Rae: Sorry about the update wait, guys! I actually had this alllll written out on Friday last week, but somehow between walking from my neighbor's house where'd I'd been writing while babysitting and my house the memory stick I had it stored on got corrupted. I've had to re-write as much as I could from memory and wing it for the rest.

I also expect updates will start to be a little slower now that my university work is picking up, so I shall apologize in advance for that as well. Rest assured I have no plans to stop this any time soon.

Many luffles and hugs (and Heath and Thane!) as always to my Beta! x

"They did WHAT?" Morgan Russell glared at his second-in-command in outrage. "Why am I only hearing about this now, Spencer?"

"Because the police kept it wrapped up pretty tight," grumbled his right-hand man. "I told Warren to pass on the message to you, but apparently his memory banks are glitching." He shot a glare across to a purple-haired man, slightly younger than himself, who just sent him a sheepish grin in return.

"I don't give a shit about who was supposed to tell me what! I should have known this fucking hours ago!" Morgan growled, almost to the point of being feral. He swung round to the last of the three men in his company, a so-far silent man with black hair and bright blue streaks running through it. "Find them. I want them back here in front of me by tomorrow noon."

The man bowed slightly and left, the trenchcoat he wore swishing elegantly behind him before disappearing along with its wearer. Morgan turned back to the remaining men. "At least Thane is reliable, unlike you two failures," he spat.

"But my Lord-"

"I don't want to hear it." The crime lord put his hands on his desk and hung his head. "I don't know why I put you as my second in command, Spencer. And you, Skype, you're just useless."

The purple-haired man flinched. "My Lord, I'm-"

"I said I didn't want to hear it. Get out, both of you, and find me those traitors!" Russell slammed a hand back down on the wooden desk, and his two companions left hurriedly with a 'meep' from Warren. There was silence for a couple minutes, and then a figure emerged from the shadows, auburn eyes blank to match his expression.

"Suggestion. Hurry. Police are in pursuit also." Morgan was quite used to the way his information specialist talked now, however strange it was. He appreciated it, really. It was refreshing, direct, to the point. Certainly the figure didn't beat around the bush like most of his useless forces seemed to do a lot of. That, sadly, didn't improve his mood. In fact, the man's words just worsened it.

"Tell Spencer, Warren and Thane to get more into the hunt, then. We have no time to waste."

"Yes sir." The figure became shadow once more, and Morgan groaned. This was going to be a long night.

Adam watched his partner in the kitchen making them both something hot to drink from where he was sat on the pulled-out sofa-bed in Jazz's living room. Adam wanted coffee, but Jazz had declared he hated the stuff and was brewing himself some peppermint tea instead. An unusual drink for an unusual man, thought the brunette in amusement. His gaze shifted from his partner to the flat. It was small, cozy. A tidy kitchen opened into a small living room, where Adam would be sleeping. From the living room there was a short corridor leading to a fully-fitted bathroom and the master, or Jazz's, bedroom. Adam found he really liked the flat; it was simple yet stylish.

Jazz finished in the kitchen and came through with two steaming mugs, passing the one filled with black, bitter liquid (and one sugar) to the brunette with a bright smile and holding onto his own mug. He carefully planted himself on the other side of the bed with his drink and the TV remote, and he switched it on and flicked through the channels, eventually settling on a Bourne Supremacy premiere. They sat and watched in silence for quite a while, drinking and just enjoying each other's company.

Adam made a noise of surprise when something unexpectedly touched his bare feet, and Jazz abruptly pulled his own feet away. "Sorry, man."

"It's alright. You just scared me, that's all." Adam sent him a small smile, which was returned tenfold. Feet tentatively touched his again, and Adam pushed them in a rare bout of playfulness. They were pushed back, and suddenly both of them were in an all-out Footsie war, snickering and occasionally poking or prodding each other with fingers.

