Pulling into the parking lot of the restaurant, Roger eased the family station wagon into a nearby spot. He was a bit early but noticed that Riggs' black pickup was already parked near the entrance. Stepping into the building, he paused a moment by the hostess station, waiting for his eyes to adjust from the bright sunlight outside. Riggs was sitting in a back booth, and although deep in conversation with an elderly Asian gentleman, he obviously had noticed Roger – a hand shot up as he waved his partner over.

"Hey, Rog," Martin said as Roger approached, "this is Mr. Thao. He and his wife own the place."

Nodding, Roger reached out and shook the man's hand. "Hello, good to meet you."

Mr. Thao returned the handshake along with a slight bow. "Good to meet you too. Enjoy your meal," he said, his voice so heavily accented, Roger could barely make out the words. Turning, he leaned over to Martin, murmuring something softly under his breath which Riggs acknowledged with a nod. Mr. Thao straightened back up, gave them both a smile and quickly left.

Slipping into the booth, Roger watched the older man walk away before directing his attention back on his partner. "What was that about? You know him?"

Riggs gave a shake of his head as he grabbed a spring roll from the platter already resting on the table, then pushed the food over to Roger. "Not exactly." The spring roll disappeared in two bites and the detective grabbed another one. "More like we have a mutual friend."

"Hey, didn't you tell me that I was your only friend?" teased Roger in a mock offended voice.

Dipping the roll into a bowl of sauce, Martin gave a half-smile as he took a bite. "Basically you are… But I do have one or two people pop in from time to time. You're just the only one crazy enough to stick around all the time."

"And to think I used to be normal before I met you," sighed Roger.

"Yeah, I tend to have that effect on people. A few more years, and you won't believe the crazy shit you'll be willing to along with…" Riggs handed the menu over. "I already ordered mine."

Roger snatched it out of his grasp, grumbling under his breath, "A few more years? I think I'm already there." As soon as the waitress left with Roger's order, he turned back to Riggs. "Well, I hope you're having better luck than me. Did McCaskey and Chu have anything for you?"

"They're still sifting through everything and of course, IA is making it as difficult as possible." Riggs didn't bother trying to keep the contempt out of his voice. "HOWEVER, they did find Dunn's prints at the warehouse."

Roger's hand clenched into a triumphant fist. "Yes! Something finally… I mean that is something, right?"

"It's something," Martin said with a shrug. "Not even close enough to get us back on the force, but I'll take whatever I can get right now." He suddenly gave a disgusted shake of his head. "Dunn's completely dropped off the face of the earth. Doesn't seem to be a trace of him anywhere." He paused for a moment as the waitress set a bowl of soup in front of him. Grabbing a spoon, he took a taste and continued. "Mac Simmons is very quietly talking to others at the precinct. Dunn kept to himself, but ya never know – he may have dropped some sort of information that could help us find him."

"Well, Dunn's not the only one that's dropped off the face of the earth," said Roger. "William Evanston is like a ghost these days – sold his business for millions and vanished… Best anyone can tell, they think maybe he's in Europe somewhere. It's a complete dead-end."

Martin looked up from the food. "Hmm… Europe, huh?" His eyes squinted in thought. "Give me everything you have on William Evanston. I'm gonna run it by some contacts, see what comes up."

Roger gave a shake of his head. "Riggs, I already ran his name through every resource the LAPD has."

"Exactly," Riggs said with a smile, "which is why I'm gonna go outside of the department."

"Riggs, what in the hell are we doing here?"

Martin made a quick shushing noise. "I told ya," he muttered in a low voice. "We're here to do a drop-off."

"I KNOW what you told me, but that doesn't really explain anything." Frowning, Roger shoved his hands in the pockets of his suit jacket as he leaned in closer to his partner. "That doesn't explain why I am standing at a bus stop in West Hollywood at 4 in the morning to catch the bus."

