A/N: Well, here's a new chapter. Unfortunatly, it's mostly the episode quoted, rather then more of my own stuff. I loved this episode, but for what I was looking to do with this story, it didn't work that well if I changed to much of it. The next is pretty much my own though.

This is a long chapter - sorry! It is case centered so I'm sorry about that, but you couldn't do muhc else with this. I apologise. If you have not see this ep, well, I guess it'll be really confusing for you. Bareks POV

Spoliers: 5x04 Unchained

"What was his excuse?" Logan asked. She paused, for a moment, looking down to her right; a little weary of us, nervous.

I'd worked a few cases now with my new partner Mike Logan. I liked having a new partner, someone to bounce ideas off. Didn't mean I stopped talking to myself, voicing my thoughts. When I was profiling someone, I liked to think out loud.

"He come over to the bar, and asked to borrow a nut-cracker," she told us, looking up again, but past Logan. Logan looked to his left deep in thought. My mind was working in over drive to. What she'd just told us did not make a whole lot of sense.

"Marissa," we heard her manager call from behind us.

"Oh, excuse me," she apologised to us, standing up and making her way past us. Logan took a second, before looking down at me, meeting my gaze.

"A nut-cracker? The guy's a mechanic right?"

That was exactly what I had been thinking; only my partner voiced it for me. We didn't say anything, instead, walking out the door and to the small parking spaces outside the bar.

Logan bent down to pick something up and I pulled out an evidence bag for him, holding it ready as he stood up, examining what he'd found.

"Well," he told me, twirling it in his fingers, "he might've borrowed it to make a quick adjustment on somebody's car. Tightened a fanbelt maybe," he guessed. From the way he gently shrugged, I could tell that although he had basic knowledge, cars weren't his thing.

He slid the evidence into the bag and I sealed it up tightly.

"Probably just a pre-text to get him out here," I guessed, turning away from my partner, as we began to walk out of the car space.

"Friend wouldn't need a pre-text," he countered.

"So he did a favour for a stranger."

This was what I liked about having a partner. It used to only be me, and I could profile the crims and find a motive, but it was never a challenge - and half the time my motives were wrong. At least now, I had a partner who challenged me. Made me think outside the square, questioned me to make sure the motive was solid.

"A stranger who knew he was a mechanic," I added, pointing a finger at Logan as a subconscious hand gesture as we entered the street.

"A kid with a good heart huh?" he joked as my mobile phone rang. I silently smiled to myself as I fished my phone out of my pocket, the same time we reached the car. I answered my phone pausing in front of the car.

"Barek here."

We examined the body and I talked to myself, gently under my breath as I examined him. I walked around the body, but Logan stayed in the one spot. We spoke to the Medical examiner, asking her a few questions. I did not look up from the body, but I was indeed curious enough to listen intently to Logan who shared some knowledge about Lobster traps.

I noticed a watch and gently peeled back the sleeve to look at it. "Well, the harbour masters log can tell us who was out there at one seventeen am Sunday morning. Time his watched stopped."

Logan looked up at me, and I looked up in time to catch his gaze. For a few seconds, we stared at one another over a dead body. Logan was asking me how I could tell so precisely.

I nodded my head gently towards the watch. "Waterproof to ten metres."

We walked out of the captain's office towards our desks, but Logan had a question playing on his mind. He asked it, without looking up from the paper he was reading. "Saint Barques? How did you know it was Officer Long's parish?"

I sat down at my desk and rolled my eyes. "I asked."

He looked up at me momentarily before looking back down at the sheet in front of him. "That's a nice gesture."

I looked him up and down but couldn't find any emotion behind the mask he'd put up. I really didn't think he was that interested in what he was reading, at least not to show any emotion. The only emotion that I'd seen on his face before, or seen from him, was anger. Rage.

"Oh here's something."

Logan and I picked up the files after the OCID boys walked out of the room. The desk was covered in files and folders, so we picked the ones closest to us, which happened to be phone logs, what we were after.

"Taglioti and wife," Logan muttered, flicking through the file in his hand, "Taglioti and mother. These are some brilliant phone taps."

