Crowley opened his eyes and groaned at the sudden intake of light. He struggled to remember why he was here, he remembered the bank, the shooter, the person firing the gun and the incredible pain that followed. But everything after was slightly hazy although it had been blurred out in his mind. He took to looking around the room, instead of trying to remember what he obviously couldn't. He saw Gilan with his head resting on his arms, sitting in a chair, his torso stretched across the edge of the bed. Also Will's friend Horace, he was a good kid, crashed out, sprawled across two chairs by the door. On the other side of him was his best friend Halt and in his arms a curled up Will, head resting against Halts chest. He smiled to himself, they must have all fallen asleep here last night. Crowley couldn't wait, he reached out and tapped his friend lightly on the hand and watched the dark eyes flutter open. He saw the relief in the small smile on Halt's face. He gently rubbed Will's arm, "Hey Will, look who's awake." he said softly but loudly enough to wake his adoptive son up. Halt was only that soft with Will and Gilan, who was basically his son at this point and the red head still remembered how he had watched his friend care for them both when they were sick or unwell. They were a little family and he counted himself lucky enough to be in it.

Everyone had rushed around him once they woke up and saw that he was awake. Halt had filled him in on what happened at the bank so his memory was no longer as hazy although there were sections that his friend didn't know about so those remained blurred. There were many hugs and even a few relived tears, mostly from Will, in which Crowley basked in the happiness radiating off his friends. Halt visited most days which meant that because Will and Gilan had to cover his shifts at the shop or at the station, they visited less but Crowley didn't mind, he was simply happy that one person had the time to visit him, he didn't need a crowd. One Tuesday evening he and Halt were sitting in his hospital room, eating McDonald's he had brought from the store down the road because everyone knows that hospital food is just disgusting, and were sitting in companionable silence when his friend asked him a question. "Do you remember the day we met?" His green eyes locked with the suddenly solemn dark brown ones.

"Of course, remember it like it was yesterday." He stirred his chip in ketchup before putting it in his mouth.

"When you were shot, they said there might be a chance you lost too much blood and," he exhaled sharply. "And you may not wake up. I kept thinking that you would wake up, that you had to because it would be way to poetic if our friendship ended the way it began." He chuckled slightly,

"Yes too poetic indeed."

Crowley was on the night shift and it was a simple stakeout, wait in the car, follow the vehicle, call the rest of the officers who were waiting around the corner and wait for backup. But they had received misinformation about the destination and the backup team had taken to long to arrive so the newly graduated officer found himself in a dark alleyway about to get the jump on a simple thief all alone with no help.

It was a crisp November evening and Crowley cursed the cold for making his breaths visible against the shadows he was trying to conceal himself in. The door to the pub opened and a man walked out, he had a large briefcase and was of tall but wiry structure so he had trouble following him as he made for an alleyway down the side road next to the pub. He swerved in and around many drunks but never letting the man out of his sight. Gerald was his name and he had stolen a diamond necklace off Mrs Mudgly who lived in the old ladies home near the centre of town. Crowley didn't notice that the alleyway had come to a stop before it was too late. The man turned around and although his figure was not very threatening, the dangerous spark in his sea blue eyes was. He had high cheekbones which gave him an almost manic look and messy dark locks that stuck out in all directions. His gaze drifted to where he was fiddling with something in his hand, a gun. Crowleys heart dropped he did have his gun but the man would surely never allow him to draw it, less he risk becoming a dead body. He started forwards suddenly and knocked the attackers hand so the gun fell onto the floor. He punched the man in the jaw and in return got a punch to the shoulder. Crowley tried to ignore the flaring pain as he swung another punch and managed to knock the thief out, but only for a few seconds. He used that precious time to rummage in the briefcase, producing an expensive looking diamond necklace. The man, clearly still dazed from when when he hit his head against the wall as a result of Crowleys blow to the stomach, reached for the gun, eyes locked on the red head who was storing his spoils form his last robbery safely, and he shot.

The officer fell backwards on impact and was met with searing pain in his left shoulder, the world blurred but he could just about make out the shadowy figure of someone hitting something over the attackers head, knocking him out cold. The figure rushed towards him and as he got closer he could make out scruffy dark hair and dark brown eyes, they looked almost black and a stubble of a beard to accompany it. "Damn," he heard the soft Irish accent and looked into the mans eyes.

"I'm Crowley," his voice was strained slightly.

"I'm Halt, ordinarily I'd hope we'd meet under better circumstances." he laughed at that which brought a slight smile to Halts previously blank expression.

"Yea, its no fun being shot. Have you ever been shot?" he knew he was talking nonsense but he was too tired to care and had probably lost too much blood to talk normally anyway. Halt took of the jumper he was wearing and pressed it against the wound. Crowley hissed in pain.

"Sorry, you got backup nearby."

"Yea, wait can you handcuff-"

"Don't worry I've already done it, he wont be going anywhere anytime soon."

"But you-"

"I'm joining your precinct, transferring from Ireland." so he was right with the accent. "My first day's tomorrow."

"Hm, I like you, wanna be friends?" Crowley's words sounded distant and muddled to his own eyes but before he blaacked out, he heard the faint response of,

"I'd love to."

"Did you really expect me to die on you last night?" Crowley asked his friend who was refusing to meet his eyes.

"I don't know Crowl, you scared me."

"Halt look at me." the fear in his friends eyes was all too real. "C'mere," he shuffled over and patted the space next to him, watching Halt set his burger down and sit next to him, putting his head on his shoulder. Crowley rested his head on Halt's.

"I missed you Crowley,"

"I missed you to Halt, hey that was my chip!" he turned to face his friend, a mock hurt expression on his face, but Halt just merely smiled.