Blair Sandburg came to a dead stop outside the elevator doors. Something was different here. Not wrong, maybe. But different.

There was Jim, sitting at his desk. There were Henri and Rafe, chatting about something as they got ready to go out into the field for the day. Joel and Rhonda were talking, Simon was perched outside his door listening in. Everything seemed normal. No crises, no tension. His eyes went back to Jim, and caught on a strange sight.

Whoa, Nellie.

Sandburg's eyes widened, and he made a beeline for his partner. "Jim, what's wrong?"

Ellison looked up in confusion. "Hey, Chief. Thought you weren't coming until after lunch. Nothing's wrong."

"My class was cancelled. Are...are you sure nothing's wrong?"

"What's your problem? Nothing's wrong." Jim frowned up at his partner.

"Well...what is this?" Blair gestured to the box on Jim's desk, the one that had caught his eye in the doorway.

"Whaddaya mean, what is this? It's breakfast."

"Jim," Blair sat on the edge of the desk, very serious. "Ever since I first met you, you've had the same things for breakfast. If we're at home, you make eggs and bacon. If we come here, you have those killer donuts. So what," he gestured down to the half-eaten bagel in the small bakery box. "Is that?"

Jim studied him for a moment, then burst into laughter. "You're too much, Sandburg. Gotta make a crisis out of everything. There's nothing wrong with me, alright? This doesn't mark some change in my patterns, it has nothing to do with my senses. The donut place was packed, so I went to the bakery down the street instead."

"Oh." Blair eyed him for another moment, then nodded, apparently satisfied, and sat down in the seat next to Jim's desk. "Alright, so what's on the boards for today?"

Jim shook his head with a grin, and looked down at the files he'd been rifling through. "If I'd have known you would be here, I could have mapped it out better. All we really have to do is finish this paperwork and get out to the diner on 4th that was almost blown up yesterday."

"Huh." Blair's stomach growled. He dug into the box and pulled out a bagel. "Why'd Simon give you that one?"

"Cause Rafe and Brown got a double murder this morning. Joel's handling the exposives aspect, we're just going to question the owners and see why this might have happened."

"Good." Blair polished off the bagel quickly and grinned at his partner. "Just as long as you don't want to stay over there for lunch. I think I like this change in your diet."

Jim shut the box before Blair could pull out another bagel, and pulled it away from his partner's hand. "Don't get used to it, Sandburg. Tomorrow it's donuts again."

Jim Ellison stopped in front of the donut shop, debating. It was crowded again, like it always was at eight in the morning. But it wasn't packed. He'd be in and out in five minutes or so. Same as always. But he pushed the gas -- took the car past the donut joint and down a block to park in front of the small bakery. He got out of the car quickly, looking around to make sure no one was watching as he went in.

The same girl who'd been working yesterday was there, still training that younger guy, still grinning out at everyone cheerfully. "Good morning, Mr. Officer sir." she called as soon as Jim came in.

He smiled slightly. Whatever drug she was on that put her in so good a mood at eight in the morning, he'd have to get his hands on some. "Morning," he answered back.

"More bagels?" She left the trainee where he was and moved down the counter to where he stood.

"Actually," he looked down at the rows of food. "I kind of got in trouble with my partner over my dietary choices yesterday."

"In trouble over bagels? What do you usually eat?" She grinned.

He found himself returning it. Geez, she was in a good mood. It almost rubbed off onto him. "Well, I was wondering if you had something...you know, really unhealthy."

She laughed slightly. "Unhealthy, huh? Sure, we have plenty of fattening, buttery pastries you could choke your arteries on."

"Perfect. Just throw a few of those into a box for me, huh?"

She obeyed, still grinning. "And should I put in a few extra bits of butter, or maybe some pure lard, just for your partner's sake?"

He chuckled. "No, this will be fine." He watched her for a minute, and felt suddenly eager to keep talking. "How did you know I was a police officer?" he asked, genuinely curious. She had greeted him yesterday, his first time in, the same way she'd greeted him today.

She paused, smiling. "You're kidding, right? You're Jim Ellison. You're in the paper more than Beetle Bailey."

He chuckled. "Oh, yeah."

"Well, here you go, officer sir." She handed the box over to him. "You eat a boxful of these every morning, you won't live to see middle age, I promise."

"Good," he handed some money over to her, and she waved a cheery goodbye as he started out the door.

