2 Past Thoughts

* = flashback

Westly mindlessly stared at the Illex's city landscape in front of him. The soft lights of buildings and homes flickering against the dreary backdrop of smog, steel, and stone. From how serene the cold, winter night looked, a person wouldn't have suspected that it was one of the most crime-infested cities in the states. Some were even joking that it was becoming the new LA or Chicago. It had been 2 days since he had encountered Jian at the club and the mob boss's words still rang through his mind like a steel drum. Westly took a deep breath of the cold night air, letting it pierce his lungs. The gentle wind of his apartment's rooftop slowly wrapping around him, like a soothing hug of a mother. He looked down at a scruffy police badge blaring back at him. His calloused fingers gently tracing the outline of every ridge and crevice.

*"Tadah!" Westly flashed a toothy grin, his chest puffed up in pride as he flashed his brand new police badge. "I'm officially a police officer." He quickly stood up straight in a salute pose, his formal police attire adorning his frame. The crowd of fellow graduates poured out of the halls, their families and friends on the concrete steps of the building. The buzzing noise of the cityscape melded with the cheers and praises of congratulations. Westly looked at the elder detective, giddy as a bee. The older's salt and pepper hair put up in a half attempt to be formal. His dark brown suit crinkled and a size a bit too small for him. Honestly, with the caseload Scotty had, Westly wasn't sure that the experienced detective would have made it to the ceremony. He was elated that he did.

"Good job, rookie. I honestly thought you wouldn't make it." Scotty snickered, swiping the younger's hat so that he could ruffle Westly's nicely combed hair.

"If I didn't make it, that just means that I had a bad teacher." Westly teased back.

"Woooow, I don't remember raising you on sass. I can already tell you're gonna get an ass whoopin from your superiors with that mouth of yours," Scotty flicked the other's forehead. He couldn't believe that the kid he took in over a decade ago was now grown up and ready to protect the city. The fond memories of seeing Westly dress up in his obviously oversized police uniform, waving around his own roughed up badge around, flickered across his mind. Scotty grabbed the back of Westly's neck, pulling the younger closer so that their foreheads were touching one another. Westly eyes widened for a moment from the initial shock, looking up at Scotty to see the latter's eyes closed, a bright grin spread across his face."You're going to make a great cop, kid. I'm so proud of you."*

Hot droplets began to form in the corner of Westly's eyes. They threatened to fall down his cheeks. Westly gripped onto the badge tightly. His fingers trembling slightly at the tension. Though his mind was telling him to bite back the tears, his own body was beginning to betray him. He took a deep breath and quickly wiped away the threatening droplets from his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket.

"Yah! I've been trying to call you all night! What if I had died or-" Katsu burst through the entrance of the rooftop, about to tell off the other, only to immediately stop in his tracks at the sight of his best friend. "Why are you crying?" Katsu immediately came over to the ledge where Westly was sitting, cupping the other's face and noticing the redness of Westly's eyes.

"I'm not crying. My eyes are just sweating." Westly grumbled, but he couldn't stop the small sniff that escaped him. Katsue merely rolled his eyes.

"What are you? Five? If you're going to cry, just do it." Katsu jokingly scolded, a sympathetic smile on his face. Katsu used his sweater paw and patted the 'sweat' that still remained in Westly's eyes. He plopped himself on the ledge next to Westly, glancing down to see the badge in the other's grip. "You're thinking about that case again?"

"When am I not?" Westly let out a sad chuckle, trying to mask over his emotions with laughter. Katsu frowned. He hated when Westly did that, avoiding the obvious burden digging away at his heart. Striving forward like a steamroller and not allowing himself to properly grieve. It was if Westly was punishing himself for what had happened 2 years ago.

When Scotty had passed and was suspected of distributing and taking drugs, the entirety of Division 9 was taken aback. To them, Scotty was the epitome of a great detective and person. He looked out for his fellow teammates and was always an advocate for the people, never seeing a person as simply bad or good. They had lost a friend and precious colleague. But for Westly, he lost his family, a piece of himself, and he chose to fill that void with an unhealthy obsession with discovering the truth about the case.

