Author's note: This takes place immediately after Ups and Downs.   

All In A Month's Work 

by Jackie 

pixie7@gte.net	

 Lynda looked up from the file she was reading and sighed. 

 "Something on your mind?" Welsh asked. 

 Lynda adjusted her glasses before closing the file. "Do you really think
I can do this, sir?" 

 "Lynda, I don't think, I know. You're one of the best Civilian Aids I've
seen in a long time." 

 "I mean, sir, I am going to be the youngest person at this meeting by a
considerable margin. Will I be treated the same?" 

 "I'll make sure of it." He turned his attention back to driving. 

 Lynda watched him for a few seconds, as the headlights from other cars
whizzed by on the highway, then replaced the file in the back seat with
the others. She had gone through all of them, all ten of them, in one
hour. At this point, she was so sick of reading files. So, she decided to
ask Welsh more about the case they were undertaking. 

 "Will I like him?" 

 "Depends. You like cynical, in-your-face, wise-cracking cops?" 

 "Hey, I get along great with Dad," Lynda smiled. 

 Welsh chuckled for the first time in front of her. "I think you'll like
him." He glanced at the clock radio. Almost eight. Another twenty minutes,
and they'll be at the rendevous point. 

 The rest of the trip was spent in silence. Welsh was concentrating on his
driving, while Lynda concentrated on other things. Namely her father and
Fraser. Right now, they were the two most important people in her life. It
had been two months since her mom was killed, and those two had been there
for her ever since. She shared a special kinship with them, along with
Dief. She hadn't known them for too long, but felt comfortable talking to
them about anything. 

 And then there was Stafford. The only person who captured her heart.
Lynda felt a deep sense of . . . something, a thing that she had never
felt before. This was the guy who stepped in front of her yesterday and
took a bullet that would have killed her. I hope he's alright, she
thought. 

 She was so lost in her thoughts that the next thing she knew, Welsh had
pulled his car in front of a large apartment complex. After parking, the
two quickly and quietly got their luggage and hurried over to Room 3J.
Welsh knocked lightly on the door. It opened and they were let in. 

 Lynda looked around as the door shut behind her. Fairly large, with two
queen size beds, a night stand between them, a table near the only window,
a couple of dressers, a TV mounted on the wall, and a doorway, which
probably led to the bathroom. She also noticed the small group of men
dressed in three-piece black suits sporadically around the room. Reminded
her of the Men In Black. 

 "Lieutenant Welsh?" one of the men asked. Welsh nodded. "Agent Michael
Jasper." He shook Welsh's hand, then noticed Lynda. "Lynda Peterson?" 

 "Yeah." 

 "Glad you could make it. Allow me to introduce my associates. Agent
Thadius Hobbes, Agent Harry Thyme, and Agent Bill Grimes of the ATF.
Myself and Agent Kyle Allen are from the FBI. Are there any questions?" 

 "Where is my Detective?" 

 "Right here, Lieu," a new voice answered. 

 Everyone looked toward the bathroom to see Detective Ray Vecchio emerge.
He was wiping his face with a towel, not to mention he was grinning. 

 "Vecchio." Welsh smiled, shaking the Detective's hand firmly. 

 "Good to see you, sir." 

 Lynda was able to get a good look at the Detective she had heard so much
about, yet never seen. He was about six feet in height, dark hair in a
crewcut style, and greenish eyes. He was wearing a pair of black jeans,
and a black turtleneck. 

 Ray finally noticed Lynda. "Who's that?" 

 "Ray, I'd like you to meet Civilian Aid Lynda Peterson. She's going to be
doing all the computer work for the case." 

 Ray eyed Lynda with suspicion. "A kid?" 

 "I'm not a kid. I happen to be one of the best hackers in the world." 

 "Vecchio, don't start," Welsh replied wearily. He looked tired. "Listen,
it's been a long day. I want to get some rest." 

 "Lieutenant, you and I will be sleeping in the adjoining room," Agent
Jasper spoke up, reading off a piece of paper. "The other agents will be
sharing different rooms." 

 "And what about Ray and myself?" Lynda asked. 

 "You two will be sharing this room." Jasper folded up the piece of paper
and put it in his coat pocket. "Are there any objections?" 

 "None from me," Lynda answered. "From what I know about Vecchio he can be
trusted." 

