Morning is a Long Time Coming (1/8) by Bean Rated PG for mild language Keywords: Bayliss. Lewis. Munch. New character. Summary: A popular local band plays at the Waterfront, and Bayliss finds himself intrigued by the lead singer, known only to him as "Logan." Disclaimers and the like: The Homicide people don't belong to me, obviously, but to Baltimore Pictures and NBC Productions, and were used without permission. I'm not tryin to steal em, so don't bug me! Rowan Logan, her friends and disfunctional family, however, are mine... so mits off! :) This takes place in season 6, before Lewis' suspension, before Cox leaves and before Stivers becomes a Homicide police. I chose this period because I like Cox and, no matter what casting changes the show goes through, Frank Pembleton will always be in any Homicide story I write. And besides that, the world of Homicide wouldn't be complete without Meldrick Lewis! The song included in this section is not by myself, but is actually by the amazing Edwin McCain. The line, "Sometimes there's a boy," was actually written by him as, "Sometimes there's a girl," but was changed for purposes of the story. It was used without permission, but there's no infringement intended, blahblahblah. The title of this story comes from the Bette Greene novel by the same name, which is the sequal to Summer of My German Soldier. If You haven't read these two wonderful books, they're highly recommended! Feedback is not only welcomed, it is very much appreciated. Now, on with the show. :) -------------------- Morning is a Long Time Coming (1/8) "So what's the name of this place again?" Rowan Logan asks her friend and band mate, Kevin Allison. "Uh... I'm not sure," he replies, "but I know it's at Fells Point." "You don't even know the name?" she asks. "How will we find it?" "Easy," James O'Connel says with a smile, "it's right across from the police station." "No y'all don't have us booked at a cop bar!" Rowan cries, dismayed. "When they find out I'm under twenty-one, they probably won't even let us in... and they'll arrest us as well. That's exactly what I need." "Please, Ro, don't worry about it!" the fourth band member, Ethan Rutger, speaks up quickly. "You look about twenty-five; no one'll know you're only nineteen." Rowan turns to study her reflection in the full-length mirror and smiles slightly. She's wearing black leather pants and a black leather, fairly low-cut, sleeveless top that reveals her midriff. It's sexy without being slutty, a line she is careful to never cross, and the ponytail she has pulled her long hair up into helps keep her on the safe side of it as well. "Yeah, I guess you're right... still, if anyone asks, I'm gonna dodge the question. I look like Shania Twain... only with smaller hair," she adds almost as an afterthought as she pulls on her black boots. "'Don't be stupid,'" Ethan quotes with a grin. "'Don't be absurd,'" continues Kevin. "'Don't be ridiculous, you know we love you,'" concludes James. Rowan claps her hands over her ears. "Shut up, all of you! I can't believe you guys even know that song." "Are you kidding?" Kevin says, grabbing his car keys off the mantle. "Shania's a total hottie... I love her videos!" Rowan shoots him a mischievous grin. "So are you saying I'm a total hottie too?" He laughs. "I'm not answering that question due to the fact that you're my best friend and I can't accurately judge how hot you are," he recites as if by rote. "Now let's get out of here before I choke on my own foot!" Tim Bayliss looks around the bar with satisfaction. "What'd I tell ya, Munch?" he asks one of the co-owners of the place with a smile. "A live band is so much better than karaoke... look how many people we have already!" "I gotta agree with Timmy on this one, Munchkin. You was wrong!" Meldrick Lewis, the third owner of the bar, speaks up. "Though I still say three hundred is pretty damn steep for an hour and a half set." "Get over it, Meldrick," Bayliss tells him. "They're pretty big, and to get a band like that you gotta pay. It could be a lot worse." John Munch just shakes his head, having ignored the last few moments of conversation. "Nope, all these people are here because they think we're still having karaoke tonight. Won't they be disappointed when some lame ass band with a loser lead singer who lost his shampoo back in the early eighties comes strolling in to play what we'll shudder to call music," he says