"You are a very suspicious person, do you know that?" Jim flashed Pete a cheeky grin.

"Name me a cop who isn't?" Pete paused long enough to take another bite out of the ranch burger Jim brought him; washing it down with his chocolate shake. "You still haven't answered my question. What's the real reason that you brought me all this food? And don't tell me there isn't one, besides Mrs. O'Brian's phone call." Pete did his best to cross his arms over his chest; giving Jim a look that said he would wait it out until Jim gave in.

"Larry and I…we…wanted to thank you for your help with his little problem."

"Huh?" Did Jim honestly think Pete had any influence in what happened to Kasak? He had already told Jim that he wouldn't interfere with the Captain's decision.

"I know that Captain Moore talked to you."

"How do you know that? Are you following him or spying on me?" Pete shook his head and chuckled; imaging Jim's network of spies.

"Wells saw him heading towards your room." Jim wisely kept to himself Wells' comment about Pete being the "Captain's Pet". He had no idea how many times Captain Moore visited his partner, but he did tell Wells' to knock it off. In addition, he reminded Wells, and anyone within earshot who might wonder about Ed's comment, that Moore had been Pete's training officer. Jim wasn't so much worried about the veterans but the younger guys wouldn't necessary know that fact. Everyone, however, knew that kind of a bond never truly goes away.

"Figures it would be him." Pete down the bowl of chili he was about to eating; he wanted Jim to understand. "The captain was here, but I didn't lobby on Kasak's behalf."

"You didn't talk about it at all?" Jim couldn't imagine that the Captain Moore wouldn't bring up the subject.

"He mentioned it, along with other things including the sergeant's exam." He dangled that bit about the exam in front of Jim; the mention of it tended to distract the younger officer. Pete really didn't want to get into the issue of Kasak's punishment.

"What did he say and what did you say?" Drat, Jim wasn't going for the bait.

"I didn't have a stenographer in the room. Geesh, Jim." Pete's attempt to glare his partner into dropping it failed. He hated to admit it, but Jim was now mostly immune to visual threats. Gone were the days when he could make Jim cower by even the hint of a glare.

"But he asked you about it, right? He did exactly what you said he would." Jim closed the distance between him and Pete. "Are you saying it's a coincidence?"

"Fine, he asked me what I thought the punishment should be and I told him. Are you happy Now?" Pete used his right hand to rub his forehead; Jim was giving him a headache. What had he told Moore that first night he rode with Jim? "He talks too much when he shouldn't and not enough when he should." Yeah, that was it; Jim hasn't changed much.

"Then why did you say you didn't intervene on Larry's behalf when you did?" Jim's voice was thick with annoyance.

"Look. He asked, I answered. Then I asked him why he was asking me what to do when it was the same thing he would do without my input." Pete let out a loud sigh and went back to the chili that was rapidly cooling down.

"What did he say?" Jim was sticking to the subject harder than the leeches Pete used to get on his legs while swimming in the river behind his grandparents' house. Pete took his time answering; suddenly the chili needed his full attention.

"Curiosity."

"Curiosity, what does that mean?" Jim sat down on the bottom part of the bed, causing Pete to shift a little to the left. Not that Pete minded; it was easier to talk to someone in front of him than constantly having to turn towards the right to see those that came to visit him.

"I don't know, but I could tell by the sound of his voice that Val Moore was not going to explain what he meant." Pete was forced to pull the few remaining fries he had closer to his side of the tray; Jim was trying to steal some. "Didn't you eat before you came here?"

"No, I promised Jean that I would come see you before I went home." Jim knew Pete well enough to see that he was trying to figure out why he promised Jean that, so he took advantage of that, leaned closer and managed to snag a few fries.

"Why did Jean send you here? And keep your hands off my fries." Pete moved them to the far corner of the tray. Then he finished off the chili before Jim tried to steal that too.

"She uh…well...it's kinda…sort of..." Jim wasn't quite sure how to approach the subject; a fact that was driving Pete nuts.

"Spit it out, will ya?" A few sips of the chocolate shake and Pete was done; passing the remaining fries to Jim.