When they settled down again a couple minutes later, Adam was acutely aware their feet were still entwined, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he just relished the feel of Jazz's smooth skin against his own, and took the opportunity of Jasper's TV-distracted attention to look him over while taking what remained of his coffee off its mat on the floor. He had full lips, a typical feature of his obviously, if only half, African-American heritage, and a small, slightly snub nose. Brilliant gold eyes, while dulled by their inability to see, still lit up with something if he had a particularly strong emotion. High cheekbones rounded off an oval face perfectly. In short, to Adam he was exquisite.

As if sensing Adam's gaze, Jasper turned around to meet it, and Adam had to fight a flush at being caught staring. A lazy, cheeky grin curled at Jazz's lips.

"Y'know," he said casually, "yeh told meh 'bout yer girlfriend, so what 'bout boyfriends? Had any?"

Adam spluttered on a sip of his coffee. "What?! Where did that come from?"

Jazz sniggered. "Man, it ain't like I care either way. I was jus' curious."

The brunette studied his partner for a few seconds. "No," he said finally. "Not me. What about you, Oprah?" Jazz shoved at him lightly for the jibe.

"Yeah, once. An officer at m'previous station. Thought we had it good, til he found a really pretty skirt t'chase 'n left meh high 'n dry. Shame too, he was jus' m'type."

"I'm sorry."

"Don' b'. Turned out he was skimmin' money off meh anyway. Not much, but he was." Jazz shrugged one shoulder. "He was th'last relationship I had." He smiled lightly, then turned his attentions back to the TV, apparently done asking Adam awkward questions for now. The brunette, however, kept his on the younger man, contemplating silently.

He couldn't pinpoint exactly when his feelings had grown from reluctant friendship to something much more, nor could he answer how it had happened in only a few short days, but there they were. He really couldn't deny it. However, as his gaze slid away from the lieutenant back to the TV he promised himself he wouldn't tell Jazz anything nor would he let it show, until and if the African-American himself showed any more interest than friendship. Their connection as good friends was something he didn't want to ruin.

The next morning Jasper and Adam stepped into the station's small, cozy lobby from the garage, intent on going to their shared office, but were stopped at the sight of two late-teenage boys arguing with their main receptionist, Dana. The silver-haired girl was looking anything but happy, and Adam was about to ask what was going on when Jazz stepped in.

"Yo Sunny, Sidam! What's up?"

"Jazz!" Two simultaneous voices turned to them as the boys themselves did, and Adam was suddenly faced with a pair of identical twins. One had red highlights running through his dark-brown hair and a mischievous glint in his eyes, while the other one had blond highlights and a sullen look about him.

"What're yeh doin' here, guys?" Jazz looked surprised, but bumped fists with them both.

"We got something to tell you. It's important," The red-haired twin piped up, and then he noticed Adam. A sly grin slid onto his face. "Well heeelllllooooooo... Jazz, you got yourself a cute one this time!"

"Oh stuff it, Sides. This here's m'partner Adam. Adam, these two are Sidam 'n Sunny Kihm, th'cheekiest twins yeh'll ever come across." Jazz gestured to both boys.

"So I noticed." Adam raised an eyebrow. "Pleasure to meet you both."

"Same here," Sidam grinned. "Now, can we go to your office? This can't wait, it really can't."

Jazz nodded and crooked a finger to signal them to follow him, and he and Adam continued their interrupted walk to their office, the twins trailing them. As soon as they got in Adam went to his desk and pulled a few papers from his tray, putting his glasses on. Sunny and Sidam perched themselves on Jazz's desk, while the lieutenant himself flopped into his chair. "Alright, shoot," he said.

"We know where-"

"-your fugitives are. Right now. But-"

"-at a price. Russell knows-"

"-that we're snitches," finished Sunny with a frown. "There's no way we can go back into the field."

Both of the partners stood up at that, snatching up their stuff. "Where are they?" Adam demanded.

"North end of town. Chaldean Town, Highland Park estate complex, 8th floor, apartment 816," supplied Sidam.

"Thanks. Stay here, yeh'll be safe." Jazz left with Adam as the brunette activated his comm to call for additional officers.

