(Disclaimer: I've accepted the fact that they're not mine, with some serious help from my shrink. Dammit, Dick – you can stop gloating over there, ya know!)
(A/n: My second drabble. I thought I'd better warn you – there is implied character death in this one. Just in case you don't like reading that. )
I knew it the second I walked into the church. This was something she would have protested, if she still had a voice.
This was the one thing she didn't want. Glory. She hated being labeled a hero, even though she was one, to so many people. She'd put her own ass on the line for a victim and see it as nothing.
We traded a look and then she was gone, that afternoon. Back on the street again.
And then we got the phone call. The call every sane cop dreads.
Funny how things like that happen.
Real funny.