Please tell me you brought really good painkillers

Who: Jakob and Sam
Where: Station/Sam's apartment
When: Night (not long after the attack)

Sam didn't know how long she'd been laying on the ground at the park. She was kind of floating in the hazy aftermath for awhile, trying to get her wits about her. Her face felt like she'd been slammed face-first into the ground. She'd downed the rest of her flask and Sam wouldn't be able to say how she managed to get back into her apartment. She went through the back, not the front, to avoid being stopped by the well meaning doorman.

Her heart was pounding the entire time, and she didn't realize how scared she was that Johnny and his boys would be waiting for her but her apartment was thankfully empty except for the goldfish bowl on the kitchen counter. First, she went to the icebox, grabbing a pack of frozen carrots and slapping it on her swollen left eye. She needed.... she needed to call Jakob. Yes. Jakob. But it was late. Would he be at the station still?

Sam didn't care. She just needed to call someone and God, she couldn't call her father or grandfather. Not yet. Awkwardly, she punched in the number to the direct line to their desks. Please be there, please be there. Fuck, Sam, don't cry. You are too strong to cry.

Jakob was, in fact, at the station still. He'd come straight back after meeting with Eris, retrieving the files on Brett Trent from the records department and blending them with his active cases, creating a perfect illusion of activity while he took his time studying them. He needed to work delicately, to create a trail similar to the very one he'd destroyed, to hint at Trent's former deep-cover status.

Honestly, it was fun, trying to out-perform himself like this, to beat his own handiwork. Which made the blaring ring of the phone on his desk a severe annoyance, one that drew a look of ire from Jakob as he glanced around the largely-empty station house. Of course a case call would come in now, there was always a fresh body ready to pop up at the worst possible moment, inconveniencing him more than the victim. Sighing, Jakob flipped his file shut and snagged the phone. "Hollis, Homicide department."

Sam felt her body relax (at least somewhat). Her hand was shaking so hard that she could barely keep the phone against her ear. "Oh, thank God," she said breathlessly, instead of acting as calm as she thought she was going to feel. At least she hadn't started crying yet.

"Samantha?" Jakob murmured, recognizing her voice effortlessly, and picking up on the sheer distress in it a moment later. He scowled reflexively, never liking a surprise like this to come his way. Sure, sometimes it could be fun to puzzle out, but with her? Well, he liked Sam, he respected a keen mind when he encountered one. And clearly, something was wrong. "What's wrong? Where are you?"

She didn't say anything, not immediately anyway. What's wrong? Well, a lot was wrong and Sam couldn't make her mouth open and tell him where she was. "I-I-I-I...." She took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Stay calm, you've seen worse, Tyler. This isn't so bad. "I'm at my apartment," she said, so quiet that Sam wasn't even sure she'd spoken. "I need... this isn't a homicide, I-I-I shouldn't ev-ev-en be calling you." Deep breaths, Samantha. Deep breaths.

"Are you hurt?" he asked first, even if the itch in his mind wanted all of the details right away, "Is anyone else hurt?" Jakob was already readying himself, bracing the phone between ear and shoulder as he gathered his files, stacking them in a mix to conceal the ones related to his work for Eris. "I'm your partner, Samantha, of course you should be calling. Just... tell me if I need a first aid kit, and where I'm going. Everything else will wait until I'm there."

"Um, the Rafferty building, the one with all the glass on it." Jakob would know the one she was talking about, it was right by the park, upper class all the way but Sam didn't want to think about the questions that it would probably raise on his end. She took a moment to take another deep breath and she groped for her flask but dammit, it was empty. "Top floor, 5D. Some extra pain killers wouldn't go amiss. M-maybe some of those c-ch-cheese fries from last night," she added lamely, trying to lighten the mood but her voice was cracking and it was getting harder to talk instead of crying.

Jakob knew exactly where it was, in fact, since it was only a block or two from his own lavish apartment. That revelation made him smirk privately, though the concern never wavered in his voice. "Whatever happened, lock your doors. Give me twenty minutes and I'll be there," he promised unfalteringly, putting real resolve and concern behind the words. He was concerned, but there was too much unknown for Jakob to view the whole scenario as more than a curiosity at the moment. "It'll be okay," he added, "I'm on my way right now."

"Thanks," Sam said. "There's a spare key to my place at the bottom of my pen mug." She'd find a new hiding place for it later but she wasn't sure if she'd have the energy to get up and answer the door when he showed up. "See you in a few." She hung up, unable to stay on the phone any longer and sunk to the kitchen floor, holding thawing carrots to her face and trying not to cry with each movement of her lower body.

He didn't leave immediately, as it happened. Jakob lingered for a minute or two, placing a call to Nighthawk's, fishing the key from Sam's desk where she'd told him to look, and even skimming her case files for a hint of what she may have been working on that had prompted the call.