"Better hurry! If we know where they are then it's a guarantee Russell does too!" hollered Sidam after them as they disappeared out of sight.

Adam hung up on the communications. "They are your underground contacts? They're just kids!" He holstered his gun as they ran to the garage.

"They volunteered fer it! I still needed contacts 'n they wanted t'do sommat positive with themselves. What could I do t'stop 'em?" Jazz shot him a look. "An' anyway, we got more pressin' matters."

"Benjamin, Raji, Heath and Byron will meet us there," Adam agreed reluctantly. "Let's hurry."

Jazz silently pulled back the slide of his gun, making sure it was loaded, and he closed his eyes, turning off his visor briefly too. He breathed evenly, steadily, slowly. In... out... in... out... He reactivated the visor, nodding at a blue-haired man on the opposite frame of the door to him. Jazz stood up and smashed the door in with his boot, leveling his gun at two more men in the room who looked thoroughly startled and apparently in the middle of a huge row. Adam and four others, including the blue-haired man, moved in before Donovan and Octane could react and draw their own weapons. Both fugitives were restrained quickly and efficiently, and Adam nodded in satisfaction.

Astro, though, didn't seem to like the idea of being restrained, and wriggled free of his captor and clocked him the jaw. Using the momentary stun to his advantage, he took off sprinting to the door. However, he didn't see Jazz move from his right to block the door and his path, stopping Donovan with a swift kick to the gut and a double-fisted drop punch to his back. A heel pressed right where fists had hit kept the man down while the blue-haired man cuffed him quickly, and a hand tossed something that looked like a remote swiped from Donovan's pocket up in the air.

"Yer gonna have t'do better than that t'get away from meh, Donovan," smirked Jazz. Astro's eyes widened at the sound of his voice.

"No way, man..."

"Well crap," was Octane's helpful reply.

"Weren't expectin' meh, were yeh?" The African-American's smirk widened. "Nice job guys, thanks. Raji, Byron, can yeh get these two back t'th'station? I've got a few questions t'ask 'em." Jazz gestured out, and the blue-haired man hauling Donovan to his feet nodded at the same time a man with red hair and a ponytail voiced his agreement while pushing at Octane.

"I think we all do, Jazz," said Adam dryly, helping Raji with Donovan. The Egyptian man looked grateful; he wasn't really the strongest man on the force and didn't want another deck to his bruising jaw. Jazz grinned and turned to a blond man just getting off his phone, presumably to Orion to tell him they'd caught their fugitives.

"Hey Benji, c'mon, we're on driver duty."

"It's Ben or Benjamin, Jazz, not 'Benji'." The blond man frowned good-naturedly. "Honestly."

"They're not fun names. Can yeh get forensics in?" Jazz waved and disappeared out the door following Byron and Heath taking Octane away when Ben affirmed they were on their way. He had some rather difficult customers to deal with now.

"What was it, Donovan? Get tired o' workin' fer Morgan as lackeys 'n went lookin' fer more excitement?" Jazz pursed his lips in thought, and then grinned icily. "Yeh realize o' course that Russell probably knows what yeh did 'n he ain't happy 'bout th'attention it'll b' gettin' him. He'll b' after yeh. Both o' yeh."

Donovan just scowled, hard burgundy eyes following the lieutenant. Jazz didn't seem fazed by the lack of response, merely shrugged and leaned back against the one-way glass separating Orion and Byron from him and his interrogatee. "It ain't mah head that's on th'line, man. Yeh can talk or keep silent, ain't gonna change th'fact Russell's out fer blood."

Donovan's scowl turned to angered curiosity. "Man, you shouldn't talk. What the fuck are you doing working for the law? You get bored? I'm surprised they let you in, Foxtrot. You're a gang-runner, always will be."

"An' believe meh when I say those skills have come in real handy since," Jazz shot back. "I ain't gone by Foxtrot in years. It's Lieutenant Miles now, Donovan."

