Synopsis: Richie Petry always wanted to be smarter. And he finally got his wish in a way that profoundly affects the 101st, especially Peter and Jody.
April's Fool
by ValleyA
Part One
Chapter One
Richard Petry was born on April 1st twenty-four years earlier on a clear, crisp night, just minutes past midnight. Both parents were proud of their new son and of the daughter who followed the next year. It was a happy household for another two years until tragedy struck.
Repeatedly.
An electrical accident at age three killed Richard's younger sister and nearly killed Richard. He was in a coma for weeks before he awakened to overjoyed parents – overjoyed until they realized the child before them was nothing like the one they had known earlier.
Wide, vacant eyes stared back at them, nearly devoid of life. Richard's parents were eventually forced to grieve for the loss of the child they had raised up to that point, even though he was still alive.
One year later, Dorina Petry buried her dear husband who had died in an industrial accident at work, but in her heart, she knew he'd been dying a slow death since the doctors pronounced little Richie as severely mentally impaired.
Richie became her sole focus in life. She was determined that she would prove the doctors wrong, prove that he would be able to live on his own and support himself as an adult. And eventually, she did see her vow come to pass.
Richie turned into a fine young man, caring and considerate – a happy boy, who loved to work with his hands, creating wood carvings that often supplemented his income, allowing him to build up a considerable savings account.
Richie was still the light of her life and as Dorina entered her golden years, she had the quiet comfort of knowing Richie would be able to take care of himself.
oOoOoOoOo
Richie Petry had worked at the 101st precinct for nearly two years and he was very proud of his job. He strove to consistently do the kind of work in which his supervisor, Victor Manseau, would be proud of.
Unable to remember his own father, Victor was a man who Richie imagined his father would have been like, based on the stories his mother always told him. In a way, doing a good job for Victor was like doing a good job for his own father.
He recalled a conversation from the previous day with his mother, a wisp of a woman at five foot two compared to his six foot three frame, "Mom, why do people always think I'm stupid? Why do they call me simple when I'm not?"
"Richie, honey, we know you are not stupid or simple. We know you have many, many gifts. What's the rule we use when others are hurtful?"
"Never remember what others think, only what I want to be," he repeated as he rolled his eyes, but then he flashed her a quick smile, letting her know he really believed in at least part of her message.
"That's right, honey. If you can look yourself in the mirror with pride," she said as she pointed to a mirror hanging on the wall near their chairs in the dining room, "then it just doesn't matter what others think."
Richie nodded as he reached forward to hug her, his thick curly hair brushing her cheek. When he clung a little longer than usual, she added, "I know it stings when you have to put up with the meanness of others, but that's when you remember just how loved you are."
That last bit was exactly what Richie needed and he tightened his grip on her for a moment before releasing her. "I love you, Mom."
"I know, honey, and I love you, too. More than life itself."
Still smiling at the thought of his mother's steadfast love, Richie looked down at his janitor's cart and decided to get back to the job at hand. As he pushed his cart down the hallway in the process of collecting trash from the various offices, a couple of teenager boys came from the opposite direction and started taunting him, somehow seeing easy prey from the very moment they first laid eyes on him.
"Hey, look, Alex! We got us a moving dumbbell," the taller boy said with a sneer.
Richie tried to ignore them, but they moved directly into his path, blocking his cart.
"That's right, Andy, wonder how it escaped the gym?" Alex said as he moved closer to Richie, causing him to back up against the wall.
"I-I don't want to talk to you. You are being mean and I have w-work to do," Richie said as he folded his arms in front of him, keeping his eyes downward, never meeting their gaze.
"No, Alex, it's not the gym he escaped from. It's the loony bin. Don't you know they lock up idiots like this? For public safety and their own. See, he's too stupid to know if what he's doing would even hurt himself or not."
When Richie didn't respond right away, only rocked on the balls of his feet with his eyes squeezed tightly shut, hoping if he could ignore them long enough, they would just go away, Andy reached up and flipped off Richie's prized Detroit Tigers baseball cap.