 Jasper nodded, and everyone left, leaving Ray and Lynda alone. Lynda took
her suitcases and put them on one of the beds. She opened one and started
rummaging through it. 

 "So, you think I can be trusted?" Ray asked as he sat at the foot of his
bed. 

 "Yeah. I've heard a lot about you." 

 "Good I hope?" 

 "Depends on who you're talking about. Welsh, for instance, could go
either way, depending on his mood. On, the other hand, Fraser practically
worships you, so it -" 

 "You know Fraser?" 

 "One of my two best friends right now." 

 "How about Dief?" 

 "Sweet as anything. Great leg warmer during cold nights." 

 "He stays with you?" 

 "Uh huh." 

 "Why doesn't he stay with Fraser? Did they have an argument?" 

 "No. From what I gather, there was a fire that burned down Fraser's old
apartment. They both moved into the Consulate until Fraser could find a
new apartment, but Dief started getting restless in there, so he moved in
with me." 

 "How does the Dragon Lady feel about Fraser sleeping in the Consulate?" 

 "Who?" 

 "Inspector Thatcher." 

 "I thought she was the Ice Queen. Dad calls her the Ice Queen, so I
thought that's what you called her." 

 "You father's a cop?" 

 "Yeah, in fact, he's the one who's filling in for you until you get
back." 

 "Well, from what I heard about him, he didn't have any children." 

 "He didn't know he did, until about two months ago. It's a crazy story to
tell, almost like a soap opera: long-lost daughter is reunited with father
she never knew to ask his help in protecting her and her mother from a
vicious killer. Mother dies at the hands of her ex-husband, daughter and
father mourn, but pick up their lives and move on together." 

 "So, your mom was killed by your step-father?" 

 Lynda nodded. "Yeah." 

 "What's his name? Your father's, I mean." 

 "Stanley Raymond Kowalski." Ray stifled a giggle. "What's so funny?" 

 "His name. What, one of his parents like Tennessee Williams or Marlon
Brando?" Lynda rolled her eyes as she removed her laptop and a pile of
blank disks. "So, how good of a hacker are you?" 

 "Let's just put it this way: I can get the access code for the CIA
Headquarters, break in, upload a virus to destroy any number of defense
secrets, get out in less than a minute, and never get caught." 

 Ray smiled. A girl who would bend the rules to get things done. "Cool.
Elaine must like working with you." 

 "Elaine?" 

 "She's the other Civilian Aid." 

 "No, your sister is." 

 "Frannie?!" 

 "Yeah, she's pretty good at her work, too." 

 "When did she start working at the Station, and when did Elaine leave?" 

 "Obviously, before I came here. I don't know . . . I take it you don't
know about her and Turnbull, then?" 

 "What about them?" 

 "They're going out. That's all I know." 

 "Man, I never thought that she'd get over that infatuation with Benny." 

 "Benny?" 

 "Yeah, that's what I call Fraser." 

 Lynda smiled. "That's a sweet name." She stifled a yawn. "Oh, excuse me."


 "You look pretty tired." 

 "I am tired." She put her computer, disks, and suitcases on the floor
next to her bed. She took her glasses off and put them on the night stand.
She flopped onto her bed and stretched out. "I'm also hungry." 

 "Want room service?" 

 "That allowed?" 

 "Don't care," Ray grabbed the phone from the night stand. "FBI's picking
up the tab. So, what do you want?" 

 Lynda thought for a minute. "Double cheeseburger, no onions, large order
of fries, and a chocolate shake." 

 "Okay." Ray dialed a number and ordered their food. Soon, it was
delivered and they were eating. Lynda hadn't eaten since breakfast, so she
scarfed her food pretty quickly. "Just out of curiosity, Lynda, how do you
stay so thin?" 

 "Exercise. I'm into martial arts, and it keeps me pretty active." 

 "Really?" Ray mumbled around a bite of his burger. "How far are you?" 

 "Working on my third-degree black belt." Ray choked on his bite, and
coughed furiously. "You okay?" 

 Ray caught his breath. "You gotta be joking. You're only . . . how old
are you?" 

 "Nineteen." 

 "You're only nineteen." 

 "Yeah, I started when I was young. I'm pretty good." 

 "So . . . you're a computer nerd and a karate expert. Anything else I
should know about you?" 

 "I know ten languages, including sign language, I can play the piano and
guitar really nicely, drive a '57 Chevy convertible, and sing in a band." 

