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Here's a few bits and pieces of the murder/mystery AU fic I've been working on every so often. I really don't know about this one. I really want to finish it up, but I can't get myself to write more on it. I think I posted this part up on my LJ, but I'm not sure.

“That’s it. I’m going home,” Bobby said, jerking the door to their office closet open. He snatched his jacket and closed the door with a slam. Kate watched from her perch on top of his desk as he tried twice to jam his arm into the sleeve of the coat, but failed both times.

“Don’t let him get to you like this,” she started. Bobby stopped her by holding out a hand.

“Oh please. You’re just as pissed as I am, if not more. Don’t go telling me what to do.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I am pissed. Who does this guy think he is, just coming in here and telling us we’re barking up the wrong tree? We’ve worked hard on this case and he just comes in and tells us we’re doing our jobs wrong.” Kate was seriously steamed, for the most part it was Logan’s attitude that got her upset. “But you don’t see me slamming doors or anything, do you?”

“No, because you’re Cool Kate.” Bobby looked at his jacket and draped it over his desk chair.

Kate leaned back against the desk and stared at him. “Damn straight. Now don’t let him know he’s getting to you.” Bobby rolled his eyes and sketched her a mock salute.

“I think I am gonna head on home anyways. It’s already seven and I‘m beat,” he said, raising his arms over his head and letting out a loud yawn.

“Big baby. How are you getting home?”

“Well, I was going to use this as an excuse to get you out of the station at a decent hour, but I guess not. I’ll hitch a ride with somebody or grab a cab.” He reached for his jacket and draped it over a shoulder. “I know you hate this guy’s guts on principle alone, but let’s cut him a little slack.”

Kate leaned back and stared at her partner. “Wasn’t it you that just finished putting a crack in the plaster by the closet? Give him some slack? What the hell?”

“I dunno. Like you said, we shouldn’t let him get to us. We both know we’re damn good at our job and we’re on home turf. This guy’s here from way out in the boonies. The only thing he’s got is his boss’ word that he’s as good as we are and he’s trying to back that claim up.” Bobby shrugged. “It’s a typical male thing; we act like assholes on instinct to get people’s attention and then have to deal with it.”

“So you’re suggesting he’s acting like a major league jerk just to get some sort of even footing with us?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Kate shook her head. “And that is why, Bobby, you became a cop instead of a psychologist.”

“Hey, we do what we do best, right?” he asked, putting his hands up in a defensive posture.

“I guess. See you later.”

Going out the door, Bobby paused and turned around. “You never said if I could borrow your ’Stang for my date, you know.”

“I thought your date got cancelled three weeks ago.”

Bobby straightened his tie and put his nose in the air. “Of course not. She’s dying to go out with me. It’s my charming personality at work.”

“You have a charming personality? How come it never comes out then?” Bobby narrowed his eyes at her playfully and waved her off.

“Oh ha ha. Good night, LeBeau. Don’t stay too late.”

“Yes, mommy.” Bobby’s laugh echoed down the hallway. Sighing to herself, Kate hopped off the desk and made a beeline towards the long table where she had organized crime scene files sitting. Starting with the first one, she was determined to scrutinize it until she found a link between them all that would give them a break in the case.

Two hours later found her still pouring over reports, a yellow legal pad filled with hastily scribbled notes beside her. So far, the only thing that linked the three murders together were that they were so alike it confirmed them being done by the same person. Yet each scene was completely devoid of any physical evidence; no hair samples, no fingerprints, no semen traces, no nothing.

