Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

All his life had felt like he’d been pulled into a tornado. Being thrown through the air without an end in sight. People and opportunities drifting by, too fast for him to grab. Every now and then something hit him, throwing him out of his course or grounding him for a few short moments, before the winds takes him with it again.

Now, as people around him were crying and shaking, begging in a language he did not understand, clinging to each other in desperation, he felt like being in the eye of the storm.

For a short moment, he did not feel aimless. He had a purpose. Helping those poor young women, finding whoever is behind it. Bu the knows there is something big on it’s way, something to throw him off his feet short before he reached the finish line.  It had always been like this.

Why should it be different this time?

They’d been close to arresting Jenkins so many times but never close enough. Everytime they thought they got a hint, he vanished into thin air and the evidences were gone with the wind or lead into a dead end. It felt impossible to ever reach his goal, to get this terrible man, put him into handcuffs and make sure he’s never released again.

By now, Detective Vallon felt like he knew Jenkins better than himself. A ruthless criminal, who always got what he wanted. Manipulating and corrupting whenever he feels like but never dirtying his own hands, giving the police no other choice than to let him run around free.  He was good, the detective had to admit, but he liked to think that he was better. He just hadn’t been able to show it. He’d been at Jenkins heels since he’d got the promotion to ‘Detective’. And by now, it had become a cat and mouse game between his Team and Jenkins. And most times, Jenkins was winning.

At least, Detective Vallon mused, they’d a small success now. They’d managed to stop a suspicious truck coming right the Eurotunnel and had been right with their assumptions. In the back of the truck weren’t some cheap, in china manufactured, clothes but a bunch of people. Mostly women, too young to be called adults. The way they ducked their heads in protection, clung to each other and screamed as the police officers tried to free them, was just another evidence for the ruthlessness Jenkins was operating with.

But, even though Vallon was glad to have saved those innocent people from a life in agony, he knew that this was just the top of the iceberg. A pile of snow in the Antarctic, more likely. There were more, so many more and they would not be able to find them all in time. Jenkins was terrorizing lifes for about two decades by now, having stepped up his game to human trafficking about six years ago.
The Detective knew that he won’t find a clue here, no evidence or connection to Jenkins. He would not do such a stupid mistake. And even if the driver of the truck would talk, which he doubted deeply, but even if he did, it would surely only lead them towards one of Jenkins many contacts.

So Porthos did not even bother with questioning the driver. He’d got more important work to do. Once he had made sure that everything went it’s supposed way, he climbed back into his car to drive back to the station and consult his team and chief.

It had been two days since the truck had bee found and as thought, there was no new lead. The truck driver would face justice but he was not suicidal enough to talk and give them an information about his boss. They could not truly blame him for it. There was no one Porthos was aware of who had lived longer than a few days after talking to the police over Jenkins.

The spacious conference room they were currently accompanying seemed empty between the three of them. The many files, notebooks and pictures that were laid out on the long table made it look messy, causing Porthos' neck hairs to stand up as he walked into the room with three cups of coffee in his hands. If you spend so much time in a room you don’t notice how uncomfortable it got until you stepped out of it once and came back later. The air was thick, so Porthos opened a window once he’d put the cups down.

Amelia was barely registering him, currently concentrating on a new report that has gotten in. Caleb on the other hand was shooting Porthos a thankful smile from where he was sat on top of the desk. Porthos was so close to commenting on it, but bit back a comment as they’ve had this conversation already a dozen times. Sometimes, Porthos mused, Caleb was only doing it to annoy him, even though he claimed that sitting on a table was much more comfortable than on a chair. It were these times that Porthos questioned his sanity. There would have been no need to invent chairs if tables were truly that comfortable.

“Anything new?” Porthos asked then, falling down in one of the many spare chairs. Because that’s what they were made for. Sitting.

Amy did not even look up, just shook her head and kept on reading her file. It had been a rather rhetorical question anyways, as Porthos had only been gone for about fifteen minutes. So he was surprised as Caleb spoke up.

“Actually, yes.” This earned him even Amelia’s attention, who’s head shut up in interest, file forgotten. “I’ve got a call from an informer. Jenkins is planning something big, he says. Said, we’ve still got a few good months until it takes places.”

“And what is this ominous ‘something big’?” Amy arched her brows, leaning forward on the desk so strains of her long, red hair dangled over the opened file. Porthos' eyes fell down to the file for a second, now able to explain where all these mysterious hairs in their file cabinet came from. He then pointed his concentration back to Caleb.

Caleb shrugged though, taking a sip from his coffee. “He didn’t know yet, but he’s working on it.”

“Great. So we’ve got… nothing?”, she asked and leant back into her chair, a single hair lying right on the open file. Porthos' finger twitched, but he did not move to remove it. Instead he glanced to the whiteboard where they had put the most important names, places or dates of the Jenkins era.

“Do you know how many months exactly?” He asked, jumping to his feet as he thought to have founding something. He stepped closer to the whiteboard as the blonde Detective answered.

“Said something about September, but couldn’t promise that it was right.” Caleb answered warily. He wasn’t sure where Porthos' thought were going. He couldn’t remember anything important happening in September. As he shot a questioning look to Amy, she just shrugged, just as clueless as Caleb.

But Porthos was intrigued, starring through the whiteboard as if Jenkins hid right behind it.

This just has gotten personal.

It had been personal before, but only from his side. Porthos had followed Jenkins for years, had always wanted to finally get justice. But now he felt his stomach churn at the possibility that Jenkins had taken the many enforcement orders and raids Porthos had incited personal as well.

He should feel scared or intimidated. Being a rival of Jenkins rarely ended well. But it only spurred him on, inflaming the fire inside him.

He would get Jenkins and he would throw him into a cell before the calendar flipped to September.

Six months. Six months before Jenkins would do even worse, ‘bigger’ things, six months until Porthos would finally get Justice for what Jenkins had done to him and his family. Six months for his revenge.

Chapter Text

He felt the vibration of the beat beneath his feet, consuming him. While he swung his hips, he closed his eyes, his body pressed tightly to the others. The music was too loud, he thought, but it didn’t stop him. His hands were wrapped around Daniel’s neck, knowing that he liked it that way. They all did. As Aramis opened his eyes again, his pelvis was currently pressed against Daniel’s hardening crotch, teasing. Aramis grinned at him as he moved his hips in a circling motion before he arched his back, showing off his toned chest.

Mike's eyes were wide with lust as he looked at Aramis , moving his sinful body to the beat. Sweat was glistening on the golden skin, making it shine bright whenever a spotlight fell onto him. His clothes were barely covering the most important parts, too tight and too revealing, forcing all the eyes on him. And Aramis enjoyed it. He liked the attention, the looks. Loved the praise and the money.

As Aramis’ thin, delicate fingers were roaming over Mike's chest, the man could not hold back any longer. His hands flew to Aramis ’ sides, squeezing them gently. Aramis looked at him with a warning look but did not stop his porn-like movements. Similar to most other Clubs they had a ‘No-Touching’ police as well, but it wasn’t taken as strictly as elsewhere. Aramis let many things through, not wanting drive off the good customers. And oh, Mike was a good customer. He always paid well, gave good tips to the bartenders and always was clean and well kept.

Mike answered Aramis’ glance with a shrug before something changed in his features. He did not let his hands were they had been, as he usually did, nor did he pull away. Instead Mike moved his hands downwards, one grabbing Aramis’ buttock tightly the other groaping at his crotch.

Aramis yelped at this and tried to stand up, but the grip tightened and kept him in place as long as he didn’t want to tear something at his crotch.

“Hands off!” Aramis demanded, a angry hiss to his voice while his hands pushed against Mike’s chest. But the man did not think about it. He’d drunken more than usual, had been more desperate since the beginning and Aramis should never have agreed to give him a private show. But all he’d seen was the thick wallet in the man’s trousers.

“C’mon babe, don’t act all shy now.” Mike slurred, his alcohol stained breath hitting Aramis’ in the face as the Dancer was pulled even closer to his customers.

Noticing that he won’t be able to fight Mike off on his own, Aramis did the only thing he could think of.

“MAT!”, he shouted only to find a hand being clasped above his lips a moment later. Mike’s face has twisted into an angry grimace, brows drawn together as his hand successfully silenced Aramis and forced him to breath through his mouth. Aramis tried to bite him but could not even open his mouth against the tight grip. With a sickening feeling he felt the hand on his arse move inside his shorts, long fingers drawing along his crack.

Just as he was wondering if someone had even heard his shout over the noise in the club, he heard the tell telling sound a curtain being ripped open. As he was positioned with his back towards it, Aramis only saw Mike's eyes widen and felt how his hands were suddenly gone. Aramis did not wait a second to scramble to his feet and took a few wobbly steps away form his offender. Mat was rushing past him, his broad shoulder almost blocking his whole view onto Mike . But he could still see enough to know that the customer has taken a nasty hit into his face.

Mat’s hand was curled tightly into Mike's collar, forcing the man to stand up and Aramis watched with satisfaction as open fear was written into the customers face.

“He hasn’t paid yet.” Aramis said before Mat could kick this ass out. The bouncer nodded and grabbed into Mike's pocket to withdraw his wallet. Not letting Mike out of sight for a moment, Mat shoved the wallet into Aramis’ hand, who pulled out two hundred pounds with satisfaction and than gave the wallet back. He was no thief after all.

Aramis didn’t follow Mat as he hauled the customer outside. Instead he grabbed his discarded clothes from the floor to head back towards the locker room. There, he sunk into his chair in front of the styling mirror. He sighed as he looked at himself, sitting there half naked, hair dishevelled and sweaty.

He didn’t notice how lost he had become until he heard Mat’s deep voice, without having noticed that he’d entered the locker room.

“Are you hurt?”

Aramis shook his head. No. Even though he still felt a little shaken. Of course, things like this happened more often than not. Mat had to kick out a customer at least twice each night. But it weren’t often that the man went that far and had so much control. Most times they grabbed at the dancer’s asses or crotches and the Strippers could then just walk away to get a Bouncer. On the other hand, even though it happened rarely, it still wasn’t the first time that Aramis had been assaulted in such a way and he really should have learnt to live with it by now.

 “Your shift is almost over. I could drive you back home?” Mat then proposed, remembering Aramis of a time a few years ago. A time where Mat had always been so gentle, so caring towards him. A time in which Aramis had still been naïve and young, oh so so young. Mat’s behaviour had changed once Aramis grew up. As Aramis’ features grew more manly and less boyish the older man had lost his interest in the Stripper and searched for his next, younger affair. And Aramis had been so stupid to believe Mat’s empty words back then, had really thought that the Bouncer would truly love him. Aramis huffed. He’d been so stupid.

“No thank you, Mat. I am well capable of looking after myself.”

“Didn’t look like that back in there. Or why did you shout my name? I doubt it was for the sake of old times?”

Aramis rolled his eyes in annoyance, before he observed Mat through the reflexion in the mirror.
Mat was standing only a few steps behind the padded, lilac chair which Aramis was currently occupying. He was leaning against the grey wall, arms folded in front of his broad chest as a smug grin was plastered on his face.

Only looking at him like this, Aramis understood what his younger self had seen in the Bouncer. His arms, especially when they were folded like this, were thrice the size of his, thick and muscular and ended in big, strong hands. His face was sharp and hard, but still handsome with two bright blue eyes in the centre of it.  And oh this muscular chest… Aramis had loved the feeling of his slender fingers roaming over this endless sea of muscles and flesh.

But on the inside, Mat was just a brat. There was not much more to say over him, his character as dull as the grey wall he was leaning against.

Aramis did not think that Mat’s stupid question even deserved a verbal answer so he only stood up, grabbed his bag where he threw in his few personal things before he headed towards the back exit.

