A/N: These fine gentleman and their published and TV adventures do not belong to me. I just bring them out to play when I'm bored. I make no money, I just have fun and hope you do too. I promise I will put my toys away when I'm done. Honest.

Lizzy picked up her bag and stuffed in pens, pencils, a tightly sealed bottle of India ink and a chamois. She scrounged around the top of the drafting table, looking for an eraser and knocked over a partially consumed mug of cold tea.

"Shit!"

Already late for class, she pulled the rag out of the pocket of her jeans and blotted the stain off a half-finished assignment. Chucking the cloth in the trash, she grabbed her portfolio case and bolted out the door. Mrs. Molinaro, who owned the deli at the corner of Chestnut and Mason, waved as Lizzy blew by her. Lizzy's apartment sat atop the small store. It was little over three blocks to The San Francisco Institute of Art at 800 Chestnut Street, but it was straight uphill.

She was panting when she flew into the drawing studio that occupied room A113.

"Late again, Ms. Grisko."

"Give it a rest, Todd."

Todd Walters was the instructor, but everyone, including Lizzy, just called him Todd, after all it was the 70's. He gave Lizzy the creeps, but as he was a celebrated teacher, she kept her mouth shut. She set up at one of the easels standing around the platform, where a model had already started a 20 minute pose.

Coming from a suburban Catholic high school, the first time a man had come into class and shed his clothes mortified Lizzy. After two years however, drawing a naked man or woman was as commonplace as sketching a bowl of fruit. Ted, who was today's subject, was handsome and well-built. Most of the models were neither. He was also completely stoned, which was business as usual when he sat for the class. Lizzy could never figure out why he would pose totally au natural except for white crew socks on his feet.

Lizzy started to draw but paused as Todd came up behind her, so close his tobacco and clove scented breath tickled the hairs on the back of her neck. Oh how chic, Turkish cigarettes. Even her thoughts about him were sarcastic.

Tall, slim and sophisticated, he was the epitome of artistic cool in John Lennon glasses, and he knew it. His jeans and black t-shirt were just snug enough to highlight his physical assets. In Lizzy's estimation he was a sleaze, using his position as teacher to bed as many female students as possible per semester. It was always uncomfortable to have someone watch you draw, but Todd made her skin crawl. She always felt like she needed a shower after his class.

After a few comments, he moved on and she breathed a relieved sigh. If he wasn't such a talented and successful artist, she would have reported him and ended her career before it started.

Jeff Powers, a fellow third year student, was at the easel next to her. He was ordinary in every way except for a long ponytail of silky black hair, which was the envy of every girl in the class. A good draftsman in his own right, he was one of her classmates in the Illustration department and Lizzy's only true friends at the Institute, other than her roommate. He looked at her with sympathy, rolling his eyes and mouthing asshole. Lizzy smiled slightly and got down to work.

3 hours flew by. There was still another three hours of drawing to go, but Lizzy was grateful for the arrival of 11:30 am, lunch break. Jeff stopped before he broke for the door. "I gotta run and buy some pantone paper, but see you later ok." He inclined his head towards Todd. "Don't get caught alone with that jerk." She nodded her head and smiled as she brushed several stray brown curls out of her eyes.

By the time her things were packed up, she was the only student left. Todd was trying to rouse Ted, who had fallen asleep during the final pose of the morning session. Lizzy slipped out into the court yard and stretched her sore muscles in the weak November sunshine. Some one was playing a sitar in the corner. What a freak show this place could be sometimes.

She walked out to the hot dog cart on the corner and got a dog and a TAB. At only a dollar, it was the cheapest lunch going and all she could afford till payday next week. Art supplies were expensive and ate up most of her paycheck. She couldn't complain. Her folks were picking up most of the dime for college, at least the part student loans didn't cover.

Back in the courtyard, she sat on a low wall and ate her lunch alone. Although she was personable and ok looking, in an ethnic European sort of way, she was a bit of an outcast. Raised in suburban Hillsborough by blue collar parents, the city kids considered her an unsophisticated hick. She continually had to prove herself, despite her talent and drive. To make things worse, she was in the commercial arts program, which according to the students on the fine arts side of the house, made her a sellout. Was it so square to want to pay your bills?

Lizzy pulled her long wavy brown hair into a messy tail and slipped a pair of shades over her brown eyes. She stretched out on the wall and took a deep breath. After the remaining 3 hours of drawing class, she still had another 3 hours split between art history and English lit. That would put her home no earlier than 7pm. With assignments to finish, it was going to be another late night.

A shadow blocked out her futile attempt to gather a few minutes of tepid sun. She opened her eyes and saw Pam, her roommate, obstructing the light.

"Geez, can't I get a minute's worth of daylight?" Lizzy sat up and Pam plopped down beside her.

