>Winters are the worst
>This was the prevailing thought as you stepped from your vehicle into the early morning air
>Sure, Christmas and New Year's were fun, but...
>The wind picks up and kicks your face with an icy blast
>...you hate the cold
>Groaning, you settle further into your dark-blue patrolman's jacket and begin your trek across the parking lot
>A fresh blanket of snow had fallen over the night, covering lawns and sidewalks
>The city had done a decent job of salting the roads, at least
>You cross the street, unconcerned with traffic at such an early hour
>Pass an illuminated flag pole
>Walk through the front door of the Blaik County Police seventh district substation
>And into your new job
>Where you proptly realize how lost you are
"Shit."
>You don't actually remember where to go from here
>Looking around, you spot a bored-looking middle-aged woman sitting behind a panel of ballistic glass, and you make your way over to her
>You lean against the counter
"Excuse me."
>At a painfully slow pace, her eyes drift from her computer screen to you
"Uh, I'm new, I'm not really sure where I'm supposed to go."
>You were sure that at some point someone had told you, at it had just slipped your mind
>Not the best first impression, to be sure
>"Squad room."
>She jerked her head towards the front door
>"He'll show you."
>You direct your attention towards the door
>A tall, dark haired man who looked to be  in his mid twenties had just walked in
>A single thin, gold service bar was stiched into his jacket's lower left sleeve, marking three years of service
>"You the new guy?"
>He walks up to you, hand outstretched
>"George."
>You clasp his hand firmly, and shake
"Anon."
>"Good to have ya' with us, Anon. C'mon, squad room's this way."
>He swipes his card through a reader and leads you through a nondescript door into a long, narrow hallway
>"So, you lived here in Blaik County long?"
"About three days. Moved here once I got the job."
>He whistles
>"Three days and you're already getting started, huh?"
>You shrug
"Yeah, well, figured I might as well. I was kinda' excited to start working, honestly."
>"Well, keep up the enthusiasm, man. It'll take you far."
>He reaches the door and pauses.
>"Otherwise, you'll burn out on this and hate your life."
>He pushes through the door and you follow
>Trying to keep the conversation alive, you press
"So, what do you do?"
>"Patrol. But I'm one of two FTO's on shift, so you might be riding with me."
>He grimaces ever so slightly
>"Or that other guy."
"What? What other guy?"
>George waves his hand dismissivly
>"Nah, don't worry about it. Whoever they stick you with, they'll be great."
"Whoever being you or one other person."
>"Yeah."
>You reach another door, which George pushes open, revealing a rectangular desk with a dozen or so chairs spaced around it
>Immediately, you knew who that 'other guy' had to be
>He was sitting in the back corner of the room with his feet propped up against the desk, scowling at you as you entered
>He was lean and, like George, appeares to be in his mid to late twenties
>However, his most memorable feature is a close-crop of messy rainbow hair
>George nudges you
>"Dude, you're staring."
>You avert your eyes, but aside from the scowl he gave no indication of caring
>George takes a seat near the front of the room and you settle into the chair next to his, turning away from the black looming presence sitting at the far end of the table
"So..."
>You jerk your hear towards the rainbow-haired officer
>"Corporal Dash. He's been on a little longer than me. I think he laterally-hired in from some agency a little bit south of here."
"Is he like... gay?"
>George shurgs
>"We don't fuckin' know, man. Dash likes to keep to himself. I mean, he's not a bad cop, he's just distant. Ya' know?"
>You nod
>Other offices begin to shuffle into the room
>"He's also the other FTO."
"Yeah, I guessed that."
>The door is pushed open once more and a man whose uniform bears sergeant's stripes enteres, coffee mug in one hand and clipboared in the other.
>"Morning, everyone."
>He takes his place in the front of the room
>"Welcome to the zero-five-hundred to seventeen-hundred shift. As I'm sure you noticed, we had some heavy snowfall last night so expect lots of accident calls today, especially out on county roads that haven't been salted yet."
>He flips through his papers
>"EMA wants to be remind you that fire rescue is IC for any accidents invlolving injuries or fire, and you're going to be focusing on traffic enforcement today, because of aforementioned snow, so that's speeders, seatbelts, distracted driving. Clear?
>He pauses a moment for questions
>"So, putting that aside, we've got a new member of the team, Officer Mous -
>You raise your hand
>"- so everyone coach him, make yourselves available to answer any questions he has. Mous, welcome to your first day at the Blaik County Police Department. Corporal Dash, you'll take the lead as his FTO."
>The sergeant browses through papers
>"And, that concludes my brief to you. If you need me, you can contact me by radio or phone. Hit the streets."
>George stands from his chair
>"Sorry, man. Dash is good. You'll do okay."
>"Let's go, rook."
>It was a voice you don't recognize
>Not exactly low, but certainly not high pitched
>The best way you could describe it is coarse, and a little strained
>A little like an adolescent boy
>You turn towards the source
>It's Dash
>Certainly not how you though he'd sound, but then again, you weren't really sure what you'd expect
>Now that you could see him up close and standing, it was apparent that Dash was kind of short
>You're about average height, and the top of your his head was a little above your eye level
>"What?"
"Uh..."
>You're not exactly sure what to say.
>He points to a charging bank sitting on a table
>"Grab a radio and let's go, we've got a lot of work to do."
>You snatch a radio out of the charging bank and jam it into its holder on your duty belt
>You follow Dash out of the room through the same door that the other officers left by
>A brisk walk down a hallway leads you to another door, which Dash opens and leads you into a parking lot
>He points to a black-and-white Ford Explorer-based Police Interceptor Utility
>"There's our unit, Six-Delta-Twenty. That's our callsign for the radio."
>He unlocks the vehicle
>"I'll be handeling driving today, but I want you to functions check the lights and sirens before we get on the road."
>You hop into the driver's seat, crank the ignition, and locate the control box
>You hit the lights, and the lightbar blooms to life
>Covering one ear, you mash the siren control and cycle through wail, yelp, and the air horn before switching them off and stepping out
"Okay, everything's working."
>Dash jerks his head towards the passenger side, before taking the driver's seat and shutting the door
"Cunt"
>You murmur, as you make your way to the passenger side and step in
>"So. What'd you just do wrong?"
>What? Again, you we're unsure of how to proceed
"I, uh,"
>"You crossed in front of the car. That's super basic shit."
"But that's for like... traffic stops and stuff."
>He shakes his head
>"This needs to be second nature to you. If you can't remember to do it now, under no stress in a parking lot, then you'll for sure fuck it up when you're on the road, it's raining, you're cold, and it's your fifteenth traffic stop that day. You always cross behind your vehicle - it's a matter of repitition."
>Dash jabs a thumb at the two rifles stored between you
>"The combination's four-seven-nine-three. You need to have that memorized."
>He puts the car in reverse, and grabs the microphone
>"Six-Delta-Twenty, ten-eight from the station."
>Dash takes a right turn out of the stations lot
>You glance at the cruiser's clock
>Five in the morning, exactly
>Internally, you sigh
>You've got twelve more hours with this dude
>"We're going to be working plenty of accidents today, so pay attention because this'll be a huge part of your job. When you get on scene, there's a reflective vest for you in the trunk. You will wear that vest whenever you're working a traffic accident, for the entire time you're there. A lot of cops are killed working accidents because a motorist doesn't see them."
>You nod - this is basic information
>"Whenever you're on scene, you need to be looking *and* listening. If you hear tires squealing, someone's probably losing control of their car and you need to be ready to move."
"How many accidents do you think we'll see?"
