was mentioned again.
*
They were greeted a full two hours before the Museum opened by the curator herself.
"Good morning! You can call me Isabela. It's always lovely to have the police right here watching over us and our treasures. But first things first - I do have just a little bit of paperwork one of you will need to fill out in the office over there."
Isabela Rodriguez was a tiny woman old enough to be Dee's grandmother who spoke with a slight Hispanic accent, at times almost too rapidly to follow. She gestured at a small door down the hallway. "Marcia will help get you ready to start working when it's all done."
Dee was suddenly and overwhelmingly fascinated with the nearest painting. The more he studied it, the more it looked as though Dr. Seuss had gotten violently drunk with Papa Smurf and they had taken turns vomiting cubist nightmares in primary colors all over the poor, innocent canvas. He was captivated, his eyes were glued to it, he found he simply couldn't look away - until Ryo sighed and left to tackle the paperwork.
"Your turn now," Isabela looked him up and down, frowning as though she knew exactly what he'd just pulled. She reminded Dee just a little bit of Penguin, the kind nun who'd been like a mother to him. "I have just the job for you."
She pulled a bundle of clothing from a cabinet and shoved it into Dee's arms. He glanced down and took one look at the ridiculously large, glittery plastic badge, and his stomach sank to his feet.
*
"Does it fit?" Isabela's no-nonsense voice stabbed like a dagger through the thick men's room door, piercing Dee's sense of professional pride and twisting painfully.
Dee looked in the mirror at his new uniform, bravely forcing back the tears that threatened to spill. At least Ryo was still filling out paperwork and was nowhere nearby to see him like this.
"There has to be something else! Please? I'll mop the floors. I'll clean the toilets. I'll do anything!"
It was horrible. It was terrible. It couldn't possibly get any worse.
The uniform was just sad. Nothing about it was like the regular police officer's uniform that it made a pathetic attempt to emulate. The scratchy, cheap polyester was the wrong shade of blue for a cop. And if the word SECURITY printed in bright yellow letters over the pocket didn't advertise his civilian status clearly enough, the too-large, sparkly silver-and-gold badge did.
"Don't be such a child. It can't be that bad," Ryo said, his voice only slightly muffled through the thick door.
It had gotten worse.
"Forget it! Tell the chief I quit."
"Dee-" The men's room door swung open. Too late, Dee wished he'd thought to lock it.
"Dee... You're..." Kind, beautiful Ryo covered his mouth as though in horror. Unfortunately, Dee knew him well enough to see the laughter in his eyes.
"Don't you EVER tell the guys about this."
A little bit of laughter escaped from behind Ryo's hand. "A rent-a-cop? You're going to be a rent-a-cop?"
"Security professional. And shut up."
"Okay. I'm sorry." Ryo managed to get himself under control - in much less time than it would've taken Dee had their positions been reversed.
"That's okay," Dee agreed, stalling until a nice, big hole in the ground opened up. Which, he figured, if there were any justice or fairness in the world, would happen any second.
"We should concentrate on the case, not on our clothes. Undercover work isn't always glamorous, but it is part of the job." With a quick side glance to the door, Ryo leaned up and gave Dee the slightest, softest whisper of a kiss on his lips.
"Exactly," Dee said, dazed. "Part of the job." He reached out to grab Ryo, who sidestepped and evaded him.
"Ready to go back?" Ryo said as though nothing had happened.
Dee nodded. Later, he had every intention of catching Ryo and going into great and pleasurable detail about just why it was such a bad idea for Ryo to kiss him in empty men's rooms, but for now they had a job to do.
He opened the door and started to walk out. At the last moment, Ryo stopped him with a touch to the shoulder and said, "Oh, and Dee?"
"Yeah?"
"Nice badge."
*
All Dee knew about shunga artwork was that it, like Ryo, was Japanese. He certainly wasn't prepared for the sight that greeted him when he walked into the exhibit hall.
Apparently "shunga" was Japanese for "pictures of lots of people with very large genitals having lots of sex." The exhibit was one of the most wonderful things he'd ever seen.
"Close your mouth, you're drooling," Ryo muttered. "Pervert."
"Me? What about the guys who did these paintings? Or the people in them! Is there anything they didn't do? Men, women, animals... Look! That woman over there is getting it on with a squid!" Dee gaped. "Kinky!"
*
Guarding artwork was boring. Even ancient, pornographic artwork. Even the one with all the monks and the giant penises and the bell, which was admittedly inspirational.
Dee stood in the corner of a large hallway, watching. Every few hours Ryo, whose undercover role was that of a tour guide, would lead a group through the hallway. He'd stop before several of the pictures, give interesting facts about the artist and the context of the work, and then proceed to describe each scene in just enough detail to get Dee really, really hard, before leaving for the next room.
In between tours, Dee spent most of the rest of the time imagining Ryo dressed up like an unusually muscular kabuki player and making frequent trips to the bathroom.
It wasn't until the third day that they finally got a break on the case. Officer Mosely came in shortly before closing time, after the last of the tours was finished for the day. She spent a good half-hour in front of a particularly intriguing piece featuring a woman and two squids called "The Dream of the Fisherman's Wife."
Dee made no effort to hide the fact that he was staring at her; rather, he made sure to be as obvious about it as possible. He checked her out as though she were the hottest thing he'd ever seen - although she fell far short of his usual standards - silently praying that Ryo wouldn't walk in.
She noticed almost immediately, rolling her eyes and ignoring him. Dee sniffed. Even if she wasn't a criminal, she was guilty of having horrible taste.
At 5:30, when the museum was closing down for the evening, she left. She hadn't taken any notes or pictures, or done anything remarkable that Dee had been able to observe.
Not long after she'd gone, Ryo entered the room under pretext of looking at the artwork, but really he came to compare notes as had become their practice. He studied the piece Dee was standing closest to, the same one Officer Mosely had taken such an interest in.
