Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A note to any readers: I do not own Common Law, the characters, USA, or anything like that. I was so disappointed that the show was cancelled that I decided to try and write out stories like episodes, to make up for the loss. I don’t claim to be anywhere close to the level the writers of the show are at skill-wise. I’m just trying to fill the void that the cancellation left as best I can.

This is all for fun, no profit was made on this. I decided to write it out like a story and not a script 1) Because I don’t know how to write a script properly and 2) I wanted to make you believe you were watching the show as best I could. I think it’s much nicer to read it this way. Just my opinion. I should also note that some of the transitions may be harsher than they would be in a novel. This is because I’m trying to describe a tv show-like picture in my head. So… don’t get mad asdfkjldsf

Also, I definitely do not claim to know anything about therapy or detective work or the art world or anything else that I may delve into in these. I am flying by the seat of my pants, occasionally making crap up. It’s all for fun, right? No need to get fussed over details.

With those things in mind, enjoy my version of what Season 2 of Common Law might have looked like.

Chapter Text

“We’re going to play ‘Something Good, Something Bad.’ You say something you like about your partner, and they say something they like about you. You say something you dislike about your partner, and they say something they dislike about you,” Dr. Ryan explained, crossing her legs.

“Are you sure we can’t have a list? Because I have a list of things I dislike about Travis,” Wes said. Travis rolled his eyes.

“I can’t help that you’re so uptight, baby.”

Wes’ eyes narrowed and he leaned over on his knees. “Okay, fine. May I go first?”

Dr. Ryan nodded once.

“One thing I like about my partner… he’s a damn good detective.”

Travis looked smugly happy at that comment.

“One thing I dislike about my partner, he calls me baby.”

Travis’ face immediately fell to an over-exaggerated frown. “What the hell is wrong with that?”

“I’m not your baby. No wonder people think we’re a couple. Pet names like that should not be used unless you’re intimate with a person.”

“Intimate? You saying we’d have to have sex before you’d allow me to call you ‘baby?’ Noooo thank you,” Travis said, crossing his arms in front of him.

“No. By intimate I just meant romantic relations.”

“I think I’ll pass on that, too.”

“So, Wes, are you saying the pet name makes you uncomfortable?” Dr. Ryan asked. Wes shifted awkwardly in his chair.

“It’s just odd.”

“And Travis, are you saying you won’t call Wes that anymore?”

Travis shrugged. “It doesn’t mean anything. If I want to say it, I’ll say it.”

Wes glared at him, Travis ignored it, and they were running short on time. Dr. Ryan sighed.

“Perhaps, Wes, you could explore the reasoning behind why he uses pet names. And Travis, maybe you could try and figure out why pet names bother Wes.”

They looked at each other, wearing the same displeased expression on their faces.

 

“Accepting all the good and bad about someone. It's a great thing to aspire to. The hard part is actually doing it.”
― Sarah Dessen, What Happened to Goodbye

 

Wes and Travis pulled up at the crime scene of their next case. The partners got out of the car and ducked under the crime scene tape. They were met by a cop familiar to them.

“Hey, fellas.”

“Hey, man,” Travis said to the bigger man, “How you doing? You and your wife finally go to therapy?”

“Yeah, man! It’s all touchy-feely and weird, but the first night after? We had sex all night long.”

Travis grinned and Wes made a face. “You and Sutton really should talk. What’ve we got?”

“We’ve got a young blond female, approximately thirty years-old. She has no ID on her. But she does have a big ol’ diamond ring on her hand. She was found earlier this morning by a couple boys playing in the park.

They walked over to the body, which was hidden behind a statue. Travis leaned down, studying the woman.

“No purse. Why would the murderer steal her purse, but not the ring? Unless he was in a rush to get the ID and took the whole thing. Now we just gotta figure out her name and-”
He suddenly noticed there wasn’t an annoying voice interrupting him. He turned back to Wes. His partner’s face was grim, his lips pressed together.

“Her name’s Dana Colton.”

Travis frowned. “How the hell do you know that?”

“…She was my girlfriend in college.”

 

COMMON LAW

 

The silence was overwhelming on the way to their first interrogation for the case. Travis opened his mouth.

“Don’t. ask.” Wes interrupted. Travis made a face at him. He looked down at the picture of a smiling Dana in his hands.

“Come on, man. How?”

Wes sighed. “How what?”

“How did you score a hottie like that and then Alex later? Did you used to have game or something? What the hell happened, baby?”

“I refuse to answer that,” Wes said, parking and getting out of the car. Travis rolled his eyes and followed him to the front door.

“Her maiden name was Colton, married name is Tucker.” Wes furrowed his brows and knocked on the door. A large, handsome man answered the door. Travis noticed Wes flinch ever so slightly. Travis almost flinched, too. The guy looked like he was ready to punch someone, and his booming voice was terrible on the ears.

“What do you… Stick Figure?”

Wes frowned. “It’s Wes Mitchell.”

“Stick Figure?” Travis asked, trying not to smile.

“Yeah! This guy was the skinniest guy in college. We nicknamed him Stick Figure because he looked like one.” He paused. “Still kinda does…”

“Detective, this is Brandon Tucker. Mr. Tucker, this is Detective Marks.”

