A collection of one-shots, relatively plotless.
As is well known, own nothing pertaining to Wolf's realm.
Just Thinking….
Joseph Armando Fontana studied the item in his hands.
He was thinking, just thinking. That day Edward Green - Eddie in Joe's mind - had taken a bullet in the chest, Joe wished he'd been there between bullet and partner. That day Eddie was shot, Joe wished he'd get to the shooter first.
He was thinking, just thinking. McCoy could work his side of the street so long as the Irishman knew enough to leave him alone on his side. For Joe thought trivial things such as 'Miranda' and other 'afforded rights' would not, should not, could not apply to the weasel responsible for bringing the young man down. For Joe thought trivial things such as 'procedure' and 'regulation' and 'law' deserved to be 'forgotten' for a moment or two.
He was thinking, just thinking. Watching his partner's mother hold the hand lacking all feeling as machines fought for his life, Joe was thankful to not ever having become a parent. Watching his partner's supervisor calmly catch the Irish intruder up to speed, Joe was thankful to not ever having lost a partner, or having to shoulder the responsibility Van Buren did now.
He was thinking, just thinking. Maybe it was time to consider turning in badge and gun. If Eddie died, Joe would have his revenge, which in turn would demand resignation and punishment, none of which would even compare to-. No, Eddie was still breathing, still fighting. Joe would do the same.
He was thinking, just thinking. Maybe it was time to prepare for retirement, recalling Briscoe's reasoning for his departure. Leave before you've no life left to care about.
He was thinking, just thinking. There were many things to consider, there were many things to curse, many things to be thankful for. The day was not yet over, so it could end either way.