A/N: This incorporates scenes from Corrosive, chapters "Hurricane: Part Six" and "Amid the Wreckage". In this AU, all the windows to the interview rooms have one-way glass. Also, the discipline procedures in this chapter are based only very loosely on actual NYPD procedures. "MOS" means "Member of the Service," an officer of the NYCPD.
Interview Room One
Manhattan SVU
11 July
This place really is a fishbowl... never seems that way when I'm in here questioning someone... then my mind is on that person and their answers to my questions... I'm the cop, not the perp....
Too keyed up to sit quietly, John Munch was taking laps around the table. As he passed the window facing the squadroom, he paused to peer at the room reflecting back at him in the one-way glass.
This didn't go the way I planned....
What should have been Otten's coup de grace, the death blow to her efforts to force him into retirement, had ended with Howie gasping for air and Couch clutching his nose just as Captain Cragen arrived at the squadroom.
I still could have brought it off... all I had to do was come up with a good explanation....
Cragen had ignored both him and Otten to check on the two injured detectives.
Something like 'It's only a simple misunderstanding'... 'A little rough-housing that got out of hand'... "Sorry, Don—I was helping Howie with some spilled coffee'....
When the captain handed Couch his own handkerchief to stem the nasal bleeding. Otten tried to speak; Cragen cut her off with a cold glare.
Then she started to shiver, which made her look even more guilty... for myself, I stood there calmly, looking completely harmless... I blended in with the crowd... damn hard to do with everyone staring at me....
After he was sure no one needed medical attention, Cragen had asked again what had happened.
I glanced at Otten to see if she was going to try an excuse... stupid, stupid thing to do... I should have ignored her and jumped in before Sue said...
"They were going for their weapons."
At Lynde's words, a collective hiss of breath had sucked into every throat around Munch.
No, we weren't... at least, I wasn't... maybe Otten was... wouldn't put it past her....
Otten's head had snapped around to face Sue, who was standing red-faced and furious at the center of everyone's attention. Cragen held up a hand, palm toward her, to silence her protest.
"You'll get your turn later, Otten. Lynde, are you certain?"
"That's where their hands were going," Sue said, her voice firm, her head held high. "Right to their shoulder holsters. They were arguing then they both jumped to their feet and went for their weapons. That's why I yelled for someone to stop them."
That's not true... I just wanted to smash Otten's face for calling me a rat, for saying I'd help children be dragged off and slaughtered....
John jerked away from the window and stomped away, too angry to pay attention to clearance room. His foot struck the table leg, sending a bolt of agony through his ankle and up his shin. John skipped a step and stumbled against the table.
"Damn it! Damn it to hell!"
Officer Maddox, a pear-shaped officer two months away from his thirty years and retirement, made no move to help from his position by the door. John shot him an evil glare before resuming his circuit around the room.
Fine—let me hobble around on a broken foot... useless fool....
He completed the lap, breezing past Maddox to show how unnecessary the officer's unoffered help was.
No one in their right mind would set Jerry Maddox to guard anyone dangerous... now Smoot, she's a real Amazon—crack shot, Taser-certified... Cragen has her watching Otten in Interview Two... he must know she's the instigator, not me... if he had let me explain instead of putting me under Maddox's not-so watchful eye, this would all be over... I'd be back at my desk... Otten would be on her way out the door....
At Cragen's command, Maddox had stepped forward and placed his hand near John's right elbow. He then had tipped his head in the direction of the interview room.
He acted like I was contagious....
Munch had spun on his heel and headed for the front of the squadroom. Behind him, he heard Cragen asking if anyone else had witnessed the attacks.
Attacks? Hitting Howie was an accident... an accident....
Whatever answer Cragen had received was cut off by the door closing behind Munch.
I didn't mean to hit Howie—it's not my fault he got in the way....
John stopped before the window to Cragen's office.
