Of all the places to be on the Eve of the new millennium, the last one Liam predicted he'd be when the idea first gained definition in his mind as a young man was sitting at a desk in the tiniest office of the largest precinct in London, with the most disagreeable partner God had ever had the misjudgment to breath life into.

Two years of early-morning runs, endless patrols, terse conversation, and awkward proximity had left Liam with a strangely empty feeling. He spent more time with Nicholas Angel than any other person in his entire life, that is when he averaged out hours together versus length of acquaintance. Yet he knew relatively little about his coworker, save that he enjoyed gardening and preferred black ink to blue, and that he hated Liam's cute little pen holder, a maneki neko, which he purposely faced toward Nicholas upon learning that it agitated him.

"Liam, you coming?" asked Kelsey Munsel, barging into the office and letting the door crash against the wall, making Liam flail in surprise. The gentle tinkling of porcelain and the rattling of free-range writing implements told Liam that his disturbingly cute cat-shaped pen holder had just met its demise on the far side of his desk.

He glanced over at Kels for a moment, catching a glimpse of Nicholas across the office, and was glad that his old friend from university couldn't see the horrifying glare being directed at his intrusion. Any person in the miniscule office without a work-related excuse was likely to be executed via death stare, courtesy of the unapproachable constable.

"We're going to the Balckfriar's in a tick," Kels continued, still oblivious, a mischievous smile playing across his face. Liam was always fascinated by the way light seemed to dance in his friend's eyes when he was excited, and now was no exception, his tousled blond hair indicating that some of the lads on the floor must have snuck some brandy into work.

The reserved look on Liam's face made Kels's exuberance falter, releasing his hold on the doorframe, which he'd been leaning through, and took a couple hesitant steps into the room. He caught himself on the second step, the reptilian portion of his brain sensing danger, and he gave Nicholas a wary glance; even with his head bowed, it was obvious that Nicholas wasn't thinking too hard about his paperwork, and instead was most likely formulating ways of inducing pain on the young intruder.

"You are coming, right?" Kels asked, turning back to Liam.

Liam opened his mouth to respond, but catching another scathing glance from Nicholas, this time directed at him, he knew there was no way of shirking his evening patrol.

"Liam," Kels sighed, leaning over his friend's desk, getting in his face, "There is no way you are missing out on tonight. It's been ages since you've come out with us, and the lads are starting to think you've taken up a bad habit."

He meant Nicholas. All three of them knew it.

"Besides," Kels continued, pretending he couldn't hear Nicholas shifting in his seat behind him, "It's not like you'll be seeing another millennium any time soon, mate. This is once in every few dozen lifetimes! Once every thousand years! There's no way you're missing out."

"Constable Nash," Nicholas broke in from across the office. He was on his feet, his jacket slung over his shoulder, giving Liam a decisive stare.

Kels frowned darkly as Nicholas rounded the desk, stopping a foot from Liam's desk, which was still closer than the two men wanted to be at any given moment. Glancing at the analog clock on the wall, Liam realized it was 9:30. They had a four hour circuit starting at 10. And bollocks if he wasn't dreading it already.

"Sorry, mate," Liam sighed, barely daring to make eye contact with Kels, as he hastily got up and grabbed his own jacket and hat.

Coming around his desk, Nicholas was already out the door, leaving Kels and Liam to follow, and as they came out onto the floor, Kels grabbed Liam's arm and drew him aside.

"Listen, Liam," Kels murmured, still holding Liam captive with a strong hand on his arm, "Nicholas Angel is bad business. Everyone here knows that. You know that. Didn't you ever wonder why he doesn't have a partner? Why he's such a hard-ass? Why he's obviously turning you into his fucking protégé?"

"I admit he's not the most amiable person," Liam said with difficulty, glancing toward Nicholas's rapidly retreating form. "But he's-"

"What? He's what?" Kels pressed, getting frustrated. "Your partner? So what? He's not your friend, Liam. I am. Wakeman is. Holbech, Bathe, Stetson, McCain, they're your friends, not this bloody ponce. He's going to ruin you! He already has."

