Author's Note: For some reason, I always start off long stories with short chapters in the beginning. Look at the progress of this one, for instance, the first chapter was barely a page long and then slowly the chapters grew to being over ten pages each, thus consuming quite a bit of my time, though it was worth it in the end, ne? ^_^

[Written off and on between Oct. 6th-24th of 2002]
[Last edited May 1st of 2004]

Disclaimer: Matoh Sanami holds all rights to FAKE; I just being a lowly fan keep my respectable sanity and distance, burning money and striving to create something that holds a candle to the original.
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"Three Little Words"
Chapter Two: Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones

The pair of men observed the proceedings for some time before taking action. One couldn�t rush into these types of things without making sure appearances weren�t being deceiving, as they often were. As Dee leaned forward, a hand gripped his forearm, fingers convulsing tightly. �Wait just a few more minutes��

The raven-haired detective merely nodded, hand falling away from the car handle. He growled softly, jerking his arm away from Ryo�s grip. �How long then? She�s already given the man his money.�

�Not until he actually lays the product in her hands. Nothing like being caught in the act,� Ryo explained quietly as he watched his partner light a cigarette in the darkness. As smoke filled the air, Dee stabbed a finger towards the couple. �They�re talking an awful lot, aren�t they?�

Impatiently, Dee tapped his cigarette against the side of the ashtray. His eyes remained glued to the proceedings, though his mind screamed for the pair to make some kind of move. If he had to stay still for another five minutes, he was going to go berserk. Patience had never been his strong suit.

The small woman reached out and brushed a strand of hair back from the drug dealer�s forehead, a look of adoration on her face. The hooded man did nothing in response.

�Apparently business and pleasure go hand in hand,� Ryo commented, crossing his arms over his chest. Dee was showing shows of impatience, which was no surprise considering how long they�d spent in the car. Another column of smoke trailed upwards in the air, dissipating after a few moments of lingering. His partner chuckled, toying with the blue plastic lighter in his hands. �Makes me wonder if I picked the right career��

As if on a silent command, both men exited the car upon seeing a plastic bag exchanged between the couple, filled with very familiar white powder. As the pair walked towards the shadows, Ryo caught Dee's gaze, motioning towards the alley just a few feet away from the street lamp. The man nodded, squeezing the Japanese-American's shoulder briefly then started on his way, to provide backup in case things went bad.

Dee cursed underneath his breath as he walked towards the alley wishing he hadn't snubbed his cigarette before he left the car. Ever since he and Ryo had had that little make-out session, his body had been desperately trying to calm down, and if chain-smoking was the answer, Dee was all for it. Damn the man and his hormones for finally choosing to response to his advances. Why now of all times?

His thoughts trailed off as he watched Ryo approach the street lamp, gun held carefully behind his leg. Dee positioned himself against the wall of the alley, ready for action, should he be needed.

Drawing his own weapon, Dee extended his arm and sighted on one of the moving figures in the darkness. He squeezed the trigger a moment later, and growled softly to himself as he missed the man's leg by mere inches. The detective dropped to his knees as a spike of white-hot agony stuck his chest, and he barely had drawn in a breath when a body slammed into him, driving him into the brick wall roughly.

Groaning loudly, Dee panted, trying to breathe past the pain that seemed to radiate from his very being. The remainder of the dealer's back-ups had managed to sneak past while Dee had been incapacitated. Meaning Ryo not only had to deal with the woman, and the drug dealer but also an armed man. The man standing above him laughed, driving a foot into the detective's unprotected stomach. The lackey was well over 200 pounds, and by his show of strength, he was all brawn and no brains.

This point was proven correct when Dee kicked wildly at the man's legs, aiming a particularly well-placed kick at the top of his right kneecap. Immediately, the lackey fell to the ground in a fetal position, clutching his dislocated knee. He howled in pain, cursing the detective between gasps. Satisfied he wouldn't be moving any time soon, Dee made his way towards his partner's location.