Looks like my luck ran out the moment Howie grabbed me... another two seconds and Otten would have swung like a girl and missed... giving me cause to deck her the way I decked Cutler... I'm sure the rats haven't forgotten how I helped pull their chestnuts out of the fire—maybe that will count for something....
His reflection sneered at the thought.
Yeah, right—when was the last time IAB did anyone here a favor?
He shrugged just to see his reflection act nonchalant about his situation.
At least they can't yank my benefits and pension... I knew when I moved here that I'd hit retirement age before I made my twenty, but no one can touch what I get from Baltimore... Otten, however, could lose everything—pension, health benefits, reputation....
His reflection broke into a wide grin.
Serves her right for starting this... I'll hit bottom, but she'll hit rock bottom... I can live with that... but that's worst case... I can still pull this off... Don and I go back a long way... we've been through a lot together.... he'll listen to me....
Office of Captain D. Cragen
Manhattan Special Victims Unit
11 July
I can think of better ways to start a day... eating live caterpillars with milk, attending a CompStat meeting in my shorts, finding out coffee has been banned from the squadroom... my two oldest detectives assaulting fellow officers was not on that list... must be my penance for having a great day yesterday....
It had taken all the self-control Cragen had not to commit some assault of his own.
I don't long for the good old days too often, but knocking a couple of heads together right then would have felt pretty damn good....
Instead he focused solely on Brewster and Sofarelli as victims, and Lynde and the other detectives as potential witnesses, letting his anger serve as blinders against Munch's shock and Otten's horror at what they each had done.
I'd expect this from Stabler, not them....
Now in his office, Cragen pondered the dilemma that was Sue's volunteered testimony. If Munch and Otten truly intended to drawn their weapons in anger, then he had no choice but to hand them over to IAB.
Can't have us shooting up squadrooms... what would the perps think?
However, if the detectives' only intent was a good old-fashioned fistfight, then he could handle it in-house as command level discipline, keeping it away from One P.P. and those compiling the promotion list.
But doing that is the same as calling Lynde a liar or a bad witness—not good for unit morale... I did give her a chance to back down, but she's sticking to her story and, unfortunately, no one else was paying attention....
While he considered his options, Cragen called Brewster into his office to hear his version. The lead detective settled himself carefully into the side chair, using the edge of the desk to lower himself into the seat.
"You still okay?" Cragen asked.
"Well, " Brewster replied, "I'm peeing blood and I can't spell Mississippi. Other than that, I'm fine."
Cragen's hand shot to his phone at "peeing blood." The second symptom told him that Brewster didn't really need an ambulance.
I don't need humor right now... I need a way out of this that doesn't reflect badly on me... if this goes before to the Suspended/Modified Review Committee, Tony Balzano, chairman of said committee, will eat me alive... bye-bye promotion....
"Howie," he said, "I'm not finding anything funny here."
The lopsided grin on the redhead's face faded at the scold in his CO's voice.
"My apologies, sir. Other than being sore, I'm fine. I know how to take a punch and Munch is a lightweight."
"You know," Cragen told him, "Houdini was killed by a punch to the stomach."
Howie snorted a laugh at the thought.
"He'd still be around if Munch hit him."
Cragen let the anachronism slide.
"Tell me what happened."
Brewster's story was succinct and not very informative.
Basically, Howie was busy with his e-mail, his back to Munch and Otten, when Sue shouted... Howie grabbed Munch... Munch punched him... I walked in... no indication as to what triggered the incident....
"Detective Brewster," he asked, deliberately assuming a command bearing for the question, "do you wish to file formal charges against Detective Munch?"
Howie wasted no time considering the question.
"No, I don't think so."
"Your partner thinks you should."
"Sue mother-hens me. It's not one of her better qualities. Now, let me tell you what I would like...."
Brewster brushed his hand through his hair then leaned forward and rested his hands on the desk.