 "What kind of band?" 

 "Country." 

 "Eww." 

 "What's wrong with country?" Lynda asked defensively. 

 "It's about nothing but dead dogs, pickup trucks, and drinking." 

 "It is not! There are songs about love, getting over heartaches, and
having a good time with friends. And it even works out better if you're
singing about what you've experienced." 

 "You've been in love?" 

 "Currently am." 

 "Who's the guy?" 

 "His name is Stafford Travis." 

 "How did you meet?" 

 "About a week ago, I fell off a piano and hit my head. He brought me some
ice." 

 "That's really romantic," Ray rolled his eyes. "So, you've only been
going out a week?" 

 "Not technically, but I think there's something there." 

 "That's what young lovers always say. Well, I wish you the best of luck
anyway. Just remember: guys at that age only look for one thing in a girl,
and it ain't a great personality. Trust me, I was his age once." 

 Lynda smiled. This what not the Ray she had heard about from everyone
else. She had heard that he was a cynical, in-your-face kind of person,
incapable of any feelings. No, here was a great person who acted that way,
but was also a very caring individual. No wonder Fraser liked him. 

 "Well, I hate to be rude, but I'm pretty tired." Lynda gather up her
trash and threw it away. She rummaged through one of her suitcases and got
some clothes and other stuff out. While Ray finished eating, she went into
the bathroom, changes into a pair of silk, lavender pajamas, brushed her
hair and teeth, and washed her face. By the time she was done, Ray was
watching a Cubs baseball game. She put her stuff and dirty clothes in the
suitcase and crawled underneath her sheets. "Goodnight, Ray." She snuggled
against one of her pillows and fell fast asleep. 

 "'Night." He turned down the volume low and continued watching the game.
At the end of every inning he would glance over and check on her. Every
time, Lynda was sleeping soundly.  

* * * *  

 The next morning, Lynda slowly opened her eyes . . . and found herself
staring into a pair of green ones. She shrieked as she sat up. 

 "Whoa, it's just me," Ray calmly said. 

 "Don't do that again," she frowned as she tried to catch her breath. She
looked up to see Ray sitting on the edge of his bed, wearing striped
pajamas. "Nice pj's." 

 "Nice hair," he retorted. 

 Lynda got up from her bed, went into the bathroom, and looked at her
reflection. Her usually straight and silky hair was a mass of knots and
tangles. Yuck. She yawned and shuffled out of the bathroom. "I'll take a
shower, okay? But first, I want some breakfast." 

 "Anything in particular?" 

 "Two glazed donuts and a cup of coffee. Regular, with cream and sugar." 

 Ray ordered their breakfast, and began eating just as Welsh came in. 

 "Good morning, sir," Lynda smiled. 

 Welsh was not used to seeing Lynda in such a casual setting. For a moment
he was taken surprised, but quickly regained his composure. "Lynda,
Vecchio. How was your first night?" 

 "Slept like a baby," Ray answered. 

 "Yeah, but sounded like a bullfrog," Lynda answered. 

 "Excuse me?" 

 "Ray, you snore." 

 "No, I don't." 

 "Yeah you do. Sounded like this." Lynda made a noise that sounded like a
cross between a sick goose and a bullfrog. "Kept me up half the night."
Lynda turned to Welsh. "How about you, sir?" 

 "Okay, I guess. Listen, the judge wants to begin at ten o'clock, which is
in three hours. We need to leave in two. So, get moving." He left. 

 After finishing their breakfast, Ray let Lynda have first dibs on the
shower. While she changed into her working outfit, Ray took his shower,
then changed in the bathroom. By the time Lynda was putting on her makeup,
Ray came sauntering out, wearing a brown Armani suit, white shirt, a brown
tie, and brown shoes. 

 "Whoa, lookin' good, Ray." Lynda smiled. 

 "Of course," Ray smiled back. "Not bad yourself." 

 Lynda looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her long hair had been
pulled into a tight bun. She was wearing a three-piece, navy business
outfit, and matching navy heels. She looked really professional, not to
mention she looked ten years older. "Thanks. Ready?" 

 "Let's go." 

 After grabbing her laptop and disks from her suitcase, Lynda and Ray
exited the room and met up with Welsh and the other agents. They got into
separate cars and went to the nearby courthouse where they were quickly
whisked into a courtroom. Soon, they case was underway. 