But as he felt Mat following him, Aramis stopped in his steps and turned towards the taller man.

“What?” Aramis hissed. He was tired, his muscles arched and he wanted nothing but to brush of the dirty feeling of Mike 's hands. He really did not need Mat annoying him even more.

“Mike could still be waiting outside. I will walk you home. Have you forgotten about your little Rendezvous with the boss the day after tomorrow? Can’t let anything happen to your pretty till then, can I?”

Aramis sighed. Mat had a point there. He wasn’t really scared for himself. He’d grown up in an area similar to this one, knew how to defend himself (most times at least). Moreover, he always got his gun in his bag, should something worse happen. But, even though he could take a few hits, he could not risk being bruised or battered in any way when he had a meeting with the Boss coming up.

So he nodded slightly in agreement and turned around to go as he saw the satisfied grin on Mat’s face.

Chapter Text

Porthos could scream and shout, could punch a hole into a wall or rip out every single strain of hair Amelia got on her head. It had been almost a week since their meeting and they didn’t get any further since then. Turning in circles and running after ghosts. Porthos exhausted. His head throbbed and his muscles arched with every movement. His back killed him. All this sitting around… he hadn’t been made for it. He was a man of action but without any new hints there was nothing he could do.

“Oh come on!” He exclaimed as he flapped the file down onto his desk with a thud, earning a few curious glances from neighbouring tables. “What?!” Porthos asked, voice much louder than necessary to carry through the office, opens open in an invitation for a fight. The other detectives just lowered their heads again, some muttering something under their breaths.

Porthos was ready to strode over to Raymond and ask him what his fucking problem is as he snickered. But the opening of a door turned his attention away from the innocent Cop and towards the person entering.

“You.” Porthos growled, eyes focused on the red haired woman, who’s bright smile faded at the harsh greeting.

“Me?” Amy asked, furrowing her brow, swinging the bag from her left shoulder and putting it down on her desk, the one facing Porthos’.

“Your hair is everywhere!” Porthos explained throwing the file he’d retrieved from the cabinet onto her desk for her to see. Amelia did not even acknowledge it, her big green eyes were fixed on her coworker instead. Porthos suddenly felt uneasy, avoiding her gaze as it seemed like her eyes saw right into his soul.

“When was the last time you’ve eaten a proper meal?” Amy then asked, concern lacing her voice as deep lines formed on her brow. Her painted red finger pointed towards the trash bin by the side of their desks, leading Porthos’ eyes towards the various wrappings of sandwiches and stained To-Go Coffee cups.

He shrugged as he plumbed down in his chair. He reached over his desk, grabbing the discarded file and pulled it back to him. With a grimace on his face he cleaned the file of any remaining hair and opened it to the page he needed.

“And when have you last had a real night of sleep? More than six hours, I mean.” Amy questioned further. She was now supporting her weight on her arms who laid on her desk, her body leaning over to Porthos’ desk as she studied him.

“I’m fine.” Porthos dismissed, already more concentrated on the file than on his comrade.

In return, Amelia huffed but let it be. Lunch was just over and it would be useless to try to get Porthos to rest now. But she would try again by noon. And if necessary, she would drag him into his bed by his earlobe. For now she left Porthos in peace and returned to her own work.

It was about half an hour later, the both of them already wondering when Caleb would ever return from his break, when the elevator that lead to the open plan office, opened it’s doors with a ‘ping’. Caleb was almost running through the barely opened doors, his hair was ruffled and Porthos’ eyes flickered towards the dark circles beneath his armpits.

“You now you’re supposed to change clothes after a workout.” Porthos commented, but the lightness of his statement did not transfer to his tone or mimic. He hadn’t missed the serious expression on Caleb’s face – something that was quiet rarely to be seen.

Caleb ignored the comment, knowing that Porthos did not mean it, as he came to a halt in front of their desks.

“Detective Fere is in the hospital. Several gunshot wounds in his torso. He’s not been conscious since he’d been brought in.” Caleb reported with a tight voice, his hands fidgeting with the smartphone in between them.

Porthos noticed a crack on the display which was new, wondering if Caleb had thrown it onto the ground. The blonde detective tended to throw things when frustrated – Porthos knew from first hand experience

“And?” Porthos raised his eyebrows. Of course it never was pleasant if a colleague was injured, but as far as he was concerned neither of them really knew Detective Fere. He sat on the floor beneath them and so there weren’t many opportunities to get to know him. Porthos remembered to have worked worked with him at one or another raid, but that was it. It didn’t explain Caleb’s agitated behaviour.

At first Caleb glanced at the two detectives as if they’d lost their senses, but then something seemed to turn in his head and he nodded to himself.

“Right. Of course.” Caleb muttered to himself as he pushed a loose strain of wet hair out of his face. His eyes bounced from Amelia to Porthos and back as he started to explain.

“He’d been undercover in Jenkins’ organization for over six months now. He’d been the informant I’ve told you about. I’ve totally forgotten that you didn’t know about it, sorry. However, Fere had came quite close to Fere and I really thought – I really thought we would get this bastard with his help. But as it seems, they’ve found out. Who knows how long they’d already suspected him to be a Cop. Maybe everything he’d told us was just a trap built by Jenkins. And as the hospital doubts that he will be responsive any time soon, there’s no way to question him.”

Porthos nodded as he worked over the new information. He’d already suspected that Caleb’s informant was a Cop but he never asked him. The fewer that knew the real identity the better. But this time the secrecy hadn’t been as reliable at it should have been.

“Any clue how they found out? Do you think there’s a rat in the department?” Amy asked, her voice now hushed as she glanced around the room as if to find the traitor now.

Caleb shrugged, his hip leaning against Amelia’s desk as he crossed his arms in front of his broad chest. “I don’t know. As I’ve told you, he’s not conscious so it will be impossible to get to know how it happened or who’d shot him.”

“Why not execute him with a bullet through the brain?” Porthos asked and he knew that he’d formulated the question a bit too harsh as Caleb winced at the words. But the question was justified. If Jenkins Gang wanted to get rid of someone they usually shot him in the head, dead centre. Or at least they made sure that the victim would never breath again. They would not let their target survive and end in hospital to snitch on them.

“Maybe it wasn’t Jenkins.” Amy put in.

“Oh it was.”

answered, wordlessly pulling out a blood-stained handkerchief out of his pocket and laid it onto Amy’s desk for his colleagues to examine. It was put in a plastic bag, a number written on the package in Caleb’s messy handwriting. Thought there was a lot of blood on the fabric, they were still able to make out the blue circle with a “J” in the middle of it. Jenkins symbol. Seeing such a handkerchief wasn’t uncommon for the detectives. Jenkins had a weird fable with these, planting them on some of his crime scenes when it was important to him that either rival gangs or the police knew that it was his work.

“Maybe they were disturbed.” Porthos mused. The others shrugged in agreement. It was the most logical explanation.

“However. Jenkins now knows that we know of his plans. He’s a step ahead of us. Again.” Caleb kicked against the leg of Amy’s desk, causing a box of pencils to fall over.

“Ey!” She frowned, put the box back upright and the pencils in it. “What is up with you boys and your temperaments?”

“Sorry.” Caleb muttered, helping her pick up the pencils that had fallen onto the ground and put them back into the box. “What are we going to do now?” He then asked and sat down to the edge of the table.

“Getting this Cop-Killer arrested.” Amy answered as if it was the most logical thing on the world.

“Technically, Fere is still alive. So the culprit isn’t a Killer. Yet.” Caleb added unnecessarily.

Porthos decided to ignore the comment. “Where did the attack happen?”

“Hackney. Casterton Street 53.”

Porthos, having the feeling that it sounded familiar, turned towards his computer, opened a data base and typed the address in. He scanned the entries fastly, finding exactly what he’d thought he would find.

“Here. Casterton Street 53. Two murders, several brawls and a case of prostitution had been reported at this address. And guess who’s name pops up in three of the cases?”

“Who?” Amy asked, too impatient to guess even though she could imagine who’s name it was.

“Mathew Ackroyd.” A winning grin was spread over Porthos’ face as he glanced at his two colleagues, who had similar expressions plastered on their faces.

“This screams for a raid, doesn’t it?” Caleb claps his hands together, ready to do something, anything, to pay Jenkins back.

And raiding one of his many establishments, in which one of his henchmen was obviously involved in, was a good way of payment.

Chapter Text

As Aramis walked into the room the Party was already going on pretty good. Some electronic music blasted through the speakers, uncomfortably loud. It didn’t seem to trouble anyone else though. Young people in too tight clothes with not enough fabric were pressed against each other tightly. Who didn’t have a glass in his hand or was drinking straight from a bottle was gulping down pills or snorting different kinds of powder off the bar or other people’s bodys.

Aramis wrinkled his nose as he pushed through the dancing mass, tripling over his own foot every then and now, getting an elbow almost into his face and almost falling onto the floor until he finally reached the door towards the stairwell. The door was heavy and he needed to push with all his weight to open it enough to slip through and into the familiar stairwell. The scent of urine and vomit reached his nose and made him gag, so Aramis decided to only breath through his mouth as he took two steps at a time. The door closed behind him with a thud, the music now only a faint noise.

The stairs were uneven and he wanted to hold onto something but the railing was too filthy to touch it. After walking up two floors, he was slightly out of breath as he came to a halt in front of a tall, broad shouldered bodyguard whom he hadn’t seen before.

“Where’s Athos?” Aramis frowned. Just yesterday on their walk home Mat had told him that Athos would be there and Aramis really had looked forward to seeing the man again. Not in a romantic kind of way. Oh now, Athos was completely into women and Aramis didn’t want him THAT way anyways. But he seemed like a pretty decent man even though they’d only met a couple of times. Athos had been one of the few people in their society who didn’t treat him like a piece of meat. Athos did not think himself superior only because he worked closely with Daniel.

Actually, Aramis did not really know what Athos thought. When he looked back he couldn’t remember that the man had even spoken more than ten words over their twenty minute long conversation. Maybe it was that what Aramis had liked. Most people that worked with Daniel were machos who liked to hear their own voices far too much. Aramis was almost at the end of the food chain and therefor he wasn’t there for speaking. But Athos was different. He'd listened.

He felt a little bit disappointed now that he knew that Athos wouldn’t be there. Back then he would have spend his evening with Mat, cuddling and making out, laughing at the man’s bad jokes. But this was over and since then Daniel’s party’s had become more dull.

As the newbie opened the door for him, Aramis walked in automatically and looked around the room with a unimpressed glance.

It felt like a lifetime ago that he’d entered the luxurious flat the first time. He’d been more than surprised back then. Who would have expected that such a pompous flat hidden above some EDM-Club in one of the worst parts of London? The first time, Aramis had been in awe. He could not stop wondering how anyone could pay for a whirlpool right in the centre of the living room or a golden bathtub in the bedroom. Then, shortly after his first party, he’d learnt not to question the origin of the money. Just like he’d accepted that drugs and guns were as easy to come by like candy, in the early years of teenage years, he accepted that there were thing he was not supposed to know or question.

Another reason why he hadn’t asked the new man at the door why Athos wasn’t there. It wasn’t important and if he should have known it, he would have. Don’t ask questions you don’t want to hear the answers to. It had been one of the first things Mat had whispered to him, back in the alleyway behind his apartment complex.

As Aramis gaze stopped at the group of people that were gathered around the black leathered sofa, he remembered why he was there. Daniel had invited him. Something that didn’t happen as often as one or two years back. But still there weren’t many dancers who’d ever even seen their boss. So Aramis tried not to linger on the thought that he soon would be too old for this business. That Daniel would want to get rid of him just like Mat had. There were always younger, more desperate, more beautiful and less used boys available. He was nothing special and sometimes it was hard to remember himself of that fact. He liked the attention,  bathed in the looks and gazes, loved the feeling how everyone adored him when he moved his body in the most sinful ways. And it wasn’t easy to know that this would end sooner than later and he would have to search another way to earn money. After all these years of up downs, he’d finally found some kind of consistency and he could not bring himself to let it go.