“No need to be so formal, Stick. Why’d you bring a detective?” Brandon asked, looking between them curiously.

Wes sighed. “It’s Detective Mitchell now. I’m a cop.”

“I thought you wanted to be an accountant.”

“A lawyer. That… didn’t work out.”

“Right. Well, as much as I’d love to stay and chat, I should go. I’m starting to get worried. My wife hasn’t come back.”

Travis took a breath. It didn’t look like Wes wanted to explain, so it was up to him.

“Mr. Tucker, I’m sorry to tell you that your wife is dead.”

Brandon looked horrified. He put a hand to his mouth.

“What happened?”

“It looks like it was a homicide. We’re very sorry for your loss.”

Brandon slammed his hand against the door frame, causing Wes and Travis to jump.

“Who the hell would have killed her?!”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out, sir,” Travis said, “Now, if you don’t mind, could we come in and ask a few questions?”

Brandon nodded, opening his door so they could walk in. It was a very nice home. The Tuckers obviously had expensive taste. They walked into a living room.

Travis couldn’t help but be distracted. “You have a lot of paintings on your walls.”

“Uh… yeah. We do,” Brandon said, looking up at him curiously. “Dana painted them.”

“Really?” Wes asked doubtfully. Brandon nodded.

“She actually owns a gallery. Called Spectrum.”

 

Travis looked over at Wes’ face as they climbed into the car. He wasn’t wearing his usual scowl. There was something harsher in his eyes.

“Wes, buddy?”

“What?”

“What are you thinking?” Travis asked, propping his feet on the dash. Glancing at the murderous look on Wes’ face, he sighed and put his feet back on the floor.

“I’m thinking that we’ve already got our guy.”

Travis stared. “You? You never think anyone’s guilty right off the bat.”

“Yeah, well, I do now,” he said, putting his hand on the shift gear. Travis put a hand on his, stopping him from switching gears.

“Did she cheat on you with him?”

Wes pressed his lips together. “Yes.”

Travis gave him a look. Wes sighed.

“It’s not clouding my judgment. You work cases with women you’ve dated.”

“Yeah, but they’re not dead!”

“You’re dead to them,” Wes said with a smirk, shaking off his hand and driving off.

“Man, did you just tell a joke? …I’m proud of you, baby.”

 

The two detectives stepped into the gallery, admiring the paintings, photographs, and sculptures. It was a very modern-looking place, with white walls and floors. A short man with thinning hair approached them.

“Finally. We’ve been waiting all day for you two.”

Wes and Travis exchanged a confused look.

“This way, this way,” he said, walking quickly through the maze of art. They hurried to catch up with him.

“Sir, are you sure-”

“No time to talk,” he snapped, opening a door and walking into a small art studio. It was set up with a background and lights. A photographer was waiting by his camera. And two women in nothing but towels were waiting.

“Sir, we’re not-”

Travis whacked Wes in the stomach. “-afraid to let loose.”

“Well, good. If you would undress and step on the set, we’ll get started.”

“We’re not models!” Wes finally managed to say, rubbing his stomach. He pushed aside his jacket, revealing his badge. “We’re detectives.”

“But if the ladies want to stay-”

This time, Wes got Travis in the stomach.

“Ow!”

“You started it,” Wes said, crossing his arms.

“Gentlemen, please. If you’ll come into the office.”

They were led to an office in the back, Travis taking one last glance and grinning at the smiling models before sitting in one of the chairs.

“So what was all that about?” Travis asked. The man looked at him disapprovingly, rubbing the base of his finger.

“I’m making a statement with the human body.”

“What a coincidence! Travis likes to do that, too,” Wes said, an evil glint in his eye. Travis shook his head.

“Nope. No, he’s mistaken. If we could just ask a few questions about Dana Tucker, the owner, Mr. …?”

“Rodriguez. As for Dana? Great artist, horrible bitch.”

Wes raised his eyebrows. “How so?”

The artist sighed in exasperation. “We all share this studio and share the gallery, but Dana owns the whole thing. Her fees are ridiculous.”

“When did you last see her?”

“Sunday.”

“The night of the murder?” The detectives exchanged looks.

Mr. Rodriguez bristled. “Yes, the night of the murder, but I didn’t kill her.”

“Why did you meet with her?”

“Business. We went over some details, and I left her. Alive. Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have two male models to track down,” Mr. Rodriguez snapped, waving a dismissal and stalking out of the office.

“He left in a hurry,” Travis observed. Wes started looking around in the office.

“This was Dana’s office, not Mr. Rodriguez’s.”

Travis looked over at the photos on the wall. “Man, I think maybe you’re wrong. She looks pretty damn happy with your buddy, Stick.”

“Don’t call me that. The office is pretty clean-”

“Aw, don’t tell me you two were the neat-freak couple. I just can’t believe there was another you in female form.”

Wes glared. “She wasn’t like me at all. If she made the office this clean, it meant she changed after college.”

“Which most people do-”

“Sometimes,” Wes tapped his finger to his lips, “But other people have access to this office. And there are no papers in the filing cabinet.”

