Jordan glanced at her reflection in the darkened storefront window and smiled slightly to herself, tugging the skirt of her Melrose Place tailored suit a fraction of an inch down. The look was perfect, pastel, smart but sexy business suit, long charcoal trench, hat, briefcase and a copy of Newsweek folded under her arm.

She used the same window to check her immediate surroundings, then continued to the bus stop that was her destination. Three women had been attacked in the last two weeks at similar stops, all pink collar professionals, all brutally beaten and robbed. "We're in for a little surprise tonight, mister" she whispered gleefully to the unknown assailant, feeling her adrenaline start to kick in as she sat down and unfolded her magazine.

"You say something, Jordy?" Blake asked her from the monitering van a half block away. Damn, his equipment was good!. Her grin just got bigger, and she had to concentrate on cutbacks in educational budgets to kill it.

"That's negative, Blake, just talking to myself."

"Anything yet?"

"Nope, give him time, it's still early. I've got almost thirty minutes til the ten forty gets here. Out."

"Keep cool. Out."

Almost half an hour, and then her partner would have to take over as "victim". Maia was just as eager to get this bastard as she was, but Jordan really hoped he would pick on her. She'd spoken to each of his victims, and she didnt plan to be overly concerned with not scuffing him up while arresting him. She could feel the steel of her handcuffs slapping around his wrists,and..footsteps. Every nerve a tensed steel wire, Jordan glanced over as a nice, clean cut young man in a khaki windbreaker sat down next to her. It was her guy!

She could feel him calculating her worth as she pretended to read her magazine. He leaned over and said "Excuse me, miss, do you have the time?" and it was showtime!

"The time?" she said, in a sweet, somewhat timid voice, "oh, yes," Jordan turned back her cuff to reveal a dainty gold watch. "It's ten ten, it'll be here in about twenty minutes." She smiled and he grinned, unpleasantly.

"That's plenty of time for you to give me that watch, sweetheart" he growled, showing her a long bladed knife in his jacket. He hadnt stabbed his victims, he has threatened them into submission then beaten them viciously.

In a practiced, panicked looking move, Jordan dropped her briefcase beside her and scrabbled frantically through the papers saying ,"I've got my wallet here, just dont hurt me!"

He was still grinning when she held up her shield and nudged his chin with her gun. "I think I'll be a little too busy arresting you to give you my watch, buddy boy. Now! Down on the ground and spread 'em!"

He hesitated and she cocked the hammer, loudly."I said, get down, pretty boy!!" She eased to a standing position as he slithered off the bench, she heard running footsteps behind her. "Identify yourself, I'm a police officer!"

"Jordan, where the hell is your backup?" a familiar voice asked and she turned away from her prisoner in shock.

"Peter? what are you doing...ahrghh!"

The suspect had taken advantage of her distraction to kick her feet out from under her and take off, with Peter behind him like a shot. He landed the guy with a flying tackle, then turned to see Jordan and Maia, faces like twin thunderclouds, standing over them. Jordan knelt to frisk and cuff the guy, while Maia icily thanked Peter for his "assistance". Jordan, on the other hand, only recited Miranda and escorted their prisoner to the waiting police car. She didnt return and Maia gathered up her things, heading for the car as well.

"Wait a minute here, what did I do? I helped and I get the silent treatment?" Peter hovered around Jordan's desk as she tried, for the third time, to type her report into the computer.

Finally, goaded beyond politeness, she turned and glared at him. "Caine, I'm busy here!! Go back to your desk or shut up!!"

"Fine, this is the thanks I get for saving your life!" Peter turned and headed out, swearing but Jordan was already on her feet.

"Outside, now!" she hissed as she slammed past him, out a fire exit door and down the iron stairs to the alley below. Peter followed her and, reaching the pavement found himself looking at her back. She had taken off the trench and suit jacket and stood there in pale silk blouse and creamy short skirt, and his anger melted away. She'd had a rough day, was probably still working off the scare she'd had, he reasoned, and slipped his arms around her. "Aw, Jordy, dont worry abouow!!"

Jordan looked down at her lover, flat on his back in the paperstrewn alley. Her blonde hair was curling damply over her head, and her cheeks were flaming with anger. "Sure, Pete, just turn on the charm and everything's all right, is that the answer? I'm angry with you and I dont want to kiss and make up until you understand why."

"I'd sure like to understand why you tossed me." he responded, standing up and brushing garbage from his denim jacket and out of his hair. To be on the safe side, he dusted the seat of his jeans too, but it cost him his superior stance. Impossible to swat your butt and be superior at the same time.

