A/N - sorry for the lack of updates on everything recently. I've been a bit under the weather but am feeling better now. Anyway, this has always been my head canon for Mike and Christine and I decided that I would share. Everything described herein should all be taken with a pound of salt. Enjoy! xoxo - tmtcltb

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Location: Chicago, Illinois

Date: Twenty Years before the Nathan James left for the Arctic

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Mike limped towards his sergeant, who was watching him with a grim expression, arms crossed over his chest. "Officer Slattery. You are aware of department rules regarding engaging suspects without waiting for backup, aren't you?"

Damn. Mike had been hoping that the fact he interrupted an assault, possibly even prevented a murder, would be enough to keep him out of the hot seat. Apparently it wasn't. Not that he blamed Rodriguez, not really. With both crime and tension between the police and the local population at an all-time high, one small misstep could set off a firestorm and then they would all be in for it. Still, Mike wasn't going to apologize for saving someone's life, even if doing so did violate the rules. The victim was no more than a kid, clearly targeted because he was leaving a gay bar. Mike figured that the baseball bat he took to the knee would have done a lot more damage to the kid's head.

He realized that Rodriguez was waiting for an answer. "Yes, sir. I am aware of department protocol."

"And I assume that you will be following those protocols in the future?" Rodriguez pressed. When Mike hesitated, the man continued. "Mike, I don't doubt that your heart is in the right place but the rules exist for a reason. They protect you, but they also protect every person you pass on the street. Breaking the rules is dangerous. I don't want you to learn that lesson the hard way."

Mike shifted, a sharp pain from his knee making him wince. Hoping that Rodriquez wasn't gearing up for a long lecture. "Understood, sir."

"Now get your ass to the hospital and get checked out. You're on desk duty for two weeks," Rodriguez added when Mike turned to limp towards the door. He lifted a hand to show that he heard, but didn't stop. Needing to get out of here before he lost it and said something that he regretted.

Outside, Scotty waited for him. Given that Scotty was a rail-thin Irishman with a shock of red hair, Mike had always found the nickname amusing. He had been paired with Scotty, a twenty-year veteran of the force, a year ago and, while their partnership generally worked, there were times when he found Scotty's cavalier attitude towards their job irksome. Take tonight. If Scotty hadn't been dawdling behind at the corner store, Mike would never have been faced with the dilemma of violating the regulations and getting benched, or watching while a kid potentially got killed.

Scotty stood. "You want a ride to the hospital?"

Figuring that this was Scotty's version of a peace offering, Mike nodded. "Thanks. Not sure I could make it there on my own steam."

They drove the first four blocks in silence, before Scotty spoke. "Did I ever tell you about Mikey?"

Since just about every other guy in the department was a Mike or Michael or Mickey, usually differentiated only by their last names, that wasn't much to go on. "Which one?"

"O'Connor."

Well, damn. That name Mike knew. Not because of Scotty, but because there was a picture of the guy on the honor wall near the Captain's office.

"I know who he is," he replied grimly.

"Mikey was my partner. We worked together for about ten years. You remind me of him," Scotty said, glancing towards Mike. "Earnest."

Aware that the word was not a compliment, Mike merely grunted.

"We were responding to a domestic call. I was driving. Dispatch was still relaying information when we arrived but Mikey didn't wait. He went right for the house." Scotty paused. "Got about three steps from the car before the shotgun took him out."

Despite knowing what was coming, Mike felt the punch to the gut anyway. "Damn."

"Mikey's dead because he screwed up," Scotty said bluntly. "He broke the rules, didn't wait for the intel, and he paid the price."

Shocked, Mike couldn't help the instant protest. "Not really fair to blame a dead guy who can't talk back."

"Which is why I usually hold my tongue. But truth is, had Mikey waited, we would have learned that the guy owned an arsenal and backup was less than a minute away. And Mikey wasn't the only one who got hurt that night. If we all hadn't been so busy tending to Mikey, we might have saved the woman that made the initial call." Scotty pulled into the hospital parking lot. "Tonight you got lucky, Mike. But who do you think would have been the priority if that bat hit your head and we had to call two ambulances out to the scene? What happens to that kid then?" Scotty waited until Mike had opened the door and climbed out. "What you did tonight - that shit will get you killed. And I don't need another dead partner."

Mike watched as his, most likely former, partner drove away before turning and trudging into the ER. After putting in his name at the desk, Mike was immediately taken back to an examination room. He felt a twinge of guilt as he walked past the rows of hard plastic chairs where people sat waiting, holding crying children or bent over buckets, the stomach flu currently running rampant through the city. He was in the room for less than ten minutes before a woman arrived. Tall and slim, with eyes so brown that they were almost black, and a few chestnut strands of chestnut hair scaping her prim bun.

"Name?" she asked crisply.

"Michael Slattery, thirty-two, O negative," Mike replied. "You?"

The stern lips twitched slightly. "Christine Stewart. But I only give my blood type to the blood bank and men who buy me dinner."

"Do pretzels from the vending machine count?" Mike asked.

"No." This time he got a real smile. She glanced down at her notepad. "I see here that you ran into a bat multiple times this evening, Officer Slattery. What hurts?"

"Everything," Mike answered, honestly. "But I'm only here because of my knee. I'm guessing a sprain but better safe than sorry. And it's just Mike."

"We'll get x-rays and an MRI," Christine replied, marking her chart. "Let me get a blood pressure and temperature."

Stripping off his shirt, Mike sat forward. "Hey, by chance did a young guy come here earlier? From Sixth and Harroway? Assault with a bat?"

"I can't discuss any of my patients," Christine answered, but her hesitation was enough to answer Mike's question. The kid was here. He thought about what Scotty said, about how the woman Mikey was so eager to save died at the scene. Imagining how Scotty must have felt learning that he lost both his partner and the victim. Imagining how he would feel right now if it was Scotty, rather than Mike, sitting in the emergency room.

"I know, I know," Mike replied.

"If you did see him, what would you want to say?" Christine asked, her eyes everywhere except his face.

Make hesitated. Realizing only after she asked the question that he didn't know.

"Nothing really," he admitted. "Guess I just want to make sure that the kid is okay. Apparently he just moved here from Wisconsin. Only been in the city about six weeks. I wouldn't want him to think we're all like those asshol...I mean jerks."

Christine's lips twitched as she pulled the blood pressure cuff off. "If I happen to see someone who matches that description, I'll let him know that you asked after him."

"Thanks." Mike watched her make some notes. "So, am I allowed to ask for your phone number, Nurse Stewart?"

Christine moved towards the door before pausing. "Think you'll need more late night emergency care?"

"Actually, I was hoping to take you to dinner," Mike replied."

Christine studied him, silently, before she opened the door. "You're a cop. I'm sure that you can figure it out."

After she left, Mike laid back on the cot, his smile growing. He might be in trouble with Rodriquez and in the market for a new partner, but Mike had a feeling that fate had just done him a solid. And he planned to get to know Miss Christine Stewart much, much better.