“Which means someone didn’t want us up in Dana’s business’ business,” Travis finished for him.

Wes nodded, closing the drawers and slipping back out. Travis followed him before spotting the photographer sitting off to the side, twisting a ring around his finger nervously. Travis walked over to him.

“Hey, I’m Detective Marks. This is my partner, Detective Mitchell. Could I ask you a few questions about Mrs. Tucker?”

The photographer glanced around before nodding. “Just ask before he comes back. He’ll be in a rage if you hold up the shoot.”

“Did you know Mrs. Tucker?”

“Yeah, I talked to her a few times. Not the most pleasant person on the planet, but she lets us use the studio, so,” He trailed off, shrugging a little.

“Who has access to that office?” Wes asked, pointing in the direction they had just come from.

“Tons of people. Mrs. Tucker, David…”

“David?”

“David Rodriguez, any of the people who rent the studio,” he rolled his eyes and muttered, “And anyone in Dana’s pants.”

“She cheated?”

“Oh, yeah. A lot. I’m pretty sure she learned some new stretches from her personal trainer. Why else would he visit her work?”

“Thanks, …?”

“Oh. Nick McGrath.”

“Thank you.”

“I found them! Disrobe please,” the detectives heard Mr. Rodriguez call out as they turned. Wes and Travis blinked in shock at the male models in front of them.

“We’ve got to-”

“Go. Our case-”

“Yes. Let’s just… go,” Wes growled, leading Travis by the arm. They were silent for a while as they walked down the hall until Travis let out a murmur.

“So, so naked.”

“Shut up.”

 

“You’ve seen a lot of naked people in your lifetime, Travis. Get over it,” Wes said as he and Travis were walking to the coroner’s. Wes heard his phone vibrate and took it out of his pocket. He frowned at the number, his voice confused when he answered.

“…Detective Mitchell. Brandon?! I mean… Mr. Tucker, I... you want me to what?”

Travis grabbed the phone and set it to speaker. Wes snatched at the air, but Travis kept it out of his reach.

“I said I want you to come over and watch the game. I’m having some old college buddies over, help clear my head, you know?”

“Oh, of course!” Travis answered, a smirk on his face.

“Trav-”

“Brandon, this is Stick Figure’s partner, Travis. He’d love to come,” he continued, pushing Wes’ face away.

“Oh… yeah, that’s… yeah, great! You come, too, Travis. Later!”

Travis hung up, looking very proud of himself. Wes snatched the phone from his hands.

“I’m not going,” he growled.

“Oh, you’ll go, or I’ll tell the therapy group your nickname.”

“Don’t care.”

“Or that you don’t have friends.”

“Not true.”

“Or I could tell them about that one time I caught you and Alex-”

“Okay!” Wes cut him off, looking alarmed, “Fine. I’ll go. Just don’t mention Alex at therapy.”

He led the way into the coroner’s. Both of them glanced down at the body of Dana Tucker.

“Hey, Jonelle,” Wes greeted the coroner.

“Hey, Wes,” she said with a smile, completely ignoring Travis. Travis threw up his hands in frustration, but Wes went on with the conversation.

“What do you have for us?”

“The contusions on her neck obviously point to her being strangled. The odd thing is, there’s no sign of a struggle. No skin or hair beneath the nails. But there is a wound on the head, suggesting the killer-”

“Knew her," Travis interrupted. Jonelle glared at him before continuing.

“-struck her over the head, then strangled her to death,” she said. Travis grimaced and glanced over at Wes. The man was staring down at the body, looking troubled.

“Hey, Wes, I forgot my badge in your car. Will you go get it?”

Wes gave him a disbelieving look. “Why would I do that?”

“I won’t eat in your car for a week if you get it for me.”

Wes rolled his eyes. “Fine. But let’s try to be more responsible with our things next time.”

Jonelle watched Wes go out the door, then smirked at Travis.

“…What?”

“Your badge is clipped to your jeans.”

Travis looked down and shrugged. “My bad.”

“I think you were trying to protect him. Because this is his ex,” Jonelle said, looking ready to cackle.

“Nope. No, just a misunderstanding.”

“Mm. Well, you’re looking for a strange object. A hard edge got part of her head, but there’s also glass embedded in her scalp.”

Travis nodded. “Thanks, Jonelle.”

“Oh, and Travis?”

He stopped and turned around.

“You were protecting him.”

Travis walked out of the room.

 

Travis and Wes strolled up to a fairly large gym, bickering as they walked.

“All I’m saying is that you should check your pants before making me walk all the way out to the car,” Wes snapped.

“And all I’m saying is that it was an accident, baby. Take it easy.”

They walked up to the front desk and flashed their badges. They were shown to the break room, a small room where people were eating food and talking. They walked over to a muscular young man with a dark complexion.

“Ricky Stiepock?” Wes asked.

“Yeah. Who’s asking?”

“I’m Detective Marks and this is Detective Mitchell. We’d like to ask you a few questions about Dana Tucker.”

“Oh, yeah. That was terrible to hear,” he said without much enthusiasm. Wes and Travis exchanged looks.

