Nolan and Sam take a narcissist to trial, Boden starts to dig, Jason starts to deflect, Greg searches for aspirin, and Wendy earns her title of "good friend." Featuring three dumbasses, one homicide detective who's feeling like sprouting wisdom, and one very confused prosecutor who has no idea what her boss's relationship with his friend is supposed to be.

Frank's bio is at the end! Enjoy!

***

"People ask for remand, Your Honor," Sam requested at Nina's arraignment.

"Defense requests bail be set at five million cash," Amanda Stanley said as Nina was brought to her side. From his seat behind Sam, Nolan watched Nina stare around the courtroom with an air of indifference before she straightened and directed her attention to the judge. "Ms. Ellis also agrees to wear an ankle-monitor and agrees to surrender her passport. Your Honor, my client runs one of the most important healthcare companies in the world. She's absolutely vital to this entity's existence. Without her, business will suffer. Hundreds of employees will lose their jobs – "

"Save the speech, Ms. Stanley," the judge shook his head. "Bail is set at five million dollars."

Sam nodded and packed up her belongings, and Nolan rose to his feet to join her in walking out of the courthouse. "Where do you want me to start?" Sam asked.

Nolan opened his mouth to answer, then a furious voice behind them made them stop. "She gets to walk out on bail?" Kyle Morrison's father demanded. "Nina Ellis needs to pay for what she did to my son, suffer the way Kyle suffered!"

Nolan sighed, carefully thinking through his words. While maneuvering through the political arena that was the District Attorney's office was usually more of a headache than a pain in the neck, this was one of the worst parts of being a homicide prosecutor: trying to find a balance between being the prosecutor and comforting victims' families. "Mr. Morrison, I'm very sorry for your loss," he said. "I give you my word we will do our best – "

"Your best?" Morrison scoffed. "That's not good enough, pal. Nina is evil. She has no morals, no soul. She'll do anything to win. Anything. This is about making her pay for what she did to my son."

Morrison left just as Nina left the courthouse, and reporters swarmed the businesswoman at once. "Ms. Ellis! Did you kill Kyle Morrison?" one asked.

"Is the IPO still going forward?" another reporter added.

"Of course, I didn't kill Kyle," Nina answered. "He was the love of my life. And yes, the IPO is moving forward. Hythena is the premier medical-testing company in the world. Every day, we're trying to find new ways to save lives. This trial is not gonna stand in our way. I couldn't be more excited to share my truth. This is an important moment, not only for me, but for every other unapologetically ambitious female entrepreneur who refuses to conform to archaic gender stereotypes and societal pressures."

Nina walked away, escorted by police, and Sam made a face as the reporters followed her, all shouting more questions. "Kyle's father was right," Nolan sighed, pulling out his phone when it chimed. "This won't be easy."

Hearts: Unapologetically ambitious

Hearts: More like narcissistic

Diamonds: I've Barba and Stone prosecute people like this before

Diamonds: Not sure if it was ever a woman though

Clubs: I really want in the courtroom with your brother one day

Hearts: No kidding

Nolan smothered a smile because of the cameras still lingering, but he did answer the chat as he walked down the steps with Sam.

Spades: I guess that just means you'll have to come back to New York some day

Diamonds: Oh he's good

Hearts: Duh

Hearts: He's my brother

Spades: Are you all seriously going to follow this case?

Clubs: Well

Clubs: Cosgrove said it better be worth talking about other than aliens

Clubs: We gotta hold him to that

Diamonds: To be fair

Diamonds: Whatever's happening in the home city is probably the more interesting thing

Clubs: Why did you bring logic into this conversation

Hearts: And this is why you're clubs and TK is diamonds

Spades: At least I'm not a dog

Clubs: Hey now

Clubs: That's our chat

Clubs: We've had it since the train derailment

Clubs: OGs only

Clubs: No outsiders allowed

Diamonds: And I'm a cat thank you very much

Clubs: A grumpy cat

Diamonds: Sums up me right now tbh

Hearts: This is also why Nolan and I are Dumbasses

Hearts: You two are ridiculous

Clubs: We know we are

Clubs: What are you

Diamonds: And she just threw her phone across the room

Clubs: Score!

***

"The defendant killed Kyle Morrison because he was gonna reveal the truth that the screening tests didn't work," Nolan told Judge Miller when he and Stanley gathered in her chambers. "As such, we'd like to present evidence to support that theory, witnesses who are on the wrong end of these fallacious tests."

"These witnesses are not even remotely connected to the murder case," Stanley huffed. "They will only serve to distract and confuse the jury."

"The flawed tests are the reason Nina Ellis committed murder," Nolan argued.

"All medical tests have flaws, Mr. Price knows this!" Stanley huffed. "He just wants to paint my client as a bloodless CEO who doesn't care about the wellbeing of her customers."

Nolan held back a snort. "That is exactly what I'm trying to do because that's exactly who she is!"

"One, that is out of line and untrue," Stanley snapped. "Two, extrinsic evidence of prior bad acts is inadmissible under the Molineaux doctrine. And three, it paints an unfair and inaccurate picture of the facts. You can't just talk about the customers with adverse consequences. What about the ones with beneficial consequences who got accurate results, who credit the company for saving their lives? Nina Ellis is on trial for murder, not faulty screening tests."

"I agree," Miller nodded. "There will be no witnesses talking about bad test results. Understand me, Mr. Price?"

Nolan sighed and nodded in agreement.

***

"That's ridiculous!" Sam exclaimed as she followed Nolan through the courthouse. "Bad test results are the reason Kyle is dead!"

"Nothing we can do," Nolan shrugged. "So let's turn our attention to picking the best jury possible. We need people who aren't susceptible to manipulation. So . . . women better than men, less educated better than more educated, poor better than rich."

"You sure about that?" Sam asked with a frown.

"Confirmation bias," Nolan nodded as he pressed the button to call the elevator. "Wealthy, educated people tend to believe other wealthy, educated people. We need skeptics. People who can't wait to call out a rich white woman for being greedy and deceitful."

Sam smirked and nodded in agreement.

***

"On a cool night in March, the defendant shot and killed her fiancé and co-worker, Kyle Morrison, to perpetuate the fraud that she is a tech visionary, that her company is a cutting-edge leader in the healthcare industry," Nolan spoke in front of the jury. "In simplest terms, the defendant killed Kyle Morrison because he was gonna derail the company's IPO, a transaction in which the defendant stood to make over two billion dollars. The only person standing in the way of the defendant's greatness was Kyle Morrison. He was a decent and honest man. He knew the company's screening tests didn't work. They didn't detect the cancers they claimed to detect. So he told the defendant they needed to delay the IPO and pull their products from the market. She refused. He insisted. So she killed him."

He paused for a moment to let the words sink in. "I know that sounds implausible. But, you see, the defendant doesn't think or act like the rest of us. She believes that she's special, that the rules of society, they don't apply to her. That the end always justifies the means. That killing your fiancé? It's just another cost of doing business. Make no mistake. The poised and successful woman you see at the defense table?" He turned and gestured to Nina, who sat stiffly in her seat with no expression on her face. "Is a cold-blooded killer," he finished. "As cold-blooded as they come."

***

When Sam walked into Nolan's office, she found him placing take-out containers on the table, their paper plates and utensils already at the chairs. She placed her materials down and examined one of the containers curiously. "What's . . . Jing Reed?" she asked.

"Better not to ask," Nolan answered as he finished emptying the paper bag.

"What's that mean?" Sam frowned, picking up the container for a better look.

"Means it's really good, but it's better not to know what you're actually eating." He waited and watched Sam crack open the lid before telling her. "Sautéed crickets."

Sam balked and stared at him in horror. "Seriously?" Nolan beamed innocently at her, and Sam quickly replaced the lid and set the container down. "I see it," she muttered. "I have seen that exact look on Sylvie's face."

"That would be something called genetics, Sam," Nolan grinned cheekily as he swooped down and took one of the take-out containers.

Sam scoffed fondly. "You're horrible."

"Sylvie, Casey, and Severide beg to differ," Nolan shrugged as he dropped into one of the chairs. "Now, the case." Sam nodded in agreement and looked around to pick her own lunch, pausing for a moment to look at her phone when it chimed. "Biggest hurdle we face is making it clear Kyle wasn't actually mugged, that it wasn't a random act of violence. The only person who could have killed him was, in fact, Nina Ellis." He picked up his food, then he saw Sam staring at her phone. "What is it?" he asked.

"Don't think we need to worry about proving Nina actually killed Kyle," Sam mumbled.

Nolan narrowed his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

Sam sighed and dropped her phone onto the table. "She just changed her defense."