“Petey, I wish you were here to help me out on this,” she whispered, glancing up at the file cabinet where a five by seven photo of her late partner stood. He just smiled out at her from behind the frame with that lopsided grin he had as if to say he wished he were there too. The difference between him and Bobby were like night and day; Peter would have burned the midnight oil with her at the station until both of them got kicked out, then they would have headed on over to either of their apartments to study the clues until both of them passed out from exhaustion. Not that Bobby was a bad partner, on the contrary. Bobby just knew there was a stopping point in the day and didn’t take his work home with him all the time. He worked his shift and was damn good at what he did, no complaints from Kate there. It was just that she missed Pete’s presence, missed glancing over and seeing him so intent on his work that he didn’t realize he was making those little ‘hrmmm’ sounds at the back of his throat, missed his booming laugh when something tickled his funny bone. She just missed him, plain and simple, and with him only being gone for the better part of four months made their tiny office seem huge without his larger than life personality.

Reaching over for her mug of coffee, she grimaced as she tasted the cold contents. She had gotten the bottom-of-the-pot sludge from her and Bobby’s personal coffeemaker, and the grainy leftovers tasted horrible. Making a face, she gave the going nowhere files a sad glance and headed for the break room where she knew somebody always kept the carafe half-full.

“Kinda late, don’t you think?” a deep voice said behind Kate as she swallowed the last dregs from her coffee mug. She turned around to find Nick refilling his cup.

Leaning against the counter, Kate shrugged. “It’s only nine. Not late at all. I’ve still gotta go through a few files, see what’s up with this case.”

Nick leaned next to her. “It’s late, LeBeau. You got here way before I did this morning, probably didn’t go to sleep the night before because you had the case files at your apartment, and if I don’t take them away from you tonight, you’re going to do the same thing all over again.” That was another thing about him. He could read people like a book. Granted he knew all about her perfectionist tendencies, but he had an uncanny knack for saying things in a complaining tone of voice when he was actually concerned. Last week he had bitched about how she wasn’t eating right. ‘If you drop any more pounds, the department is gonna haveta buy you a new uniform. Do you know how much paperwork that is for me? Why don’tcha grab something to put some meat on them bones of yers? That place on West Forty Fourth’s got some mean barbecue, I tell ya true.’ She hadn’t felt like reminding him that she had been a plainclothes detective for quite some time now, but his heart had been in the right place.

“Okay, okay. I’ll go home. Jeez, you sound like my dad.”

Nick chortled lightly and drank his coffee. “Well, somebody needs to look out for ya. You’re going to wear yourself down to nothing, looking for empty clues. Take a breather, if only for a day. Katie, this case don’t have nothin’ to do with your serial.” He said the last very quietly, his hard edged voice going soft. “Don’t go looking for ghosts, or else you just might come up with one. I don't wanna see you have a ner-" Fury clamped his mouth shut, suddenly aware he was treading on the lady's very personal business. "Well, I mean… Look, once was enough, got me?”

“But this case, it looks just like the Mastermind one. The vic…”

Nick cut her off with a wave of his hand. “True, the victims fit that one’s MO, but remember, you got the guy. He was working alone, so there’s not any chance of an accomplice coming back to continue what he started.”

“This could be a copycat though.”

“Yeah, and that’s why I brought in Logan. He’s worked with tons of cases like this, he knows a copycat from the genuine article here.”

Kate frowned and narrowed her eyes. “I don’t like him. He’s an overconfident, cocky sonofabitch.” That made Nick’s eyebrows raise up. Logan must have rubbed her the wrong way when they had been looking over evidence. By the bad mood Drake had been in all afternoon, it was safe to say the newcomer ticked him off as well. The new information made him wary to ask Kate what he was going to ask her, but it was the only practical choice he had.

“LeBeau, you live close, don’tcha?” Nick asked, looking at her from over the rim of his coffee mug. Yep, something had happened between his favorite detective and their new guest. It wasn’t his business, but that didn’t make him any less curious about it. He watched as she gave him a silent glare, knowing what was going to come next.

“Yeah. Over on West tenth and seventh.” She sounded wary, like she was giving out too much information.

“Good. There’s an apartment open, right?” Ooh, he knew that ‘go to hell’ look she was giving him. Made all the times she was a pain in his ass worthwhile. He returned it with his own one eyed glare.

