Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, and no profit is made from these stories. (But I do have fun writing them! : )
Mike was stunned.
He couldn't believe that his career as a Manhattan homicide detective was suddenly over. That he would never work in the 27th Precinct again - except maybe as a lowly beat cop, many years down the road. That he would never again work a case with Lennie Briscoe. He didn't much care for Lennie after Phil was transferred, but in the following years he'd grown to love and respect the older, world-weary detective.
And it was one punch delivered to the face of a councilman that bought him his ticket to a beat on Staten Island. He couldn't understand why he was being demoted for something as stupid as this. If anything, he should have been out the door - even lost his badge - for what he did to the guy who shot Max. Even if it was justified, it was still way over the line.
Actually, that was wrong. He did understand why he was now on his way to Staten Island. Because the NYPD was still scared as hell of anything even remotely related to gays. And slugging a homophobic councilman was definitely bad for public relations. The year was 1995, but it might as well have been 1955 for their brand of thinking.
And now he was on his way up the stairs - he could only afford a walk-up, even on a detective's salary - with seven years' worth of desk contents in a cheap cardboard box.
The door was unlocked. Meaning that his lover - the person who'd shared his life for the last several years - was there. And he'd have to explain, even though he wanted nothing more than to shove the box in a closet and forget that his entire career ever happened, much less his departure. Then he could pretend that he'd never been anything but a lowly beat cop on Staten Island.
The surprise was evident on his lover's face. They exchanged glances.
Mike resisted the embrace - he thought of it as pity. And that was one thing he didn't want. Or need, for that matter. But then he was faced with those eyes, those clear blue eyes in which he often thought he could drown - and he gave in.
"It's over, Ben," he said. "We're both in exile now."
finis