#lev osman

Everything after Karadec rescues him is a blur. He finds himself seated in the back of an ambulance, a blanket draped over his shoulders to ward off the L.A nighttime chill. He thinks he says something to Morgan about losing his dad but he’s not sure. All he knows is he’s a mess, that he’s been a mess for over a year since he lost not one, but two of the most important people in his life.

The first through a heart attack, and the second…

Well that all got fucked up when he refused to acknowledge he wasn’t coping. He’d been looking forward to seeing you tonight at the gala, to finally making amends and talking things out.

The thought of you still sitting there, thinking he’s stood you up…

It kills him.

When the squad car pulls up, he thinks it’s just another set of uniforms turning up to secure the scene but then you step out, dressed to the nines in a black and gold jumpsuit. You have that antique butterfly hairpin threaded through your waves, the one he gave you almost a lifetime ago.

He tries to fend you off. You look so damn beautiful and he’s soaking wet, but you don’t give a shit. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close and he crumbles then, nestling into your warmth, burying his face into your neck. It’s the first time he’s felt safe since his dad died, the first time that he allows himself to fall apart.

When he wakes up tonight his heart pounding, drenched in sweat, he doesn’t feel safe. He feels wild, out of sync, alone. You must sense it because that’s when you reach for him, his light in the midst the darkness. Your bare legs slip between his, your fingers combing through his dark hair as your body fits against his, your soft curves, his hard edges. He breathes in the scent of you. A perfume called Lilacs in the Nighttime, and his heart rate starts to slow, his breathing evening out to a steady rhythm.

“You don’t have to stay.” He whispers, his nose chasing over yours. “I know this wasn’t part of the plan.”

Your jumpsuit on his floor, his sodden wet suit out in the hallway. He hadn’t intended to fall back into bed with you, it was meant to be a ride home, an escort to the door and then…

Then he’d kissed you.

He’d kissed you because he’d almost died tonight, and the thought of not ever doing it again terrified him more than the thought of death itself.

“Lev…” You murmur, your lips brushing over the corner of his mouth. “Do you really want me to leave?”

“No.” He whispers, his thumb tracing over the apple of your cheek as he looks into your eyes. “I want you to stay.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

“You alright, Oz?” Karadec asks, looking at Oz in the mirror as he washes his hands.

Oz glances down, scowling at the stall’s door handle. He yanks his belt to the right, and his belt loop slips off the handle.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he grumbles. “Best day ever.”

Karadec nods, unconvinced, as he dries his hands. He and Oz are close, but not necessarily ‘share what is making today so rough before lunch’ close. Especially when it comes to the little things. Saving each other’s life? No problem. Talking about relationships? If the situation calls for it. Small talk about the mundane moments that make life miserable? It's not Karadec’s preferred topic – or Oz’s, for that matter.

“Good work on the Yu case,” Karadec says instead.

“Thanks,” Oz replies flatly.

“Morgan brought donuts. Just, uh, take it easy today, Oz.”

Oz nods as he hits his fist against the soap dispenser. He’s usually the upbeat, happy one in the group. But today, when every little thing seems to stand between him and a smile, he needs more than a donut.

“Ozzy!” Daphne calls as he returns from the restroom.

Karadec rotates his desk chair to face Daphne and shakes his head twice. That doesn’t come close to stopping Daphne, though, as she drops her smile and looks at Oz.

“Are you okay?” she asks him.

Karadec closes his eyes and releases a sigh. But Oz gives Daphne a different answer than he’d given Karadec: he shrugs as he drops heavily into his seat.

“Would a donut help?” Daphne inquires softly.

Oz straightens his seat and taps his mouse to wake his computer up. “Not today, Daph. Thanks, though.”

Daphne nods, then taps Oz’s desk three times. It’s a reminder that she’s there. It isn’t enough, she knows, so she picks up her cell phone and excuses herself from the bullpen.

In the hallway, she dials a phone number from memory and waits for someone to answer. The line connects, and she skips her usual friendly greeting to say, “I’m calling in the cavalry.”

“Ullson is here,” Soto announces as she exits her office. “Says she has information about her fiancé’s murder.”

Karadec nods and presses his hands against his knees, preparing to stand.

Soto raises her hand toward him and adds, “She said she’ll only talk to Oz.”

“Why me?” Oz asks. “Sorry,” he murmurs when he realizes how his tone sounded.

Daphne sends Soto a single look, and she immediately understands that Oz is having an off day. For a detective in a high-stress, high-stakes job, he doesn’t have many, so Soto is willing to give him the space to work this one out without consequences. Yet, a woman is waiting to give what could be vital information.