“Didn’t care for her?”

“Let’s just get this straight- she was a good time, that’s all,” he said forcefully.

“So you broke up with her?” Travis asked. Ricky furrowed his brows with a disgruntled sigh.

“No. The bitch broke up with me. After stringing me along for months, telling me she was gonna leave her husband. ‘It’s not you, it’s me. My husband and I have rekindled our romance.’ A load of shit,” he spat.

“Why’s that?”

“She’s been cheating on him for years. They were just dragging a dead horse.”

“Thanks.”

They walked away together. “Think he’s guilty?”

“I don’t know what to think.”

Wes answered his cellphone. “Mhm. Okay. Thanks, Jonelle.”

Travis looked at him curiously while Wes put away his cellphone. “Jonelle says she missed a mark on the neck. An indentation a little less than an inch across.”

“She got any idea what caused it?”

Wes shook his head, walking to the car.

 

“You’re sure we’re supposed to bring things?” Wes asked, looking down at the case of beer and bag of chips in his hands.

“Yeah, man. Everyone brings stuff to parties,” Travis said. Wes stopped in his tracks.

“Party?”

Travis turned to look at him. “Yeah. It’s a game party. Will you come on?”

Wes reluctantly trudged after Travis. His partner rang the doorbell, and their large host answered the door.

“Hey! Guys, it’s Stick and his partner!”

There was a round of laughter that was sloppily covered as cheering. Brandon led them into the living room, taking the beer and chips from them.

“Make yourselves at home. I’ll get you guys some cold beers.”

 

Wes flinched as the others jumped up around him, hooting and hollering. Travis glanced down at him before pulling him up and to the side.

“Man, can you at least pretend to be having fun?” he asked.

“The man with the lopsided mustache spilled beer on me.”

Travis glanced over at the man. “It really is lopsided…”

“Yeah…” Wes said, staring at it. Travis shoved him lightly.

“You’ve gotta show this guy that you’re way better off than him. You can’t just sit there. Show him that you’re over Dana and you’re way better than him,” Travis said.

“…Travis, this man just lost his wife.”

Travis paused. “And you think he’s guilty. So think of this as an opportunity to find out more. Detective work.”

Wes considered this for a second before going back over to the sitting area.

“I’ll go get us some more beers,” Brandon said, going into the kitchen.

“I’ll help,” Wes offered, following him.

“Get me some more chips, baby!” Travis called after him. The other men stared at him.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just… well, Dana used to call Stick all sorts of pet names when they were dating. Baby, honey, sweetie,” one of the men explained, “He used to get real touchy about people calling him nicknames after that. He must really like you to put up with it.”

Travis was silent, frowning a bit.

 

Wes leaned against the counter, waiting for Brandon to get the beers out. He scratched his head.

“I’m really sorry about Dana, Brandon,” Wes said. Brandon set the beers on the counter, looking over at him.

“Thanks, Stick. I mean… we had our rough spots, but we were doing really good lately,” he said, his face pained.

“Well,” Wes corrected him.

“What?”

“Nothing. So… Brandon. What are you going to do with Spectrum?” Wes asked.

“Nothing. It’s not mine. She left it to that guy… Dave…?”

“David Rodriguez?” Wes probed. Brandon nodded, sipping at his beer.

“It sucks, you know? I could have sold it to that guy and gotten a good price on it, but Dana insisted that she wanted a businessman to run it. I think she did it out of spite.”

“You don’t think… Dana and David…?” Wes said, gesturing with his hands.

Brandon snorted. “You kidding? No, he paints with the other hand, if you know what I mean.”

Wes stared at him.

“He bats for a different team.”

“He’s gay?”

“Yeah,” Brandon said, “Come on, let’s not miss the game.”

Wes paused in the doorway, something dawning on him. He walked over and grabbed Travis, who scrambled to hold onto his bowl of popcorn.

“Travis, David Rodriguez received Spectrum upon Dana’s death.”

“And he was the last person to see her that night,” Travis added.

“We’ll see you later, Brandon,” Wes called out to him.

“Duty calls!” Travis cried as Wes dragged him out the door.

 

They showed up at David Rodriguez’s door with a search warrant right as he was coming back from grocery shopping. He walked over to the officers.

“What’s going on? What are you doing here?”

“We’ve got a warrant to search your apartment,” Travis said, handing him the papers. He glanced at them before giving an enormous sigh and unlocking the apartment for them. They walked in, glancing around at the cluttered apartment.

“You live alone?”

“No, I live with my boyfriend.”

“But you don’t wear your ring?” Travis asked, snatching the ring from a dish and holding it up to the light. Mr. Rodriguez gave an indignant snort.

“It’s not really your concern, but it leaves a weird indentation on my finger,” he said, rubbing his finger. Travis opened his mouth in surprise.

“Indentation. The ring! That’s what left that mark on her neck. Wes?”

Travis looked around, but his partner was bent over, his gloved hands going through the trash. He pulled out a paper bag and pulled out a bloody camera. The lens was smashed. Wes gasped and pointed at Nick McGrath’s figure disappearing out the window and onto the fire escape.