>He shurgs
>"Tough to say. Could be a few dozen on a bad day. Sun won't be up for a couple more hours, and that's when we'll start getting calls. During morning rush hour."
>And like that, you were back to uncomfortable silence
>It looks like George is right
>Dash does prefer to keep to himself
>Which really begged the question, why did he become an FTO?
>Maybe it was a power thing
>A Napoleon complex on account of how short he was
>You really hope not, riding with someone like that would be absolutely aweful
>More so than it already was
>Minutes pass with no more words spoken
>Other than to instruct, Dash doesn't seem interested in initiating conversation
>You try to break the ice
"So, what do you do outside of work?"
>He cocks an eyebrow
>It's a transparent attempt, and he knows it
>But he seems willing to humor you
>"I exercise a lot on my off days."
"Cool. Like what? Running?"
>"Yeah, some. And I do a lot of weight training."
"...oh."
>You really hadn't meant it to come out thar way
>It was just, Dash doesn't look that built
>Granted, 'a lot of' weight training could mean anything
>And it's hard to tell exactly what he looks like under his winter uniform
>But as you noted back at the station, he seems to be a pretty skinny guy
>Either way, regardless of your intentions, his irritated scowl was back
"Sorry, I didn't mean -"
>His glare cuts you off
>Good job, Anon
>You're really nailing it on your first day
>The next two hours pass with little incident and few words spoken, other than bare essentials
>It's a relief when your dispatcher comes over the radio
>"Six-Delta-Twenty, respond to Highway Fifteen eastbound past mile-marker four, highway one-five eastbound past mile marker four, in reference to a ten-fifty with possible injuries."
>Dash grabs the microphone
>"Six-delta-twenty, we're en-route."
>He hits the lights and sirens, and stomps on the accelerator
>"When we get on scene, you stay with me and listen to exactly what I say. People like to go upwards of fifty, sixty miles per hour on this road. Don't expect them to move over just because you're running lights. For the love of God, pay attention to oncoming traffic and if you see something fucked up let me know."
"Right, yeah, got it."
>You can feel your hands shaking
>It's an odd combination of fear and excitement
>Here you are, after months of training, running your first call
>The engine is roaring, and you can feel the weight of your two and a half ton vehicle as Dash accelerates into a turn
>Somewhere in the back of your mind, you remember that at around sixty miles per hour a police car will begin to outrun its siren
>You're now pushing eighty
>It's thrilling
>And at the same time, there's someone who needs your help
>It's a sense of urgency you had never felt before
>A life hanging in balance, and a race to get there in time
>Dash turns down a new road and begins to break
>There's cars slowing to a halt a short distance in front of you
>He brings the cruiser onto the shoulder of the road and passes by the stopped traffic at a speed of thirty or forty miles per hour
>A quarter mile or so in front of you is the crash
>You can start making out details
>At least one vehicle, a green sedan, has flipped
>"Shit, this is going to be bad."
>As you draw closer, you can make out more details
>The frame of the sedan is crumpled, and the windows shattered
>One of its doors was torn off and flung off the side of the road
>A second car, a red coupe, has a deep gouge on the front passenger side, and has spun around to face oncoming traffic
>Black smoke is wafting out from under the hood
>Dash mashes the break, and the vehicle slides to a stop
>"Six-delta-twenty, we're on scene. We need you to start a ten-fifty-two our way, and keep fire rescue rolling."
>He leaps from the car, pulling his reflective vest over his torso
>"Grab the extinguisher from he back."
>Without waiting for a reply, he rushes over to the coupe
>As soon as your boots hit the ground, you scamble to the rear of the intercetor and pop open the tailgate
>You grab your vest, throw it on, and pull the fire extinguisher from the trunk before running over to Dash
>Dash reaches inside the car to pop the hood
>"Take care of that smoke, I'll check on the driver."
>You stuff the nozzle under the hood and sqeeze the lever, empying the contents of the fire extinguisher into the engine compartment
>"Hey man, can you hear me?"
>You hear a soft groan
>Dash has his nitile gloves on and is checking the driver
>"Just stay still, don't move your neck. We've got an ambulance coming."
>He keys his radio
>"Six-delta-twenty to Blaik County, we have one male, approximately thirty years of age, with unknown injuies."
"Is there anything I can do?"
>Dash looks over his shoulder at you
>"Yeah, go check on the other car. If you find someone, call it up to dispatch so they can update fire rescue. Don't move them unless you absolutely have to."
>You pull a pair of gloves from the holder on your belt and rush over to the flipped sedan
>Shattered auto glass crunches under your boots, and the sharp odor of gasoline stings your nose
>You kneel by the driver side window and peer inside
>Strangely, you find not a single passenger inside
"The fuck?"
>You look back towards Dash, a question forming on your lips, but he looks pretty preoccupied dealing with the driver of the coupe
>He'll probably bitch at you if you try to drag him away for something that wasn't urgent
>You scan left and right, searching for answers
>Surely there was no way whoever was in here got out and walked away
>You stand up and walk to the front of the car
>Still nothing
>"Hey, what's going on over there?"
>Great, now Dash is yelling at you
"I can't find..."
>You notice something laying in the snow
>Something very, very still
>You move towards it, stepping over the guardrails and into the snow
>"What? What do you see?!"
>You know what you're seeing
>You don't want it to be true
>And you really hope you're wrong
>But somehow, you know
>It's the dead body of sedan's driver
>Someone was yelling something, but you couldn't process their words
>All you could do was stare
>The body is a woman of about forty, lying face up
>It isn't hard to piece together what had happened
>She hadn't been wearing a seatbelt, and when her car flipped she had been ejected from the vehicle and flung into the air
>This is how she landed
>Her long, black hair is splayed out behind her head, with not a strand touching her face
>A pair of blue eyes stare dully up at the sky
>Her mouth is open just ajar
>And her head sits atop her shoulders at a horrible angle
>Looking back, this was probably the breaking point
>Your legs give out and you tumble forward, breaking your fall with your hands
>A sickening pressure grows in the back of your throat
>And you throw up
>You're not sure how long you stayed like that
>But eventually, you feel someone grip your left shoulder and pull you onto your knees
>"Anon."
>It's Dash
>"Aw, shit."
>You try to look back towards the body, but Dash gives you a shake
>"No, don't look at her, look at me. Can you walk?"
>You swallow and try to find your voice to answer
"Ugh... yeah."
>"Alright, c'mon. Let's get up."
>He helps pull you onto your feet
>Dash's grip hasn't left your shoulder
>"I gotcha' man. Let's get you back to the car."
>Gingerly, he leads you over to your cruiser, opens the passenger door and sets you inside
>"Fire departments on scene, you just sit this one out."
>He hands you a bottle of water
>"Sip on that, I want half of it gone by the time I get back."
>You nod, and Dash away
>And strangely, you find yourself missing his presence
>It wasn't so much *him*, it was just comforting to have someone around
>Though Dash had displayed a surprising amount of care
>You might've misjudged him
>You know, a little
>He was definitely a little abrasive
>And kind of a dick
>"Hey man, how ya' hanging?"
>It's George
>At some point, he must've arrived
"Alright, I guess. You heard what happened?"
>He sighs
>"Yeah, Dash filled me in. That's rough. But had to happen sometime, ya' know?"
"Yeah..."
>"Well, I thought I'd check on you. Can't really talk, they need me to help direct traffic around this clusterfuck."
>Honestly, that makes you feel worse
>Like everyone else on scene was doing something
>Except you, because you couldn't handle the sight of a body
>It wasn't like some shocking revelation that you would see death
>And then, when it really counted, you fucked it up
 