"You did your best work alone, Foxtrot. What changed?"

"I got a partner 'n one o'th'best friends I've had in a long, long time, that's what." Jazz's hands slammed down on the table. "Dammit Donovan! What did yeh need th'money fer? Russell was hardly skimpin' in expenses!"

"You realize Octane's hidden a fair amount of the nitroglycerine and has it wired to blow on a remote command, right?" Donovan raised an eyebrow, dancing around the question.

"Oh, yeh mean this I pickpocketed off yeh 'n disabled?" The dreadlocked man pulled out the small device he'd filched off the other. Donovan's eyes narrowed. "Funny how it came from yer pocket 'n not Octane's," he stated conversationally to a quiet 'that bastard' from Donovan. "C'mon, man. This ain't yer style."

There was a pause. "It's always the same stuff," Astro sneered, leaning over to Jazz. "We always do his dirty work, the work he doesn't want to sully his hands with. Lately he's been getting more and more obnoxious, and taking it out on us. Hard. We wanted to show him there were some of us who weren't willing to take his crap and could do something big on their own." The man snorted and tilted his chair back on two legs, facing away from the African-American. "He made it far too easy for us to get what we needed to pull it off, but Blitzwing decided he wanted out of the whole thing after the fucking heist and was prepared to fight us. He attacked us, I only shot him in self-defense and in non-lethal areas. I wanted to leave him, but Casey wasn't having that. He fucking murdered Blaze, man. We high-tailed it outta there to where you lot busted us. We were fighting over Blaze. I was telling him he shouldn't have killed him, Casey argued he would have ratted us all out and we'd all be dead." Astro shrugged.

"So tell meh, where's Russell?" Jasper lifted one hand from the table to a hip, leaning on the one still resting on the metal surface.

"He'll have moved by now," said Donovan. "But when I last saw him he was here." The man reached into his jacket, presumably an inside pocket, and pulled out a sheaf of papers which he slid across to Jazz. "I don't owe him anything. Tell him I said 'hi', would you Foxtrot?"

"As long as yeh stop callin' meh that." Jazz picked up the papers, studying them. They were brochures for a series of warehouses in an abandoned industrial district in Toledo, a few miles south of Detroit. "Thanks, Donovan." He was about to leave to go into the observation room, but stopped at the door handle and turned to face the gang leader. "Jus' outta curiosity, why?"

"Why what?"

"Why tell meh all this? Why b' so... amiable? Yeh hate meh, especially after all I put yeh 'n yer buddies through back in LA."

"Actually," snickered Astro, "I was the least concerned about you. I found your saboteur skills impressive; I certainly saw why they called you Foxtrot. I hated you because of what you did to my other trine members, not for anything you did to me."

Jazz was silent for a moment. "I'll put in a good word fer yeh, Astro. Dunno what help it'll b'." He walked out quickly, the man's words having unnerved him somewhat. To have someone who had tried to kill you for a good number of years of your life suddenly turn out so affable and helpful was extremely disconcerting. He moved swiftly into the observation room, where he met Orion and Byron, both with raised eyebrows.

"Foxtrot? Seriously, man?" Byron grinned. "That's frickin' awesome. Boss, why don't we get cool names like that?"

Orion shot his communications specialist an exasperated look. "Because we don't need them," he sighed. "Good work, Jazz." The lieutenant saluted briefly with two fingers tapping his forehead. "Now we just need to find out where Russell has parked himself if he's not in Toledo anymore."

"Mayb' I can get that info," said Jazz. The commissioner gave him a questioning look. "Look, yeh know I'm a former gang runner 'n yeh know I know how t'work th'underground. Why don' I go undercover? Russell's never seen m'face, 'n the only men o' his I know who have're either dead or sittin' in interrogation." He thumbed towards Astro and then to the room where Adam was probing Octane for answers. "I can get what yeh want, I jus' need a bit o' time."

"No," said Orion sharply. "It's far too dangerous, Jazz. I will not willingly put one of my men into that kind of peril."