“I don’t know. Last time I heard it was still open, but that was at least a month ago. Greenwich Village property gets grabbed up pretty fast, you know.”

“Yeah, I do know. Thing is, this precinct has been keeping that apartment open for specialists, so they won’t have to shell out the cash for hotels. You’ll show Detective Logan to his place, won’t you?” The way he said it made the question more like an order. Kate’s shoulders sagged slightly, but it was the only visible evidence of her emotions.

“Sure thing, Boss,” she said with mock cheerfulness, rinsing out her mug in the sink and sticking it back on the mug tree by the coffeemaker. Nick noticed this month her mug read ‘I have PMS and a handgun. Piss me off, I dare you.’

“Hey Katie,” he said, fishing for the cigar that had a permanent spot in his suit jacket. Turning, she glanced over her shoulder.


“Don’t piss this guy off. He’s the best at what he does and we need him for this case.” Rolling her eyes, Kate leaned against the doorframe.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll play nice.” She gave him a fake, hundred watt smile that matched the saccharine tone of voice.

“That’s what I’m worried about. Have a good day off. And I mean it. Anybody sees you here at the station, you get your ass thrown back to your apartment. Have some fun, for crissakes.” She waved at him and left the break room. Chewing on the end of his cigar stub, Nick leaned against the counter. He wondered just how long it would take for Kate’s temper to get the best of her. Knowing what a short fuse she had, he bet that by the end of tomorrow evening the fur would fly between her and Logan.

Kate stalked through the parking lot, keys to her car jangling in hand. She knew she didn’t like the new cop’s attitude; he came waltzing in like he owned the place, took one look at their work so far and deemed it unsatisfactory, then had the nerve to insult her. She bit back an unladylike snort. He probably didn’t even realize he had insulted her. He seemed like the macho man extraordinaire. And now she had to play chauffer to him this evening.

She found said macho man leaning against the hood of her car, arms crossed and lit cigarette hanging off his lip. Okay, so he was a prime specimen of male beefcake, but leaning against her baby like he owned it definitely kicked off whatever brownie points he still had in her opinion.

“Nice car,” he said, grinding out his smoke with the heel of his shoe.

“I don’t have room in the trunk for that,” she said flatly, eyeing his suitcase and duffel bag. She unlocked both doors and didn’t offer to put his things in the back seat. He frowned at her, but got in the passenger seat, piling the suitcase at his feet and his bag on his lap. They drove in silence, the radio still on the talk-show station Bobby had put it on when Kate had picked him up that morning. Neither of them seemed to want to switch it, so they were stuck with listening to some psychiatrist talk about fear of commitment. Her apartment complex was only a block and a half away from the station, and she usually walked to work, but that morning she had to pick up Bobby when his car broke down for the umpteenth time. He really needed to get rid of that hunk of junk, but it had been his first car and he was highly sentimental about it.

Parking in her usual spot in the garage, Kate locked the car and went inside the apartment complex. She loved her place. It had a very colonial feel to it, and with it being so close to the police station, the crime rate wasn’t terribly high. Not that she felt like she could leave her windows unlocked while she was gone, but there wasn’t a trace of graffiti on the outside walls or unsavory characters lurking in the shadows. Neat cobblestone walkways were lined with shrubs and trees, the neighborhood was good, and its residents were not too noisy. The lobby was cozy. The office manager gave her a nod as she went through, Logan in tow. She preferred using the staircase to the elevator, just because it gave her a chance to run four flights of stairs and an excuse to work out when the weather was bad outside. But she was with somebody who she didn’t want to sound out of breath with, so she opted for the elevator.

They walked down the hall and Logan fished out a key from his pocket. Unlocking the door, he looked at her. “You don’t have to walk me in,” he said gruffly. She could tell he was angry by the ticking muscle at his jaw, but she didn’t give a damn. She didn’t like having to spend any more time with him than was necessary.

