Andrei - Peace, anyone?

From my desk, I watch her walk back into the squad room and set a cardboard box on top of the empty desk. She starts piling things out of the box (a plaque with her name on it, a framed photo, an external hard drive, three journals, a blue wireless keyboard and a blue-and-white key lanyard. She has had that lanyard since the Academy. 

When the box is empty, she tosses it under the desk and takes a seat, pressing the power button on the monitor. 

Yes, I realize I am staring and she might punch me if she caught me, but I cannot help it. My eyes seem to wander to her every time I try to focus on the report I am supposed to be writing. When she sinks in her seat and takes out her phone, I drag my eyes off her and focus on the screen in front of me. 

The rest of the unit (Ian, Leonard and James) are crowded around Leonard's desk. They are talking, not so quietly, about how much they do not want to work with Jocelynn Sanchez. I do not understand their reluctance to work with the sharpest detective in the entire building. She has proven over and over that she belongs her, more so then they have. 

Ian catches my eyes and shakes his head before excusing himself from the conversation and sauntering over. He plops into the seat next to my desk and smiles that big, goofy grin at me. 

"What?"

"You are one lucky son of a bitch," he says, shaking his head with pure amusement. 

"What are you talking about?"

"You finally get to work with her," he tells me. "After all these years of wishing and waiting, it's finally happening,"

"She hates me," I remind him. 

"It's Sanchez. She hates everyone," he says around a laugh. "She especially hates your friends, but who can blame her? They're fucking horrible,"

"I know,"

"Hey, maybe she'll see that you're not like them and fall in love with you, and you two will live happily every after," he says with a grin. 

I toss my pen at his forehead. "Get back to work," I say to him. "Find out if we have anything on the burnt medal we found at the crime scene,"

With a nod, he pushes out of the chair and walks out of the room. My eyes involuntarily go back to Jocelynn Sanchez. She is typing on her keyboard, her eyes narrowed at her screen. I wonder if she is working on this morning's case, or a case she was working before she was transfered.

It is clear in her expression as well as her posture that she hates this. She does not want to be here. I wish there were something I could do to make it bearable. An hour after she sits down, I've gotten through the report of the case so far, cataloguing all the evidence we've discovered. 

Deciding to take a break and check on our autopsy, I push out of my seat. Ian is with James, trying to figure out who our John Doe is. Without fingerprints or a DNA analysis, I am not sure how he is planning on achieving that goal, but hopefully he's not wasting his tine chasing down useless leads. 

I make my way to Sanchez's desk. If we are to work together, we should at least speak. I do not know how I am going to pull that off. The woman does not speak to anyone, least of all my team. She and I have had a total of one conversation in the time we have known each other, and that was during our time in the Academy. 

Her desk is across from Ian's. The previous occupant, also a woman, transfered to Vice a week ago. 

Trying not to startle her, I rap my knuckles on the top of her desk in a soft knock. When she looks up, her brows furrow slightly, like me being here is confusing. 

"Hi," I say to her with a smile. 

"Hello,"

I straighten my coat. "I am heading out for coffee. Would you like me to get you boba?"

The crease in her forehead deepens. "You want to get me boba?" she asks, her mild Spanish accent slipping out. 

"If you want me to," I say with a nod. "I am already going out and I figured you would want one,"

Her hesitation lasts a lifetime. Her deep brown eyes pierce mine as she takes two whole minutes to come to a decision. 

"Okay, sure," she finally says, reaching into her jacket's pocket for what is undoubtedly her wallet. 

"There is no need. It is my treat," I tell her. 

"No, that's okay," she says, pulling a five dollar bill from her wallet. 

"No, I will pay for it. It is one boba. Do not worry about it,"

She slants her head at me. "Why would you do that?"

"I want to," I tell her with a smile. "Consider it an apology for my team's behaviour earlier,"

She hesitates once more, appearing to have an internal battle with herself. "Okay, fine. Thank you,"

"It is my pleasure,"

Before heading out of the building, I head down to the morgue to check on our autopsy. Emory informs me that she will have the report ready by the time I get back. She also mentions that she is sending a blood sample to the lab for analysis, as well as the victim's fingerprints to be ran through our database. 

Leaving her, I make the drive to a coffee shop five minutes from the precinct. We have coffee in our building, but it honestly tastes like shit. When I have my coffee, I drive to Sanchez's favorite bubble tea place to get the one thing that might put her in a better mood right now.