The first thing Pete did was call Sally to see when she wanted him to go over to her apartment and to ask her what he could bring. All she wanted him to bring was himself. It was thoughtful of her to realize that he really wouldn't want to stop at a store tonight. The press conference was bad enough, but it was worse running into people who recognized him while he was out of uniform. Some of them would praise Pete while others would verbally abuse him; very few would leave him alone.
MacDonald had expected to find Pete in the watch commander's office, what he hadn't expected to see was the smile on Pete's face. You didn't need to be a sergeant to notice the complete turn-around of Pete's mood. He had been sitting behind the desk to use the phone, but Pete stood when Mac entered the office.
"Sorry Mac, I'll get out of your way. The inner office is empty." Pete had scattered message over the desktop; he was mostly working. Sally wasn't expecting him for over an hour so he was killing time returning phone calls and day dreaming about her.
"There's no hurry. I'm going to be here for a few hours yet trying to finish all the paperwork." Mac was giving Pete the once over, twice, trying to figure out the smile he saw. "You seem pretty happy for someone who got yelled at by a mob not an hour ago. What's up?"
"Nothing Mac, I'm just making the best of a rotten situation." Pete knew Mac was curious about what Sally was doing there last night but he wanted to keep that private, for the moment. He finished collecting his messages and tried to get past Mac, who was having none of that. The sergeant was an inch shorter than Pete, but was broad shouldered enough to block his friend's path.
"You are either crazy or something has changed in the last half hour. Fess up Malloy." Pete's attempt at a "Who me?" expression was negated by the big grin he wore. It had been a very interesting phone call. Mac kept moving to block off Pete's avenues of escape. "Do you want me to guess?"
"Maybe I'm drunk. Did you think of that?" It was a smartass remark, but they were alone in the office; no one else would hear it. Pete reached back and tugged on the top drawer of the desk. "Where did I put that scotch?"
"Cut that out before someone comes in here and hears you." Considering the laugher it was spoken with, the rebuke wasn't all that effective. Mac turned his head side to side, checking for people within hearing distance before adding to the conversation. "When you find it, I'll join you in the inner office to share whatever is left."
"OOOOhhhh. I'm going to tell Val on you." Pete wagged his index finger at Mac, much like his own mother used to do to him; still did some times.
"I'm safe as long as you don't tell Mary." It felt good to laugh; plus, it eased some of the worry Pete's friend had been feeling over him.
"No way am I telling her. Mary will stop feeding me if I get you drunk." Pete did pause to wonder when the last time was that Mac actually got drunk; most of the officers he knew drank in moderation knowing that they were always, technically, on-duty.
"How about helping me keep her happy? I've got a few hours' worth of paperwork to do before I leave." Mac set a large pile of reports on the desk. "If you have the time…." He left that sentence hanging like a carrot in front of a mule; he wanted Pete's help, but had hopes that he could catch Pete off-guard and find out why he was happy.
"I have an hour or so that I can contribute to the cause." Pete had glanced at the clock to be sure. He hated being late for anything but tonight especially. The two of them didn't say much while they worked although Mac did tell Pete that the review board would be meeting in the morning at Parker Center. That was a surprise; it was unusual for the board to meet so quickly after a shooting. MacDonald took it as a good sign while Pete wasn't so sure.
Pete set another folder on the "done" pile and stood up, pushing the chair back to its place by the wall; intentionally ignoring Mac's questions about his plans for the evening. He had ended up spending more time helping Mac than he had planned to; as a result, he didn't have time to go back to his apartment before meeting Sally. It wasn't a problem; Pete had worn dress pants and jacket with a tie to work that afternoon.
He parked the mustang on the street in front of her apartment building. It was U shaped and had a courtyard and pool in the middle. The first two people who spotted him were an elderly couple sitting in the shade. The woman, presumably his wife, whispered to the man and pointed a finger at Pete. A teenage boy stopped swimming to yell "killer cop" at him a few times. He almost turned around rather than let Sally's neighbors know that he was going to see her. Before he could do the noble thing and leave, he heard Sally calling his name. Pete shook his head at her, but he was smiling.
"You are something else, do you know that? I was about to leave before your neighbors saw us together." She took his hand, leading him into the apartment. From the corner of his eye, Pete saw the glare she was giving the teenager.
"I don't care what they think. Heck, I work so much that I don't even know most of their names." They had that in common; nursing, like police work were not 40 hours a week jobs. "Come on in. The food is getting cold."
"It smells delicious. What is it?" The small apartment was filled with the most amazing aroma. Pete's stomach growled in anticipation.
"Chicken Paprikash." She reached up to fix the knot in his tie. "You look nice. What's the occasion?" He loved the spark of mischief in her eyes.
"I've got a date later. Since when do you make Hungarian food?" During their brief romance, home cooked meals were scarce; cooking skills weren't high on her list or his.
