Author Note/Summary: This entire story is from Lindsay's point of view of the events around and during episode 02.11 'We Don't Work Together Anymore'. I thought it might be a bit of fun to try and get inside her head for a bit. This was going to be a one shot but the writing is getting a bit away from me so it might be more of a three or four shot. Comments/reviews are welcomed, it has been a while since I've tried writing in second person like this. I hope you enjoy.
You stand in your apartment in the crisp dark blue suit and white shirt. It is the only suit you own, the PD wasn't big on wearing suits, they had dress uniforms for formal occasions and jeans were much more appropriate for the rough and dirty work Intelligence got into. You make a mental note to go shopping after shift and you walk out the door.
You arrive at headquarters, the building is new, everything is big and shiny, sterile looking. Nothing like district 21, that building was old and a little run down, you never noticed it while you were there but you being to think of it as homey and inviting. There is nothing homey and inviting about the feds building.
You show your paperwork to the guard managing the entrance. He pulls your ID from a locked draw behind the desk, hands it to you and tells you where to go. You swipe into the building and make your way to the elevators. Your task force is based on the twelfth floor. On the ride up you feel yourself start to get nervous, your heart rate increases but thankfully your hands stay dry. You meet up with your boss Agent Lang; he's still annoyed at you for being late, not late today but late in general. You were supposed to start over a week ago but you couldn't leave Intelligence until you knew Burgess was okay.
He briefs you on the case you'll be working, busting up a major player in the Zeta Cartel. The idea of this excites you, if the taskforce is successful more drugs and money will be pulled off the street in a day, then Intelligence had pulled off all year. You smile to yourself, 'this was the right move' you think. He leads you into the briefing room, your mouth drops at the size of it, at the technology on display. The end wall is almost entirely covered in television screens, there are a dozen desks with computers at them and more seats arranged lecture style. The room is full of Agents, both analysts and SWAT.
"It's a beautiful day for a raid," Lang says as he comes to stand in front of the taskforce. They break into a round of applause and you feel a little vomit in your mouth. They shouldn't be clapping, you think, they haven't done anything yet, all the research is in, the plan is set but nothing has been achieved.
The first piece of doubt crosses your mind and you ask yourself again, 'have I made the right decision?'
Lang doesn't see your doubt; he begins to brief the taskforce. As the briefing goes on you can feel an excitement building in the air, an energy you've never felt before, everyone is itching to move, to make the bust, and bring Mendoza down. For everyone else this is the climax to two months of surveillance and research, it's like you've walked into the party the moment the cake has been brought out. You've arrived just as the action is about to pop.
After the briefing Lang takes you to meet your CI Kylie. Kylie is scared, you see her hands shaking as you go over the details once more, she wants out but she'd afraid Mendoza is going to find out.
"If Damien finds out I'm as good as dead," she says. You can see the fear in her eyes, you want to reach out and touch her, squeeze her hand and tell her it will work but you know those things aren't done in the taskforce. You don't go holding hands with your CIs. Instead you try and comfort her with words, go over what is going to happen again, reassure her Damien won't know a thing and tomorrow it will all be over. She seems to calm a little but the fear doesn't go away, you're not surprised. You can relate to her feelings, years ago that was you, you were the CI sitting at the table praying the bust would go right and knowing if it didn't it would be your head on the chopping block.
"If anything happens text the number we gave you," you tell her and you offer a sympathetic smile. She just looks back at you scared. "It's time," you say and you both stand up together, Kylie heads for the exit and you go off to find Lang.
Standing in the change rooms you're the only woman in a room full of men. This doesn't surprise you, you've spent most of your career as the only woman in the room full of men. You pull out your new uniform, black pants, black shirt, black boots, black tactical vest, and black helmet. 'Good thing I can rock black,' you think to yourself and you take off your suit jacket and begin to lift your shirt. The room is full of a casual chatter but as your shirt comes up you hear someone wolf whistle. You freeze and turn to the men around you, the room has gone silent, everyone is staring at you waiting to see how you react.
"Seriously?" you say eyeing off the men in the room, looking for the one who whistled, "I haven't heard that shit since the academy. Grow up," then you turn back to the task at hand, changing for the raid. For the second time that morning you ask yourself 'have I made the right decision?' You've always been used to working in a men's club, but this place is different, this isn't a men's club, it's a boys club and you're not invited. You expected more from the feds.
When you're changed you go and find Lang, he leads you through to another locker room. He's telling you about all the equipment you're about to be issued, all the technology the taskforce has at its disposal, helmet cams, radio communication, everything you've always dreamed of having, wished the Chicago PD had money to invest in, it makes everyone safer, holds everyone accountable. You've read all about it, Lang's words don't surprise, not until he says "Your weapon," and then starts telling you all about the Glock 45 every agent carries. He's rattling off a lot of impressive specs, the 45 is a good weapon but it's not your weapon.
