A/N: I was trying to write a short story for English and came up with this. Ah, it will hopefully cover all Barek and Logan episodes. This is the first. Pretty much all dialouge is quoted from the episode. I guess to explain it, it is a series of diary entries showing the progression of a relationship between Mike and Carolyn. I hope you all like it. This Chapter is Barek's POV!

Spoliers for 5x02 Diamond Dogs.

If enough people like it I will continue on.

A/N2: Before I add the rest of the chapters I have gone back to edit these ones a little.

Mike Logan – Black Sheep of the NYPD.

Growing up in a Polish family was hard. But it was even worse growing up with a family of cops. It made it easy for me to decide what I wanted to do when I was older. I was going to be a cop – like my family.

This just meant that my family had firsthand knowledge of what cases I was doing and who I was partnered with. Of course, they knew the reputation of Mike Logan – NYPD black sheep, who I became partnered with.

Having worked alone for so long, I guess I was the obvious choice for a partner. And our first case together, was an interesting one.

I saw how he was acting. Paranoid. On edge. I was the only one to notice this, but what with a dead body lying at our feet, and missing jewellery, I guess it was fair to say that no body's attention was on my partner.

I was studying him as he walked past me. He must have caught my expression as I watched him for he backed up, and gave me a curious look, opening his mouth to say something, and then closing it again. I guess he was waiting for me to say something; but I didn't.

Mike took this as his cue and asked the question on his mind. "What?" short and straight to the point.

"Relax," I told him giving him a small smile. He raised an eyebrow at me not understanding my words. "You've got the job."

Mike didn't seem to understand what I was talking about – but luckily a call from one of local uniforms called out to him to tell him that the security tapes were ready to be watched. He left without saying a word, allowing me to work without a distraction, to do what I do best. Profile.

Profiling is easy to do, but being alone for so long as meant that I have started talking out loud to myself, without actually realising it. I was profiling our killer when my new partner called out my name. "Tapes ready."

We were watching the tape together and I was profiling to myself again when my partner called me out on it. "You might want to think about getting a cell phone. That way, people might not think that you're talking to yourself."

I smiled inwardly glad he hadn't made a huge scene over it like some people. "Working alone to long," I said by way of explanation, which he seemed to accept, for he smiled and laughed gently at my comment before we went back to the tapes.

Sitting in the car in silence waiting for our delivery boy to turn up was starting to get to me. I pulled the small zip lock bag from my pocket and pulled out a cherry tomato. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my new partner watching me with interest.

"Cherry tomato?" I offered, trying to be polite. I saw the hesitation in his eye, so I decided to sweeten the deal. "They're from my garden."

I offered him the bag and he took one, popping it into his mouth. I looked down and took one from the bag, when he spoke again.

"What else you grow?" he asked interested.


"Polish food." He was quick. Not many people I had worked before made the connection. "I love pierogies. Are your mother's any good?"

"Nah," I laughed, "it wasn't her thing. So, uh, what did Mrs. Logan make her boy?"

I was interested to know the answer to this question.

"Rum punch." At a pointed look from me he gave a small laugh. "Private joke."

Despite the fact that he said it was a private joke, and I realised right away it was private, it was no joke. There, right there, was an answer to one of the many questions I had stored away to ask the infamous Mike Logan.

Mike and I were yet again completing surveillance, but this time we were waiting at the Methadone clinic, waiting for Maya and her brother to turn up.

"So, just in case I need an interpreter, how many languages do you speak?"

I silently laughed at the question I had been expecting since I got here. Considering that I spoke French to the woman, Sonya, to find out about this place we wouldn't have known about otherwise, I had been waiting and expecting that question. But where did I begin.

"Umm, well, Spanish, Yiddish, Italian, Polish," I began listing them all, "French, Creole. Some Russian, some Cantonese, from working in Chinatown. You?"

I don't think he was expecting quite that many languages. He quickly recovered though. "I can say 'stop,' 'police,' and 'what's your sign?' in fifteen different languages."

I had to laugh. I had no idea if he was being serious or not, but he probably was. I didn't get a chance to ask because we heard Maya's brother being called to the desk.

We were at the pool hall, looking around, hoping to find the man that Roy had been selling the jewellery to and, as predicted, we found him. Only he didn't want to talk.

Mike reached over and grabbed of the pool sticks of the wall, looking directly at the man. "You know," he began in a voice I hadn't heard of, "I had a partner, oh, what a great stick man he was. Here's something he had way too much decency to teach me." He bent the stick over one knee and broke it in half, chucking half away, using the other half to threaten the guy, placing it under his neck.

He grabbed the man's tie and began to drag him in the direction of the bathroom. I didn't like the look of where this was going – but I wasn't going to step in. Not until it crossed the line.

"I'm a rage-a-holic cop," I heard him say, dragging the man in the direction of the bathroom, still brandishing the pool cue, "who took a swing at a city councilman. Everybody thinks I'm a ticking time bomb. Maybe today's the day I blow. I don't know. It's up to you."

I saw a few public members about to step in, so I gently placed my hand on my hip, moving my jacket of to show my badge and my gun. They backed down. But all I knew was that this charade was going to come back and hurt us.