Hi, lovely people! Thanks so much for reading along. It makes my day every time. It's been a long time since I've loved something enough to write a long fic like this. :) Thanks (as always) for tagging along as I play in this awesome sandbox.

P.S. A little public service announcement. Months ago I asked Harvey to start talking to me. ... A word of warning: If you ever ask Harvey Bullock to start talking to you, do so AT YOUR OWN RISK. Once he starts, he doesn't stop. This means more writing for you. Less sleep - and no time spent on any other project - for me.

TheOneder5: Thanks for the lurve and the feedback always. Also I think you may be my spirit animal. ;)

ladylampetia: I prefer Harvey's POV, though sometimes I let Madeline run amok with her therapy thoughts that are either surprisingly perceptive … or coma-inducing. Keep a sharp eye. I'm sure I'll roll the dice on that one again soon.

l1ttlebutf1erce: Watch this space. More Fish Mooney is rolling off the assembly line.

(x)

6 Years Prior

Harvey groaned as he eased himself down into one of the wooden chairs opposite his Captain's desk. Only a moment or two passed before Johnson joined him, collapsing into the seat next to him. They sat together in silence, while behind them the general noises of police officers talking, arrested men and women protesting, the television blaring the latest news story, and phones ringing unanswered filtered through the open door of her office.

He glanced over at the kid. "How's your face?"

Johnson touched his chin and winced. "Fucker got me good."

Harvey took an inventory of his own injuries. That afternoon he met not one but two bullets that almost had his name on them. The first cut across his left shoulder, and the other grazed him in the right side just above his waistline. Thankfully, both surface wounds were currently numb from the anesthetic the EMT shot into him before she stitched him up. His forehead still throbbed a fierce drumbeat, had since he took that solid punch to the side of the head. Lucky for him all he needed were a couple butterfly closures for the open wound on his temple. Johnson escaped with only minor cuts and scrapes aside from the black and blue swollen mess beneath his chin.

His partner looked to the side in thought. "I like how you took down that guy with the face tattoo."

"Right hook to the solar plexus." Harvey twisted the cap off his flask and took a long drink. "Gets the job done."

When Harvey offered him the flask, Johnson murmured 'hell yeah' and accepted it. "When I saw that lumberjack dude drag that pickax out of the trunk…"

Harvey nodded sagely. "When mining tools enter the dance floor that always amps up the tempo of the meringue."

Captain Sarah Essen breezed through the open doorway back into her office and sat down behind her desk. "Good work today, gentlemen."

Harvey said, "Always a pleasure doin' business."

Johnson took another swig, brought down the flask, and said, "We found a whole lotta contraband in their work room. Lotta drugs, guns, and shit."

Harvey shared a lightning fast glance with Essen as they listened to the kid ramble. He got the feeling Johnson meant to sound seasoned and experienced, but he only got as far as sounding young and sure of himself.

Johnson swallowed down another gulp of booze. "They cooked up enough material to make a few decent time bombs while they were at it."

Harvey said, "Everybody's got a fetish. Theirs is a little more on the mushroom cloud side of things."

"We totally nailed them," Johnson declared, not even trying to hide his pride. He looked at the Captain. "Could have been pretty bad if we hadn't."

Harvey said, "Too bad they won't get to broaden those criminal horizons. Outside a jail cell anyway."

Essen kept things simple. "You got your perpetrators. That's what matters."

Harvey watched her carefully for a moment, noticing the way that she dialed down their flow of speculation. He grabbed up the flask from Johnson and tipped it back until the last drops were gone.

That was when he heard a familiar voice behind him. "What happened to you two?"

Harvey and Johnson turned together to see Madeline standing in the doorway. She wore the dark green "power-look" business outfit that always made him think dirty thoughts. It hugged her curves nicely and only further amplified her general 'I'll kick your ass if you step out of line' attitude. But it wasn't only that. Something about a redhead in green set off his bells and whistles in a welcome way.

He was thinking of telling her that she looked hotter than an East End Rolex, but then as he moved his eyes up to her expression, he decided that might not be the best idea.

