"Hey, Will, we're goin' down to the club to get a few beers, you in?" Fin asked his partner, motioning with his thumb to three men behind him.
Wilma had been at Narcotics for seven months now, and was beginning to get into a rhythm. She looked up at her partner and the leering men behind him. She knew what they were thinking, and she wasn't about to encourage them. "No thanks, Fin, I've still gotta finish up this paperwork and I already have plans for dinner."
One of the men, Jerry Calli, raised his eyebrows, "Hot date, Carson?"
She smirked back at him, "Something like that, Calli. It's called: I have plans that I'm not going to tell you about."
"Come on, Will," Jerry's partner, Alan Hanuman, whined, pouting like a little boy, "Tell us, please."
That resulted in a snort from Wilma as she continued with her paperwork, not even bothering to look up, "Don't call me that, Hanuman. You're not my partner. And no, I'm not telling you what I'm doing tonight so drop it before I tell your wife that you tried to do more than look last week."
Alan glared at her before turning to Fin, "She obviously doesn't want to come. Let's go before she starts profiling all of us again."
"Now, now, Alan, I only did that once. And you deserved it," Wilma said, working on her paperwork as she spoke.
Alan's glare intensified as he stocked to the elevator, causing Fin to laugh at him as the other three men walked toward the elevator.
It only took Wilma fifteen minutes to finish the few papers she had left. When she looked up she noticed the suspect Bobby had been interrogating being led away by two sergeants, Bobby close behind them. "Done already?" she asked in surprise as he walked past her to his desk.
He nodded, "He wasn't that hard to break. Typical second in command who wanted more power than he could handle."
"Wow. How long before you got him singing?"
"About ten minutes. He lasted longer than the last one did, anyway."
"So, this is number twenty-five for you?" Wilma asked, as they walked toward the elevators and headed down to the parking lot.
"Yep. Twenty-five in almost seven years," he turned to look at her with a boyish grin on his face as he said, "And fifty-two partners."
Wilma winced at the last part, "That reminds me, did your request for a transfer come through, yet?"
Bobby shook his head, "No. Lt. Ashley's still looking for a squad that'll take 'Crazy Bobby Goren'."
"Bobby, don't do that," Wilma said, pleadingly, "Don't let what they say get to you. We both know it's not true."
Bobby shrugged, "I try not to let it bother me, but … you were there when Mark Longing bailed on me. He called me a 'schizo waiting to happen', Wilma. He shouted it in the middle of the bullpen. I know … you've been doing your best to … stop the rumors … but I've had enough of being … Narcotics' black sheep."
She furrowed her brow at him, "Get in the car, Bobby, it's almost six anyway – we can go straight to the restaurant."
Without a word, the big man folded himself into his sister's truck (he had been a little surprised when she had purchased the car that wasn't exactly small, but he'd soon learned that she liked to drive the larger model cars because it made her feel more secure on the road) and waited for what he knew was coming.
Surprisingly enough, Wilma was silent as she drove to the little Italian place that had become their biweekly tradition. "You know," she finally said, "They haven't exactly been kind to me since I got here, either."
Bobby's hands stilled as he digested her words, "I'm sorry about that. I … tried to stop the rumors. … But you know how squads are."
Wilma nodded, "Yeah, I know. Come on, let's go eat."
The siblings sat down at their usual table, near the back of the restaurant, and waited patently for their usual waitress to arrive.
"Did you hear about Major Case?" Wilma asked. "They're getting a new captain next month: Jimmy Deakins."
Bobby nodded, breaking one of the breadsticks on the table into little pieces, "Yeah. I met him once. He'll do pretty good there. How are things going with you and Fin?"
Wilma shrugged, "Seven months and no complaints. It took him a while to get used to my profiling, but we seem to have a pretty good rhythm now. At least he's not checking out my legs every time we go undercover, anymore."
Her brother nodded, refusing to comment what used to be a common occurrence in the early months of Wilma's stationing in Narcotics. He was about to comment on something else when their waitress came up to take their orders. For the next half an hour, the siblings sat, watching the couples and families at the tables that surrounded them, commenting here and there about the lives the strangers led.
"Oh my God," Wilma whispered as a family of three sat down at a table near theirs. They had just finished eating their entrée and were waiting for the waitress to bring them dessert when the family had walked in.
"What is it?" Bobby asked, wondering what had caused his sister to go so completely white beneath her tan.
Wilma's shocked eyes met Bobby's, "My ex-husband just sat down with his new wife and my son."
Immediately Bobby expanded where he was focusing his eyes, and found that the family of three was seated to his left, only one table away. He didn't remove his gaze from his sister's face as he asked, "When was the last time you saw Jeremy?"
Wilma shrugged, "I sent him a present for Christmas and his birthday, but Steven hasn't let me see him since the divorce. I'm not even sure he knows that I'm here."
A very evil idea popped into Bobby's head, and being as he was the uncle of the boy and still had yet to meet the five-year-old, he said, "Feel like crashing the family dinner?"
Wilma's eyes had a glint of mischief in them as she responded, "Oh, we couldn't, Bobby. That would be way too naughty."
He just motioned his head, dropped some money down on the table, stood up and started walking over to where the small family was sitting. Wilma's eyes widened as she realized how utterly serious her brother was.
"Bobby!" she screeched as she grabbed her purse and went to follow him.
Unfortunately for Wilma, she seemed to forget the impeccable hearing her son, Jeremy, had. She was reminded of this when he looked up and saw her walking toward him with a man who looked a lot like her. He smiled toothily, revealing two missing teeth, before jumping out of his chair and running into his mother's arms.
"Mommy!" he cried joyously.
Wilma caught the boy easily, with a happy smile on her face as she said, "Hey, baby."
Jeremy looked up at his mother with the fiercest scowl a six-year-old could muster, "I'm not a baby anymore, Mommy! I'm a big boy!"
Wilma chuckled, "Of course you are, sweetie – but you'll always be my baby boy. Now, there's someone I want you to meet." She turned her son toward Bobby, who was having a glare-off with Steven (the two obviously had some history). "Jeremy, this is your Uncle Bobby. He's Mommy's older brother."
Jeremy puffed out his chest and held out his hand to the much taller man. "Pleased to meet you, Uncle Bobby. Are you a cop like Mommy?"
Bobby smiled, "Yes, Jeremy, I am. That's actually how your mommy found me."
The little boy's eyes lit up, "Can I see your badge?"
At that Steven glared at his son, "Now, Jeremy, sit back down. I'm sure Mommy and … Uncle Bobby were just leaving. Isn't that right, Wilma?"
Wilma gave her son one last hug before turning to her ex-husband, "I'm staying on Manhattan Island, and I'm stationed in the Narcotic's unit. I'd really like to see Jeremy again, Steven." She directed her attention at her baby boy before smiling softly and saying, "Bye, baby."
"Bye, Mommy," Jeremy said in response, a joyous smile at seeing his mommy again after almost two years still gracing his boyish face. "Love you."
"Love you, too."
A/N: So? What do you all think? I know, that was kinda rude of Bobby ... but just wait - he has history with Steven! No, not that type of history - Steven was the defense attorney in a case Bobby had solved and the guy had gone after Bobby's credibility on the stand. Very mean man. Don't worry, Bobby won that fight.
