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Amy Santiago disagreed with her conscience. She didn’t always - but in this particular instance, she did.
She had a huge midterm coming up in two weeks and was planning on spending her Friday night studying for it, but the boyish voice in the back of her head would not let up.
“Ames, you gotta go to that party Kylie’s been telling you about all week!”
She rolled her eyes and started flipping through her textbook. “I should really be studying for that Art History exam. I’m already behind on next week’s reading.”
“Behind on next week’s reading?" Her conscience scoffed. “Santiago, chill. You can go out and have fun tonight then study all day tomorrow. Live a little!”
She rifled through her pencil case in search of her favorite highlighter. “Nope.”
“But it would make Kylie so happy! You wouldn’t leave your best friend alone to fend for herself, would you?”
Her phone buzzed, and she tapped on the screen a few times to check Kylie’s latest snap - a very loud, very shaky video of what seemed like a group of drunk college students playing beer pong.
She shook her head and chuckled at her friend’s antics. “Yeah, she totally needs me.”
When Amy first became aware of her conscience, around the same time she began to act based on reason rather than just basic needs or sheer curiosity, her parents sat her down for The Talk #1. (The Talk #2 would cover The Birds And The Bees and wouldn’t be an issue until her teenage years… Victor Santiago was not looking forward to it at all.)
The almost-four-year-old eyed her parents warily as they both tried to figure out where to start. “Am I in trouble?”
Her father laughed and planted a kiss on her forehead. “No, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He turned to his wife and nodded at her to begin.
“Mija, we know you’re right around the age when you might start hearing a new voice in your head - a voice that is probably different from yours or mine or your dad’s or your brothers’. And, hmm - “ She glanced at Victor for support. The Talk #1 was always a complicated discussion, even if they already had a good deal of practice with their older children.
“We just want to tell you about this and answer any questions you might have, so that when you do start hearing your conscience, you’re not afraid.”
Amy stared back at them with big brown eyes. “My… con-sense?”
He chuckled. “Your conscience, mija. It’s a voice in your head that helps you decide right from wrong.”
“Amy, the important thing is that you know your conscience is your soulmate. Well, uh - not exactly.” She paused. “Your conscience has the voice of your soulmate and tells you what your soulmate might say or do if they were in your shoes… Do you understand?”
She nodded slowly.
Victor stroked his chin, considering how to simplify this for a young child. “Look at it this way, Amy. Having a conscience is like having a friend who is always there to give you advice.”
“That’s true! Before I even met your dad, he helped me face many, many tough decisions. I loved having his voice of reason with me all the time.”
Amy’s little eyebrows scrunched together. “Daddy was your conscience?”
She smiled. “Yes, mija.”
“Am I… going to marry my conscience?”
“You don’t have to, but they’re always going to be your soulmate. No one is going to understand you or love you more than this person. Meeting them for the first time is going to be one of the happiest moments in your life.”
Amy scowled. “The whiny brat who told me to steal Luis’ gummy bears yesterday is my soulmate?”
Her father’s eyes widened. “You’ve started - you can hear - your conscience said what?”
Her mother laughed nervously. “Now, now. It makes perfect sense that your soulmate’s moral compass isn’t fully developed yet! He’s probably not much older than you are.”
Victor grit his teeth. “Even at age three, I didn’t -”
“Mi amor.”
He exhaled loudly and placed a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Amy, you know how sometimes Miguel watches TV before doing his homework, even if your mother and I tell him to make school his number 1 priority?”
She bit her lower lip and nodded.
“We tell Miguel and you and your other brothers what we’d like for you to do because we love you and want what’s best for you, but you’re all free to make your own decisions.” He paused to make sure this was all making sense to her. “It goes the same way with your conscience. You don’t have to do anything your conscience tells you to do, even if they are your soulmate. You are your own person, Amy. You get to decide what you think is right or wrong. Is that clear?”
“Yes, daddy.”
“Peralta, wake up.”
His eyelids were heavy, and his vision was starting to blur.
