Whir.
Whir.
-click-
An annoyed drumming of fingers; bone against metal. Flesh covered bone against cool, silver metal.
Another deep sigh. Sarcastic. Twinkling gleam in twin blue orbs. Exhausted crinkles. Darkening jaw. Stubble jaw.
"Well? What else could we possible go over?" Bone tired. Bone. Bone against metal.
A shrug. "You have nothing further to discuss with us?"
Rolling of eyes. "I never had anything to discuss with you guys." Leans towards them, sneer on his pink lips. "I'm here against my will, remember?"
"We remember, Detective." Quips one. The man. Stone faced.
A quick snap of the fingers, towards a darkened corner. A figure steps out. A tall man.
An exchange of papers, manila folders.
A smirk. "Who's this?" Nods towards the shadowed figure.
"No one you need to worry about." Snappily. The woman. Annoyed? Of course.
Rolling of stiff neck, arms folded casually across a broad chest. "Are we done?" Change of topic.
"One last thing we need to discuss with you, Detective."
Partially opens mouth; lips cracked and dry. A sigh? A smart comment? A wet, darting tongue to moisten the dehydrated flesh?
"And what's that?" A question.
The man, the man sitting across from the smirking Detective, nudges the manila folder. Across the table. A soft scrape of coarse paper against metal. Silver metal.
Leans in, snatches up folder with reeled-in interest. "What's this?"
"A detailed account of the Gitano case."
Still air. Still, still air.
Squared jaw. Angry gleam. Red, bull neck. Flaring nostrils.
"And...?"
Tilt of head. Enjoyment. They are enjoying this.
The woman.
"We understand that your partner never took the shot."
The man.
"We also know that you chose your partner of Gitano, who at the time was armed and carrying a defenseless child."
Flippant shrug. Grinding of teeth. "First of all, she didn't take the shot because she was beaten to it by another officer. Second, I checked to see if she was alright for a brief second...I went after Gitano right away."
"No." Shaking of heads. Slowly. They know. "No, from the report, and several witness accounts, you refused to leave your partner's side until she forced you to go after Gitano. She had a superficial neck wound. She was fine, it was a just a scratch."
Leaps to feet. Anger evident. They push their seats away an inch, they hide their surprise. He paces, feet pounding the cement flooring.
"I didn't know it was superficial! How was I supposed to know that? He could have cut her artery, she could have died! How the hell do you expect me to know that it was a minor wound? How!"
Slams hands on metal table. Echoing shouts bouncing within the enclosed walls. Chest heaving. Anger, anger...
Cool, collected man. The bastard.
"So, you have no relationship with Detective Benson that you claim? No more than say, a brother or sister relationship?"
Woman, seemingly timid in her gestures. "Is there anything else you have to say?"
Harsh laugh. Sad, tired, angry laugh. Even voice, emotional expression. Too many emotions to claim it as one.
"Listen, lady. Liv and I are partners, friends. We've known each other for years, we're pals, brother and sister...nothing more." Suffering sigh. Slowly falls down onto edge of chair. Rests sweat-beaded forehead in the palm of his hand. "Dammit, Liv and I have no romantic relationship. Don't you get it? We're just friends..."
Exchange of raised eyebrows.
"I think this is everything we need. Thank you Detective for your cooperation."
-click-
"I can go, now?" Weary. Bleary eyed. Stands slowly, hands in pockets.
"Yes. Have a good day."
"Right." Far away, out of this world. Crazy.
He leaves. He finally leaves.
Man and woman share an expressionless look before shuffling papers.
.
-click-
-click-
.
-click-
-click-
"...He said something or other about God owing us one, and I agreed."
Brown eyes meet man and woman. Placid faced man and woman.
"He mentioned that day to us as well. Do you know why that is?"
A small shrug, legs crossed over one another, arms resting in her lap casually.
"Just one of those few days where everything felt right in the world...just a good day." Small, remembering smile.
"Tell us more about the case. The one involving Sandra Hanson."
Quick fluttering of eyes. "An awful day, an awful case. The shit sure hit the fan that day."
"What happened?"
A deep, soft sigh. A small smile flutters about the lips of the female Detective.
"In the words of Elliot Stabler, 'It just all went to shit.'" Looks at her nails, presses on. "I'm assuming you want the facts?"
Woman. "Just the facts."
Another smile appears and disappears from her lips. Another joke. An old memory.
"It all happened three weeks ago..."
End.
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