Pam was Lizzy's roommate of two years and she was everything Lizzy wasn't. Tall, blond and gorgeous she was a San Francisco trust fund baby. Talented enough to get into the Institute, she was a painter, who vacillated between trying to express herself and find herself. Whatever short comings she had academically, she compensated for with personality and sex. Pam was not terribly choosy about her partners, male or female and used the bedroom as a tool to get what she wanted. Lizzy suspected she would go far in the art scene in San Francisco.

It would have been really easy to hate Pam. Her steady income, breezy personality, beauty and sexual appetites were off putting for many of the young women at school. To Lizzy however, hating her would be like hating the wind. She was truly a force of nature, vibrant, funny and a loyal friend. Theirs was an odd pairing, Lizzy with her feet on the ground and Pam with her head in the clouds. Somehow it just worked. One bonus for Lizzy, on any given Saturday night there was always plenty of booze, the occasional joint and her choice of cast off males if she was in the mood. Sometimes it bugged the hell out of her to play second fiddle to her stunning roommate, but in all honesty the last two years had been one wild ride.

"Are you going out with me tonight," Pam asked taking a sip from Lizzy's diet soda.

"No can do. I gotta finish the assignment for my illustration class tomorrow or I'm screwed."

Pam laughed, "The plight of the working girl, deadlines, deadlines, deadlines. You should transfer to the painting department. We don't fuss about inconsequential things like time."

"Yeah, but you've got daddy's money to keep you afloat. I'm gonna have to work for a living at some point."

Pam adopted her classic pouty face and a melodramatic southern belle voice. "Oh, my poor Ms. Lizzy, forced to toil with pen and ink to keep the wolves from her door."

"Shut up, Pam." They both laughed. This was part of their continual patter.

"Come on, Van Morrison is at the Matrix tonight."

Lizzy looked at her watch. "Sorry, art waits for no woman." Lizzy gave Pam a hug and stood up. "Hey, do me favor and be careful tonight, don't bring home any strays. I gotta get back to class. Todd is being a pain in the butt about tardiness today. Geez what dirt bag."

"Hey don't say that about Todd, you know how to get an A in his class."

Lizzy shook her head in revulsion, yeah she knew exactly what Pam had done to get an A in Todd's class.

"Hey, don't look at me like that Lizzy. As opposed to most of these old geezers, he was GREAT in the sack."

Lizzy worried about her roommate. Even though she seemed to live a charmed life, Lizzy was afraid that one day Pam's bohemian lifestyle would catch up to her.

"Well if you don't come tonight, you have to come with me to the gallery opening tomorrow. Annie Leibovitz from Rolling Stone, It's going to be a real trip. Totally A list."

"Come on, you know I have to work tomorrow night," Lizzy was now getting a little aggravated with her carefree friend.

"It doesn't start till eight. Come after you're off. Please." Pam stood and said the last bit yanking on Lizzy's pony tail and drawing out the words in a childlike plea.

Lizzy laughed at her wacky friend and agreed to meet her tomorrow. Pam was right about one thing. Gallery openings, which she could never get into without Pam's presence, were always far out. The young women hugged again and Lizzy returned to the studio for the rest of class.

00000

It was after 7 pm. Lizzy had survived another 9 hour day and was trudging up the stairs to her apartment. She could hear the phone ringing as she shoved her key into the lock. Dropping her bags at the door she ran in and grabbed the phone, calling out a breathless hello into the receiver.

Nothing. She was getting a little sick of callerless phone calls. She had talked to Pam about changing the number or calling the cops, but Pam just laughed it off. Lizzy slammed down the phone in disgust and went back out to retrieve her bags. When she came back in, she noticed there was a note next to the phone.

L, I borrowed your brown maxi skirt, burnt orange turtleneck and macramé belt. I promise I won't wreck them. Might not make it home tonight. Don't work too hard! See you at school tomorrow, there's something I need to talk to you about. Love, P

P.S. I left you some chicken in the fridge.

Typical Pam. I finally save up the dough to get some new threads and she wears them before I even get a chance. They better be in good shape when she gets back, or I won't have anything to wear to the gallery opening. Lizzy pulled the dish of chicken out of the fridge, ignoring the pile of dishes in the sink. Well, at least she left me some dinner for a change.

00000

Mike pulled up to Steve's Union Street apartment at 7 am and leaned on the horn. Steve poked his head out of the door and flashed a number one with his index finger. Mike turned off the car and pulled out the paper. One minute usually stretched into 5 by his partner's watch.

Steve jogged down the stairs as he put the finishing touches on the Windsor knot of his tie.

"Why so early? I didn't expect you for another 30 minutes."

"We've got another one."

A/N: So I'm back. And back in school, college this time. I'm hoping this will turn out to be a straight up murder mystery, but who knows? I was a student at an important urban art college during the run of the show. (Unfortunately not in San Francisco) It was a weird and wonderful time and a place full of colorful characters and monumental egos. As I tell my high school students when they think they're going to shock me with something, "Really? You do know I went to art college in the 70's!" I should add that none of the original characters represent any actual person, living or dead, so if I went to college with you, please, don't sue me. Hope you enjoy the story. MBC