Travis immediately followed him on instinct. He shimmied under the window onto the landing of the fire escape before taking it two steps at a time. He was gaining on him. He hit the ground two seconds after him and sprinted after him. Before he could reach him, Wes was slamming him into the wall.

“Why are we chasing him?” Travis asked, catching his breath.

“Because,” Wes panted, pushing Nick harder into the wall, “He murdered Dana Tucker.”

“He did?”

 

“I did,” Nick said, sitting in the back of a cop car, “Dana treated David like crap. I saw the way she was treating him in that meeting that night. So when David left, I confronted her. She was threatening to take the property away from him, to revoke our rights to make art there. I panicked. And I hit her over the head with my camera. She passed out. There was no way I could let her wake up and tell. So I strangled her.”

“And you took the records so it would be harder for us to find out that David inherited the property,” Travis added. Nick nodded. David ran up to the window, taking his boyfriend’s hand.

“I’ll wait for you, baby.”

“How many people are we going to see waiting for their partner in prison?” Travis asked with a tsk as they walked away.

“How many people use pet names?” Wes shot back. Travis raised an eyebrow.

“Plenty. I’m sure your mama called you baby. Baby Wes, mama’s sweetheart,” Travis said. Wes shoved him and Travis laughed.

 

It was late in L.A. Wes was picking up a few necessary items, like toothpaste, deodorant, and snacks. He turned the corner, his eyes on the beverage section, and almost ran straight into a small, black woman. She jumped and gasped, dropping her things.

“I’m sorry,” Wes said, bending down to pick up her things. She squatted down to help him and eventually, she was holding all her items again.

“That’s all right. Are you… are you Wes Mitchell?” she asked. He raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I am. Have we met?”

“No, no. I’ve just seen pictures of you. I’m Travis Marks’ foster mother.”

They shook hands.

“He’s showed me pictures of you,” she said.

“He has?” he asked, mildly surprised.

“Well, pictures of you two.”

Wes paused, then blurted out what was on his mind. “Do you know about the couples’ therapy?”

She nodded. “Mhm.”

“Well… I’m supposed to find out why Travis uses pet names.”

She looked surprised. “Well, that’s easy. He only uses them on the people he cares about most.”

Wes raised his eyebrows again, watching her leave and giving her a faint wave.

 

“All right, let’s get started, shall we?” Dr. Ryan said. The couples sat down, falling silent. “Let’s start with Wes and Travis. Did you two find out anything about each other this week?”

“Well, Stick Figure here-”

“Stick Figure!” exclaimed one of the ladies.

“He looks like one,” murmured another.

“Stick Figure doesn’t like pet names because his ex-girlfriend used to use them all the time,” Travis said. Wes gaped at him.

“How do you know that?”

Travis shrugged. “It’s okay. I get it. Old wounds and all.”

“No,” Wes blurted, “No, it’s okay. It’s okay when you say them.”

Travis’ eyes went to Wes’ curiously before Dakota let out a squeal of admiration.

“That’s so cute. He’s letting go of the past and moving on!”

“Yeah. Good job, pumpkin,” Travis cooed at him.

“Travis.”

“Sweetie pie.”

“Travis!”

“My little pookie-”

“Travis!”

END

Chapter Text

It was busy in the station. Wes and Travis were working on paperwork. Wes clicked his pen and gathered up his paperwork.

“Whoa, whoa, we’re not done,” Travis said, “Where are you going?”

“Dentist appointment,” Wes said. He scooted the paperwork off to the side and grabbed his things.

“You went to a dentist appointment like… two weeks ago, man.”

Wes stopped. “Oh… well, I guess I was confused. Doctor’s appointment.”

Travis watched him leave, suspicious. He grabbed his things and chased after him. He hung back, trying not to alert Wes to his presence. Wes got in his car and drove off.
Travis got on his motorcycle, hurrying to follow him. Wes stopped at his hotel and came out with a large duffel bag. Wes looked around for a bit before getting back into his car and taking off. Travis stayed back far enough that Wes wouldn’t suspect him, and close enough that he could still see Wes. They stopped at a large building. The sign said ‘Linman Theatre’.

Travis walked in quietly to an empty lobby. He peeked through the small window in the doors to the seating for the audience. There were people on stage. A handsome young man with brown hair stood in the middle with another taller man and Wes, all three wearing tunics with puffy sleeves, tights, and masks. Travis opened the door and sneaked in, closing the door quietly behind him.

“-a dream to-night.”

“And so did I,” Wes said.

“Well, what was yours?” the smaller man asked. Travis stifled a giggle at Wes dressed up like that.

“That dreamers often lie,” Wes replied just as a body dropped to the stage. Wes jumped back and people were screaming. Travis ran up to the stage, jumping up onto it and checking the man’s pulse. He sighed.

“Travis?!”

He glanced up at his partner before returning his gaze to the dead body. He leaned over to read the note pinned to his jacket.

“‘A plague o' both your houses,’” Travis read, then looked Wes up and down, “Nice tights.”

 

Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.
– William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

 

Wes pushed Travis through the doors into the lobby. Cops were swarming the area.

“What are you doing here?” Wes hissed.

