Shay slid into her seat beside Traci just as Officer Best began his morning announcements. She saw Swarek slip into the back and cross his arms, taking a sip of his coffee. It was black, a fact that he had told her when she ordered her usual sugar-filled drink, which he claimed wasn't even real coffee. Best cleared his throat, and Shay faced the front again.
"Nash, you get a break from the Baxter case; you'll be with Williams. McNally, Swarek. Peck and Shaw, Epstein, you'll be flying with the boys down at the National Guard; they're looking for someone to represent the police force at their annual presentation. Diaz and Walker, you're riding desk." He glanced down at his clip board. "Any questions?"
No one said anything. "Alright then," he continued. "Diaz, show our new rookie the ropes on desk work. Serve, protect, and will someone please get me a coffee?" Best grumbled good naturedly. They all exited the tiny debriefing room and went out to their respective tasks. Shay didn't mind that she was stuck inside doing paperwork; it needed to be done, and besides, it might help her get to know 15th a little better.
The tension in the car was so think Andy thought that she could probably cut it with a knife. Sam sat in the driver's seat, staring straight ahead and not saying a word, and Andy was leaning against her seat, trying to ignore the awkwardness of their first drive together since she had returned from her leave.
Suddenly Sam spoke. "So how's the new apartment?"
"Good," Andy replied, relieved that he had started the conversation, although it wasn't the topic she would have chosen. "It's got a great view."
They lulled into silence again.
Andy hesitated. "So… what do you think of the new rookie, Detective Barber's cousin?"
Sam shrugged. "She's smart, but she's kind of weird. Socially awkward, you know? Really independent."
"I saw you come in with her this morning," Andy said casually as they took a turn into the heart of downtown Toronto.
"Yeah," Sam looked as calm as ever, not at all bothered by her prying. "Jerry asked me to pick her up. She missed her bus or something." He tapped his fingers slightly on the wheel, a sign that Andy knew meant he was itching for something to do. "We stopped for coffee, if you could call that crap she was drinking coffee."
Andy scolded herself for the slight thump her heart gave at the thought of him having coffee with another woman. It's just because he's your friend, she told herself. You just want someone worthy of him, not some stranger no one's met before.
As they kept talking it became easier, although they both avoided the big elephant in the room, or car, in this case. They talked about work, what movies they'd seen lately, the weather, but not about the intense moment they had shared when Andy was certain Sam was a dead man. Knowing us, Andy thought ruefully, it could take months until we actually talk about it. I'm surprised that we're talking at all, actually.
"Alright," Diaz said. "That's pretty much all you need to know! It's not too, hard, once you understand the system."
Shaylene gave him a half smile. "Thanks, Officer Diaz." She was sitting in one of the rolling chairs behind the desk beside him, facing the mound of folders in front of her.
"Man, no need to be so formal," he grinned at her. "You're one of us now! Call me Chris." He held out his hand.
Hesitantly she took it. "Shaylene."
Chris leaned back in the chair and put his hands behind his head. "So Shaylene, what district were you at before 15?"
"9th." She said quietly. 9th was the other main district that covered Toronto; while 15th covered the lower East end, most famous for guns, gangs, drug busts and robberies, 9th covered uptown, which mostly consisted of elite night clubs and break and enters into fancy houses.
"Whoa," Chris gave her another grin. Entirely too happy. Shay thought. And nosy. "Pretty big change of scene then, eh?"
"I guess." Shay replied and then she turned away to clearly define the end of the conversation.
Chris got the message; he turned away as well and began to flip through some files that needed to be sorted. Shay did the same, but her mind was elsewhere. It wasn't a huge change of scene for her; after all, she had grown up in the slums of Toronto. That was partly why she had requested to be transferred to 15th; she knew the lay of the land, knew that part of the city as well as the back of her hand.
After the small talk had finally petered out and silence had reigned supreme for about half an hour, the radio finally crackled to life. "We have a noise complaint in your area, 1505. 668, apartment 47, corner of Westminster and York."
Andy grabbed the radio gratefully and, with a nod from Sam, said, "10-4 dispatch, we're on it."
"I hate noise complaints," Sam began.
Andy cut him off with a smile. "But they're better than nothing." He looked at her. "What? Haven't I heard you sat it a thousand times?"
He shot her a small smile, the first of the day, and flicked on the lights as they headed towards the apartment.
They had been working quietly for a while when suddenly Chris spun his chair around. "So," he said.
Shay waited for him to continue but he didn't seem like he intended to. "So….?"
Chris shook his head, a bashful grin on his face. "I wanted to start a conversation, but that's all I've got."
Shay smiled. He was the kind of perky-annoying that drove her crazy, but he wasn't a bad guy. "So… where're you from, Chris?"
"A little speck outside the city. It's not a bad place, if you don't mind seeing the same 5 people everywhere you go- I grew up there, moved to the city when I turned 20 and entered the academy." He became aware that he was on the verge of over-sharing so he turned it back on her. "You?"
"I'm from the city." Was all she said.
"Oh," he didn't look put off by her answer. "Alright. Why'd you become a cop?"
Shay looked down uncomfortably. The truth was, she became a cop because it seemed like the only way anyone would ever respect a bastard kid from the East end slums, but there was no way she was telling Chris Diaz that. With a half-smile she replied. "I look good in blue."
And that was the end of that.