A/N: I came so close to getting this up to Christmas in time for actual real-time Christmas, but life has a way of happening! But fear not, said she, in case mighty dread has seized your troubled minds - Christmas is coming.
Nicky's been on the highway for about thirty minutes, taking it easy in the slow lane and singing along with her new Boots CD, when the smaller whispering gears of her mind start catching hold. It's been a strange twenty four hours, to say the least, and there's a lot to process.
Uncle Jamie had cleared out of his room at the inn without comment, last night, except to say that he and the boys would be in the next door cabin. Nicky hadn't given it much thought, after the dramatic events of the evening. Of course Eddie and Uncle Jamie had separate rooms. They were on a work trip. And of course Jamie and the boys would share one cabin, and she and Eddie the other. As far as her insanely extra-socially-normative family was concerned, she and the boys were still "the kids", and women supervised girls and men supervised boys. The appearance of the thing demanded it.
Nicky suddenly thinks it entirely likely that Uncle Jamie used those family expectations as a smokescreen to avoid any other questions. She's reliably certain that he and Eddie had slept apart, that first night, though. Both beds were slept in and remade, neat but no longer hotel-perfect. Now she remembers some curious phrases that Uncle Jamie used when talking to Erin and Uncle Danny the night before.
"We'll find a motel or something and make sure everyone gets a good night's sleep before we send them back. Eddie and I are back on shift out here tomorrow anyway."
That didn't sound anything like "We'll just call the Inn we're already staying at, and ask if they can put up three more people overnight."
Which could only mean that Eddie and Uncle Jamie hadn't told anyone they were staying there. Not even their CO. They must have snuck out of town without telling anyone. Maybe to get a decent sleep before their early morning shift, or maybe, just maybe, for some time together outside of the city?
She hopes so. They deserve it.
Uncle Danny certainly hadn't said anything about it, except that they were lucky to find a touristy place open in winter. For sure he couldn't have resisted making a crack about it if he knew.
Nicky realizes, with a breathless laugh to herself, that not even Sean and Jack know. There's no way Uncle Danny wouldn't have sniffed that out of them. They only saw their cabin once Uncle Jamie had carried his bag over, and all three of them had settled in at the same time.
Oh, this is too good.
Not that she's going to bust anyone. It's just nice to have an actual secret, in a family like theirs. Even a little one. She sort of wants them to know that she knows, anyway, and that they can trust her. Which means she better earn it. She's promised to text once or twice from the road, and it's as good an excuse as any.
First she needs more caffeine. Instead of taking the exit to the Expressway, she switches lanes and heads towards the retail plaza just before the exit. Soon equipped with a hazelnut latté from Starbucks, she sits in the warm car in the deserted parking lot, and gets out her phone.
Hey, Uncle J. All is well. Stopping for coffee and then back on the road.
Good show. Text when you get home, ok?
Not going to say anything about the inn, btw. Uncle D and Mom don't know, right?
There's a longer pause this time. She grins and sips her latté.
No, kiddo, they don't.
They don't need to. She types back. But if it comes up?
Tell the truth if anyone asks.
Sin of omission meanwhile?
For the best. Too many questions, even if simple answer. OK?
She grins wider.
You got it. Have a good day out there. It was really fun, even with the craziness.
One less bad guy off the street is always good. Eddie says you snore. Drive safe.
Yeah, right. XOXO
Nicky puts her phone away, and spends a minute or two thinking and warming her mittened hands around her latté. In Uncle Jamie terms, asking her to keep silent unless asked a direct question is a big deal. Something's changed, or changing. There's definitely no simple answer.
She thinks of Eddie and Uncle Jamie together over the years, how they move in step, how they've picked up on each other's facial expressions and phrases. How they glance at each other and check in, somehow, when they don't think anybody's looking. How quick they are to point out that they're spending their off-duty days together because of extra work on cases or personal favours – even driving out to see her and Chrissie at school, which they didn't have to do. How everyone can tell when they're fighting or stressed out, and when they make up, just by looking at one of them, like when her parents were still married, or Uncle Danny with Aunt Linda, and when Uncle Jamie was with Sydney.
Reagans don't have a good track record with relationships, she thinks. Maybe that's part of why Eddie and Uncle Jamie are always such easy marks for family gossip, besides Jamie's legendary secrecy and sputtering protests at being teased. Everyone would be so happy if they actually got together, and the family could use a few more functional romances.
She knows how her family jumps on the smallest hint of interesting news, and how claustrophobic it can be to try to let a relationship develop naturally in that setting. The best she can do for Uncle Jamie and Eddie is to give them as much space as possible from the rest of the family. What she needs is a diversion.
She reaches into the front seat console for the cardboard cover from The Boots' CD, and re-reads the hastily-scrawled message from Dale, the shaggy redheaded keyboardist, on the inside.
"Nicky, great to meet you. Next NYC gig is Brooklyn, Jan 5. Let me know if you can make it and I'll get you on the comp list."
He's left her his number. She's been thinking about it, and him, off and on since last night. And then, as she remembers teasing Jack about Tasha, which she still feels a bit squirmy about, she feels her decision fall into place.
Her family may sense when there's a secret brewing under their noses, but maybe she can pull off a bait-and-switch. Get the heat off Eddie and Uncle Jamie, take one for Team Cousins, and get to hang out with Dale again.
They're stationed outside the small white-painted church building again this afternoon, walking the quartz-chip path around the building and side parking lot. Pale winter sun shines directly overhead on ground frost and the steaming breaths of a couple hundred people lined up at the door, with the scent of hot coffee rising in the air. Inside, a gospel jazz group is rousing up the crowd with mellow, upbeat Christmas carols – the first Christmas concert of the season, out here. Clusters of people, all smiles and greetings, mill around waiting for friends. It's a perfect day to wind down a winter music weekend.
The serenity of the scene is lost on Jamie and Eddie. It's a good thing they're moving, because they can't stay still. Their steps are tight and precise with a level of nervous tension they don't usually exhibit. Waiting is always the worst.
Jamie slides his phone into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and sighs. Nicky's a good kid. She's trying to help, though she's clearly dying of curiosity. She reminds him of Erin more and more every day – except Erin would have gone further, and demanded to know what his intentions were, and how he was planning to deal with the family. He wonders whether Nicky will go lawyer or cop. It's pretty clear it'll be one or the other for her. Or maybe both, like him.
"What was that about?" Eddie asks him, catching his expression. He has to smile at her, hunched against the cold. Her usual jeans and suede jacket are not doing it for her in this weather, even with her thick green turtleneck underneath. She'd be warmer under the layers of her uniform and winter duty coat and cap, but she jumped at the chance to stay in her familiar second skin. Another circuit of the church and main venue, and they'll swap with one of the indoor teams. Staying busy today is a good thing.
"Nicky. She's fine, but I think I just sent her into the lion's den."
Eddie hums a note of acknowledgement. "I wondered. Not much escapes that one. Any other calls yet?"
"Not yet, but it's early still."
"No regrets?"