“I think the question is what are you doing here, baby?”

Wes sighed. “I’m… I tried out for Romeo and Juliet.”

“I didn’t know you could act.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know you had a high IQ. I guess we’re both full of surprises.”

Travis gave him a look like ‘Hey!’ but Wes waved the topic away.

“I’d rather you not mention this to our coworkers.”

“Because it’s nerdy?”

“It’s not nerdy,” Wes snapped, “I’d just rather the other cops didn’t find out.”

“Because it’s nerdy.”

“Come on,” Wes growled, leading him back into the theater, “Victim is a thirty year-old male, Ramsey Linman.”

“As in ‘Linman Theatre’?”

“Right, except it’s the owner’s son. Well, one of the co-owners’ son. Ramsey was the stage manager here.”

“Any idea why someone would want to kill him?” Travis asked, watching a woman photograph the body.

“He was a bully. Rude, bossy, a real slave driver. No one really liked him.”

“What about the note?” he asked, slipping some gloves on and handing some to Wes. Wes bent down and read the note over again.

“It’s what my character says when he dies,” Wes said.

“Whoa, spoiler alert,” Travis teased.

“Travis, it was published in 1597.”

“Really? How the hell do you know junk like that?”

“How do you not?” Wes rolled his eyes. “The note says ‘A plague o’ both your houses. In the play, Romeo and Juliet come from two feuding families.”

“I know. I read it in high school.”

Wes picked up his hand. “He fought back. There’s skin and blood under his nails.”

“Which not only means we have our killer’s DNA, but we also have a clue. The killer has to have wounds,” Travis said. Wes looked over at him.

“Only problem is, the set’s had quite a few accidents lately. Seems like everyone’s been injured. Someone took the power out the other day and I ran into a pole with my microphone on my hip. I’ve got a pretty big bruise.”

“So whoever did this has been sabotaging the set for a while.”

 

COMMON LAW

 

“I want you two to work undercover,” Cap said, breathing in and reaching his arms over his head. Wes and Travis stood in his office on the other side of his desk, Wes back in his normal clothes.

“Cap, that’s impossible. I can’t have Travis hanging around the set when we’re getting close to the opening.”

Cap exhaled and bent over as far as he could go. “Wes, I think it would be good for you two to work together on this case. You have a rare opportunity to work together not only for your job, but to do something personal together.”

“I ain’t wearing tights,” Travis said with a frown. Wes gestured at Travis.

“See? No, it’s impossible.”

Sutton inhaled and brought his arms back up again. “Mitchell, this is not negotiable. Get him a job backstage.”

“Cap, I understand- okay, I’m sorry, but what are you doing?”

Cap was in the process of leaning over again. “I’m using gentle movement to relax. Despite what you might think, a good walk or stretch can unwind you after a hard week.”

“That’s great, Cap. We’ll just go work on the case,” Travis said with a smile, walking out with Wes trailing behind him.

“Damnit. Why do you invade every part of my life?” Wes growled.

“Because you just love me that much,” Travis responded with a smile, sitting down at his desk.

“No, that’s definitely not it,” Wes said, checking his phone, “Kendall has some information from his electronics.”

“Let’s go.”

They walked into the tech area, stopping at Kendall’s computer. She turned around with a smile.

“Hey, guys. The theatre case, huh? Wes in tights…” She laughed. “Hilarious.”

Wes rolled his eyes, looking to the side.

“What about you, girl? Lipstick, eyeshadow, and-” Travis leaned in a little closer and sniffed, which caused Kendall to back up in her chair. “-some expensive perfume.” He grinned. “You’ve got a date.”

Kendall smirked. “Maybe.”

“Is he hot?” Travis asked.

“Not exactly.”

“Can we get to the case?” Wes piped up. Kendall didn’t seem to mind. She turned back to her computer and started to type.

“Ramsey Linman had some very interesting things on his computer. A bunch of business things, finances for the theatre and so on, word documents full of poetry, and some emails that may interest you.”

She brought up the first email, and the two men leaned over her to read it.

“‘Dearest Hannah, I love you more than I can say, but the time’s not right. Wait just a little longer. I’ll see you on Skype tonight. Love, Ramsey.’” Wes read. “Hannah… Hannah Parker?”

“Who’s that?”

“I told you about one of the owners- Linman- but there’s the other owner- Diane Parker- whose daughter’s name is Hannah,” Wes said.

“Why were Ramsey and Hannah keeping their love a secret, then?”

“The Parkers and the Linmans hate each other. The two owners used to be best friends until the theatre got into financial trouble. The Linmans carry most of the financial burden, so Roger Linman had the theatre changed to just his name. Now Ms. Parker’s angry. Who knows how long the theatre will last in the state it’s in,” Wes said.

“A feud between two families and a pair of star-crossed lovers, huh?” Travis said.

“And a plague on both their houses,” Wes added, exchanging a serious look with Travis.

 

“So, I walk in, and Wes is wearing tights and-”

Travis and Wes struggled, Wes trying to put a hand over his mouth. The other couples at therapy watched them in amusement.

“-Wes is performing in a play!” Travis managed to get out. Wes shoved him slightly, crossing his arms grumpily.