***
 
>The ambulance leaves the scene first
>Then the coroner
>Two wreckers
>And the fire department
>All that's left is you and Dash, and the two other Blaik County units who responded
>It didn't take you too long to recover
>But by that point, you figured if you tried jumping in you'd be more a hinderance than an asset
>Better to just ride it out
>There's always next time
>You hear the driver side door open, and Dash steps in
>His nose and cheeks are stung red by the cold
>"Oh, man."
>He strips his bright yellow traffic vest off and stuffs it inside his doors storage compartment, and lets out a sigh as he relaxes in his seat
>"Well, that wasn't too bad."
"Could've gone a lot better."
>He glances over at you
>"Look, here's the thing about bodies, man. Everyone reacts differently, and when you see your first one... well, it fucks with people."
"I guess. I just feel like I pussed out."
>The ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth
>"Yeah, a little. But you'll see more, and you'll toughen up. It's just a matter of getting used to it."
>He pauses
>"Don't let it get to you. As far as first calls go, that was a lot. As the way you reacted... you're human. You've got empathy. Try not to lose that."
>He reaches over to the computer, and begins scrolling through the dispatch log
>"Anyway, the calls have been stacking up, and we're not even close being done for today. So I definitely can't have you up your own ass with moping, because we have a noise complaint to check on."
"I'm good, let's go."
>You meant it
>Any chance to redeem yourself would be welcome
>Even if it was something as trivial as a noise complaint
>Dash puts the cruiser into drive, and pulls out onto the highway
>"Six-delta-twenty to Blaik County, show us ten-eight and responding to the noise complaint on five-sixteen Clearwater Road.'
>...
"So."
>"What's up?"
"How'd you react?"
>"To what? My first body?"
"Yeah. You said everyone reacts different."
>"Well, *I* didn't throw up. But like I said, it fucks with you. It wasn't easy."
"What was it?"
>You're not entirely sure it's an appropriate question, but your curiosity is getting the better of you
>"It was a drowning. A couple kids broke into a public pool at night, and turns out neither could swim."
>He shakes his head
>"The stupidity of some people, right?"
"This was back at your old agency?"
>His eyes snap onto you
>"How'd you know about that?"
>You raise your hands defensively
"George told me this morning."
>Dash squints, his eyes searching you for any signs of dishonesty
>Finding none, his expression softens
>"Yeah. Back when I worked for the Canterlot Police. Things were usually pretty quiet."
>His gaze drops for just a fraction of a second
>"Not like Blaik County though. You'll see and do plenty around here."
"Like... check on noise complaints."
>"Oh, absolutely."
 