Aramis put on his usual charming smile as he strode over to the sofa, spotting Daniel right in the middle of it. There were two blonde women sitting on each of his sides, leaning against him and giggling stupidly. The one with the birthmark on her neck had been here the last two times already and Aramis had the sickening feeling that she could be Daniel’s next favourite.

But his doubts and fears vanished as his Boss’ head shot to the side as he noticed him and a wide grin spread on the handsome face. Though Daniel was too old for him, a good decade older than Mat, with a few grey strains in his otherwise black hair, the man was just too good looking to deny his beauty.

“Aramis.” Daniel greeted him before he turned his head to the other nameless blonde. Aramis watched him whisper something into her ear which caused her false smile to falter. With an angry look into his direction, the women stood up and went over to the bar. Daniel did not look after her for a single second as he pat the now empty seat beside him.

“Join us.” He invited and Aramis did not hesitate to take his usual place by the side of his boss. Not even a minute later a glass of champagne was handed to him by an furious looking blonde. He grinned at her before he turned his attention to the group that was gathered around him.

There were the usual henchmen, looking grim and bored by all this fuss. But Daniel loved it. Loved to show off, spend his money and most importantly – impress his business partners. These were easily spotted They always sat on the sofa opposite of Daniel’s, some well chosen women or men with tight clothes sitting with them and at least two waitress were constantly paying attention to them.

The rest of the evening went over in a blur. Aramis did not truly listen to what was said around him as he wasn’t supposed to chime in anyways. So he kept his concentration on his champagne, making sure that the glass was refilled constantly, and on his hands that drew small circles on the back of Daniel’s shoulder. Every now and then the man traced along Aramis’ thigh with his rough hands.

Aramis felt content on the man’s side and was glad that he’d worked his way that far up. His eyes sometimes lingered on the young people on the other sofa, trying to please Daniel by pleasing his business partners. Aramis shuddered at the memories. Of course, some of them had been quite decent but most of them wanted to show Daniel that they were equals, that they could take and break what was his. It had been over 2 years since Aramis last had to really work on one of those festives and as dull as it could be to just sit and wait the whole time, it was better than to actually work.

Of course he knew that this wasn’t for his entertainment, not in the closest. As unobtrusive he had to be, he still had to look his best and give everything to show that Daniel was right to chose him as his favourite for the night. More often than not Aramis even bought new clothes for the parties. As he couldn’t allow himself such a luxury he kept the labels on them and gave them back a day later – as long as Daniel didn't rip them again.

So, as the evening was slowly passing by, Aramis barely noticed that the party was coming to an end. And with a small satisfied feeling he noticed that he had not missed neither Mat nor Athos this evening. Maybe he really did not need anyone else to have fun. Not as long as he was at Daniel’s side, that is.

Too entranced in his thoughts and watching the small bubbles pop up in his champagne, Aramis was surprised to suddenly hear Daniel’s voice being directed at him.

“Go into the bedroom. I’ll be there in five.”

Aramis nodded and stood up. Before he went, he let his gaze wander over the room one last time, noticing that most guests had either left or were out cold on the floor. Even the business partners were gone. There were only Daniel and three of his henchmen left. Aramis never really bothered to learn their names.

As he went he made sure to swing his hips a little bit more than necessary, knowing that he would be watched until he vanished inside the luxurious bedroom.

In there he placed his glass on the night table and laid down on the bed, which sheet’s were always made of silk. He enjoyed the soft feeling against his skin and glanced through the floor-to-ceiling window into the night. It wasn’t a nice view, far too poor for such a flat. But what could you expect from this part of the town? At least the night sky was sparkling tonight and the moon was so full that it illuminated the bedroom enough without a lamp on.

Aramis smiled to himself as he nipped on his glass again. He’d felt the calming feeling of the alcohol for hours now and sometimes he wished he could always feel like this. The mattress was SO soft, indulging his body and inviting him to just get lost in the endless space.

He wondered when Daniel would finally come and do what he had to do so Aramis could finally take a long, relaxing bath in the golden tub and then go home. As much as he wished to, he would not be allowed to sleep in the luxurious bed. Aramis listened if he could hear Daniel’s footsteps over the faint sound of music but all he heard were hushed voices. But not too hushed to not understand them, he found out.

“We’ve dealt with the rat as you’ve wanted.” One voice said and Aramis felt intrigued.

Usually, he tried not to listen to such conversations. “The less you know, the better.” Mat had once told him and Aramis found that he’d been right. Knowing only meant trouble.

But somehow he could not help but listen now. Even as he tried to not LISTEN they just talked loud enough for him to hear and as there was nothing else to do, he eavesdropped.

“I’m still not sure if it was the right idea to let him live. Just should have smashed his head in like he deserved.” Another one added and Aramis thought to be able to place it to the bold henchman.

“He doesn’t know anything we didn’t want him to know so don’t worry about this.” This was Daniel, Aramis was sure. “This herd of pigs will go crazy not knowing what information is right and what not.”
The statement was followed by soft laughter, then a few more hushed words.

As Aramis heard the front door open and footsteps coming towards the bedroom at the same time, he jumped from the bed, grabbed his champagne and rushed over to the window. He suddenly noticed what a enomours mistake he'd done. Though he couldn't place the few sentences he'd heard, nor did he know whom they were talking about, he shouldn't have listened at all. He’d just turned his back towards the door and acted like he watched the ongoings on the street as Daniel entered the room. Aramis could not help but to tense as his boss walked up behind him, a sickening feeling dropping in his stomach and causing his heart to race. He should not have eavesdropped. What if Daniel knew? Daniel knew everything. Daniel would find out and make sure that he would be found in some alley, gutted out like a fish. Aramis tried to gulp down the fear and act innocent as he felt the strong arms wrap around his body and soft lips caressing his neck.

Was this just a façade to make him feel safe before he was butchered? He tried to see it logical, that Daniel had no way of knowing that Aramis was able to hear them, but the panic won over. As a rough hand was wrapped around his throat, he jumped.

Daniel knew. Daniel would kill him. Strangle him here and there where everyone could see if they looked up to the window. He would just throw him through the glass like a doll.

“You’re so tense, baby.” Daniel whispered roughly, the hand that wasn’t wrapped around Aramis’ throat began to open his trousers. Okay, maybe he didn’t know. Or maybe he would want to use Aramis one more time before he got rid of him?

However, Aramis decided that the safest way was to play his part and act like nothing had happened.
So he turned around, shot Daniel a winning smile and then sank down onto his knees; his back facing the large window so everyone could see what he was doing to his boss, that everyone knew who he belonged to.

Chapter Text

To his own surprise Aramis lived through the night and went home as usual. Though he started to run once he was out of the sight of Daniel’s henchmen, not wanting to risk anything. He still didn’t feel completely safe, but he guessed that if Daniel had suspected anything, he would be dead already. That was a win at least.

Owed to his – maybe irrational – fear, he didn’t take the bath in Daniel’s flat which he'd deserved but decided to take a quick shower in his crappy apartment. He then went straight to bed as he had a shift to cover on the next day.

As he awoke hours later, Aramis knew why he usually took his day off after a night with Daniel. He felt dehydrated thanks to a few too many glasses of champagne, and so he chucked down half a liter of water right after leaving his bed. Leaning against the kitchen counter he glanced through the window as he waited for his coffee to brew. There was not much to see though, only the muddy brick wall of the next building. In between his window and the neighbour’s wall was only enough space that an adult could squeeze through it. Taking a step forward to be able to glance to the ground between the houses he noticed that indeed, Fred had taken shelter there again. Over the years Aramis become weirdly fond of the crazy homeless man and every now and then he placed his leftovers in the gap, hoping that Fred would find the food before the stray dogs did.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much Aramis could give him now. It was the end of the month, and he had to get through this week with his meagre supplies until payday came.

After going through his morning routine he covered up the new bruises and hickeys from last night. He was glad that they weren’t as dark as usual and would probably fade in a day or two.

He then grabbed his bag which contained his working clothes and headed off to the Club, which was still closed for costumers as he arrived. Aramis took the back door, which was always unlocked and headed right to the dressing room.

He didn’t bother to greet the other dancers. There was none of the long timers there anyways. Only the desperate students who were searching for quick and easy money. Internally, Aramis huffed at this. This money was neither earned easily nor quickly. And it certainly wasn’t enough to live off. Without his tips from Daniel every now and then he would not be able to pay his rent. Of course, he could still live in one of Daniel’s apartments. He was a good boss, didn’t let his people live on the streets.

But as the apartments were free for his workers, they weren’t a good stay. Most times five to six people lived in those flats together, even though there wasn’t more space than in Aramis’ one-room-apartment.

It wasn’t really save to life there either. But for a boy like Aramis it was never truly safe anywhere. If you had to rely on Daniel’s apartments you obviously could not choose where you lived. You were placed where a bed was empty and so you never knew with whom you had to live. This was fine for the bouncers and dealers, Aramis guessed. But the Dancers and sex workers were easy targets and living with strangers could end badly for them. Aramis’ former friend Marsac had to make this experience by himself. Marsac had just moved in in such a living arrangement and only three weeks later Aramis had found him in the shared living room, unconscious and beaten. He’d dragged him to a hospital then, but they couldn’t do anything for him.

Aramis shook his head, trying to get rid of this dark path his thoughts took. Tried to forget how guilty he'd felt. He just should have taken Marsac in his apartment yshiuldnt have left him on his own. Aramis sighed. He was expected on the stage in a few minutes, he could not dwell on the past now. So he squeezed into the tight trousers and put some glitter onto his skin before he heard his usual soundtrack start.

There weren’t many guests there and it probably would stay empty as it was a week night. Without the usual Bachelor or birthday parties on Friday and Saturday evenings, the Club was a refuge for lonely, desperate men. There wasn’t much money to get from them and Aramis only wanted his shift to end as soon as possible so he could finally rest his arching muscles.

He was just a few songs in, having only earned a few sad dollars that were put into his slip, as he was straddling the lap of a man in his sixties. Then, it was like a bad cut in a music video when the beat dropped and suddenly the whole atmosphere changed. The normally all-consuming music seemed like a bad soundtrack as black-clad men stormed into the club from all sides. Aramis only saw the weapons they held as he jumped from his customers lap and staggered back, looking around wildly. His first thought was that a rival gang was seeking revenge, but then he heard the shouts and noticed the inscription on the man’s clothes. POLICE.

He was drowning in the mess of noises and actions, his blood rushing through his body and beating so loud in his ears that he barely heard his harsh breaths.

Aramis turned around himself, searching for a way out, not even bothering to listen to the demand to lay on the ground and not move. No one but the customers did. Aramis was torn as his eyes darted from one door to another, noticing that there was no way out. They were everywhere. In the one corner of the room he saw James, the barkeeper, being brought down to the ground by a baton. Mat was struggling against the grip of two policemen, shouting and cursing, and the customer he’d just served was shaking with fear where he laid on the ground.

Officers, clad in black, storm masks covering their faces, were everywhere, taking in every inch of the room. They barked orders and waved their weapons around. And all Aramis could remember where the four months of prison he’d served years ago. Panic flooded his veins, making it impossible to form a single, rational thought. He could not go back there. He didn’t know why the police was there, what or whom they were searching for, but he knew that they would take as many with them as possible.

And he had to leave NOW.