“I’ll talk to her,” Oz agrees.

“Want me to sit in?” Daphne offers.

Oz shakes his head and thanks Daphne anyway, then exits the bullpen. Karadec leans back in his chair, inviting someone else to comment on his friend and partner’s new attitude.

“He’ll be fine,” Daphne assures him.

“He didn’t even accept a donut, Daph,” Karadec points out.

“He will.”

“What does that mean?” Soto inquires.

“I called in a favor.”

Karadec smiles then, and Soto tips her head in understanding.

“Knock, knock!” Morgan calls. “Which doesn’t make any sense when the door is standing open: a universal sign of ‘hey, come on in, even if you weren’t invited!’ Why do people say that?”

“Morgan,” Karadec begins, raising a finger toward her. “Tone it down.”

“Tone myself down?”

“Oz is having a bad- no, a not great day,” Daphne explains.

“Give him a donut, he’ll be fine.”

“He’s a grown man, Morgan,” Karadec argues.

“Who likes donuts.” She raises her hands before her chest and adds, “I’m getting a lot of hostility here. Did I cause his not great day?”

“No,” Soto replies. “But we’re treading lightly for now. Let’s not make it any worse.”

“You guys love him so much,” Morgan muses before she sobers and says, “It’s a little concerning.”

“Why are you here, Morgan?” Karadec asks.

“Oh, right! Ms. Ullson killed her fiancé.”

Oz drops his notepad onto the metal table, and the woman across from him flinches as it thuds. She looks up with a smile and apologizes.

“Ms. Ullson, I’m going to be straight with you,” Oz begins. “It’s been a long morning, and I am not in the mood to run in circles or waste any time.”

“I completely understand,” she answers.

“Alright, then.” He flips to a blank page in his notepad and readies his pen. “What information do you have for me?”

“I think that my future brother-in-law, Dexter, killed Jake,” she explains softly.

Oz writes Dexter’s name, but he watches his new informant, who has been a suspect since the case landed in their laps. She wipes her face as if crying, but there’s no sign of tears.

“Why do you say that?” he asks.

“He was so jealous of his brother, of our relationship. I mean, it makes sense that it was someone close to him, right? Because of the injuries to his face. That wasn’t random, I’d assume.”

Oz sits back in the chair and taps his pen against his other hand. She shouldn't know about those injuries, he remembers.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he agrees. “It indicates a killer who knew Jake, attacked him for a personal reason.”

She nods, then drops her hands toward her lap. Shifting uncomfortably, she moves her right elbow back away from her side.

“Is that the only reason you suspect Dexter?” Oz asks. “His jealousy?”

“I mean, I’m sure there’s more, but that’s all I’ve seen.”

Oz nods and flips his notepad closed.

“Is that enough to arrest him?”

“Unfortunately, no. Why? Has he made some sort of threat to you?”

“No, nothing like that.”

Oz nods, standing. “Let me pass this on to the rest of my team, and I’ll be right back.”

“Thanks, detective.”

Exiting the interview room, Oz waves to the officer who escorted Ms. Ullson into the station.

“Yes, sir?” he asks.

“Did she drive herself; do you know?” Oz inquires.

“No, sir, there’s a man in a BMW waiting outside for her.”

That’s all the information Oz needed. He thanks the officer and then returns to the interview room.

“Jealousy is a powerful motive,” he says. “It falls under love, one of the most common reasons for murder.”

Ms. Ullson nods.

“Just like pregnancy.”

“I’m sorry,” Ms. Ullson murmurs. “I’m not following.”

“It’s too late to play dumb,” Oz snaps. “You’re pregnant, right? By Dexter, I’m guessing, and either you or he wanted Jake out of the picture. So, are you going to take the blame or tell me again that Dexter did it? Officers are waiting for my command to bring him in and book him.”

“I- I- we never…” she stutters.

“Was it you or him, or both of you together?” Oz demands, leaning his hands on the table.

“It was me,” she admits, crying without faking it. “I didn’t love him, not after Dexter. I… I didn’t mean to kill him, though, I just wanted him to leave before I started showing.”

“You attacked him, hoping that he’d break up with you?”

She nods, then wraps her arms around her waist as she begins to sob. Oz shakes his head as he returns to the door, and two officers take his place inside to arrest Ms. Ullson for the murder of her fiancé.

“It’s like a soap opera,” Oz grumbles as he walks toward his desk.

You trace your finger over the ridges of a seashell. The whirlpool design eroded into it is beautiful and holds your attention.

