Domestic disputes were one of the hardest calls for police officers to respond too. Much like at a traffic stop, they could go wrong in the blink of an eye. A cop needed to take extra special care when they answered a domestic dispute call. Even a shouting match between two individuals could turn ugly.

Within seconds the responding officers arrival, they had to assess the volatility of the situation, and decide on a course of action that'd assure the safety of themselves, the victims, and any innocent bystanders that could be caught in the crosshairs should the situation escalate.

Cop's didn't have the luxury of time when responding to situations. They couldn't second guess their decisions.

People died if a cop hesitated.

One second was all it took for a situation to turn deadly. A rising percentage of cops being killed while either answering a domestic violence call or serving a warrant or protective order was proof of that.

Officer Gil Arroyo understood the risks of his job. He accepted them as part of being a cop. He never shied away from the truth or hid the fact that his job was dangerous. He did everything he could to minimize the danger — for himself, as well as any officers or civilians involved in the situation he found himself. Jackie made him promise that when he told her he was applying to the police station.

"You do everything you have to do to see that you come home every night." Her arms were folded across her chest and there was that militant look in her eye that said she wouldn't accept less than his promise. "I don't want to end up a young widow."

Gil managed to keep that promise. His career was built around doing what was needed to protect people. That was why he became a cop in the first place. To serve and protect. To do that he needed to make split-second decisions. If he didn't, people got hurt.

Or worse.

He accustomed himself to having to make split-second decisions after the first domestic call he responded too.

A husband held his wife at gun point and was threatening to kill them both unless their fifteen year old son was returned to him. Gil arrived on the scene and assessed the situation as a potentially fatal one if they didn't find a way to get the gun away from the man. Sam Waterson, he recalled as he stopped at a light. And his wife was Edna.

Gil had no clear shot and no way to sneak up behind Sam to disarm him that wouldn't risk Edna's life. The best course of action, he decided, was to give the man what he wanted.

Soon as Sam saw his son, David, he lowered the gun. Started babbling about how sorry he was and that he'd never shoot his wife. No, he just liked smacking her around until her face was a swollen, bloody mess.

Officers swarmed in and arrested Sam without any shots fired. His split-second decision to have David brought to the scene kept Edna from becoming another name tacked onto a growing list of victims killed by their partner.

Edna was the first in a long line of abuse victims he helped. Others followed, some in much worse condition than she had been in.

There was the woman who had her feet burned by a hot iron because she kept trying to leave her domestic partner.

The husband whose wife would taser him and beat him with a broomstick whenever she went off her meds.

The father who beat his children nightly with a belt so they learned obedience and discipline.

The list went on and on and on.

Some domestic incidents he resolved without any additional violence. Like the one he just left. A simple shouting match between two parties. He got the boyfriend to agree to leave until he and his boyfriend could calm down enough to talk rationally.

Other times...

Gil heaved a sigh as he recalled all the disturbance calls that didn't end well.

The department issued new policies for answering domestic violence calls all the time. They sent him and his fellow officers for additional training in how to respond to these disputes. What to say, what to do, what to look out for.

All the training in the world didn't eliminate things like human error or fate, though. Abusers were dangerous individuals. Most craved power and control over their victims. Some were predatory psychopaths who simply enjoyed inflicting pain. Cops took all that away when they arrested them. Making us the bad guys in their warped view.

His radio screamed to life, interrupting his dark musings. Not that that was all that surprising. The police radio hadn't remained quiet much the last few days. Not with the hunt for a serial killer being called The Surgeon fully underway.

"I need any available units for a domestic disturbance on the corner of West 13th."

Gil's gut clenched. He didn't even have to radio for the exact address of the disturbance. He already knew it'd belong to the last brownstone on the block.

Not again, he thought as he grabbed the radio to notify dispatch he'd respond. This made the third call in a week. The tenth in the last month. Gil had no idea how many it made in total.

Something warned him he didn't want to know.

He made Adrianna promise she'd pack her things and go to her mother's the last time he responded to a call. Obviously, she decided to ignore that. Not all that surprising, he realized as he made a turn at the next light. Most victims ended up staying with their abuser. Many because they had nowhere else to go or no way to support themselves. Some, like Adrianna, stayed because they believed it was the last time their partner would hit them.

Until the next time happens and is worse than the last time.