On the other hand he should try to hide the gun that was still in his bag in the dressing room. He should flush the drugs that he knew where stored in the office.
He could take the gun, could shoot his way out. He could, theoretically. But he knew he would not be able to do it. He had never used the weapon. Had it for the sole purpose to feel a tad bit safer. Moreover it wasn’t a very intelligent action to shoot at the police if you were only searched for minor delicts. But he was wanted nevertheless. They all were. He did not know anyone working for Daniel who hadn’t done the one or another offense.

Aramis gaze swept through the room a second time and as his eyes fell on a window, he made his decision. He wanted to save his own ass. The drugs weren’t exactly his problem and the gun they could have as well. But not his ass. Ignoring the tumult in the room, Aramis sprinted towards the window, ready to open and jump through it once he arrived.

Only that he never reached it.

He did not see the officer coming but only noticed that the ground beneath his feet was suddenly gone and then he hit the ground, hard. The air was knocked out of his lungs as his spine burned from the impact. Aramis gasped and tried to sit up to breathe easier or to ease the pain in his back but he was not allowed to do so. Before he even regained his senses, he was turned onto his stomach, his hands were pulled onto his back roughly and the familiar coldness of handcuffs wrapped around his wrists. He groaned at the new strain on his muscles but could not do anything against it.

“Let me go, you pig. I’ve done nothing wrong.” He hissed, once he was dragged to his feet unceremoniously. He felt the grip around his biceps tighten painfully at the same place Daniel had held him last night. Nevertheless, Aramis did not stop his struggles. “You fucking prick, get your dirty hands off me.” He cursed further but fell on deaf ears.

As he was pushed through the room and towards the exit, he found that James and Mat as well as a few more dancers were escorted outside with him. A unnatural silence now hung in the Club, only a few curses and insults were heard every now and then. The policemen were now wandering through the Club, looking into drawers and behind mirrors. The music had turned off at sometime, giving it a ghost atmosphere. It was never quiet in the Club. Aramis sighed. Daniel would be angry at them if the Cops confiscated the drugs and their weapons. He would be even more furious if a whole group of his staff was arrested and imprisoned.

“Head down.” The policeman beside him warned before he felt a hand push his head roughly and force him inside a car. As Aramis seatbelt was closed and the door closed, he laid his head back in desperation.

Fear of what would come, what would happen to him, filled him and turned his stomach upside down. He stubbornly stared on the ceiling during the drive, firstly to not make eye contact with this stupid cops and secondly to have a fix point to not throw up.

After a few minutes in the drive the adrenaline that had flooded his veins slowly ebbed away, leaving him exhausted and hurting. His muscles burned from the night before and even worse where his arms were uncomfortably tucked behind his back. He felt a small headache forming from not drinking too much and was suddenly too aware of the sweat on his body and the missing clothes. Goosebumps grew on his skin,causing him to shake slightly against the cold.

He risked a glance to the front, frowning with disdain as he noticed that the cops were dressed in thick jackets and saw that the A/C was on.
He didn't say anything thought. Didn't want to give them the satisfaction.

It was ten minutes later as they arrived at the station that they pushed him inside a interrogation room. A uniformed police officer opened the cuffs around his wrists and handed him a washed out police hoodie and sweaters. Without saying anything else he left Aramis in the room for the next few hours.

….

“René d’Herblay.”

Aramis’ head shot up at the name he hadn’t heard for so many years. He frowned at the Cop that had just entered the interrogation room, a file in one hand a bottle of water in the other. Suddenly, he noticed how dry his lips were and he licked them unconsciously as the young cop sat down in front of him.

Aramis watched the man carefully as he laid out the sheets that were put in the file. He recognized a copy of his passport in there just as well as some photos from the club’s dressing club. And his gun.

Working hard to not let a sigh slip, Aramis leaned back in his chair and eyed the cop with disdain. He did not get why they were after small fishes like him, making his life even more miserable as it was. He just wanted to earn enough money to live and survive. It wasn’t his fault that he grew up where he did and that he did not get to go to a glorious, superior school. The Cop probably knew nothing of this. He probably grew up in Muswell Hill or something like that, wore a nice blue uniform to school and never had to really work for his food. No wonder, that he had no sympathy for the ones who had to do more to survive.

“Mister d’Herblay, I’m Detective Vallon. Do you know why you are here?” The pig asked, his voice far too nice for such a conversation. Aramis wished he could just scratch this polite smile of his damn attractive face. It was shame that he was a Cop, Aramis mused. He would have made a great bouncer with those broad shoulders and tall frame. His dark skin stood in a harsh contrast to red scar that covered his left eye and Aramis could not deny that it truly fitted his looks.

“Because you want a private show?” Aramis answered, a fake grin on his lips as he leaned forward. Beneath the table, his foot reached forward and slowly traced the leg of the Cop upwards.

“Nice try.” Vallon huffed and pulled his own chair slightly backwards so Aramis could not reach him anymore. The Stripper made a show to pout like he just had been insulted.

“You’re accused of owning an unregistered gun, the possession of illegal substances, theft, prostitution and accessory to human trafficking.” With each accusation, the Cop drew a new photo out of the file; showing Aramis’ weapon, some pills that had been in his dresser, a picture of security cam in a Jewellery store and a picture of him kneeling in front of Daniel in his flat. He noticed that there was no picture for the last crime he’d been accused of and so he guessed that they did not have any evidence for that.

“The guns not mine, neither are the drugs. Okay maybe I’ve stolen a necklace once, but you can’t imprison me for that. It was five dollars or so. And this,” he pointed at the photo of Daniel, “is not prostitution. But it’s kind of rude to take pictures like this, don’t you think? I thought you would have some kind of dignity.”

Aramis watched with joy as the Detective rolled his eyes at him. Vallon then leaned forward, his fingers pointing at the pictures between them.

“We’ve found your fingerprints on the gun and the pills. The necklace was worth almost seven hundred pounds. And alone adding these three things to your criminal record could send you away for a couple of years. I’m sure a good looking lad like you is welcomed in the prison with open arms.”

That made Aramis frown. When they had all the evidence they needed to put him away, what did they want?

“This isn’t about some pills or jewellery.” He then stated with distrust, now even more careful of his words. He had a bad feeling where this conversation was going.

Vallon smiled slightly and nodded. “You’re a bright one I see, René.” With that, he subtly shoved the water bottle towards Aramis, who’s fingers twitched to take it and gulp the content down. But he didn’t. He did not trust this Cop and did not want him to think that he’d won him with a simple bottle of water.

Giving Aramis a few seconds before noticing that the Stripper won’t fall for such a simple trick, Porthos pointed at the picture of Aramis’ kneeling in front of Daniel, sucking his dick.

“This is Daniel Jenkins,” the Detective started and shortly glanced up to see Aramis’ reaction. But he did not dare to show any kind of emotion now, neither did he confirm the statement, though Porthos did not need him to. He would recognize Jenkins everywhere. “And you two are obviously… close.” To prove his point, Vallon pulled out more pictures of the two of them from several different dates.

In answer Aramis bit his tongue, his jaw clenched tightly as he tried to not let any wrong emotion slip. He still wasn’t sure what Vallon wanted but he knew that this was taking a very wrong turn. He’d never been connected to Daniel before when it came to his crimes. The Cops before did not care for whom he was working or who he was seeing.

“We know that Jenkins is pimping your ass out and uses it whenever he wants for himself. You’re one of his regulars.” Porthos states, trying to provoke the Stripper, and it takes all of Aramis’ willpower to not fall into his trap and tell him that Daniel isn’t his pimp, that he isn’t a prostitute anymore. Instead of hissing the words in the Detective’s face or strangle him like he deserved, Aramis cocked his head to the side.

“I want my call.”

…

“He won’t be so stupid to call Jenkins.” Amy mused as she leaned against the wall, looking right over to the telephone which Jenkins’ toy boy was currently using.

“I know. But he will call someone. And this someone will be connected to Jenkins.” Porthos argued with a satisfied smile. He had the boy right where he wanted him.

It had felt like he’d won a jackpot as he’d seen the familiar face in the Strip club. They had decided to raid this specific club in hope to get Mathew Ackroyd. But they’d arrested the man several times and knew that he was incredible loyal to Jenkins. Ackroyd would rather spend the rest of his life in prison than to spill a single word over Jenkins.

What they hadn’t known was that the toy boy they’d seen on several observations visiting Jenkins actually worked in one of his Clubs. There wasn’t a address to his name nor another option on how to find him so they had stopped their search months ago. And then he just ran into their trap like a lost bunny.

Porthos could have cheered. He did so, on the inside.

“I don’t think that the toy boy of Jenkins will know anything of importance.” Caleb added, already bored from watching the interacting of the Stripper with the phone. He did not cry nor scream, just leaned against the wall casually, talking softly into the speaker.

“Do you have something better?” Porthos hissed in annoyance. They were finally making progress in the case and all Caleb did was talking it bad. Only because he was pissed that he couldn’t get anything out of Ackroyd. And Amy wasn’t really supportive as well, running against walls with the barkeeper she was questioning.

Caleb sighed and shrugged. “Sorry, Mate. You’re right, we should give it a try. It can’t hurt.”

“But what will you do if he doesn’t talk? You can’t keep him here forever, we have barely any evidences against him.” Amelia asked, brows furrowed as she thought over their possibilities.

 “Now that Fere is out of order, we need a new inside man. Don’t we? And the boy s scared of prison, would do anything to escape it.”

“You want to give him a Deal?” Caleb asked in surprise. He hadn’t thought of this option but after thinking it through for a moment, he came to like it. “Dinner’s on me if you can pressure him into doing it.” He agreed and held out to a grinning Porthos who took it with a laugh.

“And drinks on me.” Amy chimed in.

Chapter Text

“What do you mean you-“

“No. Yes. I understand. But-“

“Constance, please-“

“They will put me in prison! I don’t belong there, you know it.”

“Can’t Daniel do something?”

Porthos really should not have strained his ears to listen to the agitated conversation going on by the telephone, but he just could not help himself. Once Caleb and Amy had left to return to their own captives, Porthos found himself concentrating more and more on the phone call. In his defence, it truly was almost impossible to NOT listen to René’s angry arguments, his voice growing louder with each sentence until the last one was spoken quieter, barely audible for Porthos, as René hung his head in defeat.

“Oh right, I understand.”

With that, he placed the phone back into the bracket. Porthos gave the young man a few more moments to regain his stubborn façade as was not surprised to see him look up with a stoic mask put on his face after a few seconds.

Porthos took this as a sign to gather his hopefully soon-to-be-snooper. He couldn’t hold back a small grin spreading on his lips, knowing that he just had gotten a step closer to his target. If Jenkins would have sent one of his lawyers, it would have almost been impossible to talk René into a Deal. But now that he was left to his own, everything seemed a little bit easier.

“So when will your lawyer arrive?” Porthos asked casually as he lead René back to the interrogation room, just like he hadn’t heard every single word.

René only shot him a angry look and shrugged before he sat back down on his chair.

Acting like he just understood now that no one will come to help René, Porthos faked a surprised look.

“Shall I call a public defender?” He then offered. Had to. Porthos gestured with his thumb into the vague direction where the telephone cell was and silently prayed that René would not take the offer. Porthos watched the Stripper turn his head to the other side, effectively avoiding his gaze and maybe to try to hide his frustration.

As René rasped out a quiet “No.” Porthos could have made a somersault followed by a happy dance. Instead he contented himself with a small grin which he hoped went unnoticed by René.

“So you refuse any help by a lawyer?” Porthos asked, just to be sure. He didn’t want to risk anything with simple procedural errors.