 "I'm glad that everyone made it on time," said the judge, Mary Stevens,
to the parties present. "I know that with everyone's full cooperation, we
can get the preliminaries done with as soon as possible." 

 The first day had begun.  

* * * *  

 "Man, am I tired," Lynda yawned as she collapsed on her bed. "My fingers
hurt, my neck hurts, and I'm hungry." She kicked off her shoes just as
there was a knock on the door. Ray went to answer it. Welsh greeted the
two people. 

 "Lynda, great job," he said as he stepped inside. 

 "Mmm," Lynda mumbled. 

 "You know, I forgot to ask you how your father's taking care of my car,"
Ray spoke up as he removed his jacket. 

 Welsh suddenly started coughing furiously. "Vecchio, could you get me
some ice water, please?" 

 Ray nodded, grabbed the ice bucket, and left the room. 

 "You okay, sir?" 

 Welsh nodded and stopped coughing. "I'm fine, Lynda. Look, when Ray gets
back, tell him his car is fine." 

 "Dad is taking pretty good care of it." 

 "Lynda, Ray - the real Ray - owned a 1971 green Buick Riviera in mint
condition. Right after he left to go undercover, Fraser and your father
had to drive it into Lake Michigan because it was targeted by a
performance arsonist and exploded." 

 "Why not tell him the truth?" Lynda frowned. 

 "Because Ray is obsessed with this car. Trust me. If you tell him that
his car is at the bottom of Lake Michigan, he will kill Fraser and your
father. And I'm talking literally here." 

 Ray came back with a bucket of ice. Welsh started coughing again. Ray
quickly got a glass of ice water for his superior. "So, Lynda, is my car
okay?" 

 ". . . yeah, it's being really taken care of. Never better." 

 "I'm glad. I really like my car, you know. That car is one of a kind.
It's a hot piece of metal." 

 "Was anyway," Lynda replied softly. She closed her eyes and soon fell
fast asleep. Welsh finished his water and quietly left. Ray locked up
behind him, then went into the bathroom to get ready for bed.  

* * * *  

 The next month passed by quickly for Lynda. Every morning, she would rise
with the sun, get dressed, and head to the courthouse with Ray and Welsh.
For the entire day, she would type of everything and anything she was told
to. And every night, she would come home exhausted. Sometimes, she and Ray
would spend hours talking, Ray telling her stories of himself and Fraser,
and Lynda telling him stories of herself and her family, and the rest of
what was going on in the Squad Room. Lynda knew a friendship was forming
between them. 

 Unfortunately, the end of her duties came to an abrupt end. 

 On the last evening, she was packing up her things and putting them in
proper order. All the agents had gathered to see her and Welsh off. After
she was finished, Agent Grimes carried her stuff out to Welsh's car while
the others said their goodbyes. 

 "Peterson," Hobbes said. "You did an excellent job. Thank you for helping
with this case." 

 "No problem. I was happy to oblige. My fingers, on the other hand, may
not be so lucky." 

 Hobbes chuckled. "You do understand that until Vecchio returns that
you're still not permitted to tell anyone, right?" 

 "I understand." She shook hands with each of the agents. Then she turned
to Ray. 

 "I guess I'll be seeing you later," he smiled. 

 "Yeah. You take care, okay? You're going to be pretty busy with this
trial." 

 "You too." 

 Lynda smiled and then hugged him. Surprisingly enough, he hugged her
back. "Bye." 

 "Later." They separated. 

 "Vecchio," Welsh said. "Take care." He held out his hand. 

 "You too, sir." Ray shook it firmly. 

 Soon, Welsh and Lynda were pulling away. Lynda stared back at Ray until
she could no longer see him. Then she turned and settled into her seat.
"You were right, sir." 

 "Pardon?" 

 "I do like him. A lot." 

 "I can tell." 

 "I can't wait until he comes back." 

 "Neither can I, Lynda." He sighed. "Lynda, you did a great job. With your
help, Ray's trial should be completed in a month, two month tops." 

 "What can I say? All in a day's work." 

 "Don't you mean month?" 

 "Yeah. All in a month's work." Lynda rested her head against the
passenger window. She was happy to be returning to see her father, Fraser,
and Dief, but she was also going to miss Ray. She smiled, in spite of her
sadness. She only knew it would be a matter of time before he came back.
She sighed, closed her eyes, and fell fast asleep as Welsh drove them back
to Chicago.