Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, written purely for fun.

Author's Notes: Set in the A Year (More or Less) in the Life universe. This bit will make more sense if you read that first.

"Christ, Kowalski, you really lost it back there."

"Bite me, Vecchio."

"Would you stand still? You know, this really needs a few stitches. Let me take you down—"

"Fuck the stitches, fuck hospitals. The alcohol wipes are right there next to the butterfly bandages. Shut up and close up this sucker so I can kill half a bottle of Jack. It hurts like motherfucker and it won't hurt as much when it's clean and I'm drunk."

"You are—"

"Can it."

"Since we've established that I don't have an M.D., which makes my opinion worth shit, but I think you might have taken that guy's eye out."

"Boo fucking hoo. OW! Shit! Fuckfuckfuck!"

"At the hospital they have something called anesthetic. Maybe you've heard of it?"

"Nice, Kowalski. Thanks for that. Glad to see you didn't bust up your hand when you tried to beat that guy to death."

"Like I'm gonna lose any sleep over what I did to that scumbag. Real mad at myself for not taking out both his eyes. Did you see what he did to that kid? Did you see?"

"Yeah, I saw. You will lose sleep, I guarantee it, because—"

Fuck! Christ! That really hurts."

"Hang on. I'm nearly done. Just need to put the strips on. Can you… Yeah, like that. While you get nice and cozy with Jack, I'm gonna figure out what you can do around here, because I.A. is going to nail you to the wall on this one. You'll be out on leave two months minimum. The Organization for Oppressed Meth Dealers is going to make a huge fuss. They don't like it when one their own gets maimed. They're funny like that."

"Would you stop with the not funny and get on with it?"

"Ray, dammit, you got to keep it together. You've got one year, one fucking year, asshole, until you're eligible for retirement. They bust you before that, making this mortgage on your salary as the night watchmen at the YMCA isn't going to cut it."

"You done?"

"Not yet. Would you listen to me? Welsh goes to bat for us every fucking time. But you can't blind meth dealers and expect him to back you up. Okay? He can't. Don't do that to him, Ray. Because he will back you up, and then he'll get fucked over and then the shit will trickle down and we'll get fucked over. You're done, sleeping beauty. Are we on the same page here? Retirement bennies, make mortgage, keep it reined in for another year?"


"Okay, okay. I'll try."

"You drive me fucking crazy. You know that?"

"Yeah. The feeling's mutual. Ray?"


"Pissy time's over. Ray? He… The kid. He looked like Fraser."

"Yeah, I know."