Wow... It's been awhile. I'm so sorry about that- things got really hectic.

I have a chapter here, but unfortunately, this particular story had had a bad case of Writer's Block going on.

I am also involved in an RP, which might have been a huge mistake, because it takes my time away from fanfiction.

"Don't ever mess with the Big Dog, 'cause the Big Dog is always right!"

"Sam, where is Noah?" Trisha had begun speaking just as soon as the elevator doors opened, and she had stormed out.

"Trisha! Wait a second, will you?" Sam called over the cubicles. "We are right in the midst of an investigation!"

Dana followed Trisha out of the elevator, and shouted for Sam to answer Trisha's question. In so many words.

Ezra edged across the cubicle to Cosmo. "What's up with that? Who are those two?"

Cosmo shook his head, and stood up. "Trisha- the brunette- is Noah's girlfriend. Dana- the redhead- is her best friend. They're a literal Pinky and the Brain." He shook his head. "Trisha is the Brain."

"Pinky and the Brain? I don't think I follow."

Cosmo stared at Ezra. "Animated TV series. Two genetically altered mice, trying to allegedly take over the world."

The two watched as Trisha strode over to Sam.

"Answer my question! Where is Noah?!"

The senior deputy marshal simply shook his head. "Trisha, there was an... Incident."

"What kind of incident, Sam?" Trisha bit her lip as he still said nothing. "Sam, tell me! Where is Noah?!"

Cosmo watched as Sam put on quite the incredible act- the marshal looked genuinely as if he were going to cry.

Finally, Sam spoke again. "Trisha, I'm so sorry. Noah didn't make it out of New York City."

Trisha simply stared at him, eyes wide and mouth open.

Cosmo blinked. Well, it wasn't entirely untrue- Noah WAS still in New York... But it just didn't feel right, the way he was saying it.

Trisha sat down on a nearby bench, and shudders wreaked her entire body. After several moments, she managed a whisper. "How... How did he-"

Sam sighed, and sat down beside her, putting his arm around her shoulders, and holding her closely, like a father. "John Royce. Bad cop. He was trying to kill an innocent man, but Noah stopped him."

Trisha seemed almost completely stunned. "Noah... He footed the bill, instead. This... This John Royce. He killed Noah. When he... Did Noah suffer much?"

Sam sighed again. "I'd like to think not."

"What did Royce do to him?"

Sam hesitated, before Dana crossed her arms and looked on threateningly at him. "Two .45 cals, one in the torso, one in the shoulder."

Trisha looked down at the floor, and she continued to shudder.

Sam stood up, and helped her to do so. "Do you want to go somewhere more private?"

Trisha nodded slightly, and Sam helped her into the conference room.

Cosmo shook his head, and returned to his desk.

Ezra planted his hands down right on the file on Cosmo's desk.

"What is going on?" He whisper-hissed. "I thought you said that Noah Newman wasn't killed."

Cosmo sighed, and put his head in his hands. "He wasn't. But he doesn't want Trisha to know that he's alive."

Ezra looked up towards the conference room in disbelief. Still in his whisper-hiss, he exclaimed, "Does he he have any idea at ALL what that will DO to her?!"

Cosmo brushed Ezra's hands aside, and began working again. "I'm pretty sure he doesn't."

Ezra's brow furrowed, and he walked towards the redhead. "Dana, was it?"

"Yes, Dana. But I don't know you. What do you want?"

"Uh... I'm Deputy Marshal McCouliff. I... Ummm... I was just wondering... What can you tell me about Noah Newman?"

Dana stared at him halfway through her eyebrows for a few moments, before giving a slight sigh. "Noah was... He meant a lot to Trisha. He- he proposed to her the night before the last case! I can't believe he's dead." She looked up at him. "They knew each other for five years. They admitted that they were dating... Maybe a year ago?"

Ezra shook his head. "Shame what happened. He sounds like he was a good man. Lots of friends here. Good at his job. And engaged... A real shame."

Dana sighed. "Kid, you don't know the half of it."

It was Ezra's turn to look through his eyebrows. Kid?

"Well," Ezra said after a few moments, "I suppose that I had best get back to work."

Meanwhile...