He catches himself about to take her chilly little hand. It feels so natural already, but they're still on duty. They're moving forward, and every step takes them deeper into unknown territory. Everyone around them is trained to demand answers they don't have yet.
All he knows for sure is that since Eddie, his entire concept of loving another human being has undergone a transformation. They've had an alchemical effect on one another that's taken this long to etch away the base metal from the gold underneath. No wonder they couldn't be certain if it was real. It had been in the process of becoming, all along.
This creation of theirs, this thing between them, feels exposed and vulnerable, now that it's out of its shell, and he wishes they could spend a whole week out here, away from everyone else. The constant background thrum of family speculation and office gossip is anathema to them both. He's a naturally private person, and Eddie cares so intensely about her workplace reputation. It would almost be easier if they really were hiding the passionate affair they've been suspected of having all along. They wouldn't have to convince anyone they weren't lying about it.
…although Eddie probably overestimated that they'd have held off for even ten seconds after getting back to their cabin last night, if things hadn't blown up. He's pretty sure they were about to start seriously baiting each other, the way they do. For real, now that they've decided to erase the line as they go. Driving each other crazy in public just with words and glances, seeing how far they can push each other. And they wouldn't have stopped, he knows. They'd have ended up tumbling onto his bed or hers as soon as the door closed behind them. God knows they've ended up near that line often enough, if they're finally being honest, on more than a few lonely nights over the years.
"No regrets," he says, with a small sideways grin. "But I miss my old partner already."
"Still got today."
"Yup."
"It's going to be fine," she tells him, softly.
"I know. I just wish the other shoe would drop. You think maybe I should just call Dad now and let Nicky off the hook?"
"Let Tony do his job first, with IAB and sorting out where he wants to put us," Eddie says, sensibly. "You don't want to go to your dad with incomplete information."
"Or Danny."
"Oof. Or Danny. Did I mention how much I don't mind being an only child?"
"You could've used a big sister to keep you in line."
"Not a big brother?"
"Nah, you'd never listen to a big brother. You'd be too busy trying to beat 'em at everything."
"Eh, you're probably right," she shrugs. "Oh, God. What if I end up with a female partner who wants to be all sistery? That's so not me."
"Could be worse. Baez is like a big sister to all the younger women in the five-four."
"Yeah, but she's Baez. She's going to end up Rabbi to all the women in the house." She regards him for a moment, thinking. "What about Erin? She seems more whiskey session than girls' wine night."
"Totally. Linda was always the sistery one. They were a good balance. Erin's more of a big-picture big sister. One-woman crusade with a social conscience."
"I get that," Eddie says. "You're not scared of Erin and me drinking together? Because it's going to happen, and soon."
"Nah. You both know you'll end up in hospital if you try to out-drink each other, and I kinda want to see what plans for world domination you come up with in the meantime."
The grin he gets from Eddie is enough to make him forget the cold. He realizes he's staring a little, dazzled by the mischief in her eyes and the sunlight on her lashes. She pinks up in response and gives him a look under those lashes that makes him feel like a teenager, and a way cooler one than he ever was. He'd never have considered asking out the cutest, toughest, smartest girl in his class. He might have pined from afar, but told himself that that was unrealistic.
If only he could have assured his sixteen year old self to sit tight and wait it out – that in four short years, he'd have gained a couple more inches, carried himself with a physical confidence that surprised even him, and spent his Saturday nights pushing technically-clothed making out to the limits with his sweet, brilliant girlfriend in the less-visited stacks of Cabot Library.
If only he could have known, after resigning himself to never meeting anyone who got him quite like Sydney, that Hurricane Eddie would be dropped on his doorstep, take it or leave it. And he'd resisted that pull and spin for so long, knowing that everything would change, for both of them. How could he ask a force of nature like Eddie to stay still? How could he be sure he wouldn't get flayed to the core?
Yet here they are.
"Stop it," she murmurs. "Unless you've got some actual action to go with that look."
"What look?"
"Reagan!" she warns, exasperated. "Ugh, how much longer are we gonna be left hanging?" she sighs, breaking the spell before one of them does or says something else they shouldn't, while on patrol. "I just want to know how deep in shit we are, before we get home."
"Three hours left on shift. If we haven't heard from Tony or IAB or anyone by then, I think we can assume there's nothing bad enough to call us in over, and we'll just get new assignments in the morning. Nothing but high level stuff gets worked out on Sunday afternoons."
"I hate the waiting."
He leans way into her space, close enough to feel the warmth of her. "Making you wait's sure fun," he murmurs into her ear. She huffs and shoves him away, which was his intent all along.
"In your dreams, Reagan."
"Wouldn't you – "
Eddie's phone chimes an e-mail warning then, just as his buzzes in his pocket. They stop in their tracks and stare at each other, not smiling anymore. Eddie reaches for her site radio, still holding his gaze.
"Janko to Command. Reagan and I are going on a fifteen minute coffee break. Nothing to report, it's all nice and boring out here."
"Ten-four, Janko. You can relieve Wong at the security table when you come back."
"Copy that."
He grabs her hand, and they head for the side door and the empty office inside.
To: Jamie REAGAN, Edit JANKO
From: Anthony RENZULLI
Date: December 3, 2017
Re: FWD: Conduct Inquiry
"Jamie, Eddie:
Forwarding this for your information. We'll talk after roll call. You will both remain on active duty tomorrow, but I'm going to keep you around the house in case they send a live human being to interview you. You did right to call first thing. I'm not making any announcements about new partner assignments until Monday morning briefing. The two of you have always done great work, and I want you to know I got your backs. I hope things work out for you.
I saw a couple of those photos. Pretty cute.
Sincerely,
Tony"
("You see?" Eddie nudges him with her elbow, as they stand reading off her phone side by side. "I told you he loves us.")
To: Anthony RENZULLI
From: Gerald FOSTER
Date: December 3, 2017
Re: Conduct Inquiry
"Sir,
I am in receipt of your memo regarding Officers Reagan J 60528 and Janko E 68921 and the existing photographs of them. As you indicate, there are two areas of concern: the potential identification of the officers by contacts made while working undercover, and possible inappropriate behavior between partners.
Our Social Media team has forwarded three photographs in particular that have appeared repeatedly online. They appear detailed enough to identify the officers. The officers' prior undercover work will be reviewed to assess the risk posed to them and any of their informants. I must stress that while we cannot prevent citizens taking photographs at public events, allowing two officers with a history of undercover work to participate in what was essentially a public relations visibility event was perhaps unwise. We cannot afford to be cavalier with such assets.
As to the conduct concerns raised by these photographs, that will require a second investigation. I request both officers be available for interview tomorrow, Monday 4 December, by phone or in person. I suggest that they not be reassigned until this inquiry is closed, to prevent any appearance of intentional obfuscation of events. This is going to take enough sorting out.
Sincerely,
Sgt. Foster"
"Well," Jamie says, leaning back against the wooden office desk and crossing his arms, "That tells us not much of anything except IAB saw fit to have the techs look us up online on a Sunday, and arrange to come interview us. And that Tony's not completely pissed."