The stern voice in the back of his head willed him to stay awake. “It’s the first day of the semester, Jake! Don’t you want to make a good first impression?”
“Too sleepy. Don’t care.”
“God, this is why you shouldn’t have stayed up watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles reruns last night.”
He yawned and closed his eyes. “Shut up. Trying to sleep.”
A good minute or two passed before his conscience spoke up again.
“Hey, wasn’t there that rumor that this professor writes great letters of rec? Didn’t you want good word in for your application at the academy?”
He straightened up at that, rubbed his eyes, and picked up a pen.
“There we go! Yeah, taking notes should keep you awake.”
He turned to a blank page in his notebook and started doodling the Nakatomi Plaza logo.
“Jake!”
When Amy had skipped 4th grade, none of the 5th graders wanted to be friends with her.
“Psst, Amy. You should totally knock over Keith Pembroke’s lunch tray later.”
“Yeah, no.” She shifted in her seat and clicked her pen. “And please stay quiet at least for the next half hour. This algebra stuff is new, and I don’t want to miss anything.”
Her conscience groaned. “But Pembroke tripped you in the hallway yesterday and got everyone to laugh at you!”
“I’m not going to stoop to his level.”
“They’re going to keep bullying you because you’re younger, smarter, and obviously better than them. You need to fight back!”
“I am going to fight back! In my own way... I’m going to top all of the exams next week.”
“Then everyones going to have to respect you because they’ll realize you’re the best! Yes!”
“Wait, you agree with me for once? You aren’t going to call me a dork?”
“Oh, you’re still a dork... But this plan’s great. There’s no way anyone can beat you in Math or Science or anything! You got this, Santiago.”
“Hey, Goose?” Jake looked up from his work, having just painted the nails of her left hand.
Gina kept her eyes glued to the TV screen. “What’s up, buttercup? And don’t tell me you ruined my wolf nail art because if you did, I swear to god, Jacob Peralta - “
“It’s good! It’s perfect. Don’t worry. I was just wondering, uh - “ He bit the inside of his cheek and dipped the small brush into the tube of nail polish a few times.
“Geez, is this about Jenny Gildenhorn again?” She sighed. “I thought we agreed it’s fine she dumped you. It’s not like she was your soulmate anyway.”
“No! It’s not about that. I mean, it sort of is. About soulmates. I was wondering about soulmates. I - “ He looked away and added in a low voice, “I was going to ask my mom about this, but I wasn’t sure if the soulmate-talk would make her sad.”
She hummed, examined her finished nails, and moved her right hand closer to him. “I’m listening.”
He started adding a base coat to her right thumb nail. “Do you think we’re going to hear their voices in our heads forever? Is anything going to change when we meet them?”
“My mom says your conscience goes away when you meet your soulmate.”
He stopped painting, a crestfallen expression appearing on his face. “I’m going to lose my conscience one day?”
“Well, you’ll have your soulmate to talk to in real life! It’s going to be even better than having a conscience, Jake. Don’t you want to have a proper conversation that goes beyond ‘do this’ or ‘don’t do that’?”
“I - I guess so. Yeah. You’re right.” He dipped the brush into the tube again and continued painting her nails.
“Why do you even care, Pineapples? I thought you hated your soulmate because she was too much of a teacher’s pet.”
“I do!”
“Mhm.”
He felt his face grow hot and kept his head down. “She just - she has a really pretty voice. And… I don’t know what it would be like without her in my head all the time, you know?”
Jake realized early on that the more he acted out, the more likely he was to hear the voice in his head. He didn’t even have to do anything terribly disruptive - the other day, his conscience lectured him for 5 minutes straight because he had colored outside the lines.
Half the time, it was annoying. Why did it matter whether or not his books were arranged in alphabetical order? Why shouldn’t he have orange soda with his cereal in the morning? Why bother practicing his handwriting?
The other half of the time (like when Gina was busy at dance class, when his dad was away for work, or when his mom was crying in her bedroom), it was nice having a friend of sorts to talk to. - Sure, it wasn't like they ever really got to talk, but it was still nice.