"Our best friend was right here," Dee said, keeping his voice low and conversational. "For about one half-hour. She seems to like this print; she did nothing but stare at it the entire time."
"Ah," Ryo said. He looked at the image as though it might contain a hidden clue, although Dee figured if there were one, the squid had stuck it somewhere very far from the light of day. "It's unique and quite famous, but it isn't the most valuable piece here. I wonder why she's so interested?"
"You know a lot about these pictures," Dee commented.
Ryo smiled. "I did a bit of research after my first day of trying to guide tours and answer questions. I knew a little bit about ukiyo-e woodcuts before, but not much at all about shunga." He paused for a few moments before continuing, his smile fading, "My father did not approve of this kind of subject matter." His body posture was stiff and he wouldn't meet Dee's eyes.
The news wasn't particularly surprising, but this was the first time Ryo had said anything to Dee so directly and deeply related to his internal struggle. A bright, warm glow of hope suffused Dee and he reached out and put his hand on Ryo's shoulder.
They were quiet for a few minutes, and then Ryo breathed a heavy sigh - whether of contentment or frustration or something else Dee couldn't be sure - before standing up a little straighter and speaking crisply, "I'll visit our mutual friend tonight and give him the update."
There was no way Ryo was going to Rose's office by himself if Dee could help it. "I'll go with you."
*
"Where are the rugrats?" Dee said, clearing off the supper dishes and filling the sink. Their report to Rose had gone well by Dee's standards, in that Rose hadn't made a single move on Ryo and the meeting had gone quickly, ending well before dinner time. Ryo had made steak and potatoes, Dee's favorite, and that proof of Ryo's care for him was worth twenty meetings with Rose or twenty dinners' worth of dirty dishes.
"They're at a concert tonight. Some local heavy-metal group," Ryo answered, holding a dishtowel in front of his body as though to shield himself from an unwanted advance.
Dee sniffed. As if a little towel like that could halt the force of love and sex that was Dee Laytner.
The dishes were done quickly, and when Dee returned to the living room, it was to the sight of Ryo relaxed on the couch, his leg tucked underneath him and the top few buttons of his shirt undone. The folder from Major Case was open again on the coffee table and he was leaning forward, his dark eyes half-lidded the way they were when he was concentrating intently on something.
The way they were when Dee kissed him.
"Dee, do you think Mosely-"
One knee on the couch, he grabbed Ryo's shoulder and pushed him back into the cushions. Work could wait.
Instead of fighting or tensing up, Ryo melted under his touch as he'd begun to do more often of late. There was no telling how far he'd allow Dee to go.
Still, Dee moved in slowly because Ryo wasn't going anywhere, and because he wanted to savor the feelings of being so close before Ryo froze up and pushed him away again.
Their lips met, and Ryo's mouth opened beneath his immediately, letting Dee's tongue slip inside and meeting it with his own. Ryo's eyes started to close again, this time in pleasure, and Dee moved, lowered himself down and slipped his leg in between Ryo's.
Although Dee made Ryo hard - he could feel it - Ryo didn't move, didn't rub against his leg or grind up into him. Instead, he clung to Dee as though he were drowning, as though nothing made any sense except Dee.
No one had ever needed Dee before, not like that. He wanted to show Ryo things he wouldn't dream of saying out loud, that he didn't have to be afraid of the way it felt when they touched, that it was good and right, that it wouldn't change the way Dee felt about him. Respected him. Needed him.
Loved him.
Dee moved his mouth to Ryo's jaw and to his neck, lightly tasting skin and the slight tang of his warm, musky cologne, lightly scraping with his teeth in places. He shifted his weight, freeing one of his hands to begin unbuttoning Ryo's shirt.
"Dee," Ryo said, his voice deeper than usual, unsteady.
"Shh. I'll stop if it's too much for you," Dee promised. "Just let me-" He opened another button. "Let me-" Another. "Please." Another and another, until Ryo's shirt hung open, exposing his warm skin.
Dee avoided Ryo's nipple, remembering Ryo's embarrassment the last time he'd tried to touch Ryo there, saving that exploration for a later day. Instead, he ran his finger from the hollow at the base of Ryo's throat to his belly button, and then bent his head down and followed the path he had traced with his hands with his tongue.
Slowly, shakily, Ryo's hands moved from where they'd been resting motionless on the couch to Dee's shoulders, gripping them more and more tightly as Dee worked his way down.
His tongue trailed from Ryo's navel to where the angle of his hip began above the waist of his pants, and with his free hand, Dee opened the button. His heart was pounding, and there was so much heat everywhere he was sweating, and he was so afraid Ryo was going to push him away.
But Ryo didn't, and lips still on the firm skin of Ryo's stomach, Dee began to pull his zipper down slowly. Ryo's hands on his shoulders tightened still further, digging into his skin, and Dee hoped more than anything Ryo was leaving marks there.
And then, the phone rang.
They both froze. For a minute, Dee struggled with his desire to rip the thing out of the wall. But then he remembered Carol in the hands of that freak and how they'd very nearly missed her call, and he backed away to let Ryo answer.
"Hello? Yes - No, I'm okay... Just tired... She is? Thank you for letting us know. We'll keep our eyes open for her... Thank you... You too... Goodnight." Ryo set down the receiver and looked over to Dee, a slight blush staining his cheeks.
"That was Detective Eames," he said. "She and Detective Goren found a source on the docks who claims that Officer Mosely has made arrangements to ship several rather large items out of the country without going through customs."
"Great," Dee said. "At least we know she'll make a move soon. Now come back here." Just one blowjob, Dee thought, just one, and Ryo would be his forever. He'd been so close...
"Don't you think we need to get some rest?" Ryo backed away nervously. "Things may get hectic tomorrow-"
"All the more reason to enjoy the time we've got now," Dee said, springing from the couch and chasing Ryo into his bedroom. He'd already lost the battle, he knew, but he could still enjoy a little bit of wrestling until Ryo threw him off; Ryo was much stronger than he looked.
