A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed my last chapter, even those of you who hate me now. Believe it or not, there is a grand scheme at work in this fic. It may not be entirely what you wanted when you stepped into my little world, but I hope you'll sit back and relax and enjoy the ride with me. I wanted to do something new, surprising and different. That's the fun part of all this, isn't it? Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys the new episode tonight. Here's a new chapter to help you kill the hours until 10

Chapter 15: One Step Closer

"You need to find someone else to take this case."

Frank looked up, one eyebrow cocked in confusion. Jo Rosati stood before him, her normally calm demeanor gone, and an unusual flush across her cheeks. "And why is that?"

"McNally…" Rosati drew in a sharp breath through her teeth and then exhaled loudly. "McNally doesn't trust me. She thinks I'm out to get her, and I need her to cooperate if we're going to find out what the hell really happened in there." She gripped the back of the chair across from him, holding it so tightly her knuckles were white. "You need to find someone else."

"There isn't anyone else." Frank said, his voice sharp. "Nash can't take over, it's a conflict." He didn't mention the new detective HQ had sent over three months ago to take over for Jerry Barber. The new detective, Zaf Qadir, was a solid cop. He was smart and efficient and had the highest closure rate fifteen had ever seen. There was no way he would be willing to hold off charging McNally, or spend weeks chasing down every single unanswered question just in case the obvious suspect was the wrong one. No, there was no one else.

"Then I need Swarek." Jo said, releasing the back of the chair so she could sink into it. "He was first on the scene, and McNally trusts him."

"Swarek." Frank couldn't find a word that could convey how horrible an idea that was.

"Look, he doesn't have to sign his name to anything, and I'll be there the whole time." Jo leaned forward, her elbows propped on her knees. "If you don't want McNally and all of fifteen division dragged through the mud in some newspaper before the week is out, I need Swarek."

Frank weighed the options carefully. Officially, he knew nothing of Swarek and McNally's relationship except that they hadn't been in contact in five months. Sam was the responding officer on the case, which meant his name was already on it, and gave them reasonable deniability if anyone questioned the call. If McNally was innocent, and oh how Frank hoped she was, Swarek would figure it out… or die trying. Frank had long ago given up trying to figure out those two, or keep them apart. He held Jo's eyes for a full minute, looking as unyielding as he could, while her eyes pleaded with him to just give in.

He knew he would, he just wanted to make sure she knew this was a hail Mary and he didn't feel great about it. Still, she had a point. There was only so long the Toronto press could be kept out of this, and if the press found out fifteen division had held off pressing charges to protect one of their own, Frank and all of fifteen division would come under accusations of corruption that the station did not need. "Fine. But his name goes on nothing, and if he so much as puts a toe over the line he's off the case."

"Thank you." Jo flashed him a quick smile and rose to her feet. "If there's something to find, we'll find it."

"Good." Frank picked up his pen and turned back to work, but his mind wasn't totally on the page in front of him. Worry gnawed at his brain. He hoped he hadn't just made a catastrophic mistake.

For her part, Jo felt nothing but relief. She hadn't been entirely honest with Frank. She could work with witnesses who didn't trust her, it was part of the job. What she wasn't sure she could do was work one on one with McNally without doing something incredibly stupid. Like kissing her in a burnt out building? A snide voice in her head asked. Jo ran an agitated hand across the back of her neck. She needed a drink.

Tomorrow was soon enough to tell Sam he was working with her. She was pretty sure from the number of times she'd seen him looking her way the last few days that he would have no objections to Frank's strict rules, as long as he got his hands on Andy's case file. Jo really couldn't figure those two out.

Two years ago she had been so sure they were in love, but as far as she knew they still weren't a couple. She'd learned from bitter experience that most relationships didn't survive a five month long task force, no matter how perfect they seemed. Then again, she also knew it wasn't always easy making the first move when the person you liked was your partner.

.

.

2005

"You are not going to believe this!" Jo burst into the office she shared with her new partner, Luke Callaghan, a cup of coffee in one hand, a stack of photos in the other.

Luke looked up from their case file, his blue eyes bloodshot from too many hours spent starting at the same page waiting for an answer to jump out at him. "What now? Don't tell me the hair samples we collected are from the neighbour's cat."

Jo rolled her eyes. Ever since the lab had called them up to say that the faint blood trail they had found near the scene was from an animal, probably a raccoon who'd sliced his paw on a can, Luke had been in a terrible mood. This was only their second case together, but already Jo was learning the quirks of her new partner. She set the coffee down in front of him. "Drink."

He grumbled something that sounded like 'I already have a mother,' but he picked up the cup and took a cautious sip.

"Spoiled by milk and two sugars, just how you like it." Jo said, barely containing a chuckle. Get the man a black Americano one time and suddenly he thinks everything you hand him is poison. Sue her for trying to make a good impression on the sexy blonde man some benevolent god had decided should be her partner.

Having assured himself the coffee was palatable, Luke drained the cup in three swallows. "Alright, what won't I believe?"

"Okay, you were right about the hair." The look on his face was worth the lie. "But it's a rare Persian, so they figure we should be able to track its owner—" she petered off into laughter. "Your face!"

"Someone was murdered you know." Luke said sternly, although there was a twinkle in his eye that hadn't been there before.

Jo rolled her eyes. "Spoil sport." She handed him the top photo, their fingers brushed and a tingle raced down Jo's spine. "Look familiar?"

"It's our crime scene." Luke gave her a look that suggested he thought she was either sick or mentally deficient.