"Scotty is innocent," Westly simply stated, not directing those words to anyone in particular. Katsu gently placed his hand on Westly's back, replying in silence. Just like Westly, Katsu wanted to believe that Scotty was innocent, that there was no way the great detective would commit murder and commit suicide. But as more and more physical evidence poured in, the seeds of doubt buried within his heart. "If only I could just remember what happened that night…" Westley pressed his palms, against his skull in frustration. If Westly could only remember what happened after he had entered the warehouse. He had followed Scotty there, after the elder detective had received a strange phone call, but then….

"Hey, stop squeezing your head like that," Katsu swiped Westly's hands away. "If you keep squeezing like that, you're gonna make your already pea-sized brain smaller," Katsu teasingly smiled. Westly frowned, an unamused pout on his face, as he pinched the analyst's cheek as revenge. "When the time comes, it'll come. 'No matter where you run, the truth is always bound to find you.' Scotty used to always say that, remember?" The two both let out a small chuckle, suddenly remembering when Scotty would scold them with the exact same line for doing something stupid and trying to hide it from him. "Just don't be a dumbass and do anything dangerous like your strange stalker tendencies towards Jian."

"I'm not stalking him! It's called a thorough investigation." Westly huffed.

"Uh-huh. Like knowing that he likes wearing Tommy Hilfiger boxer briefs is gonna help you in your investigation." Katsu rolled his eyes.

"It's not Tommy Hilfiger, it's Oakley!" Westly unintentionally corrected, earning a raised brow and lip from Katsu. Maybe Katsu had a point. "Anyways, he showed up to the club on his own this time, I didn't have anything to do with it."

"Wait, what? He showed up to a gay brothel?" Katsu's jaw dropped, highly intrigued by this nugget of gossip. "I've heard rumors that he went for both boys and girls, but I didn't think-"

"He didn't go there for that!"

"Then what? Hmmmm?" Katsu smiled, amused. Especially at how defensive the Westly was getting.

"He was there making a deal with the head of the Yamadachi group. I don't know exactly what, but I know that there are some small-time drug deals going on in that club…" Westly mumbled, his mind beginning to rack over what Jian's intentions could possibly be.

Since Jian's brother had taken over the group years ago, Ouroboros appeared to have strayed from the underworld. They had shut down prostitution clubs they owned and converted them into more wholesome stores. Any clubs they did decide to keep, they legitimized. Jian's brother then trying to cut ties completely with the drug and arms trade, but that was easier said than done. The two sectors being the group's main source of income for decades, hence both Jian and his brother garnered enemies in and out of the group. Westly found it hard to imagine that Jian would allow his brother to suffer through the betrayal and threats only to stomp on their efforts to convert Ouroboros.

"Well, it looks like this could be an opportunity to finally get evidence on Jian and arrest him so you can properly interrogate him. Ya know…" Katsu leaned back, a Cheshire smile growing on his face. "Instead of rummaging through his underwear drawer."

"I've never gone through his underwear drawer!" Westly hissed, his cheeks turning a shade of bright red as Katsu broke into laughter.

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Westly robotically began cleaning up the slew of used glassware that decorated the top of the club's tables. This night was more crowded than most with men and women either holing away on one of the couches, cozying up with some of the male staff, or dancing away on the dance floor. Westly let a frustrated sigh, cursing under his breath every time a random drunk stranger bumped into him while he was cleaning, or worse, tried to grope his butt. He made sure to twist the thumbs of all who dared to go towards his uncharted territory. Even with his threats, the attempts were still as vicious and unabashed, egged on by the costume he was wearing. He didn't know exactly what the theme of the night was, but as soon as he came into the club, their manager had shoved him a pair of pointed dog ears and a fluffy curled dog tail to attach to his everyday uniform. His coworkers were given similar attire, ranging from cats to bunnies, hell even ducks. Westly wasn't one to judge other people's fetishes.

Just a few more days. Those words had basically become his mantra for the past few weeks. A small bite of frustration sitting in his stomach. He knew that there was going to be some sort of deal with the Yamadachi group, or else why would Jian even bother being here. Fortunately, through his snooping, he figured that the club was closing early tomorrow due to 'private' business so he had the where and when. The only problem was now was the 'what'. Westly could only assume would be drugs. Of course, there could have been the other alternative since this club did provide 'those' services.

