A/N: So this is another Summer Secret Santa fic for boutondor. Yes, I said I have a lot. It's going to take me a fairly long while to post all this. But hey, I have company now who slows down my writing so it's win/win, right?
Thanks to Divinia Serit for betaing.
x tromana
Title: Emerald City
Author: tromana
Rating: T
Characters: Jane/Lisbon
Summary: Two perceptions of reality, one right, one wrong. Who was the one wearing rose-tinted glasses? AU Post 2x05
Disclaimer: Not mine
Notes: Written for boutondor in the Jello Forever Summer Secret Santa. Beta'd by Divinia Serit.
Emerald City
Rose tint my world, keep me safe from my trouble and pain
Floorshow, The Rocky Horror Show
Prologue
And this is what happened:
It's dark and dingy down by the docks at night. Well, it is all the time, but when it's dark, even more so. By all regards, it's not a pleasant environment. Sensible law-abiding people avoid it. Well, would you want to mix with the low life scum attracted to that kind of area? With the drug dealers, the hookers, the gangs? The types who have their own rules, their own laws and think they are above everybody else's. Can't see the use in them. Too rigid, too callous. Don't take into account that each case is different and thus, should be treated individually. That's how the world should work, sweetheart. That's how it works down here.
Except when the cops decide it's time to intervene.
A man has been murdered recently.
A Fred Johnston. Not that his name matters too much. Not down here, anyway.
He's dead. Nothing's going to change that, no matter how many cops investigate, poking their noses in where it isn't wanted.
He probably died for a good reason as it is.
But still. A lone cop insists on working the case, even during the graveyard shift. They want redemption for dear old Fred, though nobody else particularly cares.
Not around here, anyway.
As long as this cop doesn't bother anyone else, lets them get on with their business, then they're more than welcome to waste their time. Everybody else has a far more useful way to spend the small hours of the night. It might be drinking themselves into oblivion, getting off their heads with less than legal drugs, gambling away life savings. But that's their prerogative.
As it's the prerogative of the cop to sit in the state-issue SUV, sipping periodically on coffee that is no doubt growing colder and colder by the second.
There's movement up ahead. The bust they've apparently been waiting for. Carefully, quietly, they slip out of the car and onto the cold, hard concrete of the docks. Within seconds, their gun is drawn.
Sensible, given the neighborhood and considering just how unwelcome their kind is here.
They watch, eagle-eyed as the gang draws closer. Waiting, just waiting, for the right moment. For when the ringleader gives them reason for arrest.
Because they don't want to kill. That's not their job.
"And did you see how Johnston stumbled when I shot him? Didn't see that coming, did he?"
Eyes twitch.
Not the one they expected to say that. Then again, it was surprising that any of them said something at all.
But their kind love to gloat.
Of all the ones to say it, it had to be him though, didn't it? The cop recognized him, the self-confessed perpetrator the moment he came out of the shadows.
Admittedly, it's been a long while since they last clapped eyes on one another. Both now embarrassed to be associated with their kind. They are, after all, the two opposite sides of the coin. The cop and the criminal. It's no wonder they don't want to be connected with one another.
It is very intimidating to their peers. Holds them back in their respective careers.
A warning shot is fired.
The gang scatters - except for the perp.
He recognized the cop too and is far too intrigued to leave.
He hadn't even realized that the team working the case has changed. He'd assumed it still came under narcotics' jurisdiction. After all, almost all their criminal activities was drug related. Smuggling, dealing, taking, the whole shebang. No wonder the cop has revulsion in their eyes. How someone so close - so damn close - to them could break the very rules they have sworn to uphold is beyond them.
But that's unsurprising.
Because the cop lives with a blinded view on life. The one where everyone needs to be treated the same. Not as the unique individuals that they are.
They circle each other, almost sizing one other up.
It's hard to say who has the advantage. Both builds have their benefits and weaknesses. Either could come out on top.
The cop licks their lips. Painfully dry. The skin is beginning to chap.
Not a concern though. Not as much as the man standing before them.
Both are pointing guns at one another now. Both have narrowed eyes.
"I have killed before."
"So have I."
One is proud, the other is not. One killed for fun, essentially because they wanted to. The other, to protect vulnerable people and to stop that person from killing again.
The criminal fires another shot. It goes wide, piercing the tire of the cop's car instead.
Next time, it's going to hit the cop.
Two bullets cross in the air. One finds its target. Shot, dead.
The other catches an arm, barely a graze.
It's not surprising that it's the cop that makes it out alive.
TBC…