WARNING: There will be mentions or drug use and drug overdose in this chapter.

A/N: I could write a long excuse about how busy I've been and that's why I couldn't update, but… I'm going to save that. Because it's really not that important why (and I know a lot of you probably don't read ANs anyway :P ). All I'll say is that a lot has happened, and some of it has even altered the course of some of these chapters. I hope you guys enjoy and appreciate the ideas as much as I do, and I hope that the emotions behind them will come through in the writing.

You guys are seriously great. Seriously. I love you all so much. I'm going to do my best to update a lot more. I'm already writing chapters ahead of schedule for some stories just in case. Thank you all so much for being patient with me – I can't tell you how much I appreciate it!

Plus! Anyone who is interested in seeing Tim Om with a pompadour, he totally has one in Hard Pill. It is gorgeous. Oh, and he kisses a man in it. This is what I like to call a win/win. :D You can find one of the scenes by looking up "Tim Om – Breakin' Dishes" on YouTube.

Day Four: Buzz McNab

Buzz woke up after a restless half hour of sleep. He had spent the entire night worrying about what Lassiter was going to do. Buzz knew that there was no way for both of them to come out of this unscathed, be it physically or emotionally – the only remaining question was which it would be.

Buzz was frying eggs when he heard muffled noises from the bathroom. Carefully, he pushed the door open to see Lassiter curled up in the bathtub, sleeping in his boxers and dress shirt and whimpering quietly. The detective twisted around, eyebrows furrowed, shivering in the cool morning air, an action that proved both pathetic and endearing at the same time. Buzz was covering Lassiter with a towel when he noticed two photos on the floor that seemed to have slipped from the older man's hand. One was the picture of the boy he had found yesterday; the other was a photo strip. He realized he shouldn't, but Buzz couldn't help it – he just had to see what it was.

He picked up the photo strip and was surprised to see not only the boy from the other picture, but Lassiter as well. It seemed to have been taken a good twenty years before. Lassiter was young and grinning, his hair gelled into a pompadour that made Buzz chuckle. The first photo was a pretty typical one of the two boys smiling with their arms around each other's shoulders, and the next showed them giving each other bunny ears. The third became more intimate: the two were nose-to-nose, their eyes closed and expressions of tender contentedness crossing their faces. It reminded Buzz of the wedding photo he and his wife had in a frame on their nightstand. The final picture gave Buzz a bit of a shock, even after the events of the night before – Lassiter was running his fingers through the other guy's hair, and their lips were meeting in a loving, playful kiss. A twinge of sadness ran through the rookie's heart. He had never seen Lassiter look that happy in the present day.

The head detective gave a tiny snuffle from the tub, and Buzz jumped. He placed the two photos in a safe place next to the sink and scurried out to where his eggs were burning.

A half an hour later, Buzz was washing dishes when he heard the door creak open. Lassiter crept out of the bathroom with a sheepish look on his face. "McNab." He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I… have an apology I need to make."

Buzz waved his soapy hands furiously. "No, no, no! I was way out of line. I should never have made you feel so, uh, uncomfortable."

Just the word made Lassiter blush. "It's not your fault," he said stiffly. "In any case, you don't have to worry. If you promise not to tell people what happened, I'll make sure we never have to work on another case together."

Buzz frowned, tilting his head to the side. He had never been good at hiding his feelings, and he knew there was disappointment written all over his face. "Why?"

"This isn't exactly something I want people knowing, McNab!"

"I don't mean that. I mean, why can't we work together anymore?"

Lassiter cocked an eyebrow. "Don't you think it might be kind of awkward?"

"Maybe a little bit at first, yeah," Buzz said with a shrug, "but that's okay. I mean, the chief found a poem I wrote about her, but that doesn't mean I don't want to work with her."

The detective fiddled with his shirt cuffs for a moment. The tips of his ears were pink. He looked up only slightly, and if Buzz didn't know any better, he'd describe the motion as sheepish. "You actually want to work with me?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

"McNab…" Lassiter shook his head with a small smile. "You are the only person who would ever have to ask that."

Buzz wanted to ask what he meant by that, but he decided to just take it as a compliment. Silence fell over the kitchen and, despite all odds, managed to be surprisingly comfortable.

"You know, sir," Buzz said, cautiously optimistic, "there are hiking trails around here, if you wanted to take a walk. I know I'm getting kind of sick of being stuck inside."

Lassiter's smile grew by the smallest fraction. "Sure. Why not?"

After they showered (separately this time, as Lassiter was – in Buzz's opinion – unnecessarily vehement about) and dressed, they managed to locate a trail right beside the cabin and began a slow ascent up a nearby hill.

The old awkwardness started coming back to Buzz the longer they walked together in silence. Now that it was all really sinking, he was starting to feel appropriately shocked. After all, Lassiter – dated women, talked about women, had married a woman – had been attracted to him. And not just him, if those pictures were anything to go by. What exactly did that mean? Was he gay? Bisexual? Was he, like one of Buzz's college roommates, pansexual? Despite the fact that it was, at this point, a pretty reasonable question, Buzz wasn't sure he should ask. Nothing so far was quite adding up.