He left the bakery with a smile. So this wasn't his usual breakfast fare- he'd still have to deal with Sandburg's questions. But he'd be damned if he would put up with that patented Sandburg I'm-teaching-you-healthy-living smile one more day.

The girl behind the counter lost her usual broad smile as Jim came trudging in two days later. "Hey, Jim, what's wrong?"

Jim hesitated. He'd been coming here for the last four days now, and she'd always been there. They had chatted a bit- enough for him to invite her to call him Jim, but were hardly friends. "Nothin. Can I get some coffee?"

She went over and poured a cup, threw a croissant on a plate, and came around the counter to hand them to him herself. "Sit down, Jim."

"Wha?"

"Sit down. You're here a little early, you've got a few minutes. And you look like you're ready to fall over anyway. Sit."

Wondering exactly where the line between customer and clerk had faded, he did as she instructed.

She went back to the counter, and helped the other guy working that day with the line that had formed.

Jim watched her as he sipped his coffee. She was always the same- always smiling at everyone, singing along with the radio, cheerfully chatting with the customers about their lives. Jim recognized a few of the people who were there from the last mornings, and realized this place had a lot of regulars. No wonder, as pleasant as the atmosphere was compared to outside. Better than the donut joint, with the two pimple-faced brats stumbling around and glowering like the customers had interrupted something important by being there.

It was nice. It almost made him feel better just sitting there.

A minute later, the place was cleared and she was saying something to her co-worker. And then she was coming around again, making her way to the small table Jim sat at. "Alright, Mr. Officer sir, are you okay?"

Jim blinked. "Yeah. I guess. Just tired."

She studied him, and the concern on her face made him smile somewhat. "You sure? Your face wasn't in the paper this morning, so I can't pretend to be psychic and guess what's wrong."

He chuckled. "No. There's a case that's bothering me. Nothing serious." He almost found himself wanting to tell her about it. Wanting to tell the bakery counter girl about his problems. Geez.

But then he didn't want to. This place was becoming a nice little oasis for him- a place where people smiled. Small, but meaningful.

She seemed to read his mind, bringing out her bright smile again. "I suppose it's none of my business. I'll fetch your usual assortment, shall I?" She whisked away without waiting for his response.

Jim chuckled again. Well, she'd done it. She'd made him feel better. Somehow. It was weird, that's all. Just strange. Well, maybe not so strange. He was really starting to like this place- not a single cop-donut joke since he'd first come in, everyone so friendly. And they made a good cup of coffee. And how often was it that a woman smiled at him every time she saw him, unconditionally?

He grinned into his coffee and dug out some cash as she came floating over with his box.

Sandburg returned home that night from a hard day at the U- sometimes it just seemed that every teacher and student he had to work with conspired right before he got there to make his day as long and as tedious as possible. He just wanted to relax- have some dinner, watch a bit of tv, maybe take a long, calming bath. Tomorrow morning he didn't have anything to do- he would go to the station with Jim, but it promised to be an easy day.

He was still down the hall from his door when the smells hit him.

Oh, God. Jim was cooking. And it smelled fabulous.

Suddenly starving on top of tired and annoyed, Blair made a beeline for the door. "I'm home!" He called as he went in, tossing his keys in the basket.

"Hi, Chief! Dinner's almost ready. Sit down, have a beer. I know you're tired."

Blair paused. Wow. Jim sounded...cheery. "Good day at the station?" he asked slowly as he made his way to the kitchen.

Jim looked up from the pots on the stove and grinned. "Yeah. We're no closer to finding our mad bomber, but everything else's going well. I'll tell ya, though, sometimes it's just nice to forget about work. Let's talk about something else."

Blair shrugged his backpack onto the table, looking around at the meal Jim was concocting. Well. Not his usual fare, by any means. Steamed veggies, pasta, a steaming pot of -something- on the oven, even...

"Whoa. This is too much," Blair picked up the basket on the table. "You baked BREAD?"

Jim chuckled at his expression. "No, I picked it up at the bakery on my way home. They have some good stuff over there, Chief."

The bakery. Four days in a row now. Blair opted not to say anything. "So what're you making?"

"Hungarian goulash." Jim replied chirpily.

"Hu..wha?"

He laughed at Blair's stupified expression. "I was in the mood for something different, you know? And the girl at the bakery had a few ideas. She gave me this recipe. What're you gawking at? It smells alright, doesn't it?"

Blair simply nodded.

"Alright, why don't you go chill in the living room until it's ready? If I've made you speechless over something small like this, you must be more tired than I thought."