***

Jack's voice couldn't be any drier as he stared at Nolan and Sam. "Nina Ellis is going for a battered woman defense?"

Nolan nodded in confirmation. "She's claiming that Kyle physically, mentally, and sexually abused her on a regular basis, and that the only way out of this relationship was to kill him."

His tone showed how ridiculous he believed the notion was, and Jack looked between the pair. "Is there any evidence to support this?"

"No, nothing," Nolan shook his head.

"Not that we're aware of, anyway," Sam amended.

"No police reports, no emails, no texts," Nolan listed.

"So she's just gonna get on the stand and lie?" Jack asked.

Nolan nodded. "She's really good at it, too."

Jack hummed thoughtfully as he moved to gather his belongings. "'No man has a good enough memory to be a successful liar,'" he quoted.

Nolan frowned, thinking and trying to remember who said that. "Abraham Lincoln?"

"Yeah," Jack nodded and pulled on his coat. "Well, things have changed since he was around. Honesty isn't exactly in vogue anymore. People lie. Even worse, people have gotten used to it. It's become an accepted part of our society . . . which is why it's so dangerous." He turned to the prosecutors with narrowed eyes. "Let Nina tell her story, then pick her apart. Expose the lies. Let this jury see who this woman really is."

***

"We were together, on and off, for about five years," Nina said as she sat on the witness stand. "And this past year, things got serious. We fell in love. Got engaged."

"You were in love with Kyle?" Stanley asked.

"Yes," Nina nodded. "But it was . . . complicated."

"What do you mean?"

"Kyle was brilliant, charming," Nina answered. "He was also abusive."

"Abusive?" Stanley echoed. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that he . . . at times, he would get physical with me," Nina replied. "Grab me. Hurt me, threaten me."

"Can you be more specific?" Stanley asked. "Can you give us a recent example?"

"Yes," Nina took a deep breath. "A few weeks before I shot Kyle, we got into an argument. He thought I was flirting with an investor, a very wealthy investor. He called me a whore, a slut."

Nolan grimaced at the words, and he noticed Sam's worried glance as his fingers tightened around the pen he held. He was glad Peter Stone remained SVU's prosecutor and he prosecuted high-level homicides. If he had to hear that word constantly, he was sure he would slowly lose his mind after hearing it used once to describe his sister. "What happened next?" Stanley asked. "After he called you these horrible names?"

Nina's perfect mask of composure slipped, and her voice trembled. "He grabbed me. He slapped me." She sobbed, and Nolan leaned back in his seat, knowing this was the perfect act. "Then he tied both my hands to the bed post, and he raped me."

"You did not consent to this?"

"No!" Nina gasped. "No, I begged him to stop. I said that I wanted to leave, but he just laughed, and he said that he would never allow me to leave. He told me that if I ever split up with him or dated anyone else, that he would kill me!"

"He used those exact words?" Stanley asked.

"Yes!"

"Did you believe him?"

Nina's shoulders slumped. "Yes," she whispered. "When Kyle was upset or when something triggered him, it's like he became a different person."

Stanley nodded somberly. "This horrifying incident that you just related . . . was this the only time that he hit you? Raped you? Threatened you?"

"No," Nina shook her head. "It happened regularly."

"Why did you shoot Kyle Morrison?"

Nina shrugged tearfully. "Because I was afraid he was gonna kill me."

***

Sam sighed as she and Nolan headed to their offices. "Hate to say it, but – "

"Oh, I know," Nolan nodded. "A few of the jurors bought her story."

"Juror 7 and Juror 9, to be exact," Sam confirmed.

"We'll make up ground on cross," Nolan told her. "I'll pick apart each and every assertion of abuse. Hopefully, the jury will realize she's lying."

Sam frowned. "What do you mean, 'pick apart each and every assertion of abuse'?" she asked slowly.

Nolan sighed as he closed his office door. "I know this is a delicate subject, but come on, Sam. We both know she's lying her ass off."

"Do we?" Sam asked sharply. "I mean, we know she's lying about her company, about her screening tests being accurate, but that doesn't mean she's lying about this."

"She never told anyone Kyle was abusive," Nolan listed. "She never sent a text. She never made a phone call. She never called 9-1-1, or filed a police report – "

"Lots of victims don't report abuse," Sam interrupted. "Just the way it is."

"But most victims aren't pathological liars on trial for murder."

Sam pursed her lips. "I get it," she told him. "But . . . "

"But what?"

"Times have changed," she told him. "The MeToo movement changed the way people think about abuse . . . for the better, meaning we need to change the way we think about it, too."

"You're worried about us undermining the movement?" Nolan's eyebrows raised.

"Women have been speaking up about abuse for years, but nobody believed them or cared," Sam said. "Now they do, finally. If we start attacking Nina's claims, it's like we're ignoring all the progress that's been made."

Nolan took a deep breath. "I agree with everything you just said," he said quietly. "But our job isn't to cater to movements. It's to follow the law and get justice for victims, irrespective of the political consequences."

"So what are you saying?"

"We can't risk a not guilty verdict because it might negatively impact the MeToo movement."

"It's not just that, Nolan," Sam shook her head. "We didn't screen for domestic abuse, remember? We screened for street smart, people skeptical of power, wealth."

Sam's words finally connected and made a picture, one that Nolan didn't like. "What do you remember about the jury questionnaires?" he asked quietly as he sat at the table.

"Jurors 7 and 9 reported they were victims of domestic abuse," Sam answered as she flipped through the papers. "And Juror number 4 said her sister's husband was prone to violence." Nolan rubbed his temples, and Sam nodded as she sat on the arm of his sofa. "MeToo or no MeToo, we're behind the 8 ball," she told him.

***

"Truck 81. Squad 3. Ambulance 61. Person trapped."

***

"Oh, boy," Mouch whistled lowly as he pulled Truck 81 up to the call. "Construction site."

"This could be bad," Greg agreed. "Hey, Gallo?"

"Yeah, Lieutenant?" Gallo twisted in his seat to peer over his shoulder.

"I'm gonna need Mouch on the aerial for this. You're quick, and you've got good eyes. When we're out there, I want you helping to clear the debris and watch the scaffold. Anything falls, you're the one who's gonna save our asses by telling us it's coming down. You got it?"

Gallo grinned. "Copy that."

Greg nodded and dropped out of the rig as Mouch parked. Tony parked his rig behind them, and Jason joined Greg in walking up to a frantically waving woman. "I saw the whole thing!" she told them.

"Was anybody working up there?" Greg asked.

"No," the woman shook her head. "But there was a lady walking right there when it all came down."

"OK, stand back," Greg gestured. "Jason?"

Jason crouched down and peered through the collapsed debris, and he pointed when he saw a bloody hand sticking out. "Yep, I see her."

The scaffold groaned above them, and Gallo balked. "Watch out!"

Greg hastily grabbed his friend and yanked him away just as more boards collapsed onto the pile. "Thanks, Gallo!"

Gallo gave a thumbs up, and Jason frowned as he assessed the scene. "OK," he nodded. "Capp, Tony, grab a rope bag and head up to the third floor."

"Mouch, position the aerial just above that collapsing section," Greg pointed. "We're gonna secure it to the façade."

"Copy," Mouch nodded and ran for the rig.

"You're with me in case Jason and Cruz need anything," Greg told Gallo.

Gallo smiled. "You got it."

Jason watched Mouch adjust the aerial, then he crouched down to try and find the woman in the debris. "Ma'am, can you hear me?" he asked. "We're gonna get you out of there."

"Please hurry!" she gasped. "I'm pregnant!"

Cruz looked at Jason in alarm. "OK," Jason nodded, pressing his lips together and looking up the façade. "Just . . . just hang in there." Mouch climbed the ladder as Tony and Capp poked their heads out of the windows. Ropes flew to and fro, then Capp gave a thumbs up. "Alright," Jason backed away. "Go, Cruz!"

Cruz ducked under the debris, and the dark-haired woman sobbed in relief when she saw him. "Oh, thank God!"

"Hey there," Cruz smiled as he wriggled to join her. "I'm Joe. What's your name?"

"Stacy," she answered.

"Stacy? Oh, well, how far along are you?"

"Seven. Seven months."

"You're almost there, huh?" Cruz grinned as he fastened the C-collar around her neck. "First one?" Stacy nodded weakly, and Cruz laughed. "You're gonna love it. I got a baby boy at home. It is the best."

"Good to go!" Capp shouted.

"Gallo," Greg pointed.

Gallo started the saw in his hands, and Cruz turned to Stacy. "OK, it's gonna get a little loud for a bit, but we're gonna get you outta here real quick, OK?"

