Rae: Updated again! Geez, I might be getting the hang of this updating thing!

Many luffles, hugs and yelling for 'MOAR!' to my Beta once again. (sniggers)

Jasper watched his partner from across the room. His rimless glasses were perched neatly on the end of his nose, and nimble fingers danced across the keyboard typing faster than Jazz ever could. He was obviously concentrating hard on something, or whatever it was he was doing had really caught his interest, because his eyes were narrowed at the screen, his brow was furrowed and his lips were pursed in thought. Grinning, Jazz slipped out of his seat and glided silently to a spot right behind Adam. A glance at the screen told Jazz that the detective was researching not only any similar bank robberies in and around Detroit, but also anything he could dig up on Morgan Russell. Jazz leaned in so his head was right next to Adam's ear, reading one of the articles silently, and then he spoke.

"Charity giver my ass. It's probably money he stole from 'em in th'firs' place."

Adam reacted just as Jazz predicted he would. He jumped a mile, letting loose a few choice swear words, and swung round with an instinctive attack. Jazz blocked it easily, dissolving into helpless giggles at his partner's flushed, confused face. The brunette's expression darkened and he scowled, unamused, at the darker man.

"Dammit, Jazz! Don't do that! You nearly gave me a heart attack."

"'M sorry man," gasped Jazz, laughter subsiding. "I couldn't help it; you were far too focussed 'n tense. Who knew yeh could swear better than Rai?"

Adam sighed, leaning back in his chair. "You're impossible." He took off his glasses, closing and rubbing at his eyes. "I can't find anything that would tell us why Russell would want to steal from a bank when he's ridiculously well-funded as it is." He opened one bright blue eye to give Jasper a curious look. "Where did you meet the gruesome threesome?"

Jasper snorted, going off into giggles once more. "'Gruesome threesome'... Man, Prowler, yer a riot sometimes. Would I b' rubbin' off on yeh a little?" He settled down again quickly, but the wide grin never left his face. Adam wondered if it actually ever did. "It was in LA, met 'em while I was with m'gang. Not an experience 'm in any hurry t'repeat."

"Los Angeles?" Adam looked surprised. "I didn't realize Russell's influence had spread that far."

"Dude, Russell's got international influence." Jazz waved a hand vaguely in the air. "'Sides, I don' think this was his idea."

"Then whose?"

"His three lackeys. They may b' his, but they're still street kids. They're jus' street kids who got a taste o'th'bigger thrills 'n went lookin' fer some themselves." The dreadlocked man shook his head and shrugged. "I ain't gettin' th'sense Russell knew 'bout this."

Adam frowned. "I still do not understand why you're saying that. What on Earth makes you think Russell wasn't aware?"

"I..." Jazz faltered, grin fading. "I still have a couple o' contacts in th'underground. All they're sayin' is it's real quiet with Russell at th'minute, so if it was him he's really keepin' it under th'radar."

"I would hardly expect him to advertise it. It only takes one snitch to get him caught, or at least in a whirlwind of trouble."

"True, but usually there's a flurry o' activity if Russell's dealin' or whatnot."

Adam's head fell back onto the desk with a groan. "This is getting too illogical. Can we focus on something else for a while, let it sink in?" Jazz chuckled and meandered back to his own desk to flick through a couple of reports.

"We can either go fer a possible arson or a homicide. Which sounds more fun?" Jasper waved both sheets of paper, one in each hand, and the detective glared at him briefly before pointing ambiguously in the direction of Jazz's right hand.

"Whichever that one is. Right now, I don't give a damn."

"So we'll take th'homicide fer 200 bucks," quipped Jazz, putting the potential arson report back in the 'open' tray teetering precariously on the edge of his desk. "Pack yer things, we're headin' t'Hamtramck."

"Great." Adam opened his top desk drawer, taking out the wallet, gun and badge laying in it. He made sure the safety was on before stowing away the gun in its holster, clipped the badge to his belt and the wallet disappeared in his front pocket. Jazz was doing the same opposite him. "Reckon it was racially motivated?"

"I dunno, but that area's so racially diverse I wouldn't draw th'line at sayin' yes."

Flashing their badges at the officer on watch, Jazz and Adam ducked under the police tape surrounding the apartment and entered what could only be described as a battlefield. Chairs were tipped over and broken, the glass coffee table was smashed as was the dining table, a wooden cabinet that would otherwise have looked pretty regal in one corner now had two huge dents in it, the grain splintered and caved. There were even a few bullet holes in the walls, and fair amount of blood was dripped and flung around haphazardly. Jasper gave a low whistle.