Of course, just then the door opened. Bikki and Carol swooped into the room, and all bets were off - for the evening, anyway.
*
The next day, Mosely arrived at the museum early in the afternoon. This time, instead of ignoring Dee, she purposely moved to stand closer to him than would normally be considered polite.
He leaned in even closer to her so that he could start chatting her up, but she started speaking to him first.
"I know that I don't know you, but you look like such a reliable man, practically a cop, and God, you've got to help me," Mosely said, her voice low, words rushed and breathless. "They've got my sister, and if I don't do what they want, they're going to kill her!"
Dee glanced around the room to make sure no one was close enough to overhear them. "Who is it? Should I call the police? What about Ms. Rodriguez?"
"No! You can't bring anyone else into this! Especially Rodriguez - she's one of them! My sister will die, don't you understand that?"
"One of who? Who's got your sister and what do they want?"
She moved even closer to Dee and whispered in barely a breath, "The Japanese mafia." She nodded to the far corner in which an elderly Asian man in a well-tailored suit stood admiring a particularly explicit orgy scene. "No! Don't look over there! He'll get suspicious!"
Without missing a beat, Dee raised his voice just enough to be heard, "Hey, baby, I don't blame ya for being interested. I'm off on Friday, how about we get together?"
"I'd like that," she replied a little too loudly and then dropped her voice to continue, "That won't fool them for very long. We shouldn't talk at all here - it's too dangerous. Listen, there's supposed to be a message hidden in this room, somewhere near that painting." She pointed directly at the squid print. "I just - I can't get to it by myself, but you - you have after-hours access."
Haven't I seen this in a movie somewhere? Dee thought. Is she supposed to be the secret wife of the squid god or something?
Mosely must have seen something in his face, because she suddenly dropped her gaze to the floor and swallowed. "I knew you wouldn't help me. I guess it's true what they say, that you rent-a-cops don't have what it takes."
"Hey!" Dee bristled. "Of course I'll help. Just tell me what you need me to do."
"There's a message behind the painting. Tonight, after hours, find the message. I'll be here first thing tomorrow to pick it up."
"I'll do it."
Mosely sighed in relief, although her eyes still darted madly around the room with very real fear. "Thank you. And whatever you do, don't tell anyone! My sister raised me after our parents' death. I couldn't take it if anything happened to her."
Dee looked his fellow officer directly in the eyes. "Nothing will happen to your sister, I promise."
*
That night when they met after the Museum closed, Dee gave Ryo a perfunctory report, not mentioning Officer Mosely or what he'd agreed to do. His palms sweating, he nodded to his partner, wishing he could kiss him one more time, hold him, or even just give him a real good-bye, but he couldn't risk blowing their cover.
He remained behind as though guarding the artwork. When the lights dimmed and everyone had gone home for the night, he took out his flashlight and approached the squid.
Museums are creepy places at night in the dark, even art museums. The large squid seemed to glare at him while it slurped away at the fisherman's wife's clit.
A lesser man would've been intimidated, would have quailed in the face of the severe social taboo against touching a roped-off museum exhibit, but not Dee. He'd grown up knocking off drugstores; this was the same principle. More or less.
He glared back at the squid. One arm out, he touched the frame of the picture.
Nothing happened. No alarms, no sirens, no super-cool infra-red trip wires sprang into existence to make his exit difficult. Deep down, a part of him was almost disappointed.
However, most of him was reassured, and he stepped forward and gently lifted the bottom of the frame several inches away from the wall. Taped to the back of the picture was a small envelope.
"Well, hello. What are you?" he murmured. Gently, carefully, he peeled it away from the back of the print, lowered the frame back to the wall, and took a step back.
"I'll just take that now, thank you very much."
Mosely stepped into the room, and Dee found himself staring down the barrel of a New York City police officer's gun.
Dee knew that if he handed the envelope - whatever it was - over, he was as good as dead. Best to keep her talking and hope help came. "What is it?"
"I don't have to tell you that - put it on the floor." She took several steps forward, gesturing sharply with her gun.
"Please. What am I going to do? Report you? Who's going to believe me? Just at least tell me what it is and I will put it down."
"You're not in the position to make any demands, mister," she snarled. With a click, the safety on the gun was released. "Now. Put. It. Down."
Swallowing, Dee started to bend down to the floor. Before the white envelope was even a foot from the ground, the sound of a second gun being cocked filled the room.
"Drop your weapon," Ryo said, his tone icy.
"Don't be ridiculous," she said. "I made you as a cop almost immediately. And because you are an officer of the law, I know you're not going to do anything to endanger Rent-A-Cop over here."
Dee felt his face starting to burn with pure, bright, crimson rage. "I am NOT a rent-a-cop!"
A cold chuckle sounded from across the room. "You're pretty funny, Officer Mosely. If you weren't complete and utter slime, I'd love to have you in my precinct." Berkley Rose pointed his gun at Mosely. "As it stands, however, we have you covered. The game is up."
Panicked, Mosely looked around the room. She shoved her gun once more into Dee's face, and for a heart-stopping second he figured she was going to shoot him anyway, so she could die in a firefight rather than go to prison. Instead, she smiled at him.
"You are kind of cute, you know," she said. She dropped her gun.
She had apparently forgotten that the gun's safety was still off. It fired, and the bullet ricocheted off a marble column, knocking over a display of pornographic netsuke. The small, priceless ivory carvings bounced and rolled all over the floor as the bullet finally embedded itself into the wall of the Met.
Dee put handcuffs - his own, real police-issued handcuffs - on Mosely while Ryo read her rights.
When he was finished, Ryo added, "Shame on you for accusing Mr. Hokusai of being a member of the mafia. He's a community role model. That man has donated more to support the arts than some people make in their lifetime."
