The Unnatural

Disclaimer - Own nothing from Wolf's world or Carter's creation. Story inspired by the LO100 X-Files title challenge. Title chosen from a season 6 episode of the same name.

Lennie Briscoe balanced two dogs, two bags of chips and a drink in his hands as he made his way from the vendor's cart to the bench where his partner sat. This was one of the few times they could actually sit down for a quick meal.

"There ain't nothin' natural about hot dogs, Lennie," Ed Green said while making a face, hand held out for the chips instead.

"This isn't a hot dog, Ed. As unnatural as it sounds, that guy over there said it's a tofu-psuedo-turkey-something dog - I think. Just try it, will ya?"

Ed shook his head. "You first."

Lennie sighed, setting the remaining food on the bench space between them. "For the record, I got us each one of these things."

Biting into it hungrily, Lennie did his best to keep his expression as neutral as possible. To admit that he could actually like something like this wasn't something he'd admit to his vegetarian-believing partner just yet. However, it wasn't half bad.

"Happy," Lennie asked once the remainder of the bite swallowed. He washed it down with a cola for good measure.

Ed kept an eye on him as he picked up his lunch. "I'm still waitin' to see if you turn green, man."

"I do that and you'll confuse me for one of those 'little green men' and I don't want that to happen, pal." He pointed at Ed with his soda. "Just try it, huh?"

Lennie continued eating his 'pseudo dog' while Ed hesitantly took a bite of his own. It was amusing watching the young man try something new. Of course, the 'serious' range of expressions on his face reminded Lennie of his daughters' faces whenever they were given a new strained food as babies.

"Well?"

Ed reached for his bottle of water he bought earlier. "Doubt they sell these at the stadium."

Lennie's eyes widened. "Well, if you want to talk about baseball, I've got a game for you!"

Ed laughed just as his beeper went off. Frowning at the message, he said, "Lieu wants us back at the house. Thanks for lunch, man."

Lennie waved him off. "You eat; I'll drive."

--

When they finally found an end to the long workday, the two detectives made their way to a bar to unwind.

Their orders placed, a meal made up of various appetizers and a couple of beers - root for Lennie, dark for Ed, the conversation picked up where it left off.

"So, what's so great about this game, Lennie? Or were you talking about baseball in general?"

Lennie took a long drink of his soda before he began. "Well, it was a game my uncle took me to-."

"The same one with the liquor shop, the one who told you to keep the forgotten change from that customer," Ed asked.

"The one and the same," Lennie said, amused that that particular story would be remembered. "Anyway, we were out in New Mexico and he took me to a game."

Ed snorted. "Something wrong with the Yankees or Mets back then?"

"Ha ha, smart one. This was a game we'd never have seen in the stadium - part of the Negro Ball League, out-of-the-way fields, word of mouth, that sorta thing. Anyway, my uncle found a game featuring this team called the Roswell Grays."

Ed laughed. "You've got to be kiddin' me, man. The Roswell Grays? What was that before or after the saucer-?"

"Look it up in your science textbook later, Einstein." Lennie reached for the barbeque wings first. "There was this player that would have been a great teammate of Jackie Robinson's. I remember my Uncle Phil telling me that this guy had a great chance of being the one to break the barrier in the American League."

Ed's eyes widened. "You saw Larry Doby of the Indians? Lennie-!"

"Same year, wrong guy." Lennie pushed the mozzarella sticks Ed's way. "Eat something to improve your hearing."

He waited until Ed did eat a bite or two of something - something that Lennie wasn't brave enough to help eat just yet. "May I continue or are you gonna keep interrupting me?" Ed nodded then shook his head. "Good. Now, like I was saying this guy had potential.

"Josh Exley was his name. Watching him in that game was the most beautiful, graceful thing I've ever seen in terms of that sport. Sixty-one homeruns that year and enough stolen bases to put him in the record books."

Ed listened intently as Lennie continued giving vivid details about that memorable game.

"There's nothing natural about today's ball players, Ed. Well, maybe that Griffey kid and a handful of others, but, most of these others…How many of them play the sport for the love of the game, huh? Natural-born athletes like that are few and far between. It's like they're a gift from the stars and not as appreciated as they should be."

Ed refilled both of their glasses with the remaining root beer. "So, no chance of you going to another game soon?"

Lennie smiled, hearing the disappointment in his partner's voice. "Hey, I still made a date to go to a game every now and then with Cathy, when she was in the mood." He stalled by emptying out half of his glass. "I dunno, Ed. If you wanna go, I'm game, even if it's just an inter-mural, college, high school or little league game. I'll promise not to 'coach' or 'ump' from the bleachers, too."

"Even if it's heckling players making millions," Ed asked, a smile on his face.

Lennie laughed. "Even if it's Brewster's Team," he said, and then added, "unless they deserve it."

"Naturally," Ed said.

(fin)