"I'd like something to be done about the two of them. Maybe counseling, maybe arbitration—hell, put Munch and Otten in a ring together and let them slug it out. Whatever you do, keep them and their shit away from this shift. We're all tired of it."
After Brewster left, Cragen called in Sofarelli. The younger detective's nosebleed had cleared up and he had taken the time to wash up. Other than some swelling around his nostrils, Sofarelli looked fine.
The captain asked him anyway.
"Sure, sir. Nothing to it. It's my fault if I let someone clock me like that. Mostly, it makes me feel better about having Judith at my back."
Cragen raised both his eyebrows at the odd remark.
"Getting your nose broken means your partner can protect you?"
"It wasn't broken, sir; she just smushed it a bit. What happened was, I grabbed Judith from behind in a bear hug and she reacted exactly the right way—she threw her head back into my face, distracting me with pain, then she went limp, which let her slip down through my arms and get away."
Couch raised his right hand, his fingers pulled into a fist.
"She was all set to hit me again, which is the correct next move—take me out while I'm busy concentrating on how much my nose hurts, when you came in."
Cragen considered Sofarelli's information.
"What made you grab your partner?"
"Detective Lynde. I was at the coffee pot with Amelia and Dan when she called out. It didn't take any time for me to get to Judith."
"What was Munch doing?"
"He was squared off in front of Judith, his hand raised as though blocking a strike from her."
"So they didn't look like they were about to shoot each other?"
"No, sir. Sue must be mistaken about that."
Cragen blew a slow breath through his lips.
That's what I need to handle this in-house, far away from Balzano and any charges he might make against me... except that, with his partner involved, Couch isn't as impartial a witness as Sue is....
"Do you know what set them off?" he asked.
Couch slumped back in his chair.
"No, sir—not this time, but they've been sniping at each other since we transferred in."
"Do you know why?"
The younger man dropped his head, breaking eye contact with his captain, and shook his head. Cragen leaned forward, a move that drew Sofarelli's attention back to him.
"Couch, if you want to command, then you have to start thinking like a commander. You have to consider the good of the unit."
...and not what protects your partner.....
Sofarelli pursed his lips as he considered the matter.
"My best guess," he finally said, "is that we all assume Judith and John are the same—I mean, they both came out of Homicide, they both have thirty-plus years on the job, they both share the same ethnicity. Thing is—we're wrong. What makes the two of them tick couldn't be more different."
He stretched his right arm out and made another fist.
"Judith is religious, family-oriented, one of the most rooted people I know."
He raised his left hand and spread his fingers wide.
"John seems more agnostic with no deep family ties, and he's very wide-ranging in his interests."
Couch them moved both hands together until his fist was touching his fingers. He then applied enough force to bend his fingers back, showing how his fist could not mesh with the open hand.
"We keep treating them like puzzle pieces, but they aren't from the same puzzle. They won't ever fit together."
"I can see that—good visual, by the way. Now, tell me how deep their antagonism is toward each other?"
"What do you mean, sir?"
"How much do they hate each other? How far would either of them go to ruin each other's career and reputation?"
Couch dropped his gaze to the desk top. Cragen counted the seconds until he finally answered.
"They both have the highest respect for each other as detectives; Judith said as much about John. It's just that they can't stand each other as people."
Cragen held his expression still to hide his relief.
Then they're still professionals, even if they are acting like babies... good... I can use that to leverage what I need out of this mess....
"I'm required to ask this question. Do you wish to file formal charges against Detective Otten?"
The younger man answered promptly.
"No, sir. If I file charges, Judith automatically gets suspended. Her case goes to the S/MRC and she'll be forced out. They won't bother with modified duty or special monitoring for a detective with over thirty years on the job. The cost justifications aren't there."
"Someone's been studying his exam questions."
"Yes, sir—every chance I get. I don't want to blow this exam—not after everything you did to get me on the list."
Sofarelli's gratitude brought a smile to Cragen's face, a smile that faded as soon as the young man left his office.