in his usual sarcastic manner. Munch, tall, skinny and dressing in nothing but black, looks the part he plays, that of the squad cynic and wise-ass. "Excuse me," a female voice says from behind them. The three cops turn to face the speaker and are surprised to see a pretty girl dressed in black leather standing there with a rather angry expression on her face. "Who are you?" Bayliss asks, completely losing any sense of tact. "Ah... I'd be the loser lead singer who lost 'his' shampoo back in the early eighties, I think," she replies with a sardonic smile. "Ah... no, see, you misunderstood me..." Munch says quickly. "Did I?" the girls asks him. "I don't think so. But it's alright. We're used to stereotypes," she says with a gesture to the three guys standing just behind her. "And right now we're looking for the owner of this place... or at least the one in charge of bookings." "Well you found us," Lewis speaks up. "I'm Meldrick Lewis, he's Tim Bayliss and the big mouth is John Munch, but just ignore him cuz that's what we all do." She smiles again. "I'm Logan and the others are Kevin, James and Ethan. If you'd like, we can go ahead and start setting up so that we'll be ready to play in about half an hour or so." "Yeah, that sounds good," Bayliss speaks up. "The stage is up there," he says, pointing to the back of the bar. It's a small stage, but it will do for their needs. Rowan nods. "Thanks, y'all. We'll holler when we're ready." She smiles again, and the four set off to get their equipment. "Jesus Christ, who knew she'd be hot?" Munch says suddenly. "Who knew she'd be Southern?" Lewis replies. "Who knew she'd be a she?" the third stooge demands. ------------- As Rowan said, they're ready to go in half an hour. She stands before the microphone and looks out at the small crowd, suddenly nervous. It's been a while since the band has played a bar, and they all know cops can make one hell of a tough audience. But Rowan has no doubt of their ability. She smiles and begins to speak. "Hey, y'all, and welcome to the Waterfront. My name's Logan, and this is Kevin, Ethan and Jimmy, and we're The X. For our first song..." -------------- An hour and a half later the crowd has cleared somewhat, it being after midnight, but Rowan knows it has been a successful show. She'll do their last song, collect the money and they'll be off. No problems, no worries, no conflicts. "It's getting late, so we're about to wrap up, but we've got one last song to do before we go. This one is pretty special to me..." she pauses for a moment, thinking. "This song was written late one night when I was sitting up just... listening to the city. It's so strange to be surrounded by people and yet feel lonely. That's what this song is about - loneliness and searching for home. I mean, as y'all can probably tell, I'm not from Baltimore," she smiles as the crowd chuckles - her accent certainly hadn't come from living in Baltimore. "I'm actually from Georgia, and sometimes I really miss it. But that's not the real point, because home could be a certain house... a part of the world... or even a person... but it's just the one place where you belong the most." She shakes her head slowly. "Anyway, without further ado, this is '3am'." Bayliss smiles, her words touching him because he has felt the same thing over and over again. He loves Baltimore, but it has never felt like home to him. He is a homicide detective and is often awake at 3am, roaming the streets or sitting in a near-empty station house... it's the loneliest time in the world. There is something about this girl... she seems to understand him without even knowing it. He shakes his head, figuring it's just a figment of his imagination, and starts paying attention to the song. Rowan nods to Kevin, and he begins to lightly strum his acoustic guitar. It's a beautiful, poignant song, reminding everyone of just exactly what it's supposed to... 3am. Being wide awake with no where to go, no one to talk to... and being completely lonely. "It's 3am, and I'm awake and my heart's still dreaming. It's 3am, and outside I hear the souls still screaming. It's been so long, you know, since my head's been this clear. It's just like a ship lost in the night: I just don't know which way I should steer," she sings in her lovely golden voice. "But I keep chasing my dreams, and only you can make 'em real. And I pour my heart out every night. Do you know the way that