"I've been in far worse situations, sir. I'm th'best shot we've got at locatin' Russell now Sides 'n Sunny are compromised 'n yeh slaggin' well know it." Jazz's expression turned mulish, arms folded across his chest.

"I've a good mind to suspend you for that insubordinate tone," snapped Orion tightly. Byron wisely stayed silent, blue eyes switching warily between the two men who now seemed to be in a battle of wills.

"But yeh won'," said Jazz softly. He took off his visor, room fading instantly to black. "I bet I can tell yeh more 'bout what's happenin' inside this building in th'nex' minute than ya could gather in an hour. I can tell yeh what yeh had fer breakfast this mornin', I can tell yeh yer weight, height 'n general fitness level jus' from hearin' yeh walk 'n move... hell, I can even tell yeh 'bout that girlfriend yeh have. Slim, pretty, likes Prada perfumes. Probably not one o' them girly-girls either, can look after herself." Jazz tilted his head to one side. "I see more in a few minutes than most people will ever do in their lives, sir. I can look after mehself in th'field."

When the African-American snapped the visor back in place, he found Orion's expression was slightly flabbergasted. "How on Earth did you work out about Elita?" he demanded.

"Ah, that's her name? Pretty. I like it." Jazz patted his commander's shirt. "I can smell her perfume on yer shirt. It's strong. An' I know fer a fact yeh don' have a sister. Yeh don' seem th'type t'go fer big girls who ain't got common sense 'n a good head on their shoulders."

Orion frowned and sighed in resignation. He certainly had made an interesting choice bringing Jazz onto the force, but he was still reluctant to thrust the dreadlocked man into the field like that, ask that much of him. He was about to say something when the door opened, and Adam walked in stiffly followed by Ben and Raji.

"Octane's not talking," he muttered. "Stubborn slagger's trying to make an impossible deal."

"That's alright, Prowl. We've got Donovan's confession." Orion nodded to the interrogation room, where Astro appeared to have fallen asleep on the table, head pillowed by crossed arms.

"It's not Prowl, it's Adam," said the detective shortly, hands settling petulantly on his waist. "So you mean to tell me I've just wasted a good half hour trying to get something - anything - from Octane when you had everything? Thanks for the memo."

"Sorry, Prowler. I woulda come told ya had I not been delayed." Jazz shot the commissioner a look, and Orion glared in response. Before Adam could say anything more, he spoke up.

"Alright, lieutenant. The briefing room, tomorrow morning, 10am sharp. I'll have Alex Redding for security check-overs and briefing and Simon Cooper for tactical planning. No promises," he added as Jazz's face brightened at the prospect of his idea being accepted.

"Am I missing something?" asked Adam, looking unsure.

"Apparently Jazz is going underground," replied Byron, shaking his head so his white bangs swung gently around his face. "Wish him luck, he's gonna fragging need it."

Adam's eyes widened, and they turned to meet Jazz's slightly nervous, apprehensive visage. His partner noticed and it vanished as he threw him a reassuring grin and a wink and disappeared out of the room with Byron, leaving the remaining officers to deal with their captives.

"For the last time, Jazz, it's way too dangerous! You can't!" Adam grabbed Jasper by the arm, halting him in his steps to the kitchen. The darker man turned to face him, a mixture of emotions adorning the handsome face.

"I ain't like I'm overly thrilled 'bout th'thought either, Prowler, but I'm th'best fer th'job! We all know it! Now that Sides 'n Sunny're outta th'picture, we need information on Russell if we're gonna take him down 'n fer that we need someone who knows th'underground. Who else d'yeh know was a former gang-runner?" Jazz held Adam's gaze steadily, but sadly, and Adam slowly let go.

"I just hate the idea of you putting yourself voluntarily in that much danger." The detective followed his partner into the kitchen. "Passionately."

"That much?" Jazz sounded surprised as he rummaged through the brunette's cupboards looking for a couple of mugs and something to make drinks from.