He had to mentally chide Sam for leaving such an obvious trail, the file right on top was one for an Arun Tang, a suspected Lotus soldier. "Well... Johnny. We'll have to speak soon," Jakob murmured, committing the sparse details to memory before he plucked his pain medications from his own desk, tossed on his overcoat, and was gone into the night. The city seemed quiet as he drove, cutting a swath through the dark with his headlights, but Jakob knew it never was. There was always a pulse, always some pooling of life for a purpose of some kind. Often, he knew what that purpose was. Tonight? He was frustratingly clueless.

But he was watchful at every point of the night, starkly aware as he stopped at Nighthawk's, nearly paranoid when he raided his own home for medical supplies and a bottle of scotch. Bits of foot traffic, the odd car, but nothing that seemed out of place, nothing that suggested someone was watching his partner. So finally, just a few minutes beyond his promised arrival? Jakob stepped from the elevator in the Rafferty building, eyes narrow and shrewd as he adjusted the bags in each arm and moved for Sam's door. His shoulder ached as he let one bag hang, finagling the key into the lock and easing the door open. "Sam?" Jakob called inside, "It's me."

"In the kitchen," Sam called, voice choked with what she was most certainly not calling tears. She was a sight to see. Her face was half swollen, lips split and still covered with dry blood that had run on her chin. There was dirt on her clothes, some mud and salt. Blood where there shouldn't be any blood. "Brought pain killers?" She didn't want Jakob to see her like this. She didn't want anyone to see her like this. Her crying lessened a little as something caught her nose. "You brought me fries?"

Jakob Hollis was rarely shocked. He was a man who, not two days earlier, had been cracking jokes about a corpse whose genitals were removed. He'd been doing so with her, and maybe that was part of the shock. They were supposed to be above this, removed from the violence except as custodians. But Sam had obviously found some, and that realization woke something dark in his stomach, something cold and ugly.

He couldn't recognize it for what it was in that first moment, instead just nodding at both of her questions as he looked at her with wide eyes. Slow steps brought him towards the kitchen, and Jakob carefully settled both bags on the counter before he moved closer to Sam, seeming to hesitate as he started to reach for her chin. "Who did this?" he asked in a near-whisper.

She immediately pushed his hand away, not wanting to be touched. "Please tell me you brought really good painkillers," she said through her tears, setting her makeshift ice pack aside to try wipe the tears off her face. Crying through an eye that was all but swollen shut hurt like a bitch. She was ashamed that he was seeing her like this when she'd gone through such pains in the workplace to prove that she was not some emotional society girl. Even at the ball the other night, she'd made efforts around her colleagues not to be like the rest of the women her age. Would he request that she ask for a transfer or remove herself from the job?

This was awkward, definitely, but she wasn't ready to face her father and grandfather yet. As soon as she did, she'd be taken home, or, if they respected her wishes, she'd have guards outside the door at all times.

Jakob's gaze never left her injuries as he opened a bag, hefting the scotch free by the neck of the bottle and following it with his pills in his other hand. "What I was given for my shoulder," he murmured, "Now tell me, Sam, please. Who did this to you? What happened?"

"Ah, this is the good stuff," Sam said, taking the pills and spirits and avoiding his question. At least for the moment. She dry swallowed the pills and chugged down a good portion of the bottle, already feeling the warmth spread through her aching limbs. "Walking through the park after dinner. Four guys thinking they were ninjas came out." She was a little calmer now. At least, she wasn't crying any more. She chased away the images threatening to come back with another swig of the scotch. "They've got my gun still." Sam looked up at him then, through her one good eye. She wondered if he'd seen the file on her desk but she wasn't sure if she should say any more. Jakob was a "golden boy" himself. Star of the ECPD. If she said anything close to having her family take care of the problem... well, she wasn't sure if she wanted to find out what would happen to her.

"Did you get a good look at any of them?" he probed, knowing she must've. It wasn't easy to pass the detective's exam, and one of the most vital skills was the eye for detail. Sam had it in spades, and she'd seemed tough enough to keep her wits about her even under assault. So if she shot down the question? She was hiding something. "If one of them took your service weapon, we'll need to act quickly. A loose gun on the street is a dangerous variable. Now..." he trailed, looking her over more critically, forcing past the shock, "Where are you injured and what hurts the worst?"

"I'm not going to the hospital," she said immediately. "I just need the day off tomorrow and I'll be fine." She didn't want to say it. She didn't want to say how she pretty much let him do it. The gun though, that was something that she could focus on and she latched onto it. "Three of them had their own guns. They felt like revolvers. Standard size from what I could tell. Their... ringleader, didn't bring out any weapons but they gave him my gun. He'll keep it as a trophy." Sam flexed her hand, trying to think of what else she could say without giving it away, to keep her family out of trouble. "I... I've got a photographic memory. I can draw him out for you but... my hand really hurts." She had landed on it awkwardly when she fell and it was starting to ache.

