It was only supposed to be a one shot! But here we are, because it WOULD. NOT. GO. AWAY. Blame my addiction on the Law and Orders, the CSIs, the Closer, and Reno 911. The information may be misleading, as those shows - and Wikipedia - are my reference points.

Also - I'm working on a time consuming but epic (as in long) fic right now that is my priority. So I can't promise how often I'll update this particular one. It could be weeks. Please don't let that stop you from reviewing, because like everyone else, if I have reviews to look forward to I'm much more likely to keep writing. Also, can anyone tell me the etiquette about reviews? Am I supposed to message everyone that reviews? To anyone that reviewed before, I'm sorry if I'm supposed to but haven't. I've been out of the game for a LONG time. If someone could clear that up for me, I'd be eternally grateful.

WARNINGS; What don't we have? Graphic imagery, ideas, drug use, prostitution, kidnappings, gratuitous stereotypes, and hot guys in uniform. I own none of it, I just rearranged it for my own (and hopefully, your) personal pleasure.

Kurt hung up his peacoat and scarf in his beaten up locker, checking his reflection one last time in the small mirror. All traces of the previous night's eyeliner and lip gloss had been scrubbed off and the copious amounts of gel he'd used to get his hair to spike had swirled down the shower drain. Gone were the slutty clothes, replaced with his uniform of black khakis and a short sleeved blue button down. Complete with shiny badge.

Pleased, he shut the door and replaced the padlock, then turned to Lance Gulino, his generic Brooklyn stereotype of a partner that was holding his coffee. Together, they went into the conference room for their daily meeting with the rest of their squad. They were several minutes early and Kurt felt himself relax into the familiarity of chatter with his co-workers.

It had been a toss-and-turn kind of night. Kurt's life now was far removed from his teenage years. He was still fundamentally the same: He loved musicals and went to one on Broadway at least once a year. He loved fashion, despite the fact he wore a uniform every day, and was addicted to magazines and trashy reality shows. He didn't hide who he was and he still could still come out with a pithy remark and shut someone down faster than most people could blink.

But everyone changes as they get older and Kurt was no exception. The reality of the world hit him in college - there was a lot of talent out there, a lot of ambition and fierceness, but still not a lot of openings. Frankly, being a performer relied more on luck than anything and even if you got the parts life wasn't easy. And, while some artists thrived on those years of scraping by and sacrificing, Kurt simply wasn't one of them. He still wasn't one hundred percent sure why he became a cop exactly, but it worked for him. He was good at it, anyway. His eye for fashionable details translated into crime scene details, and his performing abilities made him one hell of a force in interrogations. Years of dancing workouts made keeping up with physical requirements a breeze, and instead of being - ahem softer - like so many of his classmates at his recent ten year reunion, he was still in excellent physical shape. The added benefit of helping people didn't hurt either.

Things had changed so much that sometimes Kurt barely remembered high school. The only one - other than Finn, of course - that he kept in contact with was Rachel (who handled the tough years much better than Kurt and was now living every page of her dream journal. Whenever Kurt got lonely for that world, all he had to was call her, and spend a few days backstage.) Even the ten year reunion a year ago, with all its usual promises to keep in touch, had ended with a handful of Facebook requests. As a result, he didn't think much about where people ended up. And he hadn't thought of Dave Karofsky in….years.

Having the former football player appear not only in his city, but to be picked up by him as a hooker…. Kurt couldn't pick between anger or humiliation. So he spend a sleepless night going back and forth.

However, despite little sleep and annoyingly erotic dreams that had them both pulling out something other than their badges, he woke up in a better mood. A mood that was crushed when he realized Dave Karofsky was strolling into the room like he owned the place, coming in between a dark haired women and Lieutenant Quinn.

Kurt choked on his latte. Karofsky winked at him, and the roomful of detectives immediately noticed, discreetly glancing at Kurt. He tried to keep his face expressionless, but a snort from his partner attested to his failure.

"All right, let's start." The lieutenant, a short and stocky Irish man with a family history spanning several generations with the NYPD, was not one for pleasantries. "Last nights undercover operation wasn't a complete loss." Again the room glanced at Kurt, again he tried to remain unaffected, and again Lance snorted. "It has come to the attention of us and the FBI that one of our cases is closely linked with theirs. This is Agent Karofosky and Agent Rodriguez, I'll let them brief you with their findings."

Karofsky held up a pile of folders and set them on the table for the detectives to pass around amongst themselves. "A few years ago we started investigating some missing person cases from around the country. The victims were all Caucasian males, between five seven and six feet tall, brown hair, blue eyes, and thin. All in their early and mid twenties." Behind him, Agent Rodriguez was clipping six photos to the case board. The similarities between the victims were immediately apparent. All six had the same (slightly effeminate) boy next door look about them.

They all looked like they could be related to Kurt. And they were all familiar.

Karofsky continued. "All the victims disappeared over the course of the past two years, following a pattern of several weeks of strange behavior that we've identified as symptoms of methamphetamine addiction."

Kurt nodded to himself, as did most of the other detectives. Their victims had also had meth in their systems.

"The victims disappeared with no signs of struggle, and few, if any, personal items were missing. The last victim was the only one who took their cell phone. Eddie DuLong, from Arnold, Missouri. We found the phone abandoned on the side of the road. It was a flip phone, with a note on the back of a receipt. It was tucked inside. It gave us our first big break."

