Ironside AU/WHI: All in a Day's Work – What if…?
Quote by Cy Chermak, found at "Reveal Shot", which is authored by David B. Wilkerson:
Chermak: "Ed McBain/Evan... chose to do a television episode … I believe the show was written for Raymond. He said he was tired and needed a rest... We re-did it for Barbara instead..."
What would the episode originally have been like? I have no idea. Some scenes would work about the same way as with Eve, others would have been different. I'm only interested in the latter. Here are a few ideas about them.
Disclaimer: The original Ironside episode "All in a Day's Work" is not my property and neither are the characters in this story; I'm just playing around with them!
Chapter 1
"He's dead," stated Sgt. Brown, appalled. He looked up to Ironside and Eve and saw his feelings mirrored on their faces. Gently he pulled the stocking mask up and over the dead man's head. A very, very young face appeared.
Shocked, Ironside stared at the boy. He had not wanted to kill him, not at all, although he had shot at Eve Whitfield. The fleeing intruder had stumbled over a barrel, causing the bullet to hit him deadly instead of just stopping him.
This didn't change the fact that Ironside had killed him after all.
Eve was rattled too. Only a few moments ago they'd had such a good time together, and now a man was dead. It could have been her, but for the Chief's fast reaction. A look into his closed face prevented her from thanking him for saving her life. He would not have appreciated it right now.
The sound of a siren approached. Soon the scene was brightly lit by spotlights and crowded with policemen and gawkers.
It looked like any other crime scene – but it wasn't. Eve and Ed did their job talking to the only witness, the jeweler, and preserving any clues. Mark was the silent observer, as usual. Ironside barked his orders. But he sat in his wheelchair like petrified, withdrawn, his facial expression unreadable, and even for his friends, who knew how gruff he could be, his voice sounded unnaturally grim.
He had shot a kid. He kept telling himself that it had been an accident, he had only wanted to defend Eve, but he could not convince himself.
His friends suffered with him. Ed kept quiet, as he did so often, helplessly, not finding the right words. Eve finally plucked up courage, "Chief, please remember that he shot first. My life was at stake."
"But he was so young!"
Mark countered, "Nobody with a gun is young! You give a kid an equalizer and he ages pretty fast."
Ironside fell silent. More than ever he felt imprisoned in a crippled body, glued to a wheelchair he hated with all his heart. He couldn't even bend down and examine the body himself, look for evidence explaining what had happened...
After what seemed a very long time Mark took the initiative. "Chief, there's nothing you can do here. We should go home."
Ironside wanted to shake his head. Every fiber of his body wanted to stay, as if – as long as he was at the scene - he could maybe reverse the timeline and undo what had happened.
He didn't though. For one thing Mark was right. As a matter of fact there was no reason to remain here. For another he was simply unable to move his head. His body had been immobilized for too long, now it seemed to be cramped. Distracted from the horrible facts for a moment he concentrated on the small movement, and he managed, but it caused a great deal of pain.
Did Mark notice it? At any rate he pushed the wheelchair towards the paddy wagon without awaiting an answer. They were the last ones to leave the crime scene.
Mrs. Matling, Billy's mother, hadn't known that it had been Ironside who had shot her son. He would have her voice in his ear for as long as he lived: "I curse the one who killed him!"
Yes, Ironside already felt cursed. The shadow of a seventeen-year-old had fallen over his life, leaving it dark and grey. The terrible pain in his back, which had been bothering him since the night of Billy's death, was not nearly an adequate punishment, he thought in a spell of depression.
He pulled himself together. This was nonsense, of course; Matling had been armed and dangerous. He'd had to shoot him to save Eve's life.
It didn't help. The idea was stronger, the pain was not adequate...
His staff had to bear the consequences. He bullied them around, ranted at them at every opportunity and was impossible to please. In his heart he berated himself and struggled to stay calm – without any success.
His friends knew him well enough to understand. They were unhappy and they suffered with him; they didn't hold it against him.
One day when they were alone, Eve, who'd never had to kill in the line of duty, asked anxiously, "He'll get over it, won't he, Ed?"
