A Knight in Uniform

Author's Note: Wasn't going to write this but after I first posted I realised it was a pity we didn't hear about Logan's day. And then star jelly sent me a nice little PM and I'm like sure why not? Anyway I hope you all enjoy this - personally I think I write Barek better...sigh

Mike Logan was excited.

No scratch that he was ecstatic, pumped, delirious, electrified, and any other word that can describe being excited. And it was all because of one thing, one single thing - he was now one of New York's Finest.

It was a shock really. He had never thought of himself as a cop when he was younger. Actually he hadn't really thought about his future. From a young age he'd settled into the train of thought that he would never amount to anything - and his mother had done everything she could to encourage that thought.

It was funny to think, that if he and his friends hadn't decided to go to skip school he would have never of become a cop. It had been a hot summer's day and he and his friends had all been screwing around, despite being in their senior year.

While the rest of their year were rubbing their noses against the bricks trying to cram a whole lot of useless junk into their mind, Mike and his friends had been out smoking, taken cars for a joy rides, and even bought some beer from the local liquor store (which was no problem since Mike was already a regular customer thanks to his mother).

As Mike reasoned though, it wouldn't matter if he screwed up his final year of school - his mother couldn't think any worse of him, and the moment he finished school he was going to hitch a road to California and start fresh there.

However fate intervened that day. Mike had been chucking stones (amazing what you could find in Central Park...) at some rich guy's house on the Upper East Side, when some suit had yelled at him. Naturally he and his friend's scattered, and soon he was pissing himself laughing as he ran. Realising he was probably going to die of asphyxiation, since he could barely breathe, he took a sharp left into an alleyway. Sitting hidden by a large dumpster Mike had tried to calm himself, and tried to regain his breath.

It was no use. He soon found himself, clutching his side, tears running down his face, just laughing. Hell it wasn't even funny and yet he just laughed, he just laughed...

And that had been a mistake.

"Think your real smart?" a rough voice from above had come. Mike had looked up in shock to see it was one of the suits. Except it was clear this guy was no suit - this guy was something else.

Still though, keeping up with his reputation, he slowly got up, cocked an eyebrow and said, "Yeah, I do,"

The guy had rolled his eyes, and suddenly whipped out a shiny gold badge.

The guy was a cop.

Suddenly Mike found himself thrown up against a brick wall, and literally having his nose rubbed raw. He struggled a bit, but soon his arms were brought down. And click! He was handcuffed.

"Now what do you think?" asked the cop.

"Um...police brutality?"

He just had to respond like that.

Mike remembered tensing though, preparing for his short and pathetic life to end when the cop chuckled. And all Mike could think was, 'What the freaking hell?'

His eyes had been wide, his body tense, unsure. What was going on? What the hell was going on? Then the cop pulled him away from the wall, and soon the cuffs were unlicked. He turned, and instantly began to rub his wrists, jaw dropped.

"What?" had been all he could manage.

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen..." he had replied uncertainly.

The cop gave him the greatest look of pity. Mike glared at him, he didn't need some cop's pity, he didn't want it...hell so what if he was seventeen? So what? What was with the pity?

"You keep on this track kid, you'll be sitting in Riker's pretty soon," said the cop seriously. He then grinned, "Now get lost before I arrest you for vandalism and underage drinking,"

Mike had just nodded, and quickly started to walk off. When he finally made it home, and after a screaming rant from his mother for skipping school, he decided there and then not to be a drunk screw up like his mother. He'd be something different - a cop, one of New York's finest in fact. His mother laughed at that.

And now he was one. After leaving at high school, he went to night school, working at a mechanic's during the day, trying to save funds to move out. When he hit twenty one, he once more ran into that cop who he had met all those years ago. The cop was called Donald Cragen.

Don had surprisingly remembered him, and had been greatly amused when he discovered that Mike was considering entering the Police Academy. Whilst Mike fixed Don's car, he was entertained with war stories, and Mike's desire to be a cop was only fuelled.

A week later he enrolled in the Academy.

It had been tough, but worth it, and now he was starting. So when he woke up in his new apartment on the Lower East Side (he'd left his mother without a second word after he enrolled), he showered and pulled on his uniform, he felt proud, and of course excited.

He didn't have work until the afternoon though, so he found himself bumming around his apartment watching TV.

At around two he headed over to his new Precinct in the Bronx (he had hoped to get assigned somewhere in Manhattan). He met his superior, L.T. Smash, and then he and Officer Yates were told to get into a squad car and go on Patrol.

Yates was a good guy, a little dim, but he had a superb sense of humour that made up for it. Mike settled into shotgun, eyes scanning the street for any trouble, whilst Yates told him the ins and outs of the NYPD. Like where all the cop bars were, and who were the real know-it-all detectives, and even chucked in a story about how his father had been a cop.

They didn't see anything, so they headed back to the Precinct.

Around midnight Mike and Yates were off again, circling the streets like hawks. He saw her then.

It was dark, but there she was standing underneath the orange aura of the street light. A group of men were starting to surround her, and every instinct told Mike that they weren't looking for a D&M session.

"Stop!" he growled, cocking his head in the girl's direction. Yates nodded and pulled up immediately. Reacting instantly he sprang out of the car, flashlight out, hand resting on his Glock.

The men turned around suddenly, and Mike instantly noted how some of them staggered at the movement and that their cheeks had a soft flush. They were drunk - though not too drunk, Mike knew too drunk.

