A/N: Finally some action in this chapter! Thank you to those who reviewed the last frustrating installment! This is the final chapter! Please let me know what you think!

CHAPTER 35: Dirtbags

Lieutenant Harris and I went through a McDonald's drive-thru and bought coffee, a couple of Egg McMuffins and a few Sausage McMuffins. When Harris continued to drive out of the McDonald's without pulling over into the parking lot, I was confused.

"Wait—aren't we going to stop and eat?" I asked, fumbling with the bag of food he had handed me. "You can't drive and eat that."

"That can wait," he replied. "Go ahead and eat yours—right now, food's the last thing on my mind."

I smiled as I pulled an Egg McMuffin out of the paper bag and began unwrapping it. I sunk my teeth into the breakfast food as I watched the scenery fly by. The last time I'd gone to Harris's house had been to switch into the Corvette on our way to the Friday night party at the game lands. It was incredible how a mere week and a half had completely changed the relationship between us.

"Aren't you going to turn on the radio?" I asked him, my mouth half full of food. "Maybe the verdict has come back."

"Nah," he said. "I'm gonna enjoy today. Hearing that my career is essentially over would kill the mood I got going on."

"Why do you think he'll be found not guilty?" I asked. "I for one think he's guilty."

"Great, but you're not on the jury. I think we got better things to do than listen to the damn radio all day. The verdict won't be going anywhere in the meantime."

He winked at me then. And with that, the concerned look on my face turned into a smile.

This time, when we pulled into the driveway of Harris's tan ranch house, the purpose for our visit was entirely different. I noticed again his lack of embellishment of the house—not a bush or flower in sight. It sat on a cul-de-sac, slightly further away from the other houses lining the street.

I moved to open the door, but Harris stopped me with a guttural uh uh noise.

"Lemme pull into the garage first," he said, turning off the car and jumping out on his side. He opened the garage door and got back into the car to pull it in. It was a smart idea that would ensure that none of his neighbors saw him playing hooky.

When he put the car into park, I again reached for the door.

"I'll get the door for you," he offered, quickly getting out of the vehicle. I was touched by his chivalry. There was a sharp disconnect, however, between the way he treated a love interest, and the way he treated cadets. How was he going to balance this—and more importantly, how was I going to handle this?

"Here you are, Ma'am," he said, interrupting my train of thought as he stood by the door with his left arm extended invitingly. I noticed that his accent became thicker when he was outside the academy.

"Thank you," I replied, getting out of the car as femininely as I could manage in the skirt and blouse I'd changed into for the hearing. After I'd moved away from the door, he shut it with a smile.

"I was just wondering, where are you from?" I asked him then, hoping to know the source of his pleasant southern accent. At his raised eyebrow, I clarified. "Like, the state?"

"Texas," he replied. "Port Arthur, to be exact."

"Where's that? Texas is a pretty big state."

"Well, it's real close to Houston and the Louisiana state line. Why do you ask?"

"You have such a nice accent—just wondering where it's from," I said, feeling a blush coming on. "And I think I should know a little about my… well, you know…"

"Boyfriend," he finished. "Here. Lemme get the garage door, then we can go inside."

As I walked across the threshold into Harris's house, I noticed immediately a giant glass case on the wall displaying antique firearms surrounded by pictures of the graduating classes of the police academy… up until 1983.

"What happened to 1984 and after?" I asked, pointing at the pictures while realizing that I was getting off-topic. Even so, I was extremely curious.

"Beginning in '84, the mayor forced the academy to accept any dirtbag with a pulse. As you can imagine, this greatly decreased the caliber of our graduates. Now we got porkers, sissies, ex-cons, and women in uniform. I only count the good old days."

And with that statement, the mood in the house instantly changed, at least on my part.

"Hey, I resent that," I countered, putting my hands on my hips. "Sounds like you just called me a dirtbag with a pulse."

"Nevermind that," he interrupted. He used his good arm to lead me away from the pictures, towards a narrow hallway. "We're getting off track."

I allowed Harris to move us down the hallway, but his words had struck a nerve.

"You know what—you wouldn't even have met me if the academy was still all-male and—"

"I know, I know," he muttered, obviously flustered. "I just need to shut my mouth sometimes—let's just leave it at that."

I grimaced. The statement about dirtbags was unsettling because it seemed to actually apply to me. I was a pseudo-ex-con and a woman to boot, and I wasn't physically fit enough to run the obstacle course. I no longer felt very frisky, and instead felt an ugly realization dawning on me. Harris hadn't exactly corrected himself by saying his statement wasn't true; he just had tried to change the subject. I stopped in place, which caused him to stare at me in surprise.

"You know what? You're right, at least about the dirtbag part," I muttered. He squinted at me.

"What ?"

"I am a dirtbag," I said. "Look where we just came from: a courtroom where I was being sued for stealing a car. I'm a loser."

At this point, I felt worse than I ever did at my typical 'sad' stage of drunkenness. Maybe I was going to be on the rag soon, by how majorly my mood had changed in a mere matter of minutes. Why had I noticed those damn academy class pictures, anyway? It didn't matter, because I was on a roll now—my rant wasn't over.