Liam cocked his head slightly, glaring up at Kels and gritting his teeth; what the hell did Munsel know about it, anyway? He couldn't understand the glue holding him to Nicholas, the unspoken bond that had been forced on him, on both of them, their last line of cohesion when Liam pushed every other one of Nicholas's buttons.

"Listen, Kels," Liam said darkly, his free hand grabbing Kels's opposing shoulder, his intention to leave a bruise if at all possible, "I understand your concern, but it's really none of your sodding business. You're my friend, not my mum, and the last thing I need is somebody trying to push themselves on me like they have a bloody clue what I should or should not do with my fucking life, so if you'll excuse me, I've a beat to patrol."

He tried to pull away from Kels, but the grip on his arm was stronger than he'd imagined. A moment later, though, he was pulled into the most awkward of hugs, his body trapped between his friend's chest and the wall behind him.

"I'm not trying to push you," Kels muttered against his shoulder, sighing as he pulled away, "I'm trying to pull you back, mate. I don't want you getting hurt."

"Hurt?" Liam repeated, a confused look on his face. "You act like I've a crush on him."

Kels raised an eyebrow and bit back a laugh, shaking his head slightly and clearing his fringe from his eyes. In the distance, Liam could see that Nicholas had doubled back, giving him a concerned look from the stairs, apparently torn between hounding Liam and giving him his space.

Suddenly, Kels's mouth was almost against his ear, his head bowed, making Liam's body go stiff and forcing him to recoil. The hand still on his arm held him close enough to barely catch Kels's words:

"Your partner," he breathed, the words tickling Liam's ear, "His uncle, mum's brother, was a cop, just like him, all work and no play, no smiles, no friends. They got him, Derek Seward, on drug charges, but they never would have caught on in the first place…if he hadn't murdered someone first."

"What was all that?" Nicholas asked as they left the station, breaking his usual mode of silence.

"Sorry?" Liam replied, feeling severely flustered, Kels's words still lingering like a bad aftertaste.

"Constable Munsel, what was he doing?" Nicholas repeated, his tone hardly hinting at the curiosity Liam knew to be there.

"Just…talking," Liam bluffed, feeling his cheeks go red and hoping that Nicholas would play it off to the cold.

"He seemed to be getting rather friendly," Nicholas wheedled, actually looking at him for once as he spoke. "It obviously bothered you. It should be reported if it keeps up, Liam."

Liam was shocked. Nicholas was concerned? And using his first name? There was something amiss here, something not quite right, and the moment called for some witty comeback that Liam really didn't feel he could concoct with his brain so addled.

"He broke my cat," Liam redirected, fiddling with his hat, which suddenly felt oddly heavy. "I'm pretty sure that's bad luck.

"Thank God," he barely heard Nicholas mutter.

"I'll be sure the next one I get is huge," Liam taunted. "Size of your over-inflated ego, constable."

"Excuse me?" Nicholas shot, his eyebrows nearly melding with his hair line as he managed to form a smile. "I haven't a clue what you're on about, constable. The only religion I prescribe to is humility, and you'd do well with some of the same."

"See? D'you see the ego?" Liam cut in, practically bouncing with enthusiasm. "You're saying you're better than me by comparing us and putting me in a worse light. You're saying-"

"-That I am better than you, yes," Nicholas cut him off, nodding his head in agreement. "Actually, what I was saying, constable, was that each of us has room for improvement, and my way is simply in believing that principle to be omnipotent."

"Egotistical bastard," Liam niggled, noticing the edges of Nicholas's mouth betray him with a quick smile.

Their walk that night would take them along the Thames in possibly the best patrol of the evening for both sightseeing and volume of incidents, which was precisely why they'd been assigned that beat. There was a guaranteed menagerie of tomfoolery that most teams just wouldn't be able to cope with, but Angel and Nash had such a solid record that they were continually given harder and harder assignments, as if they were being tested more than anything.

