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It's not a crime, to love me too

Chapter Text

He ran his finger across his creation, savouring the touch of every engraving, every intricate detail on the gold. The blood red rubies wove in patterns, curving through jewels, the colours alluring. 

The buzz of machinery echoes in the room, but he remains focused, his whole world zoomed in on the work in front of him. A silent darkness encompasses the rest of the room; a singular flickering light circles around him. 

Another engraving, another jewel, another coat of paint. His eyes squint with concentration, and he bites his lip, dribbles of blood dripping down his chin. 

With one last swipe of polish, he’s done. The curves of his lips, the glimmer of excitement in his eyes all shine back at him, clearer than an oasis of water. 

Satisfied, he leans back, sighing and laughing to no one in particular. God he’s good at his job. 

─────

“Excuse me, Inspector Diaz! You have no jurisdiction here!” The museum curator is short and stout, his measly steps no match for the determined, fast paced strides of Inspector Rosa Diaz. 

Five years. Over half of her working life has been spent chasing him, and today, she was close. Closer than she’s been in a while. The crowded museum naturally parted for her,  be it from fear or just pure instinct, one glance and a tourist knows to keep their distance. 

That however, does not apply to the museum curator, who struggles and pushes his way through the crowd behind her. 

“Inspector Diaz! Please!” He calls out, he reaches a hand to pull her back by her elbow but before he can she turns around. Only then does their extreme height difference become apparent. The museum curator gulps. 

“Do not touch me.”

 The curator flinches, shrinking into himself. 

“My intelligence tells me that one of the world’s most prolific and wanted art thieves is here today. He’s going to steal your museum's most precious artifact and yet you refuse to let me inspect it.” She snaps. She doesn't dignify him with a chance to respond, immediately spinning around, her curly raven hair slapping him in the face. 

Despite that, the curator continues to follow her down the corridor, rambling about high security and 24/7 surveillance, all of which falls on deaf ears. 

“Sorry Mam, this entrance is for authorized personnel only.” The guard pipes up as Rosa approaches. 

“I am authorized.” She snaps, and before he can even blink she’s punched him in the gut, and with a swift motion rammed her elbow into his neck. 

The inspector pushes past the doors, stepping into the room; the guard whimpering on the floor behind her and the curator staring after her helplessly. 

The room isn't particularly big, but it’s ceiling spans up high. The walls are covered with murals, old paintings that depict centuries of history, culture and tradition. 

There are more security guards than tourists in the room, a few of which snap their heads towards her abrupt entrance, but most of their gazes remain transfixed on the shining, alluring artifact in the centre. 

Encased in a layer of glass, there it was, Cleopatra’s bejeweled egg of the serpent. A gold snake is twisted on the front, its single visible eye made out of a small ruby. The rest of the egg is grand and elegant, intricate engravings decorate its surface, priceless Jewels dot across it, a stark contrast to the shiny gold. 

It was easily worth millions of dollars. If it was real. 

“It’s fake.” Rosa sighs. She lowers her heat sensor, tucking it into her pants. “Fuck!” 

“Excuse me, what?” 

“Fuck!” Rosa snaps again, and her eyes meet the curator’s, red hot anger in her irises. Before he could open his mouth, Rosa was by his side, a strong and steady grip on his collar, “You. Are. Incompetent.” 

The guards have their guns pointed at her now so she releases the curator, the poor man crumbling into a pile on the floor beneath her feet. 

As she makes her way closer to the egg, Rosa whispers into her walkie talkie, “Secure the area, we were too late but he might still be here. Search the building now, no one in or out.” 

Without any hesitation she snatches a water bottle from an unsuspecting tourist, tucking under the red barricade so she was right next to the egg. 

“Mam, please step away from the egg.” Someone warns her. 

“It’s fake. The real egg should have reflected some of the heat in this room but this one is as cold as the air around it. It’s a replica.” She replies, fiddling with the padlock on the glass chamber. 

“That’s impossible!” The curator shouts. 

Rosa just snorts, a soft mumble of idiota escaping her lips. 

With one last frustrated pull at the lock she gives up, she takes out her gun and shots straight through it. A few guards yelp in surprise and the tourists even further away from her. 

The door on the glass chamber swings open with ease and Rosa lifts up the water bottle, “Don’t believe me? Watch.” 

With a half triumphant smirk she pours the water onto the egg and the room is sealed in a crushing silence as the people watch on in horror. The shiny layer of gold flows away easily with the water, cheap plastic jewels clinking onto the floor. As the last of the water touches the floor, Rosa catches sight of the message scribbled onto it, an almost unintelligible scrawl made with sharpie.