"And that's exactly what she was after," Rose said, opening the white envelope. "This contains all of Mr. Hokusai's banking information: account numbers and PIN numbers, as well as several addresses."
"Oh, those addresses will be the locations of several expensive pieces Mr. Hokusai was planning to donate to the city over the next several weeks." Goren said as he and Eames walked into the room. "Officer Mosely worked as a volunteer for his Foundation for several months. Very low level; she and Hokusai never actually met.
"Unfortunately, the Foundation's office manager walked in just as she was finishing her list, and she was forced to hide the information quickly. So she chose this painting, having no idea that it was going on loan to the Met that very same day."
"I should've just shot the bitch," Mosely snapped. "None of this would ever have happened."
"No, you're not a killer," Ryo said. "Would you really want to be?" Mosely didn't answer. Rose, Goren and Eames marched her out of the Met in handcuffs.
Ryo hung back, looking at a particular print, his expression thoughtful.
"What is it?" Dee asked. The picture was the one that had become Dee's favorite, despite having no visible genitalia in it whatsoever: "Samurai kisses male actor" by Miyagawa Isshô. The way the warrior in the picture held the young, pretty boy's face so carefully, tenderly, made his heart ache, just a little.
"This is a lovely piece," Ryo said quietly, and he reached out and took Dee's hand.
"Maybe your father was wrong about this stuff," Dee said carefully.
"I just don't know anymore," Ryo answered, and Dee knew he wasn't talking about the art. "I'm sorry, Dee." With that, Ryo's hand slipped from Dee's and he left the room.
*
There was no celebration for the arrest; catching bad cops may be an important and difficult task, but in the end, no one feels that he or she has won.
Goren and Eames did stay behind after the booking to offer their thanks for the 27th's help. A small, subdued gathering met for as short a time as could be considered polite before people started drifting off to head home and sleep.
Everyone but Goren and Dee had gone, and Goren was just leaving the room when he paused. "I wouldn't give up on him if I were you," he said to Dee. "Some things just take time."
"I'm not sure how much longer I can last," Dee confessed, although he wasn't sure why he said as much to a virtual stranger. Maybe something about Goren encouraged confidences, or maybe Dee was so pathetic he spilled everything to the first sympathetic ear.
"Oh, I don't think you'll be waiting much longer," Goren said and then nodded and left.
"I hope he's right," Dee admitted to the empty office.
* * *
Notes:
Many, many thanks to thistlerose for her fantastic beta work.
Special love to Law & Order: Criminal Intent for the borrowing of Eames and Goren.
There is also a (very) minor reference to Dan Brown's Da Vinci Code.
Links to some of the pieces of artwork referenced in this story:
The Dream of the Fisherman's Wife, Samurai Kiss, Suzuki Harunobu
The artist of "The Dream of the Fisherman's Wife" is Hokusai, so I used his name for my Japanese philanthropist.
Rating: R
Note: This takes place between the 6th and 7th manga.
Written for: krazysidhe for yuletide 2008
Wordcount: 5,000ish
The Security Guard and the Kabuki Player
"Who're they?" Dee looked up from the report he'd been not-working on for three hours and stabbed his finger in the air to where Berkley Rose led a couple of plainclothes to his borrowed office. He tipped back in his chair to get a better look.
"So rude," Ryo muttered. Everyone ignored him.
"Janet said they're from Major Case," Drake offered.
"Major Case?" The front two legs of Dee's chair came crashing down. "What would Major Case be doing in a hole like this?"
"They're probably here to offer you a promotion, Dee-sama!" JJ gushed.
"I don't think so," Drake, Ted and Ryo said together.
Dee glared, put out for all of two seconds. "Maybe we can get some intel outta the chief - it's not like he has anything better to do anyway."
"Ha! Like he's going to know anything," Ted said. "That badger's so in the dark he's practically a mushroom."
"True, true. The last time Chief had a clue, this precinct had a stable." Dee laughed easily, not noticing at first that JJ and Drake weren't joining in and Ryo was doing his best to pretend he was somewhere else.
When he did notice, he sighed. "He's right behind me, isn't he."
"Of course I am, asshole! What are we paying you mutts for? Maclean, Laytner - you jerks get your asses to Rose's office. The rest of you idiots GET BACK TO WORK!"
Dee and Ryo went to Rose's office - not hurrying, of course, although it would be rude to keep their visitors waiting.
Rose stood behind his desk, seemingly locked into some kind of staring contest with one of the new detectives. The man Berkley was so captivated by was very tall, with dark hair and dark eyes. The other detective - his partner, Dee assumed - was a stunning blond woman who was frowning as though unimpressed by what Carol referred to as a display of testosterone.
"You asked for us?" Ryo cut into the silence, ending the spell.
"Yes, Detectives Laytner, Maclean, meet the very accomplished Detective Goren-" he gestured to the tall man, "-and his partner, Detective Eames." Almost as though she was an afterthought, Rose gestured to the blond woman.
"Welcome to the temporary home of the 27th," Dee said, directing his most charming grin at Eames until Ryo shot him a look that Dee hoped was a jealous one.
"These are our finest detectives," Rose said. "Detective Maclean in particular has some experience in the art and antiquities world. I'm sure he will be able to help you track down the thief." He smiled at Ryo in a manner that, in Dee's opinion, was barely a step removed from sexual harassment.
Dee squashed down the impulse to punch his superior officer and then looked quickly to Ryo, worried that Rose's casual reference to Ryo's murdered parents' import business would be upsetting. But he met Dee's eye, inclined his head, and smiled a little in that way he had, the one that said that everything was going to be okay.
He looked so fucking hot when he did that Dee's hands itched to grab him, throw him down, and have his way with him right on Rose's desk.
"The Metropolitan Museum of Art is hosting a very special Asian exhibit this month." Goren cut into Dee's daydream. "A Japanese collector is lending the Met some of the finest pieces of shunga artwork, many of them from the Edo period. It is a great honor to our city, but we've received a tip that someone is planning to steal some of the pieces."