Eddie pockets her phone. She scoots her bum up onto the desk and sits with one foot swinging, the way she does when she's thinking hard.
"That's something. I care more about that than IAB, to be honest. I mean, what can they do, split us up? We've done that. Suspend us? Maybe, but not unless someone out there completely misinterprets our involvement in the Beattie case and makes a big thing of it. We should do something nice for Sarge. After this is all over. The last thing we need is for IAB to think we're bribing the boss."
"I bet he could make a box of cannoli disappear before IAB sees 'em."
"There is that."
"So we're still partners, until tomorrow morning. And we still don't know if we're in any sort of actual trouble."
"And since Tony hasn't made any announcements, nobody in your family will hear anything until tomorrow, either, unless the kids spill that we've been out here all weekend."
"I think only Nicky figured it out, and she's not going to say anything."
"We're basically stuck in limbo, and can't even bitch about it to anyone."
"Yeah." He blows out a breath. "Which sucks. I don't like not knowing what I need to be planning for at work. And I feel like it puts everything with us on hold, too. This Sergeant Foster is right. If we're split up as partners right away, in the middle of all this, it'll look even worse to anyone asking questions later. And there's no way to know how long this is all going to take."
"Acting in good faith is why Tony's taking our side," Eddie agrees. "Going to him right away saved our asses."
"At least if IAB asks around, the entire house can honestly say we've always acted like we do, and it's never been more than two friends keeping each other going."
"Except it's always been more than that, and we're finally owning up to it," Eddie reminds him. She hops off the desk and stands leaning into him. "But I guess that better stay between us a big longer. For now."
"I just – " He opens his arms, and she steps closer willingly, leaning her forehead against his chest and sliding her hands under his jacket where it's warm. Linking his fingers in the small of her back, he rests his cheek against her soft hair, and sighs. "I know you're what you're gonna say, Eddie. But I don't want to have to lie to anyone. We're worth taking a little more time over to do it right."
"Yeah, yeah, you big ol' Boy Scout."
"Eagle Scout."
"Whatever," she grumbles, "When you're right, you're right. I don't want anything sticking to my record, either."
"But here's the thing."
"What?"
"They can't stop us feeling. Or thinking. That's nobody else's business."
"That is true."
Oh, God, that softness in her eyes when she smiles at him like that…
"We're in here," he goes on.
"Yes..."
"And nobody even knows where we are right now. Nobody saw us come in. We're basically in a parallel universe. Nothing that happens in here has any effect on the world out there."
"You think that'd stand up in Court, Counselor?"
"And by my watch, we have six minutes left of coffee break."
"Ohh. I get it. You wanna go upstairs and get a coffee?" Eddie grins up at him, her palms sliding up his chest in a way that sends tingles deep into the very core of him, right through his shirt and sweater and leather jacket.
"No," the word rumbles out of him.
"You wanna kiss me in Church?" she smiles up at him in pretend wide-eyed shock. "Jamie Reagan! And risk having to lie?"
"I'll go to Confession if I lose sleep over it," he says. "Anyway, it isn't a church anymore. C'mere."
His fingers catch the golden tumble of her hair as she stands on tiptoe and tips her head back, already a little short of breath and laughing as his mouth finds hers, jealously stealing what time they can from the world. She's warm and pliant in his arms, pressing closer, and her kisses are so sweet, so deliciously greedy that he knows with utter certainty that he's kissing the real Eddie, the one who hides underneath all the bravado and bluster. The one who'll be waiting there, in the world where things matter, if they can be patient just a little while longer.
He lets his hands drift slowly down her back, and then tugs her hips up against him, and he feels her breath turns to excited little pants as she opens her mouth to him. He takes everything she's offering and then some, and oh, God, she moans into it almost despite herself, sending him nearly out of his head. He pulls back to drag in a breath, just enough to get by, and takes her mouth again with an urgency she meets with her own, deeper and deeper. It's got to end soon, but not with her clutching his jacket to keep herself upright, making those sounds that he desperately needs more of. Just for a flicker of an instant he imagines sliding his hand down into her jeans to take care of her, but the very thought sends such a dizzying bolt of hunger through him that he knows they have to stop, now.
A shiver ripples through him as he releases his grip, his nerves firing all over. He holds her loosely, letting her lean against him just as he's propped up against the desk, none too steady.
"That much, huh?" she manages to gasp, with a short huff of laughter.
"That much," he whispers against her mouth, low and harsh.
"Glory, Glory, Gloria," sings the choir, in the old Sanctuary overhead.
Just like a real case interrogation, they've told the story three times from beginning to end, and Dad and Grandpa and Aunt Erin have double-checked their details and corroborated their evidence multiple times, even passing around Sean's and his cellphones. Sean's message about Marjolaine being dragged away, that came to him instead of Uncle Jamie, has been scrutinized by everyone, even before dinner.
During dinner, the interrogation eases back and becomes more of an informal interview.
"You remembered the family emergency code under that much pressure," Pop says proudly, his eyes crinkling at Sean as he passes the salad. "Well done."
"I mean, we've pretty well had it programmed into us since we got our own phones," Sean mumbles, pleased.
"Yeah, and that's why you remembered it when you needed it," says Dad. "Reinforcement and practice. Muscle memory."
Starting an emergency text with "911 SOS" is Reagan-speak for "I'm not being held hostage, I'm able to text with my own hands, but I need you here, now, and 911 is the next call". The rest of the message is supposed to be brief and contain only critical information. If the code is the entirety of the message, the sender can be sure that the signal will be triangulated and pinged in short order.
Life With Father is slightly different with NYPD and military dads heading up multiple generations, Jack thinks.
On the long drive home, Dad had seemed like his old self, cracking jokes and issuing completely over the top Marine commands when they made a pit stop. With everyone safe under his eyes, Dad can relax, even congratulate them both on making a good call. The only dim spot of the entire drive was when he bought them chocolate bars for the last leg home, and started to say , "Don't tell Mom I got you guys – "
Jack was on the verge of automatically promising, "We won't," and then it hit. And then it really hit, with all the lights displays and store windows as they got closer to the city.
First Christmas without Mom.
They'd walked back to the car in silence, the three of them. Mom and Dad had always been such a contrast that they were predictable, balanced even in the things they disagreed upon. But now it's just them. They'll be at Grandpa's for dinner, as always, and Aunt Erin and Pop will try to copy Mom's special Christmas recipes, but Mom won't be there.
None of the others have mentioned Christmas dinner or Midnight Mass, but he and Sean keep catching each other's eyes across the table. They know. Then Nicky intercepts a look. First she smiles, proud of them both and still hyped up on the whole abduction event, but then she takes another look, and she gets it, flicking a glance to where Mom used to sit. She nods very slightly, so that not even Aunt Erin sees it. But Dad does.
"Boys?" he asks, during a lull in the conversation. "Something going on?"
"Not really," Jack replies, slicing into his pork roast. "Just…Mom. Imagine what she'd say about all this."
Knives and forks fall silent for a moment. They're getting used to this kind of conversation stopper, as someone invokes Mom's presence during events like school uniform fittings and Thanksgiving football scrums in the backyard. There's usually a sombre pause afterwards. But something weird happens this time.
