A/N: This one is post-ep for "Watch"

Logan POV

This case had given me the creeps and I was more than happy to hand Art and Duane off to the waiting officers.

There was something about Duane's vacant stare.

"You ever wonder why I don't have kids?" I said to Barek as I gathered up the photos from the table. "Now you know."

She was quiet and so I glanced up at her as I finished picking up the documentation.

She looked as shell-shocked as I felt.

Sometimes that happened.

We might catch a dozen killers in a month, but there'd be one who stuck out more than the others. One who came back in dreams.

I had a feeling that Duane might be one of those.

Art, although equally culpable, was just a bully and a brute. Obviously, I don't condone what he did, but I could understand it.

Duane was another story.

He was the type of guy who might shoot up a high school or set up a sniper's nest inside of a clock tower.

"Let's get out of here," I said, anxious to escape the bad vibe in the interrogation room.

Watching that video Duane had made where his caricature so callously blew away Art and his parents, as well as Barek and myself…well, like I said. I was ready to move on to the next case so that I could put this one in the past.

We went back into the squad room where I unceremoniously dumped the case file onto my desk while I mentally debated what type of quick take-out would be dinner for tonight.

I turned around to get my coat and was startled to find that Barek was directly behind me.

So close, in fact, that she had to sidestep quickly to avoid having me bump into her.

I looked at her quizzically, not used to having her in my back pocket.

"So where do you want to go?" she asked me quietly.

I stopped cold.

I was only partially through the process of putting on my coat, but her question threw me, stalling my movements.

Go?

Had we been given another case already?

Because I'd been working with Barek for three months already, and we didn't go anywhere that didn't have something to do with work.

And that wasn't by my choice, but by hers. She'd been pretty clear about that line in the sand, and I respected her wishes.

So I kept staring at her as I tried to figure out what she meant, but instead of responding, she started drifting back towards her desk.

"Oh, I get it," she mumbled. "You didn't mean…"

"Barek," I interrupted. "What are you talking about?"

She turned back to look at me, and she actually looked slightly embarrassed.

"Never mind," she said, waving me off. She grabbed her coat from the rack and took off for the elevator. "I'll see you tomorrow," she added without looking back.

I stared at her for another minute while I tried to process what had just happened, and then I gave up on it and instead hustled after her.

"Hey, hold the elevator," I called out. The doors, which were almost closed when I yelled out, suddenly came back open.

"Barek, what the…" I began, and then I stopped because Deakins was on the elevator, too.

As much as I like our boss, I don't share my personal life with him.

And somehow I had the feeling that our conversation was going to be personal.

Just that thought alone intrigued me, but now I had to wait a few more minutes.

"Oh, hey, Captain," I said as I stepped onto the elevator. "I was just…"

"I said I'd type up the 509 tomorrow," Barek said easily, as though I'd come after her because of the paperwork on the case. "I wasn't going to leave you with everything."

"I didn't…oh. Okay," I said when it hit me that she was covering.

But covering for what?

"Nice work on that case," Deakins said. "Most other detectives would've written it off as a solo murder."

"No one's that good on the first go-round," Barek replied, deflecting his praise.

"Still…you two went with your gut. And now Carver's got a slam dunk. That's the kind of result I like to see."

The elevator opened up in the parking garage and Deakins and I both paused, letting Barek go out first.

"Good night," she said as she quickly headed for her car.

I tried to watch her without looking like I was watching her, because I wanted to know where she'd parked. As soon as I could shake Deakins, I was going after her.

Because I had to know…what was going on with her?

"You okay, Logan?" Deakins asked me, and I realized that I wasn't being too covert in my observation of Barek.

"Sure, Captain."

"Barek working out okay? It's been three months. Is the honeymoon over?"

"She's fine. She's a great partner," I said vaguely.

I could hear an engine start up, but Deakins was still standing firm in his effort to have a meaningful conversation with me.

"Good. Because I think she's helped smooth out your edges a little bit."

"What? Edges?" I asked distractedly.

"You've learned how to work a case without pissing everyone off," he clarified as he fought with himself not to smile.

"I don't always piss everyone off," I argued lightly. "Just the guilty ones."

"Well, I'm glad to hear you two have found your rhythm," he said, slapping me on the back. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He walked away and I started moving in the direction of the rumbling engine.

Barek drove an old clunker that was almost too big to fit into the parking spaces, so that, combined with the fact that her car's engine sounded like a Sherman tank, made it fairly easy to track her down.