I could tell Logan was already bored with this; we'd barely even started though. That was one thing I'd noticed about Logan. He was not very good at sitting down, doing paperwork. He preferred to be out in the field.

While Logan was going through his file with a running commentary, I was slowly going through mine, in more detail.

"Oh here we are. Giaggi. Louie Giaggi." I placed my arm on the desk resting my chin on my fist, looking at Logan curiously to continue on. "I remember him. Louis three eyes. He's got a big mole on his forehead," he gestured to the centre of the forehead. "He's a Gambino. I've got a phone tap of Taglioti talking to Louise three eyes the day before Georgie disappeared."

He turned to look at me as he said this. "So," he spoke, shuffling papers, "what's a Massuchi underboss doing talking to a Gambino solider?"

"This I.D. code," I pointed out to him, on the page that I was reading, as a way of answering his question, "is an FBI wire tap."

"FBI?" he asked, frowning in confusion, looking closer at the page. He sighed. "We'd be lucky to get it for the next ice age."

I knew the feeling. Most cops hated the FBI because they considered themselves more superior then the rest and rarely shared information with anyone. Especially wire taps. They just took over an investigation, expected full co-operation from the cops, without giving any in return. Except in this case, I had an ace up my sleeve.

"Ah, sooner," I shrugged indifferently, feeling Logan look back over towards me, curious. I looked directly at him. "I still have hooks there."

He nodded his head in understanding and with what could have been a new appreciation of me.

When we arrived at JFK we found uniforms securing the car. We thanked them and walked straight to the front seat of the car. We were lucky the car was not locked. Nothing seemed to jump out at us inside the car once we'd opened the door, so we popped the trunk and walked around to lift the lid.

We stared at it, for just a moment. "Oh wow," Logan muttered, as we leant down for a closer look. "There's blood all over here."

I noticed that Logan always seemed to voice his opinions about things, not really caring what anyone thought, or how sarcastic they sounded.

"Looks like Georige took his last ride back here," Logan continued on, still examining the trunk. "And he might have had company," he added a second later, "See these long red hairs caught in here?" he asked me, as I walked past him to examine the front of the car.

The candies on the floor caught my eye and I bent down to examine them. I noticed no packet on the ground, but looked up to the glove box, opening that, to find more of the red and white swirled sweets.

"Make sure we have prints taken inside this glove box," I told the tech, busy outside taking photos. If there were sweets on the floor it must mean that at one time or another, the glove bow was open and they fell out. Good chance we would get a print.

"Gotta' be the spare, hasn't been on that long," Logan spoke from where he was examining the back wheel. "It's looks clean," he observed, gently running his finger along the tyre. He turned to the tech, working away at the trunk. "See if you can get me some prints of the jack," he ordered.

I stuck my head out of the car to face my partner, giving him a questioning look at his last order. He gave a huge shrug. "Feeling lucky."

We were in the Medical Examiners office again for the two new corpses we'd found buried in the concrete. Both Logan and I had a quick look over the body, asking Rogers some questions. Logan moved onto the second body, the red haired while I looked at the personal belongings.

"Hey what about her?" I heard Logan ask as I sifted through the personal belongings.

"Broken neck," Rogers supplied as an answer for cause of death.

"Ah," Logan commented.

"She went quick," Rogers continued on.

I pulled the small object out of the pocket and looked at it, confused. "Car registration," I turned to my partner, who looked up at me form where he was squatting over the body, "people keep it in their glove box." I was silent for a moment as I thought back to the glove box in the car. "The mints feel out of his glove box. Do we have the location of his last phone call?" I asked.

Logan checked for me. "Mile before the Vanerick cemetery," he supplied, having no idea what it meant. He went back to what I was saying about the registration. "Well he'd go for his registration if he was being pulled over. He'd take it out of his glove box, and have it ready."

"If they didn't ask for it, put it in his pocket," I finished his thought for him before I lifted the wrist for my partner to see, it confirming out theory. One we did not want to put into words.

"These ligature marks."

"Handcuffs," he finished my thought. I nodded.

"A cop grabbed him of the highway," I had to voice what I knew we were both thinking. "Delivered him to Taglioti."