“Gotcha…” The curator reads from behind her, dejectedly falling onto the floor. 

Just then, Rosa’s walkie talkie crackles to life, the sound filling the near silent room. 

“We searched the building, no sign of him anywhere. Sorry Diaz, I think he’s gone.”

The room works its way back into silence until a sudden burst of rage from Rosa breaks it. She shouts, flinging the fake egg into the wall opposite her. 

She’s breathing deeply and suddenly when she looks up the world freezes around her. She’s staring straight into his eyes, his face was right there, plain as day. 

The same face she’s been staring at the past five years. 

The same face that haunts her nightmares and plagues her at night. 

The same face that's wanted in over 18 countries around the globe. 

Jake fucking Peralta. 

Chapter Text

It took her long enough to see me .

Jake smiles when Inspector Diaz makes eye contact with him, her eyes widening almost comically in surprise. He offers her a small wave and a smile before spinning on his heels and dashing to the exit. 

He can hear her shout behind him but his legs are already carrying him far away from the room. The building was a lot less crowded now - everyone had been herded downstairs so they could be Id'd. 

After a few quick turns he spots a grand circular staircase, without hesitation he dashes towards it, running up the stairs three at a time. His escape route was well planned, every minute of every second planned to perfection. 

Of course Diaz had arrived way earlier than he first thought but really just a small kink in his well oiled machine.

He strips his red jacket, throwing it down the staircase, well practised maneuvers have him changed in seconds, and he’s decked out in full tourist garb now, the egg tucked safely into a bag snug against his chest.  

He grins in confidence to himself, the yelling from security guards and a very angry inspector already fading into the background. After a few more twists and turns he spots a large window, surrounded by scaffolding from when it broke about a month ago, his way out of here.

Jump out the window. Slip into a row of shophouses. Buy a change of clothes and head to the harbour where his escape boat was already awaiting him. Nice and easy. 

Jake smirks in confidence, the plan couldn't have gone better and now he was just two eggs away from the deal of his lifetime. 

I mean, I really outdid myself with this plan. The perfect replica, the perfect escape route. They don’t call me the greatest art thief in the world for no-

A strong tackle punches the air out of him, interrupting his internal monologue of brags. 

“Oof…” He groans, and when he opens his eyes the sight makes him sigh in exasperation, “No! Why now?” 

The bishop. The second best art thief in the world - in Peralta’s head anyway. 

“Miss me?” She laughs, her features are twisted into a carefree smile, and as she leans down, her hair tickles Jake's cheeks. Her body is pressed against his chest, legs pinning him and hands pushed against the bag on his chest. 

Jake rolls his eyes, his deadpan expression only fueling her excitement, “We both know I didn't.” 

He can see the rush of adrenaline flowing behind her irises, the thrill providing her a high no drug could ever come close to. They were both risk takers but Amy Santiago? She was much more than a risk taker, she was a risk seeker. 

Amy Santiago, the bishop, was too smart for her own good. Every sticky situation she has ever been in she has been prepared for, she has layers of plans for every thing that could happen and could not happen. Sometimes she fails on purpose, just to see if she can win. (She can.) 

A controlling household and a restrictive childhood can do that to a person. Now she seeks the thrill, the rush of adrenaline with every move she makes. 

How does he know? Well it's important to keep tabs on your rivals, so of course he’d done some digging. No other reason. 

Amy is still laughing atop him, and Jake ignores the way his heart skips a beat at the sight. Ignores how the sunlight frames her features, ignores how he can feel her breath against his lips, ignores how much he craves the sweet lavender of her shampoo. 

“I believe you have something I want.” She murmurs, hands already working on the zipper of his bag. 

Jake’s glares at her, and with a smart twist of his hips he manages to push her off him. He’s a second too late however, because as he slips away her hands curl around the egg. When he looks up, she’s already running towards the broken window. 

“Oh no, you don’t.” He whispers before quickly chasing after her.  

Amy’s fast, and by the time Jake reaches the scaffolding she’s already climbing up, the egg still safely tucked against her chest. He skips the steps between the levels, instead choosing to pull himself up through bars and beams. 

The afternoon sunlight is glaring through the window, and he squints against its harsh brightness. He can barely make out her silhouette and the poles form shadows against his form. Despite that he pushes on, his muscles aching and straining against his shirt. 

Be it the fact that Amy only has one working arm or Jake is an amazing climber, he's almost catched up to her before she can reach the top. At the sight of his rapidly approaching form, Amy groans. Stopping her descent she balances herself on a platform, slipping the egg into a safe corner of the scaffolding. 