Richie's blue eyes flashed open and he awkwardly groped for the cap, trying to catch it before it fell to the ground, but he was too slow. Alex used the momentum of Richie's movement to shove him forward a bit, causing him to crash into the janitor cart. The force of his impact threw the cart over onto its side, dumping most of its contents onto the floor of the large hallway, creating an awful mess.
"Oops, see what I mean? A real danger. What a stupid idiot!" Andy hooted as they both dissolved into laughter. Richie blinked back tears that burned at his eyes as he gazed forlornly at the clutter. He pushed himself up to a kneeling position.
"We better get out of here, Andy. This place is loaded with cops," Alex muttered as Richie tried to pick up the mess. In an abrupt flurry of movement, both boys found themselves roughly pushed up against the wall behind them.
A calming hand upon Richie's shoulder quieted his startled reaction. Glancing around sharply, Richie looked up into the crystal blue eyes of Jody Powell, his favorite lady cop, as she knelt beside him.
"Richie, are you okay?"
Suddenly embarrassed at being caught with tears in his eyes, he turned away. Then, he caught sight of Detective Peter Caine talking angrily to both teens as he pressed them against the wall.
"That happens to be a friend of mine you were pushing around there! I gotta tell you two I tend to take it very personally when my friends are treated poorly. Understood?"
Both kids nodded their heads widely, as they knew they'd been caught red-handed. "Don't let it happen again or you'll be dealing with my nastier side."
Peter pressed harder against the teens to emphasize his point, "This – this is nothing compared to my nastier side."
Narrowing his eyes even more, he demanded, "What are you doing wandering the halls unattended anyway?"
"We – we are here on a field trip," Alex stammered.
"Well, I think we better find your class and have a talk with your teacher."
The pale tone of both boys waned as Peter took each one by the shoulder and moved forward.
"You okay, Richie?" Peter asked softly, his tone altering dramatically from the gruff manner he had just addressed the teens.
"Yes, yes, Detective Peter. I'm okay," Richie said, unable to tear his eyes away from the sprawling mess before him.
Peter nodded. "Good, I'll be back in a sec to help clean up." Peter stopped and smiled. "Or better yet, boys, you pick up this mess before we find your class."
Standing over them as the teens began cleaning up the area, Peter extended a hand out to help Richie to stand. The moment their hands touched, Peter jumped from the sting of a strong static electrical shock.
"Sorry, Detective Peter, but you know it happens sometimes when I get really mad or really scared," Richie mumbled apologetically as he hovered beside Peter. Peter looked as if he were trying to rub some feeling back into his fingers.
"Yeah, I should have remembered that. It's okay, it didn't hurt... much." Peter chuckled as he said it, but his expression revealed the shock from Richie had hurt a lot more than he was willing to admit.
Richie didn't hear Peter's words, though. He was already lost in the sight of the mess on the floor before him, forgetting about Peter as he began to wring his hands.
Finally, he shook his head and said, "I can clean this up, Detective Peter. Really, I can. They might not do it right."
"They'll do it right, Richie. If they don't, they'll just keep on doing it until it is done right," Peter said firmly. "And if they don't do it just the way you want them to, you say something. They are your own personal slaves at the moment."
Richie hesitated in questioning Peter's authority, knowing Peter's last comment was meant to bring out a smile, but he just didn't feel like smiling right then. He was too busy struggling to allow the others to do his work and do it properly.
"Okay... if you say so," he said finally as he crossed his arms across his chest and rocked silently on the balls of his feet to comfort his dismay.
"It'll be fine, Richie. I promise," Peter said softly, his eyes never leaving the troublemakers before him.
Jody picked up Richie's baseball cap on the floor and handed it back to him. "Richie, here is your favorite baseball cap. It's fine, nothing got on it."
Richie's agitation was barely contained as he took the cap and shifted it around in his hands, never stopping long enough to put the cap back on his head.
Once the cart was righted and the clutter picked up, Peter turned to the boys. "All right, now apologize to the man."
After that was done, Peter took both of the wayward teens by the arm, "Come on, let's get to it."
He escorted the youths to the class who was just emerging from the forensics lab. The two teens waited as Peter had a stern talk with their instructor.
Peter walked up to Jody and Richie just as she was saying, "It's okay, Richie. Everything's good as new."