Gil pulled to a stop in front of the brownstone at the same time as another patrol unit. Relief went through him at seeing the other officers — Jablonsky and Whittier — joining him on the call. Having more than one officer on a domestic dispute reduced the likelihood of someone getting hurt. He nodded to them as he stepped from his patrol car.

"How many times this for you, Arroyo?"

"Fourth." Maybe the fifth. He honestly had lost count at this point. "You, Jablonsky?"

"Third." He nodded towards his partner. "This is Jo's seventh."

Jo stared up at the brownstone. "I'm starting to feel like this place has revolving doors on it."

Jablonsky grunted. "If Adrianna would follow through on charges we could put Eduardo away for a while."

Gil didn't bother to tell them that he tried to get her to do that the last time he responded to a call. Soon as she was released from the hospital she went to the station to drop the charges against Eduardo.

Same as she did all the other times they arrested him.

"She won't press charges on him." Resigned to that fact, Jo made her way towards the steps. "She's convinced herself he'll suddenly decide to stop beating her."

"Have to hope she will reach a point where she gets tired of it and either leaves him or follows through on the charges."

Jo mumbled a noncommittal reply as she walked up the steps. Gil made to follow but his shoulder radio blared to life, stopping him.

"Any available units to a possible 903 at house number 3 in the Upper East Side."

"You go ahead and respond to that one," Jablonsky told him. "Jo and I can handle this."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Gil reached for his shoulder radio as he turned back to his patrol car. "Dispatch, copy. Show 52 responding."

"Copy that, 52."

It took Gil ten minutes to reach the Upper East Side. He parked across the street and sat there a moment, staring at the house that sat third in from the rest lining the block. From the outside, nothing appeared out of the ordinary.

It was simply a quiet home in one of New York's more ritzier neighborhoods. Not the sort of place one expected to find a dead body. Not usually, anyway. Looks, though, Gil learned, were often misleading. What might appear on the outside as something nice and quiet could be anything but on the inside.

He exited the car and made his way to the front door. His knock was answered less than a minute later by a middle-aged man in a red sweater.

"Can I help you, Officer?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, Sir," Gil said with a pleasant smile. "We received a call about a dead body at this location."

"Did you?" The man's eyes blinked wide. Total surprise. However, a kernel of doubt formed in Gil's gut. Something seemed... off. He just couldn't figure out what. "I cannot imagine who would have made such a call."

"You didn't make the call then?"

"I assure you, Officer, nobody phoned in a dead body from this address."

"Would you mind if I look around?" Gil thought he detected a minute change in the man's expression. The pleasantness giving way to something darker. More predatory in nature. He chalked it off as annoyance at being bothered at this time of night over what was quickly turning out as some prank. "Just to make sure nothing's amiss?"

"Certainly." The man backed away to allow Gil to enter. "Perhaps you'd like a cup of tea, first? Rather cold out tonight."

"That'd be nice, thank you."

Gil watched the man head into a small room at the end of the foyer. A tea service was laid out on a table that gleamed beneath the light cast by a chandelier that cost more than his house. Everything around him spoke of wealth and privilege. The man sent him an easy smile as he poured tea into a delicate china cup.

His Arroyo Sense, as Jackie liked to call it, tingled. Something wasn't right but he couldn't place his finger on what. There was nothing inherently threatening about the man's demeanor. He seemed benevolent. Pleasant. His body language suggested he was relaxed.

Harmless.

Slippers made a whisper of sound on the marble. Gil turned to see a young boy, all of ten if he had to take a guess at his age, coming to a stop beside him. Fear shadowed his face and trembled in his body. Pain and misery filled the eyes he lifted to Gil. The kid knew something and quite clearly wanted to tell it to Gil but was too afraid to speak. He plastered a gentle smile on in hopes it'd reassure the boy and get him to tell him whatever was bothering him.

"What's up, kid?"

"You should take out your gun."

His voice was hardly a whisper. Gil's brow furrowed. He couldn't have heard the kid right.

"Excuse me?"

"My father, he's going to kill you."

Those words would change their lives, forever.

A/N: Hello, all, and welcome! This is set during the flashback portion of the pilot episode and fills in what Gil was doing prior to going to the Whitly home on a supposed prank call.

This is my first entry on my Bad Things Happen Bingo card for the prompt Domestic Abuse.

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