***
 
"Ma'am, listen -"
>"No, you listen! You listen, because *that*..."
>The woman jabs the air with a finger
>"That, is what I hear every damn morning!"
>She was referring to generic sounding dubstep pumping from the inside of the house next door
>Honestly, you didn't think it was that loud
>You could barely hear it from the porch
"Ma'am, the current noise ordnance expires after eight in the morning."
>"They're changing that law! I looked it up, they're changing that law any day now!"
"Yes, ma'am, but until the new law takes effect, he's not in violation."
>She huffs and throws her hands in the air, in an exaggerated fashion
>"You don't live here, you don't know what it's like to wake up every day and hear that... that garbage!"
"Have you tried talking to him, and explaining yourself?"
>She glowers at you
"Would you like *me* to talk to him, and ask him to turn the music down?"
>"I'd like you to arrest him."
>You groan inwardly
"Well that isn't going to happen. So I can either leave, and you can call us back when he's actually in violation of the noise ordnance, or I can go talk to him."
>She sighs
>"Well, I guess you can *try*."
>You walk off her porch
>Accross her lawn
>Past your cruiser and Dash, who has an amused smirk on his face
>Across the street
>And up a short flight of poorly maintained wooden stairs, terminating at a small landing
>The music was a lot louder over here
>You reach out and rapidly strike the door with the back of your hand a full dozen times
>Several seconds later, an unshaven, unkempt man dressed in a dark red bathrobe answered the door
>You hope he's wearing underwear under there
>"Sup?"
>"Sir, I'm having trouble hearing you, can you turn down the music?"
>He produces a small remote and mashes a button, silencing his speakers
>Thank God
"Thank you. I'm Officer Mous with the Blaik Couny Police Department. We've recieved a call from one of your neighbors complaining about the volume of your music."
>"Oh yeah? Is that a crime?"
"Well no, sir, but your neighbor is very upset -"
>"Oh yeah... heh. Fuck that bitch, right?"
"Sir, I think she'd really appreciate it if you'd enjoy your music at a lower volume."
>He looks at you
>"Look dude... you just said it's not a crime. So why're you over here harassing me about this?"
"Sir, they are changing the noise ordance to expand the hours it's in effect."
>"Okay, well come back when I'm breaking the law. How about you go and write some speeding tickets until then."
>He shuts the door
>The music comes back on
>Defeated, you make your way back to your car
"Fuck both those guys."
>A raspy laugh escapes Dash's throat
>"Better get used to it. You'll deal with a lot of this. Anyway, that wasn't awful."
>He swivels the computer to face you
>"Start writing up the report."
>You glance at the clock
>It's not even lunchtime yet
>"Blaik County to all district seven unit, respond one-twenty-eight Bluehill Street, one-two-eight Bluehill Street, in reference to a ten-ten."
>"Hey, we got a fight!"
>Dash keys up the radio
>"Six-delta-twenty, en route."
>He hits the lights, siren, and accelerates
>"We're close, we'll probably be the first ones on scene."
>A fight
>*Real* police work
>"Hey, Anon."
"Yeah?"
>"This fights in a residential area. It could be related to a domestic incident, even though they didn't page it out as one."
"Okay."
>"So if we get on scene, and we've got a victim that looks beat all to hell, you keep a close eye on him anyway, because he won't be on our side once we arrest his dad, brother, friend, whoever."
"Got it."
>You had to admit, Dash's ability to multitask was pretty impressive
>Here he was, passing cars and clearing intersections running code three to a fight, all the while talking to you about what you might see when you got on scene
>It doesn't even look taxing for him
>You turn right, down a road lined on both sides with barren trees and modern, suburban homes
>It doesn't take you long to spot the fight
>Thought to call it a fight may be a bit of an exaggeration
>There were two men
>Words had definitely been exchanged, along with some shoves
>But as far as fights go...
>Yeah, this was pretty mild
>A third person was also present
>A woman, who was jumping and swatting at herself
"What the hell?"
>Your cruiser slides to a stop, and Dash kills the siren as he hops out
>You're right behind him
>Dash's autolock baton cracks as he flicks it out to it's full length
>"Police! Break it up!"
>You and Dash, batons in hand, wedge yourselves in between the men and force them apart
>They continue to stare hatefully, though make no movements towards eachother
>The woman, on the other hand, can't stop moving
>"Oh God, get it off me, I can feel it on me!"
Dash yells over his shoulder
>"Ma'am, take it easy!"
>He turns his attention back to the two men who had been fighting
>"Does someone want to explain to me what's going on here?"
>The first man, wearing a heavy work jacket and jeans, volunteers his story.
>"Easy! So I'm here doing some electrical work -"
>He points at a 'Lightning Wiring' van in the driveway of a nearby house
>"- all of a sudden, I see this mother fucker tryin' to attack that woman!"
>The second man, dressed in a suit and overcoat, protests
>"That is a lie!"
>Dash looks at the woman, who is still squirming unconfortably, albiet less violently
>"Ma'am, was this man attacking you?"
>"I don't know what he was doing, he kept trying to stick his fingers in my mouth!"
>You're... not really sure what to make of that
"Fingers in your mouth?"
>The accused man quickly interjects
>"To keep her from choking on her tongue! I was walking to my car when I saw her freaking out, and then she fell over. I assumed she was having a seizure."
>Dash raises his eyebrows
>"Were you having a siezure, ma'am?"
>"Of course not, I want to get that *thing* off me! It's still there, I can still feel it!"
"What thing?"
>"My son's pet! Look, I had it in here -"
>She reaches down and picks a box off the ground, and opens the lid
>"- and it... oh."
>Her face flushes red
>You and Dash peer inside
>It's a short, brown Salamder
>... God dammit.
>Dash lets out a short bark of laughter, and reaches for his radio
>"Six-delta-twenty to Blaik County, we're code four, no further assistance needed."
...
"That was really not what I was expecting."
>"Yeah, no shit, dude."
>You and Dash were back in the interceptor
>Dash, in his infinite kindness, was letting you handle the paperwork
>"But there's actually a good take away from this."
"Yeah? What's that?"
>"You can't always trust what comes over the radio. It's not the dispatchers fault, usually, they're working with that they got. But you'll be surprised how often you respond to a call, and find something you totally aren't expecting."
"Like a salamander."
>"Not just that. Like, this one time we got a call for a domestic. And obviously, you're expecting to find at least two people. But when we get on scene, it's just this one dude standing on a car, ripping his shirt off. Nobody else around that we could find."
"Shit. How'd that end?"
>"Eh, we managed to get him under control. He was on something, obviously."
"Was this in Blaik County?"
>"Nah, Canterlot."
"You know, you made it out to be quiet town, but it sure sounds like some shit went down there."
>Dash is quiet for a moment
>"Yeah."
>Something about his answer seems off
>Something you can't place
>It was the same tone of voice, just missing something
>Missing some energy
>You stop writing your report
"Uh... you okay?"
>"Huh? What?"
"You just seemed kind of... I dunno."
>"Never been better, dude."
>He pauses, and then taps the side of the computer
>"Hey, you done with that shit yet? I'm hungry, I want something to eat."
>"So I'm thinking we hit up that sandwich shop over on Daisy Street."
>You shrug
"Yeah, alright."
>"You ever been there?"
"I've been here like, three days. I've had canned soup, and those cheap subs from Walmart."
>"Oh my God, dude, it's so good. They've got like... everything."
>Sandwhiches
>Sure, why not
>You hadn't had anything to eat since early this morning
>Like, four in the morning early
>And then you'd lost most of your meager breakfast on the side of the highway
"Honestly, I'd eat just about anything right now."
...
>"So what'd I tell ya'? Pretty good, right?"
>You take another bite of your reuben
>It was good, but the way Dash had built things up...
>You're beginning to suspect your FTO may have a tendency to exaggerate things a bit
"It's alright."
>"Alright? Pff. Man, you wouldn't know quality food if it jumped up and bit you in the ass."
>Dash crumples up the paper used to wrap his sandwhich and stuffs it into the bag it came with, and checks his watch
>"Hurry up, dude."
>You swallow
"Hurry up? We've been here fifteen minutes."
>"You are eating like... super slow. I'm don't want to sit here all day waiting."
>You know, Dash isn't aweful
>He's really not
>But he is started to grate on your nerves just a bit
>He's like that one friend you like just fine, but you can only take so much of
>Only you two aren't friends
>And you're pushing eight hours with him
>'Only four more to go', you tell yourself
>Begrudgingly, you finish off your sandwhich in three large bites
>"Well, it's about time."
>The two of you stand up from the booth you were sharing and toss away your trash before making your way to your cruiser outside
>After barely twenty minutes of break, you're back on the road again
>Dash takes you on a quick route out of the city, and onto one of the state's four-highways running through the county
>Traffic was fairly heavy,
>"This highway connects to the interstate about twenty-five miles that way. The posted limits fifty-five, but people come off the interstate doing seventy-five, eighty miles an hour, and never slow down. There's a bunch of back roads that connect, and most of them don't have stoplights, so we'll see some pretty bad t-bone crashes out here."
"So, are we doing traffic enforcement?"
>Dash nods
>"We're not too busy right now, and the sergeant is expecting everyone to run at least some traffic enforcement today. I'd rather not have him on my ass about it."
>You look out your right window as you slowly pass a car
>The driver is an old, steely haired woman, who appears to be giving considerable concentration to the act of driving
>You doubt she even realizes you're there, the way she's rigidly staring down the road
>A flash of silver above her shoulder catches your eye
>It's the metal tongue of her seat belt
"Hey, Dash?"
>"Sup?"
>You point
"That lady isn't wearing her seatbelt."
>You almost feel like a child, telling on the kid in class who's chewing gum
>But Dash just nods
>"Good eye."
>He gently applies pressure to the break
>Her car steadily creeps ahead of you
>Once it's clear, Dash brings the cruiser into the right lane
>"You think she'll survive if we pit her?"
>A look of horror flashes across your face, eliciting a short laugh from Dash
