Chapter 23: The Internal Affairs Scare - Part 3
POV: Kole Martinez
Saturday evening at Shaw's Bar carried the weight of celebration mixed with underlying tension, as the Nine-Nine squad gathered for what Jake had declared an "unofficial victory party" despite the IAB investigation remaining technically open. The familiar dive bar hummed with protective energy—cops closing ranks around one of their own, chosen family demonstrating loyalty that transcended bureaucratic scrutiny.
They came. All of them. Even knowing IAB might be watching.
Kole sat at the center of the pushed-together tables, overwhelmed by the solidarity display while wrestling with guilt about accepting support based on fundamental deceptions. The squad had rallied around Detective Martinez without knowing who Kole really was or understanding the secrets that made their loyalty both precious and dangerous.
Family doesn't require full truth. But how much deception can family survive?
Jake occupied his usual position as unofficial squad spokesman, alcohol loosening his tongue while intensifying his protective instincts.
"You know what IAB can do with their statistical analysis?" Jake declared with the passionate conviction of someone three beers past diplomatic, waving his bottle for emphasis. "They can shove it up their bureaucratic asses."
Jake defending me while drunk. This should be touching, not terrifying.
"Martinez is one of us," Jake continued, throwing his arm around Kole's shoulders with slightly unsteady affection. "Even if you're definitely hiding something weird, you're still solid. Good detective, good partner, good guy."
Even if you're definitely hiding something weird.
Jake's drunk honesty cuts deeper than his sober suspicion.
Amy nodded with analytical precision despite her own alcohol consumption.
"Your methods are unconventional, but your results speak for themselves," she said, consulting notes she'd apparently prepared for this conversation. "Character and competence matter more than administrative compliance."
Character and competence. If only she knew how little character I actually possess.
Rosa's contribution was characteristically direct and surprisingly fierce.
"Anyone comes after you again, we'll handle it," she said simply, the threat carrying weight that made several nearby patrons shift uncomfortably. "Squad protects squad."
Squad protects squad. Even when squad doesn't know what it's protecting.
Charles's emotional investment reached peak intensity, tears flowing freely as he processed the evening's significance.
"This is what family means!" he declared to the assembled group. "Standing together against external threats, supporting each other through adversity, choosing loyalty over convenience!"
Charles crying about family loyalty while I lie to his face about who I am.
Terry managed the group dynamics with characteristic warmth, referring to himself in third person while ensuring everyone felt included in the protective gesture.
"Terry's proud of this squad," he announced, raising his beer in formal toast. "Terry's proud that when one of Terry's people needed support, everyone showed up without question."
Everyone showed up without question. That's what family does.
That's what I'm betraying with every lie I tell.
Even Scully and Hitchcock had appeared, contributing their own form of support through presence and shared bar snacks.
"We don't really understand what happened," Scully admitted around a mouthful of peanuts, "but if IAB's bothering you, they're bothering us."
Scully and Hitchcock: the most accepting members of the squad because they don't care enough about details to ask complicated questions.
The evening progressed with characteristic Nine-Nine chaos—competitive drinking games, elaborate storytelling about past cases, affectionate roasting of each other's professional quirks. But underneath the celebration, Kole detected undercurrents of genuine concern about IAB attention and what it might mean for squad cohesion.
They're worried about me. Actually worried, not just professionally protective.
Which makes the deception exponentially worse.
POV: Captain Holt
Monday morning brought Kole to Captain Holt's office for what both men understood would be a crucial conversation about IAB aftermath and future expectations. Holt closed the door with deliberate ceremony, creating privacy for discussion that required complete honesty—or at least as much honesty as circumstances permitted.
Detective Martinez carries secrets. The question is whether those secrets threaten squad integrity or simply reflect personal complexity.
Holt settled behind his desk, studying Kole with analytical attention that had been honed through decades of evaluating personnel under pressure. The IAB investigation had ended without formal conclusions, but it had raised questions that demanded administrative attention.
Statistical anomalies don't disappear simply because investigators lack sufficient evidence to pursue formal charges.
"Detective Martinez," Holt began, his voice carrying the measured precision of someone choosing words carefully, "the Internal Affairs investigation has concluded without adverse findings. However, I suspect we both understand that administrative closure doesn't necessarily resolve underlying concerns."
Underlying concerns. Holt's giving me an opening to provide explanations I can't offer.
Kole's posture remained professionally attentive, but Holt's experience reading people caught micro-signs of tension that suggested complex emotional responses to the investigation's aftermath.
Guilt. Relief. Ongoing anxiety about future scrutiny.
The responses of someone who survived investigation despite having legitimate reasons for concern.
"I don't know what you're hiding, Detective Martinez," Holt continued, allowing his carefully neutral expression to crack slightly. "I don't know if you're running from something or toward something. I don't know whether your exceptional capabilities result from undisclosed training, natural talent, or circumstances you can't discuss."