“I’m not walking you in," she replied curtly, going one door down and jamming her keys into the lock. “There’s always a taxi around before eight in the mornings, or you can walk to the station, whatever you feel like doing,” she added, going inside. Once there, she closed her door and slumped against it. She had no clue as to why that man irritated her, but he just rubbed her the wrong way. Dropping her purse on the kitchen table, she went over to the living area and checked her messages. The tape whirred for a while, one was a Mary Kay saleslady that wanted to give her a makeover, another was a reminder from the manager that the rent for the month was due, Bobby had called to ask about borrowing her car for the date he had with ‘Miz Braddock’, and the last message was from her dad.

“Chere, I know you’re a big time detective, but dat don’t mean you get to forget your family. Give me a call once and a while to let me know you’re still breathing. Remy says hello and wants you to come spend some time at his newest casino. I say go, get out of dat apartment you have yourself locked up in. Go spend money, have a time wit your brother. Ah well. Got to go. Je t’aime, ma petite princesse.” She smiled at that one. No matter how old she got, she was still her daddy’s little girl. At thirty-two, she was still as much Jean-Luc LeBeau’s little princess as she had been when she was five.

Stretching her arms over her head, she heard her spine snap and pop. Nine thirty. She kicked off her shoes and wiggled her stocking clad toes on the cold linoleum of her kitchen as she perused the list of take-out restaurants tacked up to her wall. She settled for dialing up her favorite pizzeria and ordering a medium pepperoni and mushroom pie with extra cheese. Digging through her fridge brought out an unopened can of Dr. Pepper, which she popped open and took with her as she went through her little living space.

Like the rest of the complex, she loved her suite. It was small, but not cramped. For eight hundred and seventy five dollars a month, it suited her. She had a pretty lenient landlord who let her paint and stick nails in the walls. The kitchen was nice, it had a stove and oven, both of which hardly ever saw any use. Kate wasn’t big on cooking things for herself. When Hank or Bobby came over, they usually were the ones that puttered around in the kitchen. When her brother Remy visited, he cooked up things she had only been able to get at her favorite restaurant the Great Jones Café, which served the best Cajun cuisine she had ever eaten north of Louisiana. There wasn’t much of an atmosphere to the place, but it was full of life from the tourists and college students that filled it on a regular basis.

The kitchen bled into the dining area that housed a wide rectangular table and matching chairs. She didn’t use it for eating when she was by herself, but for spreading out case files and working. She had a long metal sheet installed along one wall where she would tack up crime scene photos with magnets. It was a lot more convenient than tacking them up with thumb tacks, and it saved wear and tear on the wall in the long run. At the moment, there was a poem in the making in one corner, the rest of the Magnetic Poetry strips grouped together near the bottom of the sheet. If there was anything she excelled at, it was writing extremely horrible poetry. But she liked doing it all the same.

The living area was one of her favorite places to be in when she was at home. She didn’t have very much furniture, just the bare basics. The couch folded out into a sleeper whenever she had the odd guest, the TV had stacks of DVD’s lined up on the floor beside it. There was one bookshelf in the room that was crammed with an assortment of hardcover and paperback books from Stephen King to Nora Roberts and everybody in between. A punching bag was set up in a corner of the room where she worked out when the weather was bad or when her temper flared up. The building didn’t allow pets of the four footed kind, but it did allow pets of the gilled kind, as her aquarium showed. Three goldfish swam around, looking for leftover food in the blue pebbles at the bottom of their tank. The little aerator in the middle was a treasure chest that snapped open and shut every few seconds. The skeleton draped over it still had its eye patch and peg leg. She dubbed that one Captain Fury.