She didn't want to say that Johnny had raped her.

He'd seen behavior like this before, the anxiety that stemmed from far more than just a beating. It rarely resulted in arrests or prosecution, and since the victims were always alive? It never fell under Jakob's scope. This? This screamed of a more personal violation than a simple beating. "No hospitals," Jakob assured her, shaking his head, "We'd have to file a report in that case. I intend to find your weapon without oversight from the chief. Just describe them for me in as much detail as possible, stomach what food you can, and let me see to your injuries." He still had that clipped manner that was never fully shaken, but there was more relatability than normal for Jakob in this instance. Of course, it stemmed from his need for details so that he could put his own plans in action.

Sam immediately wrapped her arm around her midsection. Her ribs ached and she knew she'd be covered in bruises. "Just my face... I don't want it to scar or anything," she said quietly. He wasn't pushing, at least, he wasn't pushing in the places that she didn't want him to push and Sam was grateful, but also guilty. He was being so good about this, had been so good about everything, and Sam felt like she owed him something. "It was... fuck, I don't know how to say any of this." She could tell him who had done it, and since there wasn't a report being filed, then she wouldn't have to worry about an investigation.

For everything she wasn't saying, she was still telling Jakob plenty. Hugging her ribs, mentioning her injured hand, stumbling over the details of what she claimed was just a beating. He had a game in mind, one he planned on playing with her attackers, one they'd remember. "Say as little or as much as you can," he assured Sam gently, plucking a handkerchief from his pocket and running it under the tap. "I know that an account given under duress is unreliable, besides which, you're my partner, not my victim." He smiled a little, hesitating before he gently swabbed the wet kerchief at Sam's temple, wiping away a bit of grime carefully. "I count so few friends that I can shuffle my cards when I'm done, you know. But I count you."

"Thanks," she mumbled, staying still as he started wiping at the muck on her face. Sam took another drink, numbness now spreading over her body. She was pretty sure it was from the scotch and the painkillers, not from shock, so Sam allowed herself to relax and she her eyes. "So this is all off the record? No report, no nothing?" No paper trails?

That was what he'd wanted, had waited to start seeing. She was relaxing, trusting him, giving up a few of the defensive tells. "If that's what you wish, yes," Jakob murmured as he cleaned Sam, taking the opportunity to study the contours of her face. "Assault only becomes our business if it's reported, yes? You're off-duty, I am too... it can stay between us if you choose." He smiled slightly, grabbing the bottle from her hand for a quick swallow before he returned it. "The last thing I want is for you to receive a citation, or any sort of grief from the brass. You're a good cop, Sam, no matter how most of our brethren view women on the force."

Sam snorted then winced as pain shot through her face. Okay, maybe she wasn't totally numb yet. "God, I don't wanna go into work after this." She was a complete mess. Maybe going home wouldn't be such a bad idea after all. She knew there were dirty cops all over the force. With the way this city worked, it would be impossible not to have a few in the pocket of one of the families. Jakob didn't seem like one, but then, her cousin, Ian, seemed genuine to most people too. "I'm pretty sure it was the guy from Chinatown I interviewed about the Black case," she said finally. "I'm not positive because his face was covered, but he had something to do with it."

Arun Tang. It was good that Sam's eyes were shut as Jakob cleaned her, because that particular detail sparked something in his eyes. He had his mark now, he knew just who he could call to find the man too. It might cost him, but a few nights down at the Drake would recoup his losses, surely. "I'll have to check the case files," Jakob said, carefully tilting Sam's chin up so he could clean a smear of grime from her neckline, "But I know a person or two who know Chinatown. I'll be discreet, you have nothing to worry about there."

Lowering the kerchief, Jakob turned back to the bags he'd brought with him, fishing out a little jar of salve. It was a homemade recipe, one he'd learned from his mother years ago, but it had done wonders for the inflammation in his shoulder. "Try to ignore both the sting and the smell," he warned Sam, dabbing some on his fingertip and touching it lightly on the outer edges of both splits on her lip. "And I'm sure you can manage a few days of leave. I've noticed that the desk clerk only needs to say 'female troubles' and she manages herself a four day weekend," he added with a light snort, trying to give her a touch of humor.

"Doesn't hurt too bad," she murmured. Oh, these were some nice drugs. Real nice drugs. She'd have to find out what they were later, as she could see them becoming very handy. Slowly, she reached up and grabbed his wrist, holding it tightly to keep his attention and convey any gravity that she wasn't able to articulate. "If you ever got in trouble, I'd help you, you know," she said quietly, peering at him through her good eye. "Any kind of trouble." It was a test, in a way, the testing of boundaries. Jakob was a tough nut to crack, even if she could maybe glean a little, she still didn't know all that much about him. He was the kind of guy that she suspected quite possibly knew everything there was to know about her and was keeping quiet to see if she'd tell him herself. Another game.