Running from something or toward something. Both, probably.
"But I know character," Holt said with quiet intensity. "I've spent my career evaluating people under pressure, identifying those who can be trusted with authority and responsibility. Whatever your secrets, you're a good cop and a good man. That matters more than mysteries."
Permission and warning simultaneously. I won't dig, but I expect continued excellence and integrity.
Kole's throat tightened with emotion he couldn't fully process—unconditional positive regard from a father figure he'd been lying to since the day they met.
He's accepting me despite knowing I'm hiding something significant.
He's choosing to trust character over credentials, behavior over background.
Which makes the deception feel like betrayal rather than necessity.
"Thank you, Captain," Kole managed, the words carrying weight of gratitude he couldn't fully express.
"Don't thank me yet," Holt replied with trace of humor. "My expectations for your continued performance have increased proportionally with my investment in your success. The squad believes in you, Detective Martinez. Don't disappoint that belief."
Don't disappoint that belief.
Instructions that feel like impossible burden when belief is based on fundamental misunderstanding of who I really am.
POV: Detective Carlson
Late Monday evening, Detective Carlson sat in his IAB office reviewing the Martinez investigation files with growing frustration about administrative pressure to close cases without resolution. The Martinez case had ended inconclusively—insufficient evidence to pursue formal charges, but too many anomalies to classify as routine background verification.
Statistical impossibilities don't vanish simply because investigators lack resources to pursue comprehensive investigation.
While cross-referencing Martinez's file with other recent transfers and promotions, Carlson noticed pattern that transformed frustration into genuine alarm. Martinez wasn't an isolated anomaly—he was part of systematic trend affecting multiple precincts across the city.
Detective Sarah Chen, Brooklyn Heights: closure rate exceeding department averages, combat skills inconsistent with training, observational capabilities described as "exceptional" by colleagues.
Detective Michael Torres, Queens North: similar statistical profile, gaps in employment history, commendations for unspecified "innovative techniques."
Detective Lisa Wang, Bronx South: identical pattern—sudden improvement in performance metrics, mysterious background elements, capabilities that exceed documented training.
Five detectives. Five precincts. Five individuals demonstrating impossible performance improvements within the same six-month period.
Carlson's experience investigating police corruption had taught him to recognize systematic problems disguised as isolated incidents. The Martinez pattern wasn't unique—it was replicating across the NYPD with alarming consistency.
Enhancement program. Classified training initiative. Technology assistance.
Something is systematically improving detective capabilities beyond normal human parameters.
And someone's been very careful to hide the source.
Carlson opened new case file, entering preliminary data while his mind raced through implications of department-wide capability enhancement without official oversight or documentation.
"Enhanced Personnel Investigation: Systematic Analysis of Statistical Anomalies in Detective Performance Metrics."
Project scope: NYPD-wide review of personnel with impossible closure rates, unexplained skills, documented capability improvements.
Working hypothesis: Coordinated enhancement program operating without administrative oversight or legal authorization.
The investigation had expanded beyond Detective Martinez into something potentially threatening the integrity of the entire department. Carlson's discovery suggested conspiracy involving multiple precincts, systematic record falsification, and enhancement methods that violated every protocol designed to ensure police accountability.
Martinez was just the beginning.
The real investigation starts now.
POV: Kole Martinez
December continued with precarious stability, IAB scrutiny officially ended but unofficial questions lingering like storm clouds gathering on distant horizons. Kole walked through Brooklyn evening air carrying relief and dread in equal measure, understanding that surviving one investigation had only delayed inevitable exposure.
Carlson's still digging. Not into me specifically, but into patterns that will eventually lead back to me.
And now he's looking for others like me.
Others who might not exist, but whose fictional enhancement will eventually point toward the real thing.
His phone buzzed with text from Jessica: "Conference approved for January! Three whole days in NYC. Miss you."
Jessica returning. Relationship deepening. Life moving forward despite foundations built on lies.
January approaches with promises and threats in equal measure.
Walking past Shaw's Bar where neon light spilled onto sidewalk, Kole could see through windows where other Nine-Nine members continued their evening celebration. Family bonding over shared loyalty, protective instincts strengthened by external pressure.
They protected me without understanding what they were protecting.
Family doesn't require full truth, just commitment to shared values.
But how long can commitment survive systematic deception?
How long before Detective Carlson's expanded investigation uncovers secrets that will destroy everything I've built?
Christmas lights began appearing in storefront windows, promising holiday celebration amid mounting complications. The Nine-Nine family would gather again, Jessica would visit, and life would continue its precarious balance between genuine connection and necessary lies.
And I still have no idea how to protect the people I love from the revelation that will destroy their trust forever.
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