"Yes and the one above the microwave," added Adam. Jasper found and opened the cupboard, snatching up two mugs, the coffee tin and an herbal tea teabag.

"How come yer that adverse t' it?" Jazz plonked the bag into one of the mugs and two teaspoons of coffee into the other, then filled up the kettle with water to boil.

"I... don't know," said Adam plaintively as Jazz clicked the kettle on. "I just am."

"Worried 'bout meh? That's sweet, Prowler." Jazz grinned and placed a comforting hand on the other's shoulder, though whether it was for Adam's sake or to ease his own apprehension was unknown to him.

The older man tolerated the hand for a minute, and then he slipped it off, interweaving their fingers and pushing the smaller lieutenant against the counter, eliciting a 'meep'. Adam's free hand came up and gently unhooked Jazz's visor, rendering him blind with a light gasp. Fingers traced the high cheekbones, smooth skin, full lips, and Jasper leaned into them as his golden eyes slid closed.

Adam couldn't resist and finally gave into the nagging temptation that he'd tried to push to the back of his mind. He bent forwards and pressed his lips to Jazz's. He could sense his partner's astonishment at the bold move, but at the same time he could sense something else, and that's when he found himself being kissed back with something akin to relief. Slim arms found their way around his neck, and Adam's own tried to pull Jazz in closer, ignoring the fact it was physically impossible.

A tilt of the head, a curious nibble of a dark bottom lip, and suddenly Adam's tongue was engaged in a hot, wet tango with Jasper's and he'd be damned if the lieutenant wasn't a fantastic kisser. An appreciative, almost musical groan sounded from Jazz, making a thrill run through Adam that he was the cause of that sound. He tugged roughly on a couple of the black dreadlocks, forcing Jazz's head upwards even more. Hands fisted into the back of his shirt collar as the tango was abandoned in favor of exploration.

When they parted reluctantly, both were breathing hard and wanting more. Even Jazz's golden eyes were misted in lust and hunger. He managed a trademark bright, yet wonky, grin.

"Felt like yeh really wanted t'do that," he said, voice wanton.

"Oh believe me, I did." Adam cupped a cheek lightly, brushing his thumb under an eye that seemed to looking right into his own. They were reflecting everything he was seeing, and more besides. "I really did." He leaned forwards again, this time latching onto Jazz's neck and nipping seductively. The darker man whimpered, tilting his head back to expose more skin to the brunette, then yelped as canines bit down hard enough to bruise. Some light suckling eased the flare of pain, leaving behind a raised ring that marked Jazz as his.

"Jesus, Prowler..." Jazz's voice had lowered, becoming a lot more husky. Adam found it intoxicating, and shifted his hips against Jasper's to try and wrestle another of those wonderful mewls out of the lieutenant. It worked, another shift turning it into a strained, needy groan.

"Bedroom, now," growled the detective, and heard no complaints from the younger man as they stumbled, still trying to keep that delicious friction and contact, towards Adam's room.

"So you're telling me," growled Morgan slowly, barely contained rage making his voice waver slightly, "that they are currently in police custody and Blitzwing is dead?"

"Yes my Lord. It seems our resident reconnaissance officers weren't who they said they were and told the police where to find them." Thane didn't flinch when his leader let out a howl of fury and slammed his fists down on his desk, but the intensity of Morgan's fuming gaze made him unable to meet it.

"Samuel." At the crime lord's voice, his information specialist seemed to materialize from the shadows. "Get them. I don't care how you manage it, I want them dead. Yesterday."

"Of course, Lord Morgan." Samuel bowed and vanished once more, and Morgan's attentions snapped back to Thane.

"I'm highly displeased. I thought I could count on you." The hatred in Morgan's voice at that moment nearly made the assault specialist shudder. "First my gang trine and now my reconnaissance twins."

"It won't happen again."

"Get out." Russell waved a curt hand dismissively, and Thane stalked out after a small incline of his head. The crime lord let out another enraged noise. Did he have any competent soldiers he could rely on?