"Because whenever we have an argument lately you just take me to bed and assume everything is settled." Her arms were crossed over her chest and she hugged herself, not because of any chill in the air. "Pete, what were you doing at my stakeout? You're not assigned to the case, and today is your day off."

"What, I can't worry about you? I just wanted to lend you and Maia a hand. What's wrong with that?" He sounded righteously aggrieved and Jordan wanted to hit him, again.

"It's customary to inform the participants in a stakeout if you;re planning to crash it. What if Jeffries had stabbed me instead of tripping me when you distracted me? I was expecting my backup, Maia, and my boyfriend flys in like an avenging angel."

"You needed backup!" He protested.

"I HAD backup! Maia's a damn good partner, Pete, and you interfered in her stakeout too. SHe's getting a little sick of these hero plays of yours and frankly, so am I! I feel like you dont think I can do my job!"

"Well, dammit, do you have to do something so dangerous? You could transfer to Homicide, any of the guys would be glad to have you and Maia as partners, and you'd be off Vice."

"As a matter of fact, I LIKE Vice! And Maia and I are a team. Why the hell would we want to split up?"

"Because it's dangerous to you both, to have a partner who is a ..." Peter caught himself, but not soon enough, and outrage in the form of a petite blonde fury exploded at him.

"I don't believe... Admit it! Admit that you SAID that, Peter!" Jordan truly couldn't believe her ears. The man that she thought she knew, loved, lived with.. a fellow cop! That he could have this side that she knew nothing about....

Peter looked a little shamefaced,but he tried to stick to his guns. "Jordy, I just meant, I mean, you and Maia, you're both so delicate looking. I hate to see you get all banged up the way I do."

"What about Skaleny? I dont see you applying for a transfer from her!" A carefully laid trap....

And Peter fell into it headfirst. "Hey, Skaleny is a good cop! She's tough, and smart and," he grinned engagingly, turning the patented Caine charm on high, "She's got me to back her up."

"So," Jordan spoke slowly, with emphasis. "You dont worry about Mary Margaret because she's such a good cop, tough , smart??"

"Right! And like I said.."

"Yes, she's got you to back her up. Therefore, you worry about me because.....I'm not a good cop?"

Satisfied with the dumbfounded look on his face, she nodded. "Think about it, lover, and get back to me. I'll see you at home." and Jordan briskly walked out of the alley and ran up the steps to the front door of the precinct.

Peter stood in the alley, turning the conversation over in his mind. "What just happened here?" he asked himself, aloud, "and why do I get this feeling that my Pop wouldnt have lost this argument?" He made a face, "Who am I kidding? Pop wouldnt have HAD this argument."

He sighed, and made his own way back to his desk. He had a lot of crow to eat and he planned to contact Caine for a good recipe.

"Before I knew it, Dad, I was wrong and she was right, but I dont know how it happened." Peter drank the tea his father had poured at a gulp, and Caine patiently poured another cup ,and sipped at his own.

"Are you certain that you were right, my son?" he asked mildly, in just the sort of tone that always made Peter sure he'd blown it somewhere.

"Well, yes, as a matter of fact. Jordy is my girlfriend, Pop. I dont want her out there getting beaten up and god knows what by some thug! Why should she be so mad that I want to protect her?"

Caine shrugged. "Perhaps she does not wish protection."

"Oh, that's just great. I come here looking for answers and I get bubkes. Would you have protected my mother? " and Peter looked down, trying to correct his slip, "Or Mary Margaret. You'd look out for her, right?"

"If we were..together, or if I sensed danger, of course I would protect her. I would not follow her as she does her job, however. She would not..I think...thank me for showing so little confidence in her abilities."

That hit home with his son. He saw the look that said Peter was thinking hard, and drank more tea. Caine the younger could be led, but not forced and he would have to come to his own conclusions.

Peter Caine was doing paperwork. Three people had already inquired about his health and mental well being and been snapped at for their consideration. He knew he was irritable, but dammit! He had good reason. When he had gotten home the night before, Jordan was already asleep in their bed, curled up in one of his old flannel shirts, and his heart had hurt watching her sleep. When he joined her, though, she hadnt turned and cuddled up to him as she usually did, as if she were angry even in her sleep. Peter had spent the night stiff and restless on his side of the bed, painfully aware of the woman sleeping soundly beside him. She had left for work ahead of him, with a quick kiss that tasted of the juice she had been chugging, with something about "special project, hon. Gotta be there or miss out!" and she was gone in a whirl of Shalimar.