"You guys might wanna step back just a bit," Gallo warned.

Violet and Gianna backed up, and an annoyed voice behind Violet said, "Hey, you're blocking my view. Can't you move?"

Violet whipped around and scowled when she saw the man with his phone out and aimed at the wreck. "No, I can't move," she snapped, making Gianna look at her in surprise. "We're trying to save this woman's life. What is wrong with you? Act like a human!"

The other bystanders applauded pointedly, making the man look around in shock. Greg smothered a grin and turned to Jason. "And now we know why Brett wanted her for the PIC."

Jason snorted in agreement, then Gallo backed away from the cut scaffold. "OK," Cruz backed out a little. "Let's get your foot here. We're just gonna . . . here we go, Stacy."

"I'll get the backboard," Greg stood.

"Good," Jason nodded, bending to join Cruz. "Let's go."

Cruz slowly pulled Stacy out of the debris, the woman's hands on her pregnant belly protectively. "Easy," Cruz warned.

Jason nodded as Greg returned with the backboard. "On my count. One, two, three!"

The three men lifted Stacy off the ground and to the gurney, and Violet stepped forward. "This is Stacy, she's seven months pregnant," Cruz told her.

"Alright, Stacy, I'm Violet," the PIC told her. "Can you tell me where it hurts?"

"Here and here, mostly," Stacy gestured around her collarbone. "Everything started falling around me, and I just got to my knees and tried to protect the baby."

Gianna moved the chestpiece of her stethoscope around Stacy's belly, then she smiled. "I can hear the baby's heartbeat," she reported.

"Oh, thank God," Stacy closed her eyes.

"Heads up!" Gallo shouted.

Cruz instinctively leaned over Stacy, and Greg and Jason backed away as more wood fell from the scaffolding, landing with a crack on the debris pile. Jason whistled lowly, and Violet cleared her throat. "Let's get you outta here."

"Yeah, let's – " Jason nodded. "Good idea."

***

"You want to offer Nina a deal?" Morrison stared at Nolan in horror.

"Given the facts of this particular case, we think it's prudent," Nolan said carefully.

"You think it's prudent to give a murderer a deal?"

Nolan winced. Bad choice of words. "That's not what I meant."

"Well, what is it, Price?" Morrison growled. "You afraid of losing? Tarnishing your sterling reputation?"

"No," Nolan shook his head. "I'm trying to be honest, to tell you where we're at."

"We've evaluated the evidence, the strengths, the weaknesses," Sam joined in. "And we think a manslaughter plea would be a reasonable result."

"We know it's not perfect, but we're trying to be pragmatic," Nolan nodded.

"Yeah, on my son's nickel!" Morrison scowled and stood. "You get a guilty plea, and my son's reputation goes to hell. His legacy gets shattered. Nina shot and killed my only child, but that wasn't enough. Now she's got to kill him again on the stand. Accuse him of hitting her? Of raping her? And you're just gonna let her get away with it!"

"It's not that simple," Nolan began and stood as well.

"That's what people say when they're afraid of making a tough decision," Morrison sneered mockingly. "'It's not that simple.' But hey, you're the prosecutors. You get to make the decisions. So, if you wanna make a deal, if you wanna cut that evil sociopath a break, that's up to you. but if you're asking for my blessing? You can kiss my ass."

***

"I appreciate that Kyle's father is angry," Jack told Nolan, the pair walking to Jack's office. "But it's our job to make the hard decisions, not his."

"I understand that," Nolan nodded as he shut the door. "But he was the only reason I considered a plea in the first place. I was trying to be respectful, but he wasn't interested. He wanted justice for his son."

"And that moved you?" Jack raised an eyebrow.

"It did," Nolan admitted.

"Understandable," Jack nodded. "But being moved doesn't change the likelihood of success. It certainly doesn't make the jury any less sympathetic to the defendant's allegations of domestic violence. Brian Morrison's son was just murdered, for God's sake. His thinking is clouded by rage and hate. What he thinks, what he wants, can't matter here. I appreciate your resolve. Don't let your ego get in the way."

"It isn't ego," Nolan shook his head. "It's belief."

"Belief?" Jack repeated. "Belief in what?"

"In the system," Nolan answered. "In the ability of twelve people, regardless of their own personal relationship to domestic abuse, to see the truth. When I'm through with this trial, the jurors will see the exact same thing I see on that witness stand: a charming, sophisticated killer."

Jack's fingers tapped a rhythm on his desk as he mulled over the words, then he nodded. "OK," he said. "Let's roll the dice."

***

"Here you are, Lieutenant," Violet stepped into Greg's office and handed him a folder. "My report from the call."

"Thanks," Greg nodded and took the file. Violet nodded and stepped out, and Greg frowned when he saw her wince and touch her side. "You good, Violet?" he asked in concern. "Nothing hit you on the call, did it?"

"No, Lieutenant," Violet shook her head and gave him an attempt at a smile. "Just think I slept wrong last night."

Greg frowned, unconvinced, but he finally nodded. "Alright." Violet disappeared from view, but just as Greg opened the file to review Violet's report, another woman took her place. "Wendy?" Greg did a double take.

"Hey," Wendy folded her arms and leaned in the doorframe. "There's something you need to know."

"Got another investigation on your hands?" Greg asked, turning in his chair to give her his full attention.

"Yes," Wendy nodded, then she blinked. "No." Greg raised an eyebrow, and Wendy winced. "Not an arson one. And technically not on my hands."

"OK?" Greg held out, looking at her expectantly.

Wendy sighed. "Remember that little celebration we had here after the car explosion at St. Dominic's?"

"Yeah," Greg snorted. "When Evan ambushed me. Fun time."

Wendy's smile was quickly gone. "Well, Herrmann and Mouch apparently talked with the floaters while we were investigating that, and then they pulled me aside and asked me about Jason."

Greg's eyes immediately narrowed. "What about him?" he asked sharply and sat up straight.

"If I knew anything about why he's only had temporary assignments for the past two years," Wendy answered. "And I was at headquarters making a run for Captain Van Meter. I overheard someone sending over a confidential personnel file by Chief Boden's request. Mouch delivered it just a few minutes ago."

Greg's stomach dropped into his stomach. "And Jason?"

Wendy licked her lips. "Just got called back."

Greg groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh, God."

"Greg," Wendy swallowed. "I don't want to overstep, but . . . this doesn't sound good."

"No," Greg shook his head darkly. "No, it's not. I've told Jason to tell. I should've pushed him to tell Severide before we took these posts at 51."

"Tell him what?" Wendy frowned.

***

"Hey!" Gianna bounced over to Cruz, wrapping her arms lightly around his neck and resting her chin atop his head. "Whatcha doing?"

"Preschools," Cruz answered with a gesture to his computer screen. "Do you know how much they cost? Or at least the one that Chloe likes?"

"A lot?" Gianna guessed.

Cruz snorted. "I mean, how can somebody call themselves 'The Happy Village' when they're just taking your money?"

Gianna giggled. "Look at the cuties, though," she pointed. "They do look happy."

"They really do," Cruz admitted.

"Hence the name," Gianna patted his shoulder. "I actually came to tell you something."

"Oh, yeah?" Cruz turned. "What's up?"

"So, I was cleaning out the rig, and I found this," Gianna showed him a brown bag. "It's Stacy's, the pregnant victim from this morning."

"Oh!" Cruz's eyes widened.

"You two had such an awesome connection, and I thought you might wanna drop it off for her," Gianna held out the bag.

"Yeah!" Cruz nodded eagerly. "Yeah, of course!"

"Great!" Gianna grinned. "She's already been released from Med, and she's back home."

"Oh, that's so good to hear," Cruz sighed in relief.

"I thought you might like to know that," Gianna smiled. "Her home address is on her ID in there."

"Thanks," Cruz nodded and stood. "Who knows? Maybe she'll have a hook up to The Happy Village."

Gianna giggled. "You never know!"

***

"Hey, Chief," Jason peered into Boden's office. "You wanted to see me?"

Boden nodded. "Come on in, Pelham. Close the door." Jason shut the door behind him and finished wiping his hands off with a rag as he sat in front of his chief. "I don't think I've ever asked you since you joined," Boden folded his arms. "How do you like working at 51?"

"Oh, it's a great firehouse," Jason grinned. "Squad 3 is some of the best in the business. I'm glad Severide asked me to take over."

"I'm glad he trusted you," Boden nodded. "It's rare to find a pair that could even attempt to measure up to Casey and Severide, and I got you and Grainger. I consider myself very lucky. So I was surprised when my engine lieutenant came to me with a few questions."

Jason blinked. "Questions?" he repeated, furiously attempting to think of anything Herrmann had asked him.