"Now, you know that's not true," Harris said carefully, looking at me as if preparing for me to bolt. I wasn't finished with my spiel. I held my hand out, using my fingers to count off the reasons why I sucked as a person.

"Let's see: I've been arrested three times, and I'm 34 years old, unemployed, a college dropout, and living in some crummy apartment I can barely afford. I'm an embarrassment to my family name. I can't even run a damn obstacle course without making a fool of myself."

Harris could only stare at me, his face half-confused and half-sympathetic. It was an odd expression. What was most noticeable was that he had nothing to say.

"Let's face it; I'm a nobody and I shouldn't even be here," I said, throwing up my arms, feeling my eyes watering. "I should still be in that jail cell."

"Now, hold on just a minute there," he said, holding up his hand to halt my speech. "You really think I got a spotless record? I'm the only cop in this precinct—hell, maybe the only cop ever—who always gets taken hostage and has to be rescued every damn time."

"If you get taken hostage a lot, it's only because you put yourself out there," I replied, smiling weakly. "Just like that pawn shop, when you ran at the getaway car—you're fearless." He didn't seem to be totally convinced of that.

"Either that, or stupid," he said, grimacing. "Let's see what else I got on my record. A gigantic goddamn diamond was stolen right from under my nose. I got launched right into a horse's ass. I had a bullhorn glued to my face for days. I had to be rescued from whitewater by the fattest son of a bitch to ever join the academy. I made a complete fool of myself on a high-rise assignment—the tape of me begging for my life was played for every asshole in Lassard's group to laugh at. The way I handled the Wilson Heights gang robberies convinced people that I was on their side. And just lately, I made a fool of myself in front of the whole academy with that Russian dickhead." He shook his finger at me. "Don't you talk to me about being a nobody."

I gaped at him for a couple of seconds after he had finished talking, amazed and taken aback by his startling confession. I'd never expected such a seemingly arrogant man to reveal such embarrassing information about himself. I hadn't even heard the horse's ass story yet. Of course, I'd never revealed to anyone else what a lifelong failure I was, either.

"Huh. Can't believe I just said all that," he muttered, shoving his hand in his pocket and looking down at the floor.

"I've never said that kind of stuff aloud either," I replied. "Kind of a weight off the shoulders, though, to say it out loud, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he said. "Felt pretty good to purge all that shit. I got plenty more, but at least that was some of it."

I'd bared my soul… and so had he. The thought of that made me feel somewhat better. His eyes rose from the floor and locked on mine.

"I guess that makes us both dirtbags," he muttered, shrugging.

Our bodies made a decision before my brain could even process what was going to happen. We crossed the small space between us and our mouths met, arms encircling the other's back, the arm sling and the buttons of Harris's formal police uniform pressed up against the buttons of my blouse as we made out.

I could hear a throaty grunt as Harris continued to kiss me, using his intact arm to direct me towards what I presumed to be his bedroom. I let him.

There was no way he'd be able to undo his shirt quickly with an arm in a sling, so I began undoing the buttons myself, exposing his white dress shirt as we moved into his bedroom. Thankfully I was good at multitasking. I deepened the kiss as I then began to undo the buttons of the dress shirt. Now all I could see was a white cotton undershirt. Where was he under all these clothes?

I felt his fingers feeling around the back of my skirt and soon he found the zipper. He ripped my skirt down with a satisfied grunt and then pushed me up against the foot of his bed, making me bump the back of my calves on his bed and fall backwards onto the bed.

I watched as he painstakingly slipped the sling off of his shoulder and forearm and pulled his police uniform and dress shirt off, but left his undershirt on. I noticed then that his arms weren't particularly muscular, but they weren't puny, either. He winced slightly as he attempted to straighten his arm.

"Do you want me to help you put the sling back on?" I said. "I don't want you to dislocate your shoulder."

"Nah," he replied, his eyes locked on mine. His eyes moved lower and he pointed at my legs. "But you could remove those… hose."

"What about your belt?" I offered. "I could help you with that." I sat up and reached toward it and he abruptly slapped it away, gripping his belt with his weak arm.

"No, Proctor!" he roared. I blinked and sat back.

"Uh, what?"

Suddenly his face turned bright red and he looked extremely self-conscious.

"What I meant to say was there was an incident at the airport where I thought I was, uh, setting off the metal detector, and Proctor stupidly—"

"I don't care," I interrupted with a smile. I reached forward, grabbing his belt buckle and tugging him towards me. "Get over here."

I laid under Harris's weight, feeling his heart rapidly pounding in his chest, our fast breaths mingling in our face-to-face position. His body was hot and sweaty and yet the position was comfortable enough to keep for a long time. After I'd taken off my hose, I was surprised when he smiled eagerly at me and then commenced with foreplay, getting me so hot that I begged him to finish us both. Now we were both spent and satisfied, and yet I was a bit sad to know that we wouldn't be able to continue lying together for much longer.