Your attention shifts, however, when someone whispers, “Incoming.”

Standing from the desk chair, you smile. Oz stops in the doorway when he sees you, and you breathe in time with one another. He tosses his notepad onto his desk before he pulls you into his arms.

With Oz’s arms wrapped firmly around you, you smile and circle your arms around his waist as you return the hug. He pushes his hand up your spine to cradle your head, and you whisper against his shirt that you’re here.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, smiling as he pulls back to look at you.

“I was hoping for that,” you answer, brushing your thumb across his cheek beside his pretty smile.

Oz looks over your shoulder and says, “Thanks, Daph.”

“Oh, it was selfish. I don’t like mopey Oz,” she jokes.

“Thank you for coming,” he tells you. “I… thank you.”

“Well, I brought you something,” you say.

You lift the seashell from his desk and pass it to him. He moves one hand from your waist to accept the gift, and his smile widens as he looks at the shell.

“The lines were etched by changing tides,” you explain. “It’s just a little reminder that things change. Bad days can always turn around and make something beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers. “I love it. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you promise.

“Oh, thank you, Daphne,” Karadec exclaims as he returns from somewhere else in the station.

“You didn’t even try to cheer me up, you don’t get to act relieved,” Oz says.

“I told you to take it easy!” Karadec defends. “I’m just not one to get emotional in the men’s room.”

“That’s true,” Morgan agrees.

“I don’t want to know how you know that,” Oz tells her.

Morgan shrugs, then waves to you. You’ve talked a few times while you waited for Oz, but you’re not here for her today. You’re here for Oz.

“Murder was just reported on a sidewalk off Pico,” Soto calls from her office.

“I’ll see you tonight?” you ask Oz.

“Can we-“

“Have a quiet night in?” you finish for him. “Absolutely.”

Oz hugs you once more, presses a kiss to your forehead, then tells you to be safe and text him when you get home safe. He slides the seashell into his desk drawer for safekeeping, then follows Daphne and Karadec out of the station.

“I should give you a badge for that,” Soto muses.

“He’s easy to love,” you say, shrugging.

“Thank you. I’ll get him home to you as soon as I can.”

“Thanks, Selena.”

“You call her Selena?” Morgan asks as you walk out together.

“You don’t know everything about me, Ms. Gillory.”

Oz’s phone buzzes as he prepares to leave the crime scene. Unlocking it, he smiles just as he had when you hugged him.

“I wonder who that’s from,” Daphne jokes.

Oz doesn’t listen to her or Karadec teasing him; he focuses on the picture you sent him. Your living room has been transformed into a perfect movie night setup, and Oz isn’t sure that today could get any better.

‘It’s Y/N, right?’ A voice broke you out of the trance, causing you to tense up.

‘Correct.’ You answered, then looked at her before turning back to your computer. ‘What do you think happened?’ Morgan asked, your head whipped around to her. ‘What?’ you asked. She motioned to the board behind her. You knew Karadec was watching the pair of you, even though he was pretending not to. ‘I know you’re paying attention to this.’ Morgan said, you blinked. ‘I don’t think your partner would be happy that you’re talking to me.’ You said, tilting her head, ‘nobody would.’ ‘You should know I don’t care about others’ opinions.’ She told you, you had known that since she started. ‘So what do you think happened?’ ‘I think she was kidnapped.’ You stated, before standing up and walking to the board with Morgan, a smile on her lips. ‘And why’s that?’ ‘The rug at the front door alone costs nearly twenty-two thousand dollars, mostly imported from Italy, she isn’t going to dirty it or allow anyone to wear shoes near it.’ ‘Anything else?’ Adam asked, clearly annoyed that Morgan was discussing the case with you. You nodded. ‘Curtain on the back window,’ you motioned to the picture, ‘is tied opposite the photo her daughter gave you.’ Tapping it with your finger, Morgan’s brows furrowed as Adam and she stepped forward. ‘To get more sunshine?’ Daphne suggested as she and Oz joined the conversation. ‘With the angle of her house, it wouldn’t change anything.’ ‘Why has it changed?’ Oz questioned, and you tilted your head. ‘You need to shake curtains to clear them of the glass.’ ‘Glass?’ ‘The frame on the door is also different to the others.’ You told them, crossing your arms over your chest, ‘but I’m guessing Morgan already knew that.’ You stated, everyone turned to her as her gaze dropped to the ground. ‘I mean, I had a feeling but wanted a second opinion.’ She shrugged, and Adam narrowed his eyes at her.