Now he sat, grimly working his way through the stacks of paperwork he hadnt been able to con Skalany into doing, knowing that Jordan was closeted with Simms, her partner Maia and Chief Strenlich. They'd been in there for hours, and he'd heard no rumours of this "special assignment". Why couldnt she just....do something else? With her sweet smile and soft voice, she'd be great visiting schools, teaching kids about safety, inspiring little girls to grown up and become...a smart ass vice cop with attitude to spare. In his current frame of mind he wouldnt wish that on any parent, or future boyfriend.

Jordan, on the other hand, wasnt stewing over Peter or their argument. She was perched on the windowsill in the Captain's office, listening to the details of her new assignment and occasionally exchanging gleeful glances with Maia.

A recent slew of locally produced pix, "for the discriminating gentleman", featuring the oh-so-well-bred daughters of rather prominent people had the city fathers up in arms. The girls shared innocent good looks, wealthy families, and a common school, Eyre Academy. A toney boarding school just outside of town, the Academy was known for producing Seven Sisters legacies, not porn queens. Vice had been interested from the first appearance of these pix, more so because they were being sold commercially rather than used for blackmail. Recently, however, the distributers had upped the ante and made Vice willing to go undercover in a high school to catch them. The last batch of photos had been increasingly abusive, and the girls in them were smiling through tears. The police commisioner was concerned that they would get worse, until one of the schoolgirls was murdered for this "art". Captain Simms was as well.

Jordan felt the familiar surge of outrage and anger, felt it burst into the steady hot flame of her number one desire "to get the bad guys." Whomever, whereever. An uncontrollable grin swept over her face, she caught Maia's eye and saw the same grin. To them, "the dynamic duo" wasnt just a Vice nickname. They believed in it, complete with ZAPS, BOOMS and KA-POWS! Neither Peter nor Shelby (Maia's live in) had understood the superhero costumes the partners had worn at last years Halloween party, but an indentical copy of the snap taken there hung in each locker, "for inspiration" as Maia said. Jordan always agreed, sans smile.

So, armed with a clothing voucher, Jordan spent the afternoon searching out the kind of fashion she had discarded upon graduation from the private school she had attended back home. Maia, the bitch, was going in as a French teacher/tutor, thanks to her excellent command of the language from her life in Vietnam. She was required to dress "up" and classically tailored silk dresses, fine wools and crisp linens were already the mainstay of her clothing. She was spared the last minute shopping, and hadnt offered to help her partner, Jordy would have been upset, but she knew that Maia was off making sure their covers would be perfect. The details woman, that was Detective Maia Reynard.

When Peter walked in after work, Jordan was modelling her outfit for the first day of school. Snug charcoal wool skirt, man tailored white shirt and a pale pink sweater, with white stockings and plain black flats. When she turned to greet him, her blonde curls spun with her like dandelion fluff and her make up was all innocent pinks. She looked about fifteen and he stared. She giggled at the look on his face. Being excited about her new assignment, and satisfied with the way their argument had ended, Jordan wasnt interested in holding a grudge.

"So, what do you think?" She twirled on her flat heels, arms outstretched and he shook his head.

"I think..I think I'm not allowed to appreciate how good you look. You look like the girls that wouldnt date me in high school." His hazel eyes were warm with admiration as Peter watched her spin.

"It's for our new job, Pete, and you're partly right, I am officially a high school girl again." She stopped and walked over to him, smiling, and put her arms around his neck. "I've forgotten how those old school dances went though. Could you help me remember?"

His arms circled her waist and snugged her against him, and they danced slowly, without music, barely moving their feet. Memories of wooden gym floors and crepe paper decorations filled their eyes as they looked at each other, and with a sigh, Peter put his head on her shoulder. Jordan leaned her cheek against his dark hair, and they moved together in the semidusk.

"Those girls who wouldnt date you in high school were morons, lover." she murmured, and caught his little boy look of doubt just before she kissed him, his cheek, his hair, his lips. They stayed locked that way, breathing easy and slow, sharing long innocent kisses from the far off past, borrowed for a night.

Next morning, the Intrepid Girl Detective, as Jordan had mentally titled herself, was up and at 'em, brushing a kiss across Peter's forehead as she passed from the shower to her closet. "Good thing this material doesnt wrinkle easily." she told him , in her running half monologue with the sleeping man, "Sister Mary James would have been putting a ruler between us for sure, if that had been a dance at my school."