Kurt and the other detectives flipped through their folders until they came across a picture of said evidence. The paper had been through the elements, as had the phone, Karofsky explained at the front of the room, but they'd used their forensic magic to decipher the words.

"NYC. Help me."

Karofsky continued with the briefing. "We immediately focused our efforts in the city, and we've discovered that at least four of the six victims - including Dulong - were pushing meth and other narcotics throughout the city. We've been working with the Narcotics unit investigating the drug angle, but not having much luck. We believe that the same person contacted each of them, got them hooked on the drug, and then either coerced or forced them into coming here. " He looked at the group. "We're hoping you have more information about what happened after that."

The Lieutenant cleared his throat and took over. "All six victims were found in the same alley, apparently dead of overdoses. All had signs of methamphetamine usage, which tox screens confirmed. Initially, it was just another group of junkies taking it too far, but as the victims appearance and locations were similar, we looked deeper. All the victims were prostitutes; all were using the same fake name. Until now, we believed all six were from New York City or the surrounding area. We've been working the hooker angle, Detective Hummel bears a striking resemblance to the vics. He's been undercover on the street, speaking to other prostitutes in the area and the johns as well." He nodded at Kurt, who took over.

"The ones on the street that had minimal contact with the victims actually thought they were the same person, Matthew Cashburn. Two dyed their hair to match the shade of brown the others had. One gave an address to an arresting officer that turned out to be an abandoned lot. We've searched every inch of it, and come up with nothing. According to johns that have - " Kurt paused and took a quick breath "- picked me up thinking I was one of the victims, they often sold drugs as well as sex. Mainly meth, but allegedly heroin and coke as well. Two other prostitutes claim one of the victims…" He glanced at the board in the front "…we've been going by their fake names and order of death. We'll have to do DNA matches….Matthew 5, we've been calling him. The other prostitutes claim that Matthew 5 paid them to go with him into an old factory where a meth lab was set up. They helped him produce a batch and were supposed to help him pack it into a van when another man showed up, screaming at 5 and hitting him. The two guys ran off and we found 5's body two days later."

Kurt continued with what they'd learned, which wasn't much. It was mostly just confirming that the victims had someone acting as a puppet master in the city, using the drug to control them until they were too addicted to be useful anymore and killing them.

Questions back and forth between the New York detectives and the FBI agents filled in more gaps, but ultimately, they were no closer to the crime being solved. Even though he was focused on the task at hand, Kurt's stomach was slowly turning. He had a sick feeling that he knew how this meeting was going to wrap up, and he snuck a glance at Karofsky. The agent was staring at Eve Lauber as she ran through what they'd found at the factory where the supposed meth lab had been. It was hard to identify him as the awkward, self conscious teenager he'd been when he was standing in front of the room. The leftover baby fat had receded, leaving his cheeks and jaw more defined and covered with a days worth of stubble. His eyes were still that strange honey-green color, only less guarded and more intense. He didn't wear a uniform, just a boring, greige button down and striped tie. There were lines on his forehead and near his eyes that hadn't been there before.

The man was beautiful to look at. There was no getting around it. And Kurt would vehemently deny it to anyone who asked, but had to admit to himself that when Karofsky was taking charge of a room, he was nothing but manly swagger and power. And that was kind of Kurt's….thing.

As the meeting came to an end, the Lieutenant made the announcement that Kurt was already expecting. "All right, Hummel, Gulino, you've been at the head of this, work with Rodriguez and Karofsky here and figure out a new game plan. Everyone else, go through both files again. Go back to the sites for new information. Let's get this guy." He dismissed them and they filed out in small groups, chatting amongst themselves. Soon only the four of them were left.

"I'm Lance," Kurt's partner got up and headed towards the latina woman and held out his hand. She looked at him apprehensively and shook it lightly.

"Shauna."

That was all Gulino needed. Even seeing it as often as he had, Kurt was always amazed at his partner's ability to dazzle and charm women. If they didn't hop into bed together before this was all over, Kurt would be stunned. Already Shauna's earlier apprehension was slowly melting, and she was dangerously close to smiling as Gulino asked her what she liked about the city so far.

Kurt wasn't distracted enough by the two of them to miss the bulk that was Karofsky parking himself in the chair next to him. He slowly turned his head until he was staring at the other man, and instantly the urge to smack him returned. Gone was the man in charge, and left in his place was an irritating cockiness.

"You don't wear your outfits to work?" Karofsky asked him.

Kurt didn't bother retorting back, although he had one about the academy accepting special needs students if he needed it. Karofsky looked disappointed and shook his head.

"How do you want to do this?" Kurt said instead, gesturing at the files and trying for a semblance of professionalism. The look on Karofsky's face made him instantly regret his choice of words, but to the man's credit he only called Rodriguez and Gulino over so they could begin. Oddly, Kurt felt a little let down, and then mad at himself for feeling a little let down.

This was going to be hard enough as it was. He didn't need Karofsky flirting with him, too.

There we go. Kind of a boring, no action chapter, I know, but I had to explain all that stuff to get the story moving along. And now I have to go back to working on my REAL story. Good night, all.