What if we saw the story from Oliver's perspective instead of Andy's? How did everyone else see the relationship as it developed?

I don't own the show, the script, the hot cops, none of it. :(

Enjoy

Well, Shit.

Shit. Shit.

That's the phrase that popped into Officer Oliver Shaw's head the second he looked into the rear-view mirror. Clearly he had drawn the short straw with this rookie. She was a dud. Well, maybe that was harsh. It was her first day, after all. And all shiny new coppers want to be heroes, thinking they can single-handedly clean up the streets in one day.

But that did not explain why his best friend was in cuffs looking back at him sullenly through the screen from the back seat.

Shit.

"Ah-mazing," was the only verbal response he could summon without giving more away than he wanted to. Sometimes Oliver was amazed that he had never been approached for undercover work.

"What?" came from his rookie, picking up his sarcasm.

"Noth-nothing. Nothing. That's uh-that's good work," he said, curt smile in place, clapping her on the back, a slight nod to the man in the rear view mirror. "Let's book these bad boys."

Shit.

As they drove in silence, Oliver realized the dilemma at hand. Somehow he had to get the "suspect" back out on the streets as soon as possible, without alerting the other detainee. Pulling into the garage, he was quick to park.

"Alright, let's get these guys processed," he said getting out of the cruiser hastily. "Now McNally, you got that guy," he said pointing a finger across the trunk of the vehicle to the man in the bowler hat. He pulled his friend out of the cruiser, quickly, sharing a look that was hopefully understood to mean that he would do what he could to get this guy out.

"Okay, I am gonna get this guy into a holding cell."

"Don't you need to book him first?" the rookie asked.

He would have to explain this situation to her later after it had been cleared up. They still needed to have the talk, after all. "Yeah, usually—."

Another over eager rookie appeared, "That's cool officers. I'll take it from here." Pointing to McNally, "Nice work!"

Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, Oliver retorted, "You know what's not cool? I said I got him." He certainly didn't want anyone to recognize him now that they were in familiar territory.

Then he heard it. "Where's Jeff?" Jerry. Jerry could help him get past all of these rookies. That is until he heard him say, "Who the hell are you?" There was a look of recognition as the cuffed man tried to turn his face away. Too little, too late. "Hey Sammy, buddy! I can't believe the drug squad is giving you back. Welcome home…" Now he realizes. Stupid Jerry. Stupid. Stupid. How was he going to recover from that? "…I mean, because I haven't seen you here since I put you away…" Real smooth, Jerry. You fail at life, Oliver thought to himself.

Then from behind him, Oliver hears the other guy, "You're a cop?"

Then his rookie, "A cop?"

"No. Shut up!" Oliver was now trying and failing miserably to salvage what was left of the situation.

"What the hell is he doing here?" yelled Jerry.

"I was trying to get him into a holding cell," Oliver replied quickly, reaching into his pocket for the key to the cuffs.

"Maybe a little heads up would be in order?" Then everybody started talking over one another and Oliver couldn't take it anymore.

"Shut up. Everybody Shut up!" He uncuffed Sam, and who made his way through the locked door ahead.

"Sorry, buddy, sorry." Sam looked back and gave a reassuring wink to McNally. Oliver just shook his head. She would be in for it before long. Even though, for certain, Sam had to know that it wasn't really her fault he got made. Stupid Jerry. Even though, Oliver knew under other circumstances, it would be impressive that McNally had caught him. He was one of the best.

Before long was a lot sooner than Oliver was prepared for. Jerry started, "Sam, I'm so sorry. I-."

Sam's harsh chuckle interrupted. "What do you think? I'm standing there, dressed like a punk, I'm in cuffs. Many would assume I'm still undercover."

McNally stepped forward to speak. And all Oliver could do was pray she didn't. "Sir, it was my fault."

Sam turned to look at her, then him. "She's a rook. She's not supposed to be running around on her own!"

Oliver was hoping somehow Sam would get over his anger. "Sam, I know. It got kinda stretched out. I told her to clear the rest of the house." And she did. And she kept him from leaving the scene. She did her job. But Oliver knew that wasn't the issue. Oh, dear, she was talking again.

"And he matched the description. I arrested him, but I didn't know!"

Sam had this incredulous look on his face, like someone had just punched his mother. "I-I told you, 'Don't do this. You're making a mistake.'" Well that was clichéd. Oliver had to stifle a chuckle.

"Ok, well everybody says that, don't they?"

"Is that what they say?"

"Why didn't you just tell me you were working undercover?"That was a stupid question. But the girl was new. Oliver didn't know how to alleviate the situation. There was no secret handshake, but everyone who had been there, knew Sam was on a job in the area. Everyone except the rooks.

"I told you I was on the job. I couldn't exactly break it down for you. My guy was right there, biggest mouth on the street, which is why he's my guy. Eight months, eight months, undercover living in a hole, cultivating informants –," he continued as she interrupted him.

"Okay, well I'm sorry for being new, okay?"

"- finally getting people- finally getting people to talk to me and some Bambi comes along, first day arrests a cop from her own division, trying to be a hero." Turning to Jerry and Oliver saying words dripping with disdain, "Thanks pal. Friends forever," as he storms out of the office.

