Det. Lt. Goldblume says to his class of rookie cops, "And there you have an overview of what life is like on The Hill. It's not pretty. It's not like what they show on TV. We just fight to stay alive and keep the streets safe. That's…about it. Any questions?"

A young officer raises his hand.

Goldblume notices him. "Yes, sir? A question?"

"Yeah. Are we required to dress in drag for assignments?"

The lieutenant looks at the rookie awkwardly. "Only if an undercover assignment calls for it. Usually a rapist case. Does that answer your question?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Does anybody else have a question?" Goldblume looks around the room. Then he sees the same rookie raising his hand. "Hanover…again?"

"Yes. I have to ask when we dress in drag, are we required to pick something out of our mother's closet?"

Various rookies snicker. Goldblume's eyes scan to see he's not being taken seriously. "Anybody else besides Hanover?"

Shortly afterwards, Goldblume slowly walks up the stairs. He catches the captain wanting to talk with Sgt. Bates.

Miffed, he walks away, just as some of the officers return with several gang recruiters. Bates leaves the captain's office.

Hill calls out, "Okay, Arturo. We're gonna get you set up behind a cushy cell. At least until your momma comes to bail you out. How's that?"

Renko gets in front of the youth. "Son, you were caught with a loaded weapon. How do you think that will look to the courts?"

"I can say it wasn't mine. I was just holdin' it for somebody else." Arturo answers confidently.

"In a school? Man, you're just as stupid as you look." Hill says.

Capt. Furillo calls over Hill and Renko. They look at each other after noticing Buchanan and Garcia nearby. The two walk into the office.

"Close the door." Furillo orders.

Renko does so.

"I just had a talk with Buchanan and Garcia. They told me they were short-handed at the high school.

"Uh, we were there, Captain. I swear." Hill answers defensively.

"Let me finish. They were at Burnett High School. You were at Jefferson. Can you explain how that happened, Bobby?"

"Yeah. We were assigned to Jefferson High as we were told."

"You were told? By who?"

Hill shrugs back. "By whoever put us in charge of the assignment. Division?"

"Didn't you get my memo? I left Lt. Goldblume in charge to give it to Sgt. Bates while in roll call."

Renko says timidly, "Captain? Uh, sir? No offense but Lt. Goldblume didn't say anything about it."

"So you're telling me that I had to address everybody individually about the change?"

Hill takes over. "Honestly Captain. There was no memo. Henry said nothing about the subject."

"He was there, right?" Furillo asks pointedly.

"Yes, sir."

"And yet he made no mention to say anything to Sgt. Bates?"

"No. He just seemed really annoyed by something or other."

"From now on, you two, Buchanan, Garcia, Rollins, and Monroe are assigned to Burnett High until further notice by me. Word down the pike is we have to keep our eyes fully open in that area."

"Uh, Capt.? What about Jefferson?"

"Jefferson doesn't have gang members family enrolled in their high school. That's why there was very little activity and they couldn't get in anyway. Burnett does. Now, I want you to finish booking those you have and then all of you go back to your assigned post. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay. You can go now."

Hill opens the door with Renko following close to him. They walk out into the squad room. Renko says, "Why would you say that about Henry and get him in trouble? Isn't that a form of tattle-tailing?"

"Renko, it's not a form of tattle-tailing if the captain wants to have our butts barbecued when we didn't do anything wrong. Now, Henry was supposed to give Lucy the memo and he didn't. I know he's not crazy about the pregnancy but that doesn't make him exempt from taking responsibility for his own actions."

"You know the captain's been developing a real sweet spot for Miss Lucy."

"It's not our place to play favorites. We got work to do. Come on, cowboy."

Furillo steps out of his office to watch Goldblume who gulps down a paper cup of water from the water cooler. Bitterly, the lieutenant crushes the cup, chucking it in a trash can nearby. The captain stiffens and goes back inside his office, picking up his coat.

...

Inside the surveillance van, Washington listens attentively through Belker's wire as he flips the pages of the art book.

DeGault quietly remarks to Westford, "Thees will be easy money."

Washington says, "That's right, babe. Easy money. Keep reelin' 'em in."

Belker is heard pulling out papers from a folder. "You gotta understand, we're on a tight schedule to open.

Westford asks, "When do you need them?"

"Oh, I'd say by the end of the week. The showing is on Sunday."

"Sunday?" Westford answers.

"Dammit, Mick!" Washington shuts the book, pounding his hand on the cover. "Nobody has a premiere on a Sunday! We're gonna lose this operation if you can't get it right. Sunday." He shakes his head. After regaining his composure, he says to himself, "Looks like it's time for help Michael Evan." Washington slides the headphones off, and dons a pair of fake reading glasses. He leaves the van.

Belker explains further. "Why? What's the matter with Sunday? Any day is good for art."

Westford slowly says, "Well, that's true. Odd choice of day though."

DeGault breaks into the conversation. "What are you looking for?"

"Looking for?" Belker freezes.

"Yez. Zhe type of art. Renaissance? Impressionist? Realism? Abstract? Minima.."

Washington breezes through. "Michael Evan," He says in a dignified accent. "Shame on you for not letting me in on the deal. We have a pact, you know."

Belker turns to Washington. "Of course, Neal. How could I forget? Well, what would you say we need for the show?"

Westford nudges his partner. "And, uh, who are you?"

Washington introduces himself. "Neal Humphrey." He shakes their hands. "We really need some artwork for the big show."

"Right here?" Westford points. "In this town? Between this line of buildings?"

"Where would you suggest? Next to Sadie's Showgirls?"