After that she peers over the edge, grinning as she sees Jake hesitating on the bar before her. 

“Come on Peralta,” She teases, “Let's fight.” 

Fuck.

Jake grits his teeth, eyes scanning the room in search of a solution. Since Amy’s waiting for him she could easily push him off before he can even begin to climb onto the platform, but if he stayed here waiting he would almost surely lose the egg and have to deal with Diaz. 

So no good options. Wonderful. 

Wait. 

Diaz. 

As if on cue the footsteps and shouts of law enforcement finally reach the pair’s ears, and he sees Amy’s eyes widen in shock. 

“You let them see you?” She hisses, annoyance more than evident in her voice, “Are you an idiot?” 

“They know what I look like anyway, and I had a plan.” He retorts, “Emphasis on had.” 

“Shit. Well they don't know what I look like!” She answers, there’s almost nowhere to hide in time, so she gives up her initial plan, grabbing the egg and starting her ascent again.

One of her biggest advantages is that no one has been able to identify her yet, but now she’s maskless, her face in plain sight for all to see. 

Jake grins triumphantly, he notices Diaz and the security guards enter the room, and offers them another small wave, precariously dangling off the scaffolding. 

“Hey guys! There’s the Bishop!” He points, and starts his climb up again, “Now I know she’s not as good as me but still pretty famous! And she has the egg!” 

Amy is almost at the window now, Jake having caught up to her. 

“What are you doing!” She whispers, glaring daggers at him, “You’re going to get us both caught.” 

“Oh relax!” He answers, “They can’t catch up to us and they can’t shoot us! And this way I get the egg.” 

Jake grabs Amy's elbow, and he’s just about to pull her close to snatch the egg when Amy suddenly grins. She pushes herself off the scaffolding, drops the eggs from her hands and clasping it with her legs. She uses her other hand to clasp onto jake, using her momentum to grab the bar above him. 

Jake yelps in surprise, his grip loosening as she exerts more force onto him. He’s panting from the exertion, heart hammering from both the exercise and surprise. 

“Wha...what the fuck was that?” He pants, staring up at her. Below them, Diaz and the guards have already begun their precarious climb up. 

Amy just smiles, and uses her legs to toss the egg back into her arm. Now just hanging on using one hand, she squares her feet against his shoulders, Jake suddenly realises what she’s about to do and before he can try to convince her otherwise she kicks him. Hard. 

“Bye bye Peralta!” She waves. 

He lands with a crash on the ground below, the guards who were already halfway up the scaffolding stare down at him in shock. Diaz immediately jumps down, barking out orders, “The rest of you follow the bishop, get the egg back!” 

The guards nod and immediately start chasing after Amy, Diaz on the other hand, her attention is solely fixed on Jake. 

The man in question is groaning in pain, hands gently massaging his ribs. Dust surrounds the air around him and before long he’s coughing, his chest constricts with each breath, a dull pain gradually skyrocketing into a sharp and piercing sensation in his ribs. 

“Get up Peralta. You’re under arrest.” Diaz shouts, she’s trying not to smile but her lips were definitely turned into a grin. 

“Wai…wait.” Peralta moans, his squeezes his eyes shut, head flat on the ground.

Diaz doesn’t lower her guard but she does go closer, her body still on edge and suspicious. 

“Get up Peralta.” She spits again but this time there’s no response. 

Jake’s head lolls to the side, his body limp and unresponsive. Diaz lowers her gun, laughing as she approaches him, “This is easy.” 

Big mistake. 

The moment she's close enough he leaps up, one hand wrapping around the gun in her hands and the other punching her square in the nose. He tries to pull the gun away from her but Diaz recovers quickly, her grip ironclad on the weapon. 

Jake just smirks, lifting up his arm to punch her again but this time she dodges, and his grip on her gun is gone. 

“Hands up motherfucker.” She snarls, lifting up her gun. 

“Oh come on Diaz, we both know you’re not gonna shoot.” He laughs, “I’m much too valuable.” 

The moment he's finished, Rosa fires a shot straight at his knee and Jake barely dodges it, exclaiming in surprise. 

He still laughs though, and shrugs his shoulders. “Welp, misjudged that one.” 

Before she can shoot again he rushes forward, snapping her shooting arm upwards as he advances. He grabs her shoulders, and attempts to throw her but a sharp twist from Rosa has her slipping out of it. 

He rolls his eyes, swatting away her gun with a flick of his wrist. As he does that Rosa takes the opportunity to throw a punch that hits me square in the nose, causing him to double back in pain. 

“Ow!” He grumbles, “You are way too good at that.” 