*"I've heard rumors that he went for both boys and girls…"*

Westly shook Katsu's words out of his head. Westly had heard the rumors too. I mean, Jian was an attractive, tall, wealthy man with an air of mystery. Westly wouldn't be surprised if the mob boss had a lover or two. Man or women. So if the mobster did decide to take upon the other form of 'product' this club provided…

"What the hell are you thinking, Westly…Are you some pervert..." Westly scolded himself under his breath, smacking the side of his head to see if he could literally knock the thought out.

Westly shook his head to be rid of the devil's thoughts, looking up from his mass of dirty glassware to notice a patron and worker cozied up along the leather couches. The patron was surrounded by his co-workers with other patrons close by, chatting up the boys who sent the patrons flirty glances in hopes of earning a few extra tips. As one of his co-workers, the one in the cat ears, was chatting away with a patron, another client had swiftly dropped what seemed to be pills in his co-workers drink. Not on this guard dog watch. Westly quickly glanced around, making sure that now was the right opportunity to hatch his scheme. He took a deep breath, ready to put his middle school acting skills to the test.

"What the fuck are you doing!" The client screamed as Westly basically dumped the entire tray of glassware on the man because he 'tripped.' Westly did say that he would test his middle school acting skills. He never said that he would pass.

"Whoops! My hand slip." Westly shrugged.

"Christ!" His coworker in the cat-eared let out a frustrated groan. "I am so sorry about that, he's new," His coworker glared at him. Westly bit back the chance to roll his eyes. "Why don't we drink something to make you feel better, hmm?" His coworker began reaching out towards the drugged glass. Nope. Westly nonchalantly slapped the drink out of his co worker's hand, having it land on the client that tried to drug him.

"You dumbass! I swear I'm gonna kill you!" The client immediately stood up, heavy breaths of attempted intimidation.

"Oh man, I am so sorry about that. I have a condition called punkassitis. It just flares up whenever I am near one." Westly simply smiled, as if he hadn't caused a ruckus. The other co-workers were trying to soothe the fuming client, placating him with sweet words and sensual touches. While they were doing that, Westly had other priorities. He noted that the scum had left his small bag of drugs on the table, one tablet still left in the package. He quickly swiped the bag amidst the commotion.

"WEST!" The sound of the bartender barking his alias signaled to Westly that it was his time to bolt out of there.

Fortunately for Westly, the bartender was in such a sour mood that he screamed for Westly to go back home, which the latter was happy to comply with. Westly took a huge breath of relief to be outside of the seedy club, though he didn't appreciate that he was in such a rush to leave he didn't have the time to change. He was also sure that if he lingered there any longer, the bartender would have smacked him in the back of the head with a tequila bottle. The cold air was not welcoming to his nearly naked body, only dressed in his work attire and a jacket. Westly scanned the area, ensuring that no suspicious guest or rapist was nearby when he pulled out his findings from the back pocket of his leather pants.

He pulled out the bag to survey its contents. The pale purple pill stared back at Westly and for just a moment the detective felt like he was in a trance, staring at the drug under the moonlight. It looked familiar, Westly couldn't wrap his head around it, but he had seen the drug before. His mind began to comb through where he could possibly have seen this thing. Had his squad confiscated it before? Perhaps it was a new drug on the market that they had been briefed about? Westly knew it had to be more than that. His brain began to throb against his skull as he tried to remember what it was.

*"There was a package of drugs next to his body…" Katsu glanced up every so often at Westly. The other simply staring at the wall of the hospital room. The slow beat of the heart monitored echoed sang volumes, a lullaby in an attempt to ease Westly who was hooked on so many machines he didn't know what connects to what. He didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to swallow that reality, but he knew he had to. The tech analyst gingerly placed the crime scene photo atop of Westly's hospital bed, attentively watching his movements so that the already emotionally battered cop did not do anything drastic.

Westly looked down, only to nearly vomit as he saw the image of the charred hand of his surrogate father presented to him. If he had seen the entirety of the photo, he would probably be heaving in a bucket. Beside the charred remains were the melted remains of a ziplock bag and what seemed to be pale purple pills. Though those too took damage from the fire, Westly could clearly differentiate the color and the basic shape, embedding those notes to memory.