"Um, no."

"So, what do you have?" Belker asks.

DeGault opens up a folder. "These." He flips pages. "We've got many to choose from, as I started to tell you before he came in. Renaissance. Impressionist. Realism. Abstract. Minimalist. Modern."

"I think we'll want to start with some big names. Like, uh… Three of Van Gough. One Renoir. Gauguin. Monet. Ah, make that two." Belker looks over some of the names.

Washington takes over. "Don't forget Degas. What do you have for Renaissance?"

Westford answers with, "Which would you like? French? Italian? Spanish? Flemish?..."

"Flem-ish? Yuck." Belker responds.

Washington quickly elbows him in the ribs. "Italian."

...

Goldblume knocks on the captain's door.

Furillo answers, "Come in."

"You wanted to see me, Frank?"

"Please, close the door."

Goldblume shuts it, and eyes Furillo with peculiarity.

"Henry, what was written in the memo I handed to you this morning?"

"The memo? You mean about the gang recruitment?"

"Yes, Henry."

"You mentioned how the officers were stationed at the school."

"The memo read, all officers are to change focus from Jefferson to Burnett High School. That's what was supposed to happen, but instead I find out that two of my men were at Jefferson because they didn't get the memo you were supposed to give them."

Goldblume turns away in shame. "It was an honest mistake, Frank. I didn't think."

"Henry, it's not like you to get sloppy. That's not how you earned your promotion as lieutenant." Furillo answers sternly.

"What can I say?" Goldblume shakes his head. "I just… I just didn't think."

"Because of your non-thinking, we almost lost a few gang members. Henry, whatever is going on, you need to seriously consider the implications of putting this department in jeopardy. When I leave someone in charge, I expect them to carry out orders."

A flustered Goldblume turns back. "Frank, what am I supposed to do? You put me on duty with a bunch of kids that don't take anything I say seriously. It's worse than when I had to help potty train Annie and Josh. These are grown men who the general population are supposed to trust? God help them, Frank."

"It's your responsibility to teach them, not figure they're a lost cause simply because you don't like a particular assignment." Furillo answers bitterly.

"That's another thing, Frank. All of the latest assignments have been undermining my ability. Not only that, but I lose roll call to Lucy Bates."

"You know why she's doing that. I can't send her out in the streets in her condition."

"But you allowed Milner and even Hammond do active duty until four months. They were pregnant too. Second trimester. Lucy's barely out of her first. You know what? Forget it. Let's just wipe away everything… Never mind." Goldblume puts his hands up in defeat. He quickly makes his way out of the captain's office.

Furillo looks out the door with a sigh.

...

Goldblume finishes washing his hands when Lt. Hunter enters the men's room. Goldblume looks in the mirror as he asks, "Is it just me or is Frank being a little overly protective?"

Hunter pulls the pipe out of his mouth. "Of what, Henry?"

"Lucy."

"Well, as we know she is in a sensitive situation until the holidays."

"The pregnancy. It's okay to say the word." Goldblume answers dryly.

"She's in a time where there's a lot of upheaval. The sensations of a new life growing inside. An adjustment of the human organs preparing one for enough space to accommodate the new tenant. A body where all nutrients will be met by the need of this little creature who shall devour and snack on whatever its mother eats."

Goldblume testily dries his hands with a paper towel. "Oh, for crying out loud, Howard."

"Births and babies are an integral part of the whole path not only humans but animals partake to keep its… our kind from going extinct."

"Thank you Dr. Spock." Goldblume says with sarcasm. "I wasn't talking about a whole lesson on childbirth, Howard. I was stating that our captain is perhaps playing favorites."

"How so?" Hunter asks slightly perplexed.

"Remember that rookie we had last year? Barbara Hammond? Pretty girl between her late 20's early 30's? Red hair. She was only with us a little less than six months. Three months until she announced she was pregnant. There was no preferential treatment with her. If anything, she felt slighted that nobody asked how she was doing. She did all of the dangerous work a patrol officer usually does. If anything, she got angry and quit the force when things got too hairy for her.

"I think I see where this is going." Hunter answers.

"Did Frank care then? No. Did he even care Barbara's boyfriend was a firefighter from Company 4? No. What does he do with Lucy though? After only six weeks of pregnancy and finding out he tells me, 'Take her off of all patrol duty.' Then he assigns her to do roll call. 'Sorry Henry. I have to give her something to do.' Yeah, as if working with files isn't enough. She handled it poorly after Phil died. She did a little better after, but then she pulls this."

"Henry, are you jealous of a fetus?"

"No. I don't blame the baby. I blame this need of her to remind us all the time who the father is. What she said in roll call today was uncalled for."

"She was provoked, Henry."

"So? She says things when she's not provoked too. Howard, there is a difference between professionalism and being tacky. She's using this child to show its pedigree. She knows John LaRue was one of Frank's favorites. Face it, this kid has a better bloodline than your Shar-Pei."

"Henry, have you ever looked at it from her point of view? She knew John a far greater deal longer than either of us. Nothing ever went on between them while he was here at the station. She loses Joseph under tragic circumstances. When she finally gets together with John, he's taken away the next day under a cloud of insidious political greed. And then she's left with an innocent child who's left fatherless."

Goldblume goes over to the condom vending machine, drops a coin in and retrieves a small plastic packet from the receiving tray. He holds it between his fingers. Snidely he remarks, "All it takes is one of these to fix the problem." Slapping it on the sink, he walks out the door.

Hunter picks it up and says to himself, "Low blow, Henry. Low blow."