"And that made me think," Boden nodded. "So I did a little research."

The pointed look Jason received made his blood freeze. "You found out about my suspension," he said blandly.

"Not just any suspension," Boden raised an eyebrow. "Longest suspension ever issued by the CFD."

Jason covered his wince with a weak chuckle. "I'm not sure if I knew that. Maybe they should have given me some kind of plaque."

Boden nodded. "Wanna tell me what happened?"

Jason gestured to the thick file on his desk. "You got the file right there."

"It's a little light on details."

Jason pressed his lips together. "I'd love to fill the blanks for you, Chief, 'cause I have great respect for you . . . but I can't."

Boden's scowl deepened. "Does Grainger know?"

"He does," Jason admitted. "So does Chief Hawkins. I don't have very many friends in the CFD, Chief, but those two have been with me from the very beginning. They'll tell you exactly what I am: I am loyal, tough, honest, and I lay it all on the line for the men and women I work with. I was a floater at a lot of houses, and I never fought to be part of any of them except Greg's. Squad 3 is the first rig I've wanted to stay on for years, and I will fight my ass off and do whatever it takes to stay its lieutenant."

Boden sighed. "Whatever it takes . . . except tell me what happened at Whiskey Point."

Jason's jaw clenched. "That's right."

Boden stared long and hard at him. "Grainger knows," he repeated. "And I've seen him trust you to watch his back."

"Yes, sir," Jason nodded. "There's no one I trust more than him, and I like to think it's reciprocated."

Boden hummed, then he nodded slowly. "I won't stop asking, Lieutenant."

Jason chuckled as he stood. "I didn't expect you to, Chief." Boden said nothing as Jason opened the door, and he paused when he almost ran right into Greg, who leaned against the wall with his arms folded. Jason saw the look on his face and sighed, shoulders slumping. "What, were you ready to barge in there and defend my honor if you had to?" he japed.

"Any day, any time," Greg nodded seriously.

Jason sighed and walked down the hall. "What did I do to deserve a friend like you?"

Greg opened his mouth to answer, but Cruz appeared around the corner before he could say anything. "Oh, Lieutenant!" Cruz blinked. "I was just looking for you."

"Oh," Jason cleared his throat. "What's up?"

"Uh, that lady from the scaffolding collapse left her purse in the ambo," Cruz answered and held up a brown bag. "Should we take a ride and return it?"

Jason could have kissed him. "Yeah," he nodded, shoving his rag into his back pocket. "I'm not really getting any work done here anyway."

He walked to the apparatus floor without another word, and Cruz gave Greg a look of concern. Greg shrugged helplessly in return, and Cruz followed his lieutenant out to the rig.

***

Nolan absently tapped his pen consistently against his desk as he perused the files in his evidence folder, not even stopping when he heard his door open. "So," Frank's voice finally made him look up, and he blinked as the detective shut the door. "It's the battle to see who's the better actor, huh?"

Nolan's brow furrowed. "What?"

"The entire world is a stage, right?"

Nolan snorted. "All the world's a stage," he corrected.

"Eh, close enough," Frank shrugged and held up a coffee cup. "Need it?"

"Yeah, thanks," Nolan sighed and took the offered drink.

"Look, it's pretty damn obvious I'm not the diplomatic one at the 2-7," Frank said as he sat on the edge of Nolan's desk. Nolan guffawed into his coffee at that, and Frank scowled. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up."

"You said it, not me," Nolan reminded him.

"Bastard," Frank rolled his eyes. "But it seems to me that no matter what kind of job you get, if it's a high position, you better know how to act. Politicians wear masks all the time, and Nina Ellis is no different. Her masks are pretty impeccable. It took me and Kevin going down several paths to finally figure out how much she was lying."

Nolan leaned his head back against his chair, now twirling his pen between his fingers. "The best lies are always the ones with a grain of truth to them," he murmured.

"Maybe she did love him, either at one point or another," Frank shrugged. "But if she ever did, she clearly loves herself more. She just loves to hear herself talk."

Nolan scoffed. "Don't I know it." He took a long gulp of coffee, then he did a double take and checked the label as he sat up straight. "This is my go-to."

"It sounded like the closest to the one you got in Austin," Frank shrugged. "I just took a guess."

"Oh," Nolan said softly, then he smiled. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Frank nodded. "So, how much has Nina been lying?"

"Well, I'm pretty confident the only thing that's been the truth is her name, she was engaged to Kyle Morrison, and she killed her fiancé," Nolan sighed. "Sam is right, though. With the self-defense claim she's going with and what she's saying about Kyle abusing her, we need to be careful. If we go about it wrong, this is going to turn out to be a not-guilty verdict."

"We looked through everything," Frank told him. "No texts, no emails, no phone records, no logs anywhere indicating signs of abuse."

"Victims don't always tell, no matter what kind of abuse it is," Nolan shook his head. "Sylvie was never physically abused, but I've heard firsthand what kind of verbal onslaught she took in Chicago. To come clean about that kind of humiliation . . . " He trailed off with a sigh. "No. I need to be careful."

Frank hummed thoughtfully. "What made Kidd crack?" he asked.

Nolan blinked and looked up at him. "What?"

"Well, everything I heard made it sound like Kidd did a pretty decent job of hiding she actually did anything to Sylvie, though her dislike of her and Casey was pretty open," Frank shrugged. "How'd she get caught?"

Nolan frowned. "She followed Sylvie out of the bar and confronted her. Matt had ducked out to take a call and recorded the entire thing."

"So she got too confident and spoke too much," Frank summarized.

"Yeah, she did," Nolan nodded, then he froze.

Frank grinned. "Lightbulb?"

"She talked too much," Nolan said slowly. "And that was her downfall."

"Uh huh," Frank grinned. "Except while Kidd got caught talking about how she really felt, Nina just likes hearing herself talk and get away with things."

"Unless she says something that will contradict herself," Nolan continued, a smile growing on his face. "Or something we can disprove."

Frank patted his desk with a smile. "Go rip her to shreds, Nolan."

***

When Stacy opened the door to her place, she had gauze covering the gash on her forehead. "Hi," she greeted Cruz with a smile. "What are you – ?" Cruz held up her purse, and Stacy laughed in relief. "Oh, my God, you are such a sweetheart!"

"The medics found it in their rig," Cruz explained, handing her the purse.

"I thought I left it at the hospital," Stacy smiled. "I was gonna stop by there later." Cruz chuckled and nodded, and as Stacy turned to place her purse on a hook, he caught a glimpse of the inside of her apartment. It looked like she had just the bare minimum with a couch and table, and he looked at Stacy in surprise. "I've had to scale back since I'm going it alone right now," she told him. "I was working at Finley's Diner, but my doctor said that I need to stay off my feet the rest of the pregnancy, so that was that. But once the baby is born, I'll get back to work, get back on track."

"Well, it sounds like you're doing everything right to take care of yourself and that little one," Cruz smiled. "And it's not easy, I know."

Stacy smiled and nodded. "Do you wanna come in?" she offered. "Have some coffee? The whole team is welcome. It's the least I can do after what you all did for me."

"No," Cruz shook his head apologetically. "That's very generous of you, but we actually gotta get back to the firehouse."

"Alright," Stacy nodded in acceptance. "But if you're ever in the neighborhood and could use a cup, my door is always open to . . . " She looked past him and grinned when she saw the side of the rig. "Squad 3."

"Thank you, Stacy," Cruz beamed. "And good luck with everything."

"And good luck to you and your little boy," Stacy replied.

Cruz waved and walked back down to the rig, feeling Stacy smile after him.

***

Greg sighed as he walked through the firehouse, already plotting his course to the nearest aspirin bottle. "In Violet's defense, the guy was being a jackass while on the call."

"Did she really have to berate him, though?" Evan asked on the other end of the phone call.

Greg winced. "The rest of the bystanders seemed to think she did."

Evan sighed. "It still requires me to come by and talk to her."

"Yeah, I get it," Greg muttered as he stepped into the kitchen. "Thanks for the heads up." He paused as he opened a cabinet and pulled out the aspirin bottle. "Maybe take it a little easy on her, though. She's been trying to hide it, but it looks like something happened to her side."

"Thanks. See you later."

"See you." Greg tapped a few pills into his palm, then he heard the doors open and close quickly. He turned and watched Wendy rush up to him, a look of alarm on her face. "What happened?" he asked as he replaced the bottle.

"Jason punched his superior officer in the face?!" Wendy squeaked, eyes wide.

Greg balked and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her out of the kitchen before they could draw more attention. "What the hell?" he hissed as he pulled her into the laundry area. "How did you find out about that?"

