The Band
By T.S. Hemmings
a/n: Set post-Loyalty, one-shot. Just a little thing I couldn't get out of my head... Read & Review at your leisure :)
summary: He was fired, right? They were both gone and this time, for good. But then why were they calling him?
It was still way too early in the morning for him. He had barely slept last night and he couldn't believe his dumb luck that he was already awake again. Time and tide wait for no man, and apparently, neither do screeching cell phones.
He woke purely out of habit at the sound of it, it's familiar ring tone always on high volume and playing "London Calling." It was a great song and just loud enough to wake him from a deep sleep. Getting a phone call from 1PP has to be foolproof like that.
"Used to be," he mumbled as he ran his thick hands over his face. Maybe he could slap himself to wake up from this dream. Better yet, if it wasn't a dream, he could simply roll over and ignore it.
Unfortunately, he already hit the little green icon on the phone and put it to his ear, complete with the automatic rush of "Goren," into the phone. "Jesus," he thought, "How long have I been on automatic?"
Goren recognized the voice on the other end immediately. It was a voice from long ago and faraway. Said voice was probably not so long ago and faraway as the caller ID indicated.
James Carlin had been the closest thing to a friend that Goren had while in Narcotics. That was no small feat, even then. He backed Goren several times, both to the brass and to their fellow boys in blue. Carlin's natural charm and easy diplomacy made him a departmental darling and solidified his standing within the higher ranks. He even put in a good word with Deakins on Bobby's behalf. Bobby felt he owed Carlin, a fact he could easily acknowledge and feel no reluctance in doing so.
"So James is at 1PP now?" he thought. "Interesting." He was asking a huge favor though, all signs pointed north. It was 4:15 a.m. on a Tuesday and Carlin was calling from an NYPD mainline; yes, Carlin was mostly definitely cashing in his favor.
"Well, shit." That was all Bobby could think as he listened to Carlin's unnecessarily long story.
"Out with it, Carlin," he said. "You want us back, don't you? Eames and me, I mean."
"No, I don't prefer the foreplay, just say what you want. I already know, so cut the shit and just say it."
"I've always liked you, James. You've always done right by me, even when it wasn't, uh... easy. Fuck, I don't know what Eames will say though."
"I can try, but you've met her. You know her family. That whole clan is as stubborn as mules."
"I can't promise, but I'll try. Meet at 1PP by 8:30 a.m., right?"
"Right. Well, I'll be there and but I'll have to talk to Eames. No promises on that though, Carlin." He hung up with Carlin and laid back into bed.
"Ah, Eames," he sighed heavily into the darkened room.
Alex rolled over and smiled sleepily back at him.
"Let me guess, we're getting the band back together?"