"Something wrong?"

Buzz jumped slightly, looking guiltily at Lassiter. "No," he tried to lie, but the head detective continued to stare him down with those ice blue eyes, and he gave in. "I guess I just have some, y'know, questions."

He flinched, ready for the tirade, but all he got was, "That's fair."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I probably owe you a few answers anyway."

It was all so easy that it made Buzz even more nervous than he already had been, but there was no turning back now. He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the ground as he spoke. "Okay." He cleared his throat, trying to think of the least awkward and offensive question. "What are those pictures for?"

"Pictures?"

"Yeah. You know, the ones you brought with you."

"Oh." Lassiter stared straight ahead, pointedly avoiding looking at Buzz. "Those were from a long time ago. They don't really matter anymore."

"Are you sure?" Buzz asked. "They seem to matter a lot."

"They don't," Lassiter said stubbornly. "Not really. At least, they don't have anything to do with my life now.They're just reminders."

"Why?"

"Because Tom is dead."

An image of the smiling teen flickered through the rookie's head, and his heart dropped. Buzz watched as a crushing sadness flitted, however briefly, over the detective's face. He wanted to put a hand on his shoulder, but he knew that would be crossing the line. "Tom. You mean the guy in the photos?"

Lassiter nodded.

"What happened to him?" Buzz's voice had grown steadily quiet, and he was barely speaking above a whisper. "He wasn't… he wasn't murdered, was he?"

"No." Lassiter shook his head. "No, he wasn't. He died of an overdose."

Buzz fell silent, instantly regretful. The look in Lassiter's eyes told him that this wasn't a good subject to pursue, but he couldn't stop himself. "Was he your…?" Buzz let it hang there, not sure how to finish it.

Lassiter shot him a sideways glance. "Boyfriend?" he asked, the word dripping with sarcasm and something like hurt. "I guess you could say that. He didn't like me calling him that, but that was still probably what we were." He looked up at the canopy of tree branches above him and took a deep breath. Buzz could see that he was steeling himself for the conversation, trying to find a decent way to explain it.

"I met him in my freshman year of high school. You might be surprised to hear this, but I had never been very popular, and I didn't have any friends. People didn't even want to sit near me in class. I don't think I went a single day without taking a spitball to the back of the head.

"Tom was exactly the opposite. He was on the football team. He got good grades. He was funny and charming. Girls wanted him, and guys wanted to be him. When he was assigned as my lab partner, I couldn't believe the he actually didn't mind. He was the first person to really talk to me like a human being, and from day one, all I wanted was to be around him. And he let me. It didn't matter that none of his other friends liked me, or that it was hurting his reputation. He actually wanted me there. He was my best friend.

"After the homecoming game in sophomore year, once everyone was gone, we snuck under the bleachers, drank a lot of beer, and started talking. I said, uh, some things I didn't mean to say, things that I had planned on keeping private, but then he said he felt the same way. From then on, we had two different lives. At school, we were friends who made stupid jokes and did stupid things, and when we were alone, we were… more than that."

"So boyfriends," Buzz attempted to clarify.

Lassiter sighed. "Yes and no. I tried to call him that. In my mind, that's what we were. But he would get angry with me, telling me he wasn't gay. He was too scared to admit it to anyone, even himself. He didn't stop calling other people 'fags' or 'queers,' and he kept going on dates with cheerleaders."

"And that didn't bother you?"

"Of course it bothered me," Lassiter snapped, annoyed. "But it was either let him do that or lose him. And besides, at the end of the day, he had picked me. That's all I cared about."

"But why?" Buzz asked. "Why would you deal with someone who did that to you?"

"Would it be asking too much for you to believe if I told you it was because I loved him?"

Buzz thought about his wife, the way he felt when they were together, and the things that he would do for her. His only answer was, "No, it wouldn't."

Lassiter kicked at the ground. "He told me he loved me. All the time." His voice cracked. "He was the only one who had ever said that to me. It didn't matter what he did. I would follow him to the ends of the earth, just for saying those three words."

Buzz felt a pang of sympathy. He didn't think he could ever leave Francie, whatever the circumstances.

"The drugs started the summer before our senior year. He started hanging out with a bunch of idiots that got him into it. I didn't like it, but I couldn't just leave him with them. I figured that if I was there to look after him, he would be fine." Lassiter rubbed at his eyes, apparently exhausted. "Cocaine addicts aren't the easiest people to live with, and I learned that the hard way. Tom got moody and violent when he was high, and I hated being around him when he was like that. He always apologized afterward and, like an idiot, I always took him back. Except for that one night.

"A week before Christmas, we got into a huge fight. He told me I was being controlling, I told him he was being a moron, he punched me, I hit him back. It wasn't all that different from our other arguments, but I was exhausted. Finally, I just got fed up and left. It took me hours of driving around town to calm down enough to go over to his place. I figured I would apologize and everything would be okay. His mother – I think she knew what was going on with us, but she always seemed to like me – she answered the door and… I'll never forget the look on her face. She wasn't even crying. It was like she was past that. She was just looked so damn tired. She told me that Tom had overdosed in a parking lot. His so-called friends all saw what was happening and just left him there." Lassiter spit the words out with the bitterness of poison. He ran a hand through his hair, agitated. "I felt like my life was over. Like I could never find anything like that again. I didn't know how to get by without him."