"Look, after all the arson investigations I've done, a few people owe me some favors," Wendy shrugged and folded her arms. "I thought if I found out something, there might be something I can do to help if his job here is threatened."

Greg swallowed and closed his eyes, mentally counting to ten. "Wendy, I appreciate that, and I'm certain on any other day, Jason would be, too," he told her. "But this is something that really doesn't need to spread around the firehouse. Jason's job is safe, at least for now. Boden still wants to know what happened, but he trusts me, and since I trust Jason – "

"That's enough for now?" Wendy guessed.

"For now," Greg nodded. "I'm gonna keep working him, maybe convince Evan to help me gang up on him."

"OK," Wendy nodded.

"And, uh . . . " Greg cleared his throat. "Maybe next time, don't announce it in the middle of the room that my best friend punched a superior officer clean out of the CFD?"

Wendy's jaw dropped. "He what?"

Greg stared. "You didn't know that?"

"Truck 81. Automatic alarm. 1450 Crenshaw Street."

"Um," Greg winced and backed away. "One day, you'll get the story."

"I am so holding you to that!" Wendy folded her arms, watching Greg sprint for his rig.

Greg waved in reply and grimaced at the pills in his hand before swallowing them dry. "You good, Lieutenant?" Gallo asked in concern as he hopped up into the rig.

Greg merely sighed as he climbed into his seat. "It's been a long, long day," he said heavily.

***

Nolan flipped through the evidence file on his table, determining where to begin his line of questioning. "Your former Chief Technology Officer stated, under oath, that the test results submitted to the FDA were fraudulent, that the data that he reported was different than the data that was actually included in the application."

"Is there a question here, Your Honor?" Stanley asked.

"Get to it, Mr. Price," Miller ordered.

Nolan nodded. "When the CTO finished the application, you were the only other executive in the company who reviewed it," he said as he stood. "You were also the only executive who signed it, which means you lied about the data, the results."

"That's not correct," Nina shook her head. "I reviewed what Derek Seaver sent me, made a few edits in the narrative portion of the application, signed it, then submitted it."

Nolan frowned as he looked through the paperwork. "In the past eighteen months, there have been approximately four thousand customer complaints, all of them claiming to have received either a false negative or a false positive – "

"Science isn't perfect," Nina interrupted. "False negatives and positives are to be expected."

"Four thousand complaints," Nolan emphasized. "And that's just the tip of the iceberg. God knows how many other people have received inaccurate results but didn't bother to complain or don't even know it yet."

"The tests work," Nina insisted. "But that doesn't mean that we're not striving to improve their accuracy, to make them foolproof."

"According to your recent S-1 Registration Statement, you've sold a total of eight thousand tests," Nolan told her. "That means your accuracy rate is approximately 50%. Heads you have cancer, tails you don't."

"The technology that we've developed will disrupt the healthcare industry and save millions of lives!" Nina scowled.

"Save lives?" Nolan frowned. "Your screening tests are killing people."

"Objection!" Stanley shouted.

"Sustained," Miller nodded. "You've made your point, Mr. Price."

Nolan backed away from the stand to continue. "46 former employees have sued your company for wrongful termination. Each and every one of them stated they were fired for speaking the truth – "

"Objection," Stanley stood again. "Mr. Price is giving a speech."

"I'll get straight to it, Your Honor," Nolan folded his arms and narrowed his eyes at Nina. "You don't care about the truth, do you?"

"That's preposterous," she scoffed. "I'm a scientist. The truth is literally the only thing that matters. But it's complicated. I mean, what is 'the truth?'" Nolan raised an eyebrow, and Nina turned to address the jury. "It's a tricky question, trickier than most of us would like to admit. So, we use science to help define it, to arrive at the functional truth, what something does as opposed to what something is."

Nolan blinked slowly. "I have no idea what you just said."

"Then allow me to try again," Nina smirked smugly. "Short and sweet, this time. I believe in the truth."

"As long as it suits your interest," Nolan deadpanned.

He could almost hear the inaudible snort that he knew came from the back of the room. "Objection!" Stanley stared.

"Move on, Mr. Price," Miller ordered.

Nolan nodded and did just that. "Your company filed for bankruptcy this month," he said. "Over 35 investors have filed lawsuits. The trustee estimates the value of the ongoing business is zero. So, if the screening tests were so accurate and the data was so amazing, how could the company be worth nothing?"

"The valuation has nothing to do with the technology," Nina snapped. "It has to do with this trial, with the fact I'm not able to run the company because I shot Kyle, because the DA's Office charged me with murder!"

"Because you shot and killed Kyle Morrison," Nolan countered.

"He was going to kill me!" she burst out. "I did what I had to do!"

Nolan tapped his fingers on the jury box railing, thinking through his next words. This was the line of questioning he had been gearing up to ask, but Sam's words of warning still rang in his head. If he did this wrong, their entire case was likely to go up in smoke, just like Nicole Bell's almost did . . . and he had a feeling Sam wasn't going to appreciate being asked to give a closing argument in his stead. On the other hand, if Nina could be goaded enough . . .

He took the gamble and straightened to his full height. "If Kyle was so violent, how come you never told any of your friends?" he asked. "Or called the police?"

He could feel Sam's incredulous eyes boring into his back, but he looked expectantly at Nina for her answer. "Because I was afraid," she told him. "And ashamed."

"Afraid and ashamed," he repeated dubiously. "Really? I've read several interviews you've given. Interviews where you talk about being fearless, about destroying the so-called Boys Club. About kicking men in the balls who dare insult your ability to run a tech company."

"That was my persona speaking," Nina shook her head. "It's not who I really am deep down."

"I don't know there really is a deep down," Nolan smiled thinly. "You're whoever you need to be in any given moment. Confident alpha dog CEO, abused battered victim – "

"Kyle Morrison abused me!" Nina yelled at him. "Beat me, raped me! He broke my arm three months ago because I smiled at another man! I spent three hours at the hospital! So don't you dare question my truth!"

Outwardly, Nolan narrowed his eyes. Inside, he smirked victoriously. "That's my job, Ms. Ellis," he said softly. "To question your truth. To question your ridiculous assertions."

"Objection!" Stanley shot to her feet.

"Sustained," Miller nodded.

Nolan stepped away from the witness box, satisfied with his work. "Nothing further."

He turned back to walk to his seat as Miller called the court to recess. He felt Sam's glare on him, but he ignored it momentarily to scan through the courtroom. Multicolored eyes locked on pale ones, and he gave a small nod. Frank nodded in return and slipped out of the courtroom before he could be noticed, and Nolan packed up his briefcase to leave.

***

"Thought you weren't gonna challenge the abuse allegations?" Sam scowled as they walked down the street.

"I changed my mind," Nolan said simply.

"How come?"

"Because I needed to."

"You needed to attack her victimhood?" Sam stared at him.

"No, I attacked her credibility," Nolan corrected.

Sam shook her head. "You played into her hands, Nolan. You alienated the jury."

"Or I made them realize that she's lying, weaponizing their victimhood for her own personal gain," Nolan stopped to face her. "This isn't about the past or women or a movement. It's about what Nina Ellis did to Kyle Morrison."

"You called her a liar," Sam snapped. "You told the jury you didn't believe she was raped, beaten, without any real proof."

"But we're getting it."

Sam did a double take. "Excuse me?"

"Up until this point, nothing Nina said could be proven or disproven," Nolan told her. "When I attacked her credibility in open court, she finally did say something."

Sam's eyes widened in realization. "Her broken arm."

"Exactly," Nolan nodded. "If Kyle really broke her arm three months ago, sent her to the hospital, why didn't they present the medical records? Why didn't they make that a major part of their case?"

Sam nodded determinedly. "I'll call Cosgrove and Bernard, have them dig into it."

"No need," Nolan shook his head and continued to walk. "Cosgrove sat in on the proceedings today. As soon as the judge called a recess, he was out the door. He knows what to do."

Sam blinked in surprise. "He was there?"

Nolan smirked. "Who do you think gave me the idea?"

***

"Yep," the doctor with Nina's file nodded as he scanned the report. "Nina Ellis came to the ER on January 8th at 2:14 p.m."

"For a fractured arm?" Kevin asked for clarity.

The doctor nodded, and Frank peeked over his shoulder to read. "Patient fell, suffered a mid-shaft humerus fracture on her right, nondominant arm."

"Any mention of how it happened?" Frank asked. "How she fell?"

The doctor clicked his tongue as he checked, then he shook his head. "No."

"Was anyone with her?" Kevin suggested. "A man or a woman?"

"I'm not sure," the doctor shook his head. "I wasn't working that day."