I feel?" Yes, Bayliss feels that he does. "Sometimes this is work, and don't you know sometimes this is play. Because sometimes you're listening to me, But sometimes you don't hear a damn word that I say. Sometimes there's a boy; sometimes I go home alone. And I guess it's no wonder right now that I do very well on my own." That's the story of Tim's life: being alone. But he's used to it... or so he likes to think. "But I keep chasing my dreams, and only you can make 'em real. I pour my heart out every night. Do you know the way that I feel? "And I will play just as long as you will listen. Now I'm in no big hurry to get back on the road. Sometimes in this lifestyle, I feel like there's so much I'm missing." That's almost a joke - the life of a cop, especially a detective, and *especially* a homicide detective, has a tendency to disconnect one from the rest of the world. "Well I'm missing you, it's just that I'm... so far from home... oooohhh, yeah... "It's 3am; I'm awake and my heart's still dreaming. It's 3am, and outside I hear the souls... still screaming," she concludes softly as the crowd erupts into applause. "Thank you," she says with a smile. "We're The X, everyone, goodnight!" Microphones and amps are turned off, and the four band members stroll from the stage to the bar. "You guys are pretty good," Lewis says as they approach. Kevin smiles. "Thanks, man, but it's all Logan. Without her we'd probably suck." "You're far too modest, Kev," she says with a grin. "I can't play a lick of guitar." She turns to the three men sitting at the bar. "It's pretty late, so we were hoping to just collect our money and go... would y'all mind if we came back tomorrow to get our stuff?" "Late?" Bayliss speaks up. "It's only a little after twelve. I saw you eyeing the pool table. You play?" Kevin, Ethan and James laugh but don't say anything. Rowan just smiles. "Occasionally," she says softly. "Do you?" "Yeah, pretty often." Her eyebrows go up. "Should I take that as a challenge?" she asks with a half smile. "How 'bout... double or nothing? If you win, you don't have to pay us for the set... but if I win, we get what you owe us twice over." He grins. "Now that's an offer I can't pass up." "Alright, I'll go rack 'em up." As she leaves Lewis lets out a low whistle. "Yo, bunk, you suck at pool. How the hell you 'spect to beat her? That's six hundred bucks, man," the light-skinned black man says, scratching his goatee. "Oh come on, I'm better than she is!" he says with an exasperated sigh. "Don't worry, I'll win." Rowan's band mates still remain silent, trying as they are to hold in laughter. "We'd better get going. Logan doesn't like to lose in front of an audience..." Ethan says with a grin. "Ok, see you guys later... maybe you can play for us again or something," Munch says as the guys turned to go. "Yeah, sure... though after your friend plays Logan in pool he may never want to see us again," Kevin tells him, laughing. Bayliss just shrugs, grabs his beer and strolls over to the pool table, Lewis and Munch hot on his heels. Rowan grabs a cue and smiles at him. "You can have first shot," she says sweetly. Thinking it would be unfair to take advantage of her, he shakes his head. "Nah, you go ahead. I want to finish my beer." She grins. "Suit yourself." She aims carefully and *clack* sends the white sphere smashing into the triangle of balls. They split apart and one, two, three meet their objective and fall with a clunk into various pockets. She continues on this way until the game is won, Bayliss never even getting a chance. "I told you you wanted first shot," she says with a little smile. Lewis and Munch just stand there, laughing. Bayliss, for his part, is not amused. "You been had, bunkie. What'd I tell ya?!" Lewis cries. "You owe me six hundred bucks, Officer Bayliss," Rowan says, her voice bright with amusement. "That's *Detective* Bayliss... and I don't have six hundred bucks." "Excuse me, *detective*, did I just hear you say you don't *have* six hundred dollars?" "I knew this was a stupid idea," Munch says. "Well I wasn't expecting to lose!" he retorts angrily. Rowan glares at him. "No, of course you weren't. You saw a pretty little song bird with lots of hair and no brains! Well excuse me for being able to kick your ass all over this damn pool table! Now I'd like my money, at least three hundred of it, and I'll be back tomorrow for the rest. Alright?" Bayliss