"Looks like someone got too carried away with th'party-throwin'."

"Apparently so." Adam wrinkled his nose, stepping gingerly across the floor into the bedroom where their body was. He couldn't hear Jasper following him, but somehow he knew he was. It was confirmed when they saw the body and Jazz made a surprised noise. The detective turned to him questioningly to see a mixture of recognition, repulsion, confusion and a flash of satisfaction so brief he thought he'd imagined it on the darker man's face. "Jazz? Are you okay?"

"That's Denton," he said quietly, putting his hands on his hips and cocking them in resignation. "Blaze Denton, aka Blitzwing. He's one o' our gruesome threesome."

"Body's not more than a few hours old. Five at the most, maybe." The coroner examining the body, who until then had stayed silent and not acknowledged them, straightened and turned to face them. "As much blood as there is both in here and the other room, exsanguination is not the cause of death." Jazz walked over to the body while Adam contented himself to looking around and listening in. The coroner pointed out a hole in the right shoulder. "That shot would have incapacitated him, if perhaps only briefly, but certainly not killed him. Same with these two." He moved lower to two more bullet wounds in the abdomen. "He would have been bleeding a lot, explaining the amount in the living room, and had he been left alone then exsanguination would have been COD, but those aren't what concern me." The man pulled away the purple-tinted hair from the sides of Blaze's head, and Jasper's eyes narrowed. Small, round marks that could only be described as scorch marks were clearly visible burnt into the skin on his temples.

"Did his killer do what I'm thinkin' he did?" muttered the dark-skinned man, and the coroner nodded.

"Yeah. COD was electricution of the brain. I'm betting it's fried or scrambled brains for breakfast when I get this sorry mess to autopsy."

Jasper turned around in time to see his partner shudder. "That's horrendous," he stated disgustedly. "Nothing more."

"I'm puttin' money on Octane doin' this, assumin' it was his mates that killed him. He's a monster, but he hates drawin' things out. Donovan woulda jus' let him bleed t'death, sadist that he is."

"But why rob a bank in downtown Detroit and then come back up here with it only to shoot one of their partners and disappear off again? It's not going over well with me."

"Maybe this was a safe house o' theirs, Denton started t'get cold feet 'n Donovan n' Octane weren't havin' that." Jasper moved over to Adam and put a hand on his shoulder. "Toldja they were ruthless."

"It's possible." Adam's blue eyes swept over the room one last time before he marched out, motioning for Jazz to follow. The dreadlocked man did until they got back out into the corridor outside the flat where he promptly moved himself up to Adam's right side. "Let's go check out the neighbors and the kids around here. Surely someone must have seen something."

"Maybe so, but in communities like this they don' like like talkin' t'strangers, 'specially cops. They hate cops with a passion."

"Still, we should try."

"Alright, yer th'boss." Jasper reached up and unwound the small band keeping his dreads tied up in a ragged ponytail at the back of his head, shaking his head to loose the matted coils of hair until they hung tamed yet unruly around his face. At his partner's questioning look he shrugged. "Always wore m'hair like this on th'street. Most kids do. Kinda identifies meh 'n it's easier t'talk t'one o' yer own, if yeh get m'drift."

A pause as Adam cocked his head to one side. "Makes sense, I suppose."

"An' don't let on yer a detective unless yeh have t', 's jus' askin' fer trouble." They stopped outside the first door they came across that looked like it had inhabitants, and Adam rapped smartly on the chipped and paint-deprived wood. There was a pause, a vague and pretty brief scuffle from behind the door, and then the unmistakable sound of a chain latch and a deadbolt sliding across. The face of a young woman, sharp and looking thoroughly irritated framed by dirty blonde hair peered through the gap.

"What?" She snapped. Jazz flipped her his most charming smile, and Adam wasn't sure whether to roll his eyes and facepalm or laugh when she relaxed a bit and opened the door a little wider, a flash of definite interest sweeping her pointed features. He settled for narrowing his eyes at her instead.

"Sorry t'bother yeh, li'l lady, but we're wonderin' if yeh knew anythin' 'bout what's happenin' down th'corridor? We're on our way back t' our flat, but th'coppers won't tell us nothin'."