Kevin nodded thoughtfully, then he looked past the doctor's ear. "Can we see your video footage?"

Frank turned to see the camera mounted to the ceiling, and the doctor nodded. "Sure."

***

There was one aspect of being an investigator that Wendy believed was both a pro and a con, and it was that once she caught even the slightest hint of something, she chased after it until she had everything put together. Herrmann and Mouch had started it when they asked her about Jason's record, and Greg had only stoked the investigating fire in her when he said Jason's former superior officer left the CFD after he was punched.

That was how she found herself standing at the door of a house as a grey-haired man in a flannel jacket looked at her. "Captain Will Stafford?" she asked.

"Yeah?" he frowned.

"I'm Lieutenant Wendy Seager, Office of Fire Investigation," she told him. "I'd like to ask you a few questions about Lieutenant Jason Pelham. Can I come in?"

A brief flash of emotion (was that relief?) flared in Stafford's eyes, and he opened the storm door and gestured for her to come into the house. "Come on in, Lieutenant."

"Thank you," Wendy smiled politely and stepped inside. "I apologize for not calling in advance. This just . . . kind of popped up on my agenda."

"Well, I'm not doing much," Stafford shook his head as he led her into the kitchen. "Can I get you a cup of tea while you're here?"

"If it's not too much trouble, I wouldn't mind," Wendy nodded. "Thank you."

Stafford joined her at the table with two mugs. "So what does OFI want with Jason Pelham?" he asked.

"It's not so much an OFI thing," Wendy admitted as she took her mug. "It's more . . . well, it's a CFD thing." Stafford raised an eyebrow, and Wendy took a deep breath. "Two years ago at a warehouse fire at Whiskey Point, you and Pelham got into a . . . tussle out front." Stafford nodded, and Wendy winced. "He hit you."

"Correct," Stafford confirmed.

Wendy licked her lips. "Can you tell me what that was about?" she asked.

Stafford sighed as he stirred his tea with a spoon. "Well, the argument started when he accused me of pocketing some antique jewelry that we came across in the storage unit during overhaul." Wendy's eyebrows raised in surprise, and Stafford looked at her. "Lieutenant, I've been waiting two years for some white shirt to show up at my door. I didn't expect OFI, but now that you're here, it's almost a relief."

Wendy choked on her tea. "I'm sorry," she coughed and covered her mouth. "You're saying . . . you did steal the jewelry?" Stafford looked down at his hands sheepishly, and Wendy rapidly shook her head. "Captain, no," she leaned forward. "I'm not here to investigate any charges of theft. I'm here to vet Pelham."

"Oh," Stafford blinked. "Well . . . Jason Pelham is about the most stand-up guy you're gonna find in the CFD, or anywhere else for that matter. Could've had me arrested, my pension stripped away. Instead, he gave me an out: return the goods, take early retirement, and he would keep his mouth shut as well as his friends'." He shrugged and looked at Wendy. "Which I guess he has."

"He has," Wendy nodded. "But until recently, it's been at a considerable cost to his career."

Stafford frowned. "How so?"

"He lost his command," Wendy answered. "He was stuck in the floater pool."

Stafford's eyes widened in alarm. "All this time?" he croaked.

"Until Firehouse 51 found itself in need of two new officers," Wendy nodded. "Captain Casey and Lieutenant Severide had become friends with Pelham and Lieutenant Grainger. Grainger jumped ship from 40 and took over Truck 81. Pelham took over Squad 3."

"That was part of why I wanted him for my house," Stafford whispered. "His heavy rescue brain . . . there was none other like him in that graduating class." He shook his head in disgust. "Chief Kilbourne was on the scene," he told her. "He saw Pelham hit me. Lousy luck. He must've really had it in for Pelham." He looked fiercely at Wendy. "Nobody deserves it less," he declared.

"I agree," Wendy nodded. "He and Grainger have helped me with a few of my investigations. When I heard what happened with him . . . "

She trailed off, and Stafford chuckled. "Grainger and Pelham, Pelham and Grainger," he said fondly. "Those boys. You rarely ever saw one without the other. You say they're posted in the same house now?"

"Yes, sir," Wendy nodded.

"Good," Stafford smiled. "They always hoped to have the same post one day."

"They have it," Wendy told him. "But I was wondering if you could do something for me to make sure it stays that way."

"For Pelham?" Stafford straightened. "Anything."

***

Violet hoped she was subtle as she chewed her lip and watched her chief read the report he held. She knew some people thought the chief was strict, but she also knew he was one of her lieutenants' best friends and he was the brains behind the start of the paramedicine program. Someone who was friends with Greg and Jason and had proven true to his word in working to decrease the CFD's non-emergency calls couldn't be that bad.

That still didn't mean she appreciated feeling like she was under a microscope. "Well, this says you were very aggressive, and that you loudly berated the pedestrian," he told her.

"I shouldn't have raised my voice, agreed," Violet nodded. "But he got in the way just to take a video of the victim."

"That happens all the time," Evan told her as he stood from his seat. "And I realize how frustrating that can be. But these complaints go on your record, and if you get another one, then I'm gonna have to – " Whatever else he was going to say died on his tongue as he watched Violet grimace and back away from the table, her hands clutching her abdomen. "You OK?" he asked in concern, remembering Greg's warning.

"Yeah, yeah," Violet nodded, swallowing hard as she tried to stand straight. "I . . . I just – "

Her legs buckled from under her, and Evan lunged forward to grab her before she hit her head on the side of the table. "Ow!" she shrieked. "What the hell?!"

"Greg!" Evan bellowed. "Get Mackey to the ambo and get in here!" Shouting outside the conference room meant his orders were being followed, and Evan bent over Violet, checking where she was clutching her side. "Is it all on your right side?" he asked.

Violet nodded rapidly. "Like a stabbing," she panted.

Evan carefully probed the area with his fingertips, and Violet wailed in pain. "OK, Violet, I think your appendix just burst," he told her. "We're gonna have to get you to the hospital right now."

Violet whimpered, then the door to the room burst open. Greg and Jason ran inside, and Jason stopped short when he saw Violet writhing on the ground. "What the hell?" he stared.

"Her appendix burst," Evan explained shortly as Greg joined him. "Help me get her out of here."

"Got it," Greg nodded, slinging one of Violet's arms around his shoulders. "Up on three?"

"Yeah," Evan nodded. "One, two, three!"

Violet cried out as they lifted her to her feet, and Jason backed out of the room and shooed firefighters out of their way. Gallo and Ritter immediately opened the doors to the apparatus bay, and Gianna already had the back of the ambulance open when they arrived. "I need some morphine, stat," Violet ground out.

"We got you, partner," Gianna promised as she helped Violet into the ambulance. "I'm gonna get you right to Med."

"We'll call ahead," Jason told her. "Do you need anyone to go with you?"

"I'll stay with her in back," Evan answered.

"Great," Gianna nodded and scrambled out of the back.

Evan hopped into the back to take her place, and Greg leaned in to give him an iron look. "Look after our girl," he told her.

"Paramedic's honor," Evan held up his hand.

Greg nodded in satisfaction and shut the doors to the ambulance, thumping them on the back as he did. The ambulance pulled out of the firehouse a few seconds later, sirens wailing. "This pain!" Violet groaned. "I'm dying here! What's taking you so long?"

Evan shook his head as he drew medicine into one of the syringes. "I'm gonna give you 25 micrograms of fentanyl," he told her.

"Make it 50," Violet demanded.

Evan blinked but didn't argue. "OK, 50 micrograms."

"This is what happens when everyone in the firehouse goes crazy!" Violet raged. "I swear, if Grainger and Pelham aren't back to normal when I'm clear for duty – "

Evan looked up sharply from his work. "What's going on with Greg and Jason?"

"Nothing!" Gianna piped up from the front. "It's nothing."

"That's not what Ritter's saying," Violet griped.

"OK, we'll get back to that," Evan scowled as he drew the syringe out of the vial. "Pushing the fentanyl."

"About time," Violet seethed, not even flinching as Evan injected the drug into her bloodstream. "Maybe they'll listen to someone who isn't an adrenaline junkie like them."

"Oh?" Evan raised an eyebrow. "Is that what Lieutenant Seager is?"

"She pulls them into her investigations," Violet shrugged with one shoulder. "Reminds me of Casey and Severide." She blinked hazily up at him, her hand slinging onto his knee. "You're not a bad paramedic, you know that?"

Evan chuckled. "Must not. I'm your boss, after all."

Violet smiled dopily. "I'm gonna survive, right?"

Evan laughed loudly that time. "Yes," he patted her hand comfortingly. "You'll survive."