The thought of Mom hearing about he and Sean chasing down a bad guy who's in the process of abducting a girl their age suddenly hits him as darkly hilarious, and he hastily stuffs some dinner into his mouth. It's too late. He can't help but see his mother's expression and hear Dad's voice trying to reassure her, and Mom spluttering that they're only kids and they shouldn't be playing cops, but then turning to hug them tight before yelling some more…
He grabs his napkin and lets out a helpless guffaw along with some mashed potato that he didn't manage to swallow in time. He turns scarlet with an awful combination of embarrassment and shame and oh, God, it's too good, and Mom would eventually see the funny side, too, and…
"Just…Mom's face!" he manages, between gales. "Sorry! I'm sorry, but she'd be all over the place – "
Nicky gets it, and then Sean. The grownups look at them like they've all gone mad, before Aunt Erin shrugs and sips her wine and says, "Tension release?"
"In this family?" Dad retorts, and suddenly everyone's losing it, one after another. It's painful and good, somewhere between laughter and tears, and it's taken all this time to get here.
"She'd be all, 'I'm never letting you out of my sight again!' one second and 'I'm making you lasagne!' the next," splutters Sean. " 'I'm telling all the neighbors you saved that girl and I'm so proud of you but you're totally grounded!' "
"Oh, man, she'd be wailin' on me for raising you boys too tough one second, and raving about how great you turned out the next," Dad manages, wiping his eyes, in laughter and in sorrow, but for once, not in grief.
"Well," says Aunt Erin, as they settle down somewhat, "Clearly you all deserve Linda's lasagne, and I happen to have the recipe, so count on that for next week." She anticipates the mixed reaction from him and Sean, because she goes on, "I'll make it here, and Jack and Sean can come early and help me, because I know it won't really be the same as hers without them."
"Me, too," says Dad. "About time I learned to do more than just fry stuff up for the filling." Dad's latest kitchen experiments haven't been half bad, and the family seems to approve of this plan.
"And Uncle Jamie will be back then," Sean says, "He always has seconds of Mom's lasagne."
"He's a growing boy," Grandpa says complacently, as if Uncle Jamie isn't inching closer to forty. "Plus, he and Eddie are still running around all day. They burn it off."
"They sure do," Sean agrees, "Eddie says she did twenty thousand steps in one day on security patrols, and that was before dinner."
"Oh, I'm sure they keep each other running around," Dad mutters, and Aunt Erin covers up a snort in another sip of wine.
"Though who's running after who seems to depend on the day of the week," she says.
"So guess what," Nicky blurts out.
Aunt Erin swivels round and eyes her. "What? What's so important all of a sudden?"
"Well – it's just," Nicky says, toying with her fork. "I might sort of meet up with one of the musicians we saw. When he's playing here in January."
"Musician?" Aunt Erin repeats.
"One of The Boots," Nicky confesses. "He offered to get me into their next show for free, and I think he sort of wants to take me out."
"Another recruit?" Pop asks, confused. "I thought you were done dating cops, young lady. Didn't you want to be one instead?"
"No, I mean, it's a band called The Boots, not like, a new recruit. He's the keyboardist."
"No way!" Sean says, "The dude with the wild red hair?"
Grandpa's grinning broadly. "Erin, I do believe your daughter wants to date a rocker. Hark, is that the sound of your chickens coming home to roost?"
"Dad," Erin growls. "Nicky, tell us about this keyboardist."
"His name's Dale."
"Last name and date of birth?" Grandpa and Dad ask in unison. Nicky rolls her eyes.
"I don't know. It's just a concert, maybe coffee or pizza after, that kind of thing. But yeah, he's a musician, and you guys would really like his stuff, honest, it's – "
"I'm not sure that my liking his music is necessarily a criterion for approving of you dating a part-time wannabe rocker," Erin says, "But you're twenty-one. There's not much I can do."
"It's not necessarily a date," Nicky fusses.
"Wait, was that what he wrote on your CD?" Sean asks eagerly, "He invited you to a gig as his guest?"
"Uh huh."
"Sweet!" is Sean's verdict.
"You like this Dale guy?" Dad asks Sean. "Got a good vibe off him?"
"Yeah, sure. He's kind of dorky. I mean, he plays keyboards and I think he's, like, a Physics major in college, but yeah. Pretty chill."
"And you wouldn't mind me dating a Physics major," Nicky points out.
"With a ponytail and earring," Sean adds.
"Ponytail?" Grandpa repeats, grinning again at Aunt Erin, whose face is resting in her hand. "Earring?"
"Nicky, you may as well go and enjoy watching this Dale and his band with my blessing, since your grandfather is already having too much fun with this."
"What was the name of your ponytailed, chain-bedecked, studded-leather-pants rocker boyfriend again?" Grandpa asks, "Luther?"
"Lorcan, and he was a nice Irish Catholic boy, Dad."
"With a double-neck bass and a mullet."
Jack's been all but silent during this unexpected swerve in the conversation, wondering what Nicky's up to. He rewinds back to her first interjection, and it clicks into place.
Uncle Jamie and Eddie. Nicky's in on it, too. Maybe she and Eddie talked last night, or maybe she figured something out on her own, but she's trying to draw off the heat.
Smiling to himself, he makes sure to start talking again so that nobody tries to dig into his head next. He catches Nicky's eyes and nods slightly, and she nods back. When they volunteer to take on dishes for the night, nobody seems to think anything of it.
They don't need to say a word. But at least it's okay to grin excitedly at each other, with the kitchen door closed.
She lets him drive the first stretch home, because she's been doing all the driving, and she likes watching his hands on the steering wheel. She rolls her eyes at herself for being jealous of a car, but there it is: he handles Silver Belle with an attentive lightness of touch that's different from the way he drives his Mustang, and it makes her a little buzzy. She never really un-buzzed after that electric kiss in the old church. She has a sudden flash of Jamie tinkering away under the hood of his car, his sleeves rolled up, maybe a bit streaky with oil and grime, maybe a bit hot and disheveled from the work, and she has to shake her head at herself.
It's already dark, at five-thirty, and getting darker fast. The clouds are rolling in now. No more shooting stars, no more sitting in a secluded pullout with the top down and telling stories. Not for a while, anyway. She thinks back to just two days ago, when they talked about taking a long summer drive. She's as certain as she's ever been of anything that they will, but what happens in between now and then?
There are no streetlights along this section of the highway. Just headlights and taillights strung together like Christmas garlands in either direction, and bright cat's-eyes marking the lanes in between. With the thick forests of national parks on either side of them, it feels like they're flying easily through a maze of lights.
"Speaking of parallel universes," she murmurs.
He smiles in the dark. She doesn't have to explain.
"Music?" he asks.
He's been thinking of their drive up here, too, she can tell. How the memory of dancing together last winter brought back every breathless touch and tease, their hands speaking a whole other language despite their words, and the bone-deep wrench at ending things just as they had a chance to begin.