"You felt like he was all you had," Buzz added quietly. "I understand that."

Lassiter shot him a skeptical glance. "I tried to forget him and move on, but it never worked. I just… didn't want that to happen again. Losing someone like that, I mean. And it's not like anyone at the time was all too friendly to… people like me. So I decided to just start dating women. I figured it would make life a lot easier."

"Did it?"

Lassiter shrugged. "In some ways, yes. In some ways, no. My divorce was still hard. I figured that if I didn't love her that way, it wouldn't hurt, but I still loved her enough that it did. Lying can be exhausting, too, being so careful about what you say and who you say it to. There are so many things, though, that I can do as a straight man that I couldn't do as a… well, you know. After all, I'm head detective now. I have people who respect me."

"You know you could have that as a gay man too," Buzz said. When Lassiter stopped to glare at him, he froze and hastily added, "Sir."

"I really doubt it, McNab."

"But why? There are a lot of successful gay people. Do you watch Ellen? Francie loves it, and Ellen always talks about her wife on there. People are just more accepting nowadays."

"I sincerely hope you're not trying to compare me to a comedienne with a failed sitcom," Lassiter said, his eyes narrowing once more.

"Uh, no, sir! I'm just saying… Well… I think people would still respect you if you were open about it. I mean, I know I would."

Lassiter stopped and looked at him, and for a second, Buzz thought he was going to punch him. Then, Lassiter's features softened, and he gave Buzz a small smile. "I know you would, McNab. But not everyone is as good as you think they are."

Buzz gulped and took a deep breath. "And not everyone is as bad as you think they are." When Lassiter didn't answer, he continued. "Sir, I know I haven't been around all that long, but there are still some things I know. Like, I know Detective O'Hara would never mind if she knew, or Chief Vick, or pretty much anyone you work with on a daily basis. You're a good detective, and that's what matters there. And, sir, if you don't mind me saying it… I think you'd be happier."

Lassiter snorted.

"I mean it, sir." Buzz put a hand on Lassiter's shoulder. He froze, worried he'd crossed a line, but the detective didn't react. "Were you… were you happy with Tom?"

Lassiter's eyes didn't leave Buzz's face, but for a moment, he seemed transported. He seemed to be looking right through Buzz and into the past, into those few shining years where he had something. When he answered, his voice was hoarse. "Yes, I was. I was very happy."

"And if you could do it all over again, would you decide not to be with him?"

"Of course not."

"Then, sir, why wouldn't you want that again with someone else?"

Lassiter's eyes suddenly grew wet and slightly redder, and Buzz almost panicked. He was happy to have the head detective talking to him, but he really wasn't sure how he would handle him crying on his shoulder. Buzz had never seen Lassiter cry, but he always figured it would involve a lot of shooting (or at least hitting things).

Lassiter yanked away from Buzz's grip and sniffled. "Come on," he grunted. "Let's get back. I'm hungry."

"Of course, sir," Buzz said, hurrying meekly after him. The two stayed silent for the rest of the walk, both of them preferring to stare at the ground than hazard a glance at each other.

Over dinner, their silence grew a bit more companionable, and Buzz started to relax. It was kind of nice being there with Lassiter, now that he'd gotten used to it. He had never really gotten to a point where he felt like he "fit in" on the force; he'd never stopped feeling like a rookie. Now, though, it was almost like he'd made a friend (not that he was willing to mention that to Lassiter just yet).

Their conversation picked up a bit as Lassiter started packing his bags, and – after a lot of insisting on Buzz's part – Lassiter agreed to sleep in the bedroom with him. In the darkness, just as he was nodding off, Buzz heard, "McNab?"

"Yeah?" he replied sleepily.

"Thank you for… you know." Lassiter sounded embarrassed. "You're not half bad."

"You too, sir. Say, you wanna come over for game night with me and Francie next week? We're playing Boggle!"

"I would rather braid a hippy's beard."

"Okay. Just figured I'd ask."

Several seconds of silence passed.

"You know…" Lassiter's voice sounded hesitant. "Getting a beer would be alright."

"It's a date!"

"McNab. Never say that again."

"Yes sir."

Buzz woke the next morning to see that Lassiter had already left, and he Juliet rifling around in the kitchen. He walked out with a yawn. "Good morning, Detective O'Hara!"

Juliet smiled. "Good morning, Buzz. How was your visit with Lassiter?"

Buzz thought for a moment. "It wasn't what I expected."

"Oh yeah?" Juliet frowned, apparently wondering if she was going to have to apologize for yet another offense her partner had caused.

"Yeah." Buzz grinned. "Detective Lassiter is my new buddy!"

Juliet stared for a moment, stunned. Buzz grabbed her bags for her. "No need to worry about these, Detective. I'll put them away for you. Want some breakfast?"

Juliet just shook her head.