"Partners in the Balance"
by Cardinal Robbins
Disclaimer: John's not mine, but Sarah certainly is. You want her, Dick Wolf? Well, babe, you're gonna have to pay me.
This is a challenge response to the words 'Perfect Balance.'
Two people never had such perfect balance, of that John Munch was sure.
As much as he admired and clicked with Fin Tutuola, with whom he frequently worked cases, he was enamored of Detective Sarah Zelman every bit as much. She was the intuition to his logic, the flawless jump of conjecture to the reason behind every case he made. If there was something he was stalled on, her ability to see things from varying perspectives refreshed his thinking as much as his drive to collar the perp.
Even more important, as with Fin, he could count on Sarah to back him up – in both closing the case and bringing in the suspect. He nodded to her and they exited the unmarked in their unique synchronicity, striding side by side to the door. John pounded on it as she called out, identifying them as police.
They stood on each side of the entrance, waiting for a response and getting none.
She nodded and John quickly moved forward and kicked the door open, his gun drawn. Zelman had his back as they rapidly entered, with four uniformed officers behind them. Munch motioned to the stairs and Sarah effortlessly positioned herself in front, gun drawn, as she went swiftly up to the second floor with John right behind her.
The sound of footsteps alerted them to the master bedroom and they hesitated in front of it for the briefest moment, trading a glance. She knew he had her back as well, as she pushed through the door and started to search. Everyone fanned out in an effort to locate the rapist, whose usual M.O. was to make a silent exit through any unlocked window. This time, he'd been stymied – the exterior of the property was surrounded by vigilant unies.
Whoever caught this guy was going to score in a major way. There were serious bragging rights at stake, because he'd somehow slipped from the grasp of the officers at the 22nd Precinct. The men and women of the 16th Precinct weren't about to relinquish their grip.
"He's in there," Munch almost whispered, just loud enough for Zelman to hear. "Me or you?" he asked, giving her the opportunity to take the collar, knowing she would give him equal credit.
"Both of us," she replied softly, as he pulled open the bathroom door. She saw a blur of motion in the enclosed shower and they simultaneously pressed against opposite sides of the bathroom walls.
The shower door shattered in an explosion of tempered glass, as a shot echoed through the small room. John returned fire first, as Sarah moved into the space, her gun trained on the skel. Munch's shot had gotten the perp's full attention, prodding him to be much more compliant as Zelman grabbed his .22, cuffed him harshly and dragged him from the shower. John took him from her, his Miranda rights recited by rote.
Only when the alleged rapist was ensconced in the patrol car did they share a look between them, as two people who were so much more than merely partners. They surreptitiously scrutinized each other for any obvious harm, in such a way no one else suspected the depth of their concern. After each was sure the other had remained out of harm's way, only then would they return to the crime scene.
Once they'd gathered evidence and concluded their business at the scene, they headed back to the house, sure the perp would be ready for an interrogation room.
Almost without any advance thought, they took turns tag-teaming the suspect, playing their effortless game of 'good cop/bad cop,' until they were rewarded with his confession. As he wrote it all down to be dutifully documented in a D-D5, they observed him from behind the one-way glass.
They watched with satisfaction as he was taken to a holding cell, to be transferred while awaiting arraignment. A shared bust, a collaborative collar. As they left for the night, walking out together, the only thing they differed on was dinner.
"Orange chicken at Chik-N-Chow?" John asked, hoping she was in the mood for Chinese food.
"Hmmm… Maybe some ravioli from d'Angelo's?" Sarah countered, wondering if she could sway him toward Italian take-out.
"Hey, what about – " he began, opening the car door for her.
"Georgiou's Greek?" she asked, sliding into the unmarked.
"I was thinking the same thing," he replied, suddenly in the mood for some marinated lamb.
"Me, too," she said, looking forward to chicken with lemon and oregano. "Maybe some ouzo?"
"Sure, babe…sounds good."
He smiled. As always, they'd found the perfect balance.