‘Where’s Y/N?’ Morgan asked, noticing that your desk was empty, with no water bottle or bag tucked underneath. ‘What?’ Karadec said, Morgan pointed to it. ‘They’re normally here before us, they put the coffee on.’ She motioned towards the breakroom, where people were complaining that fresh coffee hadn’t been put on. ‘Maybe they’re ill?’ Karadec said, Morgan shook her head. ‘But there were no signs, sniffs or coughs.’ She listed them off, Karadec turned to her and sighed. ‘Morgan, maybe they wanted a day off.’ He suggested, she shook her head. ‘No, they’ve been putting in their time since the rumours followed them from precincts.’ ‘How do you know that?’ He asked. ‘Because I talked to them.’ Morgan said, her hand pressed to her chest, her fingers wrapped around her necklace. ‘Can you take me to her apartment?’ Morgan asked, Adam raised an eyebrow. ‘Call a cab or -,’ ‘I’ll take you.’ Oz said, Morgan looked at him before grabbing her jacket, Oz followed her.

Oz and Morgan walked along the corridor until they came to your door, the frame cracked and it was slightly open. Oz pulled his gun out and carefully stepped in, Morgan close behind, spotting you leaning against the kitchen counter. ‘Y/N.’ Morgan exhaled, you tilted your head to watch her crouch down before you, Oz calling it in on the radio. ‘They’re going after Selena.’ You said, trying to stand, but the pain shot through your leg, causing you to drop down. ‘Fuck.’ You hissed. ‘They’re going to attack Selena, someone needs to get her.’ You said, jaw clenched at the dull ache. ‘She’s with Melon.’ Oz commented, you bared your teeth. ‘Someone else.’ ‘Did you tell them where she was?’ ‘Do you think I’d end up like this if I did?’ You snapped, head flung back at the pressure building in your leg. ‘Look, go find her, I’ll stay here.’ You stretched your hand out, waiting for somebody to place their phone into it. ‘I’m not leaving.’ Morgan said, you shook your head, sliding so your back was comfortable. ‘Morgan, go with them, they’ll need your brain if anything happens to Selena.’ ‘What are you doing here?’ You asked, she pulled the balloon down in front of her, and the obnoxious pink caused you to lean back. ‘It’s a girl?’ ‘Morgan claims they didn’t have any that said get well soon.’ Oz said, you looked to him, fully aware that Daphne and Adam were there as well. ‘There was no claiming, it was the truth.’ She told you, you chuckled. ‘You still haven’t answered my question.’ You said, their faces dropped. ‘You haven’t been in work for the last week, so we thought we’d come and see you.’ Daphne broke the silence, you arched an eyebrow. ‘Do you guys want to come in?’ You asked, stepping back, allowing them to enter if they wanted. ‘We want to apologise.’ Karadec said, once they were all in, you shut the door. ‘There’s no need.’ You replied, setting the balloon on the table. ‘There is. We mistreated you based on others' opinions, and we shouldn’t have,’ Karadec said. You shook your head, rubbing your lips together. ‘You did what I’ve been used to my entire time in the force, trusted me, it doesn’t bother me anymore.’ You told them the truth, sitting down on, they copied you. ‘But you didn’t pull the trigger.’ ‘No, but I was there when the Captain was killed, everyone sees me as the killer no matter what.’ ‘You caught the killer, though.’ Daphne said, you glanced at her. ‘I did.’ ‘Did he get convicted?’ Morgan asked, and you looked at her, watching as her shoulders slumped. ‘No fingerprints on the gun, no DNA of any kind but mine and the Captain’s.’ You told them, the printed words floating through your brain that you read over and over. ‘On the gun?’ Morgan asked. ‘Yup.’ ‘How?’ ‘He dropped the gun, and I grabbed it to shoot at him when he ran.’ You explained. ‘He must’ve worn gloves.’ ‘No, even then they’d still be trace evidence.’ Oz said, you fell silent as they started to talk amongst themselves, going through the same train of thought you had many times. ‘Who was the shooter?’ Oz asked. ‘Fredrick Doublé.’ You told them, watching as their eyes widened. ‘Double dip?’ Daphne asked. ‘Yup.’ ‘He had enough balls to shoot at you?’ Karadec said, you shook your head. ‘For five seconds, yeah.’ You replied. ‘Why haven’t you gone after him?’ Morgan asked, you moved in your seat. ‘So, I can be classified as a cop killer gone psycho? No thanks.’ You told them.‘And you’re happy with that?’ Karadec asked, you scoffed as you looked at him. ‘No,’ you replied, ‘but his time will come, and I will be the one that puts the cuffs on him.’