"Why ask us for help? The Met isn't even close to our precinct." Ryo cut right to the heart of the issue; the 27th was a small, unimpressive precinct with a fairly poor arrest record. Something this high-profile was worlds away from the type of cases that usually crossed their desks.
Eames looked at them, opened her mouth slightly as though to speak, but hesitated.
"It's a cop, isn't it?" Dee guessed. It was the only answer that made sense. Dee couldn't imagine one of their co-workers at the 27th harboring a secret fetish for ancient Japanese art, and there were much easier ways for a dirty cop in the slums who just wanted to make a quick buck.
"We think so." Eames nodded. "We are working with Internal Affairs on that angle. What we need are people on the inside, undercover. The two of you will pose as museum employees and listen to the conversations people have as they walk through the exhibits. Report anything that sounds suspicious, or anyone who seems like they might be an off-duty cop."
"Here is the information we've gathered so far." Goren handed Ryo the case file, which was disappointingly slim.
"To explain your absence, the official story for the next few weeks will be that you are being suspended for inappropriate behavior," Rose said with only the faintest edge of a smirk. He looked at Ryo as he continued, "You will report directly to me with your findings."
Casually, Dee stepped between Rose and Ryo, breaking Rose's line of sight.
"Well, it looks like I don't have to warn you to watch each other's backs," Goren said with a smile. "Which is good, because if this is a dirty cop-"
"Things could get ugly." Ryo nodded.
*
That night, they met at Ryo's apartment to read the case file and discuss their strategy.
Bikki, evil beast from Hell, sworn enemy of all things good and manly and Ryo-wanting, was sitting in front of the television playing a video game. Periodically, he paused and turned to stick his bratty little nose in Dee and Ryo's business, making sure Dee wasn't "taking advantage" - although Bikki was kidding himself if he still thought Ryo was the type that was easily taken advantage of.
Ryo was quiet and seemed soft, but after years and more than a little shared danger, Dee had yet to find an end to Ryo's strength.
"The main suspect is Officer Ann Mosely. Here is her picture." Ryo held up the same horrible ID picture all cops were required to take. Mosely, a thirty-something woman with brown hair, stared out at them with sad eyes.
"They have security footage of Officer Mosely in the shunga exhibit area several times while it was being prepped. The exhibit wasn't open to the public yet; she shouldn't have been there at all."
"There has to be more. I mean, so what? She wanted an early look at the pictures," Dee said. "Though I can't imagine what's so exciting about them."
Ryo stared at him as though he'd just said something completely ridiculous.
"What?"
"Nothing."
The corner of Ryo's mouth twitched in an adorable little half-smile that looked completely, totally, and ravishingly edible. He barely heard Ryo continue: "The suspect has only been on the force for four years, and - what?" He halted in mid-sentence.
"What?"
"You're not even listening," Ryo sighed.
"I was thinking."
"HA!" Bikki yelled from across the room. "That horrible pervert's planning to do something! Punch him, Ryo!"
"You miserable little worm!" Dee shot back. "You are going down!"
It was almost an hour before the case was mentioned again.
*
They were greeted a full two hours before the Museum opened by the curator herself.
"Good morning! You can call me Isabela. It's always lovely to have the police right here watching over us and our treasures. But first things first - I do have just a little bit of paperwork one of you will need to fill out in the office over there."
Isabela Rodriguez was a tiny woman old enough to be Dee's grandmother who spoke with a slight Hispanic accent, at times almost too rapidly to follow. She gestured at a small door down the hallway. "Marcia will help get you ready to start working when it's all done."
Dee was suddenly and overwhelmingly fascinated with the nearest painting. The more he studied it, the more it looked as though Dr. Seuss had gotten violently drunk with Papa Smurf and they had taken turns vomiting cubist nightmares in primary colors all over the poor, innocent canvas. He was captivated, his eyes were glued to it, he found he simply couldn't look away - until Ryo sighed and left to tackle the paperwork.
"Your turn now," Isabela looked him up and down, frowning as though she knew exactly what he'd just pulled. She reminded Dee just a little bit of Penguin, the kind nun who'd been like a mother to him. "I have just the job for you."
She pulled a bundle of clothing from a cabinet and shoved it into Dee's arms. He glanced down and took one look at the ridiculously large, glittery plastic badge, and his stomach sank to his feet.
*
"Does it fit?" Isabela's no-nonsense voice stabbed like a dagger through the thick men's room door, piercing Dee's sense of professional pride and twisting painfully.
Dee looked in the mirror at his new uniform, bravely forcing back the tears that threatened to spill. At least Ryo was still filling out paperwork and was nowhere nearby to see him like this.
"There has to be something else! Please? I'll mop the floors. I'll clean the toilets. I'll do anything!"
It was horrible. It was terrible. It couldn't possibly get any worse.
The uniform was just sad. Nothing about it was like the regular police officer's uniform that it made a pathetic attempt to emulate. The scratchy, cheap polyester was the wrong shade of blue for a cop. And if the word SECURITY printed in bright yellow letters over the pocket didn't advertise his civilian status clearly enough, the too-large, sparkly silver-and-gold badge did.
"Don't be such a child. It can't be that bad," Ryo said, his voice only slightly muffled through the thick door.
It had gotten worse.
"Forget it! Tell the chief I quit."
"Dee-" The men's room door swung open. Too late, Dee wished he'd thought to lock it.
"Dee... You're..." Kind, beautiful Ryo covered his mouth as though in horror. Unfortunately, Dee knew him well enough to see the laughter in his eyes.
"Don't you EVER tell the guys about this."
A little bit of laughter escaped from behind Ryo's hand. "A rent-a-cop? You're going to be a rent-a-cop?"
"Security professional. And shut up."
"Okay. I'm sorry." Ryo managed to get himself under control - in much less time than it would've taken Dee had their positions been reversed.