"They seem to be a new drug that's hit the streets, none of the other units have encountered it before. We tried to test it to see if they'd matched Scotty's toxicology. It looks like they could have been something similar to morphine, we aren't 100% sure since there was so much contamination in the sample…" Katsu trod carefully, seeing as how pale Westly had gotten. If he could, he wouldn't have told the other any of this in the first place, but he knew that Westly wouldn't have wanted that. That the other would have ripped the IV out of himself to go down to the lab to find answers.*

Westly gripped the brick walls of the club to keep his legs from giving out on him. This was what Scotty possibly died for. This was one key to the many answers that were locked away that night. Westly wanted to burst into the club, grab the head of the Yamadachi group by the collar and demand where he received these drugs. An unknown drug that police were not familiar with, suddenly resurfacing two years later. Could the Yamadachi's been working with Ouroboros two years ago? Was Scotty getting his supply from the Yamadachi's as well? A wave of nausea washed over him as his thoughts began to run wild. He took deep breaths in an attempt to calm his beating heart that was racing a mile a minute. A flame of frustration and conviction began to brew within him as he collected his thoughts and emotions. If the Yamadachi group was dealing these drugs from their club and Jian was planning to make a deal with them, then there was one thing Westly was certain of. Jian was also aware of the connection between these pills and the case 2 years ago. Westly was going to get answers out of the mob boss, even if he had to handcuff the gangster to him.

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Jian leaned against the glass wall of his veranda. Even in the comfort of his own home, Jian dressed like he was ready to go to work at the drop of a dime, though he would argue that it was 'casual.' He adorned a simple pair of white dress pants with a fitted gray turtleneck to keep him warm from the winter chill night. His usually perfectly quaffed hair was now neat, soft bangs that rested on his forehead, freshly blow-dried after his shower. He took a deep drag of his cigarette as he looked out into the backyard of his childhood home. The plush green grass that encircled the pool of water that mirrored the moonlight above it. The small hedge of trees and shrubbery closing the area off from the outside world. It had become a scene that always soothed his heart. It was a reminder of home. One where Zemin was still alive. A cloud of smoke left his lips as he glimpsed the untouched cigarette resting across the dark blue crystalline ashtray next to him. The gold Rolex that he usually adorned next to it. The time reading on the slightly fractured face forever 1:45 am. The empty cigarette slowly burning beside, the whiffs of smoke floating up to dissipate into the dark night sky.

*"Cough! Cough!" Jian was basically hacking up a lung while Zemin was laughing his tail off, thoroughly amused at the younger's suffering. Jian scrunched his face in dissatisfaction, pounding his fist against his chest to knock the last of the poison before immediately burning out his cigarette in the dark crystalline blue ashtray between him and Zemin. "How could you huff that crap in your lungs?" Jian continuously stuck out his tongue as if the rancid test had embedded itself on his taste buds.

"Told you, you wouldn't like it. It's not something a baby panther-like you would enjoy" Zemin teased, pinching Jian's cheek, only to have the younger grumpily swipe it away.

"I'm not a baby. I'm seventeen." Jian rolled his eyes, resting his chin on his arms as he looked out at the backyard from the veranda of his room. Jian glanced at Zemin, who mindlessly stared out at the backyard with him, a playful smile still on the elder's lips. The leader of Ouroborus still casually adorning a suit, though it was more relaxed and disheveled than when he had originally worn it. The suit was a simply plaid burgundy with a black dress shirt under it, though the buttons of both the jacket and undershirt were popped out for a more leisurely look. His formerly nicely styled side-parted dark bronze hair now in messy disarray.

"Still a baby," Zemin smirked, turning around so that his back was leaning back against the wall, his head thrown back so he could stare at the stars, or lack thereof. The cigarette in his mouth releasing a small trickle of smoke.

"I just don't want to get offed by lung cancer, like someone." Jian pointed out, partially scolding the other for his lack of health.