"A cop working for the mob," Logan summarised. We shared a look and didn't speak, silence over taking us as we contemplated a cop, one of us, working for the mob. All was silent until Logan spoke a second later.

"How low can you go?"

Logan walked into the room as I was busy going through the files, carrying more, under his arm, to add to our ever increasing pile of files to go through.

"IAD sent the last of them," he announced as he entered the room, sitting in the chair next to me, "thirty six detectives with access to the wire-tape." He flipped open one file and began to read. I knew it would only be a few seconds before he spoke out loud again. I was right.

"I really hate this, going through another cops file," he sighed, closing the file, leaning both arms on top of it. "I don't know how those IAD guys stomach it."

"You know what its like," I told him. It was not a question, but more a statement which he couldn't argue with. I looked up at him for a moment, and seconds later he looked at me. "Being on the wrong end of the microscope," I clarified.

"Ancient history," he tried to shrug it off. But I knew for a fact he couldn't shrug it off entirely. Even if he put it behind him right now, for this case, it would still comeback to hit him late on. Hard.

"While we're talking," he spoke a second later, "you ever been in vice?"

The question caught me completely of guard. I frowned, chancing a glance at him. "No."

"You know a lot about gambling," he answered my unspoken question, "you a player?"

"No," I dragged the word out, sighing, realising I had to tell him the truth about my friend. "I had a friend who had a gambling problem. Spent two years trying to fix him."

He looked at me, nodding his head gently. "Hard work," he sympathised.

"Detective Albert Kirkoff," I changed the subject. "The day after the attack on Taglioti he cut his vacation short and came into work."

We got into the car, after having spoken to detective Virginni. "Looks like detective Virginni wants you as a son-in-law," I joked. Maybe I could match him up with her. She seemed like his type, from what I could gather of them.

"No thanks," Logan told me pulling a file from the backseat."Virginni's graduating class. Five inspectors, seven deputy inspectors. That's the crew that practically ran the department." I took a moment to comprehend this, while Logan continued on. "Kirkoff's letters of reference. All from the crew. Virginni used his contacts to help Kirkoff get into OCID."

"He could have used them to kick himself forward, instead, he moved his partner into a position where he'd be indispensable to the mob."

I leant back in my seat, looking at Logan, feeling slightly worried by what we were unravelling here.

Logan and I stood behind the crowd that were gathered on the stairs for the impromptu press conference. Word got around fast as to who had been arrested. When a cop has been arrested, I guess word travels fast, and that everyone wants to know why. Why was this cop arrested? What did they do? Can you be sure they are the last dirty cop? It becomes a PR nightmare.

"And just look who they have investigating this hero," I heard said in front of all the cameras. That could only mean one thing. My partner – Mike Logan. I knew this would come back to hurt us. "A disgraced officer," he continued on, "whose record of misbehaviour speaks for it's self."

I looked over at my partner, the words hitting me hard, knowing they would have affected him badly. The crowd moved up the stairs, away from ask, asking questions all at once, leaving Mike and I alone, at the bottom of the stairs.

He turned to me, smiling gently. "This is going to be a lot of fun."

I rolled me eyes. "This is only the beginning."

"So, your partner know you're dropping in on me?" Virginni asked allowing Logan inside his house. Logan scanned the hallway, before answering his question.

"She hasn't been my partner that long I got to clear it with her. You want to check me?" he asked, raising his arms over his head, hoping to draw suspicion away from him self.

Virginni took a minute before answering the question, playing with the glass in his hand. "No." He walked to the table and poured himself another drink. "I'm just going to assume you're wearing a wire. Mike shrugged his shoulders. "Anyway, I can use the company."

He handed Mike a drink. "What's on your mind?"

"You that suppression hearing coming about Kirkoff's jacket?" It was something easy to start of with, something he had no doubt that Virginni knew about.

"Right. Plain sight."

"Well, it can go either way, depending on whether I say the closet was open or shut."

"What about your partner?"

"She wasn't there." Plain, simple, and straight to the point. He realised he needed to sweeten the deal. Not to much, just enough to reel him in. "That jacket goes away so does the case against Kirkoff."