Now comes the hard part... I have to structure my questions for Munch and Otten so I get the outcome I need... it's simple game theory—the Prisoner's Dilemma adapted to this situation....
After few minutes of working on scrap paper, he came up with the following:
Both Munch and Otten Stay Silent Lynde's version goes to theS/MRC and they both get fired
Otten admits to intent to commit
assault against a fellow officer & Munch Stays Silent Lynde's version goes to the S/MRC and they both get fired
Munch admits to intent to commit
assault against a fellow officer & Otten Stays Silent Lynde's version goes to the S/MRC and they both get fired
Both Munch and Otten admit to intent to commit
assault against a fellow officer In-house discipline: neither gets fired
The plan hinged on whether John and Judith loved their jobs more than they hated each other.
I know neither of them wants to leave before their mandatory retirement date... John for financial reasons—his pension from Baltimore isn't enough to live on in Manhattan... for Judith, it's the satisfaction she gets from being the oldest MOS in her family, a shining example to all the Ottens and Fogels... the threat of being forced back to Baltimore should be enough for John, and Judith should cave when faced with explaining to her family how she got fired....
He rechecked his outcomes and decided they were good.
The classic Prisoner's Dilemma rewards betrayal—whether both prisoners betray or only one does, the punishment for betrayal is lighter... I need them both to choose betrayal... if one of them prefers the review committee, which is their right, then this matter goes before Deputy Commissioner Balzano and my promotion is toast... I may not believe Sue's version, but I'm happy to use it to my advantage....
He opened his computer's word processor and began to peck at the keyboard.
Now, to draft that discipline action....
As commanding officer, Cragen had the responsibility for ensuring that the general regulations were upheld by his people. Command level discipline granted him the authority to adjudicate Schedule A offenses such as dress code violations, losing police property....
... except for badges... losing something that permits a criminal to pass as an police officer is an automatic charge from the Department Advocate's office....
He also was responsible for violations of protocol and behavior both in the squadroom and out on the streets.
For those, I can hand out formal warnings, take away vacation days, deduct monetary fines from paychecks... add that to my ability to rearrange work schedules, assign personnel to round-the-clock shifts, cancel days-off and I can make life hell for anyone who deserves it for as long as I want....
Cragen reread what he had typed.
They deserve more than losing a few vacation days... it's not just my promotion... I can't have Otten "forgetting" to watch Munch's back or if Munch "accidentally" losing track of Otten on the streets... whether they like each other or not, I have to know they will play well together....
He shuffled through the papers in his in-box so he could crib some wording from a inter-departmental memo on cold cases....
Might as well make someone happy with this... John and Judith won't be, but that's tough... it's this or go home permanently... I haven't spent all this time and effort just to watch them blow it for me....
He read through the text of the discipline action plan, and corrected a spelling mistake then he printed a copy for each of their office files.
This stays in-house... nothing in their permanent jackets unless they screw it up... I'm giving them a huge opportunity here... they better appreciate it....
Cragen slid the documents under his blotter then he asked Ted Reyes the shift admin to have Smoot bring Otten to his office.
"After that," he told Reyes, "have Tech Services set a computer up in Interview One and make sure the phone in there is working. I need this done ASAP."
After Ted took off for Interview Two to deliver the message, Cragen opened the blinds on the window to the adjoining interview room. John's craggy face frowning at him from behind the one-way glass rocked him back on his heels.
Wow--that is one pissed-off Munch... good... angry people don't think clearly....
A knock on his office signaled Otten's arrival.
It's show time... wish I'd changed into my uniform...more official and impressive... at least I'm in a new suit....
"Come in."
The second he saw Otten, he was glad he had not taken a seat behind his desk.
Head held high, spine straight—for someone who should be dead on her feet, Otten looks loaded for bear....
He sent Smoot to wait outside his door.