"Yeah well they're coppers ain't they? They won't give you no information if ya got on your knees and begged for it." The woman put a hand on her hip and eyed them both. "You ain't coppers, are ya?"

"Nope. We got th'more... interestin' end o'th'stick," grinned Jazz disarmingly, and the woman nodded with a slight smirk.

"I see. Well, I don't know much, but what I do know was I heard angry voices few hours ago and they just louder and louder. I was gonna go tell them to shut the fuck up, but when I was opening my door I heard gunshots and decided not to interfere. Guns ain't exactly uncommon here, but they still ain't something ya mess with."

"How many shots?" asked Adam, and immediately gray eyes were scanning him with an unreadable expression.

"I dunno. Nine, maybe ten. Fuck if I was going to find out."

"Don' mind him, he's th'gun buff out o'th'two o' us." Jazz poked his partner good-naturedly. "Yeh hear anythin' else? We heard someone say sommat 'bout electrocution, but we didn't hear what th'reference was."

"A scream. After the gun shots, coupla minutes. Maybe someone was electrocuted." The blonde frowned. "Sommat new round here, I'll give ya that."

"That's jus' gross." The darker man pulled a face. "Well, thanks anyway, 'preciate th'info. I think yeh've satisfied our curiosity fer now." Jasper winked at the woman, and she drew up and gave him a smug expression in return. As they swung round to leave, she shot out a parting question.

"Hey handsome, ya selling?"

Jazz shook his head, looking apologetic. "Sorry babe, all sold out. Nex' time, swear it!"

"You better." She waggled her fingers at them in goodbye and shut the door, latching it again with thunks of metal hitting metal that could be heard down the hallway.

Jazz turned to Adam then. "So roughly ten shots. Fits what th'crime scene cops told us."

"You're far too good at wheedling information out of people," accused Adam on a sudden subject shift. "She took barely any cajoling to spill her story." Jasper appeared surprised at the allegation, but quickly scrapped the expression in favor of a cheeky, slightly vain one.

"I toldja, they're more willin' t'talk t' one o'their own."

"Pretending to be a drug dealer, or were you actually one?" snapped the brunette scathingly, but immediately regretted it when hurt and anger marred Jazz's handsome face briefly.

"That's strictly a need-t'-know basis, partner, 'n yeh don't need t'know," shot back the dreadlocked man succintly, scowling.

"I'm sorry, Jazz, I didn't mean..." Adam sighed, running a hand down his face. "I didn't mean that. My apologies. Something about this whole thing is getting under my skin."

"Well, there ain't any need t'take it out on me," the other huffed, glaring.

"I know, I know. I'm really sorry." Adam placed a placating hand on his partner's shoulder, and was glad when it wasn't shaken off. He was more than a little surprised when one of Jazz's hands came up to cover his own, and golden eyes swung to face him unseeingly.

"It's alright." A ghost of a grin swept full lips. "Didn't know yeh were capable o' such low blows, man."

"Shush." Adam felt his hand being squeezed gently before it was released, and he brought his hand back to his side. "Shall we do some more apartments?"

"Sounds like a plan."

Adam settled back in the cushy seats of Jasper's Porsche, studying his partner's profile. The man's face was relaxed but with an edgy worriedness that wasn't really discernable unless you were looking specifically for it. Jazz had obviously been pretty far down the wrong path before, and for quite a while at that. The brunette hadn't wanted to ask in case the darker man didn't want to talk about it, but Adam's curiosity was growing about how Jasper had managed to right his ship and set himself back on course. Who or what was his compass?

Jazz chose that moment to take a glance at Adam, and the edginess his face had barely been displaying vanished almost instantly as his lips pulled upwards in a grin.

"Yeh look like yeh either wanna ask meh sommat real bad, Prowler, or yeh've taken a shine t'this pretty face o' mine. Which is it?"

Adam flushed slightly and glared at the driver. "If you really must know, I was pondering whether to ask you something and don't call me Prowler."

"Ask meh what? An' hell, Prowl, y'know yeh don' mind meh callin' yeh that." There was silence as Jazz took the next right and waited for his partner to answer, but as it dragged on and Adam showed no signs of getting over his hesitation the darker man sighed. "Man, jus' spill already. What is it?"

"I just..." The brunette bit his bottom lip. "What made you want to be on the force, Jazz? I mean, for Pete's sake you were a gang member. Gang members don't just wake up one day and suddenly want to become a law enforcer."

