Case Closed. Cold Case Opened.

Code Name

One week later:

Holly attempted to sneak on to her desk chair without alarming her captain that she was -in fact- six minutes late, for the... lost-count time in a week. Her attempt was a failure, as just as she turned her chair inwards, Amy turned to her from her assistant. Holly huffed as she knew it was coming her way.

Amy glanced at the clock above the elevator. "You're late again, Peralta," She pointed out, "This is the third consecutive time you've been late in one week."

"Well, I'm sorry, I couldn't find anything to wear." Holly sighed, hardly looking up at her mother.

"Speaking of things to wear, why are you wearing that?" Amy questioned, raising one eyebrow like it was attached to a fishing hook.

Holly looked down at her one-size too big merchandise hoodie and grey sweatpants. "This is all I had left. I was in a rush this morning, I didn't have time to look through the pile of clothes in my floor." She muttered the ending.

"Is that pile of clothes the laundry I gave you two days ago and that I asked you to put away for me?"

Holly nodded, pulling the same sort of face that her father would pull. "Yes."

Amy took a deep breath in. "Holly, if you don't get your act together, there will be punishments." She warned.

"Okay, I'll get to work on time tomorrow." Holly waved her hands, looking back on to her desk.

"I'm not just talking about at work, Holly," Amy sounded upset all of a sudden. "I'm talking about at home, too. You're 23, and you still live with me, but you make it seem as if you live alone. You leave crap all over the house, you don't seem to care about the state of your bedroom, and you don't do the simple chores I ask you to do. I'm working exceedingly late tonight, and your shift ends at four, if I come home and your room isn't tidy, you're moving out."

Holly sat up in her chair in disbelief. "Mom, I'll be homeless! I don't have any money!"

"This is a work place, I am your Captain, not your mother," Amy stood straight. "Back to work." She walked back toward her office.

"I hadn't even started!" Holly yelled to her, and right after, the office door shut quietly. Holly slammed down hard on her desk chair. "Son-of-a-bitch." She mumbled.

"Don't worry, my dad gave me the same threat when I was your age. I didn't listen... now look at me!" A voice came from behind her.

She spun her chair to find Detective Hall laughing psychotically behind her chair. "Thanks Ash, just what I needed." She slowly thanked the fellow detective as he walked away.

She turned to Nikolaj and saw his horrified face. "That dick be crazy." He mentioned.

Holly laughed quietly. "Yeah... he kinda is."

**********

Holly was sat in the briefing room, with Johnes on her right. The Sergeant was informing everyone about the perp on a double murder. "Boyle, Cook, you work together and catch this guy." She informed, to have both the assigned detectives nod.

Amy walked into the briefing room and made immediate eye contact with Holly. "How's your case going, Peralta?" She questioned.

"Great, I've got case 4C8DF2198J under control!" Holly smiled with pride.

"Okay, dismissed." Amy stated, and one by one, the detectives left the briefing room. As Holly stepped up, Amy turned from Ava to her, "Peralta, a word."

Holly stood still where she stopped walking. Amy approached and smiled a reassuring smile. "Holly, are you sure you don't need any help?"

"Nope," Holly phrased, "I've got case 4C8DF2198J with me and I'm sure I'm gonna close it."

"That's the thing, case 4C8DF2198J has already been closed, nineteen-years-ago." Amy sighed.

"Captain, I'm on this case, I promise case 4C8D- we've got to come up with a different way to abbreviate the case."

"What are you thinking?" Amy wondered, raising her eyebrow.

Holly thought for a moment, before making the same face that Jake would make when he had figured out something. "I've got it! Case Closed. Cold Case Opened?"

Amy sighed. "You can keep that name, but don't say it around me, it's ridiculous." She walked back to her office.

Holly remained still. "I'm keeping it." She muttered to herself. 

************

"Holly, you actually did what I asked." Amy sounded surprised, standing in the doorway to her daughter's bedroom.

Holly sighed. "Well, yeah... 'cause I learnt today that I'm an adult, that's still living with their parent. I also learnt that being an adult means you have to be responsible, so I took the opportunity and cleaned my room, which is what you made abundantly clear is that I needed to do that."

Amy smiled. "Well, thank you, that's one thing off my list of jobs to do."

"I've also put away my laundry, sorted my desk, and cleared under my bed." Holly added.

Amy pulled her daughter into a hug. Half-way through, Holly whispered to her. "I've also found an apartment. I'm going to need to have more cases, to pay it off. I'm planning to move out next week, to get out of your hair."

Amy pushed away the hug. "That's incredibly responsible of you, Holly, I'm proud." She smiled. 

************

(... POV)

A large clash made me open my eyes. I sat up, feeling an immediate pain in my back, which was no surprise. It wasn't unusual. Some might say I could have had it my whole life. I don't though, but my identity does. My undercover name, my fake name, has that background. 

Whatever you hear, it's not true. Whatever I might tell you, it's not true. None of it is true. 

I got to my feet with a struggle and made my way out to see what made the noise. Stood in the kitchen was my 'friend'. 

"Hey, Erik." They greeted me, using the undercover name I had been assigned.

I nodded to them slightly. I looked out the window, hardly lifting up he blind. Outside was the view of the New Jersey-New York border. I was in the middle of nowhere, stuck.

I'm not Erik Stannard, a 58-year-old American-British photographer with a pathological fear of bananas as I might say I am. I'm Jake Peralta, an NYPD detective, with an allergy to poison ivy and bees and has the fear of heights -most probably-. I'm a man that is stuck, under constant observation by a maniac, a person that tells people in the streets that I'm their friend. 

I'd care to disagree.