Sorry, Otten—I plan to do all the shooting....
He scowled at his subordinate then lit into her.
"I don't care what was behind your actions today. What I care about is your fitness to perform your sworn duties as a New York City police officer and as a detective on this unit."
He folded his arms and scowled at her.
"What I saw in the bullpen this morning makes your fitness questionable at best."
He let the scorn-laded words eat at Otten in silence. She stood at attention, a wisp of hair that had escaped a hair clip blowing in the draft from the A/C vent. The deep shadows under her eyes and the compression of her lips were the only signs of her tension.
"Sir," she said, "if I may...."
"Forget it, Otten. There's no excuse for breaking your partner's nose just because he kept you from killing a fellow officer."
Her eyes went wide.
Let her think I swallowed Sue's version hook, link, and sinker... hopelessness helps me, not her....
"I want your shield and weapon on my desk."
Otten's hand shook as she reached into her inside jacket pocket for her shield case. She put it on his desk then she took her Glock from its holster. This she placed next to her shield with its muzzle pointed at her.
Nice touch... no implicit threat against me... no eye contact, either—not while putting her hardware down and not now... I've got complete capitulation....
Cragen walked to his chair and pulled it back before unbuttoning his suit jacket and sitting down. Otten turned ninety degrees to face him. Her jaw had slacked enough for her to breath through pale lips, and her gaze remained downcast and unfocused.
She's starting to tremble... better not push this too far... a trip to the emergency room will mess up my timing....
Cragen rested his elbows on the desk and folded his arms before him.
"Now," he told her, "you've left me with three options."
He held up an index finger.
"One—you can resign. This probably will seem abrupt, maybe even unexpected, to your family and friends, but it is an option."
He turned around as though reaching onto his credenza for the appropriate forms.
"Uh... ."
She swallowed so hard he heard her throat constrict.
"What else is there, sir?"
I knew you wouldn't take the easy out... too many people would wonder why....
He turned back around and held up two fingers.
"Two—I can kick this upstairs. You'll go before the Review Committee for a decision on this matter. The Detectives' Endowment Association will provide you a rep. Any decisions made by the committee will be reported to the Commissioner, and the SVU Bureau Chief. You'll probably lose your shield and pension."
He strove for lightness as he stated that fact, knowing that his not caring would make it worse to her. The sick dread on Otten's face warmed him so much he had to suppress a smile.
I knew that was the right way to word this... this is going just like I planned....
Cragen raised another finger.
"Three—you can sign a discipline action stating that you intended to commit assault against a fellow officer and you accept the determination that I as your CO have made in this matter. If you choose this option, this matter will be treated a Schedule A violation. There will be no permanent notations in your jacket and you'll be returned to your shift when you complete the action plan."
The moment he said "Schedule A violation," Otten's gaze snapped to focus on him. Her trembling ceased as she gaped at him in total shock.
Yeah, I know... it's like being asked to choose electrocution, firing squad, or a slap on the wrist... try not to take too long deciding....
Otten's nod was more of a tremor running up her spine, but it was enough to signal acceptance. Cragen slid the topmost action plan from under his blotter then he placed it in front of Otten.
"This takes you out of the rotation and puts you on cold cases until you can play well with your fellow detectives and your partner's nose heals."
Otten flinched as she took the paper from his desk. She held it in two hands while she glanced over it.
Don't read it too closely—especially the phrase "work the assignment in accordance with the orders of your commanding officer"... it's not the boilerplate it appears to be....
She reached into her jacket and pulled out a pen. With it, she signed her name, printed it on the line below then filled in her shield number.
Cragen stifled a smile as she wrote.
One down... one to go....
While she was writing, he crossed to the office door and beckoned Officer Smoot inside. As soon she shut the door, he pointed at the detective.
"Please take Otten into the hall and wait there for my knock."
