I borrowed heavily from Fake for the new characters, although I'm not sure about how OOC people are, since it's been a while since I read the series. But they're characters in New York that I don't have to build from scratch, so I went with it. (There will be some reference to m/m relationship, but not as a central element)

A Song of Sixpence

Randy McLane heaved a relieved sigh as he shuffled into their apartment, suitcases having gotten heavier by the minute. It was glorious to be back home, even with New York in the middle of what felt like a war zone. Was a war zone for all intents and purposes.

He was tempted to dump the bags in the foyer. Dee would have. But he wasn't his partner, so he dragged the darn things all the way to their bedroom before letting them drop. God he was tired. He toyed with the idea of falling into bed, but he was already heading to the bathroom as he thought it.

The door stuck. Or no, not stuck, exactly. There was something behind the door. Something heavy. He pushed the door again. Someone grunted.

Shit. Squatters? ' Wonderful time not to have your gun on you, McLane,' he berated himself as he backed quickly away.

"Alex!" came a muffled yell. There was a flurry of activity and a thud from behind the door before it was yanked open, revealing… a young woman. Short hair in disarray, she stared out in wild-eyed panic.

They eyed each other for a tense moment, then the woman let out a shaky breath. "You're not…" she trailed off. "Who are you?"

"Randy McLane. I live here."

"Uh. Oh," the woman said sheepishly. "Well. I'm Dana. It's uh, nice to meet you." She flushed. "We'll leave, you don't have to call the cops or anything. We just needed a place to crash."

"We?"

"Me and my older brother," she said reluctantly, glancing worriedly back over her shoulder.

"He's injured?" Randy asked, worried. Not exactly a surprise, given what was going on in the city. "Do you want help getting him to a hospital?"

"No!" she said, looking anxious. "No hospitals. Thanks, but he just needs a place to rest. He'll be fine."

Randy wavered. If the brother was too hurt to speak, he really should be in the hospital or at least a decent bed, but the young woman, Dana, didn't have that desperate edge to her voice that spoke of trying to convince herself as much as anyone else. And all this was supposing she was even telling the truth – this was New York, after all.

Oh hell, Dee would probably kill him for this, but, "You can stay here," he offered, taking a step forward. Immediately the door swung a bit more closed. He stopped. The worry on her face was real. "I won't hurt you, miss. I can help you move your brother to the bedroom, I'm sure he'd be more comfortable there."

"No, I think we're fine here," Dana said, frowning anxiously but still blocking the door.

Randy stayed silent, waiting.

"It's hard to explain," Dana continued after a moment, "but he's good where he is. Look. Like I said, we'll leave, we don't want any trouble."

"No," Randy said with a shake of his head. "I'd feel better knowing you were okay here rather than out on the street."

"We'll just find another empty apartm-" Dana stopped short and blushed. "Um."

Either she was a really excellent liar, or this Dana wasn't used to breaking into other people's homes. "It's not a problem," Randy smiled reassuringly as he took a step back and watched Dana relax fractionally.

"Oh. Well." Dana threw one last look back over her shoulder, paused for a moment, then sighed. "Thanks. Really."

Randy nodded. "Good night, then."

"Yeah. Good night," she returned and made to close the door, but paused. Glanced at him a little askance. "Why the hell are you being so nice?"

"It's a personal failing. I'm working on it," he said deadpan.

She huffed, amused. "Right. Good night."

Randy stood looking at the closed door. Dee was going to kill him. His cellphone was in his carry on bag, and he supposed he should go find it. If only to let his partner know not to shoot the people in the bathroom when Dee got back from checking in at the station house.