bringing little comfort. He had lost count of how many glasses he had gone through but
he estimated that it was probably no more than five; his body was just slightly warmer
than when he first walked in here.
He hadn't lost his touch, if that was even something to be thankful for.
Well, at least one thing in his cozy little life hadn't changed…
Roy delved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a badge; the numbers 1247 engraved
on the shield.
'Cole Phelps. Badge twelve forty-seven…'It had been three months since Cole died, but he swore it felt like it happened just
yesterday. Roy sipped at his drink idly as his thumb ran over the grooves in the engraved
metal. The leather the shield was pinned to was a little worn out from being soaked, the
edges frayed; but the shield hadn't tarnished. It gleamed earnestly with pride.
He still remembered when he met Cole on his first day in Traffic, all neat and tidy in his
yellow pinstriped suit that was far too modest for such a young man. Cole was one of the
few people he knew that still cared for three piece suits. And it made him wonder if the
blonde had unconsciously dressed in layers as if he was trying to hide something. Cole's
shining arrest record had piqued his interest and inspired him to do whatever he needed to
get Cole to move up and join him in Vice.
Cole was always calm, honest and painfully polite. Roy was curious about the inner
workings of the department's golden boy and had tried so hard to peel back those raw
layers of Cole's, anything to rouse a reaction or learn something new about him.
But it was futile; Cole wasn't willing to come out and play.
But, those rare instances when Cole opened up about his idea of righteousness, a little
tidbit or two about his past would slip out. Roy tried to never take those moments for
granted. He had wanted to befriend Cole, and more.
Roy had never wanted Cole to get involved with Monroe and his scheme.
When he learned about Cole's affair with that German broad he had been more
entertained than offended. It showed that Cole was human after all; he had desires and he
made mistakes just like anyone else. He kept Cole's secret safe for the longest time; it
wasn't really his business to know, anyway.
But then all that morphine was coming out of the woodworks and Cole was determined to
find the source and stop the dealings for good. Roy was satisfied with the two-bits they
caught that were distributing the syrettes but he followed Cole and did his job.
But he started putting the pieces together and realized that something bigger was behind
it and it was more than he or Cole could handle alone.
Roy knew that there were too many powerful people involved in the Suburban
Redevelopment Fund, and he knew that it was very possible for Cole to charge into the
mess and get himself killed.
So, to spare his partner's life, Roy divulged Cole's secret to the members behind the
scam and encouraged them to use it to their advantage. And they had; they were quick to
confront Cole about his affair and put on a show for the whole city – all so they could
save themselves from the scandal of their own affairs.
The affair was all over the papers and it was on everyone's lips.
In exchange for the information, Roy asked for Cole to be demoted to Arson so he could
still do some good for society, even if it wasn't glamorous or earned under more pleasant
circumstances.
Cole wouldn't be able to find the culprit if he wasn't working Vice cases; he was safe.
He had thought that that would be the end of it, but he should've known better.
Once the initial sting of his demotion had passed Cole was at it again.
Hell, he seemed even more anxious to get to the bottom of it all.
Roy tried to warn him, but it only added fuel to his fire and it soon spun out of control.
As soon as Monroe hired a handful of Mickey's men to hunt down Kelso and Fontaine
murdered Sheldon, the gloves came off and it became personal.
Roy felt a shiver run down his spine at the memory of meeting Cole and his new partner,
Herschel, at the crime scene. Sheldon had been killed for knowing the truth about
Fontaine, the housing scheme and the morphine. Once his body had been dumped, Roy
received a call that told him to take care of the investigation. A patrol officer had gotten
there first and called for backup; and Cole and Herschel had arrived there before he
could. The puncture mark on the kid's neck had the blonde convinced that Sheldon was
murdered, and rightfully so. Roy did his part and tried to tell the duo off, hoping that the
prospect of it being a Vice investigation would keep them off the trail. And he just had to
push the envelope by mocking Sheldon's death and piss his fellow Marine off.
God, he had never seen such hateful eyes in his life…
It was the first time Roy had seen Cole express such emotion.
Cole's eyes were usually calm, almost blank – haunted.
But on that day, his eyes burned with an unbridled fury that put the devil himself to
shame. Cole passionately recounted his friend's heroics and damned Roy for speaking
out of turn; threatened to blow his ass to kingdom come too if he fiddled with the crime
scene. Roy was taken aback by his former partner's change in personality, almost didn't
know how to respond.
To smile and smugly accuse Cole of going off the deep end was a pathetic attempt to ease
Cole's anger and discourage him from filling Roy with lead.
And after Cole turned to leave with Herschel, smiling and pleased with himself for
lashing out at Roy, something tugged at his chest. It hurt to see Cole so different from
who he used to be weeks beforehand; it terrified him that Cole was emboldened and he
was convinced that there was nothing that could stop him from discovering the truth.
Roy couldn't even help him.
That was the last time he saw Cole and it was left on a venomous note.
He never took the chance to make amends; not that Cole would've accepted it but he
would've at least felt better about how they left things. He never got to explain himself,
apologize or give a proper farewell. Roy had worked on a case the night Cole died; he
wandered home after drinking and passed out in bed.