What a difference two short days make, she thinks. Those memories of last year, and the cathartic bloodletting of old body-trauma last week could have left her raw and bruised and alone, but instead, Jamie was there, steadfast, right where she needed him to be. They were both keenly aware that there was a moment of possibility at hand, an opportunity to take if they chose. For once, they didn't let it go by while they sat, silent and desperately wanting.
She flicks on the satellite radio to the same station they listened to on the way up.
"—make the Yuletide gay,
From now on, our troubles will be far away…"
"Oh, I've always loved this one," she sighs happily.
"Me too."
"Hey," she says, a thought striking her suddenly. "Christmas."
"Yes…?" he looks over at her in brief confusion. Then: "Oh! Christmas."
It's been a long, long time since either of them had a special person to spend Christmas with. Jamie will always have his big family, and she's not entertaining any visions of being invited to spend Christmas with them just yet, but it'll be wonderful to have little things to plan and do together. Whether they get sent to different houses (don't think that, she tells herself firmly) or assigned to different shift rotations, there will, at least, be a few hours here and there they can spend together.
"Jamie. Let's go dancing again. Whatever else is going on."
"Definitely."
"And we'll be back here in three weeks."
"Mm hmm." He slews a sideways look towards her and she giggles out loud. He doesn't have to say another word. They'll be back anyway, for work, and clearly they're only going to need one bed at a time. But there's a good chance they'll be able to be together publicly and in good conscience. The thought sends a delightful stomach-flip of anticipation through her.
"What do you usually do?" she asks. "Christmas dinner, and I guess Midnight Mass, knowing your family?"
"Yeah, pretty much. We usually meet up for Mass and then either crash at Dad's or come back to the house in the morning. When the kids were little, we used to all stay over at Dad's the night before. Sometimes Linda's niece Sophie came, too. Grandma would stay home and read them "A Christmas Carol" while the rest of us went to Mass. They'd be in sleeping bags around the tree, when we got back, and we'd take turns sneaking in and out with filled-up stockings. If they were really out cold, we'd put gifts from Santa under the tree, too, or we'd pretend to find them in sitting room in the morning. Packed house, totally chaotic, but so much fun. Mom and Linda were in charge of all the cooking, and we'd all have scheduled shifts in the kitchen to go in and help them. We'd just graze on snacks until the massive turkey binge. Two big turkeys and sides like you can't believe. Usually everyone would stay that night, too. Dad and Grandpa wrangled Boxing Day brunch, then a bunch of police and military brass would stop by for a drink, and we'd all drift away at some point."
"You couldn't have been that old yourself."
"Not really. I was, what, just seventeen when Erin had Nicky. Sean was born right when I was finishing my B.A., and he was the last arrival. Guess I've always been in between the generational layers."
"Well, it seems to work. Those kids adore you."
"Helps not being another Dad, that's for sure. Jack especially, he could use a big brother."
"He is so like you."
"He looks and sounds almost exactly like Joe did before he went into serious training. It's a bit creepy."
"You think he'll join up?" she asks. All three kids would make great prospects, she thinks, but Jack is something special. He'd be a great addition to the force, but she hopes he takes advantage of college first. He's the type who commits entirely to everything he does, and if he becomes a cop before college, he'll probably never go.
"He's always going back and forth, but I think something'll probably come along to settle it one way or another before long," Jamie says. "Like me, as you say. Sean, though, that kid has military all over him. He's got the character. He needs the discipline, and to be kept too busy to get into trouble. I think ROTC's a good bet for him, actually. He wants to go into Engineering, and that plus officer training would basically give him a career structure for life."
"And Nicky?"
"Nicky…" he ponders that for a moment. "She'd be a great cop if she put her mind to suck it up and take orders. Honest, Eddie, I think you'll be the first one to know what she decides to do. She's looking for some solid advice, and she's been hearing from family all her life. She needs some new input. I'm not sure she's over that ride-along we brought her on, though. Maybe you'll do better with that with just the two of you."
"That actually sounds kind of fun."
"She's grown up into a pretty neat kid," Jamie says. "What about you? What's your favourite Christmas memory?"
He does not, she notes, ask her about her family's Christmas traditions. He's very tactfully trying to take her back before things went to hell.
"You remember I said the biggest problem was that they're all good memories?"
"I do. I'm sorry if I overstepped."
"No, no. But Christmas is a shining example of that. There was only Mom and Dad and me, but we did everything. The Nutcracker Ballet, skating outdoors, shopping trips like you wouldn't believe. They hired professionals to do the tree and decorate the house, and hosted catered parties every other night. Christmas dinner was just another fancy party. And they made me feel like the princess in the middle of it all. You know how little girls all want to wake up and find a pony? I actually got the pony. Her name was Briar, and she was my show pony for four years till I outgrew her. And then at some point I clued into the whole capitalist wasteland of it all, and I said something, and it was like all the air went out of my father. All he wanted was to make sure I never wanted for anything."
"I'm guessing you were off to college not long after that, anyway?"
"Not long. I came home for the holidays, and I noticed they'd stopped hosting all the parties, but we still went to the ballet or a Broadway show. And we'd usually have Christmas dinner in a nice restaurant instead."
"Still sounds pretty great."
"Oh, it was. I thought they were scaling back because of what I said about not wanting so much of the presents and spending money on each other, and wanting to spend more time together instead. And that's how it worked out, but I didn't know at the time that Dad's business was starting to go under."
"So I guess it's just been you and your mom, lately?"
"Yeah, and Bradley, last three years. I guess…I mean, I haven't actually seen Mom in person since I went home last Christmas. It's really quiet out there, but they seem to like it. We watched Casablanca and It's a Wonderful Life." She looks over at him. "No Midnight Mass, though."
"I figured probably not."
"We should probably talk about that at some point."
"Probably."
"You ever dated a non-Catholic?"
"Well, there was old Dana." He grins lopsidedly. "She liked you, you know."
"Oh, Dana. She was a real sweetheart," Eddie grins back, "Whatever happened to her?"
"Married a corporate lawyer who's trying to shame industries into accepting environmental standards."
"Jamie! You converted her."
"No, no. Maybe. I may have nudged her a little."
"She was trying to impress you."
"Well, she succeeded. She's doing some good work out there herself. But I haven't heard from her in a couple of years."
"And the rest have all been good Catholic girls?" she teases.
"I guess, yeah. I wasn't the type to put myself out there in high school, so I dated the girls I knew from school and church. Just happened to work out that my first college girlfriend was Catholic, and then I met Sydney. Who was more Catholic on the outside than the inside."
"How'd you mean?"
"She was good at talking the talk. But she wasn't one for getting her hands dirty or actually getting involved in hard issues. I don't mean like she was all thoughts-and-prayers-are-the-answer, but she liked things kept neat and tidy and safe. Catholicism – mine anyway – is a lot of hard work and not getting complacent."
"I do appreciate that about you. Wherever it comes from."
"Thank you. That's a very inclusive way of putting it."