Blair obeyed, picking up his pack and going into the living room with one look back at Jim standing over the oven, stirring merrily.

"C'mon, Chief, we gotta go!"

Blair paused in his tooth brushing and stuck his tongue out at the door in silent morning grumpiness. Jim was on fire this morning, waking him up a half hour earlier than usual, pushing for him to get ready. He rinsed his mouth and hurried out the door. "What's the rush, Jim? Geez."

"We gotta stop and pick up some breakfast for the guys."

Blair paused. Breakfast? That bakery again. Hmmm. "Oh? They're starting to like those cholesterol-ridden croissants, huh?"

"Almost as much as they like the killer fried donuts," Jim agreed readily.

And what about you, big guy? What do you like? Blair was tempted to voice his thoughts, but he didn't. Hurried or not, Jim was in a good mood. And he wouldn't risk blowing that. It happened far too rarely when Jim had an unsolved case he had to go to work on for the second week. A small convenience store was targetted this time, and the place had gone up the day before. Fortunately it had been closed and no one was hurt, but it was stressing Jim out. So he'd let him have his good mood. "Alright, I'm ready."

Jim came out of his bedroom and jogged down the stairs. "Good, come on." He headed right for the door.

Blair followed, and was suddenly caught in the passing mist of... "Jim, are you wearing cologne?"

His roommate paused, glancing back at him sheepishly. "A little. Why?"

"Uh. No reason. Doesn't bother your senses?"

"No, it's that organic body mist you got me, remember?"

Blair grinned. Jim wasn't making himself smell nice for the pastries, that was for sure.

When they pulled up to the little bakery, Blair got out first, keeping his eyes on his roommate, wanting to catch his reactions.

Jim strode in happily, Blair on his heels.

"Hiya, officer sir." A cheery voice called.

Blair, right behind his partner, saw an instant reaction. Jim seemed to relax right before his eyes, his shoulders loosing their characteristic stiffness, and his face easing into a lopsided smile. "Morning."

"And bringing company, no less." Blair saw the hundred- watt smile of the girl catching his eye and he returned it full-force. Aha. This was it. This was what Jim was acting so bizarre over.

"You guys go sit down, I'll bring you the usual."

Usual? Blair followed Jim as he went right for a small table by a picture window, looking out onto the street. "This is a nice place," Blair stated conversationally as they sat.

Jim still had the crooked grin. "Yeah, it is. Kinda relaxing, you know?"

"Alright, Jim, give."

"Whaddaya mean?"

"I mean, this. You've been coming here for over a week. You're buying more bread than we know what to do with, and you get this silly smile on your face for no reason at all. What's up?"

"Nothing," Jim gazed out the window. "I'm just a little happier than usual lately. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," Blair threw back quickly. "I was just wondering if there was maybe...oh, a specific reason."

"Like what?" Jim looked back at him in challenge.

"Here you go, boys."

"Speak of the devil," Blair caught Jim's eye for a moment, and was rewarded by a slight flush appearing on the older man's cheeks.

The girl stood with plates and cups balanced precariously. "Jim. Your usual. And I'm assuming you're the partner," she said, turning to Blair. "And since bagels are the healthiest thing we have, I took the liberty." She set the plate down, followed by a styrofoam cup with water and a tea bag.

"Hey, thanks," Blair grinned up at her in surprise.

She shrugged. "Enjoy your breakfast." She whisked back to the counter to deal with the other customers.

Blair saw his roommate's eyes following the girl before turning to his food. He grinned. "She's cute."

Jim almost flushed again. "Who?"

Blair laughed out loud. "Don't try the innocent act, it doesn't flatter you. You're about as transparent as air, man."

"Yeah yeah. Eat your breakfast, Sandburg." But his eyes went almost unconsciously back to the girl.

Blair stayed silent, but laughed internally. When was the last time he'd actually seen Jim go ga-ga over a girl? It was nice. Strange, but nice. "She IS cute, though."

Jim's eyes flashed over to him. "You'd better just be talking, Sandburg."

"Okay, so you're not interested in her at all, you don't even know what I'm talking about. Yet you're now getting possessive when I start looking. You're gone, Jim."

Jim didn't deny it. He stuffed some pastry in his mouth and used that as an excuse not to respond.

"Hey, Jim?" the girl called from the near side of the counter.

He looked up. "Yeah?"

"Whatever cologne you're wearing, you should wear more often. It's nice."

Jim beamed down at his coffee, deciding it would be diplomatic to ignore the snickering coming from across the table.