(x)

Madeline focused in solely on Harvey, and as soon as she saw the cuts on his face, she felt her stomach drop. She stepped forward and gingerly touched the side of Harvey's head. Her voice held deep worry. "Are you okay?"

Harvey said, "I was fightin' Johnson for the last Oreo."

Johnson added, "I told him. I called it first."

She shot them both a condescending stare and refused to play along. "All right, you both need to dial it down. I'm legitimately concerned over here."

Essen spoke up. "No need to be. They became involved in some exciting cop versus crook heroics, but it wasn't anything they couldn't handle. They even managed to close a case while they were at it."

So the criminals responsible were no longer on the streets. They were in her prison, or headed there. The information caused her to physically relax, but only by a measure or two. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't glad to hear it. Which case got closed?"

Johnson said, "Another one with the Russians." He jerked a thumb at Harvey. "They don't like him."

Madeline watched his offhand comment get Harvey's dander up, and he shot Johnson a death glare.

It took the kid a moment to notice. He flinched once he caught on. "What? They don't."

Madeline wanted to stay emphatically concerned, maybe even a little angry, but found both feelings slipping away despite her best efforts. She stood up straight and clicked her tongue as she affectionately ruffled Harvey's head of hair. "Well, that's just because they haven't gotten to know him yet."

"Once they do, they better watch out." Johnson laughed at his own joke before he said it out loud. "They're gonna catch feelings."

Madeline crossed her arms. "Are you…" She took a good look at Johnson. "Are you drunk again?"

He swiftly said, "Are you changing your name to Judgey Buzzkillington again?"

Harvey glanced up at her and offered, "Might have given him a couple shots."

She smirked at his partner. "Lightweight."

Johnson stared forward away from her, and he sang out softly, "Buffalo Soldier… Dreadlock rasta."

Madeline looked at him strangely and then her mouth fell open in a silent gasp.

Harvey snorted at his partner's antics.

Johnson started tapping his foot to the beat. "There was a Buffalo soldier. In the heart of America."

Madeline felt her cheeks turning a ripe ruse of red, and Essen arched an eyebrow in question at the three of them.

Harvey sat back before relaying the story. "These two tagged along while I got my haircut on Luther Street." He motioned to Johnson. "Tweedle Dum…" Then he pointed to Madeline. "...let Tweedle Dee over here eat a 'baked' brownie."

Despite his partner calling open season on verbal harassment, Madeline relented, "It's not the kid's fault. I was hungry and… had never been to Kushman's Kutz."

Johnson snickered, doing an awful job of holding back his laughter. "She wouldn't stop laughing at something she overheard the barber say. She kept saying, 'He said the stripper's tits were like a pair of Christmas socks.' But that wasn't even what she found funny. She said, 'It's Christmas -stockings-. Not socks.'"

Then that started Harvey in, too.

Behind them, Madeline rolled her eyes. "It was not funny."

Harvey leaned in and said to Essen, "It was pretty funny."

Essen shared a sympathetic stare with Madeline. "Such are the hazards of getting your haircut in the 'hood."

Harvey said, "It livened up our Friday." He nudged Madeline with his elbow. "You think I can eat? You should've seen munchies over here."

She nodded reluctantly, as the information happened to be accurate. "I ate six pancakes."

"Seven," Harvey corrected.

Madeline said, "And an entire jumbo bag of jelly beans. I don't even like jelly beans." Laughter shook out of Essen's shoulders, which only made Harvey and Johnson laugh harder. As she watched the three of them, she couldn't help but feel that their laughter sounded a little unhealthy. They looked an awful lot like three people who had just narrowly avoided a car crash. She wondered just how dangerous the situation they downplayed had actually been, and then she finished with, "My stomach still isn't right."

Essen said, "Steer clear of little Harlem next time and you ought to be fine."

Madeline frowned and shook her head as she took a closer look at the fresh bruises and cuts on Harvey's face. "How long is it gonna take for these to clear up?"

Johnson said, "I hear it helps if you kiss it and make it better."