"Pffft," Zemin let out a small chuckle at Jian's attempt of showing concern. Though this was an improvement from when he first met the younger, cold and emotionless. A wild animal willing to do anything to survive. He could bear with the younger's motherly nagging if it meant that Jian would act more like a boy his age. "With all that nagging, you better outlive me or you're gonna be all talk, baby panther." Zemin let out a playful laugh, once again pinching the cheek of the younger, his gold Rolex glistening under the night sky.*

"You're digging yourself an early grave, young master," Jian was pulled out of his thoughts at the sound of Yuelong opening the glassdoor that connected his bedroom to the veranda. Yuelong came up beside him, leaning back on both his elbows against the glass veranda, careful not to disturb the small set up Jian prepared. "If not bullets, lung cancer." An impish grin spread across his face.

"Look who's talking," Jian scoffed as Yuelong phone began to buzz uncontrollably. "Is that girlfriend number 3 or 4?"

"Neither," Yuelong proudly smirked, glancing down on the screen on his phone before hanging up on the other line to end the incessant buzzing. "It's number 5."

"You're the one who's gonna get shot. Not me." Jian let out a huff of amusement. Though the two of them have matured since they were impulsive teenagers, some things never change. Yuelong was always ever so popular.

"I'm just making things even. I know you would be so lonely in the afterlife without me." Yuelong cheekily smiled. Jian rolled his eyes, but couldn't fully displace the smile that peeked from his lips.

"Do you have everything prepared for tomorrow?" Jian tapped the remnants of ash into the tray.

"Who do you take me for?" Yuelong snorted, clenching his chest in mock offense. "I've been keeping tabs on the Yamdachi's movements, I'll have some men stationed at the dock where the shipment should supposedly arrive. We'll find out which shipping line they are using for their transport. "

"Good. Once that's done, backtrace it and find out their manufacturer."

"And when I find them?" Yuelong raised a brow, wanting to confirm exactly what Jian's intentions were.

"Bring them here in one piece. I need them to at least formulate a list of who they deal with." Yuelong let out a small sigh. It was always a pain bringing back the live ones.

Yuelong made a quick glance at the young master, seeing as how his expression had stiffen. Jian's jaw clenched and the cigarette rigid between his lips. His sharp eyes glaring at nothing as he delved into deep contemplation. Yuelong could guess what the other was thinking. The right-hand man, chewed on his lower lip, trying to decipher how to go about this situation. Did he give Jian a hug? No, Jian would knee him in the gut shortly after. Pat his back and say 'that's rough, buddy?' What words could he say to comfort the other? He was not adept in comfort or empathy. He had grown up where the two people that were supposed to love and care for him, dumped him to the responsibility of someone else. He couldn't fully comprehend how Jian must have felt losing someone so close to him. Yuelong placed a hand on Jian's shoulder, pulling the other out of his thoughts, and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Zemin won't be on that list." Jian's eyes lit up for a moment as if he wanted to respond. There was a moment of hesitation and instead the mob boss chose to divert his eyes, returning to his thoughts. A silence of understanding falling between them.

"JIAN!" That silence was abruptly ended. The muffled yells of Jian's name could be heard echoing throughout the estate. Jian and Yuelong looked at each other, both their brows raised at what the commotion would be at this time of night. Their confusion soon answered when one of the henchmen, opened the glass door to the veranda, nervously looking between Jian and Yuelong. He couldn't even make eye contact with the current leader of Oroborus, choosing to quickly pass on his news to Yuelong as well as an Ipad.

Yuelong lips slowly lifted into an amused smirk, Jian's brows furrowed together to decipher what that could entail. It was never a good sign when Yuelong was amused. The other's choice of amusement was often Jian's suffering. Yuelong swiped through the Ipad, switching to the intended camera to get a peek of their uninvited visitor. As soon as he got to the intended camera, Yuelong immediately began squatting on the ground and trembled in laughter. Jian's eyes wide and utterly confused at such a reaction. Yuelong was trying to contain his laughter so much that he couldn't even respond with words, only heaves of escaped chuckles. The right-hand man's only response to his boss's confusion was to hand the Ipad over to Jian.

Jian reactively inhaled a vast amount of cigarette smoke at the sight of the camera footage, consequently leading him to start hacking up a lung. On the screen was a familiar rabid dog, waving his hands around at one of the security cameras. Unfortunately, that wasn't necessarily a shocker for him. It was the outfit the officer was wearing. He had already seen it at the club several nights ago, but now with the added accouterments, Jian was conflicted whether to laugh at the officer or question the officer's sanity. At the moment, a mixture of both was bubbling in his stomach.