If only he had listened to the damn dispatch over the radio that night…
The next morning, everyone in the department was solemn and it was a thick
awkwardness that made Roy feel more displaced than the days when he ran out of
cigarettes. Archie was the one who told him first; his body was filled with icy dread, the
room was so silent it was deafening. He didn't want to believe it; it just wasn't possible.
This was Cole!
Roy took the day off to sort it out; he was still in denial and even went as far as the Blue
Room to see that blonde's baby face sitting at one of the tables.
But when he got there, Elsa was absent.
He was gone, and it happened too easily.
He tried to go to work but who was he fooling?
After awhile, details about what happened that night slowly started spreading around.
Elsa had been kidnapped, Fontaine was murdered, the arsonist behind the house fires was
dead…
Herschel, in the few rare instances he bumped into him, had the most tired look in his
eye. Three days later, Cole's body was found and soon funeral arrangements were being
made. Bekowsky and Galloway were the ones who found him, and they didn't look right
to Roy when he saw them. As soon as the date was scheduled, everyone was quick to
wrap things up in a nice little package and send it on its way.
The story that was told to the papers was that Cole, Herschel and Kelso went to the
sewers to rescue Elsa and he had been swept away by the current.
He died a hero's death.
That was the clean version, the safe version; and most people were happy with it.
Roy volunteered – insisted, really – that he give Cole's eulogy at the funeral.
After everything that had happened, the ruin that befell his favorite partner, the gold-
plated lies that appeased the blissfully unaware and the half-justice in the end, Cole
deserved a few kind words.
It was the least he could do to make it up to him.
The funeral, in his opinion, was rather small; Cole probably didn't have very many
friends in the Marines as he had assumed he would and he wasn't really close to many
officers in the LAPD.
Surprisingly, Cole's parents and any other extended family appeared to be missing…
Cole wasn't the easiest to relate to, but he was still a good man.
The funeral was solemn yet tense. People were sad to see Cole go but some seemed
anxious to have the funeral over and done with, probably because they all wanted to
move on with their lives.
He meant every word when he spoke at the service.
Elsa grew angry and publicly lashed out at him for insinuating that he and Cole were ever
'friends'. He was called a pig, and he deserved that and more.
Roy wanted to be a part of Cole's life but he knew he didn't deserve the opportunity.
After the funeral, everyone tried to find their new sense of normalcy.
He still wore his suit and drove his car with a sense of pride; he had to, or else everyone
would've seen the cracks in his ideal façade. The façade that let others know that he was
only doing his job and he was still the same asshole everyone loved to hate.
They can't see him go soft.
A lot of good that did, though, he's been coming to this bar every week to lick his
wounds. Wounds he didn't deserve to have.
Roy brushed his thumb over a star on the badge, frowning at the memento.
Almost a year, nearly a whole year to run one man's life into the ground and another left
in pieces. Cole was a good, honest cop and he just didn't deserve to be damned because
of one mistake. All that, and Roy was left with his partner's badge that he had stolen
from his box of personal effects at the morgue and kept it close while he nursed his
drinks. It was pathetic, but it wasn't like anyone was going to miss it.
Cole had been taken from him, so it was only fair to get a piece of him back.
Roy took another mouthful of scotch, reminding himself that he should probably leave
soon. He knew that if he had too much more he would wind up at the bridge again.
Nights when the guilt ate at him made him drive there in the worst stupor and he really
thought about jumping right in and ending it. But before he could even climb over the
railing, something stopped him.
The air would feel colder, there was a tightness in his chest and the hollow silence
welcomed the shame that assaulted him. He would then turn around, drive home and
forget about it the next day.
It was too good for him, anyway.
Roy grumbled as he rubbed his face, pocketing the badge and turning on the stool to
stand. As he habitually pulled on the lapels of his jacket to straighten up, Roy's gaze
wandered over the crowd in the bar, lingering on a man with blonde hair.
His heart skipped a beat as he focused more on the young man.
Save for the narrower nose, the dark blue eyes and the white polo shirt, this guy looked
similar to Cole. Then again, a lot of the blondes he's picked up have been looking like the
golden boy lately…
He instantly crushed whatever reserved nagging his conscience tried to invoke in him,
walking across the room purposefully with the intention of coaxing the blonde into his
bed weighing on his mind. No matter how petty or shameful the deed was, Roy knew that
it was enough to ease his guilt and give him a bit of comfort during the harshest nights;
which was reason enough for him to keep at it.
If this was his punishment, he was willing to put up with it.
But he hoped that whatever was at work in dealing his treatment was merciful enough to
throw him a bone once in awhile to help cushion the blows.
This was all he could do to avoid going insane. It was better than counting the years he
had left before he had the possibility to see Cole again.
+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+.
I wrote this back on March 31st of this year as a spur of the moment; the idea came to me
as quickly as the angsty RoyxCole feelings did. I was always curious about what Roy
thought and felt after receiving the news about Cole's death and how he would've
handled it. I'm sure a lot of people think that his eulogy at Cole's funeral was bullshit and
he probably never gave a damn about Cole, and part of me still feels that way – but
another part of me wonders if he did care.
I know that there's some fantastic post-funeral art out there, and I'm happy to contribute!
Lin