"So it's all on you then?"

"Yeah," Mike sighed, realising that it was all on him. "Hey," he added a second later, "this case its all hunches of Phil Bartoli. And your right about things taking on a life of their own."

"I've seen it too many times," he shook his head slightly as he remembered. "Good cops held back. Ruined even."

"Yeah well, you take your lumps like a good boy, even then they never let your forget it." Mike looked around the room, before looking back at the man standing across the room from him. "I don't own these guys anything." He looked out the window, to create a pause in the conversation, build suspension. "You can tell Kirkoff to stop worrying." Virginni raised his glass in a mock toast.

"All right then," Mike sighed, heading to the door, "I'll see you later. Oh," he added just as he past Virginni, "By the way. I heard about how your daughter stands up for you. You're a lucky man."

Virginni smiled and laughed. "Well, I'd be luckier if I could get her out of the house every now and again."

Mike laughed. "She cramp her old man's style?"

"Something like that." Mike headed for the door but turned back when Virginni spoke.

"Why? Your interested?"

"In what?" he asked stepping back from the door. "Asking her out for a date?" he frowned.

"Not a date," Virginni shrugged. "Whatever. Why? You don't find her attractive?"

"No, she's good looking," he didn't need to fake that.

"She's got. Ah. Attributes," Virginni tried to sell his daughter. "Like her mother."

"It's just… I'm not really interested for a relationship."

"Who said anything about a relationship?"

"Well listen, I don't want to disrespect you but the kind of girls that I like…" he trailed of and Virginni spoke again.

"No disrespect. I mean, whose she saving it for anyway?" he tapped Mike lightly on the shoulder, who laughed along with Virginni.

"So what? A couple of dinner?"

"A dinner would do it. And don't forget the wine. Ranatta is just like her mother," he winked at Mike. "Can't hold her liquor. Tell you what," he said turning away, to grab a piece of paper with his daughter's number on it. "I'll tell her you might call, tell her it's okay by me."

Mike accepted the piece of paper, holding it up in thanks, before turning and heading out the door.

Logan and I let the daughter listen to this conversation so we could prove what we'd been telling her all along about her father. She let us, reluctantly, play her the tape. Her reaction to it was understandable. She was outraged. And upset.

We manipulated her with her feelings into helping her get a confession from her father to help us solve this case. Of course, we lied to her father as to why he was being brought in, so we could have them both in the cell at once – the perfect place for a confession.

I listened to the entire tape by myself and found myself analysing it. As a profiler, I had done this many times, so I didn't even think about it, as I went through the tape. After, I felt bad because it was my partner, and I was analysing his words, every sentence. Though he'd lied, in order to get her number from him, I found truth to some of his words and it made me begin to wander about Mike Logan.

He didn't like to show emotions, other than rage and anger, but he did often open up to me at least, and tell me things about him. He was happy to joke around with me, laugh. But underneath that all… there was still anger, hatred… he had been deeply hurt.

It almost didn't end as well as I'd hoped. He called his daughter every name under the sun, which I can admit, I'd expected form him, but he attacked Logan. I was almost afraid that Logan would lose it and attack him.

I was glad that Logan didn't react and we could all walk away. Maybe he'd worked on those anger issues of his.

We walked out of the holding cell back to our desks, while Renata was led away by a uniform. "Bartoli was right. It's easy to forget he's a cop."

"Still easy to forget he's a father," I added arriving at my desk. "Hey," I added a second later.

"Yeah?" he asked, turning to face me.

"So what are you going to do with that number?"

He laughed. "It's already deleted."

"Not your type?"

He shook his head, laughing, walking to his desk, and not answering my question.

What Mike had said to Virgini on the tape interested me, but I didn't want to read to deep into it. He was my partner after all. We needed to be able to trust one another, and if I kept profiling him, I don't think he'd like nor trust me anymore.

After this case was finished, came another case, then another. But none of them invloved Mike Logan's past actions to be called upon. I honestly have no problem with it, because I know what kind of cop he is now, I know who he is. And I don't judge people for their past actions, unlike some people. Mike Logan was my partner, and it looked set to be so for awhile.