He roused himself enough to open an eye and comment, "At my high school, if you werent actually requiring contraceptives on the dance floor, no one said a word." he shut the eye, but opened both as a thought occured to him. "Just what is it you're going to be doing over there, anyway? Someone steal the Homecoming Queen's tiara?"

Her breezy, nonchalant presentation had him up out of the bed, draped in a sheet as he tried to make his point and keep his dignity. He kept hauling his dignity back into place as he argued. "Jordan, you told me that you hated the private school you went to! So now you want to go back? What if you get caught up in the past, cant function? These guys will kill you."

She shook her head, still amused, and deliberately stepped on a trailing edge of the sheet to dislodge it. "Peter, sweetie, I hated high school because I was a teenager and that's what we do. I hated having a dress code, a make up code and geometry with a former Navy Sargent. I'm not traumatized by my past, love. I know you worry, and I know that yours has crept up on you at work, but my life as a kid was so white bread and apple pie, my last name should be Cleaver. I'm not in the least bit worried about traumatic flashbacks impairing my judgement." Her jawline hardened and her eyes went cold, thinking of those snapshots. "And if there's anyone in danger of dying, it isnt me."

Fresh morning air poured in the moonroof of Jordan's ice green Saab. Erye Academy allowed local students to attend as "day boarders" and these students were allowed to bring their own cars to school. Cruising the student parking lot the day before, Jordan had realized that her Saab would actually be one of the plainer cars in there, with all the VW Cabriolet and Miata convertables. One worry gone. She had actually driven her father's old MG all through school, her little brother had it now and it gave him as much grief as it had given her.

She realized what she was thinking about and shook her head. "Focus, girl, focus!" Now was not the time to relive her own high school days. Maia was already in place as a sub, coming in this morning for a Mrs. Cooper who had sprained her ankle during a cutthroat tennis match. The Dean of Students, Ms. Kowalsky, would be the only staff member aware of the undercover operation in her school, and she would not contact Jordan during school hours unless there was an emergency. The Vice detective pulled into an empty spot, ran a comb through her hair and applied fresh pink lipstick. Her engines were revved and it was "showtime!" she whispered to the teenager in the rearview mirror.

An endless wait in the office for a locker and a late pass ended in third period, American Lit. As Jordan knocked and handed the teacher her pass, she could feel the appraising eyes in the sea of cashmere and angora that awaited her. A crazy remembrance of the mugger she had caught flashed through her mind, his assessing looks at her. These girls were money and class concious (sp.) taken to several extremes. And some of them were posing for nude pictures, willingly. First order of business, make friends. And she smiled timidly at the blur of faces.

As it turned out, Jordan "MacIntyre" made several new friends rather quickly. All it took was lighting up a Capri menthol in the first floor bathroom after fifth period. She, sadly, was deluged with requests for a "bum" or a "drag" by the girls who boarded at Erye and didnt have town privileges. Jordan had counted on this, of course, but found herself surprised at how quickly her rebellious teenage smoking habit came back to her. In fact, all of the tricks that had plagued the nuns at St Agnes High had returned with alarming ease. Skirts a shade too short, sweaters a touch too snug, heels a fraction of an inch too high, jewelry just a tad flashy, and she snapped her gum behind any turned back like a pro.

The other girls, for the most part sheltered, spoiled but generally "nice" girls found her exotic. The resident bad girls avoided her, because she never pushed the envelope as far as they did. No late night pot parties, and no gulps from a hidden flask of smuggled booze between classes. Jordan KNEW, instinctively, that the girls she wanted were from the softer, mainstream group. They were used to obeying parents and teachers, unsure of themselves and open to flattery.

Two weeks into her cover, Jordan got her first break. Taylor Maxwell had been called out of class by a student delivered teacher's note. She missed her next three classes, arriving late into seventh with red rimmed eyes and a pink nose. It COULD have been a call from home, or a severe lecture from an irate teacher. Jordy's suspicious eye checked the girl for details and found a few alarming points: a misbuttoned blouse, a different hairstyle, and then...Jordan caught her breath and stared. Bandbox neat Taylor's pleated gray skirt showed precise machine stitching. It was on inside out. Jordan scribbled a few thoughts to herself in her X-Files notebook, trying to reconcile the sudden knowledge that there had to be a teacher in on this horrible set up. A teacher!! She could feel the anger building inside and welcomed it. She had to talk to Maia and Taylor, in that order.