Diaz doesn't bother responding, immediately stepping forward to hit him again. 

Jake dodges this time, and continues dodging all her subsequent attempts. He's grinning casually the whoIe time, especially when Diaz groans in frustration. 

“Come on Inspector, not up for conversation?” He teases as he narrowly dodges another punch. 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

Her response only spurs him on. 

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” He swerves to avoid a kick, taking a step back. 

“Barista mess up your coffee?” Another step back, another dodge. 

“Bested by your worst enemy?” Diaz cocks her head in confusion and Jake smiles. 

Reaching behind him he pulls out a pipe from the pile behind him, swinging it with just enough force to knock out the inspector. 

Diaz is out cold in seconds, Perata grinning in satisfaction. He wipes his hands, before flipping Diaz over so her body wasn't curled uncomfortably on the floor. 

“That was easier than I thought.” He sighs, and stares up at the window, “Alright, time to get the egg.” 

 

─────

 

Idiot. God I hate him so much. 

Amy doesn't look back after pushing Peralta down. Not only did he risk her identity being discovered, he underestimated her, big time. 

And now she has to deal with the consequences of his half assed plan. 

She sighs as she reaches the top, glancing down to see about five security guards steadily climbing after her, and an unconscious Peralta at the bottom.

 Her heart pangs a little as she realises how high a fall she caused him but she reminds herself of every annoying thing he's done to her and the feeling is gone. 

Shaking her head to clear the distracting thoughts, Amy turns around and observes the area around her. 

Of course she had memorized every shophouse location, the drainage system, and the roadwork of this area weeks ago, but with people chasing after her now and possibly in the streets, she has to resort to Plan B. 

Staring down at the clear path Peralta was going to take - a jump off the roof onto a makeshift souvenir stand, she clips off a weight from her belt and an inflatable. With one click the inflatable is blown up and she throws them both down. It lands on an unlucky souvenir stand below, destroying it. 

Next, she makes her way to the opposite side of the building, where she knows for certain that there is a pipe that she can slide down. Which she does. 

When she reaches the ground floor she can hear the ruckus of the security guards arriving at the window. She hesitates for a moment to see if they’ll fall for her decoy and at the angry yells that reach her ears she knows that they did. 

Not wasting another second she pulls out her compass, and heads west. The road there leads to a quiet dead end on Waver street, and if she slips into the clothes shop at the corner and changes she can almost certainly avoid any remaining suspicion. 

Breaking into a sprint, Amy manages to steal a jacket out of an unsuspecting stranger's bag, she drapes it over her shoulders and tucks the egg under it. Now she’s weaving through the crowd, and when she reaches the mostly abandoned part of Waver street she lowers her guard, breaking into a simple stroll. 

Now that she’s almost certainly about to get away with it, she can’t hold back her satisfied grin. Not only had she got the egg, but she’s also eliminated her number one competitor. (And pain in the ass.) 

There's almost a spring to her steps as she walks, giddy with the endorphins of a job well done. 

Until she hears him. 

“Hey! Santiago, wait up!” 

She swings around, and is met with the sight of a rapidly approaching Jake Peralta. 

How the hell did he escape? 

“Don’t call me that!” She shouts, breaking back into a sprint to avoid him. 

“Okay fine, Miss Bishop .” He calls out, “Look, don’t run! I have a preposition!” 

She ignores him completely, vaulting a pile of debris and rubble, his heavy footsteps still behind her. 

As Amy catches sight of the clothes shop she was supposed to make her getaway in, she realises with a pang that it leads to a dead end, and Jake will almost certainly catch up to her and make a ploy for the egg.

So instead she turns left, despite the fact that it would lead her straight into the main road, where there are almost definitely hordes of police officers searching for their museum's precious egg. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

“Bishop!” 

Amy still ignores his cries, and soon finds herself on the way to a too crowded main road. The wail of police sirens reach her ears from her right, so she makes a hard left. 

Maybe. Just maybe she’ll be able to make it to Denver avenue, which leads her to the port. She could just steal a boat and make her way to the emergency beach villa she had rented a month ago. 

It’s a bit risky but hey, that’s the fun part right? 

There are still heavy footsteps behind her and she knows it's Jake. The man is nothing if not stubborn. 

Soon Denver avenue is just a corner away and a burst of confidence hits her, maybe she’ll pull this off after all. She makes a quick turn, but freezes immediately at the sight before her. 

Red and blue lights bounce off the walls of the small alleyway connecting to denver avenue, a police car takes up most of the alley, and when she enters the two patrolmen whip their head around. 

Their eyes widen when they see the egg tucked under her jacket. Her heart sinks. 