"Hey, I told you I'd do it myself but, nooo… you had to insist on coming along." Riggs gave a shrug. "This is where he told me to be." He looked away from Roger, eyes focusing on the street ahead. Taking his baseball cap off, he ran a hand through his unruly curls before shoving it back on.

Roger opened his mouth to say something else, but then abruptly shut it, jumping slightly at the sound of sudden footsteps approaching. Looking over one shoulder, he found himself being eyeballed by one of the local hookers. A tranny, she must have stood 6'7" in her pair of towering gold stilettos and bright purple fur coat. She smiled back at Roger as they made eye contact, her tongue running over her lips. "Hi, cutie-pie," she rumbled in a deep voice.

"Uh, yeah… hello."

She walked in a bit closer, hips sashaying dramatically. "You are one fine strapping fellow," she purred. "My name is Stardust."

Ignoring Martin's chuckles, Roger pulled back his jacket to reveal the shield clipped to his shirt pocket. "And I, Stardust, am a police detective."

The hooker just gave a throaty laugh. "Oh, honey, I know you're a police officer. That's practically stamped on your forehead. I'm just having a little fun, that's all." Turning her attention to Riggs, she gave him a wink. "You should tell your friend to lighten up a little."

"I'm trying," Martin said, winking back. "I'm trying. So… Stardust, isn't it? Been a busy night for ya?"

She gave a shrug of her broad shoulders, frowning slightly. "Eh… so-so." Reaching into her purse, Stardust pulled out a pack of smokes and looking back up saw that Martin was already holding out his lighter for her. "What a gentleman," she murmured, her smile returning. Leaning over, she lit the cigarette with a flutter of her false eyelashes in Martin's direction.

"Excuse me – Riggs, can I talk with you for a minute?" Roger gave a tight smile to the hooker as he grabbed Martin by the forearm, dragging him over to the other side of the bus stop. "Would you please forget about Miss Stardust for a moment and answer my question." Roger frowned. "Now tell me why we are standing out here playing at some sort of spy game?"

Riggs just stared over Roger's shoulder without answering. Gave a nod of his head. "Our ride is here." He snapped his fingers as the bus pulled up. "Give me the papers."

Roger stared back at his partner, but seeing the expression in his eyes, knew it was pointless to argue. Sighing, he reached into the interior pocket of his jacket and pulling out a thick envelope, handed it over.

"Thanks…" A sudden grin broadened Martin's face. "Hey, Rog… you got any money for fare?"

Grumbling under his breath, Roger entered the bus ahead of Martin, paid for both of them and then sat down in the front as Riggs had instructed him to do earlier. The younger detective went past him, not sitting down until he was in the far back of the bus. Shifting slightly in his seat, Roger heaved a groan as his eyes landed on Stardust sitting behind him. "Hi again, Sugar." She wiggled her fingers at him, trying her best to look coy – something that wasn't very easy to do with a 5 o'clock shadow starting to peek through the heavy makeup.

"Uh… hi."

Twisting around more, Roger did his best to keep Martin in his peripheral vision, watching as Riggs did nothing more than stare out the window from his aisle seat. Despite the early hour, the bus began filling up quickly – mainly more whores and junkies but every now and again, the odd business person would board, heading into work at the early hour of the morning. Several times various people tried to take the seat next to Riggs but were quickly turned away by the glare he shot in their direction.

Three stops later, a group boarded, Roger tensing up even more than he already was as he took in the four gangbangers that were part of the new passengers. He watched them carefully as they went to the back, praying fervently to himself that none of them would try to sit by his partner. Luckily, they all took different seats without incident. Sighing under his breath in relief, Roger turned and quickly straightened back up again as he saw that Martin had slid over to the window seat, letting someone sit next to him. The man, like Riggs, had a baseball cap shoved down low and with his head bent downward, Roger couldn't make out any of his face. Damn it… Roger thought. He had been so busy watching as the young punks boarded he had not even noticed the other guy.

