"You are out of your gourd. Do you know that?" Jim Reed was pacing the length of the small hospital room which currently housed his partner Pete Malloy. Three weeks after being shot saving Jim and his son, Pete was in no mood to debate the matter in question anymore. The issue being that Pete, as the Chief Training Officer, had decided that Jim would be riding with brand new academy graduate until he, himself, could return to patrol.

"That may be true, but I'm not changing my mind about this. Starting tomorrow morning, you will begin training Larry Kasak to be a cop." That said, Pete returned his attention to something much more pleasant; Jean Reed's latest care package. Several women including Mary MacDonald and Mrs. O'Brian, knowing that Pete had no inclination to eat the food served at the hospital, had taken to sending him home cooked meals; all approved by his doctor.

"Please enlighten me on how I am supposed to do that? I'm just a P2." Police Officer II is the rank an officer achieves at the end of their probation. While it is true that most training officers are P III's, it wasn't unheard of for an experienced P II to be assigned to ride with a rookie. To Pete, this latest "argument" was an example of Jim's tendency to underestimate his skills.

"Do you think that I was a lousy training officer?" Pete paused in his enjoyment of this latest version of soup; it now came with small bits of chicken and vegetables. Someday he hoped to grow up to eat "big boy" meals.

"Of course not! Captain Moore told me that first day that you were the best he had…" Jim hesitated to finish the sentence; he knew that Pete had once again won.

"And?" The older man pinned the younger one with eyes that dared Jim to deny the obvious.

"…and if I listened, I could become one of the best too." Now that Jim was seemingly resigned to his fate, he once again sat down next to the bed. He wasn't ready to give up totally, not yet. "Let's say that I am, it still doesn't mean that I will make a good training officer."

"All I'm asking is that you try." Pete let out a large sigh before continuing; hadn't he finished being Jim's training officer years ago? "Don't look past your first shift with Kasak. Assume that he knows nothing, because he doesn't know a damn thing about how to survive on the streets. Set the rules: know where you are at all times, know how to work the radio, stress the need for him to obey all your orders without question and don't give in to the desire to strangle him."

"Aww, come on Pete, I wasn't that bad." Jim's memory of that day was a more idealized version of Pete's opinion. True, he had run off into the darkness after some teenagers with guns, but he wanted to show his TO how good a cop he was. That was too much for Pete, who burst out laughing.

"I remember exactly what I told Captain Moore that night. Up to and including the fact that the only thing you knew how to do was wear the uniform right." Pete felt no compulsion to let Jim know that Moore, his own training officer, felt the same way about him after one shift. "I promise you that for the first few months, you will end every shift wanting to scream, get drunk or plant your foot in his ass; don't do any of those."

"I'll try to remember that bit of advice." The more Jim thought about their first few weeks riding together, he was glad that Pete hadn't, in fact, kicked him in the seat of his pants. "You really expect me to do this, don't you?"

"Sure, you remember what Moore said. Relax, you'll do fine." While Pete did consider Jim one of the best officers he knew, that last bit was as close as he would ever come to telling him that. Getting too emotional wasn't Pete's style.

O~O~O

Now that Pete was in a regular room, there had been a steady stream of visitors. After weeks of the ICU and the surgical ward, it was nice to have the company. The phone and television weren't bad either. Sally, who was working steady days, would stop in to see him before her shift. She was his first visitor every day; she was also his last. Tonight was no exception. At 8:30, Sally came into his room. Dressed in sweat pants and one of his LAPD t-shirts; he thought she looked beautiful.

"You look tired." Spoken almost simultaneously, they were both right. It had been a long day for both of them. Pete's day consisted of two physical therapy sessions stuck in between a host of visitors. He appreciated all of them but it was tiring to keep up a strong front when you are feeling the level of pain Pete was. He smiled at Sally as he shifted towards the left side of the bed; an invitation for her to join him.

"Did you eat any of your dinner?" Sally lowered the right bed rail and climbed up beside him. She laid her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his good arm around her.

"That depends on what dinner you mean. Did I eat the schlock the dining staff sent up or the homemade tomato soup with rice that Mac brought me?"

"Schlock?" Sally looked up at him with blue eyes that twinkled in amusement. "Where did you get that word from?"

"It's Yiddish; it's a great word." His smile showed a hint of the mischievous youngster he was. "A guy I grew up with had a Jewish grandmother. I learned a lot of choice words from him."

"I'm sure you did. Your mother told me some stories about you." Pete could feel Sally's body shaking with pent up laughter.

"When did you talk to my mother?" As far as Pete knew his mother and Sally hadn't gotten off to a good start and things went downhill after that. If they were talking, it might not bode well for Pete's secrecy about his childhood. His father had already told Mac more than Pete wanted anyone to know.

