I'm back, and so is Charlie. This fic follows close upon 'Leave the City of Your Comfort' and is a part of that series. This means that herein you will find the following: asexual!Mike, an ace (asexual) OC (Charlie), and a married Marco. This fic features characters that are described as sex-averse asexuals, meaning they not only do not feel sexual attraction but also have no desire to actually participate in sexual acts. I ask you to be respectful of this. I ask you to simply be respectful in general.

Warnings: This fic will contain strong language, violence, and some discriminatory slurs in later chapters that would have been commonplace during the time period in which this fic takes place. A warning will accompany any chapters that feature any of these as the slurs especially may be triggering.

As usual, I have tried my best to do some research but if there is anything blatantly wrong, please PM me and I will work to fix it ASAP.

Edit: as someone so generously pointed out, I am unfamiliar with full police procedures. Please bear with me and, as previously stated, please be respectful.

"Ding dong! Coolest chick in the world is here with donuts!"

Mike wasn't quite prepared for the clattering and cheering that rose up from the locker room at that announcement. John and Chet practically fought each other to get there first, Marco not far behind them.

"Ooh! I want the one with the sprinkles!"

"What's the pink one?"

"No! I wanted that one!"

"Hey, that one's mine! Hands off!"

"But it looks so good!"

"That's why it's mine!"

"See what you've done, Charlie?" Cap called over the hubbub, "You've reduced my nice, orderly station to chaos. I hope you're happy."

"Well, I've got donuts, so… yeah," she smirked, "I'm pretty happy."

Cap shook his head, but he was smiling as he reached into the fray to grab a donut for himself. Mike fought through to get one, too, pulling Charlie into a quick one-armed hug and asking, "How was your shift?"

"Not too bad. Got cursed out by an old lady because I couldn't send an ambulance and paramedics for her cat," Charlie told him around bites of donut.

"Her cat? What was wrong with it?"

"Apparently, Homer the Cat threw up the biggest hairball she'd ever seen and so she wanted to be sure he wasn't sick. I tried to tell her to take him to the animal hospital, but she wouldn't listen to me. Had to get my supervisor on the line to explain it to her that she could get arrested for misusing the emergency number. It was the craziest thing."

"Sounds like it."

"Well, other than Mrs. Jenkins' cat Homer, the night shift was pretty quiet. Umm… had a run for 45s with a pretty bad hit-and-run… and a coupla trash fires. Nothin' big though."

"I hate hit-and-runs," John piped up, "How hard it is it to just stop and admit your accident and maybe try to help somebody?"

"Well, when you're drunk, you probably don't even know it. When you're not… I dunno, it's probably still pretty difficult."

"You would know, DeSoto," a voice joked from the doorway.

"Lt. Crockett," Cap greeted, "What brings you here?"

"Well, if you could hook me up with some coffee and maybe part with a donut, we could discuss it in your office, Hank."

Everyone watched them disappear into the office, and Charlie asked, "Who's that? Y'all didn't really look too happy to see him."

"That's Lt. Crockett, from LAPD," John explained, "The last time he was here was when Roy and me were accused of doin' a hit-and-run in the squad. We didn't do it, of course."

"See, this old guy working as a crossing guard apparently used to be an acrobat or somethin'," Roy continued, "and he occasionally liked to con cities and counties out of a few thousand dollars by pretending to be hit by government vehicles. That time, we were the unlucky pick. It was pretty crazy."

Charlie blinked while the men around the table made noises of assent and kept eating, trying to be as quiet as possible. Mike knew they were trying to hear what was going on in the office. They wouldn't be able to, but they could certainly try.

"Wait a minute," Charlie said, almost dangerously slow, "Roy and John were accused of hittin' someone with the squad and no one thought that was important enough to tell me?"

Everyone shared a glance. I though Chet told her.

"John, you didn't tell her?" Chet asked.

"Why's it my job? You're her brother!"

"Well, it was happening to you!"

"You see her more often!"

"Hell, with that logic, you might as well blame Mike!"

Mike almost choked on his coffee, spluttering, "H-How is it my fault?"

"You coulda told her. Charlie's your-… thing, after all."

"Thing?!"

Charlie was indignant, her mouth open, looking as if she'd never been so insulted in her life.

"What? What am I supposed to call you?" Chet asked, "Are ya his girlfriend?"

"Well, not quite-"

"Are ya just his friend?"

"No, but-"

"Jesus, Charlie, if you don't know what to call you, how'm I supposed to know?"

Charlie looked ready to retort but stopped, snapping her mouth shut. After a moment, she stated, "Chet, that was actually a fairly cogent and respectful argument. I'm both pleased and surprised."

"Thank you. I am capable of those sometimes. I don't why people are so shocked when it happens."

"We just see it so rarely, is all."