She ignored the comment and looked to their Captain. "All right, I hate to break up the intelligent discourse, but I didn't just come here just for the yucks…" She held out a crisp manila file folder to her.

Essen blinked and accepted it. She perused the paperwork inside. "That fast, huh?"

"Well…" Madeline opened up her hands. "I do get more and more experience with these types every day."

Harvey asked, "Wassat all about?"

She answered, "Profile. Or the best profile I could manage with what information we've got."

"I appreciate it," Essen said, setting the folder down on her desk. "I'll have a check printed up for you by tomorrow."

Madeline waved the idea away. "Just give these two chuckleheads a hard time whenever you can and we oughtta be straight."

A smirk inched onto her face. "I already do that."

Madeline shrugged, unworried. "We'll figure something out." She glanced over Harvey's injuries once more, and when she looked down, she noticed a deep, dark stain of dried blood on the side of his shirt. Her breath came to a dead stop in her throat, and unwelcome images and thoughts crowded up her mind. She swallowed and reminded herself to breathe while upset words stuck in her throat. She needed to speak them aloud and soon, but she also knew this wasn't the time or place. As such, Madeline didn't to press the issue, and instead she said, "All right. I'll get out of here. Let you guys wrap up."

Johnson grinned. "You ganga get going?"

She looked to Johnson. "Maybe your IQ should smoke some weed. Then it would be higher." Johnson muttered something about how she was a lot more fun when she had the chronic in her system, and then she said to Harvey, "I'll see you later?"

He said, "I'll bring the pie."

When Madeline walked back down the stairs, she could still hear Johnson singing. "Woy, yoy, yoy. Woy, yoy, yoy, yoy…"

(x)

Johnson sang himself downstairs and Harvey stood up carefully from the chair. He pressed his lips together tightly so he wouldn't audibly wince when he got to his feet. Before he left, he said to Essen, "You know the three members of the crew we picked up… They're just lower management. The fish head they're rotting from is Dimitri Codmolov."

Essen didn't look astounded by the observation. She only said, "Such is the nature of the beast."

Harvey heard her telling him to back off without her having to spell it out in bold letters. He decided it was in his best interest to change the subject and nodded to her desk. "So whose profile you got there?"

Essen broke open the folder. "One Victor Zsasz. Started working for Falcone a few months back."

"You lookin' to bring him in?"

"If I only wanted to do that, I wouldn't need a profile on him," she said. "I need us to be aware of his operating system before our paths eventually cross."

He began to turn away, when Essen called to him. "Hey, Harvey. Johnson understands the protocol." The way she said it made it sound more like a question than a statement. "The way things work around here."

Harvey answered with a shrug. "Monkey see, monkey do."

He'd hoped that might clear things up, but he still saw that hint of uncertainty that remained in her stare. As he left and headed back downstairs, Harvey gently touched the side of his head. Or maybe he was seeing things. That might be something he'd need to reconsider after fully recovering from his most recent head injury.

Harvey stopped by his desk and prepared to hit the 'ole dusty trail, when one of the rookies walked up to him. "Detective Bullock?"

He said dismissively, "If it's paperwork, give it to Pickering."

The young female officer held out a smooth, cream-colored envelope. "Someone dropped this off specifically for you."

Harvey ripped open the envelope and lifted up a small, crisp piece of card stock. In neat handwriting the paper read:

'I will burn you.'

Harvey frowned as the words drew a cold line up his back. He chased after the rookie and gently grabbed her arm. "Hey, did you see who dropped this off?" Within a short period of time, the officer recognized the face of the courier from a photo at the bottom of their notice board. One of the Russian Mob's errand boys.

Harvey left the precinct an hour later, stopped by the diner to pick up two slices of blackberry peach pie, and spent the night at Madeline's place. That night in her bedroom, he watched sleep descend upon her easily while he experienced the opposite. He laid on his back in the dark, the turbines of his mind revving up instead of powering down. At some point he must have drifted off, because he woke before the sun rose. Still thinking about how he'd put the newest death threat from Dimitri Codmolov off to the side of his desk instead of filing it away with all the others.