Going over to the far wall, she flipped on the stereo system. The soft sounds of Miles Davis suddenly flooded the room from the various surround sound speakers she had placed here and there. Flopping into the only other piece of furniture suited for sitting, she placed her can of soda on the end table and ran her hands over the arms of the chair. She loved that chair. It had been a sort of housewarming gift from Tante Mattie when she'd first got the apartment. Mattie wasn’t her aunt by blood, but she was her aunt nonetheless. Kate grew up in New Orleans surrounded by voodoo and magic, so when she found out Tante Mattie was a practitioner of the arts, it came as no surprise. Bobby might laugh and make light of people that claimed to be psychic, but Kate didn’t. There were way too many times in her life when something unexplainable had happened for her to be a skeptic. The armchair Tante Mattie had given her was covered in a dark red velvet that reminded her of Mattie‘s own living room where she and the woman spent many an hour together. Kate suspected Mattie had put some sort of gris-gris in the lining or something, because every time she sat in it, it was as if all her stress melted away and she was as relaxed as she had ever been. It was also the inspiration for the décor in the room; from the red paint on the walls to the light amber wood of the bookcase and TV console. One of her coworkers had given her the red and yellow beaded lampshade as a gag gift, but it turned out that it worked beautifully in the room in its spot on the floor lamp next to the chair. She had hung long white linen curtains along the windows that made up the fourth wall, and the one at the very corner acted as a step-up to the fire escape. Next to the windows was a radiator that gave her trouble sometimes, but it worked for the majority of the winter.

She turned her head at the sound of metal grating against metal. Logan must have opened the window in his place. Their apartments were so close that they shared the sort of balcony that made up the bridge to the fire escape stairs. She had put two medium sized potted plants out there to match with the colonial façade, but the narrow chaise lounge was pure New Orleans. At first glance, the wrought iron balcony had reminded her of home. It was a lot simpler than the intricate iron lacework she was used to seeing, but it had cemented the decision to rent the place for her. She heard him step out to look at the street below and didn’t move from her spot in her chair. She needed to get out of her work clothes, but the drawback to the apartment layout was that the two windows in her bedroom overlooked the balcony he was now prowling. She finally said the hell with it and rose from her chair, unbuttoning her blouse as she went. Her curtains were drawn, yet she could see the silhouette of a man leaning against the balcony rail. She quickly stripped out of her blouse and skirt and changed into a pair of slouchy yoga pants and a gray tank top. She gave her bedroom a once over. There was a pile of laundry that had overfilled the hamper and was currently spilling onto the floor in the corner, a tall bookcase that was just as filled as the one in the living room next to it. The bed took center stage, the rumpled sheets a reminder that she needed to get back into the habit of making the bed before she left for work in the mornings. A few art prints were hung on the walls, a poster from the ‘96 Mardi Gras taped to the closet door and just like the rest of her apartment, picture frames were scattered here and there. The small table against the windows had a blue glass vase filled with wilting daffodils on it and a smaller boom box with a collection of CD‘s stacked up nearby. The walls were a soothing pale green, which contrasted nicely to the red in the living room, which in turn looked pretty with the pale gold in the kitchen and dining area.

Ten minutes later the pizza guy knocked on her door, accepting the money for the pizza as well as a nice tip. He was a cute kid, kept on blushing as she paid him. Pizza box in one hand, a slice in the other, she went back to her living room and sat on the couch, laying the box on the coffee table. She grabbed the remote and surfed the cable stations for a while, finally deciding on a comedy she had seen hundreds of times before that still made her laugh. Leaning against the arm of the sofa, she curled her legs under her and sighed, trying to do what Nick had ordered her to do. She did need a breather from the case. Every time she looked at the files, she kept on seeing things that weren’t there. The victims’ names changed to those of the Mastermind killer, their faces looking out from every photo. Maybe Nick was right. You go looking for ghosts and you just might find one. She glanced from the screen to the pizza box to the half-opened bathroom door and decided that Monty Python would have to wait for another night and flipped off the television set. What she needed was a long, hot soak in a bathroom lit by candles followed by curling up in bed with a good book.