Martin continued staring out the window and then at the next stop stood up and headed down the aisle to get off. Roger waited as Martin and another passenger disembarked and then stood up to follow behind them. Before he had a chance to move, a large hand grasped his forearm. "Hey, baby, leaving so soon?"

Nearly growling under his breath, Roger looked down at the still seated hooker. "Yes, this is my stop." He tried unsuccessfully to pull his arm away.

She gripped on even tighter. "Ah, come on, sugar, don't leave so soon…"

Martin was already gone by now and with another jerk, Roger wretched his arm away, just managing to get off the bus before it pulled away, Stardust still calling out to him from behind. Head whipping around, he caught a quick view of Riggs disappearing around a nearby building. He glanced around for a moment, one hand instinctively going up to pat the Smith and Wesson nestled in his shoulder holster, its weight reassuring to him. Roger watched for another moment as the other passenger crossed the street before turning and heading in the direction of his partner. Going around the corner, he saw that Martin was already down at the other end of the building, leaning back, one foot propped up against the wall casually. He gave a nod of his head as Roger approached.

"So? What's going on, Riggs? What happened?"

Martin shrugged. "They've got what you had on William Evanston. We'll see."

"And exactly who is they?"

Riggs just shrugged again. "Y' know… they… them." Pushing himself off the wall, Martin clapped his partner on the back. "No more questions right now. I need coffee… It is too damn early in the morning. Let's go."

"You shouldn't have brought your partner along on the bus, Riggs."

Martin's grip on the phone's receiver tightened slightly. "Yeah, I know… Look, he can be trusted."

The man on the other end of the line laughed, but there was no humor behind it. "You know good and well that trust has nothing to do with anything." His voice lowered. "Let's do this the proper way, shall we? After all, there is no need for us to be enemies here, Riggs. I imagine we both have enough of those already."

Shrugging out of his jacket, Riggs sat down on the couch. "No doubt." He rubbed a hand across his forehead. "Don't worry, I have everything under control with my partner."

"Of that, I am quite certain but all the same, you have to make sure he's not around next time. We can't afford the risk. Come on, Riggs… you know how these things go down."

"I do."

"Okay, I'll be in touch soon."

"Alright." Disconnecting the phone call, Riggs tossed the receiver aside and pulled off his boots. He leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees, both hands coming up to massage his temples. Okay, he needed to clear his head and think. The sun was getting close to setting - time for a good run on the beach – it did the trick nearly every time. Twisting around, he stepped over the back of the couch to the sleeping platform behind it; searched through the jumbled blankets until he found a pair of sweats. He changed quickly into the pants and running shoes, then grabbing the shoulder holster that hung near the door, strapped it on. About the only time he ever used it was for jogging, since the loose sweats wouldn't secure the gun. Years of undercover work had ingrained the habit of carrying his piece mexican style and now he couldn't stand using a holster. Of course, he could always go jogging without a weapon, but that thought simply didn't cross his mind. Riggs never went anywhere without it, including going to sleep. Unlike Roger, who put his weapon away when he wasn't working, Martin always had his with him – he was never off-duty. Slipping the gun in place, he threw on a light windbreaker, whistled for Sam and they headed out the door.

Martin had just gotten out of the shower and was pulling on a pair of jeans when the sound of tires crunching along the rocks outside brought him to full alert. Sam sat up from where he had been sleeping on the couch, a low growl rumbling in his throat. Grabbing his Beretta from the kitchen counter, Riggs went over to one of the trailer's small windows and peered through the blinds. "Damn it," he muttered. Of all the fucking luck… Sighing deeply, he let the slats of the blind snap shut as he turned to his still growling dog. "It's okay, Sam. It's just Roger." His partner rarely made the long drive out to his trailer and he was surprised to find him there this morning. And of all mornings to show up… but then sometimes that was just the way Martin's luck went. Now the problem was – how to get rid of him.

