First, many, many thanks for all the wonderful feedback I've gotten for the last two chapters. It's very much appreciated.

In a strange turn of events this one ended up being shorter than the last. Which is odd because it was much easier to write. I just couldn't find anything else for Julio to say.

This one takes place during "Under the Influence" (2x03). Specifically, it occurs between them finding out that suspect and car owner are mother and son, and the return of the car to the owner.

The Trophy

Detective Sanchez

It was weird.

Not as weird as the so-called "Modern Art" in the Captain's office, but it was definitely weird.

Why would the Lieutenant keep it on his desk where he could see it all the time?

Julio looked away from the trophy and went back to filling out the never-ending paperwork required for him to dress up like a tow truck driver and deliver a car filled with molding clay and cameras.

Every 't' had to be crossed. Every 'i' dotted. Or the Captain would call him into her office and very calmly explain to him the importance of properly filling out paperwork before having him redo it. The Chief never did that with him. He'd stared doing a better job of filling out the paperwork though when he noticed that some of his was missing and replaced with paperwork filled out in the Chief's handwriting.

That was weird too.

The Captain didn't fix other people's mistakes.

Julio sighed and glanced back up at the trophy.

The Captain wasn't all bad though. She'd figured out that their suspect and their car owner were mother and son by their last names before he did.

While not exactly impressive, it was more than to be expected.

He looked back at the paperwork when he heard the familiar click of heels.

"How are things progressing, Julio?" She paused near the Lieutenant's desk.

"Just fine, ma'am." He purposefully crossed a 't.'

"Good." The murder room was empty except for the two of them. She sat down at Amy's desk directly across from him.

He continued doing his paperwork.

"I overheard Jason's version of events from this morning," she said conversationally. "I'm hoping he was exaggerating."

He dotted another 'i.'

"Did you threaten to kill the suspect's dog? And to arrest his wife without just cause? And use excessive force?"

He looked her directly in the eyes. "I did not use excessive force. Ma'am."

She was silent for a moment. "I see."

He returned to the paperwork.

"Julio, I want to be perfectly clear here. There has been no complaint. This is not an official reprimand. No disciplinary actions are going to be taken. This is advice from someone who spent most of her adult life working with Professional Standards."

He looked up.

She looked back seriously.

He waited.

"You know the rules in regards to interrogation practices. You know the policies. It is imperative that you follow those regulations, Julio." She paused and glanced at the trophy on Provenza's desk before looking back at him. "I need you to be on this team. Your expertise is crucial to this department. However, it is also necessary that this department be above reproach. We must fully comply with all the rules and regulations, and ultimately it is my responsibility that to ensure we do just that."

Julio wondered how it would go over if he rolled his eyes. Since this was merely "advice."

"Your methods may be effective in an interrogation room," she continued as though she didn't know what he was thinking. "However, they jeopardize not only the individual case, but the integrity of this department. And potentially every case you've ever worked in your entire career."

That gave him pause. "Ma'am?"

"If someone ever complains, and IA finds sufficient cause to take serious disciplinary action-such as suspension or termination- then every case you've ever worked will be suspect. Lawsuits will follow. It will be you that Goldman or another lawyer like him is after, and I won't be in Internal Affairs to protect you. I'll be here. Shorthanded, and with the integrity of this department to consider. I won't be able to help you if it comes to that, Julio."

He stared at her.

The Captain's eyes were pleading with him to understand.

"I will…" he paused considering his words, "take your advice under consideration, ma'am."

The captain nodded glancing briefly at the trophy. "I hope so, Julio. I never want to be the one who has to read you your rights."

He hesitated. "I never want to hear you read them to me."

Her smile was easier. Friendly. It looked good on her. "Then we're on the same page."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Thank you." She stood up, smoothing down her dress. With her head she indicated the form he'd just finished filling out and was setting aside. "Please make sure you've filled out Section 4 on the back before turning it over to me."

His hand froze. He lifted the paper just enough to see that there was no writing on the back. Damn. He glanced up at her.

The Captain's smile was knowing.

She was impossible.

Thoughts?

This one wasn't as funny as the last two. In fact, it was a bit sad. How'd you feel about that?