“Ha- Hands up!” One shouts, whipping out his gun with shaking hands. 

Pft. Fresh meat. 

Amy’s just about to confidently turn around and run when a strong force slams into her from behind. She stumbles, nearly falling over, the egg slips out of her arms, rolling right past the patrolmen. 

“He..hey. Why’d you stop?” 

Jake Peralta’s voice reaches her ears, his panting form leaning against her. Her heart sinks even further. 

“Oh. That’s why.” 

They both turn around to run but are immediately faced with a wall of guns. She looks around, but before she can figure anything out they're both surrounded. 

“Hands up! Down on the ground!” 

Begrudgingly they follow, officers dashing to cuff them. 

“Sorry, I have a feeling this one’s on me.” Jake whispers. 

“I hate you.” Amy snaps. “So much.” 

Chapter Text

This is all his fault.

“This is all your fault.”

Jake’s eyes widen and he snorts indignantly, “My fault?”

“Your. Fault.” She snaps.

He scoffs but doesn't reply, instead casting his gaze around the room they’re in. They’re both handcuffed, and surrounded by lifeless grey walls. There’s a dusty old mirror facing them - a mirror Jake had spent the first ten minutes of their time here making faces at.

Amy couldn't help but tap her feet anxiously against the floor, she was jittery. Of course she was, she had just been arrested. Jake, however, was totally at ease, and was currently absentmindedly blowing the air out of face.

A moment of silence passes between them.

“Okay wait. How is this my fault?”

A burst of annoyance erupts inside her.

“You attracted the attention of law enforcement unnecessarily, chased after me and then bumped into me, causing both of us to get arrested and lose the egg. What do you mean, how is this your fault?”

Peralta opens his mouth to respond but the door to the room snaps open, drawing an abrupt close to their conversation.

“Good evening Peralta.” Diaz says, grinning from ear to ear.

“Hey Diaz, how’s the head?” Jake pipes back.

The smile disappears for a slight second but it quickly returns, “Don’t worry Peralta. Tease me however you want, you're not getting away this time.”

Jake has the audacity to laugh.

“That’s exactly what you said the last three times you caught me.” He smirks.

Diaz sucked in a deep breath, the case files in her hand nearly ripping from her tightening grip.

“Nope.” She recovers, smiling again, “You’re not getting to me this time. I am sending you to the most secure, most vioelent, most un-fucking-escapable detention centre there is.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, lips still curled in a slight smirk.

“Oh, I can’t wait to wipe that smug smile off your face in court, and watch as you finally get shipped off to a prison where you’ll never see the light of day ever, ever again.” She continues.

“I’m not getting to you?”

Diaz steps back, a rigid smile forced back onto her face. Amy bites back a laugh.

“No, you're not.” She replies, but now she turns her attention back to Amy, “You are getting me a promotion.”

“How so?” Amy tries to copy Jake’s nonchalance but a slight quiver in her voice betrays her.

“The bishop. Wanted in more countries than this guy,” Rosa smiles, “and not only do I know your identity, I have you in custody. Pretty darn big deal.”

Peralta scoffs next to her, but otherwise remains silent. Amy shifts in her seat.

“Amy Santiago.”

The one in question bites her lip, avoiding eye contact.

Diaz flips open a case file, turning it over to face the thieves.

“Amy Santiago ran away at 13. Parents filed a missing persons report.” She says, eyes meeting Amy’s, “Police searched for years but, nothing. We’ve already contacted them by the way.”

A tense silence clouded over the room.

Amy doesn't reply but her nervousness is more than evident. Jake suddenly shifts uncomfortably next to her, his body tensing up.

“Big mystery solved.” Diaz leans back in her chair, “The true crime podcasts will love this.”

“Okay look are you here to gloat or interrogate us?” Jake snaps.

Diaz grins, leaning over the table to get closer to him, “Gloat mostly.”

The inspector laughs as Jake tenses even more, fists clenching and straining against his handcuffs.

“The actual reason I’m here is to tell you two, that you’re going to Peureux Detention Centre.” Diaz sweeps up the case files on the table, standing up to leave, “See you in court guys!”

As she leaves, Jake sighs in relief, “Phew, she’s finally gone. Real party pooper isn't she?”

He receives no response, Amy’s gaze is transfixed to the floor, her back slumped. In all the years they’ve been rivals, Jake has never seen her like that. So lacking her usual fight.

“Hey,” He nudged her chair, “You okay?”

Amy turns around to face him, her eyes are shining, and a tear pushes its way down her cheek. Heavy breaths escape her lips, her hands are clenched tightly.

“No, I’m not idiot.”