"Malloy", after eleven years on the LAPD, it was second nature for Pete to answer a late night call with his last name. No one ever calls to chat at two in the morning.

"Pete, sorry to wake you. I hope I didn't wake Sally too." Sally, who had elbowed Pete awake to answer the phone, tugged the covers up, rolled over and was already trying to go back to sleep.

"Don't worry about it, Mac." Pete got out of bed and was heading out the bedroom door. "She's used to late night calls; besides, she woke me up so she didn't have to answer." He closed the door before continuing to speak. "What's wrong?"

The sergeant hemmed and hawed. "I'm not sure that anything is really wrong, per se."

"It's two in the morning Mac. You aren't calling me in to work, so cut the stalling, please." Deep down, Pete already had a bad feeling that this was about his partner. Not that he thought Jim had been physically hurt, just…

"Jean Reed called a few minutes ago, looking for Jim. He called her earlier to say that he'd be home over an hour ago." MacDonald paused, leaving Pete to come to his own conclusions.

"What happened between the time he called Jean and his leaving the station?" Pete knew that Jim would call him if something happened unless it had something to do with the two of them.

"I couldn't lie to him Pete."

The tone of Mac's voice said it all; everything was crashing down and Pete blamed himself; sighing, he leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes barely hearing what Mac was saying. "He looked at me with such hope in his eyes, wanting me to tell him that things would be like they were six months ago. When I explained it to him, he walked away without saying anything. I'm sorry. What else could I do?"

"Nothing. You did the right thing Mac. I should have been blunter with him weeks ago. I'll take care of it." Pete ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. There was only one thing to do: Go find his partner.

O~O~O

The building had a stately manner to it. It was an old Grange hall that had been resurrected as a church. Not that Pete frequently visited the old building, but he had been there a dozen or so times in the last five years; the first time being Jimmy's baptism. Then it had been daylight and the stain glass windows shown brightly but now, the dim light in the church reflected through them on the front steps and the very dejected man sitting on them.

Pete pulled in front of the steps, rolled down the window and called to his friend. Jim's response was to yell at him to go away; that he didn't want to talk to anyone, especially him.

"I know, get in anyway." The passenger door to the blue mustang opened up.

"Go away, you rat." Knowing he deserved that and much worse, Pete got out of the car, shut the passenger door, and walked to the base of the steps.

"Is that the best you've got? I've been called worst than that by nuns." He stood in front of his partner, arms wide open. "Take your best shot. I deserve it."

"I can't. Just leave me alone, you snake." Jim half stood, then sat back down. Pete was in the way and as mad as he was, he wouldn't risk hurting his friend by trying to get past him.

"A snake? What are we, second graders? How about bastard instead?" Of course, he said it with a hint of a grin.

"Pete! We're in a church. You can't say that!"

"No, we're not. We're outside one, but if you want, we can go in and you can call me a bastardis." Pete chuckled as he took two steps up the stairs before Jim stood up and blocked him.

"Typical, making jokes. It's your answer to everything." As Jim tried to get past him, Pete grabbed his friend's arm, holding him back.

"What do you want me to say, other than I'm sorry that I wasn't honest with you about our future?"

"It's a start."

The pain Pete saw in Jim's eyes almost made him let Jim leave, but that would only make matters worse. Instead, he took a seat, strong arming Jim to sit next to him on the steps.

"I am sorry, I should have prepared you, but I kept hoping that you would realize it on your own. I gave you enough hints." Pete let go of Jim's arm, turning to face him. "I made you a training officer. Why didn't you figure it out?"

"I don't know. I kept hoping you'd get well enough to get back to patrol…I couldn't admit it because…" Jim's voice trailed off leaving Pete to finish the sentence."

"Because God isn't that cruel. Isn't that what you said to me that night in the hospital?" Most of those early weeks in the hospital were a blur, but that conversation stuck with him. The fact that Jim punched the concrete wall might have had a hand in making the night memorable.

"Yes, he isn't …supposed to be…but…"

They finally got to the part that Pete had been dreading. His friend was a man of faith; it was evident in everything that he did. Pete, not so much. His experiences had led him to having more questions and fewer answers. Maybe if he had tried more to keep his boyhood faith it would have been different. The one thing he was sure of was that he didn't want this to damage Jim's faith.

"It's not cruelty at all. I expected to die that day in your backyard; I made that choice. It's called free will and it is a gift.

The fact that you and Jimmy are safe and I'm still alive is what matters. Maybe I can't work patrol anymore, but that isn't a punishment. It's what was coming anyway. They let us stay partners longer than most and that's what counts."

"I guess I shouldn't be mad at you when I didn't want to see it either." Jim paused, wanting to ask the next question, but not sure that he wanted the answer. "Larry asked me what he was; is he my partner."

"Right now, he's your rookie. When he gets off probation he might be your partner, but that doesn't mean we're the same. I've ridden with a lot of partners, but there is only one that I call "Partner". Are we square on that?" Never one to get too emotional, it was as close as Pete would probably get to actually telling Jim what their friendship means to him.

The grin on Jim's face said he got the message.