Logan POV

Another damn partner.

I've completely lost count of how many I've had, and I can't decide whether I should take it personally or not.

Fuck 'em, I decided.

Fuck 'em all.

I'm a good cop. I might not be sure about anything else about myself, but I know that to be true.

I'm a very good cop.

So the fact that Falacci decided to leave the NYPD and head off for Quantico surely isn't my fault.

Although it's not like I care anyway.

She and I never really clicked.

Of course, Wheeler and I hadn't exactly hit it off either, but after she left and I got saddled with Falacci, I started to miss Wheeler a little bit.

Ross said that she's coming back in a couple of months, so I figure I'll be working solo until then. And then I'll be working with her again.

Unless she requests someone else, which is always a possibility.

"Another drink, Mike?"

I gave the bartender a nod and drained the remaining drop of Jack from my glass before sliding it closer to him for a refill.

"Where's the lady-friend tonight?" he asked me.

"Which one?"

I haven't brought a date here in more than a month. I haven't had a date in more than a month. I'm kind of in a dry spell.

Surprisingly enough, I'm okay with that.

I'm starting to feel like maybe I'm too old to keep up the string of meaningless relationships. But at the same time, I'm not sure if I'm capable of getting a woman to want to hang around much past the morning after, so...I don't know. It's an odd time in my life, I guess.

"The red-head," the bartender clarified.

Falacci and I stopped by this place to have a drink, a few times during our partnership. Just to go over case notes or discuss strategy.

I never had more than one drink when I was around her because I got the feeling that she wouldn't mind getting me drunk and taking advantage of me.

I've only had one partner that I'd be okay with that scenario, and Falacci isn't the one.

So I shook my head emphatically at the bartender's misconception.

"She was a partner, not a girlfriend. I'm sort of…between women right now. Hell, I'm between partners, too."

It sounds pretty depressing when I say it out loud.

What's wrong with me that makes no one want to stick around? I mean, I know I'm damaged, but I guess I thought I was better at hiding it.

Apparently not.

I picked up the newly-filled glass and swirled the bronze-colored liquid. I don't like to drink alone, but it seems to be all I do anymore.

Every once in awhile, I'll get Goren to come out with me. We had a rocky start a few years back, what with him trying to pull my then-girlfriend into his investigation at that prison.

But Goren's a stand-up guy, and I've learned a lot from him since I joined MCS.

And he seems to attract bad luck about as much as I do, so maybe that's why we get along so well.

Well, that and the fact that I respect his relationship with Eames. I like to give her a hard time, but I've never asked her out. A blind man could see that Goren is in love with her, and I would never infringe upon another man's territory.

Ha. Eames would kick my ass from now 'til Sunday if she knew I'd referred to her as Goren's territory, but hey, it's a fact.

And he's hers as much as she's his, so that's not a bad thing.

Earlier, I called Goren to see if I could interest him in meeting me for a drink tonight. He was suspended recently so I figured he could use the pick-me-up.

But it didn't surprise me that he declined the offer. Not when I could swear I heard Eames' voice in the background.

And he was at home, so that makes things interesting.

He'll probably deny it until his dying day, but I know those two are sleeping together.

It doesn't take a genius to figure it out.

Obviously, that kind of thing is frowned upon by the powers that be, but still…it happens. If anyone needs a little light in their life, it's Goren, and I know that Eames is the only one who can bring it to him, so as far as I'm concerned, rules be damned.

I figure that this suspension thing is probably killing him. Hell, it's probably killing both of them, not being able to work side by side, day in and day out.

I know a little bit about the pleasure of working with the perfect person, the satisfaction that can be gained from getting to spend the better part of the day with someone who just gets you.

And I also know how much it sucks once that other person is gone.

As I finished off my drink, I heard the door open and I fought the urge to turn around. It's normally my habit to do so, but tonight, I don't really care who's coming in.

Besides, it's a cop bar. No criminal in their right mind would try to pull something here.

"Still coming to this rat hole, huh, Mike?"

When I heard her voice, I wished I had turned around when the door opened. That way I could've watched her walk across the room.

As it was, I forced myself to turn slowly so as not to seem overly anxious.

"Apparently so are you," I replied casually.

How my voice came out sounding so blasé, I have no idea because on the inside my heart is thundering like a herd of elephants.

"I came here looking for you."

She's looking for me? This can't possibly be real. I must have passed out and now I'm having this completely real-feeling dream.

Because in reality, Carolyn Barek would never come looking for me.

"Sit down. I'll buy you a drink," I told her, and then I turned to the bartender and added, "Another Jack for me. And a shot of Patron for the lady."

"Let's get a booth," Barek suggested as the bartender set the drinks down on the bar.

So I picked up the glasses and followed her to a booth along the darkened back wall. As I walked behind her, I didn't stop myself from fully checking her out.

She looks every bit as good as she looked a little over a year ago, which was the last time I saw her.

