#ltcainemdpd

"AUNTY RIA AUNTY RIA!"

The second Maria was out of the car, before Maddie was even out twins about Maddie's age came running up to Maria absolutely bursting with questions. Had Santa left presents at her house for them like he had for Maddie at theirs and gramps? Did she know Santa personally because that's what their dad had told them? Had she brought biscuits with her for them?

Maria loved it.

They'd decided that whilst Christmas had been a small affair at Horatio's home with just her, him and Maddie, New years would be at her dad's.

"GRAMPAAAAA" The second Maddie's feet touched the ground she was running to Nick and being scooped up into his arms, the dragon Horatio had gotten her grasped tightly in her hand still. "Grampa, look, look what H got me!" She giggled waving it in his face.

The Bloomsco estate was huge, a large plot of land with a house in the middle, Harvey's farm was directly next to it, also a large plot of land, but partially taken up with the house, the barn, the equipment for processing. Maria's dad's house, and her childhood home was a big old farmhouse style home with 5 bedrooms.

In front of the porch was Maria's Dad, Nick a man pushing mid-sixties, Harvey her brother, Alicia his wife and their kids Erin (14), Thomas (12), twins Arlo and Jimmy (6) and 6 month old baby Maeve.

"Aunty Ria who's THIS?" Jimmy asked as he spotted Horatio.

"Jimmy! Arlo! Give em some room!" Harvey shouted the boys back and they eyed Horatio for a minute before giggling and running back to their Dad.

"Hello darling!" Nick said coming over with Maddie still in his arms and giving her a hug. "And this must be Horatio Caine, the man I've heard so much about. I don't know if you're a hugger or a shaker so-" Nick laughed and held out a hand.

"He LOVES a cuddle gramps he's ALWAYS cuddling momma!" Maddie giggled.

"Hey Cher" Harvey and his brood had wandered over led by Alicia with the baby.

"Harvey, Alicia, this is Horatio." Maria said but the introduction was almost forgotten as she caught baby Maeve's eyes. "And this cannot be my beautiful niece, look how big you've gotten! Look at you, oh I'm going to steal you."

"She's all yours- she's getting heavier by the day and wriggling more." Alicia teased as she handed Maeve over to Maria.

And this is what it was always like, well, at Christmas and occasions especially they were all there, or mostly, all running up to her, greeting her wanting to talk to her to steal her away and now Horatio could be part of it too and he was, instantly swallowed up by the rest of her family.

"Have to hand it to you, Lieutenant Caine," Phoenix starts trying to maintain a professional flare since he is now at her place of work while helping him into a flight-suit, "I really didn't think you'd have the nerve to show up today." Most people when offered a 'thank you' like this from the Navy found a trillion and one excuses to back out of the flight. She is relieved that he had shown up.

"Course, I know what you really came back for." She utters in a tone she prays the others can't hear thanks to her proximity to the man. Phoe glances around the room and leans in, encroaching a little on his personal space. "My number." Sure, they liked to do things a little out of the ordinary order. It just so happened to keep things exciting. "And if you don't need this, I'll even write it on your arm." She offers, holding out what other pilots, and civilians alike, would understand is a barf bag.

@ltcainemdpd continued from here!

Calleigh pulled off her jacket, the bruise on her shoulder was healing nicely, and she smiled. " Thank you Horatio. Just another day but I feel good about this one. I just hope she gets the help she needs." She said, folding her jacket over her arm. " You going home or back to the office? I think I'm due for a hot shower and some tea." It had been a long week for them, chasing down the killer and helping a battered wife.

               the   cold   air   bites   at   her   skin,   but   she   needs   it.      it   was   hard   sometimes,   this   job.      she’d   wanted   to   be   in   special   victims   for   years,   since   she   was   a   teenager.      when   the   truth   was   revealed   about   how   she   came   to   exist   in   this   world   she   knew.      she   wanted   to   spend   her   days   catching   the   kind   of   men   like   her   father   had   been.      she   doesn’t   know   anything   about   her   father,   and   she   doesn’t   know   if   she   ever   wants   to.      all   she   knows   is   that   she   hopes   karma   gets   it’s   justice   regarding   her   father.      in   the   meantime   though,   she   will   continue   doing   what   she   does   best.      putting   the   bad   guys   away.

continued from here {x}

The sound of Horatio’s voice cut through the low hum of conversation, steady and unmistakable even across the tiled expanse of the lobby. Matt turned toward it, the faintest smile tugging at his mouth before he even registered the words. The click of shoes on polished floor, the shift of air as the crowd parted — all of it painted a picture clearer than sight ever could.

