A week went by, and Gerard and Helen began to adjust to their partnership, although they had constant arguments, but mainly about little things that didn't matter. One morning, they were both surprised when they were called to James' office. When they entered, Helen shut the door behind them.

"What's this about?" Gerard asked.

"According to a tip, there's going to be a drug exchange tonight at the docks. I need you both to stakeout and see if it's legit. Any action, you move in, got it?" James explained.

Helen folded her arms. "The docks? I take it were not talking small potatoes."

"Hardly. The tipper said that a ship will come in, carrying ten to twenty crates containing cocaine."

"We're on it." Gerard said.

That night, Gerard and Helen went down to the docks. They hid in one of the warehouses, where they could get a good view at the ships that came in. After a few minutes, the two sat on the floor of the vacant warehouse. They both knew they were probably in for a long night, and so they brought a thermos of hot coffee, along with two mugs, two blankets (as a temperature drop was expected), and their walkie-talkies to keep in contact with the station.

Thirty minutes passed, and while two or three boats had docked, none of them seemed to contain drugs and there was no sign of suspcious characters either.

"Need a refill?" Gerard asked, holding up the thermos.

"Yes, please." Helen offered her mug to Gerard and he poured some coffee into it. "Seems pretty quiet."

"So far. I've been with the force for twenty-one-years, and I still haven't met a criminal who deals while all the lights are on."

"So, we could be here all night." Helen said.

Gerard nodded. "Never staked out before?" He downed the rest of his coffee.

"A few times, actually. Though I can safely say this is the first one in an empty warehouse."

There was a few moments of silence, neither one knew what to say. Gerard cleared his throat and used his binoculars to get a look at the docks again.

"Anything?"

Gerard lowered the bincoluars. "Not yet."

Again, silence. Helen hated how quiet it was, and so she decided to speak.

"Were you raised in Gotham?" Helen asked.

Gerard turned to her, slightly puzzled. "What did you say?"

"I asked if you were raised in Gotham."

"What kind of question is that?" Gerard asked.

Helen shrugged her shoulders. "Well, we've been partners for a week now. I think we should at least be able to figure out a little about each other."

Gerard sighed. "Yeah, I was raised in Gotham. My Mom died when I was two, and so my dad took care of me. He was a detective, and took me down to the station whenever he had the chance."

"So, it's in your blood then?"

"Yes. By the time that my Father retired, Gotham became nothing but an underworld of criminals. I was old enough to take his place, and destroy the bastards that made my home the way it was."

Lowering his head for a moment, Gerard turned to Helen. "What about you?"

"Not much to tell. I was born in Midway and raised by my parents, had a few good friends, and made decent grades at school." Helen chuckled slightly. "It seems dull, doesn't it?"

Gerard shook his head. "Not at all. But, I've gotta ask you: Why did you become a cop?"

Helen seemed a little hesistant to answer; before she could, there was a noise outside. Gerard quickly lifted his binoculars and saw two men, standing and talking. They were constantly looking over their shoulders, and seemed pretty afraid of something.

"Coleman?" Gerard whispered.

"What is it?" Helen whispered back.

"I think we might have trouble."