Tucking the gun into the waistband of his jeans, he drew back the curtain and opened the sliding glass door just as Roger reached the steps. "Morning, Rog. What in the world are you doing all the way out here?"

Roger squinted up at him. "Are you kidding? I haven't heard anything from you in three days! What's going on?"

Martin didn't answer – just gestured for Roger to come in as he turned back into the trailer. He walked to the small kitchen, leaning against the counter as Roger entered behind him. Stepping over to the couch, the older detective bent down, giving Sam a scratch behind the ears, the animal's tail thumping in appreciation. Still petting the dog, Roger used his other hand to move the damp bath towel that had been thrown on the couch; sighed quietly under his breath as he saw the jumbled stack of books and papers underneath. And once again he found himself wondering how in the hell Riggs could live this way – or why. After being shot, Riggs had spent part of his rehabilitation living at the Murtaugh's house. When he was finally able to move back out on his own, Roger had tried to convince the man to at least upgrade to an apartment and hopefully something closer in, but his arguments were met with a stony glare. Digging in his heels, Riggs had been adamant about doing nothing other than replacing his camper trailer with another one. And not only that – he had decided on a new spot even further out and more isolated than his previous place. Roger knew it was useless to try and figure out the quirks of his eccentric partner, but he couldn't help trying – even though the only thing he ever accomplished was getting a headache. Setting the towel back down, Roger decided to perch on the edge of the armrest instead. "Ya got any coffee in this... place?"

"Out of regular right now but I've got instant." Riggs filled the kettle with some water and sat it on the burner. Searching through the cabinet next to the stove for a minute, he finally pulled out the jar of coffee, sat it down on the counter and then turned to look back at Roger. Held his hand out. "Hey, toss me that white t-shirt from the back of the couch."

Reaching over, Roger grabbed the tee and threw it to Martin with a scowl. "Are you gonna answer my question?"

Riggs just gave a shake of his head as he wiggled into the shirt. "I told ya, I'd call when I heard something, Rog."

"Okay, fine… But you still haven't explained to me what we were doing the other day. Who did you give those papers to?"

"What difference does it make? Let's just see what information comes back." Martin turned around at the sudden whistling of the kettle. Rinsing out a couple of mugs that were in the sink, he made the coffee and handed a cup to Roger.

Grabbing the mug, Roger cradled it in his hands for a long moment before taking a sip. When he looked back up, his expression was still irritated. "I'm not leaving this trailer until I get some answers. We're partners, and you are supposed to trust me!"

"You know I do, Roger. Just remember that works both ways." His mouth setting into a thin line, Martin snatched the button-down shirt that had been hanging over the back of the nearby chair and quickly put it on. Muttering under his breath, he rubbed his hands over his face as he worked to calm himself back down. He took a big swig of coffee then sat there for a minute, his thumb running across the chipped edge of the mug. "Why do you have to question me about this?" he asked.

"I…" began Roger before stopping to consider his answer. He shrugged. "Of course I trust you. It's just that sometimes…" his voice trailed off.

"Sometimes what?"

"Sometimes you don't … approach things in the best way."

"I do whatever it takes."

"Damn it, Riggs! The end doesn't always justify the means! We are walking a very fine line here. Shit, I want to get back on the force and if you're doing something …" Roger frowned. "Who are these people you're dealing with? Is it all legal?"

"Legal?" One of Martin's eyebrows arched upward in amusement. "Well, I guess that depends on who you're talking to."

Leaning forward, Roger cradled his head in his hands. "Ahh, Christ, Riggs…"

A slight smile flickered across Martin's face. Finishing his coffee, he put the mug back in the sink. "Quit worrying so much – you should work on reducing your stress levels."

"My stress levels were fine before I met you."

"Well sure, back then the most exciting thing you had going on was trying to figure out what Trish had in the oven."

Despite his grumpy mood, even Roger had to laugh. "Yeah, but you gotta admit, some days that does take serious detective work."

"Very true," agreed Riggs. Glancing at his watch, he ran a hand through his still wet hair. "Sorry to cut this short but I've got errands."

