Joe Hardy hated Sundays. Joe Hardy hated working on Sundays even more. He wasn't sure if it was Murphy's Law, or just the bane of his existence, but it seemed to him, if he had to work on a Sunday, he also had stacks of paperwork to do. Generally, this was because he'd slacked off most of the week, and the paperwork was due on Monday.

The only thing that satisfied Joe on a Sunday was the knowledge that his partner, Geoff, was generally further behind than he was.

"How do you spell, 'accountable'?" Geoff asked from the next desk over. He was hunched over his keyboard, staring at the screen like an old man. Joe rattled the correct spelling off for him, and then turned to watch as Geoff pecked the letters into place. It was a shame most of their programs didn't include spell check. At least once a week, they got a lecture about using proper grammar and spelling. It hadn't helped much. The lawyers probably thought all cops were illiterate.

Geoff finished his sentence, and then leaned back for a brake as if he were working on something extremely difficult. Seeing Joe, he gruffly questioned, "What are you looking at?"

"You." Joe smirked.

"Ya, well…look somewhere else!" Geoff waved him away in annoyance.

Just then, Joe caught something out of the corner of his eye. Looking across the bullpen, he saw Henry Stewart, one of the guys from Internal Affairs, going into the Chief's office. "Hey, Geoff." His partner looked up and Joe nodded his head towards the office.

"Umm." Geoff mused. "Know of anything that's gone down lately?"

It was a somber issue whenever IA got involved. "There was that bag of weed that went missing from evidence a few months ago."

Geoff shook his head. "The weed was one of the mechanic's. I've heard the WPP lost one of their guys here in New York, maybe it's about that."

Whatever it was, the paperwork was on hold until further notice. They weren't the only ones to have noticed Stewart's entrance.

After twenty minutes the Chief's door opened and he stepped outside. The Chief's face was not a happy one. He looked over the watching cluster of people with thin lips, and when his eyes got to Joe, a shiver ran through Joe's body. "Joe," he called out. "Can you come to my office?"

Joe frowned, but he stood up. Geoff stood up as well. "Joe?" The simple question said it all.

Shaking his head, Joe emphatically stated, "I have no idea, Geoff."

That was good enough for his partner. Together they walked through the pen to the Chief. "Just Joe," the Chief stated, but Geoff stubbornly shook his head.

"No, sir. I'll behave, but we're partners."

The Chief sighed, and then motioned them inside.

Stewart was leaning against the desk, his face as disturbed as the Chief's. Joe had never disliked the man. One couldn't be IA without being hard, and the guy had never been impolite. But then, Joe had never really had to deal with IA much, either.

The Chief motioned them to take seats, and then made himself comfortable behind his desk. Joe looked at the Chief, but then turned his attention to Stewart. The Chief was there to make sure nothing improper would happen, but it would be Stewart who would conduct the 'interrogation.'

"Officer Joe Hardy-"

Joe cut him off. "You don't have to be so formal. We know each other, might as well admit it."

Stewart nodded, and began again. "Joe, when was the last time you were at the impound?"

"Last week, when we were dealing with the attempted car theft turned homicide." Perhaps his answer was too quick, because Stewart looked over at Geoff, as if he were expecting to see some sort of reaction to the contrary. Geoff sat with his legs crossed and his face set in stone. He was there to support Joe, and nothing else.

Looking back at Joe, Stewart then asked, "Where were you Friday morning?"

Joe huffed, remarking sourly, "I was sleeping off a hangover."

At that, Geoff put his two cents in. "The boys and I got him drunk. Seriously drunk. Half of the department was there if you need collaboration."

"And yesterday?" Stewart questioned.

Joe sighed. "I was at my parents most of the day, home for the rest. You can call them if you want to."

Stewart's lips thinned, but then some of the hardness left his face, replaced instead by a small look of regret. He reached behind him and grabbed a folded piece of paper from the desk. Joe had an idea about what it was even before it was handed to him.

"It's a warrant to search your apartment."

Geoff was half out of his chair, exclaiming, "What? Why?!"

Joe didn't say anything, but angrily read the warrant, confirming its validity with a calculating eye.

The Chief glared at Geoff until he sat back down, and then Stewart told them. "A car was stolen Friday morning from the impound lot. Yesterday, the vehicle was used in a robbery, in Pennsylvania. A witness to the robbery gave your description."

"What?" Joe exclaimed, barely holding in his indignation. "Are you fricking kidding me?"

The regret only depended as Stewart added. "Because it crossed state lines the Feds are involved. In fact, they're the ones who came to me about the matter."

"They're here now?" Joe asked.

"They're searching your apartment as we speak."

x.x.x.x.x

Author's Note: The second half of this scene will have to be tomorrow's bit. This whole working 60 plus hours a week doesn't leave much time for anything else. .