Oliver looked at Sgt. Boyko, who sat twirling his pencil against a notepad in front of him. He would go easy on the rookie, hopefully. He heard Jerry leave, and took that as his cue to leave as well. Boyko still wanted to talk to her. Giving her a supportive squeeze on the shoulder and exits.

From the main floor he can see that Boyko was very composed, speaking quietly. McNally, near tears at the whole situation, refuses to let a single one drop. He says something with a smile, probably "don't let it happen again" or something to that effect.

Oliver watched as she left the office with a new resolve in her step. Oh, hell. She walked straight for the men's locker room. Nothing good could possibly come from this… It was time for a sandwich.

Oliver had just returned from the deli around the block, and instead of going inside to enjoy his food, he chose to stay by his car and enjoy the weather, as well. Mostly because he was afraid his overeager rookie would appear at his desk and try to redeem her faux pas from earlier.

And just mid-bite, he looked up and saw that same overeager rookie walking toward him, resolve in her step. "Hey! We need to go back to the house." Just what he was afraid of.

"We don't need to do anything," he said taking another bite. "I don't even want to have the talk anymore." It was true. He was currently de-motivated to have any sort of uplifting first-day speech.

She persisted, "Yeah, but I just got some more information, and we need to relay it to homicide. I talked to the undercover guy." Of course she did. And if he knew Sam as well as he thought he did, the information was either very good, or the complete opposite. That must have been what she had marched into the locker room for. Oliver couldn't wait to see the result. Leaning back onto the hood of the car, he fished his keys out of his pocket and tossed them to her.

Chuckling, he said, "Fine. You drive, I'll digest."

The drive had been quiet, McNally never even said what it was she was going to relay. As soon as they arrived at the scene she was out of the vehicle and bounding up the stairs. Oliver waived a hand at her and finished his food. He exited the car and checked his watch. He would give her ten minutes.

Twenty minutes later, Oliver walked into the building speaking into his radio "McNally, what's your 20?" He received no answer. Walking through the door to the apartment he spotted the homicide detective. "Hey Luke?" he asked, getting the man's attention.

"Yeah?" the man returned, walking over to meet him at the door.

"Have you seen my rookie? She's not answering her radio."

There was a laugh in his eyes when he replied, "Go easy on her, it's her first day."

Oliver could have rolled his eyes. Clearly, Luke was interested. "Yeah," then he turned his head back to his radio, "McNally, what's your 20?"

Luke looked back at him and stated simply, "She's outside, looking for evidence."

Shit.

He was gonna kill Sam. Kill him. This was supposed to be an easy day. "Come on pal. You think that's for real? Swarek's really pissed off." For emphasis, he continued, "That is a payback goose chase if I've ever seen one."

Luke's blunt reply was, "Well, that's where she is."

Shit.

"Well, you know where I am…" he said walking outside. The girl had probably had her radio turned off again. A little bit of his instinct told him that that might not be the case. There was a shooter on the loose, after all. He shrugged away the odd feeling and made conversation with one of the other uniformed officers on the lawn. Another few minutes later he looked up and saw her walking toward him. Not alone. She was leading a man, matching the exact description given by the prostitute, and the look on her face was completely the opposite of the expression she had donned this morning after her first "arrest."

McNally looked scared, like she had just been held at gunpoint. She gave him a small smile and looked pointedly at the suspect. He was just a kid. And he noticed in her other gloved hand, she held the gun from the crime. Oliver smiled back at her. This girl was definitely not a dud. And he owed Sam a drink for not doling out his revenge today. The odd thing was, the Sam Swarek he knew, wouldn't have given her that information so easily.

What did she do to make him talk? Oliver settled with promising himself to talk to ol' Sammy-boy later.

After they got the kid put into the system, Oliver caught back up with his rookie. He figured she was the type that got involved in the sad stories, like he did. "I called the hospital, and that guys little sister-she made it." He had made the call while she was booking the kid.

"Good. That's great. Yeah, you should probably tell him." She was clearly still a little unsure of herself, a little shaken up. But he still had a little business before he could be encouraging.

"Yeah, no, what's great is that her blood work is clear. You still have to get tested, ok?" After a meaningful pause, they had almost reached their destination.

There was still something that had been eating at him about her. It was the way she had deflected when he went to ask her about her name. He understood that her father had given so much to his job, that when things got difficult at home, the man turned to work, then he turned to the bottle. He could understand why she wouldn't want to be associated with the unfortunate ending his career had.

"Well I, uh, used to work with a guy named McNally a long time ago. He was my training officer for a while but he… kind of…I, well, I heard that he hit a rough patch awhile back but he was always a good guy."

"Yeah, he is." She smiled at him and he could tell his words had helped her unease.

"Anyway, I just wanted to say that that "fresh paint" line from before? That was his. I don't know where he got it but it was his first. And I always kind of liked it." He led her over to the detectives' offices and knocked on the frame of the open door. "Hey, Luke," he said alerting the younger man to his presence. He nudged the rookie through the door and walked away.

And it was funny, because he could already tell Luke had a thing for the girl. There was something very endearing about her, probably the same quality he loved in his wife. This only served to remind him that he had quite the list of stories to share with her this evening.

Oliver could tell already that this would be quite the year.