"Yah! Wang Jian! I know you can see me! Let me in or I will climb this fence!" Westly pointed at the gated walls that separated the policeman from Jian's estate. The mob boss closed his eyes shut for a moment, massaging the bridge of his nose as he felt the throbbing of a headache forming. Jian would have to concede that any involvement with the officer was never boring. Jian gestured to Yuelong, who was still keeling over on the floor with laughter, to come collect the yapping pup, knowing that if he didn't the other would no doubt fulfill his threat.

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"I'm starting to think this is more of a fetish than an actual undercover job, Detective Le?" Jian raised a brow at the officer standing across his modern black glossy desk. Jian had thought the officer's undercover outfit couldn't get any better, but it surely did. Jian had to bury down the bubbling laughter that brewed due to stark contrast between his modern monochromatic bedroom to the sparkly, fluffy angry Shiba Inu that was staring in front of him. Yuelong let out a snort from the far corner of the room, closest to the bedroom door.

"I-I was working!" Westly barked. His cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears were a bright strawberry red as he yanked the Shiba dog ears off his head and threw them to the ground. "Stupid pervert club…" Westly grumbled under his breath.

"Careful not to aggravate him, young master. I can see the hairs on his tail stand up." Yuelong snickered, only to earn him a sharp glare from the officer. Jian couldn't help but let out a snort of laughter, seeing as that he could practically see the officer's tail stand up on ends even if the tail wasn't real.

"So why have you come to harass me in the middle of the night?" Jian cleared his throat, redirecting himself back into his serious demeanor. "If it weren't for my curiosity, I would have called your friends down at the precinct to pick you up. That or called the pound."

"You-" Westly pointed at Jian with his lip jutted out in annoyance, but held himself back to focus on the reason why it was here. And it wasn't to argue with Jian. Not like that has ever stopped them. Westly took a deep breath and mumbled under his breath to not bite the gangster out of anger. "I'm here cause you and I need to have a discussion about this." Westly slammed the small ziplock bag containing the drugs on Jian's desk.

Jian glanced down, holding his composure seeing as Westly had confronted him with the drug that was on his brother's body the night of the incident. "And what is there to discuss? Do you want me to advise you on your vitamin regiment?" Jian calmly slid the ziplock bag away from himself and towards Westly.

"Uhhhhg! Can't you just answer my question just once instead of sassing me!?" Westly threw his hands in the air from frustration, before running his hand down his face. "Look, you know and I know that this was found at the crime scene two years ago. So it isn't a coincidence that you suddenly arrive to make a deal with a club that distributes them."

"Is there a question somewhere for me to answer or are you simply going to continue blabbering?"

"I swear this man is going to give me an aneurysm and I'll make sure to haunt his freakin ass till the day he dies," Westly mumbled to himself as he massaged his temples relieve the vexation that bubbled within him. Westly took another calming breath, grabbing the ziplock bag and shoved it right into Jian's face. "What are you trying to accomplish buying the drugs that perhaps led to your brother's death?" Westly stared straight into Jian's eyes, unabashed or faltered. He was not going to let the other simply pass on with snarky remarks or wordplay.

Jian frowned, equally vexed at how the officer seemed to courageously, but also stupidly, step onto landmines. It was as if the other didn't care that with just a snap of his fingers, Jian could make Westly disappear. The mob boss stood up from his desk chair, his eyes trailing to the blue crystalline ashtray he and his brother used to share as well as the fractured gold Rolex. A tinge of sorrow flashed through his eyes before he nodded to Yuelong to leave the room. The right-hand man hesitated, but seeing as how Jian was not fuming at the mention of Zemin, he assumed that puppy was not going to be eaten alive.

"What I'm trying to accomplish, Detective Le, is a simple business deal. You're overstepping your boundaries, accusing me of purchasing drugs." Jian stated plainly.