"Jim? You there? Pick up the phone, it's important. Jim? Blair?"

"Hey, Simon. Sorry, I was upstairs. What's up?"

Blair wandered blearily over as Jim talked. They were supposed to be at the station in an hour anyway, what was Simon calling for now?

He saw the sudden stiffness appearing and frowned. Bomber struck again. Had to be.

"We'll go right over. Where is it?"

There was a pause, and suddenly Jim's stiffness increased to the point of rigidity. "Are you serious? Yeah, I'm on my way." He dropped the phone and raced back up the stairs to throw on his shirt and shoes. "Chief, you be ready in one minute or I'm leaving without you."

"What's going on?" Blair called as he ran into his own room.

"Another bomb." Jim yelled down.

"Where this time?"

"Bakery on Main." Jim's voice sounded stressed. "And there are casualties this time."

"Alright, everybody back off!" The uniform was having a hard time keeping the morning crowds away from the building.

Jim barrelled through the crowd, flashing his badge. "What's the situation?"

"Bomb squad just left. The fire's out completely, ambulance is almost done." The man said tersely, his eyes never leaving the crowd.

Jim saw the shattered glass, the blackened inside, the overturned table he would have been sitting at ten minutes from now. "How many dead?"

"Two. Both employees. They weren't open yet, but a couple of passers-by got cut on some glass, too."

Jim brushed past him and entered the charred bakery. "Aw, shit." he breathed out. The counter was gone, the shards of glass and bent metal sprayed all over the blackened room. Two paramedics were lifting a covered stratcher as he came in.

Jim let them go by, resisting the urge to stop them and lift up that sheet. If she had been... No, he had to find out. He went over to one officer who was crouched where the body was found. "Who are our bodies?"

"One male, one female. Both employees. Um..." he pulled out a small notebook and squinted at it. "Rod Green and Bethany Mannon."

Jim blinked. Bethany Mannon? Oh, God, he had never known her name. "Thanks," he said quietly, heading for the door. He needed some air before he started investigating this.

He saw Sandburg being held back by the officer at the door, and he strode over. "He's with me," he said in a growl, grabbing Blair's arm and pulling him past the man.

Blair saw the tension in his face, and winced. "Was that girl here?"

Jim shrugged. "I don't know. Some girl was. She's been here every other morning,"

"You mean you don't know?" Blair flinched under the presure Jim was applying to his arm, but didn't say anything.

"No, I don't know."

Blair pulled himself away with difficulty. "Hey, Jim, calm down. Maybe she wasn't here. We just have to ask...." His eyes went over to the crowd, wondering if there was someone around who would know- the owner or another employee. His eyes caught on a flash of red hair near the police officer.

"Ask what? I don't know what the hell her name was, I don't know anything about her. I don't even know what color her hair is." She'd always been wearing that asinine little chef's hat all the employees wore. Aw, shit.

"Red." Blair replied with a grin.

"What?" Jim stopped and looked down at his smiling partner, not appreciating the humor.

"Kind if ironic, isn't it?" Blair's eyes were still on the crowd.

Jim turned and followed his gaze. What was-

Oh. Hey. He didn't recognize her for a moment. She did have red hair. And was dressed in jeans and a sweater. And wasn't flashing her thousand-watt smile. But there she was.

"-they customers? We do have regulars. I mean, are you sure they were employees? Just let me in, let me talk to the manager."

"No way, girly. No one gets in here. This is a crime scene."

Jim beamed as he strode over to the officer once again. "She's with me." he said gruffly.

The man opened his mouth, but saw the glint in Jim's eye and wisely shut it again.

She turned to him, and her smile reappeared, full force. "Well, Mr. Officer, sir. I'm glad to see you."

"Me, too," Jim replied with a relieved grin. "Hey, can I ask you a question?"

"As long as it's not 'where were you when the crime was committed,'" she answered readily.

"Nothing like that. What's your name?"

She grinned. "Summer Vance. Horrible, isn't it?"

He felt the relaxation coming over him as she flashed her brilliant smile. "Oh, I don't know. It sort of fits."

Blair stayed back, watching the two with a smile. Well, the bakery was demolished. Jim would have to go back to eating his donuts.

He saw Jim reach out as they talked quietly and almost timidly touch her arm, and saw her smile glowing.

Hmm. I hope she gets a new job at a health food store or something, Blair reflected. It would be nice to see Jim patronizing somewhere nice. 

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