"Was that good for you?" I heard him mumble, his voice low and partially muffled by my face.

"Yes, it was," I replied. "How about you?"

"Hell yeah," he said, letting out a loud exhalation as he answered. "Almost makes me want to just blow off the academy for the rest of the day."

"Really?" Hope welled up inside me. I was totally fine with playing hooky at the academy and spending all day in Thaddeus Harris's bed. And to think, I'd almost forgotten how much I enjoyed sex; it had been so long.

"Yeah, but we shouldn't," he grumbled. "If that damn verdict comes back not guilty, they're gonna be looking for me."

"Right," I said. "But what if it's guilty? Will they be looking for you?"

"Probably," he said, using his undamaged elbow to support his upper body. "Dorm walls ain't the thickest, so we gotta meet elsewhere next time."

It was then that he leaned down and gently kissed me on my forehead.

"Thank you," he murmured. I was touched by his sweetness. He wasn't finished talking. "…for not telling anyone about this." I squirmed beneath him, surprised at his bluntness.

"Wait—you think I'm going to blab about this?"

"I could be up for a promotion at any time," he explained. "I gotta have a clean record."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I could call you Captain—you know, when we're…"

"Actually, I'd prefer Commandant," he asserted. "Especially when I'm bending you over Lassard's desk."

I felt a twinge and a throbbing deep inside me, and realized that I was definitely ready for another session.

"When would that be?" I asked, blinking innocently as I lay underneath him. His face took on a look of surprise at that question, and then he grinned.

"Today at twenty-three hundred hours, in dress uniform," he responded. "That work for you?"

I smiled toothily at him and ran my hands along his sides.

"Oh, yes, Commandant Harris."

His eyes widened for a moment, as if something occurred to him. At that same moment, I felt a reawakening of a particular part of him buried in between our bodies. That seemed surprisingly fast for a middle-aged man.

His pupils widened until there was almost no color around them and I could hear his heavy breathing and heartbeat speed back up again as he scanned my face.

"Wanna go another round?" he said, his cheeks flushing. "Seems to be a record recovery."

I was certainly impressed by the man's stamina.

"Are you sure, Commandant Harris?"

He let out a quavering sigh as something pressed firmly against my thigh. He gulped loudly before speaking.

"Yes, Ma'am!"

By the time we finished another round and redressed, Lieutenant Harris and I returned to the academy at lunch time. We'd worked up quite an appetite in the meantime, so Harris immediately moved for the buffet line.

I saw Mullers wave me down from her table in the cafeteria, most likely curious as to how my morning went. By the big smile that was plastered on my face, I was sure she'd assume I won the case. Well, that and a whole lot more.

"Looks like I don't need to ask how it went," she said. "Did you have to do anything?"'

"I gave him the car back. It was a piece of shit anyway," I remarked.

"It was actually kinda funny today," she noted. "Couldn't check on how your hearing was going, but about ten minutes ago, they announced the verdict in that ex-mayor's case Harris testified for. Did you get to hear it?"

My heart began pounding in my chest. Harris's fate would be decided by this crucial verdict. If the ex-mayor was found not guilty, the cops would surely be looking into Harris next as the ringleader of the Wilson Heights gang activity. However, if he was found guilty, Harris would be off the hook.

"No, I didn't," I said. "What did they say?"

"They found him guilty of all charges," she said with a smile. "Looks like he'll be put away for a long time."

"Oh, thank God," I said, sighing with relief. My day had gotten even better, if that was possible. I couldn't wait for Lieutenant Harris to know.

"Didn't realize you were paying such close attention to the case," she commented. "Look at you; it's like a weight's been lifted off your shoulders."

"Yep," I replied. "It's the best news. Who announced it?"

"Commandant Lassard. Apparently he played a big role in nabbing the guy initially—him and his nephew. The instructors began giving him a round of applause and we all joined in. He was so touched.

"How nice," I said, my mind spacing out. I desperately wanted to tell Lieutenant Harris. He stood in the buffet line, unknowing of this fact.

I didn't get a chance to approach him, because as soon as I considered standing up and leaving my table behind, Captain Callahan strode towards Harris purposefully. I couldn't hear what she said to him, but I knew what she was telling him about. His expression went from its usual grumpiness to that of a relieved smile. I saw him glance at me and wink and realized that I was staring blatantly.

"Earth to April," Mullers said. "You staring at Lieutenant Harris? And did I just see him wink at you?"

"Yeah," I stated dreamily.

"Wanna explain the sudden switch there? I thought you two hated each other," she exclaimed.

"Nope," was all I said.

"You telling me you both like each other?"

"Yep."

"What?" Stiner blurted. "I thought you hated him!"

"I did too!" Manson added.

"Man, this is some Pride and Prejudice shit," Mullers muttered, shaking her head. "Are you telling me you don't think he's an arrogant prick?"

"Sometimes he is," I said, still staring off at him as Callahan shook his hand and looked rather repentant. "But that's okay."