>"Kidding, dude. Lighten up."
>...
>Dammit, Dash
>He hits the lights
>You see the break lights of the car in front of you illuminate in response
>She's probably just now noticing you
>Your cars slow together and pull onto the right shoulder
>"Six-delta-twenty to Blaik County, show us stopped with a light-gray Lincoln Town Car, license plate number charlie-echo-whiskey-seven-six-two."
>"Ten-four."
>"Alright..."
>Dash gestures to the car
>"This is your show."
"Right."
>You step out, intending to execute the classic driver-side approach
>You walk around the rear of your vehicle
>Dash is out now, resting casually against his door, observing you
>"Hey, looks like I taught you something."
>You ignore him and continue your approach
>Stopping just behind the woman's shoulder, you assume an interview stance, with your left side bladed towards her, hands crossed in front of your abdomen, right elbow resting on the handle of your gun
>Her window rolls down, and she stares at you through a pair of very thick glasses
>"What seems to be the problem, Officer?"
"Good afternoon ma'am, I'm Officer Mous with the Blaik County Police. The reason I've stopped you is because I noticed you don't have your seatbelt on."
>Her eyes go wide
>It's almost comical, watching how big they become behind her powerful glasses
>She pulls the belt across her chest and connects it
>"Oh... I'm sorry, Officer, I hope I haven't caused anyone any trouble."
>You smile politely
"No trouble, ma'am, we just want to make sure you're safe, especially with all the snow. Can I see your drivers license and registration, please?"
>"Oh yes... yes, I have them somewhere in here."
>Slowly, she fishes around looking for the requested documents
>So far, so good, Anon
>"I have them right here."
>She holds them up, and you reach in to grab them
>And you clamp down with a death grip as a roar erupts behind you, and a blast of wind tears at your hair and jacket
>Your head snaps around
>Some douchebag in a diseled up truck had passed within feet of you, probably travelling well above the limit
"Piece of shit..."
>Your eyes go wide and your lips press tight
>You look at the old woman who you just swore in front of
>She smiles back at you, giving no indication she'd even heard
>You let out a heavy breath and quickly recompose yourself
"Thank you ma'am. I'll run these and get them right back to you."
>Fuck getting hit by traffic, you turn around and keep an eye on the oncoming vehicles as you make your way back to your car
>Dash, meanwhile, is giving you a disapproving look
>Yeah, whatever man
>Totally my fault I almost got whacked by that truck
>Once back in your cruiser, you run her information
>It's all valid, no wants, no warrants
>You get back out, make your way around your vehicle, and back to the one you have stopped
"Okay, ma'am, your information came back good, and I'm just writing you a warning for the seatbelt."
>You hand her license and registration back
>"Oh, thank you, Officer."
"Have a safe day."
>She pulls away and you return to your vehicle
>Time to see what crawled up Dash's butt
>"Okay, so..."
>He pulls the door shut behind him
>"Where'd you fuck up?"
>What, is he pissed you didn't write her a ticket?
"I dunno."
>"You turned your back on the suspect vehicle."
>...
>Oh
"Well, yeah. But I was trying to watch the oncoming traffic, because it seemed like a bigger threat than some old woman."
>He nods
>"Yeah, I saw you had a close call. Thought about pulling out and chasing that guy down, actually. But you remember what I said this morning about repitition?"
"Yeah."
>"It's these small, basic officer safety things that get people killed. You knew traffic was bad, you should have done a passenger side approach. And just because someone's old doesn't mean they're not a threat. Shitty people grow up too. Don't trust anyone, Anon, not even me."
>He puts the cruiser in drive and pulls out onto the highway
>"So, let's find someone else and run that again."
>He smirks
>"You might even manage to pull it off right, this time."
>"I think you're actually getting the hang of this."
>You shut the car door behind you, completing yet another traffic stop
>Dash pulls off the shoulder and smirks confidently
>"Who's the best FTO ever?"
>You don't dignify that with a response
>Just a couple hours left on your shift
>You're really ready for this day to be over
>After wiping your runny nose on a napkin left over from lunch, you start writing your report
>"Don't start slacking on those just because you've written a thousand of the damn things. Any one of these could end up in court, and if you've written a shitty narrative you'll look like a jackass and it'll destroy your credibility with the jury."
>He probably speaks from experience
>You sigh, trying to bring yourself under control
>The last thing you need is to build up animosity with the guy who's supervising your field training
>It's just...
>Dash doesn't make himself easy to like
>Which wasn't to say you felt like he was working against you, or not on your side
>You had no doubt that if you needed help, he'd be there to back you up
>But he'd also lord it over you and point out how badly you fucked up
>Which, granted, was kind of his job
>But he seemed to get a lot of amsusement out of it
>You finish writing your report, and save it
>It was a short one
>Just a pretty straightforward speeding ticket
"Done."
>"Man, what that makes what? Seven, eight?"
"Yeah, sounds about right."
>"You know, I usually don't care this much about speeders. But you need the experience, so..."
>He shrugs
>"Sucks for them, right?"
"Are we gonna' try for some more?"
>"Nah, I'm about sick of chasing down speeders on this one stretch of highway. Besides, we'll get plenty of time to practice traffic enforcement later."
>He turns off the highway onto a narrow, two lane road
"Where're we going?"
>"We're gonna' change things up a bit and check the backroads."
>Backroads was right
>A dense wall of evergreens grew on either side of the road, in some places their branches stretching out above you
>The yellow paint of the center line was faded and barely visible
>The pavement wasn't especially well done either, and you could feel wheels of your cruiser rolling over imperfections in the blacktop
>It was the very epitome of the road less traveled by
>And yet, it was strangely soothing
>Captivating, in a way
>The snow in the trees
>The dark-gray clouds above you
>"Sometimes I'll come out and just drive these roads."
>You look over at Dash
>His eyes widen just a bit
>You get the feeling that was *a lot* more detail than he'd planned on sharing
>Quickly, he continues
>"Because you never know what you're going to run into out here. Motorists who need help, people moving drugs around, all sorts of stuff."
"Does anyone live out this way?"
>"Yeah, there's a few bubba-redneck types in trailer homes. A couple small neighborhoods. It's pretty undeveloped for the most part, though."
>You cruise along a few miles without ecountering a single other vehicle
>Shit, this place was the middle of fucking nowhere
>You begin to approach a y in the road, where a second small street running at a forty-five degree angle merges with yours
>All of a sudden, an old, white Explorer comes tearing down that road and pulls out in front of you, where he promptly slows way down, presumably after seeing your police car
>You guess he had been going about ten over the limit
>Nothing especially serious
>You're ready to dismiss it, but Dash gently elbows you
>"Hey, what's wrong with this picture?"
>You look the car over
>Like you noted before, it's an older model Explorer, probably from the mid or late nineties
>The rear bumper is crumpled in a few places
>There's a crack in the rear windshield
>The left tail light has a split in the plastic, though both are in working order
>Rust is evident in quite a few places
>And the car is in desperate need of a new paint job
>Nothing you can see that's illegal, though
"Uh... he's got a shitty car?"
>Dash shakes his head
>"Look at that brand-new, overbuilt suspension."
>You look again
>It's suble, but sure enough, Dash is right
>"That doesn't match the rest of that car."
"Okay.'
>You're waiting to see where he goes with this
>"So, what do you think? Guns, drugs, or money?"
"Sorry?"
>"You think he's transporting guns, drugs, or money?"
>You shake your head
"I dunno."
>Dash reaches up and hits the lights
>The car in front of you takes off
>"Six-delta-twenty to Blaik County, ten-eighty in progress, Northbound on Pinegrove Road."
>The radio beeps three times
>"Ten-four. All unit, clear the air, six-delta-twenty is in pursuit."
>"Suspect vehicle is a white Ford Explorer, license romeo-delta-papa-six-one-six."
>Dash tosses you the radio's microphone
>"Here, you keep 'em updated. Look for street signs, turns, all that."
>You nod
>This had taken an unexpected turn
>Not for the first time today, your mind was left playing catch-up
>The road ahead was coming to a T
>The car you're chasing makes a sharp left
>Dash brings your vehicle to a stop, clears both directions, and chases after it
"Left on Green Settlement Road."
>The engine roars as you race to cover lost ground
>This is really not the place you'd pick for a pursuit
>The road is narrow and winding, and you're approaching sixty miles an hour
>Still though, you have to give Dash credit where it's due
>He really knows his way around a car
>Or he seems to, at least
>You hope
>Your quarry attempts another turn, this time to the right
>His rear wheels loose traction, the car spins, hits the shoulder, flips once completly and comes to rest right-side-up, with the passenger door pinned against a thick pine tree
>Dash brings your vehicle to a complete stop and snatches the radio back
>"Suspect vehicle is ten-fifty at the intersection of Green Settlement and Thompson, possible injures."
>He bails out of the cruiser, drawing his gun and charging towards the crashed Explorer
>You're right behind him
>Dash brings his pistol to bear on the driver
>"Hands on the dash! Get your hands on the dash!"
>Man, that's a great quote to take without context
>The driver complies, spreading his hands on the dashboard
>"Don't you fuckin' reach down!"
>For your part, you're content to let Dash give the orders
>"Anon, I'm gonna' have him step out. When he does, I want you to cuff him. I've got you covered. Ready?"
>You nod
"Good to go."
>He reaches for the handle and pulls the door open
>"Get out! Get on the ground!"
>Slowly, the dazed man steps out and collapses into the snow
>"Hands on top of your head."
>You holster your Glock 31 and grab your first set of cuffs off your belt
>Kneeling, you fasten one cuff to one wrist, and then bring both behind his back to secure the other
>"Six-delta-twenty, one in custody, roll us a 10-52 and a wrecker."
>Dash sticks his gun back in his own holster, and lets out a sigh'
>He slaps you on the shoulder
>"Not bad."
 