"That's okay," Dee agreed, stalling until a nice, big hole in the ground opened up. Which, he figured, if there were any justice or fairness in the world, would happen any second.
"We should concentrate on the case, not on our clothes. Undercover work isn't always glamorous, but it is part of the job." With a quick side glance to the door, Ryo leaned up and gave Dee the slightest, softest whisper of a kiss on his lips.
"Exactly," Dee said, dazed. "Part of the job." He reached out to grab Ryo, who sidestepped and evaded him.
"Ready to go back?" Ryo said as though nothing had happened.
Dee nodded. Later, he had every intention of catching Ryo and going into great and pleasurable detail about just why it was such a bad idea for Ryo to kiss him in empty men's rooms, but for now they had a job to do.
He opened the door and started to walk out. At the last moment, Ryo stopped him with a touch to the shoulder and said, "Oh, and Dee?"
"Yeah?"
"Nice badge."
*
All Dee knew about shunga artwork was that it, like Ryo, was Japanese. He certainly wasn't prepared for the sight that greeted him when he walked into the exhibit hall.
Apparently "shunga" was Japanese for "pictures of lots of people with very large genitals having lots of sex." The exhibit was one of the most wonderful things he'd ever seen.
"Close your mouth, you're drooling," Ryo muttered. "Pervert."
"Me? What about the guys who did these paintings? Or the people in them! Is there anything they didn't do? Men, women, animals... Look! That woman over there is getting it on with a squid!" Dee gaped. "Kinky!"
*
Guarding artwork was boring. Even ancient, pornographic artwork. Even the one with all the monks and the giant penises and the bell, which was admittedly inspirational.
Dee stood in the corner of a large hallway, watching. Every few hours Ryo, whose undercover role was that of a tour guide, would lead a group through the hallway. He'd stop before several of the pictures, give interesting facts about the artist and the context of the work, and then proceed to describe each scene in just enough detail to get Dee really, really hard, before leaving for the next room.
In between tours, Dee spent most of the rest of the time imagining Ryo dressed up like an unusually muscular kabuki player and making frequent trips to the bathroom.
It wasn't until the third day that they finally got a break on the case. Officer Mosely came in shortly before closing time, after the last of the tours was finished for the day. She spent a good half-hour in front of a particularly intriguing piece featuring a woman and two squids called "The Dream of the Fisherman's Wife."
Dee made no effort to hide the fact that he was staring at her; rather, he made sure to be as obvious about it as possible. He checked her out as though she were the hottest thing he'd ever seen - although she fell far short of his usual standards - silently praying that Ryo wouldn't walk in.
She noticed almost immediately, rolling her eyes and ignoring him. Dee sniffed. Even if she wasn't a criminal, she was guilty of having horrible taste.
At 5:30, when the museum was closing down for the evening, she left. She hadn't taken any notes or pictures, or done anything remarkable that Dee had been able to observe.
Not long after she'd gone, Ryo entered the room under pretext of looking at the artwork, but really he came to compare notes as had become their practice. He studied the piece Dee was standing closest to, the same one Officer Mosely had taken such an interest in.
"Our best friend was right here," Dee said, keeping his voice low and conversational. "For about one half-hour. She seems to like this print; she did nothing but stare at it the entire time."
"Ah," Ryo said. He looked at the image as though it might contain a hidden clue, although Dee figured if there were one, the squid had stuck it somewhere very far from the light of day. "It's unique and quite famous, but it isn't the most valuable piece here. I wonder why she's so interested?"
"You know a lot about these pictures," Dee commented.
Ryo smiled. "I did a bit of research after my first day of trying to guide tours and answer questions. I knew a little bit about ukiyo-e woodcuts before, but not much at all about shunga." He paused for a few moments before continuing, his smile fading, "My father did not approve of this kind of subject matter." His body posture was stiff and he wouldn't meet Dee's eyes.
The news wasn't particularly surprising, but this was the first time Ryo had said anything to Dee so directly and deeply related to his internal struggle. A bright, warm glow of hope suffused Dee and he reached out and put his hand on Ryo's shoulder.
They were quiet for a few minutes, and then Ryo breathed a heavy sigh - whether of contentment or frustration or something else Dee couldn't be sure - before standing up a little straighter and speaking crisply, "I'll visit our mutual friend tonight and give him the update."
There was no way Ryo was going to Rose's office by himself if Dee could help it. "I'll go with you."
*
"Where are the rugrats?" Dee said, clearing off the supper dishes and filling the sink. Their report to Rose had gone well by Dee's standards, in that Rose hadn't made a single move on Ryo and the meeting had gone quickly, ending well before dinner time. Ryo had made steak and potatoes, Dee's favorite, and that proof of Ryo's care for him was worth twenty meetings with Rose or twenty dinners' worth of dirty dishes.
"They're at a concert tonight. Some local heavy-metal group," Ryo answered, holding a dishtowel in front of his body as though to shield himself from an unwanted advance.
Dee sniffed. As if a little towel like that could halt the force of love and sex that was Dee Laytner.
The dishes were done quickly, and when Dee returned to the living room, it was to the sight of Ryo relaxed on the couch, his leg tucked underneath him and the top few buttons of his shirt undone. The folder from Major Case was open again on the coffee table and he was leaning forward, his dark eyes half-lidded the way they were when he was concentrating intently on something.
The way they were when Dee kissed him.
"Dee, do you think Mosely-"
One knee on the couch, he grabbed Ryo's shoulder and pushed him back into the cushions. Work could wait.
Instead of fighting or tensing up, Ryo melted under his touch as he'd begun to do more often of late. There was no telling how far he'd allow Dee to go.
Still, Dee moved in slowly because Ryo wasn't going anywhere, and because he wanted to savor the feelings of being so close before Ryo froze up and pushed him away again.