"Wang Jian, do you think I'm an idiot? Don't answer that," Jian closed his mouth, seeing as the other knew what his answer was going to be. "You've been obsessed with this case as much as I have. The fact that the Yamadachi's have a link to what possibly happened last night and you suddenly showing interest in the drug trade again can't be a coincidence. You're trying to figure out exactly what down between Detective Carter and Zemin that night, just like me. No matter how much you hate it, the two of us are in the same boat."

"The same boat?" Jian scoffed, walking around his desk so that he was on the same side as Westly. "We are distances apart," Jian stood in front of the detective, appearing to tower the other though their height wasn't too drastically different. "Let me ask you if it weren't for the fact that a cop was dead at the scene, would the police even put half as much effort as they did?" Jian mocked at the stark contrast. When had the police every cared for people like him and his brother? To them, they were simply scum of the earth. If they died, no one would give a damn. It would be one less piece of trash on the street. Their lives set stone before they even began.

"It didn't matter who died," Westly stood firm in his stance, not budging no matter how intimidating Jian was trying to be. "Whether it's a drug lord, a cop, a civilian. All I know is that two people died and I can't make sense as to how the hell it could have happened. I was there and yet…" Westly clenched his fist, digging his nails into his palms. Once again, feeling helpless and angry that the answers were right in front of him, yet because of himself, he could not get to them. "Going back to the life of the underworld isn't going to prove your brother's innocence."

"I don't need to prove that my brother is innocent," Jian's cold voice could penetrate steel. His calm facade on the verge of crumbling down in front of Westly. It was always in front of him. The officer always found a way to somehow chip away at the wall he had forged and it angered him. The officer was trying to let out a vulnerable and emotional side that Jian simply wanted to kill. "Unlike you, I don't have some high and mighty ideal of proving his innocence. I simply want payback."

"You know that's not true." Jian could say all he wanted about going through this whole debacle just for revenge, but Westly knew that for the two of them, the end goal was the same. Why? Why was Detective Carter and Zemin together in an abandoned warehouse that night? Why did Zemin have the same pastel purple drugs that Detective Carter supposedly took? Why did the most important people in Jian's and Westly's life just suddenly vanish?

Jian ran his fingers through his hair and aggravatedly licked his lips. "Detective Le, I feel that you are becoming delusional. What makes you think that you know anything about me? Just because I happened to save you on a whim 2 years ago? Or is it because you have been practically stalking me?"

"I understand you because we both lost something that night."

"Lost something? You don't get it do you?" Jian sneered. The more calm and reasonable Westly sounded, the more Jian began losing hold of his composed self. "You lost something. I lost my entire world. The only family that I have ever had!"

"You're not the only one!" Westly barked back. "Detective Carter was…." The words seemed to be stuck in Westly's throat, unable to admit that the man that he had lost was basically his father. His protector. His best friend.

Jian stared at Westly, slightly dumbfounded at the overbearing silence that trailed after Westly's words, especially since the other had a penchant for continuously barking. The detective's eyes now staring at the white carpeted floor, his hands were balled into fists, and his brows furrowed in a mixture of pain and loss. Jian looked away as well, unable to focus on the sight of the detective being so emotionally vulnerable. True the two had their spats, yelling with threats was not something that was uncommon. The silence. That spoke more than anything the two had said between each other.

Westly glanced up to see Jian refusing to meet his eyes. A flash of empathy on the usually stoic gangster's face. He had only really seen Jian when he was either angry or completely uninterested. Seeing him now in a state of confusion, loss at what to say next or what to do, it was something novel for the detective. The two of them were still mere inches apart, still so close that he could feel Jian's soft breathes against his skin. They simply stood there fidgeting, or at least Westly was. Jian stood rigid like an Easter Island statue.

"I'm using this negotiation as a means to seize information," Jian finally broke the silence, he let his shoulders drop and his body release the tension it held in. "I don't plan to do anything illegal with the drugs. Will that suffice?" Jian closed his eyes for a moment, resting his forehead in the palm of his head.

"... Buying drugs itself is illegal…" Westly pointed out. "But since I don't have any physical evidence that you're actually going to follow through with your words, this will suffice. If I ask more at this point, you might actually bite my head off…" Westly let out an awkward chuckle. Jian had conceded. Even if it was just a smidge, he had conceded. That made Westly feel...uncomfortable? He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but seeing mob boss being compliant was so out of place that the officer contemplated recording this moment.