***

"Ms. Fox, what do you do for a living?" Nolan asked.

"I'm an equestrian coach," the woman on the stand answered. "A horse-riding instructor."

"Did you ever instruct the defendant?"

"Yes," Fox answered. "I was her coach."

"Were you coaching her on January 8th of this year?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell us what happened on that day?"

Fox nodded and cleared her throat. "We were trying to simulate a polo match. That's why I was coaching Nina. She wanted to join the Southampton Polo Team. So we were riding, playing polo, and she fell off her horse."

"Then what happened?" Nolan asked.

"I ran over to her," Fox responded. "She was in a lot of pain, said her arm hurt."

Nolan noticed the suspicious looks from the jury box as he continued. "What did you do next?"

"I drove her to the hospital in Southampton."

"Did the doctors perform an X-ray?"

"Yes," Fox nodded. "They said she had a broken arm."

Anger flashed across Nina's face, and Nolan watched members of the jury give her judgmental looks. "Was the defendant in any pain prior to the accident?" he asked.

"No," Fox shook her head.

"And in your experience as an equestrian coach, would it be possible to ride a horse or simulate a polo match with a broken arm?"

"No," Fox repeated. "That's highly unlikely."

Nolan leaned against the jury railing. "Last question," he said quietly, seeing Nina's jaw clench as she turned away. "Was the defendant's fiancé, Kyle Morrison, present that day, either on the polo field or in the hospital?"

Fox's answer was swift. "No."

Whispers rose in the jury box and in the audience, and Nolan turned to look at a scowling, visibly furious Nina as she glared at him from her place at the defense table.

***

"Well, it's official," Greg said as he leaned in the doorway of Jason's office. "Violet's getting her appendix out."

"That explains why she's been holding her side all day," Jason nodded.

"You saw that, too?" Greg raised an eyebrow. "Guess I should've caught it."

"At least Evan did," Jason shrugged. "Is he staying there?"

"Yeah," Greg nodded. "At least until she comes out of surgery."

Jason nodded, then he blinked when Wendy appeared from behind Greg. "Wendy," he said in surprise. "I think this is a record for visits."

"You," she pointed at him, then pointed her finger in Greg's face, making the truck lieutenant back away and blink rapidly. "And you. Follow me."

Jason looked at Greg in bewilderment, but the man shook his head and followed Wendy obediently. "What's this about?" he asked in confusion.

Wendy didn't answer as she stopped by Kylie's desk. "Is the chief available?" she asked.

"Uh," Kylie blinked. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good," Wendy stepped past her and knocked on the door. "Do you have a minute, Chief?"

"Lieutenant Seager?" Boden looked up from his computer in surprise. "Sure. Come on in."

"Great," Wendy nodded, then she pointed a folder at Greg and Jason. "Inside."

Boden's eyebrows rose as Greg and Jason hastily entered the office. "I wasn't aware that we had a meeting," he said dryly.

"Believe me, sir, neither did we," Greg shook his head.

"Hopefully, it won't take too long," Wendy said and held out the folder to Boden. "Not once you see that, anyway."

"What's this?" Boden frowned as he took the offered folder.

Wendy pressed her lips together thinly. "Let's just say that once I get a bone waved in front of my nose, I chase it until I catch it."

Greg and Jason exchanged alarmed looks, and Boden's frown deepened as he examined the contents of the folder. After a moment, he set the folder down and looked at Pelham in surprise. "You caught Captain Stafford stealing?"

Jason swallowed hard. "Wendy," he whispered. "Where did you get that?"

"I had a few contacts in the union that I asked," Wendy answered. "And when Greg said Captain Stafford left the CFD after the incident . . . something didn't add up." She sheepishly looked down at her boots. "And . . . I didn't like the thought of you getting booted from 51."

"Pelham," Boden sighed. "Help me out here."

Jason slumped in his seat. "Stafford was a great leader," he said quietly. "Great mentor to me. Then his wife left him. Took the kids, took everything. He just went off the rails. When I caught him stealing, I knew he was no longer fit for the job. He didn't like that option, got physical with me, so I had to subdue him."

"Evan and I tried to get him to explain that to Chief Kilbourne," Greg added. "We wanted him to keep his command."

"But like I told them time and time again, the man's life was in pieces," Jason argued. "I wasn't gonna send him to jail on top of that."

"That was what Stafford was expecting when I asked him about what happened at Whiskey Point," Wendy admitted. "And when I told him I was checking in about you . . . he was pretty upset to hear you got stuck in the floater pool. I just asked him if he was willing to write a statement on what happened for Chief Boden. He said it was the least he could do."

Jason sighed. "You didn't have to do that, Wendy."

"Well, I'm glad she did," Greg huffed. "I've been telling you to tell someone ever since it happened."

"I'm glad she did as well," Boden said as he closed the file. "Rest assured, Lieutenant. Now that I know this? Should anyone come sniffing around and argue about your placement here, I will do everything in my power to keep you here."

Jason swallowed hard. "Thank you, sir." Boden nodded, then Jason lurched from his seat and pulled Wendy into a hug. The woman yelped in surprise but quickly returned the hug. "Drinks at Molly's tonight?" he asked hopefully.

"You got it," Wendy smiled and nodded.

As the bells rang overhead and summoned each of 51's rigs, Jason bolted out of the room. Greg was about to join him, then he hugged Wendy just as tightly. "Thank you," he whispered.

Wendy beamed at him. "Any time."

Greg grinned and ran for the apparatus floor, and Boden chuckled. "If you ever doubt it, Seager . . . know that what you have done proves you're an honorary member of 51."

He patted her shoulder and departed to follow his firehouse, leaving Wendy grinning ear to ear with happiness.

***

Miller's face gave no visible indication of the jury's decision as she scanned the document handed to her by one of the court guards. She handed the document back, then she turned to the quartet on the floor. "Will the defendant please rise?" she requested, and Nina and Stanley rose from the defense table as Nolan and Sam rose from the prosecution table. Nina straightened to her full height and leveled a cool gaze onto Miller, who held her gaze before turning to the jury. "Has the jury reached a verdict?"

"Yes, Your Honor," the foreperson nodded as he retook the document returned to him by the court guard.

"What say you?"

The foreperson looked down at the document as he answered. "On the count of murder in the first degree, we find the defendant guilty."

Excited and shocked chatter rose immediately, and Nina seethed angrily as she was taken by the police into custody. Nolan nodded and turned to Morrison, who had sat directly behind them throughout court. The man smiled sadly as he shook his hand. "Thank you," he said, then he did the same with Sam. "Thank you."

Sam nodded in return, and Morrison departed the room. He passed Frank, who politely stood aside to let the grieving father pass, and the detective waited patiently as Nolan and Sam finished packing. "I think I've seen you in the courtroom more times this week than I ever have since you joined the 2-7," Nolan quipped as he joined his friend.

"Ha ha," Frank deadpanned, making Sam snicker as the trio left the courtroom. "Very funny."

"I'm hilarious, thank you very much."

"Uh huh," Frank rolled his eyes as he looked at Sam. "Is he always like this after a victory?"

"Only when he ended up being right," Sam responded, giving Nolan an apologetic smile.

"Which is often," Nolan winked and lightly nudged her with his arm.

His expression said it all: they were good. Sam's smile relaxed, and she returned the nudge as they exited the courthouse. "But not always."

"No," Nolan conceded with a chuckle. "Not always." He looked around at the bottom of the courthouse steps, and he nodded when he saw only a few reporters lingering, all likely hoping to get a glimpse of Nina Ellis, now a convicted murderer. "No protesters," he said. "That's good."

"How's that?" Sam frowned.

"Shows the movement is real," Nolan answered as they walked down the steps. "People saw through Nina's lies."

"I get it, but it's tricky," Sam warned. "The mantra is 'The victim's truth is the only truth.'"

"It's a good mantra," Frank said as they walked down the sidewalk, the detective checking his phone. "But there's a catch with a mantra like that."

"Hmm?" Nolan raised an eyebrow expectantly.

Frank held up his phone, showing an online article blasting Nina and the lie she had told about Kyle. "The victim actually has to be telling the truth."

Sam nodded in agreement, and Nolan grinned. "You're just a fount of wisdom today, aren't you?"

"Hey," Frank scowled and swatted at Nolan, which the prosecutor neatly avoided as Sam watched with wide eyes. "I helped you nail that woman's coffin shut, didn't I?"

Nolan barked in laughter. "Yes, you did. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Frank grinned smugly, his gait adjusting to be more like a saunter.

Nolan rolled his eyes to the sky in fond exasperation. "And just when I was about to ask if you were interested in a drink."

"If we split buying the rounds?" Frank smirked.