Their lips met, and Ryo's mouth opened beneath his immediately, letting Dee's tongue slip inside and meeting it with his own. Ryo's eyes started to close again, this time in pleasure, and Dee moved, lowered himself down and slipped his leg in between Ryo's.
Although Dee made Ryo hard - he could feel it - Ryo didn't move, didn't rub against his leg or grind up into him. Instead, he clung to Dee as though he were drowning, as though nothing made any sense except Dee.
No one had ever needed Dee before, not like that. He wanted to show Ryo things he wouldn't dream of saying out loud, that he didn't have to be afraid of the way it felt when they touched, that it was good and right, that it wouldn't change the way Dee felt about him. Respected him. Needed him.
Loved him.
Dee moved his mouth to Ryo's jaw and to his neck, lightly tasting skin and the slight tang of his warm, musky cologne, lightly scraping with his teeth in places. He shifted his weight, freeing one of his hands to begin unbuttoning Ryo's shirt.
"Dee," Ryo said, his voice deeper than usual, unsteady.
"Shh. I'll stop if it's too much for you," Dee promised. "Just let me-" He opened another button. "Let me-" Another. "Please." Another and another, until Ryo's shirt hung open, exposing his warm skin.
Dee avoided Ryo's nipple, remembering Ryo's embarrassment the last time he'd tried to touch Ryo there, saving that exploration for a later day. Instead, he ran his finger from the hollow at the base of Ryo's throat to his belly button, and then bent his head down and followed the path he had traced with his hands with his tongue.
Slowly, shakily, Ryo's hands moved from where they'd been resting motionless on the couch to Dee's shoulders, gripping them more and more tightly as Dee worked his way down.
His tongue trailed from Ryo's navel to where the angle of his hip began above the waist of his pants, and with his free hand, Dee opened the button. His heart was pounding, and there was so much heat everywhere he was sweating, and he was so afraid Ryo was going to push him away.
But Ryo didn't, and lips still on the firm skin of Ryo's stomach, Dee began to pull his zipper down slowly. Ryo's hands on his shoulders tightened still further, digging into his skin, and Dee hoped more than anything Ryo was leaving marks there.
And then, the phone rang.
They both froze. For a minute, Dee struggled with his desire to rip the thing out of the wall. But then he remembered Carol in the hands of that freak and how they'd very nearly missed her call, and he backed away to let Ryo answer.
"Hello? Yes - No, I'm okay... Just tired... She is? Thank you for letting us know. We'll keep our eyes open for her... Thank you... You too... Goodnight." Ryo set down the receiver and looked over to Dee, a slight blush staining his cheeks.
"That was Detective Eames," he said. "She and Detective Goren found a source on the docks who claims that Officer Mosely has made arrangements to ship several rather large items out of the country without going through customs."
"Great," Dee said. "At least we know she'll make a move soon. Now come back here." Just one blowjob, Dee thought, just one, and Ryo would be his forever. He'd been so close...
"Don't you think we need to get some rest?" Ryo backed away nervously. "Things may get hectic tomorrow-"
"All the more reason to enjoy the time we've got now," Dee said, springing from the couch and chasing Ryo into his bedroom. He'd already lost the battle, he knew, but he could still enjoy a little bit of wrestling until Ryo threw him off; Ryo was much stronger than he looked.
Of course, just then the door opened. Bikki and Carol swooped into the room, and all bets were off - for the evening, anyway.
*
The next day, Mosely arrived at the museum early in the afternoon. This time, instead of ignoring Dee, she purposely moved to stand closer to him than would normally be considered polite.
He leaned in even closer to her so that he could start chatting her up, but she started speaking to him first.
"I know that I don't know you, but you look like such a reliable man, practically a cop, and God, you've got to help me," Mosely said, her voice low, words rushed and breathless. "They've got my sister, and if I don't do what they want, they're going to kill her!"
Dee glanced around the room to make sure no one was close enough to overhear them. "Who is it? Should I call the police? What about Ms. Rodriguez?"
"No! You can't bring anyone else into this! Especially Rodriguez - she's one of them! My sister will die, don't you understand that?"
"One of who? Who's got your sister and what do they want?"
She moved even closer to Dee and whispered in barely a breath, "The Japanese mafia." She nodded to the far corner in which an elderly Asian man in a well-tailored suit stood admiring a particularly explicit orgy scene. "No! Don't look over there! He'll get suspicious!"
Without missing a beat, Dee raised his voice just enough to be heard, "Hey, baby, I don't blame ya for being interested. I'm off on Friday, how about we get together?"
"I'd like that," she replied a little too loudly and then dropped her voice to continue, "That won't fool them for very long. We shouldn't talk at all here - it's too dangerous. Listen, there's supposed to be a message hidden in this room, somewhere near that painting." She pointed directly at the squid print. "I just - I can't get to it by myself, but you - you have after-hours access."
Haven't I seen this in a movie somewhere? Dee thought. Is she supposed to be the secret wife of the squid god or something?
Mosely must have seen something in his face, because she suddenly dropped her gaze to the floor and swallowed. "I knew you wouldn't help me. I guess it's true what they say, that you rent-a-cops don't have what it takes."
"Hey!" Dee bristled. "Of course I'll help. Just tell me what you need me to do."
"There's a message behind the painting. Tonight, after hours, find the message. I'll be here first thing tomorrow to pick it up."
"I'll do it."
Mosely sighed in relief, although her eyes still darted madly around the room with very real fear. "Thank you. And whatever you do, don't tell anyone! My sister raised me after our parents' death. I couldn't take it if anything happened to her."
Dee looked his fellow officer directly in the eyes. "Nothing will happen to your sister, I promise."
*
That night when they met after the Museum closed, Dee gave Ryo a perfunctory report, not mentioning Officer Mosely or what he'd agreed to do. His palms sweating, he nodded to his partner, wishing he could kiss him one more time, hold him, or even just give him a real good-bye, but he couldn't risk blowing their cover.