"She wanted to know…if it's okay to come visit you." Per Jean's instructions, Jim paid close attention to Pete's facial expressions. She was worried that he would say it was okay to keep Jim happy, when he really didn't want to see her.

"Why wouldn't it be? Especially if she brings me some of that great carrot cake she makes." Pete's smile told Jim that he had forgiven Jean and would like her to visit; with or without the cake.

"Thanks Partner. I'll go home and tell her." Jim left, munching on the fries that had gone from hot and crispy to cold and soggy

O~O~O

Come morning, Jim and Larry were once again manning the front desk. It was a Tuesday morning, which tended to be a quiet day; today was no different. Jim had long since explained the procedures common to working the desk. They fielded calls; answering such difficult questions as "When is the next bike safety check" and "Is it legal for a high school band to march through a neighborhood practicing for an upcoming parade?" Kasak had trouble with the second question, but Jim bailed him out. Marching band practice laws are not stressed at the Academy. Most of the afternoon was spent staring at the clock.

"I can't believe we have to be back here at midnight." Larry was getting a rude reminder that his actions affected more than a window.

"Before midnight, don't forget roll call." As a consequence of working the Day Shift on their days off, Kasak and Reed missed the day between the rotations to another shift. Their normal watch was working the AM shift, which gave them the chance for five hours sleep before they reported for their next shift.

"Are the late night shifts quieter than the PM watch?" Larry suddenly seemed to be shy with a small smile and a shrug of his shoulders. "None of my friends from the Academy have worked the a.m. shift, yet."

"During the week they do tend to be quiet, but not until after the bars close and the drunks all get home; if they get home." Jim could barely remember a shift when they didn't have to deal with at least one drunk driver. "Sometimes we spot them and arrest them before they hurt themselves or someone else."

"And when you don't catch them before…they..." Larry left the question hover just out of reach. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. The one accident they had dealt with still left him queasy.

"Drunks usually end up in better shape then what they hit. They don't tense up before an accident like a sober person would." Jim was always sorry for the victims, but one remained stuck forever in his mind. A drunk crossed the yellow line and hit another car so hard that the man inside was thrown out onto the street. Near him were the Christmas presents the man was bringing home to his wife and kids.

"Jim? Are you okay? You look, I don't know, just not like you."

"I was remembering something that happened on a shift. It's not something I want to talk about." Jim slid off the stool and turned towards the door directly behind them. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Do you want some coffee?"

"Yes thanks, black, two sugars, please"

Jim nodded and left Larry behind. Instead of heading towards the breakroom, He leaned against the wall; eyes closed. When Pete, Mac and the Captain foisted Larry on him, Jim knew it would be hard; it was his job to teach Larry to survive, yet he never thought about the memories being a TO would invoke. He could remember the look in the wife's eyes when he and Pete told her that her husband was dead. The joy of the kids at seeing the presents in their hands; they were too young to understand that cops at the door unannounced was never good news. They had shattered that little family; nothing they said then or thought now could change that. Every Christmas Eve, Jim lit a candle for those kids and their mother.

O~O~O

"1 Adam-12, roger." A wave of excitement seemed to be running through Larry's whole being. Jim remembered that feeling; eagerness tempered by the fear that he would do something wrong, again. He had no clue as to how many dressing downs he was in for. "Was that okay, sir?"

"Perfect." He smiled at the rookie. "Relax, Tuesday nights are quiet." Jim pulled out the lot, making a left onto Benton Way. "It's been a few days since our last tour together; I'll spend some time showing you the hotspots in our reporting district."

Larry listened intently while Jim showed him the warehouses that line the district; pointing out the ones where drugs were stored. Jim pointed out the stores along the highway that were easy targets for a robbery and a quick getaway. He even pointed out Bernie's liquor store.

An hour into the shift the biggest call they got was a 459 that turned out to be a rather large cat eating out of the trash can. Ten minutes after they left the house, Jim stopped the car. It was time to refresh his memory. "Where are we?"

"Uh…." Larry barely started to turn his head to look when Jim jump in.

"No looking around. What street and what block are we on?" Jim had failed this test twice before he could tell Pete the correct answer. After 15 seconds of "ums" Reed went in for the kill, just the way Pete taught him.