In fact, she looks better.

"Do I pass?" she asked me as she slid into one side of the booth.

"Pass?"

"Inspection," she replied in that sweetly soft voice. "You were lookin' at my ass."

"I…um…okay, yeah I was," I admitted. I'm not going to be embarrassed about it.

"And yeah, you definitely pass," I added with a grin.

She smiled back at me and I was struck again by how good-looking she is. She'd let her hair grow a little longer and her skin has a healthy glow, even though it's mid-December.

"You look pretty good, too," she said. "I'm glad I found you."

"How hard have you looked?"

"I've been in here a few nights this week. You're not living in the same place and you don't have the same number."

"You could've called Major Case. They haven't kicked me to the curb yet."

"Well, what fun would that be? It was more challenging this way."

"And?"

"And I wanted to see you in person. I was afraid if I called, you might not want to talk to me."

"You think I'm mad at you?"

Truth is I was mad. Hell, I was extremely pissed off.

And devastated.

And heart-broken.

When she left the department, I almost quit myself. I didn't want to do the job if she wasn't going to be there with me.

Because during our year of working together, I managed to fall head-over-heels in love with her. But since I never told her how I felt, how can I justify being mad at her?

"Aren't you?" she asked a little shyly.

Damn. I would've thought that after a year's time those feelings were gone. They should be gone.

But everything came rushing back just from looking at her.

I tried to fight it, because I don't want to feel like this. I know I'll only end up getting crushed again, because whatever her reason for looking me up, it surely isn't so that she can strike up a relationship with me.

But the fighting with myself is pointless and I'm already bracing myself for another heartbreak as I stared at her and quietly said, "No. I'm not mad at you."

"Huh. See, that's weird because the Mike Logan I knew would've been pissed."

"Okay, maybe I was mad a little. But Barek, it's been over a year. Even I don't hold a grudge for that long."

"Good. I um…I wanted to tell you that…um…I'm sorry."

"Sorry? What the hell for?"

"I'm sorry for leaving the way I did."

"We weren't a couple. We were work colleagues. You didn't owe me any explanation."

It hurt to say those words. She was so much more to me than a colleague.

But since I was never man enough to admit it, well…I have to deal with the consequences. One of which is that she was free to go wherever she pleased without saying a word to me about it.

"Mike…" she started and then she stopped. "Wow, this is harder than I thought it would be. I was expecting you to be mad."

"You want me to yell or something?" I teased, still trying to find solid footing in this conversation, but my attempt fell short and neither of us smiled.

"No, I just…if you were mad, then maybe…" she trailed off again and this time she picked up her glass and tossed back all of the liquid in one drink before stating, "I just got back to New York. I've been living in Colombia."

"South America?"

"Uh huh."

"They've got good tequila down there," I mused.

I know I'm throwing her off by being so agreeable, and I can't figure that out.

She wants me to be mad? That doesn't make any sense.

"I was offered a position with the Bureau to work on a special task force. It was a joint effort with the ATF."

"You hate the Bureau."

"Yeah, I know," she said, huffing out a small laugh.

"So why would you do it?"

"It's a long, drawn-out story," she hedged.

"I've got time," I told her.

I set my hands on the table and without conscious thought, I started twisting my ring around. I know it was a tell, but I can't stop myself, and it's not like it matters. Carolyn doesn't need to read my tells anyway. She's probably reading my every thought as it crosses my mind. She's always been eerily good at knowing what I'm thinking.

Except when it comes to how I feel about her.

She sighed heavily and sat back in the booth, and I can't take my eyes off of her. She's just so damn beautiful.

"After that Colemar case…you know we ruffled a lot of feathers with that one."

"We ruffled a lot of feathers with most of them," I reminded her, the memory serving to relax me enough to offer her a genuine smile.

"Yes we did," she agreed, returning my smile. Although hers was brief and fleeting as she added, "Moran wasn't a fan. Of either of us."

Suddenly, I don't like the way this is heading. What does Moran have to do with any of this, and why is she so reluctant to talk about it?

"Mike, you have to promise me that nothing I say will ever leave this table."

Now I'm liking it even less.

What the hell is going on?

"Mike."

"I promise," I said reluctantly.

"I know you would never go back on your word."

"No, I won't. Now tell me."

"I got a call from Deakins not long after he left. He wanted to give me a heads-up that Moran was going to bring the ax down on you. He wanted both of us, but he couldn't dig up enough dirt on me to make anything stick, so he focused solely on you instead. He was bringing up that Tarkman shooting again. He wanted your head on a platter."

"That's no surprise," I said carefully. "But I was cleared on that shooting."

"I know that. I was there, remember? I know it was a good shoot."

"So…"

"So I had this offer from the Bureau. They told me it would be six months. After I heard what Moran wanted to do, well…I went to see him. I made a deal with him."

"What kind of deal?" I asked warily.

"I told him that I would go if he let you stay."

TBC...