“Yes.” René answered curtly, obviously annoyed. Though Porthos was not sure at whom exactly. He could imagine that René was angry at Jenkins for refusing to help him. Or this Constance woman. He made a mental note to write her on their board and search for further information about her. The name didn’t say anything to him but apparently she had something to say in the organization.

“Okay. So just you and me.” Porthos answered, humour filling his voice even though he knew it would not be appreciated. He huffed as René just shot him a venomous glance and sat down in his usual place, flipping through the files as if he hadn’t memorized them perfectly already.

“So, just let me conclude. We will definitely get you for owning a unregistered gun, the possession of illegal substances and theft. Add prostitution and accessory to human trafficking to the list and you will spend quite a long time behind bars. And believe me, guys like you are very welcomed there. If you know what I mean.” Porthos stopped shortly, waiting for any kind of reaction. But René only kept his gaze turned away, arms crossed above his chest. 

“Listen, I will tell you the opportunities you’ve got now. First, you keep giving me the silent treatment. I will put you in custody and we will see what the judge will say to your case. As we’ve got quiet clear evidence and seeing from which part of the town you’re coming from, I don’t believe that the judge will let you go easily. Secondly, you confess. Hope that the judge will go easy on you for it. Maybe you will be let go on bail. But, without being prejudiced, I doubt you will have the money to buy you out. So you will end in prison as well even if not as long as otherwise.

Or,” Porthos leant forward with that, wanting to get a reaction from René. Unfortunately, the Stripper did not move or look at him in the slightest. Porthos sighed before he went on.

“Or you tell us what you know about Jenkins. We will let you go and just forget about these small delicts. But, in return for us looking away, you will give us new information every now and then.”

At that, René finally showed some kind of reaction and huffed out a dry laugh.

“Do you really I think I would deceive Daniel?”

Porthos cocked his head, eyeing the tight lines on the man’s face, noticing how his eyes flicked from one side to the other nervously. “I don’t know. What I know is that Daniel would deceive you. Has already. He’d pulled you into his criminal actions and doesn’t even bother to send a lawyer when you desperately need one. He doesn’t care a little bit what happens to his favourite toy.”

“Liar.” René hissed, his nails digging into the skin of his forearms.

“Oh, am I? Did you know that Mathew Ackroyd just got released because a lawyer came for him? They left together. It wouldn’t have been a far way for the lawyer to help you as well. Instead, he left. Because Daniel doesn’t care.”

René gulped at that and Porthos could have sworn that his eyes were slightly more glassy than before. Good.

“You’re just saying that so I give in.” René then returned, voice raspy but he held his head high, trying to look arrogant. But Porthos had seen it, the crack in his mask, saw a piece falling off. He knew he had him where he wanted him to be.

“Maybe. Maybe not. Fact is, you’re still here. And the only way you will get out of here anytime soon is to help us. René, don’t you see the chance I give you? Once in your lifetime you get the opportunity to do the right thing. It wasn’t your fault that you’ve grown up in this part of the town and that you’ve been on your own for years. It’s not your fault that you’re trying to survive and I’m not judging the decisions you’ve made until now, because you probably had no other choice. But now, I give you one. For once you can decide on which side you stand and what you do with your life. End in prison and be labelled as a criminal for forever and never get out of this life? Or do you want to help us, clean your name and be a free man?”

In answer, René let out a dry laugh and shook his head. “Do you really think that’s a choice you’re giving me?” He now leant forward as well, mirroring Porthos’ posture as he placed his arms on the table.

“If I snitch on Daniel, I’m dead. I can be lucky if it’s quick. Do you really think I’m more scared of prison than of Daniel? I may not be educated, but I’m not stupid, Vallon. No thank you, I rather live behind bars than not live at all.”

“And what life would that be for you, de Herblay? What do you think would happen to a young Stripper in a prison full of sex-deprived men? Do you really think you will live there for long? Rather sooner than later someone will go too far and you will end up just as dead. But out here, we could protect you. One of us will always be close and once we’ve got the necessary information Jenkins will be arrested and never can harm anyone ever again.”

René just shook his head before resting it on his hands.

“No. No I won’t do it.” He rasped. But Porthos had noticed the uncertainty on the man’s face. The fear glimmering in his eyes at the mentions of prison and what could happen to him there. He just needed to push him a little further. He had him right on the edge and he needed him to only take a small step further.

Luckily, he had an ace in his sleeve.

He pulled out a photo out of the file, slowly sliding it over the desk towards René. The way it was taken it just looked like Detective Fere was dead. Porthos was glad that he wasn’t, but that was nothing that René needed to know. And he also didn’t need to know the true name of the badly beaten man.

Porthos knew that Fere had been on a couple events where René had also been and from one of his most recent reports, before he had been beaten into a coma, Porthos knew that both of them knew each other. From what he remembered, René – or Aramis, how Fere had always called him – had taken a liking to the detective, trusted him.

He knew he had hit the right spot as he heard a hitched gasp and as Porthos looked up, René had a hand clasped above his mouth, wide eyes starring at the picture before him.

As tears swelled in his eyes, he forced his head to the side, gulping down the bile that had rose in his throat. Without taking another glance, he pushed the photo away from him.

“You knew him. Athos.” Porthos stated, careful to only use Fere’s alias. “You liked him.” He then added, acting like he didn’t know it for sure but only assumed. He watched René carefully and felt a small triumph as he got a slight nod as an answer.

“Look. Look what Daniel has done to him.”

René only shook his head, not wanting to see the gruesome scene a second time. He should have known that something was wrong as Athos didn’t show up at the last party. But he couldn’t have known…

“Daniel must have had a reason.” René then tried to reason, his mind going back and force as he tried to make sense of the scene. He’d liked Athos, hadn’t thought that he would do anything that would upset Daniel or be bad for their organization. On the other side, he was still loyal to Daniel, admired him. Daniel did what he had to do, but he didn’t kill light hearted. If this was truly Daniel’s doing, then Athos had deserved it. But René could not believe that Athos would have deserved a death like this. A deep frown was written on his brow as the thoughts rushed through his head and Porthos watched with interest how the wheels turned inside his head.

“He did. We had Athos arrested a few days prior, questioned him but he did not tell us anything. We had to let him go. Some time later we’ve found one of Daniel’s containers. Totally unconnected to Athos. But apparently Daniel thought otherwise. He’d killed him just like this, without any proof. Without a reason.”

“That’s not true.” René shook his head in denial. “You’re lying.”

“So you think Athos deserved this?”

“No, but-“ René stopped mid sentence, unsure what it was that he wanted to say. “Why are you showing me this?” He then asked, looking Detective Vallon in the eyes, his own wide and glassy.

“Because I want to stop this reasonless murdering. I want to stop the trafficking,” to underline his point he pulled out photos from their last rescue operation, showing young women and girls barely clothed and crying. “I want to stop Jenkins and I need your help.”

René chewed on his lower lip, his fingers playing with each other under the table.

“I would end up just like Athos.”

“No. Athos didn’t want to help us so we couldn’t help him. But if you give us information, we would make sure that nothing happens to you. You’re valuable to us, René. We would not leave you behind like Jenkins does. We wouldn’t let you rot away in a cell.”

“What will happen to everyone else if you get the information?” René then asked, eyes open and worried. Porthos wondered whom exactly he means with ‘everyone’, hoped for some names and details so he can get them arrested as well. He won’t tell René that of course.

“We’re only after Jenkins. We’re not here to arrest the small fishes but only the shark.” He lied.

“So, you will leave us alone then? No more raids and shootings? We can finally live in peace then?”

Porthos would have liked to laugh at that. René really thought the police was on the evil side in this. If these people wouldn’t be doing what they did, the police would not need to interfere. Of course, he did not say that either.

“We will leave you alone. Promise.”

Porthos watched René biting on his lip for a few moments, the Stripper’s eyes drawn to the now closed file. The Detective didn’t notice that he had held his breath while waiting until René finally spoke up again and Porthos let out a relieved sigh as he said:

”I will do it.”

…

Later that day, after René had been released and had went home, and after Porthos had made sure that a civil cop would follow the Stripper where ever he went, Caleb, Amy and he went into a bar. As promised, Amy paid for their drinks and Caleb for the meals. While his partners celebrated their “win” exuberantly, not caring over the headache they will have on the next day, Porthos only sipped on his beer exceptionally. He wanted to keep a clear head in case something happened. His work phone laid on the table in front of him so he would see if a call came in as he doubted he would hear the ringing over the noise in the bar. Moreover he couldn’t afford to have a hangover the next day. With a new informer in Jenkins’ crew, he now hoped for a breakthrough every day. René was a part of the gang, close to their leader and a longstanding member. If he couldn’t get the information they needed, no one could. This felt like THE chance to get Jenkins as well as their last one. Porthos was sure that the gang leader would not allow another spy in his group if he found about René, the second rat in a few weeks. They couldn’t allow this operation to fail now, because if it went wrong now, they would lose their track on Jenkins for sure.

…

Once he was inside his flat, Aramis locked his door and closed all the curtains, thereby having a terrible churning feeling in his stomach. He knew he had done the right thing and made the only choice that had made sense.

Still, he was scared of the outcome.

Aramis hadn’t been blind or stupid, he’d seen right through the web of lies Detective Vallon had spun. He hadn’t believed that he would leave the rest of their community out of this, not even one bit. He knew how cops worked and that they would arrest everyone who came in their way. He couldn’t risk that though. Couldn’t risk that Constance was arrested, even though she wasn’t quiet helpful today, but all in all she was a loyal friend. He couldn’t risk Mat being arrested or Daniel. He wouldn’t know what to do without them. After all they were all he knew and the closest he’d come to a family.

But to keep the police out of the way, he would have to give them small snippets of information every now and then. Nothing important, some wrong things for sure. But he had to stay believable.

It would be like a walk on a tightrope for him. Trying to balance between giving the police what they want and not telling too much. And if Daniel would get involved, the rope would surely snap and Aramis would fall.

He let out a shuddering breath, his shaking arms finding the kitchen counter and supporting his wobbly legs. He closed his eyes tightly and tried to keep the nausea at bay by breathing through his nose. It helped a little. His fingers had a deathlike grip on the counter, his knuckles turning white and his muscles arching from the strain. But the pain helped him to distract himself from the hopeless situation he’d gotten himself into.

He wasn’t sure where all of this would lead him and somehow he didn’t want to know. His options weren’t good.

Prison was one for sure. Once the police noticed that he’d lied to them he would be thrown in there and he knew that the Detective had been right. Once inside, he was a lost case.

Or maybe Daniel would hear that he was a rat, wouldn’t give him time to explain and would beat his head in with a baseball bat. Maybe he wouldn’t be so merciful and torture him beforehand.

Then, there was still this small tiny little hope that he could lie to the police successfully while Daniel stayed oblivious.

But how long could he keep up the act? Maybe he could run, leave the city – or country. But the thought felt just as horrible as prison. Leaving everything he knew behind, being alone again? No, he could not do it.

He could also tell Daniel the truth, share his secret with him. Maybe it could be of use for the organization. But Daniel would surely want him to give the police only wrong information, leading them into dead ends. Aramis would like that, obviously. But that would also mean that the police would soon find out about his lies and imprison him after all.

He sighed, letting his head fall between his shoulders, starring at the grey counter top beneath him.

No, he should keep the secret to himself at first. See how it’s going. He can still tell Daniel everything sometime later.

Chapter Text

The gravel crunched beneath his heavy boots but the sound got carried away in the whistling wind, hitting his face with bitter coldness. The skin on his face burned from the assault, so Porthos ducked his head to prevent his face from the cold while he hurried up, his right hand stuffed into the pocket of his jacket while the left one held the pink tulips closely to his chest. His fingers were nearly frozen, the tips left without any feeling in them. The red of it’s skin stood in a strong contrast to the rest of his dark skin. The harsh weather has already ripped a few leaves from the flowers, letting them look rather sad than beautiful. He sighed, wishing he could bring her something better looking, but he hadn’t enough time to drive back to the flower shop again.