looks taken aback. "Alright, alright... there's no need to get pset. I misjudged you - I'm sorry." She frowns, surprised. "Well it's no big deal anyway... people just have a tendency to group you in a certain category, you know... like a loser who lost her shampoo back in the eighties," she says with a smile to Munch, who has the decency to look embarrassed. "But anyway..." she says with a glance at her watch, "it's late... and this is boring when it's so easy." She laughs and grabs her coat and scarf. "Night, guys. I'll be back tomorrow." Rowan slips into her coat, smiles at the three police, and steps from the warm bar out onto the cold street. She's half a block away when she stops dead, suddenly realizing she hadn't collected the money from Bayliss. She turns around to go back, but he's running toward her, money in hand. "Don't you know it's dangerous to run down the street with money waving like that?" she calls to him with a smile. He grins and stops in front of her. "Well I figured you'd be pissed that you forgot, so..." "Thanks," she says quietly, taking the money, "that's nice of you." There is a long silence as they both stand there, shivering slightly despite their coats, and wonder what to say next. Bayliss thinks of something first. "It's pretty late, like you said, so maybe I should walk you..." he offers tentatively. She looks up at him in surprise. "It isn't that far... but yeah, I'd appreciate that. I'm staying with a friend tonight because it's so late, and his place is only a couple of blocks from here." "'His'?" Bayliss questions with a teasing smile. "A friend, detective, relax," she says, laughing. Silence settles around them once again as they stroll through the cold night. "So..." Rowan says slowly, "what kind of detective are you?" He smiles slightly. "Homicide, I've been there for five years, and yeah, I like it well enough. As well as can be expected, I guess." Rowan laughs. "Damn it, you just ruined my attempts at small talk!" She pauses. "Homicide, huh? So you're one of the big boys. But I guess in Baltimore it's not as big a deal as it is in other cities... I mean, no special badge, no special pay... You guys are just smarter, better dressed street cops." She smiles up at him sweetly. Now it's his turn to laugh. "How come you know so much about Baltimore homicide detectives?" he asks with amusement. She shrugs and suddenly seems very quiet. "I just do," she says, and Bayliss senses that she won't offer any more, but she surprises him again. "I mean, I've never killed anyone or anything... but my father knows people. Ya know, somethin like that..." she shrugs again, obviously uncomfortable. "Hey, don't worry about it. I didn't mean to pry... it's just that most people in this city stay as far away from cops as possible." Rowan stops walking and turns to face him. "Then I guess most people in this city don't realize what they're missing." The remark puzzles Bayliss, and before he can form a reply, she turns and nods to the building they are standing in front of. "We're here," she says, "I told you it wasn't far. Thanks for the walk." "Yeah, anytime," he replies quietly. "I'll have the rest of your money tomorrow." She smiles. "Tomorrow then." With that, she turns and enters the building, leaving Bayliss to wonder. He shakes his head slowly and turns away from the building. Logan... damn, he hadn't asked her last name or anything... he hopes to hell she drops by the bar during his shift, and not Lewis or Munch's. It's funny, but there's something about her that just... intrigues him. Like after the pool game she seemed so confident and strong, but then when he asked her how she knew about homicide detectives... well, she seemed like a lost, scared little girl. Bayliss grins to himself. So what, now he's turning into some sort of pedophile? That brings him to another question: how old is this mystery girl? Twenty-three, twenty-four... something like that, surely. Her eyes seem to reveal impossible secrets, things even he can't begin to guess. He laughs aloud suddenly. "Damn it, Bayliss, you're a psycho. Get over it; she's probably laughing at you right now," he admonishes himself. She's a beautiful woman, the lead singer in a fairly popular local band... she's smart, talented, funny... and he is just some cop who happens to be part owner of a bar her band played in one night. With his luck he'll never even see her again. End part 1/8