"That's the first smart thing I've heard come from your mouth." Jian mouth twitched to a half-smirk.

"And the asshole returns…" Westly murmured to himself, rolling his eyes.

"The second smartest thing you can do is keep your nose out of this. I will take care of the Yamadachi's myself." Jian casually placed his hands in his pockets.

"You know I can't do that."

"Well, I never did expect you to do smart things." Jian smirked.

"Yah!" Westly huffed, hands on his hips. "I do smart things like…" Jian quirked a brow as Westly's eyes frantically moved about to develop an answer. "I can't think of any right now, but I have done them." Westly frowned at his own lame comeback and scratched the back of his head.

Jian's eyes honed onto the dark purplish marks on the other's wrist, quickly swiping Westly's wrist to exam the finger-shaped bruises that hid under the sleeve of his jacket. His expression softened a bit as he gently traced the bruises with his thumb, knowing the origins of those bruises. Though almost fully healed, the remnants of Jian's actions at the club still remained. Without Jian's awareness, his eyebrows knitted together in irritation and for once it was not at Westly, but at himself. The fact that he was the one that placed the bruises on the other vexed him. Westly flinched, astonished at the sudden movement. The sudden gentleness from the other. The officer yanked his hand out of the mob boss's grasp. Uncomfortable with the strange chill that ran through him at the usually gruff boss's tender touch.

"No need to suddenly be so caring," Westly awkwardly laugh and gently rubbed his wrist with his other hand. "It's just a bruise. It was like getting swatted by a grumpy cat." Westly shrugged, hoping the subject would drop. Jian ignored the others stammering, stalking over to behind his desk and opening a drawer. "Seriously, you suddenly acting nice to me. The world must be endi-sdjhfiourhgjh!" Westly fumbled with the tube of ointment that was thrown at him. He analyzed the tube in his hand, the white and sky blue packaging of Arnica dented from numerous times of use. Westly looked from the bottle to Jian, who chose sift through his work files at the moment. "Thank you?"

"My men will drive you home." Jian completely ignored the other's words of gratitude and flipped through business proposals for land development within Oroborus territory.

"I'm not some civilian. I can walk home myself." Westly scoffed, carefully putting the ointment in his coat pocket.

"Dressed like that, people would think I assaulted you." A smug smirk on Jian's face as he looked up at Westly for just a moment.

"Assault who?" Westly scoffed. "Like I would even let you." Jian let out a snort, mocking the other as if saying that 'why would I even try to assault you.' Westly felt conflicted. He felt that he should be both offended and relieved. Before Westly could even bite back at Jian's teasing, the rumbling of a phone echoed through the mob boss's orderly room.

A soft, gentle smile was painted across Jian's lips when he saw the name on the caller ID. The usual harsh, abrupt speech dissipated into a tender, warm voice when he answered the phone. Westly had never thought in his entire life that Jian could make such an expression. He honestly thought the man was stone-faced the day he was born. If Westly weren't so stunned by the sudden change in tone of the other, his jaw would have fallen to the floor. Was that a smile on the rock face man he saw? He could barely discern the voice on the other line, only deducing that it was a woman that Jian was speaking to. A sudden bubble of annoyance brew in his stomach. His brows furrowed together at the reaction. Why would he be annoyed that Jian was talking to a woman so nicely? It wasn't his business who the stupid mob boss chose to show that nasty googoogaga expression to. Jian could be nice to whoever the hell he wants, for all Westly cared.

"Ahem, time to take you back home, pup." Yuelong cleared his throat, a clearly amused smirk on his lips at the sight of the pouting pupper. He was sure that the officer was unaware of the expression he was making.

"I can walk myself home." Westly huffed, stomping towards the exit of Jian's bedroom. Yuelong cocked a raised brow at Jian, waiting for the young master's orders.

"One moment, Emmy," Jian placed his hand on the mic of the phone. "Carry him like a rice bag and shove him into the car if you have to." Jian ordered.

"Don't worry, young master, I'll escort your princess properly." Yuelong snickered, only earning a glare from Jian before he returned to his phone call.