He walked along the familiar path, taking a few turns. Trees surrounded the area, reaching high into the sky, their thick crowns intimidating. Hedges separated the various parcels, giving them a hint of privacy. He took another turn before he stopped in front of a well-kept grave.

Dark stones of marble fenced the place in, which was decorated with lilac johnny-jump-ups and white lily-of-the-valley’s. He took his time staring at the also black tombstone to read it’s imprint, even though he knew it by heart.

Cessette Vallon

* 10.04.1995
+             2017

Dearly loved and missed
Daughter, Fianceé and Sister.

The gap in the line of the date of her death pained Porthos more with each day passing. Just as well as knowing that, beneath all this beautiful flowers and candles, under the metre of earth, laid nothing. No coffin nor body.

They still hadn’t found her and a traitorous part of his mind still found hope in it. But he knew that there was none left. As a Detective Porthos knew all the studies and numbers, knew that the chances that she was still alive after all this time was almost impossible. But his heart was a traitor, couldn’t and wouldn’t stop wishing and hoping, hindering from going on.

Porthos remembered the day just like it had happened only a day prior. He remembered how he’d cradled his mother in his arms once again, trying to forget that Cessette was somewhere out there, without knowing what had happened to her. They had been in his childhood home. A small, simple townhouse with a small garden and the usual signs of the time.

Then came the call from the Police Station, saying that they would close the case as they only ended in dead ends with it. They’d agreed to declare Cessette as dead just like the Police had advised. All signs had spoken for it. All the blood they’d found at the place where she’d been abducted, the gun shot a neighbour had heard, and the missing of any sign that she could still be alive. No ransom, no letter, nothing. From one day to another, she just had been gone. And so, it felt easier to finally give all the useless waiting and hoping an end. At least now, they had a place to come to to mourn the loss.

Porthos kneeled down slowly, putting the tulips into the grey vase that had currently been empty. He re-lightened the candles on the grave before standing up back again.

“Did you know that I’m closer to the man who did this to you, little sister?” Porthos asked, voice rough and barely audible over the loud whistling of the wind. But it didn’t matter, she wouldn’t hear it anyways. He sighed at the realization and closed his eyes for a brave moment before slowly turning to make his way back. But before he started to walk away, Porthos added. “I promise you, I will lock this bastard up once and for all. You will get justice, Ces. We’ve got a new informant now, a better one than ever before. I am sure he will be able to gather enough information that Jenkins won’t set a foot outside the jail.”

Porthos had already been in the police before his sister went missing, but since her abduction had happened, he’d made it his personal mission to find whoever was responsible for it. Back then he had worked in a completely different district as a simple Officer. But once he noticed that the Detectives on Cessette’s case would not find the culprit, he’d first used some connections to get onto the files. He’d soon found similarities to an operation he’d had months ago.

And so he’d worked every spare minute to work on his sisters case, while using his work time to do everything to get promoted. Two years later he’d found himself in a Team with Caleb and Amelia with a new medal on his uniform, calling him ‘Detective’.

And now, after all this time, he finally was so close to get Jenkins. He hadn’t any evidences that would make it through a trial that Jenkins was indeed his sisters murderer but he did not care. He knew it. And that was enough. He could easily put Jenkins behind bars for forever for his other deeds if he just got enough information.

And René would get them for him.

---

The bell that hung above the door ringed as Aramis opened it and stepped into the small but comfortable book store. There weren’t any customers. There rarely were. Nevertheless there always was a steady stream of visitors, some to have a quick chat with Constance and others that vanished in the rooms behind the small store. Aramis himself had never been behind the dark red curtain that separated the store from the rest of the house. Constance never let him go there and he’d never felt the urge to truly find out what was going on behind it. He knew about most of the stuff Daniel and his henchmen were involved in but had always tried to stay out of it as much as possible. Though it hadn’t worked most of the times. He’d dirtied his hands more than once unwillingly and just had been lucky enough that the police only knew of a few of his offenses.

Aramis took a deep breath of the familiar smell of new books and old wood, feeling instantly a tick better. But however comforting the bookstore was for him and how much he usually enjoyed to see Constance, there was still this sickening feeling in his stomach, cramping and twisting his guts inside out.

“Aramis!”

Constance gasped in surprise before a broad smile spread on her rosy cheeks and she stepped through the curtain into the room. The dark counter and a few steps separated them both, as Aramis glanced at the woman warily.

“Surprised to see me?” He asked, voice bitter as he frowned at her. The smile on her red lips vanished as Constance’s shoulders slouched.

“I am sorry, Mis. Daniel had given strict orders, there was nothing I could have done. How comes that they let you go?”

She required as she stepped around the counter and gestured Aramis to sit in one of the brown leather seats by the display window. Reluctantly, he followed her invitation and sat down. Constance took the other seat, studying him with a mix of emotions Aramis could not quite place. A frown has replaced her usual wide smile and Aramis felt like he was being inspected. Did she know something? Has he already been uncovered?

“Apparently their evidences weren’t enough to convict me. As I started to cry and beg them to release me, they obviously had pity with me. Besides, they seemed to believe me that I know nothing of importance about Daniel. Or maybe someone else had already told them enough.” Aramis tried to keep his voice as calm as possible, hopefully hiding the trembling well enough. If Constance did not believe him, Daniel and his henchman would be there in a few minutes, forcing the truth out of him.

As he noticed Constance frown to form into a fond smile again, he relaxed.

“Always the actor, ‘Mis. Good work.” She praised and ruffle through his wild curls. He laughed as he pulled his head out of her reach. He was still angry with her for not helping him, but he could not show it too much. If his cover story would have been true, he would not have had a reason to be seriously angry at her. Of course he could be disappointed that he hadn’t got any help but in the end he would have left unharmed.

“Now let me get you a tea and we can exchange the newest gossip.” Constance grinned as she stood up and Aramis answered with a small nod and laugh. “That sounds great, Constance.”

Chapter Text

A week had gone by since he had been arrested and Aramis was still alive. Counting that as a small win, he’d managed to calm his constant anxiety and feel more at ease again. He hadn’t met with the police again or contacted them, deciding that he would ignore them as long as possible. And when they would press him for information some time, he would give them a small, unimportant tip to get them off his ass for a few days or weeks again.

He was back at one of Daniel’s parties, satisfied that he’d been invited again. Daniel would surely not want him there if he’d suspected anything.

So, dressed in tight jeans and a white, almost shine-through, button up, Aramis squeezed through the people towards Daniel and his henchmen.  As he came to a halt in front of the sofa, the blonde girl, Justine he had learned at some point, sat on Daniel’s left side, giggling over one of his bad jokes. To his right now sat a young man with dark chin-long hair, high cheekbones and a toned body. His shirt had been unbuttoned so much that his navel could be seen as well as the defined muscles of his stomach and chest. A golden necklace dangled down his front, forcing all eyes onto him. Aramis had seen the boy with Mat a few times, giggling and kissing the bouncer like it was his last day on earth. He thought to remember that Mat had called him ‘Charles’ or ‘Charlie’ a few times.

Aramis’ brow furrowed at the sight and the lines deepened even more as Daniel glanced at him for only a short moment.

“Oh good you’re here. Go and make my guests comfortable.” Daniel nodded towards the fifty-something man in a smart suit, sitting on the sofa across them, nursing on a gin tonic and shooting Aramis’  a dirty grin.

The Dancer’s mouth parted in momentary shock before he forced his lips close again. He shot Charles a angry look only to get a arrogant grin as an answer, while the younger man placed his hand on Daniel’s thigh.

Aramis bit on his cheek to supress an inappropriate comment and only cursed this Charles mentally. He then made sure to walk over to Daniel’s guest with his head held high and shoulders broad. He would not let himself be humiliated by this child. He supressed the thought, that he himself had probably been even younger when he had started his affair with Mat. But this felt different. He’d really thought that Daniel saw something special in his “favourite boy” and Aramis liked to believe the sweet lies the older man had told him.

He gulped slightly as Daniel’s guest greeted him with a rough squeeze on his ass, causing him to stumble forward so his legs straddled the man’s thigh.

“My name’s Victor by the way.” The man said, placing his hand back on Aramis’ cheek and pulling him down so the Dancer sat on the man’s right leg, his own limbs to both side of the guest.

“Aramis.” The Stripper answered, trying his best to let his name sound somewhat filthy as he forced his best fake grin on his lips and leaned forward, his arms falling around Victor’s neck.

Even though he felt disgusted with the act as well as Victor, Aramis had decided to play his best act possibly. He would show Charles what a good Stripper was like and he would make Daniel want him back. Aramis was NOT ready to give up his place by the leader’s side. He would not let himself banished just because he got too old for the business.

So, as the next song started playing, he kneeled on the sofa, Victor still between his thick thighs, and started to thrust his hip in sinful movements, his crotch right in front of the guest’s face and his well-rounded ass on show for Daniel and Charles.

After a few minutes,, he then turned and couldn’t contain a smirk as he noticed Daniel’s and Charles’ eyes on him. He shot a cold smile towards the younger man, before he grinded his pelvis against Victor’s crotch, satisfied as he felt a strong hand squeeze his waist in return.

Not long after, he felt slobby kisses being placed along his neck and he had to remain Victor several times to not leave any bruises. Normally, Aramis would not go so far, would try to not make Victor touch him in this ways, but he enjoyed the wanting look in Daniel’s eyes and the jealously in Charles’. With a lot satisfaction, Aramis noticed that the young boy had tried to get Daniel’s attention back to him, touching and stroking him, placing kisses on his neck. And while Daniel clearly enjoyed the touches of Charles, he enjoyed Aramis’ show even more.

Aramis event went so far to let out a raspy moan as Victor’s hand explored his torso.
He then felt the man’s lips against his ear. “Come with me.”

Aramis managed to put on a grin, even though his stomach churned at the thought what would happen. But there was no going back now. He could not let down any of Daniel’s guest or his boss would be furious. Most times if Daniel invited other business men to his parties it was about some kind of Deal they wanted to make. And having satisfied guests meant having a good deal for the business. So Aramis saw this as a win-win situation. He would not only make Daniel happy, because they got a good business deal, but he also made him jealous.

Aramis stood up on wobbly legs and then took Victor’s hand to be lead through the crowd towards the exit. Aramis winked to Charles a last time, just to see that the younger man now had Daniel’s full attention, straddling his lap. As Daniel had his back towards Aramis and Victor, the Stripper made sure to flip Charles the middle finger before he followed Victor outside.

The cold night air hit him immediately and Aramis cursed himself for forgetting his coat upstairs. As Victor placed a possessive arm around his waist and pulled him close, Aramis’ eyes searched the street for the guests car. But, apparently, Victor had different plans. Instead of driving him to his flat, he dragged Aramis into the next alleyway, surprising the younger man.

“Here?” Aramis asked, eyebrows raised. He tried to not let his shock show too much, but could not hold back a small quiver. Hopefully Victor would think it was from the coldness.

“Don’t want to wait nay longer. You’ve teased me long enough.”

The older man growled and pressed Aramis against the ice cold stone wall of the building. The Stripper gasped as his back hit the wall harder than expected, driving the air out of his lungs.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit cold?” He then asked, letting his hands roam over the fifty-year-old’s chest. He was walking on a fine line now. Trying to still seduce the man to not make him angry but searching for a more comfortable way to do so. Aramis had never done such a thing outdoors. After all he was not some cheap prostitute. This was far below his standards.