Logan sighed and gazed down at the street below. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the pack of cigarettes. He knew he should quit, Mariko had been harping on him to up until the night she died. It was the main reason he couldn’t bring himself to stop. If he stopped, then there wouldn’t be that memory of his wife’s face as she shook her head at him lighting up anymore.

He let out a small growl when he realized his lighter was in the pocket of his jacket, which was inside his new apartment. Keeping the unlit cigarette in his mouth, he turned to go back inside his place and rammed his foot against the potted plant beside the window. That brought his attention to his new neighbor’s apartment. The creamy white curtains didn’t look like they would belong to somebody like Detective Kate LeBeau. He had figured she would have metal blinds or nothing at all covering her windows. The jazz music coming through the glass didn’t match her work personality either. He thought that maybe she separated her work and casual life, but then again, no. By the afternoon that he had spent in her presence, he was certain that Kate took her work home with her every night and slept with her badge on.

Going back inside his apartment, he looked the place over. Initially, he had still been too pissed off to actually notice anything, but now that he was thinking a little clearer, he took in the details. It was a small space, the main room actually serving as a living room, dining room and kitchen. Each room was sparsely furnished with only the department-paid-for necessities. Thankfully that included a TV that had cable. There were two doors to the right which led to the bedroom and bathroom. He frowned as he stood in the bedroom, he could faintly hear music coming from the walls, this time it was U2. It occurred to him that the building layout was the kind where every two apartments shared bathroom lines, so it made sense to have one bathroom right up against the other. He made a mental note to see if they shared water sources, mainly by flushing his toilet when he next heard Kate’s shower turn on.

Unpacking his things, he shoved his regular clothing in the bureau drawers and hung his suits, slacks and shirts in the closet. A battered baseball cap landed on the thin table against the window and a pair of jogging shoes that had seen better days were placed under it. It didn’t look like much, but he wasn’t planning on making the apartment his own for very long.

The last thing he pulled out of his suitcase was a simple gold picture frame. He sat on the bed and ran his finger over the photograph inside. His wife. A pang of sorrow hit him as he stared at her lovely features. In the picture she was in the same spot he had first met her, Los Angeles’ botanical gardens. She was sitting on a stone bench, half her face was illuminated by the slanting sunlight, making her golden skin gleam. She was wearing one of her favorite dresses, a red sundress that had a yellow sash at the waist. Thinking back, it had been the same dress she had worn the day he had met her. Logan thought it was amazing that he could have had the luck to find someone like Mariko at a time in his life when he thought he’d never find anyone. Back then, he’d been ass deep in violent crime cases from rapes to murders and everything in between. Going day to day through it all was starting to wear him down to the point where he thought he’d never be able to see anything good in the world, anything soft and serene. Then he found her. From the moment he laid eyes on her, the first thought was of how beautiful she had been. Logan smiled a little, remembering that his first initial reaction to her had been “Wow.”

But now she was gone, and he was back to being ass deep in murder cases. Shaking the sudden wave of self-pity from him, he rose and went to the living room where he had spotted a telephone. Thinking how he should phone his boss first, he shrugged and dialed up a number he knew by heart. His mood lightened even more when the bubbly voice on the other end of the line picked up.

“Speak to me.”

“Don’t you know how to say hello anymore, darlin?” Logan asked, sitting on the arm of the couch.

“Logan! How’s the Big Apple?” The woman on the phone was Jubilation Lee, Logan’s best friend. The fact that he had a woman as a best friend didn’t phase him one bit, even when said woman was five years younger than he was. She was a gymnastics instructor down at the place he worked out at, and one conversation at the juice bar had told them that it was a start to a beautiful friendship. She teased him mercilessly about his long sideburns, telling him they made him look wolfish. That earned him the nickname ‘Wolvie’, but he had paid her back by dubbing her Jubilee, ‘Lee, and the infamous J-Lee. The last one had earned him a punch on the arm, but it had been worth it to see her outraged face at his teasing. It showed her that he could give back just as good as he got it, and then some.