In all of the time that Samuel Gerard had known Trisha Kimble, he had to admit- he had never seen her cry. Genuinely cry. And yet, here they both were, him simply holding her, and rubbing her back while she made a small salty puddle on his shoulder. It wasn't exactly his forte to be... emotional. Sure, there had been instances where he had to console people who had lost others (mostly like the situation now), but since they were actually marshals, he could basically give them his signature Suck-It-Up Sympathy. It wasn't pretty, but pretty wasn't quite as much a concern.

He barely registered a, "I can't believe he's gone.", and his own response, "I know, I know. Nobody ever can."

In their profession, danger and inconsistency was the only consistency. That was a fact of the life they led, that at any given moment, Atropos could change her mind- very, very quickly.

Perhaps that was the irony in it all. That you were so needed and yet also so expendable. There would be a funeral, condolences, your picture would be added to the Wall of the Lost, you would be remembered by all of your teammates for as long as they lived, but the hurt would fade, the cleaning service would wash away all the stains, and work and the world would pretty much keep going- without you.

But Noah was one of the lucky ones. The survivor. The miracle. He could watch the world keep going... when it believed him to be no longer a part of it. Not everyone got the luxury of doing that. In fact, most didn't.

The painful realization of expendability... and there was still a strange, perverted sense of... Okay-ness, if you could call it that. For those like Sam Gerard who had come to terms with the fact that they were expendable to the world. That was a scary thought, and it was best if you didn't dwell on thoughts like that for too long.

Sam Gerard sighed and set his chin lightly on Trisha's head as she continued to sob.

Sometime later...

Noah looked briefly around the room, and took a heavy, shaking breath. Savannah had lit into him when he had told her about not telling Trisha he was alive. He had never been yelled at so hard in his life. Not by Cosmo, not even by Sam. Because Savannah... well, she was not in favor of his decision.

But it was for the best, Noah continued to reassure himself. It was. He knew that it was.

Trisha was young and she was strong, and she didn't deserve to be held to him. She was... well, to be quite frank, she was too good for him.

Trisha could- she would recover. She would learn to love again, and eventually, she might even forget. She would find a good husband, and have children- something that the doctor McClaine told him he would never be able to give. She would be happy. Much happier than if she stayed with him.

He was a deputy marshal, after all. He was used to the loss. He was accustomed to it. Calloused. He could deal with the loss, and the pain, and eventually, he might find happiness someplace, too. Someplace.

Was. Was a deputy marshal. He supposed that it wasn't really very practical to continue trying to fool himself.

Noah sighed. He had heard of stories about those few who were injured, and never made it back to the office.

Unfortunately, and this was one of the beauties of the Life of a LEO, those disabled faced retirement. An early retirement, no matter how appealing it might seem at first, was not what he was looking for. After staying in the hospital for so long, there was nothing more that he wanted to do than get back to his job. And not simply a desk job. He didn't want to be stuck at the office while the rest of his team went out to catch the bad guys. He'd had enough of that... Still, it didn't seem as though he had much of a choice.

Noah looked to the side, out the window.

John Royce. That was who he could blame for this. All of his pain, his suffering, his misery.

John Royce. The dirty cop. The spy. The traitor.

Noah sighed heavily. Savannah had told him that Sam had shot Royce when the DSS agent attempted to kill Sheridan for the second time. Single gunshot wound to the chest. Simple. Effective. Just Sam's style.

Still, Noah couldn't help but think that there was a conflict to all of this. Sykes, the dirty security officer... Kimble, the innocent man. John Royce the dirty cop... Sheridan, the vindicated one. What ever happened to catching actual bad guys?

But the bad guys always seemed closer that you knew.

Noah shuddered. He could still almost see those uncaring, empty eyes staring back at him. So quick to act- so quick to judge...The barrel of the gun. One flash...Two. Pain. Lots of pain... Just thinking about it made his shoulder begin hurting again.

Maybe that was what made him feel so... Betrayed.

He had walked in... Royce had taken one look at him, and that was the end of it. No discussion. No bargaining. No pleading like there was in the movies.

The lack of humanness in Royce...Just shoot a man in cold blood. No matter. Close your eyes to their pain and despair