“Not for me. Now stop talking.” Victor growled and bucked his hip against Aramis’. The Stripper gulped but surrendered to his fate. So he angled his head to the side, as Victor kissed and licked along it. He felt his stomach twist and his chest to constrict as Victor’s greasy hands ripped his shirt open, and he was sure to have heard a few buttons fly through the air and hit the ground. The older man then opened his trousers and took a step back to open his own zipper. While Victor was still fully closed, only his dick out in the cold air, Aramis was almost naked.

Following Victor’s order, he fully stepped out of his trousers and pulled his boxer shorts down to his ankles. Aramis shivered as the cold air hit his skin and took a small step away form the wall, it’s coldness biting into him painfully. But Victor pushed him back against it, his eyes roaming hungrily over the Stripper’s body.

“Turn around.” Victor then ordered and Aramis did as he was told, presenting his ass to Daniel’s guest.

He whimpered as the older man hit his cheeks a few times with harsh slaps, his fingers scraping along the wall he was leaning against. He then prepared for rough and dry fingers to enter him but instead he felt Victor’s tip against his entrance.

“Wait.” Aramis gasped and tried to pull away, but the older man had a tight grip on his hips.

“You have to prepare me first or-“ He was stopped midsentence by another rough slap, whimpering at the sting. “Victor, you can’t-“

“Oh don’t act like a fucking virgin now.” Victor hissed, his tip pushing a little harder against Aramis’ entrance.

“At least use a condom then for fucks sake!” Aramis argued, trying to pull away again. Being fucked without preparation was one thing, being fucked without any lube was even worse and being fucked without a condom but a goddamned stranger in some filthy alley was something he couldn’t believe was happening.

“Don’t have one.” Aramis could almost HEAR Victors grin and before he could answer, the man pushed in him without mercy. Aramis shrieked at the intrusion, his muscles tensing at the burn. He put his head against the cold wall whimpering.

As Victor was completly inside him, he hoped he would get at least some time to adjust, but Victor had other plans. He pushed in and out in relentless, hard thrusts. Aramis had given up by them and tried to relax as much as possible but the pain just never went away. He was crying by the time Victor came inside him and pulled out with a grunt. Aramis was just catching his breath as he felt greasy hands around his own limp cock, stroking it roughly.

“N-No. I’m fine, stop.” He muttered and was actually surprised that Victor’s hand indeed pulled away.

“Say Daniel that I’ll make the Deal.” Another rough slap against his cheeks followed before Aramis heard Victor’s footsteps retreat.

Just then he found the strength to pull up his shorts and trousers again. Buttoning up the few buttons that were left on his shirt with trembling hands, Aramis put his head in the back of his neck, letting out a shuddering breath as he closed his eyes.

At least it wasn’t for nothing.

Aramis took another two minutes to gather his thoughts before he stepped out the alley as well, wincing at each careful step he took. He just wanted to shower and lie down under a thousand blankets but first he had to get back to the party and tell Daniel from the Deal. His boss would surely be proud of him and take him back to his side. Maybe Aramis could even take a hot bath in his tub.

Aramis was so in thoughts about Daniel that he missed the dark clothed man that stood just around the corner.

“Hey. Follow me. Inconspicous.” The man whispered and then took off towards another direction than the party was.  Aramis needed more time than he liked to connect one and one and then followed.

The Detective walked fast and Aramis had a hard time keeping up, trying to suppress an whimper every now and then. He breathed a sigh of relief as they finally came to a stop behind a pair of dumpsters in just another alley.

By the time they reached them, Aramis was completely frozen, his limbs trembling in a sad attempt to get warm again. As he stood in front of the Detective, arms crossed above his revealed chest and teeth chattering, he could bet to have seen a short glimpse of pity in the man’s eyes. Which actually, could have been anything as the night was dark and Detective Vallon wore a hood over his head, enveloping his face mostly in darkness.

“What the hell has Victor Amadeus to do with Jenkins?” Vallon hissed as he tied to wrap his head around it. He could imagine what the owner of a large logistic company could have to do with a human trafficking ring, but he needed confirmation. So he made sure that his recording device was on before René answered.

“Well, good evening to you too.” René answered sarcastically before he shrugged. “I don’t know. Victor and I are only… casual acquaintances.” He answered, somewhat truthfully.

Porthos huffed at that. “Didn’t look like it in the alley. Or do ‘casual acquaintances’ always moan each other names?”

René sighed, biting his lips as he thought about what he could say or not say. “Well yes, maybe Victor needed someone to… pursue him.”

“Pursue him to what?” Porthos asked harshly, grabbing René by his arms and pushing him against the dumpster. The Stripper whimpered at that and avoided his gaze, instead searching for a place at the ground to stare at.

“I don’t know. They don’t share things like that with people like me.”

As Porthos took away his right hand from René’s arm and raised it to stroke through his hair in frustration, he noticed how the Stripper flinched at the sudden movement. The Detective frowned at that but decided not to comment. Just like he had decided to not interfere as René had been used as a payment in the alley or not to comment as he limbed at their way to the alley. Afterall the Stripper had brought this on himself.

“You want to tell me that you let him fuck you and you don’t even know for what? Or do you enjoy being touched by a man that could be your father?”

René seemed to shrink at the words as he shook his head slightly. “I really do not know.” He answered, almost pleading.

Porthos studied him for a few moments, searching for a sign that he was lying but he found none. With a sigh, Porthos took a step back and nodded towards the vague direction of Jenkins’ flat.

“Okay. Get back to Jenkins now.”

René did not need telling twice. He hurried out of the alley as fast as his pain allowed him, anxious that someone could have seen him with the Detective. But the streets seemed empty.

As René came back to the Party, it was already coming to an end. There was only a handful of people left on the dance floor as well as Daniel and Charles snugging at the couch.

Not for much longer, Aramis thought triumphantly as he limbed over to the pair and clearing his throat as he came to an halt in front of them. Charles turned his head towards the sound from where he laid on his back, while Daniel sat back on his knees.

He arched his eyebrows in question at Aramis’ dishevelled look at what Aramis only shrugged. Daniel had seen him in much worse states.

“Victor asked me to pass on that he will sign the Deal.” Aramis watched how Daniel’s face went from irritation of being disturbed to joy. He grinned at the Stripper. “He did?” He then asked just to make sure. Aramis answered with a smile and nodded and he swore he could hear Charles curse as Daniel’s hand grabbed his wrist and pulled him close.

Aramis let his boss explore his mouth with his tongue and let his hand squeeze into his hurting cheeks.

“Well done, ‘Mis. I knew it was a good choice to let my best toy do the work.” Daniel praised before smacking Aramis’ bum a little harder than expected. Aramis managed to hold back the whimper and grinned from one ear to the other over the praise. He still was Daniel’s favourite.

But then Charles had to interfere again and tucked at Daniel’s necktie. The boss let himself be tugged down and forget himself in the mouth of the young man. Charles’ eyes flew over to Aramis for a short moment, lighting up in triumph. The older man shook his head and just turned to walk away.

But before he could take a second step, Daniel’s voice stopped him again. “I didn’t say you could leave. I want you both in my bed tonight.” And with that Daniel stood up and pulled Charles and Aramis along. Both men shot each other hateful glances behind their bosses back.

As much as Aramis wanted to be with Daniel, to know that he was still the best, he really wished he could have had the night off. His body arched everywhere, his fingers were still numb and frozen and he just wanted a bath to feel less dirty. He couldn’t clean himself yet and wondered how Daniel would react if he would find Victor’s come still leaking out of the hole of his favourite boy.

A few minutes later, Aramis found that Daniel found it very delightful.

Chapter Text

Aramis had been laying on the bed for over an hour now, switching from reading his new book, “The Musketeers”, to checking his phone to starring out of the windows, watching the pigeons on the balcony of the opposite house picking at some trash bags. His mind was restless, not able to focus on one thing for long. When he read, he barely remembered what happened half a page ago, his thoughts drifting to Daniel and Charles. He’d always known that his time as Daniel’s favourite was just as limited as everything else. But, naïve as he’d always been, he’d hoped that he could be lucky, that Daniel maybe saw more in him than just a young body. Obviously, his hope had been crashed once Charles got into the game. Right now, Daniel still wanted Aramis by his side more times than not, but the times in which Charles was there as well, were rising. Aramis wondered what he should do once Daniel rejected him once and for all.

He probably could work at the Strip Club for a few years longer, he still had his good paying customers. But without Daniel’s help, he would have to work more or search for something else. Otherwise he would not be able to pay the rent any longer. He would not be able to find a good job outside of Daniel’s world. After all his resume was a blank page, while his criminal record was neatly filled. Not to forget that Daniel would not let him leave. Once inside in his ‘family’ it wasn’t easy to get out. At least not alive. For that, Aramis knew too much.

He sighed, turning from his back to his side and grabbed his phone. But neither stalking some celebs on social media nor reading the news helped to reduce his worries.

He was only distracted from the downward spiral of his thoughts as the notification sound of a phone disturbed the otherwise silent room. He frowned shortly as no message popped up on his smartphone before he remembered the prepaid phone in his bedside table.

Detective Vallon had thrown it into his mailbox a few days prior, a little note stuck to it that he could contact him with the phone if he should ever need help or had anything to say. Aramis had first thought about throwing it int the Thames but then decided that it would be of no use to make the Detective angry. After all, Aramis had yet to do anything to help the police and he should not anger them further. So he had stashed the phone in the drawer and forgot about it until now.

He pulled it out of the drawer and unlocked it easily. He should really put a code in it, so no one could read his messages should Daniel or whoever find it, Aramis mused. But first, his eyes scanned the new message.

Unknown number
06 May 2020

We had a Deal. Which you have to full fill yet.
Give us something or we will overthink it.

Aramis sighed, knowing that it must be Detective Vallon who’d written the message. He could not hide and hope to be forgotten any longer. He had to snitch on Daniel or he would be arrested after all. But how? He could not risk that Daniel found out, furthermore he truly did not want to get Daniel into any real trouble.

As he pondered over what he could answer, Aramis decided that the best he could do was to get himself some more time. So he swiftly tipped in a message, saying that he was close to getting some information but would need some more time to get the details.

He promptly got an answer to that.

You have two days.

With that, Aramis put a pin code into the phone and then put it back into the drawer, sighing in defeat. He’d truly brought himself into more trouble now. He would have to investigate, search for something, anything to give to the police. But Daniel hadn’t invited him over to his house for the next few days and as far as he knew, Mat hadn’t scheduled any meetings at the Strip Club at the moment.  Of course, Aramis could still visit Mat, hoping that he was at home, and try to get something out of the man. He didn’t doubt that Mat would take him for a one-time-thing back, even though he didn’t want him for a long term relationship anymore. Mat wasn’t a man with many moral rules and he surely wasn’t above cheating. But Aramis feared that it would be quiet suspicious if he got back to Mat, asked him out over intern information and then the police would get involved.

No, this wasn’t an option.

Constance was the next person that came to his mind. He hasn’t visited her for days so it would not be suspicious if he went to the book shop today. Maybe he could distract her for some time, go into the back rooms and finally find out what happened there. And if not, he could still give Detective Vallon the tip to search the rooms anyways. He just would have to get Constance out of there before hand. She should not be involved into all of this.

Having made a decision, Aramis grabbed some fresh clothes, got ready and left his small apartment.

The walk toward the book shop was a short one, but he decided to take a longer route and get some pastries and coffee from the small bakery around the corner for the both of them. With both of his hands occupied with carrying the things he’d bought, he pressed the door open with his hip, greeting Constance with a broad smile.

“Mis!” She exclaimed, rushing around the counter to pull him into a hug once Aramis had put down the pastries and coffees. He chuckled at her excitement and returned the hug before he nodded at the seats by the window.