They met at Maia's apt to prevent anyone from the school seeing them talking. Jordan had gone home to change and leave a note for Peter, who she hardly saw anymore. She was now comfortable in sweats and an old too big Red Sox baseball shirt, sitting crosslegged among the big floor cushions in her partner's apt, eating chicken fried rice from the white carton it came in. Maia, also in sweats and her old police academy gym shirt, sprawled in the bean bag that had been her first bed in this place, having consumed entirely too much Szechuan beef. She guzzled ice water, but it wasnt helping.

"I have not seen anything that would clue me in on the teacher involved, J. Are you certain the note that called her came from a teacher?" One slim hand brushed long blueblack hair, freed from it's school chignon, out of her face.

"Had to, the only people who can get a student out of class is a teacher or the dean. Even parents have to register at the office, and wait there, for security reasons."

Maia thought a moment, her large dark eyes soft and bright. "Does Taylor have town privileges?"

"I dunno, let me check." Jordan leaned over for the bright green knapsack, a gift from Kermit, which had temporarily replaced her briefcase. A pale gray pin on the back read, "I'm not a mercenary, killing's more of a hobby with me." and made Jordan giggle everytime she saw it. He was a pretty good guy, that Kermit. She unzipped it and pulled out her three ring binders full of current student info. She handed one to Maia, and kept one for herself. "Last name is Maxwell, babe, go nuts."

The delicate featured dark haired detective whistled first. "Well, now, will you look at that?" She held the book out to Jordan, who gasped and stared at her.

"Partner, the pasture just got another few inches deeper in cowflop. I cant believe this...."

The two women stared at the offending file of information. To double check the pattern Maia had spotted, Jordan put a dot of green ink beside every girl they had indentified from the pictures recovered. Then she went back and put a red dot beside every girl in the file on academic probation. She swore softly and viciously, barely hearing Maia echoing her in excellent, filthy French. Every green dot had a red dot too. "The girls on academic probation, they all report to the dean or her assistant, Mr. Talbot." Maia said slowly.

"Mr. Talbot takes all the official yearbook pictures..and he runs the photography club after classes." Jordan returned, thinking out loud. "In fact, he's always got a camera in his hand. Those picture looked awfully professional to me. The studio has to be somewhere on the school grounds, dont you think? If he took Taylor there during school hours, and she only missed three classes..."

"So who keeps him busy and who searches his desk tommorow?" Maia asked, with a hard, angry grin that boded no good for their prey.

Jordan raised her glass of iced tea and clinked glasses with her friend. "Wonder twin powers, activate!"

She felt the weight of her familiar Nikon heavy in her knapsack the next day. The case alone was hefty and she mentally thanked Kermit again for providing her with such a sturdy substitute for her large purse/briefcase combination. If only Peter had..but the surprising, and useful, gift from Peter's friend had touched her. Maybe Kermit wasnt as antisocial as rumor made him out to be. The double sewn cushioned straps held everything without cutting into her shoulders. Now, she had to trap Talbot in the newspaper room with the lenses she had, painfully, taken apart and put together wrong. Maia would slip in and check his homeroom desk for some hint of where the secret photo studio was, or some other evidence. If he was stupid enough to abuse these girls on school property, he could keep the incriminating stuff right there in the desk.

Maia tapped lightly at the classroom door and opened it when no one answered. She slipped inside the room, warm with the late afternoon sunshine, and went straight to the desk. It was neat, almost pristine, pens and pencils in a "World's Greatest Teacher" Snoopy mug. She shook her head and, opening the top drawer, got to work.

Twenty minutes later, she closed the last drawer and heard footsteps coming down the hall. Grabbing a box of coloured chalk, she met David Talbot at the door with a dazzling smile. "Msr. Talbot!" she purred, "You were not here when I came looking for you."

The man gulped, looking down into her smiling dark eyes, and ran a hand over his thinning blond hair. "You were..um..looking for me? Miss..Madame..Ms. Rochelle?"

"Yes.. in the teacher's room, you were so nice, offered to help me if I needed anything. and I did, I needed some coloured chalk for my board tommorow. We are discussing meals and foods, and I wish to make a big picture display."

He looked dazed and she managed not to laugh as he repeated, "Chalk?"

"Yes, my dear Msr. Talbot, but as you see, I have taken you at your word, and helped myself to your supply, as I was not certain where to get my own. And now, I am going to steal away with it back to my homeroom. You will forgive me this shameless theft, yes?" She laughed up at him and he laughed too, a little uncertainly.