"Love how yeh hate usin' th'word 'cop'," remarked the driver, throwing on the indicator to turn left and stopping at a red light, engine purring idly. "An' I think that's an explanation fer when we're not on duty. What 'bout dinner tonight? I know a good Vietnamese restaurant near m'flat, if yeh like that. My treat."

Adam considered, a little thrown and startled by the sudden invitation. "Vietnamese sounds good."

"Sweet. I'll wait fer yeh when we're done later, then."

They both settled back into quietude, Jazz wondering just what the remaining two of the gruesome threesome were actually thinking and what they wanted while Adam was wrapped in his thoughts that were trying to unravel the enigma that was Jasper Miles. He seemed to have too many layers to go through, far more than any normal person should ever accumulate in their lifetime, let alone the mere 26 years Jazz had been alive. But, the brunette decided, that wasn't going to stop him. He wanted - no, needed to tap into Jazz, know him like no one else and that scared him. How on Earth had he got so... so... obsessed with the cheeky, spontaneous, dreadlocked man sitting next to him? Adam shuddered and sank lower in his seat. Jazz, his mind stated, was a whirlwind that had just danced into his life and turned it upside down in no time at all.

And for some reason, Adam was not rejecting the change. He was just going with the flow, accepting it more and more, which was incredibly unlike him. He hated instability.

He needed a good long workout in the gym to blow off some steam when they got back to the station.

Adam's breathing was rapid but steady, even, counted. He was balanced on the balls of his feet, slightly crouched, before he sprang up to twist his body round, bringing his leg up in an arc to smash straight into the punching bag in front of him. As soon as his base foot hit the floor he was swinging his arm through the air to land a solid punch on the material, very quickly followed by his other hand. He kept up the barrage of relentless attacks on the aparatus, unaware he had an audience until a wisecracking comment brought him out of his focussed trance.

"What did that poor defenseless thing ever do t'yeh, Prowler?"

"Jazz." Adam straightened, shaking his limbs out with the air of someone having done merely a light run. "What are doing here?"

"Lookin' fer yeh. Promised yeh'd go fer dinner tonight, remember?" The darker man looked thoughtful. "Yeh look like yer tryin' t'get sommat outta yer system. Try a sparrin' partner, tends t'work better fer meh than an inanimate object." Jasper slipped off his jacket and holster, letting them drop to the floor around his ankles. His boots followed quickly, and he started to move onto the sparring mat.

Adam shook his head and waved a hand as his breathing slowed. "No, thank you Jazz. Tomorrow maybe. Give me five minutes to warm down and take a quick shower, and then I'll join you."

Jazz relaxed, smiling. "If yeh say so. But I'm always here t'whale on if yeh suddenly feel th'urge t'." He caught his things as Adam tossed them at him and chuckled. He put his jacket and shoes back on, but didn't bother with the holster and its gun. He waited on one of the benches until Adam came back out six minutes later, rubbing at his long, damp hair vigorously with a towel. He knocked Jazz's hand away when the lieutenant ruffled it playfully with a cackle.

"Ain't yeh gonna dry it?"

"There's no hair dryer in there," sniffed Adam. "So no."

"I've got one at my place, we can stop there fer a few minutes. Unless yeh wanna go t' a restaurant with wet hair." Jazz got a towel in the face and a 'yes please' for his comment, and when he emerged he was grinning. Adam rolled his eyes and pushed at the younger man to get back to his car. They left together in a companionable silence which lasted all the way to Jazz's Porsche, before Adam broke it with a question.

"What about my car? How will I get to work tomorrow?"

"Ah." Jazz paused in digging around for his keys in his pocket and looked over at Adam's Datsun. "Well, yeh can either follow meh with it 'n go home after dinner, or yer more'n welcome t'crash at my place 'n I'll drive us both in th'mornin'. Take yer pick, I ain't choosey."

Adam considered for a minute. "You have a spare bed?"

"It's either share mine or th'sofa bed. Ain't used th'sofa bed ferever, though."

"Then I think I'll take you up on your offer." Adam sent Jazz a small smile. "We can get to know each other more, maybe."

"Mine 'n a long night o' girly gossip it is, then," snickered Jasper, and resumed the pocket delving for keys, finding them with a triumphant noise and unlocking the car. The brunette slid into his seat, wondering what exactly he was doing.