"Well, we didn't have a lot of religion or faith in my family," she says, in something of a rush. She's on the atheistic edge of agnosticism herself, but the solid bulwark of the collective Reagan Catholicism makes her feel both a little uneasy, and fascinated that such ferociously bright people would consider themselves among the truly faithful. What, she wonders, do they find among the layers of myth and meaning, and all the contradictions within the scriptures themselves, to sustain their faith?
"You mentioned both your parents escaped when the religious persecution got bad."
"Yeah. Only my mom ever told me some of what she actually remembers, but I've done some reading. I can't imagine living through something so awful."
"I, uh, I did some reading on that, too."
"You did?"
"I wanted to know where you were coming from," he says, "I mean, literally."
"After the Serbian trafficking gig?"
"Yeah."
"Huh," she considers. "You never told me that. How come?"
"My family doesn't do privacy. I wanted to leave you yours. And we weren't…"
"We were kinda scratchy with each other back then."
"Yeah. You know, I meant what I said. It wasn't that I didn't think you were ready for it. If I'd been in charge, I wouldn't have approved the operation at all. Too many unknowns, even with the girls at risk."
"I know. Really. But we did pretty great."
"We did. I think that's when I knew for sure we were solid."
She smiles, but it soon drops. "Hey, Jamie."
"Mm."
"You know it was a radical nationalistic Catholic movement that was the behind the terrorism my parents were fleeing. When I say it was bad, Jamie..."
"The Ustaše. Yeah, I know."
"Is it going to be an issue?" she asks, point-blank, because here in the dark, flying through the night in their parallel universe, she can feel her heart pounding and her stomach knot up with the importance of it all, and still ask these things.
"No," he tells her, instantly.
"How do you know? Your family – "
"Knows that good and bad people exist in every faith and branch of science."
"That's not the same as accepting someone from outside…"
It's not that her courage fails her, exactly, but they're nowhere near this yet.
Or are they? Jamie reaches over and takes her hand. He brings it to his lips and kisses her knuckles, and a shimmering tingle spreads out from his touch and makes her inhale swiftly.
"If they don't, then it's time they did. And if it's me who has to make them see it, Eddie, I'm game."
There's a child in her arms, and she's not certain if it's hers, but it's certainly in her care and keeping. She's got to find them shelter, and soon. It's getting dark and the streetlamps have all gone out in the rising wind. The child isn't crying, but is staring around with large blue eyes. It reaches up its arms to ask to be put down to walk. She's reluctant. It's cold and shoes are too expensive. Only the older children who are at work need shoes. The little ones, still in school, go barefoot like all the rest of the village.
The little rickety houses, pieced together hastily of whatever wooden supports and boards can be salvaged, seem to melt away as she and the child walk past them. Every tiny picket-fenced front yard is the same, a few flowering shrubs in the corners that were too deeply rooted to clear out, and the rest given over to a few miserable vegetables. Cabbages and potatoes, swedes and parsnips. Not much else will grow in the rocky, poor ground, even with the night soil from the families that live within. Your body can't shit out nutrients you can't afford to eat in the first place.
She's wearing two cotton summer frocks and a cardigan sweater, one on top of the other, in hopes of retaining a little warmth, but it's useless. The only warmth she feels is where the child presses against her. She hobbles along in too-tight summer slippers wrapped over and over with old-fashioned foot-cloths for warmth.
They're nearing a friendly house, she and the child. Maybe they can take shelter in the lee side of the house, just until the storm passes. There's a light in the window. Someone is awake there.
Then a face in the window, looking out, checking up and down the pounded-dirt road.
That's not the face of a friend. The house has been taken.
She doesn't know of any other safe houses left. Where can they go?
She looks down at the child. It wasn't hers, but it is now. She can't leave it. Even if it means making herself vulnerable, unable to move quickly, she can't leave the child now. It's as much a part of her as if she birthed it herself, like the one that is no longer.
The child smiles and opens its mouth to speak. All that comes out is a creeping grey mist with sound hidden underneath it.
Eddie gasps and flips on to her back. Her heart is thumping hard and her face and chest are clammy with a cold sweat.
What the hell?
She blinks and rubs her face. Her tank top sticks to her uncomfortably, and she sits up in her bed, looking around at the familiar shapes of dresser and chair, mirror and nightstand.
It's been a long time since she had anything like a nightmare, and she doesn't remember ever having one like this. Of course she knows where she was supposed to be – clearly, her mental images of her grandmother Marija's ordeals in Priejdor have been given new energy by the revelation that Jamie's aware of them, too. But she didn't think she was that anxious about it.
That's not why, though. It's Monday morning. The day when everything changes.
She eases her legs out of bed and grimaces at the cold. It's four in the morning, and she has to be up by six. She can't count on getting back to sleep again, but at least she got to bed at a decent hour last night. After she dropped Jamie off at the station house to pick up his car from the compound and drive himself home, she'd come straight home with a quick stop for an Indian take-out dinner. Curry and the nine o'clock news proved to be a good sleeping aid in combination, and she was fast asleep half an hour later.
And now this.
She gives herself a shake and throws off the covers, letting the chill of the air do the rest of the job of waking her. She might as well call it a night and get up.
In a few minutes she's parked on her couch with a cup of coffee and the television on mute. There's been no mention of the abduction attempt in the news, which is a good thing. She wonders if Sergeant Clare withheld the release of any details to the media. She could get away with that, Eddie thinks, given that the only witnesses were a bunch of stoned teenagers, the victim, the suspect and those trying to intervene.
It would certainly help her and Jamie's cause with IAB if there is next to no possibility of linking photos of them looking too friendly at the event with the arrest later on. But they can't count on that, not yet.
She really doesn't want another partner, she sighs to herself.
She flashes back to the dream-child in her arms, the one she didn't give birth to herself, but picked up and became determined to care for. Does the adopted child represent a new partner, after the loss of the first? she wonders. An interloper and a burden at first, but soon a beloved responsibility? Perhaps.
She's always thought that the idea of a ticking biological clock is a patriarchal myth, something that women are supposed to factor in to whatever career decisions they make, just in case they suddenly get overwhelmed with the need for a child. A silly and self-limiting concept. But tonight it slides into her mind as something of a puzzle to solve. How would she make that work out? What would she need to have in place for it feel like a good time to have a child?
The thought of physically carrying and giving birth to a child is something that she's kept firmly at arm's length her entire life. She's never been the type that needed to be a mother to feel complete, and with the sense of physical power and connection she's had with her body since she first started training for the pre-Academy physical aptitude test, she hasn't wanted to change her relationship with it. She admits that despite the entire world lineage of female animals giving birth, the whole process and the pain and deeply personal fuss involved freaks her out.
Watching Little Eddie make his peaceful way into the world, and especially watching his mother recognize him as hers and fall headlong in love with him, has overlaid those thoughts at the weirdest times, ever since. Not just because Jamie seemed to be just as stricken by the idea – she always knew Jamie was destined to be a dad, some day – but that she's come to realize that she can't imagine being a mom with anyone but Jamie. And that that's been true for a long time.
She wants that.