Over the years, Amy had grown accustomed to battling with her conscience over everything from grabbing a cookie out of the jar before dinner (”Do it, Amy! Your mom will never find out!”) to sneaking into an R-rated movie with her friends (”How could you not want to see Die Hard? Don’t be a Gruber, Santiago!”) to kissing Teddy at the end of their middle school dance (”WHY, AMY, WHY?!”).
It was a bizarre day, having nothing but radio silence from her conscience for over three waking hours. (In the past, it had seemed like the voice in the back of her head couldn’t go 10 minutes without coming up with some new irresponsible, inappropriate, or insane idea.) - Except everything about the day had truly been bizarre, what with her abuela passing away so suddenly.
She was just about to start her patrol shift when her mother called earlier. The news had taken her completely by surprise; she had just seen her grandparents alive and well at the Santiago family reunion two weeks ago. Her abuela had been one of her favorite people in the world.
Hands shaking and hot tears streaming down her cheeks, she radioed her commanding officer and asked for the rest of the day and the next day off.
Back at her apartment, she quickly packed an overnight bag and prepared for her drive upstate.
She disconnected her phone from its charger and considered calling someone. Anyone. She needed to process everything, but she wasn’t sure whether any of her brothers would be free to talk. She didn’t think Kylie or any of her fellow officers wanted to hear her sob for hours.
She threw herself onto her bed and buried her head into a pillow.
“Are you there? I haven’t heard from you in awhile.”
Nothing.
“I really want to talk to someone right now.”
Still nothing.
“I guess I’m not doing this right. You’re only meant to respond when I’m making some sort of decision.” She lifted her head and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Conscience, what should I do?”
Her conscience took a ragged breath then croaked out, “I - I don’t know.”
She sat up, leaned against the headboard, and pulled a pillow close to her chest. “You don’t?”
“I - no.”
She traced the embroidery on the pillowcase with her fingertips. “I was thinking of maybe putting together a scrapbook before leaving. I know I have an album of abuela’s photos here somewhere.”
“Yeah... yeah.”
It wasn’t an actual conversation, and she wasn’t much farther from where she was 5 minutes ago in terms of processing the death of her grandmother, but it was an interesting revelation - there was more to her soulmate than shenanigans and stupid suggestions.
Jake couldn’t figure out how he let Charles talk him into this blind date.
He was pretty darn sure that Bernice wasn’t going to be his soulmate. - Charles had said that she was a huge fan of Die Hard, which just didn’t add up with how much his conscience nagged him about his overnight Die Hard marathons.
But then again, Bernice was in grad school, which meant she probably cared as much about grades, note-taking, and doing well in life as much as his conscience did. Also, Charles said she had a really nice voice, so... what if?
“You should make a binder.”
“Excuse me?”
“If you really want to impress Bernice, you should make a binder and plan out the perfect date!”
“I am not making a binder.”
“Did you at least make reservations? Please say you’ve made reservations. Your date is this Friday!”
“Charles made the reservations. Everything’s going to be fine. That’s all set up, and all I have to do is be there and win Bernice over with my signature Peralta charm.”
“I’m sorry, did you just say Charles decided where you would eat for dinner?”
“Yup, you’re right, I should have him cancel that and plan the date myself.”
"Grab your office supplies, Peralta. It’s binder time.”
2 days, 53 Yelp reviews, $780, and 1 binder later, Jake found himself in a brand new suit and face to face with Bernice in front of an upscale Italian place.
He handed her a bouquet of flowers (arranged by only the best florist within 4 blocks of his precinct) and grinned nervously. “Bernice! I got these for you. Charles said you liked carnations?”
Her smile faltered a bit after she heard him speak, and Jake just knew. “Thanks, Jake! These are beautiful. Shall we go in?”
For a second, he considered calling the whole night off, but then he remembered all the effort he put in and all the non-refundable money he spent. He held the door open for her and followed her into the restaurant, trying to mentally psych himself up for this doomed date that obviously wasn’t going to go anywhere.