"And I'll have the bánh cuốn," said Adam, handing the waiter his menu with a smile. Jazz grinned.

"Nice pronunciation."

Adam shrugged, leaning back in his seat and sipping his wine. "Thanks."

"Mmm, I've not been here in ages. Their bò kho is t'die fer." Jazz's voice lowered to a stage conspiritorial whisper for his last sentence, eyebrows waggling mischievously. Adam snorted and looked away so the dreadlocked man wouldn't see his widening grin. Really, Jasper seemed to have a talent for making people have a good time whether they started out wanting to or not. He raised an eyebrow when Jazz brought out a small glass vial from inside his jacket, and snatched it before the younger could do anything.

"Jazz..."

Said man looked sheepish. "Sorry. Thanks." It was thrown gently back at him, hitting him squarely on the forehead. A mock glare and good-natured shove under the table had them both sniggering.

The good mood was dampened slightly when Jazz added, "I promised yeh I'd spill what made meh go on th'straight 'n narrow, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did." Adam took another swig of his glass and leaned his elbows on the table, chin resting on interlocked fingers. Jazz sighed.

"When I was in LA, we got int' this fight with another local gang one night. Th'tension'd been buildin' fer ages, 'n it finally came down t'this really big shoot-out. I got shot, right here." He pressed his fingers to a spot a couple inches below his ribcage on his left side. "I went on fer a while, but I pushed mehself too hard. Didn't help I got shot again in th'same side. I passed out from bloodloss." Jazz lowered his golden eyes to his cutlery and began to finger the knife absently. "When I came too, th'firs' thing I noticed was I didn't hurt so much no more. Th'second thing I noticed were th'bandages, 'n th'third thing I noticed was a guy tendin' t' a cut on m'leg. What was really odd was th'tat on th'arm facin' me was th'symbol o' th'gang we'd been fightin'. He was on th'opposite side t'me, 'n yet he was helpin' me. I asked him, 'why?' right off th'bat. He was startled I was conscious, but he bounced back like it hadn't phased him. He didn't answer though, 'n he seemed t'have no ill intent. I let him work." The knife spun round on the table thanks to a prodding finger.

"I was in his company fer 'bout two weeks while I recovered enough t'leave, 'n in that time I learnt his name, his reason fer joinin' his gang 'n why he saved me. He did it 'cause he said he saw th'same spirit in me he had, which was a willin'ness t'help people rather than hurt 'em. I had t'admit he had a point. I hated it every time we got in a turf or revenge war. He told me o' his plans t'get enough money from workin' with his gang 'n then bail t'go on t' b' a doctor. It was his dream." Jazz grimaced. "He never got th'chance. Four days after I left him, we were at war with his gang again. An' this time he got shot, but there was nothin' I could do t'save him. Right through th'heart, it was. He told me not t'stay, t'go somewhere I could do good, take his money. He died in my arms. I decided then 'n there he was right, enough was enough. I left th'nex' day with his money, used it t'pay a deposit t'get int'th'police academy 'n fer th'removal of m' gang tat. Nex' thing I know, badda-bing, badda-boom. I'm here as yer partner." Golden eyes raised up to try meet with conflicted blue ones, waiting.

Adam remained silent, taking it in. In a way, it explained a lot about Jazz's high tolerence levels and inclination to offer at least one chance to people to prove themselves in the right. It also explained his ostensible ability to take death in his stride, like with Denton's body earlier. He'd had the worst of it, a friend die whilst he could do nothing. "That's powerful," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"Don' b'." Jazz composed himself, sitting more upright. "I'm livin' fer th'both o' us now."

"That's why you told me it was the best thing I could do for Kyle," Adam realized, tilting his head to one side. "You knew what it was like."

"Exactly." The lieutenant paused as their starters arrived, shooting the waiter a smile. "Now, anythin' else yeh wanna know?"

"Nothing morbid. I've had enough of that for one day." Adam touched Jasper's hand in a comforting gesture. "Thank you for telling me."

"No problem." A small smile graced Jazz's lips, before they quirked into a smirk and he abruptly changed the subject. "Now, tell me, how many girlfriends have yeh had 'n what were they like?"

Rae: Ooooh, straight to the point, Jazz! :D Next chappie up soon as I can, with a slightly different viewpoint this time. You'll see what I mean! Love yous all x