[One month later] [Nine-Nine precinct]
The bullpen buzzed with its usual chaos. Phones rang, keyboards clacked, and Hitchcock argued with Scully about something deeply unimportant. Life had settled back into its familiar rhythm, neat and predictable on the surface. Underneath, a quiet understanding lingered among the few who had stood in the dark with rifles and watched a building blow up and burn to the ground.
Officially, the case had been wrapped up.
The FBI had stepped in within hours of the explosion. They sealed everything off and took control before sunrise had fully settled over the city. In the weeks that followed, they combed through what little remained, tracing financial records and encrypted files that survived in fragments across offshore servers.
What they found was enough to unsettle anyone who knew how to read between the lines.
There were illegal money traces, names, and corrupt officials buried inside both the New York City Police Department and the Bureau itself. Rot, carefully hidden behind badges and clean records.
What they did not find was Henry Colt.
At least, that was what the paperwork claimed.
The public statement came in the morning. A federal spokesperson standing behind a podium confirmed that the individual responsible for the terrorist incident had been identified and taken into custody. Charges were pending. The investigation was ongoing, and the public was safe.
It sounded like something people could accept and move on from without asking too many questions.
Most people did exactly that.
...
[Inside Holt's office]
Captain Holt stood in his office that same afternoon, hands clasped neatly behind his back as he looked at his detectives inside his office. There was something close to satisfaction in his posture, subtle enough that only someone who knew him well would notice.
"Deputy Commissioner Wuntch has finalized the budget revisions," he said. His voice carried its usual precision, though a quiet note of victory lingered beneath it. "Effective immediately, the Nine-Nine will receive an increase in operational funding."
Jake blinked. "Wait, actual money? Not like emotional support money or imaginary spreadsheet money?"
Holt met his gaze without flinching. "Real currency, Detective Peralta. The kind that allows us to purchase functioning equipment and maintain basic infrastructure without begging."
Terry let out a long breath, sounding like a man finally released from a personal burden. "Does that mean we can fix the heating system for real this time? Terry hates cold."
"Yes," Holt replied, with faint emphasis. "It does."
Boyle's face lit up instantly. "We could also upgrade the break room appliances. I've been saying for years that our microwave distribution is wildly inefficient for a precinct of this size."
Rosa leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, unimpressed as ever. "Or we could just enjoy not freezing to death in winter."
Amy stood beside Ray, flipping through a printed copy of the revised budget with focused intensity. Her eyes moved quickly across numbers, reallocations, and approvals. "This isn't just a minor increase," she said, glancing up with a mix of surprise and satisfaction. "This is a full structural adjustment. We can upgrade systems, training resources, or even expand case support."
Holt gave a single, satisfied nod. "Deputy Commissioner Wuntch is a woman who understands the value of repayment." For once, he didn't call her evil spawn of darkness.
Jake tilted his head. "Wow. So near-death experiences really do bring people together. That's kind of beautiful in a deeply unsettling way."
No one mentioned why Wuntch felt the need to repay them. And they didn't bring up the lodge, the snipers, or the fire that erased everything before the federal teams could arrive.
Some things are better left unsaid.
Ray watched the conversation unfold.
Amy glanced at him for a brief moment. Something unspoken passed between them before she returned her attention to the paperwork in her hands.
"Alright, that's it for today. You may return to your duties," Holt said as he sat down and leaned back in his chair.
...
[Bullpen]
Jake clapped once, breaking the rhythm of the room. "All right, new budget means new possibilities. I'm thinking better chairs, faster computers, and maybe, just maybe, a snack fund that isn't controlled by Hitchcock."
"Over my dead body," Hitchcock called out immediately from his desk, not even looking up.
Everyone returned to their desk and resumed their work.
Ray sat at his desk, scanning through a report with one hand while absently rotating a pen between his fingers.
His phone buzzed against the desk.
He glanced down once, then picked it up when he saw the name. He stood and walked outside.
"Didn't expect you to call," he said.
Emma's voice came through. "Wow, no hello, no 'I missed you,' nothing. You really know how to make a girl feel special."
Ray leaned one shoulder against the wall, a faint smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "You disappeared for months. I assumed you got bored and replaced me with someone who owns a vineyard."