***
 
>"Yo, Anon, check it out!"
>Dash was waving you over to the rear of the vehicle
>Two backup units and a fire engine had arrived on scene, the driver was sitting in the ambulance, and the wrecker you had called for was still en route
>Hopefully, whatever Dash has to show you is worth all the trouble
>You walk over to him
>...
>Oh, shit
>Yeah, that's probably what you'd call 'worth it'
>The trunk of the car is laden down is packaged white powder, and an assortment of weapons of varying type and configuration
>Dash reaches in with a gloved hand and pulls out a Hi-Point C9
>"Look at this fine, American firearm."
>He sets it back down
"Damn. It looks like you were right."
>"Pff. Of course I'm right."
"So, who do you think this guy's with?"
>Dash shrugs
>"Ehh, that's question for the narcotics guys. I'm just happy we got 'em."
>You hear boots crunching snow as George walks up
>"So, the EMTs are sayin' this guy needs a stay in the hospital."
>Dash groans
>"Oh, that's good. I'll arrange for the guys coming on shift to provide security."
>He begins walking badk towards your cruiser
>You move to follow, but George reaches out and touches your shoulder
>"Hey, Anon."
"Yeah, what's up?"
>"Me and some of the guys are heading out to the bar once we clear off shift. You're welcome to join us."
"Oh, really? Cool, man, thanks."
>"So, I can expect to see you there?"
>You think it over
>You're kind of tired, and you've got work in the morning
>But it seems like a pretty good way to meet some of your colleagues
>And you can't imagine turning down the offer would make a great impression
"Yeah, I'll be there."
>"Cool. We'll meet up in the station break room."
>A thought occurs to you
"Is Dash going to be there?"
>"You can invite him if you want, but I wouldn't expect him to show. Like I said, he's kind of a loner outside of work."
>The wrecker pulls up on scene, and George starts back towards his car
>"I'll see you around five-thirty, five-forty-five
-
>After twelve long hours, your first shift was winding down
>You and Dash were smoothly cruising along
>The clouds had thinned and the setting sun was poking through, casting a gentle orange glow
>With a sigh, you relax in your seat
>You'd written some tickets, ran a few calls, and caught a drug trafficker
>Overall, not too bad as far as first days go
>You'd certainly had worse
>As you draw nearer to the station, something Dash said earlier tugs at your mind
"Hey, Dash?"
>"Yeah?"
"What did you mean when you said I shouldn't trust you?"
>"Oh, that?"
>He chuckles
>"That's something my old FTO said to me. Listen, in this job you're going to have *a lot* of people lying to you. Shit, I've had some guy try and tell me his coke belonged to his mother. But it's not just stuff like that, ya' know? Like, if I tell you I think a gun is clear when I hand it to you, and it turns out it's not..."
>He shrugs
>"I guess the lesson is, you don't just take someone's word for it. You look at the facts, what you know, you check it out, and you make your own decision."
>A few minutes pass by in silence
"So, George invited me out for some drinks after work."
>Dash leans in closer to you, grinning
>"Ooh, you two lovebirds hit it off?"
>You huff and ignore that comment
"He said you're welcome to come, if I wanted to invite you."
>Dash's sarcastic smirk fades
>"Oh."
>You see something behind his eyes, though you're not sure what
>You wait for a reply, but Dash isn't talking
"So, what? Are you coming?"
>Dash's mouth opens and he breathes in to answer, but then stops and his jaw snaps together again
>For the first time since you've met him, he really looks unsure of himself
>He smiles awkwardly and scratches behind his ear
>"No, man, I've got stuff to do tonight. I'll be busy."
"Okay."
>You doubt his story, but you're not going to press the issue
>If this is how Dash acts every time someone invites him somewhere, you understand his reputation for keeping to himself
 
***
 
>At five-thirty you step into the station's break room, after grabbing a change of cloths from your car
>George is there, along with three other men you don't know
>Not that that meant much - you only know him and Dash
>But they do look vaguely familiar
>You probably saw them all in the squad room this morning
>George greets you
>"Hey, Anon, good to see you show up."
>You flash a mock smug-grin
"Hey, it's *always* good to see me show up."
>This prompts a rough cackle from one of the officers
>"Aw, shit. Dash is already rubbin' off on him."
>George glances around
>"Oh, speaking of, I don't see him. Did you invite him?"
"Yeah, but he said he was busy. And he was kind of weird about it, too."
>He nods
>"Yep, sounds like Dash. You ask him somewhere, and he clams up like a mother fucker."
>Another officer holds up his index finger
>"One time. We got him to show up exactly once, when we played baseball against the fire department. He's weird, but lemme tell ya' - that dude can *run*."
>He sniggers
>"Damn hose-draggers couldn't catch him once."
"Oh, yeah, I think he said something about exercising on his down time."
>George glances at his watch
>"Well, hey, we should get going. Anon, We'll get you acquainted on the way."
>The five of you shuffle out of the break room and make your way towards the front entrance
>"Oh, by the way, I don't know if I mentioned it..."
"Yeah?"
>He clasps your shoulder
>"New guy DDs."
>...
>"You bastard."
>The group breaks into frenzied guffaw
 