Chet stuck his tongue out at her, partially negating his argument. He did have a point, though. Mike and Charlie were… something. There was no doubt about that. Just what exactly they were, however, was another matter entirely. Boyfriend and girlfriend felt too loaded, while friend didn't quite feel loaded enough, while 'more than friends' (or 'living in sin,' as his mother liked to say) implied completely the wrong thing. It's something we should probably talk about soon. Charlie was still living with her brother, though she and Mike had discussed living together. Mike's apartment wasn't quite big enough for two people to live in full-time, and if they were going to get an apartment together, they wanted to be sure they could at least last as long as a lease. On this particular day, she was actually going to be staying with him until her shift that evening.

Cap and Crockett finally emerged from the office, neither wearing a good expression. An uneasy weight settled in Mike's stomach. This would not be pleasant.

"What's the matter, lieutenant?" John asked, trying to break the tension, "Someone else pretend to be hit by the squad?"

"Afraid not, Gage," Crockett replied, "It's, uh, it's pretty serious this time. The victim's critical, and-… damn, it'd be easier if y'all weren't just sittin' around like this…"

The mood darkened even more, an awkward silence hanging over the room. Crockett sighed, folding his arms, and asked, "I hate this… where were you last night at about 0130, Mr. Stoker?"

Silence buzzed in Mike's ears as every eye turned on him. Blood pulsed in his ears, through his bounding heart.

"Are-are you serious?" he responded incredulously, "I was here. Sleeping. I was on my shift."

"You're sure about that?"

"Yes, I'm sure! I was asleep all night!"

"Can anyone confirm that?"

Mike felt his mouth drop open. This was ridiculous. Heat flooded his face, anger flaring up in his chest. Cap spoke up, "Lieutenant, I can assure you, Stoker was here all night. The man doesn't wake up for anything but tones dropping. I'm not even sure I've ever seen him wake up to use the john in the middle of the night."

John agreed, "Yeah, when me and Roy get a call for the squad, he just goes right back to sleep. He's asleep before we're even outta the dorm! It's incredible!"

"And if you're gonna ask," Charlie piped up, "he sleeps all night when he's not at the station, too."

Chet snickered, ducking his head. Crockett turned to her, raised an eyebrow, and asked, "And who are you, miss?"

"Lt. Crockett, this is my little sister, Charlie," Chet answered.

"Pleasure to meet you, Charlie. Now, how would you know you know about Stoker's sleeping habits?"

"How else?" she replied with a shrug and a smirk.

Some embarrassment crept into Mike's face as Chet gave a loud snort and said, "Y'know, I can back her up on that one, actually, lieutenant. She's tellin' the truth."

"Yeah? And how would you know, Kelly?"

"How else?" he mimicked Charlie, throwing in a suggestive eyebrow wiggle.

John actually had to excuse himself from the room he was laughing so hard, and Mike had to admit it was pretty funny. Crockett let them all have their laugh for a moment before interjecting, "Alright, y'all, cut it out. This is serious. We have a critical victim in Rampart, and I have a serious problem."

The laughter died out in fairly short order. Crockett continued, "Look, Stoker, for what it's worth, I believe you were here sleeping all night, but I have an eyewitness who saw a red '67 Dodge D100, which you drive, at the scene as the hit-and-run vehicle and gave your license plate as the one on the truck. There's just no doubt your truck was used in a vehicular assault. I'm sorry, but it makes sense to assume you were the one driving your own truck, doesn't it?"

"Well, yeah, but I wasn't! I was here asleep! I swear!" Mike pleaded.

The other men jumped to his defense, swearing up and down on his sleep habits, that he'd slept the whole night, that he would never leave in the middle of a shift and that he certainly wouldn't try to kill someone.

"What about the truck? Did anyone hear the truck leave?"

"No," Mike replied, "that's one of the only things that would've maybe woken me up. It would've woken everyone in the dorm up, especially Cap and Roy and Marco."

"Why them more than anyone else?"

Marco answered, "The three of us have kids. You wake up to any noise that sounds remotely out of place when you have kids. A vehicle leaving our parking lot at that hour is unheard of."

Crockett heaved a sigh. Don't know why he looks so irritated. I'm the one being accused of runnin' someone down. Mike knew he was scowling, but he couldn't quite find it in himself to care.

"Well, it's lookin' pretty fishy to me, and I guess it is to you guys, too," Crockett said after a long moment, "You have my word that I won't rest until this thing is sorted out, 'cause I don't believe for one second you purposely tried to run down that woman last night, Stoker."

Mike's heart dropped.

"They… they did it on purpose?"

"Yup. Witness said the truck sped up to hit her friend. She screamed for her to move, but it was too late. Victim's lucky she's not worse, 'course she's not in great shape, either."

"Do you know her name?" Mike asked, "The victim?"

I could send over some flowers or something or ask Dix to keep an eye on her…

"Yeah, her name is Angelica Quigley. She's a bartender at the Blue Macaw."

sidenote: I looked up the D100 and I have to say it was probably one of the ugliest trucks I've ever seen but for some reason, I really like it.

Edit: Thanks to LACoFD143 for giving me some info. Didn't know 'friends with benefits' wasn't a thing, so that has been fixed.