It wasn't hard to effect a look of surprise, edging it with some small measure of endearment when Sam told him that. His lips parted like he was about to speak, and Jakob feigned a loss of words for a moment, nodding slightly. "I... I'm fortunate for that, Sam. I hope I never need you to prove as much, but it is a good feeling, knowing as much. 'Gdzie zgoda tam i siła', after all," he murmured, switching to his inherited tongue for the briefest of moments. "Now, can you stand? I'd suggest a shower, but I think a good night's sleep will do you more good. And washing your sheets is a small price to pay, no?"

Sam squeezed his wrist tighter. "You sound like my cousin," she told him seriously. "And people like to think he's as genuine as he sounds." It could almost be considered a warning, although what kind of warning, neither of them could be quite sure.

Reaching up with his other hand, Jakob settled his grip far more lightly around the base of Sam's hand as she held his in place. "I will be the first to say I am no saint," he told her evenly, looking into Sam's good eye, "In fact, conventional wisdom would suggest you steer clear of me. But until you request a transfer or file a complaint, I promise you that I will be honest with you, Samantha. You've done nothing to suggest you deserve less from me... and I am not your cousin." Though he wondered, amidst the lies, who her cousin was. The files that need reading are stacking higher and higher, Jakob mused as he waited to see if she would take him at his word.

"No, you aren't," she said. "But you are still like him." She gave him a crooked ghost of a smile. "Both good with words." Sam watched him closely, detecting any hints of planning or thought behind his eyes. She trusted him, but she wasn't sure of him either. "I might be thinking too highly of myself, but if you're thinking of going after Arun Tang, don't."

The problem with trying to read Jakob's eyes was that the gears were always turning behind them, he was always considering the angles. "Arun Tang, that's his name?" Jakob asked, shaking his head over her protest. "I'm going to check the files from Organized Crime and form a pattern of movement, put out word to some associates of mine, and wait for results," he went on, smiling a bit, "I am fond of working with you, but I'm not quite ready to practice vigilante justice."

Sam smiled a little more genuinely this time. "That's because I'm Batman, and you're Robin." She let go of his wrist, dropping her hand back in her lap. "Gettin' too big for your britches ain't a good thing, kiddo." That... didn't entirely make sense, but the drugs and the alcohol were really taking effect. "M'gonna call my mom. She'll take care of everything." Marcelina Giacomo-Tyler was going to flip a lid but at least there wouldn't be any sort of awkwardness that would come with Jakob trying to get her to her room. She needed to shower and change clothes and wrap her ribs and everything.

"Are you sure?" Jakob asked, giving Sam an uncertain smile as she joked at him, "I can get you to bed, if needed. Or... maybe I'm overstepping, but I could stay on your sofa, if you'd like. In case you need anything." The offer was almost entirely innocent, the only ulterior motive being that he wanted her to trust him, to rely on him. The sofa even looked like it'd be comfortable.

"Jakob, this is the one aspect of my life that you are not ready to handle," she told him. Not because her mother was Marcelena Giacomo. Not because she'd storm in spewing Italian obscenities, but because it would be with armed bodyguards with records and talk of The Family.

"Your mother trumps our jobs," Jakob mused dryly, a flash of amusement lighting on his face for a moment, "Color me curious, but fair enough." He stepped back, capping the salve and lining it up next to the carryout food he'd brought from Nighthawk's. Jakob hesitated for a moment before he dished out a small handful of his pain medications, grinning to Sam again. "Don't tell my doctor. The only reparation I expect is a call each day you take away from work, to let me know how you're mending. Fair enough?"

"Fair enough," she agreed. "By the way, those painkillers are awesome. So's the scotch." Although there didn't seem to be any of it left. Oh well, she had bottles around the apartment somewhere. "Like... really nice." She thought about getting up but the idea of attempting to stand up on half-numb legs wasn't appealing. "Bring the phone done here, would ya? And, uh, thanks. For everything."

"Make them last, it's a non-refillable prescription," Jakob cautioned with a wink, "The salve will help too, trust me." He stepped from the kitchen, glancing around for Sam's phone and chuckling at the lengthy cord affixed to it. "Do you like to wander your home while you talk?" he teased, grabbing the phone and lugging it out to her. "No thanks needed, Sam. I'm just glad you're okay, really. You're not someone I ever want to encounter as a case." He set the phone down for her, head shaking for a moment. "Feel better. I'll talk with you again soon," Jakob told her, turning to head out the way he'd entered.

Sam watched him leave, hearing the door lock behind her. She let herself slump over onto the cool tile of the kitchen floor and she pulled the phone close to her and dialed her parents' number.