She was just starting to back out of her parking space when I walked up to the driver's side and knocked on the window.

She put her foot on the brake and closed her eyes for a second.

I could see her lips moving and I knew that she was talking to herself again.

She did that a lot.

At first I'd thought it was pretty weird, but I was used to it by now.

I made the motion of rolling down the window since she was still just sitting there, and she finally bent down and cranked the handle, lowering the glass.

"Yeah?" she asked innocently.

"Yeah?" I repeated. "Barek, what gives?"

"What do you mean?"

For a moment, I looked at her in disbelief. And then I started to doubt myself.

Had I imagined the whole thing?

Her closeness, her embarrassment, her rush to leave…

And really, why was I pushing it so much?

Was it because on this particular case, watching her flirt with Duane to get a reaction from him had been somewhat arousing for me?

She had an arsenal of techniques she liked to use to cozy up to suspects, but it wasn't often she used her feminine wiles.

But she had with Duane, and I'd enjoyed watching her. It made me look at her slightly differently than I had before.

Or at least, it almost made me forget my steadfast commitment to not look at her that way.

She finally brought her eyes up to mine as she leaned her head back against the seat and let out a heavy sigh.

"You don't let anything go, do you?"

"I don't even know what I'm supposed to be letting go."

"Then why are you following me?"

"Why are you running away from me?" I countered.

"Oh, for God's sake, Logan," she said in annoyance, and then she jerked on the door handle, opening up the monstrous door and getting out of the car. She slammed the door closed behind her and then glared at me. "I made a mistake, okay?"

"About what? And why are you so pissed?"

"You really don't have any idea."

I held out my hands, but words escaped me.

"This is even more embarrassing," she mumbled. Then she ran her hand through her hair and looked at me challengingly. "You said let's get out of here. I thought you wanted to go out for a drink or something. And then when I asked you where and you didn't know what I was talking about, I realized that I'd misunderstood. There, are you happy now?"

"You thought I was asking you out for a drink?"

"Yeah, I know. Crazy, right?" she said derisively. Then she tugged on the door handle again in an effort to get back into the car.

"Wait," I said, putting my hand on the door to keep it closed. "Not crazy. Just…you've never wanted to have a drink with me before."

"You've never asked. And apparently you didn't today, either, which is fine. Just…"

"Barek," I said firmly. "Let's go have a drink."

"I don't need a pity date."

I didn't point out that she'd just called it a date. Instead, I reached through the open window and pulled her keys from the ignition.

"Come on. We'll take my car. I feel better driving something that was built in this century."

Without waiting for her response, I walked over to my car and got in. She was reluctant, but after a minute, she came after me and got into the passenger side.

"You probably have plans," she began.

"I do. With you. We're going over to O'Doyle's for a few drinks."

She was quiet as I pulled the car out of the garage and headed north toward the tiny pub.

"My car's a classic," she said after a minute.

"A classic what? Scrap of metal?"

"It's a '56 Ford Fairlane," she retorted defensively. "It's got a 5.1 V8. I thought guys were supposed to know cars."

"I know cars," I replied, biting back a smile. "225 bhp, right?"

She glanced at me skeptically and then shook her head and turned to look out the window.

She was uncomfortable as hell and I felt partially responsible. Apparently avoiding the subject wasn't going to work.

"I've never asked because you seem to like to keep your distance," I explained.

"Why, just because I don't share my innermost secrets?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "Honestly, I've never been partnered with a woman before. I wasn't sure of the etiquette. And besides, you never asked me either," I pointed out.

"That's true," she said quietly. "So what were you talking about when you said that?"

"Let's get out of here? I meant that room. Wasn't it creeping you out? I mean, that cartoon and his dead eyes…"

"Yeah," she said. "I know what I'm going to be dreaming about tonight."

"You, too, huh?"

It didn't take long to get to the pub, and I found a place to park only two blocks away.

When I cut off the engine, she paused before getting out.

"We don't have to do this," she said.

"Will you stop, please?" I replied with a half smile. "If I'd known you'd say yes, I would've asked months ago."

She smiled back and then turned to get out of the car.

But despite my confidence, I was still a little baffled about her motive.

Normally, I would've considered this a post-work kind of thing.

But she'd called it a date.

I was curious to see where this thing went.

Because I was certainly interested.

Just because I'd labeled her as off-limits didn't mean I hadn't had the random fantasy about her.

I definitely found her attractive.

But like I said, I'd never had a woman partner before.