"Notice anything else?" Jo asked, rolling her lips together to prevent a smile. Any other partner she would come right out and say it, but she couldn't help toying with Callaghan; she'd never really learned a better way to flirt, not that he seemed to pick up on it.

He turned the photo towards the light, examining every inch closely. "The angle is off." He said, almost to himself. "Where was this taken from?" He looked up.

"Neighbour across the street is a paranoid whack job." Jo grinned triumphantly. "Guy has at least six cameras on the outside of his house, keeps 'em running 24/7 and stores three weeks of backup on his hard drive."

"Did he…?"

Jo nodded and fished another photo out of the stack of stills she'd printed. "We have a face."

"You're right. I don't believe it." Luke stared at the photo, his mouth slightly slack. "I know this guy."

"You—what?" Jo pulled another shot of the killer's face from the stack of photographs and examined it for anything familiar.

"Two years ago, got him on a B&E but had to let him go for not enough evidence." He swivelled to face his computer. "He's cut his hair, but I'm sure it's the same guy." It took a few minutes, but then there was a face on the screen.

Jo held her photo up beside it. The man in the photo was a little older, and the crew cut was a drastic change from the shoulder length locks in the mug shot, but it definitely looked to be the same man. Jo smiled. "Let's bring him in."

The takedown was a little anti-climactic. Maxwell Hearst, as Jo learned their perp was called, had a day job as a pet store downtown, a job he'd apparently decided to continue working even after killing one of the shop's customers. Brains he did not have in abundance. They caught him just as he was unlocking the front door to start his shift. He didn't even try to run.

The whole drive back to the station, he cried like a baby and as soon as they threw him into an interrogation room with a CSU officer to get his prints while they waited for a court appointed lawyer to show up, Jo turned to Luke. "Can I buy you lunch?"

His smile set butterflies churning in her stomach. "I have some paperwork to get done before the lawyer gets here."

The butterflies nosedived in disappointment.

But Luke wasn't done. "How about dinner? at F'Amelia? I'll pick you up at seven."

Jo nodded. "Sounds great." She said in what she hoped was a casual voice, though she knew her cheeks were flushed pink with excitement. She turned towards the kitchen to get them both some more coffee, but Luke's hand on her shoulder stopped her in her tracks.

"Just so you know, this is a date."

Even the fact that Maxwell Hearst could only confess by half sentences choked out through his tears and it took them three hours to process him couldn't dull Jo's good mood that day. She had a date.

.

.

Sam's alarm woke from the best night of sleep he had had in months. He tried to slap the snooze button, but he couldn't move, his left arm was pinned under something heavy. Slowly the memory of the night before flooded his brain and a smile spread over his features. Andy. He opened his eyes, squinting a little against the morning sun's brightness. Andy was sprawled next to him, his arm trapped under her torso, their fingers still entwined. He planted a kiss against her shoulder and then, slowly, trying not to wake her, pulled his arm free.

She shifted, mumbled something he couldn't quite hear, and buried more firmly into the mattress. Sam pulled the blankets up a little higher on her and then got out of bed. As much as he would have loved spending the entire day, week, month, in bed with her, he had work to do. He grabbed clean clothes from the drawer and pulled the curtains closed, earning him a "mhank oo" from Andy, and hit the shower.

Twenty five minutes later he was showered, shaved and dressed and there was a pot of coffee brewing. Sam leaned against the counter and scrolled through the messages on his phone. There were two this morning from Jo and he skipped over one from his sister and another from Oliver to read hers first.

You're with me today. Get in here ASAP

Sam quickly scrolled to read the next message.

Don't tell McNally.

He stared at the phone for a moment. More secrets and lies. Just what they didn't need. But part of him knew this was probably necessary. At least until he knew what Jo knew, after that he wasn't keeping anything from Andy unless it was for her own good. He wondered how on earth Jo had convinced Frank this was a good idea, and why. But he was too grateful to wonder for long.

"Andy!" He called in the direction of the bedroom, pouring what coffee had already dripped through into the pot into a travel mug, "I'm going in early. There's coffee on." I love you! The words almost escaped, but he bit them off.

Not today. Not right now. It was too soon.

Timing. Regardless of what Andy had told him years ago, timing was not his strong suit. At least not when it came to the woman he loved.

Fifteen division was busy when Sam pushed through the glass doors. The night shift was getting ready to go home, the morning shift was just heading out to their cars, and it seemed like every detective, secretary and janitor on staff was doing something in the hallway. It took Sam almost ten minutes to find Rosati.

"There you are." He snapped when he finally tracked her down. It was funny, he didn't mind the chaos when he was a part of it, but trying to find someone in the mess was like swimming up stream and the wonderful mood he had been in just half an hour earlier disappeared rapidly.

Jo looked amused, it didn't help Sam's mood. "Good morning to you too." She picked up a sheaf of papers off the printer. "Come to my office. We've got lots to cover."

She wasn't kidding. It took the better part of two hours for Sam to make his way through Andy's file. When he reached the end he closed the file and tossed it on top of Jo's desk, fighting an urge to throw it against the wall. They really had nothing, at least nothing that didn't point directly to Andy.

Of one thing he was certain, this was no accident. Someone was setting Andy up. Now he just had to figure out who.

A/N: For anyone totally confused about Jo's sexuality right now: like many women, she's a little bi curious, but she mostly finds herself attracted to men. So if you're thinking Luke was her beard or something, that's not quite where I was trying to take this.