"You feel like popping into the Blackfriar's, just to give the lads a shock?" Liam asked when they stopped for a moment outside the Temple Gardens at 11:10. There'd been a report of a pickpocket in the premises, and after a quick stroll around the perimeter and speaking to a slightly sloshy group of young ladies, who'd become a bit too enamored with Liam, they'd decided to post for a bit in hopes of finding a lead.

"Fraternization," was Nicholas's one-word reply. "Besides, we are working, constable. This is not a social club. The Met is a place of business, law enforcement, public protection. It is our task to ensure the safety of all civilians, not to mingle with them."

"Change the fucking record," Liam groaned, gesticulating angrily at Nicholas before letting his arms fall heavily to his sides.

He turned, pacing up and back along the sidewalk, a gaggle of teens wearing a gratuitous amount of glow-necklaces and bracelets crashing into him and nearly knocking him down, which he did his best to ignore. Nicholas remained stoic, watching his partner with curiosity and a hint of amusement, until he finally caught Liam's arm on his next pass.

Liam froze and met Nicholas's intense stare. It was completely against Angel's formal nature to make physical contact, and the fact that he was touching him at all made Liam almost laugh, totally taken aback.

"Calm down, constable," Nicholas said coolly.

Liam really did laugh this time, shaking off Nicholas's hand. He looked away, sticking his tongue out slightly and pressing the tip to his upper lip, his hands on his hips as he tried to hold himself in check.

"Two years," he said, glancing up at Nicholas as he had at Kels not more than two hours ago. "Two years, and what've we got to show, eh? Is it impossible for you to be friendly? To make conversation? Because Lord knows I've given this dead horse more than its fair share of time to graze. I'm not asking you to move in with me, mate, I'm asking you to call me Liam, and to stop constantly quoting procedure. I read the book! I passed the entrance exam! I've been working with you for TWO YEARS. Even if I hadn't known it, I certainly would by now, even-"

"-Is this about Munsel?" Nicholas cut in, his cold eyes giving a glimmer of emotion as he pushed down what he really meant to ask.

Liam's jaw worked for a moment but nothing came out. His hands shook, and he balled them into fists, a horrible urge to choke Nicholas rising more and more strongly to the surface.

"You fucking pilchard," he growled, letting his left fist make a restrained jab at Nicholas's chest before turning away, embarrassed by his outburst.

Nicholas was stunned. Nobody, nobody had ever struck him in that manner. He'd been cuffed by old ladies, punched by drug addicts, kicked in the shins by small children, and slapped on the ass by drunken teens. This, though, was another officer, his partner, voicing his frustration in the only way he knew that Nicholas would listen. He was angry, to be sure, but the self-control proved something else: That he didn't mean to hurt him.

That…that was new…

Liam was already a block away, though, walking fast in the torrent of traffic filling the popular thoroughfare, making Nicholas jog to catch him. He saw Liam tense slightly as he caught up, but he hung a step behind him, waiting for Liam to address him first, when he felt ready.

"Yes, this is about Munsel," Liam snapped suddenly, turning on his heel with no warning, so that Nicholas crashed into him and stumbled back. On the crowded sidewalk, people were quick to glare, holding back only because the two men were clad in police garb.

Grabbing Nicholas's elbow, Liam drew him out of the flow and onto the stoop of a private business, some sort of law office, that had apparently boarded up their windows for the evening in anticipation of drunken revelry.

"My friends care about me," Liam said, sounding far sappier than he'd hoped, "But you…despite everything we've been through, I don't think you'd wince if I got shot in the head by some sodding grafter."

"S'not true," Nicholas said, furrowing his brow and shaking his head.

"Well, I've never seen any evidence to the contrary," Liam scoffed. "I know fuck-all about you, Nicholas. How would you expect me to know? Your damnable over-adherence to protocol alienates everyone. You didn't even tell me about-"

He stopped, fearing he'd said too much, seeing the realization dawn on Nicholas's face. He felt an urge to run, his legs frozen despite his mind's attempt to move them, sensing something sinister mounting in Nicholas.

"So Munsel told you, did he?" Nicholas said menacingly, biting his lower lip, his limbs twitching with the sort of nervous energy Liam had seen only once before when they'd chased down a psychotic, suspected serial killer with a concealed weapon. "He told you about my uncle?"