Or not a permanent one, anyway. I was partnered with a woman briefly during my stint on the island, but I don't really count that.

And it's not that I have a problem with a female partner, because I don't. Barek's a great detective, a great partner.

But even if she hadn't given me the impression of indifference towards me, I still wasn't sure about the aspect of socializing with a partner of the opposite sex.

I mean, Lennie and I used to hang out during off hours fairly regularly, but no one would've ever accused us of sleeping together.

Of course, the rumors circulated regularly about Goren and Eames. They spent a lot of off time together. I didn't know whether or not they were sleeping together, but they apparently didn't care about the gossip.

Or maybe they didn't care because it was true, I pondered.

Huh.

I might have to quiz him on that one of these days.

But for now, I was curious to see what Barek had on her mind.

We went into the bar and spotted an empty table along the side wall.

The place was fairly crowded and it was frequented by cops, so I spent a few minutes making the rounds before I joined Barek at the table.

"You're a popular guy," she remarked when I sat down. I noticed that she hadn't spoken to anyone.

"I'm in here a few nights a week," I explained. "So are most of those guys."

I looked up as the waitress set down a pint of Beck's in front of me before looking expectantly at Barek.

"You have a usual," Barek said to me with a smile. Then she glanced up at the waitress and said, "I'll have whatever he's drinking."

"I wouldn't have pegged you for a beer drinker," I commented after the waitress left.

"I've been known to float a keg or two."

I barked out a laugh at her unexpected reply and said, "Hopefully not by yourself."

"You know, beer is one of the world's oldest beverages," she said in that understated tone of hers. "Its history dates back to the 6th millennium, BC."

"I didn't know that," I admitted. "Should I even ask what other random facts you have stored in that brain of yours?"

The waitress brought Barek her glass, which she promptly picked up and took a sip.

"Beck's," she stated, correctly guessing the brand. "The brewery was founded in 1873 by Lüder Rutenberg, Heinrich Beck and Thomas May."

"Really? Huh. It's probably a good thing they went with Beck's name instead of Rutenberg. I'm not sure it would've caught on."

She chuckled at my lame attempt at a joke and then took another drink of her beer.

It was awkward for a moment, despite the liveliness of the crowd around us.

I really wanted to ask her why she was suddenly interested in spending time with me after work, but before I could say anything, she spoke up.

"I know a guy on the island."

"Staten Island? A cop?"

"Yeah," she said with a shrug. "Not a boyfriend or anything. Just a friend."

"Okay…"

"When I told him that you were my partner, he gave me the scoop on you."

"What kind of scoop?" I asked.

I wasn't sure I liked where this was going.

"I didn't ask him or anything," she said. "I just mentioned your name. It's not like I was trying to get dirt on you."

Now I really didn't like the direction this was headed.

Had she heard something disparaging about me? Maybe she wanted to quit being my partner. Maybe that's what this drink-thing was all about.

"Just spill it, Barek."

"This is hard for me to say," she replied quietly. "And it's risky, so…just promise me that we'll talk about it."

I sat back in the booth, completely clueless as to what she was going to say.

Because first off, I'd kept my nose clean on the island. I couldn't imagine what kind of dirt anyone would have on me during my years there.

And before that…well, everyone knew about what had happened when I was at the 2-7.

I'd even said something to Barek about it already, mostly just to clear the air so that it wasn't the elephant in the room.

And secondly, I was now more than a little concerned that she was going to drop some kind of bombshell.

It was risky?

And she thought I might walk away without talking?

She tucked her hair behind her ear and continued to stare at me, apparently waiting for something.

And then it hit me. I was supposed to promise her that we'd talk.

"You're my partner," I said firmly, hoping to remind her of the importance of that fact. "You can say whatever you need to say."

"Okay," she said with a nod. "It was after the case with Judge Garrett. I called my friend because…well, because I wanted some advice."

"About me?"

"Uh huh. See…God, this is harder than I thought it would be."

She looked up toward the ceiling and began mumbling to herself.

"It doesn't have to be so damn hard. You're a grown woman. Just say it."

Despite my worry, I had to smile at her monologue. It was really a rather endearing quirk.

"Should I leave you alone to discuss this, or…" I teased lightly.

"I had a crush on you," she said suddenly. "And I've never been involved with one of my partners before, and I figured that it was probably a really bad idea, so I called my friend to tell him what was going on."

"You…had a crush."

"Yes."

"On me."

"Yes."

"Had?"