"Um..yes, of course, Ms. Rochelle, help yourself, always glad to help."

"Thank you, thank you! Good bye, now." and she was off down the hall in a swish of yellow silk and Chanel No.5.

Jordan's Saab was next to her Jetta in the teacher's parking lot. "Young lady, you can get detention for parking here." she called to her partner, who, concealed from other eyes, shot her the bird.

They headed out and took seperate but equal shortcuts back to Jordan's apt. Peter was still at work and they had the place to themselves. "Well?" Jordan asked expectantly, kicking off her shoes and grabbing two Liptons with Lemon out of the fridge.

Maia caught hers on the fly and sank onto the couch. "Nada, J. Nothing, the desk was clean."

"Nothing at all?"

"Homework papers, and some files on students he's tutoring, some of whom are on academic probation. But none of our girls." she shook her head wearily. "What about you, you were alone with him while he worked on your camera, right? Anything?"

Jordan took a long pull at her tea and grimaced. "He took the lenses apart, cleaned them, showed me the right way to use them ,explained a couple of neat little photo tricks the manual doesnt tell you about, and put them back together for me. The guy's a good camera tech, but I dont think he's the one. He never tried to lay a hand on me."

"Who is it then? Damn!" Maia set her bottle down with more force than strictly necessary. "What are we missing, J?"

"Information" the blonde detective said grimly. "I'm going to have to talk to Taylor Maxwell."

She had stopped talking about the case with Peter, because he either displayed a complete lack of interest or gave her grief about it being dangerous. He had come home just as her partner was leaving and they had exchanged courteous, if not cordial greetings as they passed in the hall.

Jordan could see Peter was excited about something, his eyes were bright and shining, and he couldnt keep the prizewinning grin that she loved off his face. Catching some of his energy, she bounced into his arms and shrieked with surprise as he swung her off her feet in a high flying circle.

"Peter, what is it?" she laughed down into his face, kissing him on the forehead, then on the tip of his nose.

He abruptly flipped her into a deep dip and, leaning over her, whispered "My desert flower, come with me to the Casbah."

She wrinkled her nose at him, a sign of trouble he had never learned to interpret, and said, without a trace of humour, "Since when do you like the Clash?"

He stared down at her, and Jordan saw the blush rise to stain his cheeks as he said, "No, I mean like the desert, and that movie you like, with the Arab guy.."

She dissolved into giggles and he was instantly relieved, knowing he'd been had. "I know, lover, The Sheik, I just watched it again last week, and you are sexier than Valentino ever was." Still prone, she caressed the nape of his neck, her hand cool under the dark silky waves.

He shuddered and pulled her up so that he could kiss her again, sparks catching quickly between them. It had been a few days since they had had the time or the inclination for a long evening together, and they were both hungry. Peter stripped off his jacket and felt delicate cool hands pulling his t- shirt up while his roamed freely over and under the soft knit sweater Jordan still wore. "We are going to have such a great time in the islands, baby. You and me with a private beach, that little white swimsuit you dont dare wear in the pool here," he bent to nuzzle her throat, "or maybe you dont want to get it wet, right?"

"Sun, sand, surf and you, lover. Sounds like Paradise to me." Jordan nipped at his ear and sighed softly, feeling him shiver in her arms as she did. "I hope we wrap this case soon so you and I can take that vacation."

Peter shook his head, too delighted to wait. "That's the best part, Jordy, we dont have to wait. Since you and Maia havent gotten any results, the commissioner agreed that we could pull you guys and send in an team that is expert at working undercover in high schools. They're used to the turf, no blamed attached to you two, " his voice dropped and hazel eyes burned golden in the center.," and you and I are free to go away and take care of each other. I know you've been upset with me, baby, but I understand, and I promise, I will devote every minute of our trip to you and you alone."

He grinned happily, bending to kiss her again, but she was stiff in his arms and turned her face away. Her eyes were blazing and she pushed at him angrily. "You did WHAT????"

"Huh? Jordan, it's time for us!"

"Are you telling me you interfered with our case? Again?" She stared at him, daring him to lie to her.

But Peter was still confused from his great plans and their interupted lovemaking. "No, I mean I planned the vacation and all, but Simms.."

"She told you that the commissioner was yanking us off this case without the courtesy of a phone call?"

"Well, no, but I heard that you guys hadnt been getting results and there's this great pair that just made a big bust at Central..."