Richie frantically looked over the cart, rearranging things until everything was back in its proper place.
At that moment, Jody saw Victor, Richie's supervisor, coming towards them, followed by Peter. He met them halfway. The short, gray-headed African American stiffened as he listened to Jody's quietly spoken account of what had just transpired, his expression darkening at the story.
"You okay, pal?" Peter asked Richie softly, hesitating only a second before placing his hand on Richie's back.
Richie finally left the cart and straightened his shoulders as he nodded, but he was still unable to meet Peter's waiting expression.
"Better watch it, Detective Peter, I might shock you again," Richie warned slowly, looking downward.
"Don't worry about it, Richie," Peter replied. "I've already forgotten about it."
"That's my boy, Richie. You get his dander up and he'll knock your socks off just as sure as if he's hot-wired to a transformer!" Victor said in his usual jolly tone as he approached Richie.
Obviously, he had overheard the exchange between Peter and Richie. "That's why I keep him calm, cool, and collected, so I don't have to worry about him shocking me."
Victor patted Richie on the shoulder. "Sorry to hear you've had some trouble, son. Come on, you can help me for a bit. I'm not getting any younger, you know."
It was amazing to see how Victor's grandfatherly presence initiated such a positive change in Richie's dark and anxious mood.
"Ah, Victor, I have my work to do," Richie started in a halfhearted tone, but it was apparent that he wanted to be with Victor.
"Richie, I'm an old man who enjoys your company," Victor said in his characteristic raspy voice, placing a hand on Richie's shoulder and smiled widely as he faced him fully, not allowing Richie's gaze to wander anywhere but to his waiting face. "Now, would you deny an old man his simple pleasures?"
"No, Victor," Richie said slowly with a smile forming on his lips as Victor's arm stretched upward to wrap around his shoulder.
"Bye, Detective Peter and Detective Jody. I'll see you later," Richie said as he waved and they walked away.
oOoOoOoOo
"I'm so glad Richie's found a home here. He has a way of bringing out the gentleness in people," Jody said, walking with Peter in the opposite direction of Victor and Richie.
"Yeah, I just wish jerks like those kids didn't get such a thrill out of tormenting him," Peter muttered, still angry about the pointless encounter.
Absently, he continued to rub life into his tingling fingertips.
"They're kids, Peter. They just don't realize how much pain they cause by doing something like that," Jody replied.
"Well, somebody needs to teach them some tolerance."
"The same way you learned patience?" Jody teased, knowing the story of Peter's childhood experiences at the temple in Braniff.
"Maybe. Yeah, maybe that's just what they need," Peter said, the unpleasant memories of his encounters with the town bullies flushing his face with hints of injustices long past.
Jody patted Peter on the back as they walked. "Well, I can tell you this much, Peter. It wouldn't seem the same around here without Richie's smiling face."
Peter sighed as he thought about her statement, pushing away the last of his troubling anger. "Richie really has done it all by himself, hasn't he? We might have recommended him for the position, but he's done so much more with it than I would have ever imagined."
"Yeah, that's for sure. He's a hard worker and such a sweet kid."
"He's special, that's for sure," Peter agreed, then shaking his head, he laughed aloud before adding, "But he's no kid."
"Oh, he's just a big teddy bear. What makes you say that?" Jody asked suspiciously.
"Haven't you noticed the way he acts around you? How you're the only one who gets his special wood carvings as gifts?" Peter gave her a sly sideways glance before continuing. "I mean, you've only got a half dozen or so lining the top of your desk."
"What?" Jody demanded as she stopped in her tracks.
Peter was a few paces ahead of her, but he paused and purposefully meandered back to her, looking like he knew some grand secret.
"He's... got... a... crush... on... you, Jody Powell," Peter said with a dramatic smirk, poking her on the shoulder for added emphasis at the end.
"No, Peter," she argued. "He's just being sweet, that's all."
"Let him down easy, Jody. Don't you dare break his heart," Peter teased, shaking his still pointed finger at her.
"You know, you're one of the most irritating people I've ever known."
"Yeah, but also one of the cutest," he quipped as he walked away from her, still shaking his finger skyward.