“Be nice, Peralta.”
Initially, it was easy to forget that she would one day be falling in love with the boy behind the voice in the back of her head. With how whiny he sounded and with how ridiculous his moral compass was, she wasn’t exactly yearning for romance. Things were even more laughable when his voice started to crack.
Naturally though, once puberty ran its course (and the voice in the back of her head sounded less like a childish brat and more like a cute goofy boyfriend), all she wanted was to match a face to the voice. Her conscience still infuriated her half the time, but at least he sounded attractive. It maybe wasn’t the worst thing that he was her soulmate.
Amy took a deep breath and examined the three sheets before her for the umpteenth time that afternoon. On her left, an offer to be captain of Ropesburg PD. On her right, an offer to transfer into the Ninety-Ninth Precinct. In the center, a list of pros and cons for each option.
She nibbled on her pencil and resisted the urge to take a cigarette break. This was the biggest decision she’d have to make since choosing which college to attend.
“Ditch Ropesburg and transfer to the Nine-Nine.”
"How can you just say that? You seriously want me to turn down a promotion as big as this one?!”
“You’ve been to Ropesburg yourself, Santiago. You know that being captain of Snoresville is going to be way worse than not getting promoted at all. Even as captain, you wouldn’t have much to do other than oversee cases on tricycle theft. You wouldn’t get to fight crime the way you wanted to in the first place!”
“It was pretty boring over there...”
“You should transfer to the Nine-Nine, gain some more experience as a detective, and take the sergeant’s exam after a few years. Turning down one offer for promotion doesn’t mean you won’t be able to climb the ladder at all, Amy.”
She nodded and read her list over one last time.
“Also, apparently the Nine-Nine set the course record for a near perfect run at last year’s Tactical Village? Yeah, you need to get in on that stat.”
She chuckled, picked up her phone, and dialed the number to Captain McGintley’s office.
“Hi, Captain McGintley? This is Amy Santiago. I’m calling about the offer to transfer into your precinct.”
She grabbed a post-it and quickly wrote down the details he was giving her.
“Yes, sir. - Detective Jake Peralta? - Alright, I can't wait to meet you and my new partner then. Thank you so much!”
Jake strolled into the bullpen, 40 minutes late - as per usual. He dropped his bag by his desk, took a swig of coffee, and sat down.
“Will you at least throw away the candy bar wrappers from last week? You’re going to get ants all over your desk, I swear.”
“What are you talking about? My desk isn’t due for a clean up until a whole month from now.”
Terry called out to him just as he was logging onto his computer. “Jake, don’t forget, your new partner is in today.” He gestured toward Captain McGintley’s office. “She’s just about to finish her meeting with the CO.”
Jake groaned. “Sarge, I told you I didn’t need a new partner! I’m a perfectly capable, strong, independent lone wolf.”
“Okay! Okay. Don’t panic. You might still have time to make your desk look like less of a pigsty. Just throw all the coffee cups and candy wrappers away and maybe stack those case files neatly.”
“First of all, I am not panicking. Second of all, I am not cleaning up this mess.” He opened up his e-mail and scrolled through his new messages. “If this girl can’t handle Jake Peralta, then she can transfer back out of the Nine-Nine.”
“Give her a chance, Peralta! You never know, she might be - "
If Jake weren’t completely taken aback by the new voice coming from right behind him, he probably would’ve wondered why his conscience stopped all of a sudden. Instead, he whipped around and stood up quickly.
His new partner smiled at him warmly and reached out to shake his hand. “Jake Peralta, right? I’m Amy Santiago. I’m really looking forward to working with you.”
He was somehow both acutely aware and not at all conscious of how firm her handshake was and how soft her skin felt. His heart seized in his chest at how familiar yet novel this all seemed.
It took a second longer than socially acceptable, but he finally dropped her hand and grinned. “Did you make a binder before transferring here?”
Her eyes widened, and a brilliant smile flashed over her face. “I did.”