"Your uncle's a fucking murderer, so what?" Liam spat, trying to seem calm. "It kind of takes the prize, though, you know? Me stuck with you all this time, working out that case, and then suddenly you're related to the fucking suspect?"

Nicholas froze. Liam was smart, far too smart, but he'd never guess him to put it together so fast. The steadily growing homicidal look in Liam's eyes, though, told Nicholas that now was not the time to be preaching anti-fraternization policies. Now was the time for damage control. Now was the time to pray to God that Liam hadn't resumed his martial arts training as he suspected.

Liam's fists were tangling with the fabric on the front of his coat, balling into fists, and then his body was pressing him back, smashing him against the brick wall behind him, pinning him tightly. The murderous look in Liam's eyes…it really, truly frightened him to the point where he forgot that he'd have to kick his partner's ass later for this manhandling.

"Derek Seward killed my mum," Liam hissed, his body shaking, biting back tears. "Your fucking uncle… That's why Bobbish called you, that's why you took me on, that's why you act like such a cold-hearted bastard, isn't it? You're trying to fix his mistakes, and you think having me about will grant him absolution? You're wrong, dead fucking wrong, mate…"

"That is not true," Nicholas growled, grabbing Liam's wrists and forcing him backward with every ounce of strength in his body. "Yes, my uncle is the one in the file, but I don't think he did it. And yes, I originally accepted your partnership because of the nature of that case. But I didn't bring you on for absolution, and the way I treat everyone, you especially, has nothing to do with it. I don't let people in, Liam, because people are dangerous. People betray you. People let you down. People abandon you. People, as a rule, suck."

It was a rather shocking look into Nicholas's psyche. On top of every other revelation, Liam was struck by the fact that now was possibly the only time Nicholas had let anybody see him in a very, very long time, and he would be a fool to pass that up-

There was sound from the street; several rapid pops followed by a faulty discharge of a firearm. People screamed, panicked, ran in every direction, and looking down on the chaos, the two officers spotted a man fleeing against the flow, casting about, waving something in front of him-

"Gun," Liam breathed, hearing the same word on Nicholas's lips.

In an instant he was on the sidewalk, blood pounding in his ears, only faintly aware of his radio buzzing as he and Nicholas simultaneously called in the incident and impending pursuit: Shots fired, unknown number of wounded, suspect on foot, still in possession, bearing south-west, officers in pursuit.

They were no longer Constables Nicholas Angel and Liam Nash. They were The Law, fueled by adrenaline and pumping out their previous aggression, following the wake their perp made London's human ocean, their bodies flying over the ground faster than either of them had ever run, perfectly in synch, focused, determined, desperate.

Down a back alley, over a dumpster far exceeding size regulations for that part of the city, further and further into the darkness they pursued this nebulous criminal. The racket of the radio kept them tied to the real world, shouting locations into the receiver as they passed landmarks, keeping HQ up to speed as to where this convoluted pursuit was taking them.

They did not consider their own personal safety. Not until they hit a dead end.

Cornered, their perp turned, fixing them with a wild-eyed stare, a thin trail of blood running from his right nostril to his lips, his body twitching angrily.

"I think he's strung out," Nicholas breathed to Liam, who tensed appropriately beside him; druggies were the hardest to wrangle, and this one was probably still armed, as they hadn't seen him discard anything.

As the seconds stretched, they began to move in closer, gauging the crack head's reactions as they closed in. There was a measure of plastic cording running from the man's shoulder, across his chest, and looping back behind him, most likely holding his weapon in place, which meant they weren't dealing with a handgun.

Around them were signs of habitation; an old mattress under a tarp-tent, a pile of broken goods and dirty clothes, dilapidated furniture. There was also a large cache of women's handbags on the mattress, their contents spread out over the filthy surface, meaning this bloke was either their thief, or he had one very odd obsession. Apparently, this was where their man lived, which was disturbing, taking into account how close he was to heavy traffic. Someone in the surrounding buildings probably knew him.