"Arggh," she muttered as they exited the precinct.
oOoOoOoOo
"Come on, Richie. We've got some cleaning to do in here," Victor said as he unlocked a door to one of the secured storage lockers. "This place hasn't been cleaned in ages. I can't stand it any longer. We'll work in here until it's time to go home or we need a candy bar, whichever comes first."
Richie grinned broadly. "I know, Victor." His head continued to nod as he added, "I know the candy bar will be first."
Pulling down on Richie's baseball cap, Victor chuckled, "Yeah, I know, too. We are so bad, kid. Remember, you can't tell the wife I have a sweet tooth at work or I'm done for!"
Victor's response made Richie laugh out loud before he covered his mouth with his enormous hands to suppress his giggles. "That's right, Victor. We can't tell her... ever."
"Good going, kid. You remembered. Now, let's get to work."
Looking around the room, Victor said, "Since you're younger and better looking than me, you climb up on the step ladder and dust the shelves. I'm going to wash that window... it's filthy!"
Obediently, Richie pulled the ladder over to the shelving, and then retrieved his dusting supplies and climbed the first few steps of the ladder.
"Don't go up too high, son," Victor warned softly. "Remember, I know you as well as I know my own kids. You're still fretting over those bozos who were hassling you, aren't you?"
Richie stopped working without turning to look back at Victor and nodded his head solemnly.
"Talk to me, Richie," he quietly urged, knowing Richie needed to talk now or he'd suffer for it later, allowing his anger to stew until it became a problem.
In a quiet voice struggling to be brave, Richie said, "They were treating me like I was really stupid. I'm not stupid, Victor, I'm not."
"Of course, you're not, Richie," Victor said firmly, taking a step closer to him, but knowing better than to do more than that when Richie's emotions were high. He didn't want the young man to storm away, riding the rush of strong feelings.
"I hate it when people think I'm stupid, Victor," Richie said bitterly as he finally turned to face his mentor while still on the ladder.
"Richie, you can't let them get to you like this. They're the ones who are stupid. No, they're worse than stupid, they're just plain ignorant."
"Yeah, they are." Richie's head bobbed up and down in agreement.
"They really, really are. They think that I'm so stupid just because I don't talk as fast as they do or act all cool."
Richie's demeanor rapidly turned hostile. Victor had seen it before and knew he had to nip that transformation in the bud – otherwise he'd be sending the young man home early to cool off.
Victor smoothed his mustache a bit before he asked. "How about we tackle that candy bar a little early today?"
"No, no, Victor, I'm okay. I just got a little mad. I'm sorry. I need to do my work."
Victor studied Richie's open, apologetic face for a long while, then patted Richie's arm as a sign of his approval.
"Okay, Richie, let's get back to work then. If we don't finish in here soon, both of us might be looking for a new job anyway. I'm too danged old to learn a new job like working on those fancy-schmancy computer gizmos."
Smiling widely, Richie nodded his head without looking back, then he turned to resume his work. "I know how to use a computer, Victor. They taught us how to use them at my school."
"Well, one of us is more than enough in my book, kiddo. See, you're already smarter than me. Can't stand even looking at 'em."
Victor shivered dramatically. Even though Richie wasn't looking at him, he knew Richie would be able to hear the drama in his voice. He glanced over at Richie as he went back to work himself, relieved that Richie's dark mood had passed.
Poor kid. He's just smart enough to know he's not smart enough. If I'd found those jerks...
Interrupting his thoughts, Victor saw one of the canisters jiggle a bit on the shelf and he said, "Be careful of those canisters, son. Who knows what the heck is in those things. They bring 'em in here after some big drug bust and have to keep 'em as evidence. Everyone forgets about 'em, except us. And why? 'Cause we're the ones who have to dust 'em, that's why!" Victor said, beginning one of his long tirades as he finished the window and moved to the desk beside Richie.
Victor knew that most of the precinct employees shied away from his lengthy rants. Lord knows, he didn't blame them, but Richie never seemed to mind. That kid was always happy to be around him like some puppy dog around a beloved master.
Maybe, it was because Victor always treated Richie like a normal person. It seemed like Richie didn't care what Victor wanted to talk about, just as long as he could be around him.