"So you, on the strength of a rumour, planned a vacation and assumed that Maia and I would be glad to give up our undercover assignment?" She shook her head and walked away from him, standing in the ruddy last rays of sunlight streaming in. "Peter...have you been listening to me at all? Ever?"

"Of course I listen to you, that's why I wanted us to get away together, so I could spend more time with you. Pay more attention to you."

"I need your attention, lover. I need you to be interested in my life, the way I'm interested in yours. But I need that here, in town, in our everyday lives, and you dont seem very interested in giving it to me." Her voice was sad, not angry, and quiet. When she turned, she had tears in her eyes.

"Jordan, sweetheart, I promise.." Peter moved to hold her, and she clung to him for a moment, then backed away, her hand gentle on his cheek, staring up at his face as if to memorize it.

"No more promises, Pete. I have to go salvage my career, now. I'll be staying with Maia and Shelby tonight, probably go to a hotel or something tommorow. Maybe, when this case is over, after you've had a chance to think about what you really want in a girlfriend, we can talk."

"Jordy" his voice broke and tears spilled down her cheeks as she turned away from his lost child's hurt, from his abandoned boy's pain.

"I can't, Peter. Please, just let me go, I cant. Not anymore." Jordan disappeared into the bedroom, emerged with her gym bag packed to find the room empty. Peter was gone.

"Yes, the written version of this will be on your desk in the morning, Captain, thank you. We'll see you then, before school. Goodnight." Maia hung up the phone and turned to her partner, settled in on the couch with Shelby lending a comforting arm. She joined them, pulling the old beanbag chair over to sit knee to knee.

"What did she say?" Jordan snuffled from her umpteenth crumpled tissue. Shelby silently held up a small, half filled wicker wastepaper basket and gave her a fresh Kleenex to replace the one tossed.

Maia squeezed Jordan's hand and rested against Shelby's knee. "We've still got a career, J. Simms was heard, overheard, speaking to an old friend of her's who is still a vice cop at the 78th. She was discussing the case, thinking out loud, and the rumour mill sprang into effect. Peter must have assumed she had spoken to the commisioner, he'd be the only person to assign cops from another precinct to us. And he isnt, she hasnt even spoken to him."

"Maia, you didnt tell her what Peter did." Jordan was appalled.

The dark haired detective rolled her eyes disgustedly. "I protected Mr. Romantic as much as I could, but I had to tell her some of it. I;m not losing this case when we're finally getting somewhere just because your hotshot boyfriend is insecure." This brought a new bout of tears and she softened, seeing her friend in pain. "He's not so bad, Jordan. You know me, I'm just tired of seeing him treat you like a girlfriend instead of a cop. I'm sure he does care about you."

"That's the worst part about it, Maia, he does care. He's just not willing to accept that I'm as much of a cop as he is, and that it's as big a part of my life as it is with him. And I cant stay with him if he cant accept that, I wont give up my dreams for his, no matter how much I love him." She hid her face as the tears took over again, and Shelby pulled her into a comforting embrace.

Maia looked at her friend and her lover, and thanked God for sending her a woman like Shel, who wasnt afraid to let her be who she needed to be. While she was at it, she sent up a quick prayer for her partner, and, a little grudgingly, for her partner's boyfriend. Wherever he was, Peter Caine needed some help and he needed to find it fast.

Peter Caine was finding it in the bottom of a bottle of Budweiser. The waitress, with a glance at her bartender/boss, had cleared the empties and brought Peter his fifth when a solitary figure in black joined him. Smiling at the newcomer, she signalled for a bottle of Rolling Rock, sans glass, and brought it over to Kermit, who flipped her a fiver and a grin. "Go away, Kermit" Peter growled at his friend, staring morosely into the dregs of his beer.

"No can do, Pete. What's the matter, have a fight with the missus?" This with a hearty backclap that earned him a glare all his own.

"Lay off, all right? You ever hear of privacy?"

"Think so, something they had before computers were invented, back in the Dark Ages. Anyway, I doubt if another Bud is the answer, my friend. How's about a ride in the Kermitmobile?"

"How's about you take a hike, 'friend'?" But Kermit was already on his feet, tossing a couple of twenties down for Donna, who had given him a call when Peter came in and started boozing without his usually cheer.

"Up we go then," he slipped an arm around Peter's back and hauled, and Peter exploded.

"Dammit, I said No!" and swung at him. The ex-merc ducked, then regretfully cracked his friend on the jaw, catching him neatly as he slumped, unconcious.