“Horatio,” he greeted, the warmth in his tone tempered by a hint of relief. “It’s been a while.”

He reached out a hand, finding the edge of the counter before using it to orient himself toward where the other man stood. The scent of salt and heat lingered in the air — Miami had a way of clinging to you, even indoors. “I didn’t mean to just show up like this,” he said, the smile flickering again. “But I was hoping to catch you. There’s a case… something that might cross over from New York jurisdiction.”

A pause, quieter now. “And maybe,” he added with a small playful laugh, “I thought I'd find out about the Miami heat I've heard so much about...and humidity. How do you stand it?!"

Starter post for @ltcainemdpd

New York didn’t sleep. That was nothing new. But lately, Elliot Stabler couldn’t remember the last time he had.

The Organized Crime office was a revolving door of faces: cops, feds, intel guys with too much coffee and not enough sense. Paperwork stacked on desks that hadn’t been cleaned since the Giuliani era, phones ringing, the constant murmur of voices trading intel, names, numbers.

And above all of it, the quiet hum in his chest, the one that said this case was bigger than most. He could feel it, the way you feel a storm rolling in long before the rain hits.

Cuban cartels bleeding into Queens. Trafficking lines connecting Miami to New York are like arteries feeding poison straight into the city’s veins. He’d read the files, the reports with names redacted in thick black bars, but the meat of it, what mattered wasn’t on the paper.

It was in the blood spilled on the street, the bodies showing up in alleys, and the whispers from informants too scared to say more than half a sentence before clamming up.

And now, apparently, it was in a partnership.

Stabler leaned against the scarred edge of his desk, arms crossed, watching the bullpen from beneath that familiar furrow of his brow. They told him Miami was sending someone up, a guy who’d worked more drug cases than half the Bureau combined. He didn’t need the pep talk. He didn’t need the handshake introductions. What he needed was someone who could keep pace when the ground started moving fast.

The door swung open, the air shifting with it, and every head in the room seemed to turn just slightly. The man in sunglasses stepped through like he already owned the place. Even in New York, especially in New York, Elliot recognized authority when he saw it. Cool, collected, the kind of presence that didn’t shout but still filled the room.

Horatio Caine. Miami PD.

Stabler pushed off the desk, boots heavy on the tile, closing the distance in a few measured strides. He didn’t bother with small talk; wasn’t his style, never had been. He stuck out a hand, grip firm, blue eyes cutting steady across the space between them.

“Detective Elliot Stabler. Organized Crime.” His voice carried that gravel edge, years of shouting over sirens and gunfire, but there was no lack of respect in it. “They tell me you’re the guy who knows these Miami pipelines inside out.”

A moment in time paused before a crooked, tired half-smile tugged at his mouth. “Guess that makes us partners. At least until we figure out why bodies are stacking up in my city.”

He jerked his chin toward the evidence board behind him, maps and mugshots pinned up in a chaos only detectives seemed to understand. “Queens. Brooklyn. Staten Island. Shipments hitting all three, all pointing back south. Somebody down in your backyard is getting cozy with someone in mine.”

Stabler’s tone sharpened, not unkind but cutting through the noise like a knife. “I don’t care about jurisdiction. I don’t care about who gets the collar. I care about shutting this thing down before another kid OD’s in Bushwick or another cop takes a bullet in a buy-bust gone bad. You’re here ‘cause they say you know how to read these people. I’m here ‘cause I know this city.”

He stepped back, arms folding again, that intensity in his eyes never dimming. “So. Let’s get to it, Horatio. You tell me what Miami’s bleeding into New York, and I’ll tell you how to cut it out at the root.”

Morbid Curiosity // Still Accepting @ltcainemdpd said: does the past ever keep you up at night?

Before he responds to Lieutenant Caine's question, Isaac takes a moment to carefully consider his answer. There's an impulse to lie, but it would be both unnecessary and pointless. Horatio's sharp blue hues could see right through him, and he was his friend. A touch of vulnerability wouldn't kill him.

"Frequently, and in more ways than one." The doctor's reply comes with an awkward shrug before he folds his arms across his chest. "Sometimes I just can't get comfortable, you know? Most beds are just too fucking soft, not at all like the bunks we had when we were kids. That's why I like sleeping on the floor."

Isaac presses his back to the wall behind him and looks upward, blankly staring at a pockmark in the ceiling tile. It's easier than looking Horatio in the eye and thus, easier to be honest.