Smoot nodded and Otten rose from her chair. The two women squeezed past the folded cot that partially blocked the door to the dead-end hallway outside his office. Otten tried once more to catch his attention; Cragen pointedly refused to look at her.
You'll have my attention soon enough....
Cragen shut the door behind them then he took Otten's hardware and secured them in his desk drawer. He next crossed his office to flip the switch on the interview room speaker.
"Officer Maddox, would you bring Munch into my office?"
Manhattan SVU
11 July
John was looking down at the street when the speaker crackled with Cragen's request.
About damn time... I've been cooling my heels in here for over an hour....
He strode past Officer Maddox and out of the interview room.
No Couch... no Brewster—just everyone else staring at me... under other circumstances, it would be flattering....
He opened the door to the captain's office and stepped inside.
And there's our captain seated behind his desk, resplendent in a new gray suit... the way he's frowning at me, you'd think I'd taken a crap on his desk... nothing to worry about... he's probably still pissed at Otten... I may be going second, but he'll listen to me... Don's a stand-up guy and we've got history together... he trusts me....
John halted before Cragen's desk and came as close to 'at attention' as his hip would let him.
It's the only time I lean to the right...
He aimed his gaze at his superior and waited for Cragen to ask for his side of the story. The captain stared at him for a few moments then his eyes went flat and cold.
"Your actions this morning," he said, "show that you are unfit to be a detective on this unit."
John jerked back as though slapped.
"What?"
Cragen leaned forward. John eased his weight back from his toes.
He's got it wrong... Elliot gets yelled at, not me... I should check behind the desk for pods....
"There is no excuse," Cragen continued, "for slugging my lead detective. Hand over your shield and weapon."
My shield?
John felt the starch leave his bones as he gaped at Cragen.
But what about Otten? What about hearing me out? You can't take my shield—you can't....
John met his gaze and checked his expression for any signs of softening. The flat stare and implacable sternness offered no hope for him.
I don't see Otten's hardware anywhere... she hit her partner—that's got to count for more than me slugging Howie....
"But... but don't I get a chance to tell—"
"No, you don't. Shield and weapon, now."
Said quietly but coldly, Cragen's words turned his stomach to slush. John reached into his jacket and pulled out his shield case. He set the leather case on Cragen's desk and reached for his weapon. Mentally cursing the way his fingers fumbled on the grip, he finally freed his Glock then he placed it by the shield case.
Well, it looks like I'm getting suspended... I can handle that... just have to think of it as a vacation without pay....
Cragen settled back in his chair and folded his arms on the desk before him.
"Now," he said, "you're left with three options. First, you can resign. Since you don't have enough years in here, you'll receive no pension or benefits."
Cragen spun his chair as though reaching onto his credenza for the appropriate forms. It felt to John like the room spun with him.
Resign? You're kidding... you have to be kidding....
"I hope the City of Baltimore," Cragen continued, "gave you enough to retire on."
John swallowed a mouthful of bile.
Retire? On half-fucking-pay? That pension won't cover my monthly bills—let alone food and necessities... or spiffy new suits like yours....
He eased his weight on his left leg and fought to keep from shaking.
Turn it down... turn it down... whatever else there is, it has to be better than this....
"Could I hear the other choices, sir?" he asked, glad only that his voice did not quaver.
Cragen turned back around and stared at him. His upper lip twitched, but nothing in his eyes told John if it was from satisfaction or disgust.
"Second option," the captain said, "I can turn this over to the rat squad. I heard Friday that Lt. Cutler finished his suspension and has been reassigned to IAB's Manhattan unit."
The slush roiling John's stomach turned to ice.
Cutler... Lieutenant Jonas Cutler... my decking him last month was a 'thing of beauty'... something I'm sure Cutler and his buddies haven't forgotten... If IAB uses that incident with this one, it forms a pattern of assault... if I were Cutler and wanted to screw me over, I'd certainly use it....
He tried to picture himself walking into an interrogation room with Lt. Cutler and a few of his new rat buddies.