***
 
>The bar is about a five minute drive from the station
>It's dimly illuminated
>Noisy
>The wooden floor is scuffed and gouged from years of wear
>And the whole place smells like fried food
>George walks up to you, holding a glass containing a dark amber liquid and grinning like a madman
>"Hey, Anon. You, uh, you havin' fun?"
>Your deadpan expression sends him into a fit of giggles, and he taps a finger against your bottle
>"You celebrating today's victory with a nice root beer?"
>You lift your bottle to your lips and take a sip of the sweet, bubbly liquid
>He has a seat at your table, with the three others following close behind
>"So, man..."
>You try to remember the name of the one speaking
>Duke, you think
>Duke, something
>Mustang?
>It was something horsey
>"Tell us about riding with Dash."
>You set down your soda
"Well, he's not terrible..."
>"Yeah, but he's not great either, right?"
>You think back to this morning
>Back to when you found that dead body
>And how Dash pulled you off the side of that highway
>You start to feel some discomfort worm its way into your chest
>I mean, you're not in love with the guy
>But it still doesn't feel quite right to shit talk him behind his back like this
"Nah, Dash is... Dash is good."
>One of the other officers, you don't really remember his name, lets out a huff
>"Yeah, well don't let him hear that. That shit'll go right to his head."
>Duke groans
>"Oh my God, you're right."
>He turns to you
>"The man's in love with himself."
>"What, no way -"
>It's a different officer
>Kevin, you think
>You didn't catch his last name
>"- you see how he sits around all mopey and shit, right? The guy's whacked."
>He looks left and right, as if checking to make sure Dash isn't around, and leans in
>"Look, I got a friend who says he saw 'em with a tampon one day."
>"What? You're bullshitting, how would he even see that?"
>Kevin waves his hands as he trys to explain
>"It fell out of his pocket!"
>You try and come up with an explanation
"Well, you can use tampons to plug bullet wounds. Maybe that's it?"
>"No, no, listen, because when my buddy asked about it he got all weird."
>"Weird?"
>George takes a sip of his drink
>"What's weird?"
>"I dunno, man... *weird*! Like, he tried to play it off cool, but something was up. My buddy swears it's true."
>"Ahh, your buddies full of shit."
>"No, man!"
>Kevin looks directly at you
>"You need to keep an eye out, if you're gonna' be spending all that time with him."
>George steps in
>"Okay, enough talk about work. Duke, I heard you rebuilt the engine on that old seventy-one Camero."
>"Oh, yeah man..."
>The rest of the night passes as a loud blur
>That was certainly some unexpected information you'd recieved about Dash
>Though to be fair, a 'my buddy swears' story told by a police officer who'd had a few shots...
>Not exactly the most reliable source of information
>One by one, you drop off your coworkers at their homes until only George remains, occupying the front passenger seat
>You pull up to his apartment complex
"Alright, this is your stop."
>He pats your shoulder
>"Thanks, man."
>He reaches for the door, and hesitates
>"Hey, listen. Don't let anything the guys said give you a bad impression of Dash. I know him a little better than most of the guys on shift, and yeah he's weird, but he's still a good guy."
"Yeah, I'll be sure not to do that. Have a good night."
>"See ya' around."
>He exits your car and makes his way inside the building
>You begin the drive back to your own apartment, when you notice something's off
>It takes you a second to realize
>It's quiet
>You're alone
>All day, you'd been riding with or talking to someone
>And now, it's just you
>You relax in the silence as you pull up to your building and park your car
>Finally, you'll get a little bit of time for yourself
-
>Your alarm tears you out of your sleep
>Groaning, you sit up in your bed and mash your clocks button
"Ugh..."
>Four o'clock came a lot faster than you'd hoped for
>Taking a moment to mentally prepare yourself, you slide out of bed and head for your bathroom
>Shit
>Shower
>Shave
>There's your three morning essentials taken care of
>You pull on one of your uniforms and strap on your duty belt
>After fiddling with the belt keepers a bit, you've got everything attached nice and comfortable
>A quick inspection of your cupboard reveals your rather limited options
"Soup it is..."
>Sighing, you select a plastic tub of chicken-noodle and set it in the microwave
>You really need to go shopping
>At least you've got plenty of coffee
>Grabbing the pot that had been on auto-brew, you fill up your thermos
>The microwave beeps, and you grab the travel-cup of soup
>A meal fit for a king
>Thermos in one hand, your meager breakfast in the other, you make out to the elevator
>The man working the lobby of your building barely looks up as you pass him
>The cold bites at your face as you step outside and head for your car
>Day two
>Here we go
 
***
 
>You find the squad room with no trouble this time
>Dash is sitting in the back of the room
>He looks irritated again, though it doesn't seem to be directed towards anything or anyone
>Maybe he just looks like that in the morning
>You yawn, still feeling the weight of sleep tugging at your eyes
>Frankly, you can't say you blame him
>"Hey, look who came back for round two."
>You take the seat next to George
"Yeah, I've got like twenty more years of this before I can retire."
>"You could be like that one dude who quit after his first day."
"What?"
>"Oh yeah. Got through his first shift just fine, and he never shows up again. We're all standin' around like 'where's the new guy' - found out a few weeks later he just quit."
"Oh, damn."
>"Yep. Had to pay back the cost of his training to the department."
"That can't be cheap."
>The sergeant enters the room, clutching a stack of manilla folders, and checks everyones name off his roster
>"Okay, good morning everyone. Welcome back, once again, to the zero-five-hundred to seventeen-hundred shift. Today, police presence in the downtown areas is going to be a big thing, in addition to running our normal patrols. So at any given time we'll have a few units semi-stationary, focusing on one area. So -"
>He slaps the folders down on the table
>"- every unit needs to grab one of these and read over what's inside, because there's info about locations, timelines, basically everything you need to make this go smooth and painless. So, as always, if you need to contact me, you can do so by radio or phone."
>You stand up along with everyone else and grab a radio from the charging bank
>Dash picks up a file folder, and you meet by the door leading to the car park
>He pushes through the door and you follow
>"Alright..."
>He gestures towards your Interceptor Utility
>"You know the drill. Same as yesterday."
>Yeah, nice to see you too, Dash
>You slide into the driver's seat, check the lights and sirens, and walk around the back to the car to the passenger side
>You and Dash take your seats, and he opens the folder to check the instructions
>"Oh fuck yeah, we've got that 'downtown presence' thing from nine to one, and it's right in the middle of all these shops and restaurants. Dude, we can do whatever we want for lunch."
>Well, at least there was something that could cheer him up
>You make note of that
>If Dash is every pissy, maybe you can feed him something to get him off your ass
>"Six-delta-twenty to Blaik County, we're ten-eight from the station."
...
"So, Dash, how was your stuff?"
>He cocks an eyebrow
>"What?"
>You repeat yourself
"Your stuff, how was it?"
>Dash squints at you
>"Dude, I've got no clue what the hell you're talking about."
"You know, the stuff you had to do last night? The stuff that you were gonna' be busy with?"
>His eyes widen
>"Oh, that stuff. Uh... yeah, it was good."
>You smirk, just a bit
>His lie is really transparent
"Yeah? It was good stuff?"
>"Look, man, is there something you're trying to say?"
"You know, if you don't want to go somewhere with someone you can just say you're not interested, right? If you come up with a story about how you're busy, it's kinda' off-putting."
>You meant that with the best of intentions
>The rest of the squad didn't seem to have an especially high opinion of Dash, but you figured maybe that could be overcome if he'd just act a little more... normal
>Dash, however, does not appreciate your efforts
>"Oh wow, maybe."
>His voice drips with venom
>"Or maybe you shut the fuck up and mind your own business!"
>Yeah, that went well
>Not really sure what to say, you shut the fuck up and mind your own business, staring out the windsheild
>An incredibly tense minute passes
>Then you hear Dash sigh heavily
>"Okay, look dude... I'm sorry. I shouldn't've snapped at you like that."
>He pauses
>"And I guess you're right, it'd be better to just be honest. It's just... I really don't want to talk about it."
"Oh, no, it's okay. You clearly didn't want to talk about it, I shouldn't have pressed you. So, uh... I'm sorry."
>Dash is looking a little better
>"Yeah, well... you should be. Buy me lunch though and we'll call it good."
>You frown
>Dash was pushing his luck a little
>But in the interest of maintaining peace, you decide you can afford to make a concession
"I'll buy you coffee. A *medium* coffee."
>The trace of a smile plays on his lips
>"Good enough."
>Other than that, the morning passes with relative ease and it isn't long before the two of you find yourselves sitting in a parking lot, observing a long strip of small shops that lined the streets
>Decorative lights hang from the light-posts, and candy-cane banners are strung along the tops of the stores
>Crowds of people move up and down the sidewalk, in and out of stores
>Even for a cold day, it doesn't look so bad
>You watch a small family of three walk hand-in-hand past your patrol car
"Hey Dash?"
>He looks at you
"Do you want to have kids?"
>He stares at you
>"What?"
>You jerk your thumb towards the family
"You think you'd ever want kids?"
>He seems to relax a bit
>"Oh. I dunno. I'm not really the lovey, nurturing kinda' person, ya' know?"
>You could certainly agree with that
>"And I gotta' think about the job, and how all that time off would set me back..."
"Oh, so you're the kinda' guy that would take off from work to help with the kid, huh?"
>That was actually a surprising bit of news
>Dash, however, seemed more confused than anything
>"What? Of course I'd... oh. I mean... yeah! Of course I'd take off to help raise the kid."
>You're not sure what about that could have been unclear to him, but hey...
"Good for you, man. I'm sure some lucky lady'll be really happy to hear that. Or... you know, some lucky guy."
>He glowers at you
>You shrug
"Hey, I'm not judgey."
>"Anon?"
"Yeah?"
>"Stop talking."
 