The thought hits her right in the gut. Not right now, but sometime, and with Jamie. It's not that she needs to be a mother, exactly. If she did, there are plenty of ways she could do that all on her own. But having a child, or children, with Jamie, would be a natural extension of the deepening of their relationship. She wouldn't want to undertake parenthood with anyone else. And she has reason to believe that he feels the same way.
Of all the things to be thinking about before a day of IAB interviews about the propriety of their relationship…
She takes a sip of heavenly hot coffee and allows herself just a few minutes to curl up and really contemplate all this before setting her sights on the day ahead.
Erin's the last Reagan mom left, a disquieting thought at the best of times. What does that mean? Does it mean anything except that the family has a tendency to run towards danger? But no, that can't be right. Only Joe died in the line of duty. Linda died in a horrible, tragic accident. Jamie's mother, Mary, died of cancer, and his grandmother Betty of heart failure and old age.
Is that a gap she wants to help fill? And need she always think of being with Jamie as joining the Reagan family, and not Jamie joining hers, such as it is? They're such a strong force that it seems almost like an oath of allegiance instead of being in a relationship. It's going to take all her strength of character to navigate being a decidedly non-Catholic appendage to the family and to go up against them if the need arises, as it does now and then in every family.
I need to get really drunk with Erin, she thinks, and decides that that's the only conclusion she can come to today.
Time to get ready for a potential battle with IAB.
She sends a quick e-mail to Jamie, which won't wake him up as a text or call would.
Hey. Call me when you're up. Power breakfast and strategy meeting.
He responds in two minutes: I'm up. Pietro's opens at 0530.
See you there, partner.
"Good Monday morning, people. It's a beautiful day in Manhattan and the holiday tourists are arriving. The mayor sends her thanks to those who were on duty at the Spirit of the Holidays Parade and tree-lighting yesterday. Out of a crowd of five thousand, only thirteen arrests for public intox, two fights, a buncha lost kids and one unrelated stabbing. The guy's going to be fine, by the way, Carmody, and his wife says thanks for staying with the family at the hospital."
"Pleasure, Sarge."
Tony adjusts his glasses and does not look at Eddie and Jamie.
"Now, we got two of our people back from site-sec at the Montauk New Music Festival this weekend. Sergeant Clare sends her thanks to Twelve-D. What you all won't know is that these two helped prevent an abduction in progress by a wanted repeat offender out of Jersey, who has tried to snatch young women on several previous occasions. This report has been kept off the news due to the fact that Reagan and Janko have a history of undercover work, and there is no danger to warn the public about. Right place, right time, right training, right instincts. That's what it's all about."
He leads a small wave of applause, and watches his two lovebirds exchange a quick glance and shrug casually. It really isn't that big a deal, as solid an arrest as it was. Cops go into every public space expecting something to happen, and it becomes natural to dive in when it does.
"Now that said, with the new year and a new budget coming down, we need to be prepared to make some changes, and reorganize our resources as best we can. We have six new recruits starting with us in February, so some of you will be taking on developmental partners again. I know, I know. We were all there once. The following officers will be assigned to Training Officer status or other deployments. They will work in the house until February and help clear the year-end paperwork backlog. They are: Cooper. Johnson. Reagan. O'Reilly. Bennington. Janko. Kilsby. Winpenny. That leaves your partners looking for someone else to dance with. You'll get this in writing by close of day, but henceforth, Walsh, you're with Addison. Congratulations, you're now Twelve-Hotel. Lemire and Coughlin, Twelve-Sierra. Potimkin and Russell, Twelve-Lima. Each of these new teams and housemouses, come see me for ten minutes during today, please. Rest of you, go in peace, come home safe."
He raises a hand in priestly benediction, feeling more aged as this winter settles in than he's used to. The watch falls out of attention, chattering like schoolkids about their new assignments. It was quite a bombshell to drop, but it had to be done sooner or later. Teams need shaking up now and then, and he was able to preserve the partnerships that still have a lot to learn from each other, or who are simply riding out the last few years to retirement.
And Jamie and Eddie provided the perfect focal point to reorganize his teams, after all. He should have split them up years ago, but their work has always been reliable, and despite the constant house chatter, they've never crossed the line. In fact, part of the reason he's certain they've never crossed it is because of how they act together. If they were having a hot affair, they'd be hiding it. Instead they're out there every day, cracking jokes and reading each other's thoughts and getting up in each other's spaces and flirting in their own weird language after shift.
And then they called him to 'fess up and do the right thing, requesting reassignment, and his heart blew right up like the Grinch at the end of the story. They called him. They returned every bit of the trust he'd placed in them.
"Oh, my God!" he hears Walsh say to Janko. "They split you guys up? After all this time? You both gonna take on newbies?"
"Aw, we knew it would happen one of these years," Janko says, "We've talked about it. We sort of felt a change coming lately, anyway. Maybe it's time. Anyway, Addison's solid. You guys'll do great."
"He's a bit of a flyboy," Walsh opines, "I won't be letting him drive all the time. Oh, look, here's my new work hubby. Hey, Addison. Ready to roll?"
"Pardner, Ma'am," Addison tips an imaginary ten-gallon hat to Walsh and Janko, and moseys off with Walsh as they head to the bullpen.
Tony, wading through the thinning ocean of his people, smiles as he approaches Janko.
"You and Reagan come see me," he says. "I need to talk to you both about that thing." Janko nods, understanding.
"That was menschy, Sarge," she says, quietly. He pats her shoulder and heads for his office. If he's timed it right, they should have a visitor to the house in ten minutes.
There's no denying the fact that the pictures are, in fact, pretty cute. IAB's found six of them, taken on Saturday when they were still in uniform. They look like they always do on duty, but they've been captured in static moments of levity, or when they happen to be leaning close and talking. Jamie wonders if he can get Nicky to do some sleuthing and grab some of them for him to keep.
Then there's the shot taken just before they went off-shift. In fact, it could be argued they were already off-shift, having been released by Sergeant Clare, but before they signed off at the Security tent. But that's not a hair Jamie wants to split just now. The look on Eddie's face in the photograph – blissed out, as Erin put it – is causing the real Eddie to fidget beside him in her chair. Jamie's hand, in the photo, is resting just under her collar as they walk out together, a gesture that comes naturally to them now and then, but is somewhat unusual for partners on the job. Actually, Eddie was almost certainly mid-blink, but in that instant she looks a little stoned and smiley. It's just the new reality of a camera in every hand, these days.
Sergeant Foster, from IAB, doesn't care about logical explanations. That's not his job.
"So you were staying there both nights, and you expect me to believe you drove all the way out there to get a good nights' sleep before you started work?" Foster says, unimpressed.
"Exactly," says Eddie, from her seat in one of Renzulli's leather visitor chairs. Renzulli has put them both in his old worn, comfy chairs with the cracked brown seats, and placed Foster in the worst office chair they've got. It looks like special treatment, but it's a nice bit of warfare on Renzulli's part. That chair does not like to be sat in.
Eddie goes on: "We'd have had to leave home by five a.m. otherwise. We decided that driving out the night before would let us rest up properly for twelve hours of foot patrols. Here's the reservation I made, with the names of the owners. Called them maybe an hour before we left town. If they didn't have space, we'd just have left early instead." She holds out her phone.