No... not this option, either... I know too well what can happen in the dark corners and 'empty' rooms of a police station... I've done enough 'tuning-up' to ever want to be 'tuned'....
He examined his captain's expression as Cragen waited for his response.
How can you do this, Don? How can you sit there and so calmly threaten me with this? What the fuck is wrong with you?
Not willing to trust his voice a second time, John shook his head as a reply.
Tutuola... I probably won't ever tell you this, but you were right... we should have been watching out for Cragen....
The captain's impassive expression matched the cold of his voice.
"Then the third option—I handle this as a discipline action. You sign a form stating that you intended to commit assault against a fellow officer and that you accept the determination made by your CO in this matter. If you choose this, this assault will be treated a Schedule A violation. There will be no permanent notations in your jacket and you'll be returned to your shift when you complete the action plan."
The moment the captain said "Schedule A violation," John reached for the cup of pens and pencils on his desk.
I should play harder to get... not look like a drowning man grabbing a life-ring... but, between eating dogfood in a trailer park in Florida and letting Cutler work me over, Door Number Three looks pretty damn good....
Cragen slid a sheet of paper from under his blotter, and placed it in front of John.
"This takes you out of the rotation and puts you on cold cases until you can play well with your fellow detectives, Howie included."
John flinched at the mental image of Brewster doubled over in front of him. He took the paper and glanced over it.
Looks okay... it says exactly what Cragen says it does... do I really have a choice?
He took a pen from the cup on the desk before him and filled in the two blanks then he signed his name. Cragen watched with no sign of emotion.
Damn you, Don... and I hope you put Otten through this same hell....
Cragen took the form from John, and examined the signature then put it back under his blotter. Without a word to John, he left his chair to give the hall door a sharp rap.
It opened and Otten entered the office.
Shit... she's still here... Cragen must have manipulated her into taking Door Number Three, too....
She stayed by the door, eying John with the same cold hate he was getting from his captain.
You've got the years in, Otten—why didn't you resign? You got friends in high places—why didn't you take your chances with IAB?
He stared back at her with matching intensity.
Why the fuck are you here?
From the now-closed hall door, Cragen broke into his thoughts.
"One P.P. requested a review by each detective unit of its open cases. You two will perform that review in Interview One. Since our cold cases are stored in there, it's the perfect place to put you."
Otten went pale. Munch balled his fists and planted them on Cragen's desk.
"Us? Working together?"
"Yes," Cragen told him. "Next time, try acting like New York's Finest and not like tantruming three-year-olds."
John drew in a deep breath.
I'm starting with 'manipulative' and finishing with 'asshole'....
"You—"
Cragen took a step toward him and the words dried on his tongue.
"Yes, 'me'. The commander of this squad, the one who will decide if you stay or go. If you want to stay, here are the ground rules."
Cragen reached under his blotter and drew out a single sheet of paper. Without looking at Otten, he handed it to her.
"This is a package deal. If either of you can't cut it, you're both gone. You two got yourselves into the mess; now, get yourselves out. Don't bother complaining—I won't listen."
He glared first at Otten then at John before pointing at the adjoining interview room.
"Dismissed."
Otten moved toward the door first. John quickly spun on his heel and got to the knob first. He yanked the door open and strode through it. Otten caught the door before it swung shut and left with similar speed.
As soon as they were gone, Cragen closed the blinds facing the squad room to get some privacy . His attention went to the two service weapons and the two detective shields in their cases, one with Munch's I.D., the other with Otten's.
Couldn't they have waited until after the promotion list came out?
Through the open blind to the interview room, he saw Munch and Otten facing off across the table. John's arms were flailing as he drove home his point. The sneer on Otten's face showed no willingness to grant anything to him.
I see Ted got the computer installed—good... maybe they'll actually get something accomplished....
Cragen took his chair and got back to the day's paperwork.