He remained behind as though guarding the artwork. When the lights dimmed and everyone had gone home for the night, he took out his flashlight and approached the squid.
Museums are creepy places at night in the dark, even art museums. The large squid seemed to glare at him while it slurped away at the fisherman's wife's clit.
A lesser man would've been intimidated, would have quailed in the face of the severe social taboo against touching a roped-off museum exhibit, but not Dee. He'd grown up knocking off drugstores; this was the same principle. More or less.
He glared back at the squid. One arm out, he touched the frame of the picture.
Nothing happened. No alarms, no sirens, no super-cool infra-red trip wires sprang into existence to make his exit difficult. Deep down, a part of him was almost disappointed.
However, most of him was reassured, and he stepped forward and gently lifted the bottom of the frame several inches away from the wall. Taped to the back of the picture was a small envelope.
"Well, hello. What are you?" he murmured. Gently, carefully, he peeled it away from the back of the print, lowered the frame back to the wall, and took a step back.
"I'll just take that now, thank you very much."
Mosely stepped into the room, and Dee found himself staring down the barrel of a New York City police officer's gun.
Dee knew that if he handed the envelope - whatever it was - over, he was as good as dead. Best to keep her talking and hope help came. "What is it?"
"I don't have to tell you that - put it on the floor." She took several steps forward, gesturing sharply with her gun.
"Please. What am I going to do? Report you? Who's going to believe me? Just at least tell me what it is and I will put it down."
"You're not in the position to make any demands, mister," she snarled. With a click, the safety on the gun was released. "Now. Put. It. Down."
Swallowing, Dee started to bend down to the floor. Before the white envelope was even a foot from the ground, the sound of a second gun being cocked filled the room.
"Drop your weapon," Ryo said, his tone icy.
"Don't be ridiculous," she said. "I made you as a cop almost immediately. And because you are an officer of the law, I know you're not going to do anything to endanger Rent-A-Cop over here."
Dee felt his face starting to burn with pure, bright, crimson rage. "I am NOT a rent-a-cop!"
A cold chuckle sounded from across the room. "You're pretty funny, Officer Mosely. If you weren't complete and utter slime, I'd love to have you in my precinct." Berkley Rose pointed his gun at Mosely. "As it stands, however, we have you covered. The game is up."
Panicked, Mosely looked around the room. She shoved her gun once more into Dee's face, and for a heart-stopping second he figured she was going to shoot him anyway, so she could die in a firefight rather than go to prison. Instead, she smiled at him.
"You are kind of cute, you know," she said. She dropped her gun.
She had apparently forgotten that the gun's safety was still off. It fired, and the bullet ricocheted off a marble column, knocking over a display of pornographic netsuke. The small, priceless ivory carvings bounced and rolled all over the floor as the bullet finally embedded itself into the wall of the Met.
Dee put handcuffs - his own, real police-issued handcuffs - on Mosely while Ryo read her rights.
When he was finished, Ryo added, "Shame on you for accusing Mr. Hokusai of being a member of the mafia. He's a community role model. That man has donated more to support the arts than some people make in their lifetime."
"And that's exactly what she was after," Rose said, opening the white envelope. "This contains all of Mr. Hokusai's banking information: account numbers and PIN numbers, as well as several addresses."
"Oh, those addresses will be the locations of several expensive pieces Mr. Hokusai was planning to donate to the city over the next several weeks." Goren said as he and Eames walked into the room. "Officer Mosely worked as a volunteer for his Foundation for several months. Very low level; she and Hokusai never actually met.
"Unfortunately, the Foundation's office manager walked in just as she was finishing her list, and she was forced to hide the information quickly. So she chose this painting, having no idea that it was going on loan to the Met that very same day."
"I should've just shot the bitch," Mosely snapped. "None of this would ever have happened."
"No, you're not a killer," Ryo said. "Would you really want to be?" Mosely didn't answer. Rose, Goren and Eames marched her out of the Met in handcuffs.
Ryo hung back, looking at a particular print, his expression thoughtful.
"What is it?" Dee asked. The picture was the one that had become Dee's favorite, despite having no visible genitalia in it whatsoever: "Samurai kisses male actor" by Miyagawa Isshô. The way the warrior in the picture held the young, pretty boy's face so carefully, tenderly, made his heart ache, just a little.
"This is a lovely piece," Ryo said quietly, and he reached out and took Dee's hand.
"Maybe your father was wrong about this stuff," Dee said carefully.
"I just don't know anymore," Ryo answered, and Dee knew he wasn't talking about the art. "I'm sorry, Dee." With that, Ryo's hand slipped from Dee's and he left the room.
*
There was no celebration for the arrest; catching bad cops may be an important and difficult task, but in the end, no one feels that he or she has won.
Goren and Eames did stay behind after the booking to offer their thanks for the 27th's help. A small, subdued gathering met for as short a time as could be considered polite before people started drifting off to head home and sleep.
Everyone but Goren and Dee had gone, and Goren was just leaving the room when he paused. "I wouldn't give up on him if I were you," he said to Dee. "Some things just take time."
"I'm not sure how much longer I can last," Dee confessed, although he wasn't sure why he said as much to a virtual stranger. Maybe something about Goren encouraged confidences, or maybe Dee was so pathetic he spilled everything to the first sympathetic ear.
"Oh, I don't think you'll be waiting much longer," Goren said and then nodded and left.
"I hope he's right," Dee admitted to the empty office.
* * *
Notes:
Many, many thanks to thistlerose for her fantastic beta work.
Special love to Law & Order: Criminal Intent for the borrowing of Eames and Goren.
There is also a (very) minor reference to Dan Brown's Da Vinci Code.
Links to some of the pieces of artwork referenced in this story:
The Dream of the Fisherman's Wife, Samurai Kiss, Suzuki Harunobu
The artist of "The Dream of the Fisherman's Wife" is Hokusai, so I used his name for my Japanese philanthropist.