"Too late…you're dead. Maybe I'm dead or both of us are. Perhaps a citizen buys it because you don't know where to send help." Pete had chewed him out for it, but after the dressing down, he had patiently explained the best way to keep track of where they were. It had been a rare look into the nice guy hiding behind all the anger and frustration Pete was feeling.

"I'm sorry sir. I'll do better." Jim nodded, instead of coaching him right away Jim chose to see if Larry could figure it out by himself. He smiled when he heard Kasak whispering the street names as they went through the intersections.

The next two hours of their shift were one call after the other. As soon as they cleared themselves, the dispatcher sent them on another call. They handled a bar fight, found a six-year old hiding in a closet, took two burglary reports and Larry took the statement of a man who had his pocket picked.

When a blue Thunderbird made a rolling stop, Jim turned onto La Brea Terrace to follow it. He was going to warn the driver when they noticed the car weaving in and out of its lane.

"Run the plate while I stop her." Jim flipped the switch to put the reds on. Usually, a driver will pull over when they see the reds, even if they thought it was because the squad car needed to pass them. When the driver didn't stop, Jim gave the horn a few beeps. The T-bird showed no signs of stopping so Jim hit the siren. Finally the right blinker went on as the car slowly weaved itself to a stop at the curb. Both officers got out of the car, with Larry saying that the plate was clean.

"Stand by the right rear corner of the car and watch out for any funny moves by the driver."

As Jim approached the window, a bleached blonde stuck her head out to give him the once over. As it would happen, she took an instant liking to the tall, dark and handsome police officer.

"Hi cutie, did I do something wrong?" She had a southern drawl that flowed like butter on a hot griddle." With a wink and a smile, the woman began to open the door.

"Please stay in the car. May I see your driver's license, miss?" A gust of wind gave Jim more than a little whiff of bourbon.

"Sure doll face." The blonde took her driver's license out of her wallet, but didn't hand it to Jim. "If I stay in here, are you going to join me?"

"No Miss…." Jim took the license; noting the name on the license before he gave it to Larry to run her for any warrants. "…Bailkowski, I'd like you to step out of the vehicle now."

"Sure hon, I'll do anything you want me to." The woman opened the door, swung fishnet stocking covered legs out and stood up. "You can call me Suzanne, blue eyes."

"Up on the sidewalk please Miss. Bailkowski." Jim stepped back to allow her some room to walk alongside her car. Two steps and she staggered into him; smiling up while she braced herself with a hand on his chest. "I love a man in a uniform and a cop is tops." Miss Bailkowski brushed her hand over his badge. While Jim removed the woman from his chest, he was sure he heard Larry laughing. He held her upper arm and guided her to the sidewalk. Miss Bailkowski got a glance at Jim's left hand before he removed it from her arm.

"You weasel. Does your wife know that you flirt with the women you meet on the job?" While Jim had long since stopped wearing his wedding ring while working, he did put it on as soon as his shift was over. After six years of marriage, the finger held an impression of the missing ring.

"Miss, I'm sorry if you got the wrong idea, but I am doing my job, nothing more." Jim again heard laughter from his trainee; stopping it with the police officer glare that Larry had yet to learn; or to become immune to. "I'd like you to stand with your feet together, arms out, eyes closed."

"Whoops!" Miss Bailkowski couldn't put both arms out much less put her feet together. She leaned towards Larry. "Hey Short-stuff, can you help a lady out here?"

The blushing rookie rose to the occasion; catching the drunken woman in his arms before she hit the ground. He was about ask Jim, who was chuckling slightly, what to do now, when she spoke.

"I prefer men over six feet, but from this angle, you're kinda cute. How about we ditch this guy and go for a ride?" Larry didn't know what to say, instead looking to this TO for instructions. Jim came to his rescue and between the two of them, they managed to get her into the back seat of their unit.

With Jim driving, it was Larry who rode with the prisoner. Larry was told to take out the Miranda card and advise Miss. Bailkowski of her rights.

"I would Reed, but she's passed out and leaning on my arm."

The only response Larry got was laughter from the front seat and a muffled snore from the unconscious drunk.