"I called her this morning to let her know how you're doing." Sally pinned him with a look that stated the obvious; Pete should have called her by now. "One of us should."

Pete really had no answer to that accusation; he hadn't yet spoken to his mother since his parents went home, but his father had called him. That fact was proof that something had changed between the two of them. Ever since he left home, the calls came from his mother and included a "your father says hello" message. Who would have thought that getting shot would bring him and his father closer?

"Now you saved me from having to call her. Thanks." Pete flashed Sally a very cheesy grin while tightening his arm around her shoulder. "Was it busy in the ER today?"

"Have you ever seen a day that it wasn't? We had one kid, a three-year-old girl, with a ball bearing stuck in her ear canal. Apparently her older sister dared her to see if it would fit. Kids!"

"Don't you know that you have to accept a dare? I wouldn't have stolen my father's car and flipped it on its side if Sean hadn't dared me to race against him." Pete could laugh at that escapade now, but it sure wasn't funny when his father grounded him until he was thirty-five. Technically, Pete was still grounded.

"You stole your father's car on a dare?" The expression on Sally's face was priceless; eyes wide, mouth hanging open. "I can't believe it; you're a cop."

"I wasn't then. I was, however, young and stupid. The emphasis being on stupid." Racing cars on a dark country lane wasn't one of Pete's smarter moves. At least Sally was laughing. Then she was snuggling closer, one hand playing with the rust colored hairs on his chest.

"Ahem. What are you doing?" Pete was smiling; after all, the sensation of having her fingers brushing his chest hair was pleasant.

"You can't be that medicated. Isn't it obvious?" She was grinning mischievously as she inched higher on the bed, letting her body brush against his.

"Yes, you're teasing me and you know it." He might be stuck in a hospital bed, but kissing was still possible. Both of them needed the closeness; it had been too many weeks since they were able to do more than a peck on the cheek or hold hands in the dark. Nurses came and went; changing IV meds, taking vitals and giving Pete his doses of morphine. No one said a thing about Sally and Pete being in bed together. It wasn't the first time the staff had seen couples taking what comfort they could in the close confines of a narrow bed.

O~O~O

Jim approached the station's door with all the hesitation of a fourth grader heading for the office of the principal. Despite Pete's reassurances, he still doubted that he was up to the task of training a rookie. The fight he had with Jean over it didn't help; someone had told her that riding with a rookie was more dangerous than being alone in a squad car. Jim couldn't deny that fact. He remembered how many times Pete purposely put himself in danger to keep Jim safe. Pete had brushed off every thank you Jim offered; he said it was part of the training officer's job. Now Jim was one and that scared the hell out of Jean and, to a lesser degree, Jim.

He saw one possible "out" of the situation. Pete couldn't be convinced to change his mind, but Mac might be willing to pass the kid off to another officer. It was a slim chance; which officers were assigned to a rookie was Pete's call, not Mac's. Jim jauntily tapped on the door of the watch commander's office, entering when Mac waved him in.

"Reed, I'm glad to see you. Odds were that you would call in sick to force Kasak onto another training officer." The sergeant was smiling but there was a bit of truth to his statement.

"Uh, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Can you assign him to Sanchez or Woods instead of me?" Mac casually noticed that Jim was shifting nervously.

"No, for two reasons: first they are each getting their own rookie to train; second Pete would take my head off if I over-ruled him on this." Like Pete, Mac felt that Reed was more than qualified to become a training officer. Plus, he had way too much respect for Pete to question his decision.

"Maybe I should talk to the Ca…" Jim broke off his suggestion when Mac stood, placed both hands palms down on the desk and leaned towards him.

"Even the captain will not over-rule Pete on this. Now go get ready for roll call. I'll introduce you to Kasak afterward." MacDonald was putting all his authority into his voice; warning Jim against continuing his opposition to his new role.

Reed wanted to say something sarcastic about all the help Mac was giving him, but he wisely left the office and made his way to the locker room. The usual characters were there; Wells was telling a war story, Brinkman complaining about wasting time in court and Grant trying to convince Brady to start riding a motorcycle instead of working with Wells. Scattered among the shift's regular officers were three new faces. If he had more time, Jim would have sought them out to welcome them while also determining which one was Kasak.

Roll call was starting as Jim stepped into the room. Rather than disturbing the briefing, he took a seat next to Walters in the last row.

"Mac told me that you are going to be training one of the rookies." There was a slight chuckle to his tone. "You look more nervous than they do and they're on display." It was then that Jim realized that no one other than the three rookies were seated in the front row.

"Relax Junior." That's what Pete told him last night, but how could he relax? One of those young men would be depending on him to protect them while also training them to survive on the streets. "Dammit Pete, I can't do this."

Walters leaned closer to Jim. "Did you say something to me?" Jim shook his head and turned his attention to the sergeant.