She smiled at my focus on her use of past tense, but I couldn't get over the words themselves.

She had a crush on me? But she'd never shown me any kind of sign at all.

"I was encouraged to get over it," she stated.

"By your friend?"

"He said that you…well, he said you were a real dog."

"I'm sure he meant that in the best possible way," I said sarcastically. I was starting to wonder about this friend.

"He said you'd been through every woman on the island."

"And he knows this…how?" I asked, doing my best to rein in my temper.

Who the hell was this guy?

And why was he trying to trash me like that?

I'm not going to say that I haven't been around the block a time or two, but I was always respectful.

And it hadn't been that damn many.

In the past ten years, I'd dated maybe a dozen women.

Since I'd gotten back to Major Case, I hadn't dated at all.

"Who is this guy?" I asked her.

"It doesn't matter. Look, I'm telling you this because it occurred to me that maybe he's wrong."

"Just now. So for the past six or eight weeks, you've thought you were partnered with a modern day Casanova. That's great. Did it ever occur to you that maybe he told you that so that you wouldn't pursue it?"

"That's exactly why he said it," she agreed.

"I mean because maybe he wanted you for himself."

"What? No. We're friends."

"Yeah, some friend."

"So it is made up," she said. "I thought so, but I wasn't sure and honestly, I've been burned so many times that I just didn't trust my own judgment…I'm sorry, Logan."

I was working really hard not to be pissed off, and I took a moment just to think this whole thing through.

The fact of the matter was that I'd been unknowingly cock-blocked by some guy on the island who had the hots for Barek, who in turn apparently had the hots for me.

Or at least she did.

I couldn't blame her for listening to him, considering she'd thought of him as a friend.

And she was coming clean with me now because she must have realized that I wasn't like that.

I needed to weed through the excess bullshit and get to the crux of the matter.

As far as our partnership went, her misconception was water under the bridge. It was irrelevant. We worked great together so no matter what she might have thought of me on a personal level, she hadn't let it affect her perception of me professionally.

Score one for Barek.

As for the personal matter, it bugged me more than a little because I'd always just assumed she was aloof on principle. She had no interest in cultivating any kind of relationship outside of work.

But apparently she did.

And even if the sexual attraction was gone, and she just wanted to be friends, I was good with that. I liked her and I wanted to get to know her better.

"I keep waiting for you to get up and leave," she admitted after I'd been quiet for several minutes.

"I don't break my promises," I replied.

"But you're mad."

"I'm…surprised."

"That I have a crush on you?"

"By everything. I misread your distance for disinterest," I answered, and then her wording sunk in. "Wait, have or had?"

"Well, I still think that partners in a relationship is a bad idea," she said carefully. "But I also can't help the way I feel. I'm definitely attracted to you."

"Attracted as in…you want to have dinner together sometime? Or does attracted mean that you're ready to tear my clothes off any time we're alone together?"

I said it in a teasing manner because that's my fall-back mode. She was being remarkably straightforward, and I knew that it had to be tough for her to lay it all on the line like that, and I just wanted to put her at ease.

It worked.

She laughed, ducking her head as she did so in a very feminine way. Then she looked up at me with those dark brown eyes and said, "The former."

"We can do that," I agreed with a nod.

"And maybe the latter," she added as a smile played on her lips.

"Well, why didn't you say so? I'd have taken you to my place instead of here," I joked. "Oh, wait. That would've been perpetuating that reputation, wouldn't it?"

"I didn't think less of you because of that," she told me, once again serious. "I just thought it would be better if things between us were strictly work-related. Like I said, I've been burned badly…more than once."

"You know, if you wanted to know about me, all you had to do was ask."

"I was supposed to just ask you if you'd slept with the entire female population on Staten Island?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, if I had then I'd probably be the type to be okay with talking about it," I reasoned. "But I didn't. Or at least I don't think so. Wait, how many women live on the island?"

She laughed again and then picked up her glass, tossing back the rest of her beer.

"And your friend," I added. "You're not going to tell me his name?"

"No, but I'm starting to think that maybe he's not such a friend."

"I'm telling you, it's because he wants you for himself."

"I don't know. Maybe."

The waitress stopped by our table to see if we wanted another round, but instead I asked for the check.

"Are we done already?" Barek asked me, and I was glad to see that she seemed slightly disappointed.

Because I wasn't done.

Not by a long shot.

"This is a cop bar," I reminded her. "Let's go somewhere else and have dinner. And then you can ask me anything you want to know."

TBC...