His gun was clutched tightly as he rounded the alley corner. His eyes took in the scene presented to him. The drug dealer and the other man were nowhere to be found. Ryo had his back to Dee, and was surveying the darkness outside of the street lamp closely. He did not appear to be injured, and part of Dee was glad for this: the other part was thoroughly annoyed he always ended up wounded.

Within a moment he was moving. The small woman who had been purchasing drugs was hunched over, arms tucked tightly against her head. Quiet sobbing could be heard as Dee walked closer, and he kneeled next to her. Brushing a hand through her hair, Dee watched as she sat up, brown eyes regarding the detective curiously. "Sorry, honey, but you have to be taken in. Wrong place at the wrong time."

Just when he had stood, Dee grunted, his vision a bit misty at the edges. Right, he'd been shot; how hard could it have been to forget that? Steps neared, and he looked up, eyes narrowing as he noted the arrival of backup. Too little, too late, Dee thought to himself as he began walking, putting an arm over his stomach. As the paramedics led him to the back of their truck, the man wished he hadn't left his pack of cigarettes in the car.
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Two hours later, the woman, Samantha Adams, had been booked and processed along with the hired back up, Stacer Morgan. As their coworkers were questioning the couple, a certain raven-haired detective hissed as cold fingers prodded the bullet wound on his chest. Dee was sitting in the commissioner's office, bare-chested while Ryo kneeled in front of him, dressing the injury as gently as possible. The paramedics had managed to retrieve the bullet but hadn't bandaged the wound because the man was still bleeding heavily.

His partner heaved a sigh, throwing the fistful of gauze he�d used into the trashcan nearby. Ryo then stood, brows narrowed in concern. "You're lucky the bullet went right through and didn't piece any vital organs.�

Dee grumbled underneath his breath before saying anything remotely coherent. "Yeah, yeah. Lucky me. Can I have a cigarette already?" He was tired, wounded and just wanted to crawl back to his apartment to sleep the events of the night off.

"For the last time: no. You're smoking quite enough already. Are you striving to be a chain smoker?" Dee's annoyed stare shifted into a glare. Though he loved the man in front of him, he was about to ring the man�s neck. "Ryo, shut the fuck up. I need the nicotine. I don't berate you for being a neat freak, so lay off my smoking, will ya?"

"I must say you're in a foul mood tonight for doing such a good job handling the assignment," Berkeley Rose commented as he entered the office. A tanned hand pushed glasses farther up his nose, and regarded Dee in cold silence. The fact that the commissioner's eyes flicked over to Ryo every few seconds didn't escape Dee's notice as he stood angrily, breath hitching as he felt the ache of the bruises that covered his back. "Yeah, well, getting shot up tends to be a damper on my mood. But I'm SO glad my performance pleased you," He said venomously, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Now if you don't mind, I'm getting the hell out of here." Dee pulled on his shirt and jacket, wincing slightly as he took a few experimental steps to the door. He had a feeling things were only going to worse as his body tried to recover over the next few days. Underneath his breath, he mumbled all the tasks he had ahead of him for the remainder of the night. "Cigarette, lots of aspirin, warm covers..."

Ryo watched as his partner wandered out the door. "I don't think he's up to driving, McLane. Unless you want him to get into an accident?" A smooth-toned voice informed then lips quirked as the Japanese-American looked up in surprise. The man quickly collected the first aid supplies, and exited the room expressing his and Dee�s thanks quietly.

Dee snarled at the hand that tugged at his shoulder before looking over to its owner. The curse in his throat died when faced with those concerned filled eyes set in a pale familiar face. Shrugging off the hand, Dee cleared his throat. "Let me guess. You'd rather I didn't see if my driving skills were up to par tonight, right?�

The man sniffed dramatically; a little stung by Ryo's words then he smirked, laying an arm across his partner�s shoulders, drawing Ryo close to him, until he could directly into one ear. "You sure this isn't just a ploy to finish what we started earlier in the car?�

A moment later, Dee groaned in pain as he rubbed his head. �Shit, Ryo, you didn�t have to hit me that hard! I�m a wounded man, you know.�

To Be Continued�
On to Chapter Three?

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