“I think that’s commendable, Wes,” Dr. Ryan said, “It shows you’re very versatile and multi-talented. Are you meeting new people, perhaps making new friends?”

“Um… yeah, I guess,” Wes replied.

“We should go see him perform!” Dakota piped up. The rest of the group nodded and hummed in approval. Wes shook his head.

“That is...”

“-A wonderful idea!” Travis interrupted him.

“No!”

“Wes, is there a reason you don't want the group to see you perform?” Dr. Ryan asked. Wes wiggled uncomfortably in his seat.

“I just know he's going to make fun of me for it.”

“So you think Travis wouldn't genuinely support you, that he would use it to mock you?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Travis?”

Travis pretended to think on this, then nodded his head. “Yeah, I would make fun of him.”

“Maybe Wes doesn't share these kinds of things with us because he's afraid of being ridiculed,” Mr, Dumont said.

“That...! Is stupid,” Wes said.

“We all want to be accepted for who we are,” Dr. Ryan said, “But some do hide themselves so there's no chance of rejection at all.”

“That is not me.”

“That's totally you,” Travis said, “That's totally him.”

Wes glared at him.

 

They walked down the hall of the basement, Wes still looking tense.

“That was a ridiculous session.”

“Actually it kind of sounded like you, baby. Where are we going?”

“Jonelle has something for us. I told you that five minutes ago, Travis.”

He opened the door, walking over to Jonelle.

“Hello, Wes.”

“Hey, Jonelle.”

“Jonelle,” Travis said with a nod of his head.

Jonelle glared. “Travis. As you probably already saw, the victim fought back hard. There's blood and skin under the nails. DNA doesn't match anyone in the database.”

“You've gotta have more than that,” Travis blurted out. Jonelle gave him another glare.

“Yes, I do. He was killed with a small blade, like a dagger. Died from multiple stab wounds to the abdomen. Fibers were found on his arms. It's something green.”

“Thanks, Jonelle,” Wes said, walking out. Travis walked out.

“That wasn't much.”

“Yeah, well, that's life,” Wes muttered.

“You still grumpy about therapy?” Travis asked. Wes bristled.

“I'm not grumpy.”

“If you're not grumpy, smile for me.”

Wes stared at him with a frown.

“See, you're grumpy.”

“Shut up,” Wes snapped, walking away.

 

Travis worked on painting a piece of the set. A young woman approached him.

“Hey, weren't you there when the body fell?”

“Yeah, I was looking to sign up for backstage help. Travis Marks.” He held out a hand, and she shook it.

“Sydney. You have a charming smile, Travis.”

Travis grinned. “Well, thank you. Your smile is pretty dazzling, too.”

She laughed. “Thanks.”

“So, what do you know about the owners?” he asked, going back to work. She grabbed a brush to help him.

“They're pretty mad. Evidently one of the owner's son and the other owner's daughter were dating in secret.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And you know Hannah is supposed to take over the theatre, according to her mother. Ramsey was going to take her to Belize.”

“Really...”

“Yep. Oops, I've gotta go, but if you ever want to hang out...” Sydney said, pulling out a piece of paper and writing her name and number on it. She gave him a flirty look and handed it to him. “Call me.”

“I'll do that,” he said with a grin, watching her go. Wes approached him and cleared his throat. Travis looked up at him innocently.

“Hm?”

“Got a lead?”

“Yeah, Tights. We should talk to the owners. Evidently Ramsey and Hannah were planning on going to Belize.”

“That would put Ms. Parker's plan for Hannah in jeopardy.”

 

They knocked on Diane Parker's door, waiting.

“Yes?” a young woman asked, dressed in a suit.

“Is this the residence of Diane Parker?”

“Yes. Who are you?”

“I'm Detective Marks and this is Detective Mitchell,” Travis said as Wes held up his badge, “We'd like to speak with Ms. Parker.”

“Please follow me.”

They followed the young woman into the impressive house. She led them into a sitting room and left. Travis played with a statuette of an angel.

“Big house for someone with financial troubles.”

Wes didn't have a chance to answer. The woman of the house entered, looking elegant in a long blue dress.

“Do forgive me for the formal attire, but I'm getting ready for a party. How can I help you, detectives?”

“Ma'am, we're here to ask some questions about Ramsey Linman. We understand your daughter was dating him.”

“What?”

The detectives exchanged a look. “You didn't know?”

“No, I had no idea. I thought he was dating another girl. If you'd like to speak to Hannah, she's upstairs in her room.”

They followed her upstairs and into Hannah's room.

“Hannah, these are two detectives working Ramsey's case. We'll talk later,” Ms. Parker said sternly, leaving the room. Hannah was sitting on her bed, her eyes red and puffy.

“We understand you were in a relationship with Ramsey,” Travis said softly. She nodded.

“We... we were going to run away together.”

“Did your mother know about it?” Wes asked.

“No! Of course not. I didn't want her to know. But Ramsey seemed so paranoid the last few days before... before he died.”

“How so?”

“He made sure no one followed us anywhere, accused me of telling people... he was really off, but he never explained why. Although, he was receiving threats.”