Victor was still lamenting about the life's inequities when, without warning, Richie lost his balance. Grabbing at the containers as he tried to find a firm hand hold, he and the canisters went tumbling to the ground. Canisters went bouncing against the shelving, the ladder and Richie, some of them opening up, spilling their contents all over himself and his supervisor down below him.
The older man, who was nearing retirement age, was taken by surprise by the sudden collision and fell to the ground hard as Richie and the still draining canisters landed on top of him.
Other items from the nearby desk fell to the floor around them, along with books, files, and a small desk lamp. The smell from the assortment of chemicals that had spilled caused Richie to gag.
The younger man recovered faster than Victor did though, getting to his knees, his arms waving in animated panic over the mess he had inadvertently created and over the possible harm he had caused to Victor.
"Victor? Victor! Are you okay?" Richie went to help him up.
Victor had more serious issues to deal with. He clutched at his chest and gasped. "It's my heart, Richie... Need my pills."
"Your heart pills? Okay, okay, I'll get them, Victor. Where are they?" he asked in a rush, remembering how sick his mother got if he took too long to bring them to her when her heart was acting up.
"My–my pocket," he whispered, his coloring rapidly turning gray.
"Okay, I'll get them," Richie said, but as he moved forward on the slick floor, his foot slipped out from underneath him and he went careening back down to the tiled floor, falling backward landing away from Victor, right on top of the desk lamp still plugged into the wall socket.
The light bulb shattered. An exposed wire came in contact with Richie's wet clothing, causing an electrical surge to pass through his body.
Richie cried out in surprise and pain, his muscles instantly rigid, then spasming uncontrollably. Victor realized what was happening and grabbed the wooden wide-bottomed broom near his arm.
Using it, along with the last of his strength, he caught the edge of the electrical cord and yanked the cord from free from the wall socket. The action released Richie from the deadly electrical current and death.
Dropping the broom handle, Victor again clutched at his chest as the crushing weight of his heart attack nearly incapacitated him. All he could do was stare at Richie, whose face was only about a foot from his and pray that he had acted quickly enough to spare the young's man life.
Having survived two previous heart attacks, he knew this one was much more serious than the others and he was pretty sure he wasn't going to survive it.
oOoOoOoOo
All Victor could do was stare at Richie, knowing his face was etched in pain. Though, Ritchie's muscles were still twitching violently and he was unable to speak, he did manage to flop one arm over towards Victor. His hand landed atop Victor's head and he rubbed his fingers across Victor's forehead, as if wanting him to know he was there for him.
Victor tried to smile bravely, but he knew he had failed. He could feel himself slipping away. He was in his final moments of life; now, his tears of pain became tears of remorse over leaving behind his wife of forty-nine years, their seven children, and twelve grandchildren.
Suddenly, Victor's eyes widened not in fear of his impending death, but because of a strange tingling sensation coming from Richie's hand where it lay on his forehead. As he glanced toward Richie, he saw shock and confusion on the younger man's face as well. Instead of going away, the sensation simply grew in intensity and tone.
And then, the contact became painful, more painful than the crushing pain of his chest. The two men looked wide-eyed at each other in a shared bewilderment as the process continued to gain momentum.
Richie's hand that was still touching Victor's head went rigid again from the contact, just as surely as if he had grabbed a handful of exposed electrical wires.
Victor drew his last breath and exhaled slowly. His death rale was something much longer and slower than Richie would have ever imagined involved in dying, had he been paying attention to it, but Richie was lost in a new world of facts, information and wisdom.
In a word, knowledge. Pure and unadulterated knowledge. His mind was besieged by the flow of knowledge from Victor's mind to his. Suddenly, he understood a multitude of truths that seemed to have escaped him his whole life.
Minutes later, as Richie became cognizant of the world around him, his gaze focused on Victor and his unmoving eyes. Placing a hand on Victor's chest, he knew the old man was gone. Somehow, in Victor's loss of life, Richie had gained something extraordinary.
Though, his muscles still quivered as an aftereffect of his electrical shock, he sighed and tried to start crawling towards the door.
oOoOoOoOo