Nicholas reached out wildly, his open hand catching Liam across the chest, holding him back; the muzzle of an AK47 was pointed at them, the perp swinging the weapon around on its makeshift shoulder strap, his fingers fumbling for the trigger, which was at a horrible angle for any sort of accuracy.

"I'll shoot," the man said, his voice quavering wildly.

He was strung out, dangerous, wielding a high-powered rifle, and their backup was still two minutes away at best. They had to stay calm, wait for reinforcements, and keep this crazed drug addict from getting himself in any more trouble than he already was.

"Nobody needs to get hurt here," Liam said gently, holding his hands up defensively in front of himself, shifting his feet. "Let's think about this, alright?"

"Yeah," the perp said slowly, a glazed look in his eyes suddenly, before the gun twitched violently at his side. "Thought about it," he said crisply, before pulling the trigger.

The first shot hit Liam below the clavicle, the second took him in the chest, the third in the side, and the fourth went straight up in the air as Nicholas grabbed the firearm and crushed the crack head against the wall.

His left arm preoccupied with wrestling the weapon out of the man's hands, Nicholas's right fist blasted the man in the face, shattering his nose and knocking him to the ground. The cord around the man's chest snapped, the weight of the Kalashnikov pulling down on Nicholas's left arm, and he raised it a few inches higher to grasp it with both hands, spinning the firearm about and pointing it at the man's head.

"Come on, mate," the man sobbed, trying to slide away on his back, his words almost lost beneath the muddle of broken bone and torn cartilage.

Nicholas hesitated, lowering his aim, trying to hear if Liam was making any sound. A hand suddenly shot up, grabbing at the gun, the crack head wrapping his trembling hands around the muzzle of the gun in an attempt to reclaim it. Nicholas reacted on pure instinct; the last ten shots of the clip unloaded furiously into the man's head, neck and upper torso, barely making a whimper as his life was painfully extinguished.

Shaking from head to foot, Nicholas dropped the weapon and took a step back. He'd killed someone. A drug addict, a violent criminal, but a person. He'd looked into another man's eyes and made a choice to kill him, to extinguish the possibility of justice in a crude show of vigilante-ism. It was true that this man had fired on innocents, but-

And then he remembered Liam.

"Christ, Liam," he choked, spinning on his heel and rushing to his partner's side, dropping to his knees and pulling him up, propping Liam so his back was to Nicholas's chest as they sat on the frigid, blood-soaked cement.

"Nick…am I…dying?" Liam panted, a cold sheen of sweat and severe blood loss making him shiver uncontrollably.

"No, no Liam, no, you're alright," Nicholas murmured in his ear, wrapping his arms around him, feeling the warm dampness of blood seep into his jacket. "You're alright, help's coming, it's okay."

"You've got to find him," Liam said, choking back a weak sob. "Find Seward…For my mum, for me, please Nick, please-"

"We will," Nicholas said forcefully. "We will, both of us, you and me, Liam. We'll let your mum rest in peace, I swear, the two of us."

Liam was silent, his shallow breathing the only sign he was still there. Suddenly, the sound of bells peeled out across the city, and high overhead a shower of beautiful lights rained down on the city; the New Year had come. The sound almost weighed out the distant wail of sirens.

"S'gorgeous," Liam murmured, "Isn't it?"

"Yeah," Nicholas said, tears silently streaming down his face. "Happy New Year, Liam."

This time there was no stirring on Liam's part.

Nicholas imagined what it'd feel like for Liam to laugh right then, how his body would shake gently as the sound rolled off his tongue and reverberated into Nicholas's chest. He thought he knew what it would be like to feel Liam's heart beating against him, to enjoy the warmth of his body pressed to his own in the cold January night, and to have someone with whom to share the dismal days to come.

Instead Liam didn't move, he didn't speak, he didn't even really breath, and Nicholas could swear he felt the life slipping out of him as he held him so desperately.

"Oh God, Liam," Nicholas croaked, pressing his face into Liam's neck, "God, don't leave me, please, I need you here. Please, stay with me, please…"