Foster leans forward, gingerly, and makes some notes on the yellow legal pad resting on his crossed knees. "Mm hm. I suppose you have some sort of evidence you actually used both rooms," he says, sardonically.
They look at each other, and Jamie replies, "Actually, yes. Once we had the kids with us for the second night, my niece Nicky took the bed I'd slept in, so she could share the cabin with Officer Janko. Nicky knows both beds were slept in. We arrived at the inn at nine o'clock the night before, and we were out of the rooms by six thirty in the morning, ready for duty. Now if you want a minute by minute accounting, we can give it to you, separately or together, but we had showers, we had hot chocolate and talked until about ten, and then we both went to bed, alone. If you really want to call Dianne and have her hold the sheets for ALS screening, be my guest."
Foster actually looks marginally human, with a tiny lift to his cheek. "Of course. Harvard Law."
"Truth's truth," Jamie replies. "You want to know what we were talking about, we can piece that together, too, but you can check Eddie's phone browser history and see we were looking up information about the festival sites."
"And I was Facebooking, too," Eddie adds. "That's got time stamps."
Foster knows they're playing a game of chicken with the complete truth, but also that in the absence of recording devices in the rooms, there's not much he can do. He returns to the matter at hand.
"We'll accept that as a statement of fact," he says, "Then, you tell me, you had a sudden change of heart during the second night, and decided you needed to request reassignment, first thing in the morning."
"Yes, because while we hadn't decided to get into a personal relationship, we were moving that way, and we hadn't really had a chance to talk about it until this weekend," Jamie says, as if this should all be elementary information. It's certainly nothing new to Foster, especially since this is the second time through the whole story. "My sister informed us about the photographs. We didn't know whether Sergeant Clare would keep the arrest out of the media, and we wanted to get out ahead of that, and to do right by Sergeant Renzulli. Then if the media came calling, saying we were distracted by each other and left my nephews to fend off an attacker, we'd have proof that we were doing two things as best we could: doing our job during the day, and being honest with our boss as soon as we'd decided the direction we wanted to go in."
"Three things," Eddie points out. "You forgot getting to a crime scene in progress, while off duty, ahead of the uniformed officers who wouldn't have had a chance to get there even if the kids' calls all went to the right people. The security guard who left his post was the weak link that let Beattie drag Marjolaine to the back exit. Not us. And not the kids."
"That's great," Foster says, "That's just great. And you know what the headline will be if someone makes up one of those viral memes using one of those photos? 'Police sweeties in love' or 'Your tax dollars at work'. And then some kid who was at that festival recognizes you – or worse, some contact you made undercover – and we're all up shit creek."
Foster sounds like he's about to launch into a blow-by-blow exposition of some gory street scene, and Renzulli clears his throat. "Sergeant, you asked for all the undercover cases these two officers were part of. You'll see I've put any photographs at the front of the folders. Have a look how different they look on the job. Not just their faces. Look at them. I agree with what you said yourself, sir. They're a resource we can't afford to waste."
Jamie catches a flicker of triumph on Renzulli's face. They hadn't seen that play coming, and they should have. Instead of living under the shadow of being made as undercover officers – send them properly undercover?
He leans in and looks at the photos Renzulli is displaying. It's true that they resemble their officer-selves, in their various undercover roles, but he hadn't realized how deeply they inhabited those roles. Even as a partying couple in the drug bust a few months ago, they look like they might be cousins of themselves, perhaps. He looks like a bulky, angry frat-boy gym rat, and Eddie looks tiny and frail next to him, uncertain of herself. You wouldn't even match those body shapes with their actual selves.
"Now Janko here is maybe a year away from a recommendation to make Detective, with a specialty in undercover work," Renzulli goes on, as Eddie blinks in surprise, "And Reagan, well, you know Reagan. He says he's here to stay, but I'll eat my hat if he doesn't sit the Sergeant's exam or gets his shield once Janko moves on. So Foster, here's my proposal. You've heard what these two have to say for themselves. I believe them. How many other partners do you know who'd be so god-damned conscientious about trying to get together? Sergeant Clare is not anxious to have it spread around that her own officers got shown up by the Commissioner's grandkids. So why not let the Undercover unit take these two off my hands full-time for six months to a year, let them do what they want on their own time, and see what turns up online after that. The kind of danger you're talking about is so unlikely that these two would have to personally piss off a major player with financing and IT resources like I can't imagine."
"That's my job, to do the imagining," Foster replies drily. "Anything that might possibly reflect badly on the NYPD or the conduct of its membership is what I get paid to imagine."
"More than me, no doubt," Renzulli says, and sits back with a grin like Jamie hasn't seen on him in quite some time. He's enjoying this. Especially making he and Eddie sweat out all the details in front of him.
"Well." Foster closes his legal pad into a leather folder, and folds his hands together on his knee. "I don't have much choice but to believe the story these two officers have told. We are of course aware of Officer Reagan's somewhat inventive use of police powers while working previous undercover operations. If the unit is prepared to take him on assignment and deal with whatever these two have going on, I can shove this in a drawer for a year. But the first twitch of the needle into the red, Officers, and I'll be down here again."
Foster does, however, shake hands with both of them as he leaves, and if Jamie isn't fooling himself, he sees a desert-dry smirk deep in his cold pale eyes.
"I'll give him needles," Eddie mutters, "Bet he was talking about his dick, the way he was getting off on rattling us like that."
"Oh, probably," Jamie says, peaceably. He's in too damn good a mood, which just gets Eddie's back up further, and makes him grin harder. "Sarge. Undercover, really? I mean, you know we like that stuff, but will they want us?"
"Only been begging me for the last year and a half," Renzulli says, grumbling. "I told 'em I needed you here. And I do. I've got you until the spring shakeup when the Academy troop graduates, and then it's time to fly. One year assignment, on paper, but you know as well as I do that anything can happen in a year."
"Graduation day," Eddie says, catching his eye. "Like we said."
"Guess so," Jamie says. "So, Tony. You know we really were being straight-up with you, right?"
"'Course I know. And I don't want you thinking you gotta, you know, hold off whatever you got going on until February. I got paperwork here for you both to sign, stating that you requested reassignment of your own choice, not from any disciplinary action from me or anyone else. After that, you are no longer partners. You both just report to me and Lt. Shields, and believe me, we don't wanna know the details. Here."
He slides a folder across his desk and opens the cover.
Jamie looks over at his partner, and feels a sense of a chasm opening at his feet. But he also feels like he's got a very large triple-checked parachute strapped to his back, and it's Eddie.
He takes a pen out of the shirt pocket of his uniform, and clicks it open. As he pulls the folder towards him, Renzulli sniggers.
"I gotta say, kids," he tells them, "This is not what I imagined witnessing you two signing."
Eddie's inhale has just a bit of a squeak in it.
A/N #2: A heads-up, gentle readers, that we're heading into "M" territory from here on in. See you on the other side of the filter...