Ed shook his head, his low voice full of concern. "Eve, you don't ever get over it. You adjust to it."
Meanwhile Ironside went to talk to Nancy Lewin, Billy's girlfriend, 10 years his senior.
Her grief was as heartbreaking as his mother's, and she saw Billy as a kind, caring soul. His bullet had destroyed the joy of her life.
The picture of the porcelain-like doll would be burnt into his soul forever.
According to the people he had not only shot a seventeen-year-old, but a model youth. Within a few days the newspapers would get the story and blow it up: "San Francisco's former Chief of Detectives becomes trigger-happy. Nobody can be safe anymore!"
Normally Ironside wouldn't have cared at all about the newspapers, but in this case he needed to be sure that they were wrong.
Was it the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth? It really didn't ring true. At the very least Matling had robbed a jewelry store. Ironside could not stop looking for evidence that he had not been the model youth people wanted him to be.
Mr. Raynold had been Billy's boss. There were rather steep stairs to go up to his office. Usually Ironside managed to surmount such obstacles. His handicap was there all right, but he fought for his independence and did on his own whatever was possible, and with his strong arms and his courage he was capable of doing things people thought were not possible.
Now everything was different. He felt stiff and insecure. He should have called for help, but his pride did not allow him to bother anybody. Turning all his fury into energy he pulled himself up the stairs, almost pulling the handrail off the wall.
Raynold confirmed Nancy Lewin's picture of a perfect young man, although accentuating less his gentle side and more what a good and ambitious worker he had been.
When Ironside wanted to know if Billy had ever asked for more money than his boss could pay him he rubbed salt into Ironside's wound. "You mean like the kind of money he could make with a jewelry store robbery, is that what you mean? You don't fool me for a minute. I read the papers. I know who killed little Billy. Billy was a good kid. And you got no right goin' round shootin' good kids!"
Ironside turned around and wheeled out. Too late he remembered his trouble with the steep stairs. Doubt, grief and an indefinable feeling of guilt made him indifferent, even careless. His momentum threw him down the steps and he landed hard on the ground.
This accident was definitely too much for his already hurting back. It took all his self-control not to cry out.
Mark, who had been waiting in the paddy wagon, saw him fall and ran over. Not sure about how badly his boss was injured he called an ambulance. Very carefully Ironside was taken to St. Mary's.
Faithfully his friends called St. Mary's, but every time there was a young nurse who told them that Mr. Ironside could not have any visitors.
Ed, Eve and Mark felt helpless and very worried. Had his accident done some severe damage to him? He had been like knotted since that unfortunate day. Was he still in too much pain to see them? Had he broken down under the pressure? Had the mental exhaustion been too much? Had he fallen into a depression? It sounded very unlikely, Ironside was such a strong man!
Finally Ed overcame his natural diffidence and fought his way to the Chief's room. He hoped that he would be able to distract him by asking for his help.
Actually they had found out that their main suspect was John Harry Keswick, and that he would be playing cards at the Wiggly Arms Hotel, room 312, that very night.
Ed would ask Ironside about how they should proceed. Having a job to do would maybe set his energy free.
A young woman – probably the nurse in charge of the Chief's care – opened his door. "I can't let you..."
Yet a determined Sergeant just smiled at her mechanically. "Sorry, it's important," he said and stepped around her.
A look back at Ironside's face convinced her that he would probably handle this situation his way... anyway.
Later on, Ed could not have said what exactly had gone wrong, but it must have gone very wrong, otherwise the Chief would not have blinked.
When Brown had started to explain to him what they had found out, Ironside had struggled to pull his body up. Ed had hurried to help him the way he had seen Mark do it. Had he made a wrong movement, or was he just not strong enough? He didn't know. At any rate the movement must have caused terrible pain to the patient. Ironside suppressed a cry, but his groan cut through Ed's soul. He let go, and this was probably wrong again. "Sorry, Sir...!"
"I don't need your flaming help!" shouted Ironside, and Ed left, upset.