"Like I was saying, Pete, there are better places to find answers." and, shaking his shaggy head, he half carried Peter out into the cool night air.

Jordan forced Peter to the back of her mind as she pulled into the school parking lot. It had been a relief to talk with Captain Simms earlier that morning, she was refreshingly all business , had sat down and skimmed their written report first thing.. They were still on the case.. but how were they going to bust Talbot? And, what if it wasnt him? It felt good to worry about work, she needed this puzzle to concentrate on. And if her eyes and nose were faintly pink when she talked to Taylor Maxwell, all the better. "I ask you, Trixie, where is Diana when I really need her?" she said to her reflection, as she fluffed her pale curls and spritzed on the Love's Baby Soft. The rhetorical question made her laugh, and she made a face at herself. "Teaching French grammer to seniors, that's where she is, and she's welcome to it!" The weak joke gave her the energy to get out of the car and start her day.

But it wasnt Trixie Belden, Teen Sleuth, who stopped Taylor from going to study hall. Senses on red alert, Jordan pulled her into the first floor lav and offered her a cig before lighting one for herself. She leaned in close to the mirror to apply eyeliner, and said, casually, "Taylor, I need some advice, ok? I've been slipping grade wise and when report cards come out next week, I'm sunk."

"You've only been here three weeks, Jordy, you'd think they'd cut you some slack."

Jordan pretended indignation. "Yeah, wouldnt you think? But I slacked off a lot at my last school, and the dean made me promise to bring them up when I got accepted here. I will, but, you know, I've been busy.."

Taylor seemed pale in the greenish florescent lighting. "The dean? Mrs. Kowalsky is really strict about grades. It makes the school look bad if Ivy League legacies flunk out."

"So, what'll they do to me? Detention, make up tests, what?"

"Do to you?" Taylor repeated, faint and far away, then snapped to attention as the door creaked. With practiced skill, they flipped their butts into the nearest commode and flushed, when the dean made her appearance, they were both brushing out their hair.

Kowalsky sniffed, but said nothing, smiled her 'friendly but you're not putting anything over on me' smile and said, "Miss Maxwell, shouldnt you be in class?"

"I have a free class before lunch, Mrs. Kowalsky, but I have some studying to do, I need to spend this period in the library, really."

"That's good planning, dear, dont let up on improving those grades. Now, dont forget our appointment after school today, will you?"

"No, ma'am" Taylor murmered and was gone.

"As for you, Detective MacGuire, I hardly think providing a sixteen year old with cigarettes and causing her to miss class is part of your investigation."

Jordan gave her a calm, cool look, one she had perfected for use with obnoxious higher rankers. "I completely agree, Dean Kowalsky, but it IS part of my cover, and she didnt have class."

"Study then!" the older woman snapped. "Study is just as important as attending classes at a top notch school, and we are such a school, Detective."

"Except for all the kiddie porn, of course" Jordan drawled and watched as the dean's face crumpled. It took the triumph out of it.

"Of course, forgive me. I want these people caught, even if we do have to disrupt the usual order of things. Please, excuse me."

"I'm sorry.." but Katherine Kowalsky was gone. Jordan looked after her a long time, thinking, about perfect girls and perfect schools and hidden flaws.

Peter woke in a familiar place, but not his own. At first, he had no memory just knew the light was too bright, and there was a dull ache in his jaw. There was a sore spot in his mind, like a loose tooth, that he couldnt help probing as he opened his eyes and sat up. Then, in a flood it began to return, vacationJordygonedrinking Kermithitting, and he was halfway across the room, fist cocked. "You son of a bitch!"

His intended target, unsmiling under green shades, never flinched, as a familiar voice stopped him, even as familiar strong arms caught him. "Peter! Do not!"

Peter twisted in the careful embrace of his father until he was looking at the older man's concerned, kindly face. And it was all suddenly too much to handle alone, even for Peter Caine. "She's gone, Pop. I tried to make it up to her, I really did, and she's gone." His voice cracked and he slumped into a chair, burying his face in his folded arms. Caine knelt beside him, holding his son for comfort, now.

Kermit began examining the unlabelled jars of herbs on the apothacary shelves, giving his friend the privacy he needed. "I know what it means, Pete." he thought to himself, "I'm just selective in when I think it's needed." and he grinned, just slightly, at his reflection. "And yes, I am an arrogant sonovabitch."

Part 1   Part 2

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