“It’s been some time since we’ve talked. C’mon.”

Aramis was already grabbing the Coffees and ready to walk over towards the sitting area as he saw the smile vanish from Constance’s face. The young woman shortly glanced towards the thick red curtain that separated the innocent book shop from the back rooms before she looked at him apologetic. “I’ve got some work to do, I’m sorry, ‘Mis.”

“Work?” He asked, a little defeated. He’d really looked forward to talk to her. But then he remembered why he’d originally came here for and saw his chance.

She shrugged with a nod. “Daniel wants some things to be done.” She explained vaguely, not wanting to get Aramis too involved in anything. She’d always tried to shield him for all the things that Daniel did but had always only succeeded partly.

“I could help? Now that I’ve come all this way just to see you.” He suggested innocently. If he just got one look into the back rooms… Of course he could tell Vallon to search them without knowing what was going on there, but he wanted to make sure that Daniel would not be in real danger if he snitched on him. He hoped that there were only a few drugs stored or something like that. Nothing that could be directly connected to his boss.

Constance smiled fondly at him but shook her head. As she grabbed one cup from his hands to nip at it, she explained: “It’s better you do not. You really don’t have to know about it.”

Aramis frowned at that. “You don’t have to protect me from anything, Constance. I already know about all the shit going on. I could at least help you at whatever you have to do and then we could have some time to talk.”

Constance sighed at that, her eyes wandering between the curtain and Aramis, before she shrugged.

“I guess you’re right. It’s nothing you didn’t know before.” With that, she took Aramis’ hand and  leaded him towards the curtain. But before she pulled it open, she stopped and turned back to him, concern now shimmering in her eyes.

“But don’t tell anyone that I let you see it. I don’t know if Daniel would approve of his lover to be involved.”

Aramis nodded at that, understanding where her worry came from. Daniel had never allowed his favourites to be too involved in his business, wanting to keep them all to himself and somewhat safe. And probably so that they could not gain too much information. Aramis already knew things about Daniel that none of his henchmen knew about, he probably should not know too much about his business as well.

Constance then pulled him through the curtain and around the corner into the next room. There were no windows to spend light, only unnatural white lamps illuminating the sparse room. Neither the walls nor the ground were renovated, having been left in the grey colour of concrete. There weren’t many pieces of furniture in the room. Only a large, metallic table that stood in the middle oof the room. Packages of white powder laid on it, beneath the table stood some cardboard boxes.

Of course, Aramis knew about the drug deals, has made some of them by himself in his younger years, has helped to store and hide them for Mat as well. Still, he was surprised at the sheer amount of cocaine in one room. He’d seen packages of a few hundred gram, sometimes even a kilo, but never so much.

“We have to pack them. Ten packages in each box.” Constance explained simply before she gave him a short glance. Aramis nodded and went right to work. He was glad that it were only drugs that he’d found. Nothing too disturbing, nothing he didn’t already know about or was involved in. On the other hand he doubted that Constance would have let him help with anything he didn’t already was a part of.

This, at least, was something he could tell the Detective. Daniel had always made sure to be not too involved in the Drug deals and Aramis was sure that they could not pin this to him. The only problem was Constance, who was constantly in the book shop and would surely be pulled into this.

While going over the monitory work of counting ten packs and putting them in a carboard box before closing it and putting it aside, he pondered over his options.

Maybe he could make another Deal with a police, forcing them to leave Constance out of this investigation. But he doubted that this would be successful. After all, Constance was one of the most important parts in Daniel’s organization and the police would surely would want to get their hands on her. As far as Aramis knew, Constance had managed to keep out of the police’s way quite well. He wasn’t sure if they even knew about her existence. He didn’t want to ruin this with giving them their name – even if it was to protect her.

No, he had to get her away from the store for some time.

“You know, I always wanted to see Manchester.” He then suddenly exclaimed as he closed another box, earning an amused smile from Constance.

“Why? It’s not a special town. Even smaller than London.”
“But it’s something else. Somewhere else. I’ve never been out of London before, I want to see another place.”

At that, Constance shortly looked up from her work and Aramis thought to see pity in her face, before she went back to her work.

“Never? Not even in Windsor to see the castle?”

Aramis shook his head, no. “There had never been the opportunity.”

“Maybe we could see it together. And then drive to Manchester.” Constance suggested and Aramis’ could have cheered at that. He couldn’t believe that the plan he’d worked out in less than a minute actually worked. Maybe he truly had luck for once.

“I would love that.” He answered honestly. He would not only keep Constance safe but also get to get out of London as well. He’d never give the idea to leave the town much thought as there just had never been the chance to, but now that he was so close to actually see something else, he was as excited as a little child that was about to go on a field trip. He wouldn’t know how a that would feel actually, but he liked to believe that it was like this now. He already thought about the best way to get to Windsor and Manchester, where they could sleep and what they would have to visit. He thought about how much money he could spend at the trip and then decided that he probably should do a few extra shifts at the Club beforehand.

“I need a few days to gather some money but we could leave on the 10^th?” he then suggested after calculating his finances. Constance gave it a short thought before she agreed happily.

“It’s been ages since I’ve made a trip without having to work. I will ask Mat to be at the shop then. He owes me one anyways.”

Aramis nodded at that. He hadn’t thought about that. Of course Constance would not just leave the shop unattended. But as much as he wanted keep Mat out of this as well, he didn’t see another way out. On the other hand, Mat had managed to save his own ass more than once, he surely would be able to talk himself out of this again as well.

René d’Herblay

08 May 2020

I’ve got something for you. But I need two more days. I’ll send you the details on the 10^th.

Porthos growled in frustration after he’d read the message to his team.
“He’s stalling. I don’t think he will ever help us, we should just arrest him.” Caleb answered just as angry.

This René had given them nothing to work with yet, he’s just trying to safe his own ass.

“We should give him this two days. Maybe he truly has something. If we don’t get what we need on the 10^th we still can arrest him then.” Amy then suggested calmly. She wanted information just as much as her colleagues but it didn’t hurt to wait two more days. After all, this René guy wasn’t a real danger to anyone and it didn’t matter when exactly he would be arrested. They wanted Jenkins and no one else and if it meant to have to wait two days, then they could wait two days.

“Alright. But if he doesn’t give us something then, I’ll find every crime he’d committed. He won’t be out of prison before he’s old and grey.” Porthos promised and the others nodded in agreement.
After all, they’ve given the Stripper a one time chance to turn his life around. If he didn’t want to, they could ruin his life once and for all.

“He would not survive a month in prison anyways.” Caleb added, not feeling sorry for René a little bit. He’d brought this on himself after all and their time was running out. They’d already spend a whole month on running after empty promises and tips, they needed something, soon.

“Anything new from Fere?” Porthos then asked, changing the topic as he remembered their agent in the hospital. If René didn’t give them the information they need, maybe Fere could once he woke up. If he woke up.

Caleb’s eyes widened at this, just like he’d remembered something he’d almost forgotten and shot a glance at the clock. “Yes, actually. The doctors wanted to try to let him wake up around twelve. We should visit the hospital in the afternoon and see if he’s wake and lucid.”

The procedure of getting someone to wake out of a coma was obviously not as easy as the Detectives had thought. Since the early afternoon they’d waited in the hospital, anxious about any information Detective Fere could give them. It was  8pm now and there were still nurses and doctors entering and leaving his room every few minutes. He’d woken up a few hours ago, but apparently wasn’t conscious enough to answer any questions yet. The doctors had suggested that they go home and come back the next day but neither of them wanted to wait a minute longer to finally get answers to all their questions. If Fere could testify that it was indeed Jenkins who’d tried to kill him they could finally arrest him.

It was two hours later, Caleb and Amy almost nodding off in their seats, as a nurse finally informed them that they could talk to Fere now for a few minutes.

The three of them almost jumped to their feet and hurried towards the room, entering it then more cautiously.

Weren’t it for his dozy, open eyes, you could have thought that Fere was still in a coma. There were tubes and machines all around him, beeping loudly. His face was still pale and dark circles beneath his eyes didn’t indicate that he’d slept for almost a month. Eventhough he looked like he would fall dead in any second, his eyes were focused and studied the three Detectives as they entered.

“It’s good to see you awake, Olivier.” Caleb started with a small smile and took the seat beside the bed. Fere just nodded at that before his eyes drifted to the other two Detectives, standing discreetly by the opposite wall.

“You’re not here to inform yourself of my well being.” Fere then stated, his voice still rough and dry from the lack of uses and the tube that had been forced down his throat only hours ago.

“Unfortunately that’s right. These are Detective Vallon and Detective Lloyd. We’re working on the Jenkins case together.” Caleb introduced before he eyed Fere critically.

“Are you up to tell us what has happened?” He then asked, deciding that it would be best if the person Fere knew took over the talking. Porthos and Amy agreed to that silently, content to just listen.

Olivier cleared his throat as he nodded slightly. He frowned as he thought back to what happened to him before he awoke in the hospital, finding it hard to put the fuzzy memories in a logical order.

“I’m not sure I remember everything right, though. It’s all a bit blurred.” He said apologetic. He knew how bad the Detectives wanted to save this case. Knew how horrible Jenkins deeds had been, has experienced it first hand.

“My cover was blown. One of the drug dealers had recognized me. It was stupid, I should have known it before and shouldn’t have to the meeting.” Olivier sighed, shaking his head at his own dumbness.

“It’s okay, it happened to the best.” Caleb assured, placing a gentle hand on the Detective’s shoulder. Fere obviously didn’t believe a single word but nodded nevertheless.

“Gabriel Kingsley and Mathew Ackroyd where there. They dragged me into an alley and- I couldn’t fight them off – I’ve shot Gabriel in the leg but Mathew –“ Olivier shook his head, avoiding everyone’s eyes as he looked at his hands in shame. He should not have lost this fight. He’d been trained for situations like this, but he’d been surprised. “I don’t remember much after the first hit against my head. I’m sorry. Jenkins wasn’t there, hasn’t given a direct order as much as I can tell.”

They nodded, Amy writing everything down to analyse it later.

“We’ve got a new informer, someone from the inside. Does the name René say anything to you?” Porthos then asked cautiously, not wanting to overwork the exhausted Detective but needing answers anyway.

Fere frowned and shook his head, no. “Do you have a picture?”

Porthos nodded, showing him René’s mugshot.

“Oh right.” Olivier remembered. “He’s called Aramis. I’ve seen him on the parties, nice guy. He’s Daniel toy boy as much as I remember. But I can’t really believe that he’s willing to snitch on him?”

Porthos sighed at this. “Yes, it’s difficult. He hasn’t given us much to work with yet. But we’ve got some investigations running against him so either he tells us something or he’s going to be arrested.”

“Before you’ve got attacked, you’ve said something about something big going t happen in September. Have you got to know more about it?” Caleb then asked and Fere seemed to need a few moments to actually remember what he meant.

“Not much. But I think it’s another shipment. Jenkins had talked about it with a woman… Constance, I think. I couldn’t hear everything though as they’d talked in a different room. But I had the feeling that this woman played a very important part in all of this. Maybe, if you get her you can get Jenkins.”

“Do you think she’s in some kind of relationship with Jenkins? How does she look?” Amy then asked but Detective Fere just shrugged.

“I can try to tell it a phantom picture painter.” Fere suggested to which the Detectives agreed.

“I will also ask our informant about her. Maybe he knows her.” Porthos added and already pulled out the prepaid phone he got to contact him.

He was pleased to get an answer almost immediately.

I’ve seen her once or twice on his parties. She’s not from London, I think. I don’t know more about her.

Porthos sighed. This didn’t help them. “I swear, he’s the most useless informant we’ve ever had. If the thing on the 10^th isn’t something big…”