***
 
>And that was how most days went with Dash
>For each day you were on shift
>For the next three weeks
>And that wasn't to say there wasn't any instruction going on
>Dash certainly did his job as an FTO
>But in the time you spend together, the two of you got to know eachother
>Or at the very least, understand eachother
>Dash's smug, brash attitude...
>That' just him
>It' part of the way he socializes
>While it certainly had the propensity to be annoying, he didn't *really* mean anything by it
>It wasn't a close friendship
>Not exactly
>It was more of awkward companionship
>One forged through your equally awkward conversations
>Never outside of work though, that doesn't change
>Eventually, you just accept it
>Things are going steady
>So steady, in fact, that it's getting boringly routine
>And as you sit in the squad room on Christmas day, day one of the night shift, your first thought is that you've done this a few times
>"Good evening, everyone."
>The sergeant enters the room, wearing a Santa hat
>Totally deadpan in the face of the sniggers he received
>"Happy holidays, merry Christmas, whatever you prefer. It's that time again - we've swapped times with the other shift. So, welcome to the seventeen-hundred to zero-five-hundred shift. Special concerns for tonight: obviously it's Christmas, so drinking, domestic issues, unlawfully discharging firearms within the city limits, noise complaints, parties. And we've got a lot of people out of town tonight, so break-ins, if you see someone that looks out of place don't be afraid to challenge that person and ask what they're doing."
>He sets down his clipboard
>"So, guys, since nobody on the street is going to say it to you, I really appreciate you comin' out and working tonight, even though you don't really have a choice. I understand a lot of you have family and friends you'd rather be seeing, but nights like tonight are when someone's gotta' be there to maintain order. So, with that, have a good night."
 
***
 
>"Six-delta-twenty to Blaik County, we're ten-eight from the station."
"Oh my God, it's gotten cold."
>You direct the heat from the air vents onto yourself
>"Uh, yeah. It's winter, dude."
"I'm from the southern part of the state, it doesn't get this cold there. It's like ten, fifteen degrees colder up here than what I'm used to."
>You raise your thermos of coffee to your lips, eager for a drink of the hot beverage
>The vehicle lurches, slowing just enough throw the liquid in the thermos forward, away from your waiting lips
>You try it again, and are met with the same result
>Dammit, Dash, what're you breaking for, there's nothing out here
>Once more you go in for a sip, and you suck in nothing but air
>You look at Dash
"Stop."
>He returns your gaze with a blank expression
>"What?"
"You keep breaking."
>"Yeah I'm breaking, I'm driving a car."
>His expression remains unchanged
>You're not buying it
"Every time I try to take a sip, you slow the car so down my coffee..."
>Unsure of how to vocalize it, you repeatedly stab forward with your finger to indicate the movement of your drink
>Dash nods his head slowly
>"I'm uh... making your coffee do *that*, huh?"
"It's inertia, you dip!"
>"Right. Well, I'm sorry."
>He goes back to staring out the windshield
>You squint at Dash for a few moments
>He might be telling the truth
>Cautiously, you raise your thermos up to your mouth
>He breaks
"You bitch!"
>Dash's composure shatters, and he howles rough laughter
>"Oh my God, Anon!"
>Tears of laughter roll from his eyes
>He does a poor imitation of your voice
>"Oh no, I can't drink my coffee."
>He mimes you, jabbing his index finger forward
>"Oh no, what's happening?"
>Dash goes back to choking on laughter
"Are you done?"
>Wheezing, he brings himself under control
>He takes a deep breath, and looks at you
>And the laughter starts right up again
>"It was just so perfect!"
>You feel your mouth tighten into a grin
>Then you chuckle
>Then you join right in with Dash's cackle
>He's got a surprisingly girly laugh
>It's rough, and grainy
>But it still has a distinct, feminine squeal
>The laughter winds down
>"Oh my God, that was good."
"Okay, it was a litle funny."
>"A little? That's the best joke you'll see all night. Brought to you by yours truly."
>He glances at the cruisers clock
>"Oh, speaking of night, let's go grab some dinner."
"Now?"
>"Yeah, now."
>He points to the radio
>"Things are quiet now, they won't stay that way for long."
"We'll just get hungry later on and have to eat again."
>"I'm okay with that."
"How do you eat so much and not get fat?"
>He shrugs and turns down a road leading into the city
 
***
 
>You sigh when you see Dash's choice
"Oh good, sandwhiches."
>"Don't be such a bitch. You can pick where we eat later."
"Which is the meal I *don't* want to have."
>Dash is already out of the cruiser, and not listening
>With a groan, you unbuckle and follow him inside
>The two of you are standing in line, when you hear a female voice sound off behind you
>"Well, well, well. Rainbow Dash."
>The two of you turn and come face-to-face with an orange-haired woman who looked to be about Dash's age
>Dash's eyes open wide, and she sucks in a sharp breath
>"Spitfire."
>The woman, Spitfire, shoots an arm around Dash's shoulder and squeezes him into a side-hug
>You had never seen Dash look so uncertain before
>So out of his element
>His eyes keet shifting between you and Spitfire
>"How long's it been, girl? Five, six years?"
>Wait, what?
>Had you heard that right?
>"Uhm... yeah."
>Dash is looking at you now, rising panic evident on his face
>"So, you're still doing the cop thing, huh? The new, *responsible* Dash?"
>Spitfire turns her attention to you
>"Don't let her fool ya', she and I used to raise all kinds of hell."
>She looks back at Dash
>"Anyway, great seeing ya'. Hit me up if you're ever in Canterlot."
>She releases Dash from her grasp and goes back to her table
>Dash locks eyes with you for a moment, and heads for the door
>"Let's go."
"But we haven't ordered yet!"
>"I'm not hungry."
>Without checking to see if you're following, Dash plows through the doors and heads back to the cruiser
>You glance around the room and spot Spitfire
"Hey, you!"
>She freezes
>That had come out with a little more force than you intended
"You called Dash a she."
>Spitfire cocks an eyebrow
>"Uh... yeah. You know, she? As in, a girl?"
>She pauses, and narrows her eyes at you
>"You do know what a girl is, right?"
"What? Yes, I know what a girl is."
>"Okay... so can I leave?"
>Without a word you wave her on
>This is a lot to take in
>Slowly, you make your way out to the patrol car
>The tinted glass makes it hard to see, but you think you can make out a silhouette of someone slumped forward
>You open the passenger door, and slide inside
>Dash is there, with... *her* head resting against the steering wheel
"Dash..."
>She rotates her head just enough to look at you
>There's tears welling up in her eyes
>She looks away again
"Dash, it's okay."
>She rounds on you suddenly
>"No it's not!"
>Tears are flowing freely now, and her voice is a couple octaves higher than normal
>"It's not okay! It's... I can't..."
>She burries her face in her hands and turns away from you
>You can hear her sobbing softly, but you don't know what to do
>So you just stay quiet
>Eventually her sobs fade, but she remains faced away
>"Anon?"
"Yes?"
>"Whatever you do, you can't tell anyone. You have to promise you won't tell anyone."
"I won't. Your secret's safe."
>"... thanks."