Logan snorted and glared at the case files he had ‘borrowed’ from LeBeau’s desk. From what he had heard, she wasn’t coming into the office tomorrow, which would give him plenty of time to look them over and put them back where he had found them. “Dead bodies, tons of paperwork, people resenting outside help. The usual.”

“Oh, so the locals don’t want a big heap detective to come in and tell them their stuff, huh?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Especially this woman…”

Jubilee cut him off. “Woman? What does she look like?”

Logan rolled his eyes and sat on the couch cushions. He knew he was calling long distance, but he didn’t give a damn since the department was picking up the tab. “Average height, average build, dark hair and blue eyes. A real bitch on wheels too.”

“Oooh, sounds interesting. What did you do to piss her off?”

“Hey, I’d have thought you’d be on my side!” Logan growled into the receiver. All he got back was Jubilee’s laughter.

“Hon, you should know by now that I always side on any woman’s issue until I hear the whole story. Now, tell me how you met her.” Logan sighed heavily and told Jubilee how he had thought she had been one of the secretaries.

“So you go an’ give her the old ‘I want you’ stare, then stick your nose in her work. Oh, she has no reason to be bitchy,” Jubilee commented. Logan frowned, propping his feet on the coffee table.

“I’m just doing my job here.”

“Yes, and don’t take this the wrong way. I love you to death Wolvie, but when you’re in your Detective Mode, you tend to come off as a bit of a jerk. You don’t have any patience with ignorance and you want to get down to the bottom of things as fast and as efficiently as you can. It’s just that sometimes other people don’t see it that way.”

Logan sighed, knowing she was right. Thinking back, he knew he had been a little short with LeBeau and Drake, which wasn’t a really good way to get off on the right foot with the both of them. “So what should I do then?”

“Be the sweetie I know you are. Apologize for being an ass and go from there.” They talked for another hour or so before hanging up. With nothing better to do, Logan opened up the files that were sitting on the kitchenette table and started making notes. It was well into the wee hours of the morning when he finally got caught up with everything and headed to bed.

When Kate woke up, bright sunlight was streaming through her bedroom curtains and there was a loud knocking on the front door. Groaning, she dog eared the page of the romance novel she had fallen asleep on and got out of bed, cursing as her foot got tangled up in the sheets.

“I’m coming, I’m coming already,” she grumbled, pushing a hand through her hair. The clock on the wall told her it was nine in the morning. Upon opening the door, she found it was Bobby, balancing several boxes in his hands.

“I’ve brought you a present,” he said, coming in quickly and closing the door with his foot. “Nice look, by the way. The ‘just rolled out of bed with drool stains on my chin’ is sexy as hell.” Kate groaned and wiped at her mouth .

“What are you doing here, Bobby?” she asked, heading over to the kitchen table where her partner was pulling things out of a pizza box.

“I told Nick I wanted to see how you were doing, so I walked on over. On the way, I made a pit stop at the copy room. Knowing you, you’re going to go stir-crazy if you have to sit and do nothing all day long.” Kate glanced at the pizza box and saw there were copies of the case files, along with her original notes.

“And you hid them in a pizza box? Oh Robert, subterfuge at its finest.” She smirked at Bobby’s pleased expression.

“Hey, I didn’t watch all them James Bond movies and not learn anything from them,” he said, giving her a wink. “And speaking of movies, I brought you your cover. If Nick asks, you spent all day in front of your TV watching a Tarzan marathon. I told him I was going to bring them over to cheer you up.” To prove his point, Bobby waved several tapes in her face.

“You’re insane, you know that, don’t you?”

Bobby gave her a wide smile. “That’s why you love me so much, Katie. Now I’ve gotta get back before the new Golden Boy gets suspicious.”

Still working on another story that I had set today as a deadline for. It's probably not going to get to Yez to beta until tomorrow afternoon though. I'll post it up here later.

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