"No my 19 goes with me everywhere," you say placing a protective hand over your 19. Your 19 has been with you for years, it's saved your life on more than one occasion and fits your hand just right. You know how your 19 works, you could hit anything with your 19 but Lang is looking down at you, telling you to take the 45. Reluctantly you unclip your 19 and take the 45, you're pissed off, angry and uncomfortable. The 45 is bigger than your 19, heavier, it doesn't sit right on your hip, it feels wrong and you hope you don't have to use it. The idea of drawing a gun you've never fired makes you uncomfortable, you don't know how it handles, how it and you will react when you pull the trigger. For the third time that morning you ask yourself 'have I made the right decision?'
Driving over to the raid everything is slick, professional, completely by the book, no one speaks unless spoken to, no one asks a question unless they need to know the answer. As you pull up everyone slides out the cars, moves into position, everyone knows their place; everyone knows where they belong, what their job is. You move into the sheet metal place through the side door, everything goes smoothly, everything is going to plan until you reach the back, the loading docks are empty, Mendoza isn't there and neither is Kylie, her handbag is still sitting on the chair by her desk. 'She must have tipped Mendoza off,' you think feeling both fear and anger for her. Mendoza is a bad guy, tipping him off wouldn't have made her safer; it would have only made the situation more dangerous.
Driving back to headquarters everyone is quiet; there is a sombre angry feeling to the air. Lang is pissed off, two months of investigation is over. You're already trying to work out what the next move is. When you get back to the office, Castillo the other agent you're working with starts rattling off, excuses, reasons why it all went belly up, this was his mistake, at the same time he starts listing possible moves, every one of his suggestions is valid but he shoots them all down himself as soon as he says them, 'covering his own arse' you think. He wants to point out the holes in his suggestions in case they don't work. Lang orders homeland security be called and you follow him back to his office.
"Kylie played us," he says but that doesn't sit right with you. You saw how scared she looked, how much she longed for this to all be over, that doesn't fit with her tipping Mendoza off. Something is missing you think but you don't know what. You ask Lang about Kylie, about what he really knows about her. He starts rattling off stuff about Kylie, she was brought in for small drug charges, none of it makes sense to you.
Finally he stops long enough for you to speak, you've been thinking hard about what the next move should be. You don't think Mendoza has left the city, you think he's still here, hiding somewhere. You know what you want to do; you've wanted to suggest it since the raid went south. Lang suggests getting the fugitive apprehension unit on the line, you gulp, step forward, sit down. You carefully plan your words, you don't want to bag another unit but you know they're not the best for the job; you lay your argument out and finish with what you want.
"Let me call my old unit," you say.
Sitting somewhere alone, quiet you pull out your phone, you dial Hank's number. 'He'll go for it,' you think to yourself but the slightest bit of doubt crosses your mind as you wait for him to answer. When he finally answers you can hear the smile in his voice, he asks you how you are, you're grateful for the small talk, you wish you could sit and talk to him about everything that has happened, about all the moments of doubt and second guessing which have already crossed your mind today but you don't have time. You get straight to the point, you ask for his help.
"You sure?" he asks you down the line. Doubt crosses your mind again, you think he doesn't want to help but that's not the case. He says they'll come, they'll be right over and you feel relief, you're looking forward to seeing familiar faces.
You meet Intelligence in the lobby, you hug every single one of them as you greet them.
"Are you okay?" Hank asks you.
"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just this case," you say but he gives you a look, he can see right through you, he knows you're not fine.
You arrange for their visitors passes and lead them up to the twelfth floor. Adam makes a joke about everything being shiny. Jay makes a comment about the suit you're wearing. You smile and give him a gentle punch in the shoulder but he can see through it too. You lead them to the briefing room where everyone is waiting. Kevin makes a comment about the technology, he's impressed, you don't say anything. You indicate to a group of chairs to the side of the front. Jay and Adam sit down but everyone else remains standing. You take your position at the front; you stand with Lang and begin briefing your unit on the case. You don't realise your slip of thought until it becomes a slip of the tongue.
"That's when our unit…your unit, sorry, comes in."
Jay flashes you a smirk, you can feel your face going red but you push on, you finish the briefing without another slip of the tongue. It seems to go well but then Intelligence start asking questions, you can feel Lang get annoyed, he doesn't like it when his methods are questions but keeps it together, in front of everyone he's direct, he even agrees to let Intelligence work out of their own shop. As everyone leaves Hank comes up and shakes your hand, he holds it half a second longer than necessary, he gives you a knowing look like he knows exactly what you're feeling.
"It was nice to see you," Jay says on the way out, you give him a smile and watch them walk out. A part of you wishes you were going with them. Then Lang comes up to you.
"Working with your old unit, there's no problems right?" he asks, you can hear the threatening tone in his voice.
"No, no" you say shaking your head, "we're a family."
You can tell that wasn't the response Lang was expecting. "As long as they understand, they work for us now," he says but you can feel the inflection in his tone, it's not just Intelligence he's talking to. He's pushing the point, 'you work for me now'.
"Got it," you say, and you walk out the room, go back to your desk and sit down. You begin to pore over the files again, there is something missing. None of this feels quite right to you, people walk past you as you work but no one says hello. This place isn't a family, it feels more like a machine and you're just another cog keeping it turning. For the fourth time today you ask yourself, 'have I made the right decision?'