She laughed softly on the other end, the sound carrying a kind of ease that made it clear the distance hadn't erased anything between them. "Tempting, but no. I've been stuck on set, remember? Twelve-hour days, terrible coffee, and people telling me how to feel on command. It's not as glamorous as it sounds."
Ray asked, "You're back in New York then."
"For a couple of days," she said, her tone shifting just slightly, more grounded now. "I thought… maybe we could catch up... Properly this time."
Ray didn't answer right away. He already knew where this was going.
Emma filled the silence with a soft exhale. "Dinner, maybe? Tonight, if you're free. We can talk about… everything we didn't get to last time after that kiss."
He let the idea sit for a second, then nodded to himself even though she couldn't see it. "I'm free."
There was a small pause on her end, like she had expected him to hesitate longer. "That was easier than I thought it would be."
"Don't sound so surprised," he said, pushing off the wall and starting to walk again. "What did you have in mind?"
"I was thinking something simple," she replied. "Somewhere quiet."
Ray let out a quiet breath, then shook his head slightly as he turned the corner down the hallway. "Or we skip all that and cook instead."
There was a beat of silence.
Then a soft, amused hum. "Cook," she repeated, like she was testing the word. "You?"
He smirked, slowing near the stairwell door. "You sound offended."
"I'm just trying to picture it," she said, clearly enjoying herself now. "You, in a kitchen... It's kinda hard to imagine."
"You'd be surprised," Ray said with a smirk.
Emma giggled a little. "Alright, I'm curious now. This I have to see."
"Seven?" he asked.
"Seven works," she said. "My place or yours?"
Ray considered for half a second. "Mine. That way, it'd be easier to explain my complicated relationship status."
"Bold," she replied lightly. "I like it."
He could hear the smile in her voice.
"Text me the address," she added. "Can't wait to hear your explanation."
"Well, you'd be utterly shocked, that I promise."
There was a moment of silence before Emma spoke.
"Ray."
He replied, "Yeah."
"I meant what I said," she told him softly. "About talking. Not avoiding things this time."
His expression didn't change. "Yeah," he said after a moment. "I know."
The line stayed quiet for a second longer before she spoke again, lighter now, like she had already decided not to push further over the phone. "See you tonight."
"See you."
The call ended.
Ray lowered the phone slowly, staring at the blank screen for a second before slipping it back into his pocket. He then walked back inside.
...
[Night] [Ray's house]
Ray stood in front of the couch, arms crossed, having just finished explaining the situation with Emma Stone.
Rosa, Amy, and Gina sat around the room. Rosa had her boots kicked up on the ottoman. Amy sat on the single couch. Gina lounged dramatically on the long couch, phone in hand, already half-distracted by whatever group chat she was ignoring.
"So yeah," Ray finished, rubbing the back of his neck. "I invited Emma over for dinner tonight. We still have feelings for each other. If she says yes to the whole... arrangement, she might join this unusual group."
The girls didn't look to have any problem with that since they were already deep into this poly style relationship and it was great. They were all satisfied with how well everything was going.
Rosa tilted her head, a slow smirk spreading across her face. She waited just long enough for the silence to get awkward before dropping her news.
"I invited Emma Watson tonight for dinner too," she said casually. "We talked over the month. She finally said yes."
Ray's face went completely blank for a second. Then his eyes widened.
"You're telling me now?" he asked, voice pitching up in genuine disbelief.
Rosa grinned, sharp and unapologetic. "Told you it'd be a surprise."
Gina let out a loud, delighted cackle, nearly dropping her phone. She clapped her hands once. "Two new girls in the harem. This is getting good. The polycule just leveled up."
Amy blinked, looking slightly concerned. But it has nothing to do with two more girls in the harem. "Wait. Won't their names get confusing? Both of them are Emma."
Ray exhaled heavily and dropped down onto the couch between Amy and Rosa. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and dragged a hand down his face.
"Oh god," he muttered. "This is going to be very awkward."
Gina leaned over the arm of the couch, grinning like a shark. "Awkward is an understatement, Mr. White. You are about to host two famous Emmas in the same room while trying to explain that you are in a committed relationship with three women already, and oh, by the way, would you like to make it five? Pass the popcorn. I need to see this trainwreck in 4K."