Looking over to the girl, who looked like she wanted to hug him or something, Mike said loudly, "Are they giving you any trouble?"

One the guys spoke up, but Mike just glared at them, drawing himself to his full height. He cleared his throat and asked, "Was I asking you?"

The girl immediately took that opportunity to head over to him, standing close, slightly behind, like she was using him as a shield. She hobbled a bit, and one quick glance at her feet, said it all. Broken heel; and she obviously didn't wear heels often too.

The men gave the classic 'we're just leaving' and staggered off. He watched them for a bit, and once he figured they weren't going to be any more trouble, he turned slightly to the girl, and said, "You okay?"

She nodded, brown eyes full of relief, "Yeah," she paused, looking slightly embarrassed, "thanks for pulling up,"

"My job," damn, he liked the sound of that, "So what are -"

"Doing?" said the girl, with a small grin. She seemed to stiffen slightly, and her hand began to play with a long lock of brown hair, "I was at a party...and this guy offered to take me home...and then he kicked me out of his car,"

She was lying, he could tell. He raised an eyebrow and resisted saying 'Do you think I'm an idiot?' and opted for a simple, "You're lying,"

The girl got an odd glint in her eyes.

"Yeah, well it was better than saying we were making out and then he kicked me out in the middle of the freaking Bronx because I didn't want to have sex with him, there and then,"

He grinned slightly, surprised at the straight honesty (and she looked the same, since her cheeks had reddened). He chuckled, "Wasn't expecting that,"

There was an awkward silence that seemed to envelop them. She stood there, her left leg shaking slightly from the pressure of uneven footwear. He breathed in her scent - it smelt like a party, that beer and smoke smell mixed with sweat and even a touch of aftershave. She looked out of place though; he could tell by the way she held her self. Most girls who choose to wear clothes like that, held their head in confidence, but she hung her head, dark curls hiding her eyes, her shoulders slumped.

She was embarrassed.

He wondered where she got those clothes. They weren't hers, she was probably more of a jeans girl - an older sister's maybe...or a friend's? They actually looked nice on her, the light green complimenting her olive skin, the top just falling right, not too revealing but just right...

"Oi Logan!" came Yate's voice, "What's going on?"

Ahhh, poor Yates, he sounded a little annoyed. A small grin tugged at his lips. Poor guy, looked like the rookie was tonight's hero. Oh well, better get this kid home...

"Need a ride home?"

A small inclination of her jaw and quiet, "Yeah..."

"Hop in," he said casually, opening the door for her. She slipped in, and then Mike resumed his shotgun seat. Looking at her in the rear vision mirror, she looked slightly confused, though there a ghost of a smile on her lips, like she was having her own private joke. God, he hoped she didn't start laughing...

"What's your name?" said Yates, suddenly crashing through Mike's thoughts.

"Um...Carolyn Barek,"

Putting two and two together, Mike asked, "Your parents know where you are?"

"Does the term sneaking out mean anything?"

She said it with distaste. She was obviously a first time offender. He chuckled slightly, when he was her age he had just stopped sneaking out. Winking at her, he grinned, "My whole life was that, kid,"


She sounded offended.

"What would you prefer?"


Caro...nickname obviously...but there was something vaguely familiar about it, something he just couldn't put his finger on...

"Well I'm Officer Yates," said Yates, with a grin, and a little jerk of his head, "and that's Logan,"

"No shit,"

That said it all really...no shit...

Yates rolled his eyes at Mike, before continuing, "So where do you live?"

"Coble Hill in Brooklyn,"

Coble Hill...that was like, what? Half an hour away. A quick glance at Yates, said it all. Drop her off at the Precinct, make sure her parents collect her and then head back out.

"We'll take you to our precinct - your parents can pick you up there," said Mike.

She nodded slightly, a longing look appearing on her face.

They navigated through the streets and back to their precinct. Yates went to go and get some coffee, which left Mike with 'Caro'. A few cops stopped and looked at her. Mike felt something flare up in him, and he stared coolly at them, telling them to 'back off', almost like an older brother. Hell she had nearly been attacked; she didn't need cops ogling at her.

He got her to the phones, and watched as she called home.

It was hilarious.

Suddenly some massive rant in some unknown language (though probably European) could be heard screeching through the receiver. Caro tried a few times to stop it with English, but soon she was slipping into the other language, frustration written all over her face. She eventually hanged up, with a disgruntle 'thanks'.

Leaning back in the chairs, he asked, grinning like a Cheshire cat, "Grounded?"

She sat next to him, and looked at him for a moment...well more than a moment. She just sat there, eyes sweeping over his appearance, like time had frozen. He was getting ready to wave his hand, when she looked away, the red little flush returning.

She nodded, "Yep until I'm thirty at least,"

Yates walked into the room that moment, and tapped his watch in Mike's direction.

"Tough break," he glanced down at his watch. He still had another hour of patrol left. Glancing back at Caro, he asked, "Well can I trust you to stay here until your parents here?"

She didn't really need to answer - he knew the answer. She would be sticking around. Smiling, he told her to talk to Davis if she had any issues. He left her then, grabbing Yates, heading back to the squad car, uncomfortably aware that her eyes were following his every movement.

He got into the car, and smiled...only his first day and already he'd saved the damsel in distress...things were definately looking bright...