"Errands?" Roger frowned. "What kind of errands could you possibly have?"

Pushing himself off from where he had been leaning on the kitchen counter, Riggs stepped over to his partner. "Errands," he repeated as he took the still half full coffee cup out of Roger's hands. "I do have errands that I do, y' know. It's laundry time."

Roger's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Trish does your laundry."

"Hey, only my shirts!" Riggs looked insulted. "I still go to the laundromat. And obviously I need to get more coffee… and I'm sure I'm outta beer … oh, and a flyswatter," he added with a snap of his fingers. "Damn fly was buzzing around here last night, I couldn't sleep at all." Which was actually the truth – in fact, Riggs had been sorely tempted at one point to try and shoot the fucker with his Beretta.

Roger gave a hard shake of his head as he watched Martin set the other cup in the sink. "This has to do with what we did the other day, doesn't it?"

"Don't worry about it."

Still frowning, Roger rose up from his spot on the couch's arm rest. "Fine. You'll call me, right?"

"Yea, yea, I'll be in touch." He practically pushed his reluctant partner out the trailer. "Shit," he muttered, as he leaned against the closed door, his breath escaping in a long heavy sigh. Why did it have to be so damn difficult…? The sound of Roger's car starting roused him out of his thoughts and he turned around to watch as Roger backed up his vehicle and then headed out for the main road. Martin glanced at his watch again. Okay, just enough time to make it and be a little early – at least it was enough time when you drove like he did.

Sitting on the couch, he quickly pulled on his boots, grabbed a couple extra clips from the nearby table and headed out the door.

After having been on the road for 20 minutes, Martin could no longer ignore the odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. Adjusting the rear-view mirror, he stared back at the traffic behind him. Certainly nothing seemed amiss, but he continued to scan the vehicles with sharp eyes. Frowning to himself, he switched lanes; glanced behind him. Although once again, everything looked fine, he knew better – he was being tailed.

Taking his attention back to the road ahead of him, he passed the car in front of him and then moved back over to the other lane. Staying at the speed limit, Riggs continued down the road for another couple of miles, before making a sudden right-hand turn. The road he had turned on headed far up into the nearby hills and shifting gears, Riggs floored the pickup truck, shoving the gas pedal all the way down. The big engine roared to life and shot up the steep incline, leaving the other vehicles off into the distance. He continued to look out the rear-view mirror at any cars turning onto the canyon road behind him. Reaching the top of the hill, he had a good vantage point to watch the other vehicles coming up behind him without his view being obstructed. A glare filled with both anger and frustration clouded his eyes as Roger's vehicle made the right hand turn off the main road. Martin was being tailed all right … by his own partner.

The frown slid away as he shrugged to himself, it certainly could have been worse. At least Roger was one of the good guys and although Martin understood why he was doing it, he still needed to get rid of him. Luckily, this was Martin's home field and he knew it like the back of his hand, unlike Roger. Continuing up the road, Martin glanced around then smiled to himself. The road he was driving on began to slope back down a bit with a sharp gradient on the left-hand side where the road had cut into the hill, leading up to another road at the top. Martin looked over, eyes narrowed in thought. It wouldn't be an easy maneuver, but Martin had faith in his pickup.

With a wide grin, he punched the engine again, jerking the wheel hard to the left. The car directly behind him swerved, no doubt startled by the big truck's sudden off-road adventure. Tires spinning wildly, the truck crawled up the steep slope, rocks and dirt spitting out behind him. Martin nearly lost control a couple of times but managed to make it up to the top and eased onto the side of the road, cars honking furiously at him. Looking back down below, he saw that Roger had pulled the station wagon over. There was no way he would be able to get his car up the embankment and by the time he doubled back, he knew Riggs would be long gone. He frowned in defeat as his eyes connected with Martin's. Smiling, Riggs gave his partner a big wave and pulled onto the road and drove away.