"Deal," Nolan agreed, then he looked at Sam. "Interested in joining us?"

"No," Sam shook her head and cleared her throat. "No, there's a bit of paperwork I've got with me that I should finish before tomorrow. I'll head home. Thanks for the offer, though."

"Alright," Nolan nodded, watching her step to the curb and raise her hand to summon a cab. "And Sam?" She turned and looked at him expectantly, and Nolan smiled softly. "I don't say it enough, but you're a good partner. Thank you."

Sam blinked in surprise, then she preened with a smile. "You're welcome," she nodded.

The pair waited to watch her climb into her cab, and they only continued on their walk once she was gone. "So," Nolan cracked a grin. "Was that more interesting than aliens?"

Frank groaned, and this time his fist connected with Nolan's shoulder. "What the hell, man?"

Nolan's laughter rang through the air as he reached out and pressed the button for the crosswalk. "Forlini's?" he suggested.

"Yeah, and make it fast," Frank groused. "And no more mentioning those goddamn glowing radioactive idiots."

"Here's some consolation," Nolan gave him an innocent look. "It's very unlikely that's ever going to happen here in New York."

Frank shook his head in exasperation as the light changed. "You really like living dangerously, don't you, Nolan?" he huffed.

"Eh," Nolan snickered and elbowed Frank as they crossed the street. "It's part of my charm. You like it."

Frank's sigh was audible, but his next words were quiet enough that Nolan didn't hear him. "God help me, I do."

***

Gallo did a double take when Herrmann placed a beer bottle in front of him, and he hastily swallowed the drink he had just taken. "I didn't order another drink," he said in confusion.

"Nah, you didn't," Herrmann agreed and pointed past him. "He did for you."

Gallo twisted in his seat, and he watched in surprise as Greg said something to Jason and Wendy before walking over to him. "Lieutenant?" he asked.

"It was a hell of a shift for everyone," Greg told him as he stopped by the bar. "And there was something going on with the higher-ups that . . . well, unless it needs to be made public, we'll keep it under wraps. You noticed, and I appreciate you checking up on me. And I appreciate you telling me what you did about kids trapped in fires being a weakness for you."

"Yeah," Gallo nodded with a sigh. "You and Pelham, you're so like Casey and Severide in some ways that I . . . I forgot you hadn't known that."

Greg chuckled. "I hope we're not as crazy as them."

"That's kind of nice, though," Gallo smiled. "It helps me remember that it's you riding as my officer now and not Casey. I know I can be a pain in the ass sometimes, but when I've had my ideas, you've let me have my run. Even Casey was hesitant in some calls."

"Casey didn't choose an experienced firefighter to join his team," Greg shook his head. "He chose you for a reason. You're a hell of a firefighter, Gallo, and you're not a candidate. The youngest on the team, maybe, but that means you'll be the future of the department. That's nothing to sneeze at. So long as your ideas keep paying off, I'll keep you off the leash." He held out his hand. "Sound good?"

Gallo grinned widely and happily shook his hand. "Absolutely, Lieutenant."

"Cheers," Greg clapped him on the shoulder. "Have a good evening, Gallo."

"You, too!"

Jason chuckled fondly as Greg returned to the table. "He's like an excited puppy."

"A puppy who's doing everything right, at least when I'm watching him," Greg shrugged as he retook his seat. "If you give him a good reason to do something and make him feel like that thing is important, he's happy. It was his breakthrough that meant we saved that little girl at the house call . . . and Casey vetted him."

Wendy giggled. "And really, that could have been all you said."

Greg shrugged. "Hey, I trust the man."

"I still can't believe you two nearly came to blows at one point," Jason whistled.

Greg scoffed. "You have eyes that have seen Brett, right?"

Wendy snorted into her drink. "I have eyes that have seen her. Point to Greg on that."

"Yeah, I'll give you that," Jason sighed. "And of course, that would put a target on your back."

"Well, thank God it didn't," Greg said as he took a drink of his beer. "Otherwise, who the hell knows where we would be right now."

Jason grimaced. "Still in the floater pool for me."

"Still at 40 for me," Greg shrugged.

"I'd probably have never met you two," Wendy mused.

There was silence at the table for a few seconds. "That sounds like hell," Jason decided. "Let's never think like that again."

"Yes, please," Wendy held up her drink.

"Never," Greg agreed. The three clinked their drinks together, then Greg saw the dark-haired man walking towards them. "Evan!" he greeted with a smile. "We never saw you come back to 51. How's Violet?"

"She was very high the last time I saw her," Evan said dryly, causing Jason to snicker. "But she is down one appendix and feeling much better."

"Oh, good," Wendy sighed in relief.

"But she said something very interesting in the ambulance on the way to Med," Evan said as he took the extra chair at the table. "Something going on with the two of you?"

"Us?" Greg and Jason asked at the same time.

"Violet said Ritter noticed something, but Mackey wasn't so sure," Evan folded his arms. "So? What did I miss?"

"It's water under the bridge now," Jason shook his head.

"This one found out about Whiskey Point," Greg pointed at Wendy.

Evan's head whipped to stare at Wendy in surprise. "Greg!" Jason loudly protested.

"How did you – ?" Evan began.

"I am an investigator," Wendy gestured impatiently. "I work in the Office of Fire Investigation. How is it a surprise that I managed to figure all this out?"

"Because Chief Kilbourne is a piece of trash," Greg scoffed.

Evan nodded firmly. "Guys," Jason groaned.

"So get this," Greg leaned forward with a smirk. "While all of us are busy with our day, she tracked down Captain Stafford, got the whole story, and asked him to write a statement for her to give to Chief Boden."

"Why did Chief Boden need to know?" Evan frowned. "Not that I'm upset he does."

"Herrmann, at least, got nosy," Jason huffed. "So Chief Boden requested my file. Hey, did you know my suspension holds the record for longest in the CFD?"

Greg smacked him on the back of the head, making him yelp. "That's not something to be proud of!"

Evan sighed. "God, remind me why I'm friends with you two idiots?"

"Well," Wendy smiled. "They're our idiots."

Evan watched his best friends bicker back and forth, and he smiled in agreement. "Yeah, they are," he nodded. "Thanks for all you did, Wendy. Really, Greg and I have tried to get the truth about Whiskey Point out into the white shirts for a while now."

"I was happy to do something for him," Wendy grinned. "Besides, what are friends for?"

***

Sam: I'm saying this to someone who also knows Nolan and Frank

Sam: I don't understand their relationship

Sam: At all

Sylvie: That's what happens with enemies to friends

Sylvie: You never know how it'll manifest

Sam: You sound like a romance novel

Sylvie: I have literally been nicknamed the Queen of Hearts

Sylvie: Of course I do

Sylvie: Just let it play out

Sylvie: But I get dibs on Cosgrove if he hurts my brother

Sam: And you'll be the first to know

Sam: I can sic Benson and Stabler on him too if you'd like

Sylvie: I knew I liked you!

***

Once I knew I would be doing more of Greg Jason and Wendy, I knew this would be such a good episode to really incorporate Wendy even when it wasn't an arson episode. There's still investigating going on, and Wendy is not going to sit by and do nothing when investigating is her job. Poor Greg, though, with his friend-induced migraine. And Hawkami . . . that's all.

Here's Frank's character bio!

***

Frank

German, "free"

Choleric

strength, aggression, passion

The Warrior

forceful, loyal, determined

Type 8, The Challenger

decisive, willful, confrontational

ENTJ

The Commander

Gryffindor

bravery, daring, nerve

Aries

the fearless, impulsive, intense, courageous, determined, confident, honest

Fire

focused, daring, vindicative

Reversed Temperance

clashing, discord, antagonism, recklessness

Archetypes

Brutal Honesty, Deadpan Snarker, Everyone Has Standards, Jerk-to-Nice-Guy Plot, Morality Chain, Opposites Attract, Politically Incorrect Hero, Quip to Black, Red Oni Blue Oni, Samaritan Relationship Starter

Lawful Neutral

The Judge

Status

alive

***

I think that's our first example of a "reversed" major arcana card, which is fun, and hey! He and Sylvie have the same moral alignment! Now we know why they get along so well.

So, does anyone have a preference for who you see next? You can pick from the Austin crew, any of the New York teams, or the main names from the Chicago shows (Grainger, Pelham, Seager, and Hawkins on Fire; Voight, Halstead, Upton, and Burgess on PD; Halstead, Rhodes, and Manning on Med).

Next up we're definitely getting the law part of "Filtered Life," but I still need to decide if I'll adapt "Winterfest" or not. If it's a no . . . well, we're off to the ballpark! XD

graphic by marvelity