“Do you know where those are?” Travis asked. Hannah walked over to her dresser and pulled out a few notes with words painted on it in red paint.

“'Dump Hannah, or else!' 'Break up with her!' 'Leave the theater or I'll tell!'”

They exchanged a serious look.

 

They walked from the house.

“So who was threatening Ramsey, and why?”

“The red paint,” Wes said, “Do you think it was from the set?”

“Anyone could have access to that. Doesn't prove anything.”

“I'm going to check.”

“And I'm going on a date,” Travis said with a grin.

 

“So... Travis. Tell me more about yourself,” Sydney said, taking a bite of her salad.

“Well, I'm a... mechanic,” he said, catching himself before he said cop.

“Mm.”

“Yeah, car mechanic. I find the parts and fix the cars. Not the easiest job, but I like it. Let's see... I'm a foster kid.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. And proud of it. I was raised by some good people.”

She smiled. “That's great, Travis.”

“What about you?”

“Well, I work for the theater full-time,” she said.

“Really? I thought everyone there was a volunteer,” Travis replied, finishing his drink.

“Nope. I'm the Paint Charge.”

 

Wes stood over Kendall's shoulder. “Okay, so it looks like the paint does match the paint you gave me. That means whoever had access to the paint here is the person who threatened your victim.”

“That could be anyone.”

“Not necessarily,” Kendall said, typing away, “I've been in a few productions, too. Lighting crew. Anyway, the paint is only out when they need it for scenery. So unless your culprit wrote this note out in the open, they waited until it was in the paint room, which is usually restricted to one person. The Paint Charge.”

She pointed to her screen, which showed a picture of Sydney next to the words 'Paint Charge- Sydney Mason.'

“No,” Wes breathed, “Kendall, an address for Sydney Mason!”

“Sending it to your phone!” she shouted as he ran out the door.

 

Travis was walking along with Sydney, laughing at something she said.

“This is you?” he asked, pointing at the apartment building.

“Yeah. Why don't you come on up?” she said with a flirty look, going up the stairs. Travis took a breathe, then grinned and followed her up.

“Let me slip into something a little more comfortable,” she said, disappearing around the corner of her living room. Travis sat down on the couch. He reached out for a green vest, feeling the material.

“What's this green vest?” he called.

“Oh, it's the uniform at the theatre. I wear it when I'm not painting.”

Everything clicked in his head. He got up from the couch and whirled around to see Sydney holding a dagger. He held up his hands.

“Okay. Let's be calm about this. Put down the dagger and we can talk.”

“There's nothing to talk about,” Sydney said, “You're a cop. I saw you go to Ms. Parker's house. I killed Ramsey because he cheated on me with Hannah. I was going to lose him! Don't you get it?”

“I get it. I get it, Sydney. You just wanted him to love you. So you started the rumors that he and Hannah were dating, and you steered us toward Ms. Parker. But why the note?”
“I hate Ramsey and I hate Hannah.”

He noticed her arms, with the jacket taken off, were shredded from Ramsey defending himself.

"And we're going to find your DNA under his fingernails."

"Oh, you won't be finding anything."

“LAPD, drop the knife!” Wes shouted behind her. She faced him, holding out the knife threateningly. Travis grabbed her hand and made her drop the knife. Wes took his cuffs out and put them on.

“Never was there a tale of such woe, as Sydney and her Romeo,” Wes said.

 

Wes was on stage with Romeo and Benvolio, ready for the Queen Mab part. Travis watched eagerly from the crowd.

“O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you.
She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
On the fore-finger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep...”

His speech was excellent. When the play was over, Travis whooped and cheered. He saw Cap and ran over to him.

“Hey, Cap. What happened to Helen?”

“Oh, she... she couldn't make it,” Cap said, “But how about our boy, eh? Wasn't he good?”

“Not too bad, not bad at all.”

“Only 'not bad'?” he heard Wes say. He turned to see Wes in jeans and a t-shirt, his face red from taking off the makeup and his hair messy with sweat. He leaned over and gave Wes a hug.

“You were great, baby,” Travis murmured, “Even with the tights.”

Cap clapped him on the shoulder, and his therapy group came over, congratulating him and patting him on the back.

“Kendall?”

He saw Kendall in an attractive red dress, her arm around a beautiful blonde woman. Wes and Travis walked over to her.

“I guess you caught me. Anna, these are Detectives Marks and Mitchell. Wes, Travis... this is my girlfriend, Anna.”

Travis' eyes widened, but they both shook her hand, smiling.

“I've heard so much about you. The therapy guys, right?” Anna asked.

“Right,” Kendall replied.

“Hilarious.”

Wes and Travis exchanged a look. “Well, you two seem meant to be.”

“Wes, you were fantastic. Really.”

“Thanks. And thanks for coming,” Wes said. Kendall gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek before taking Anna's hand and walking away.

“I was sure she had a thing for you,” Travis said, walking along beside Wes.

“I wasn't. You know, people can be nice to each other without wanting in their pants,” Wes said.

“No... pretty sure that ain't true.”

“Is so.”

“Is not, Peter Pan.”

END