"Then she can feed you." He leaned over and gave her a brief kiss. "or I can. Would you mind opening the wine?" The wine bottle and corkscrew were already on the table. Pete opened and poured the wine while Sally served the Chicken over a bed of dumplings.
By candlelight, they ate and caught each other up on their lives. By silent agreement, no mention was made of the night before. Sally told him about her family and provided him with the details for the wedding. Once again, she thanked him for agreeing to take her; going alone would have resulted in her aunts' speculating on the odds of her ending up an "old maid". Pete chuckled and refilled their wine glasses, expressing the opinion that she didn't look like an old maid to him. In turn, Pete told her about his campaign to teach Jimmy all the things a little boy should know, but wasn't told by their parents; how to sneak Oreos, making snow, blowing raspberries in church and crashing fruit displays being among them.
"You're terrible. It would serve you right If Jimmy told his mother who is teaching him those things." She wasn't really scolding him. In fact, Pete got the distinct impression that she performed that function for her nieces. She choked and shot wine across the table when he told her about Jimmy's new song and where he learned the word.
"Did you have to teach him that in English? I have heard you say that exact word in French." In fact, Pete knew that word in Polish, German, Hungarian, Latin, Yiddish, Italian, Gaelic and Spanish. Most of his childhood friends were either the children or grandchildren of immigrants and their kids shared the more colorful parts of their languages with each other.
They lingered over dinner but finally Sally got up and started to clear the table. Together they washed the dishes and put away the leftovers. She had told him earlier that one of her favorite movies was starting at nine; wine glasses and desert were set out on the coffee table. Initially, they sat a foot or so apart on the couch, but as they watched "The Court Jester" Pete put his left arm on the back of the couch; his fingers touching her shoulder. To the sound of Danny kaye babbling, Sally slowly shifted closer to Pete and he tightened his arm around her.
Sally had forgotten how good it felt to be in his arms. She was resting her head on his shoulder and using her free arm to loosen his tie. By the time she got his tie off and the two top buttons of his shirt undone, he was kissing her. She was running her fingers through the curly red hairs on his chest when the phone rang. That was another thing they had in common, a dedication to their jobs, so of course she answered it. The phone call didn't take too long, but by the time she was done, Pete was asleep on her couch.
She thought he looked kind of cute sitting there and turned off the television before sitting close to him. He stirred only long enough to wrap his arm around her shoulder before falling back to sleep. To the soft sound of Pete's snoring, Sally joined in the slumbering. The moon was high in the window when she was suddenly jolted awake by Pete's body jerking. He was still asleep; she could see the movement of his eyes beneath the lids and hear the muffled sounds.
Sally knew a nightmare when she saw one, but waking him up might be difficult. They had once spent the day at the beach when he fell asleep on the blanket. During a nightmare, Pete had swung his arm wildly as if he was hitting someone. She reached up to wipe the sweat off his forehead and called him by name. His eyes snapped open and he almost jumped off the couch in panic; only the weight of Sally's body against his kept him on the couch. His head moved back and forth; trying to figure out where he was.
"Shush, Pete. You're okay, you were having a nightmare. Calm down." He was breathing heavy, the vein in his neck visibly throbbing, but he nodded in understanding.
"Give me….a few minutes." Sally wasn't sure he was okay, but she had the idea that he might want a drink. Pete grabbed the water and quickly downed all of it. "Thanks" It took five or six minutes before Pete calmed down enough to talk.
"I know it's a cliché but it does help to talk about it." Sally was sure the nightmare involved last night's shooting; she had dreamed about it and she hadn't killed anyone. "Pete, please talk to me."
"You know what it was about." Pete was still sitting next to Sally on the couch, but he wasn't holding her any longer. He sat with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, rubbing his temples.
"I assume it had something to do with last night. Tell me. I want to help." Pete rarely shared his feelings with anyone. Call it the habit of an only child; you learn to deal with issues by yourself. He stopped rubbing his temples and looked into her face. He saw many things in those soft blue eyes: compassion, acceptance, honesty, trust and so much more.
"I was before the review board, answering their questions. The reporter Hansen, Mr. Fisher and Fisher's daughter, Sharon were the people hearing the case. The board usually meets alone with the officer, but in my …nightmare...there was an audience calling for them to charge me with murder. Sharon declared me guilty and sentenced me to death. I was being strapped into an electric chair when you woke me up."
"Oh, Pete." There were tears in her eyes when she pulled him into a tight hug. As he held her close, she could feel the tension leaving his body. Pete drew on her strength, using it to find his own. It was a strange feeling, one he hadn't felt since childhood, yet, it was different; his parents weren't the ones holding him now. There was a comfortable silence between them until a sleepy Sally broke it.
"It's blond" Pete quirked a brow; he was dumbfounded as to what that meant until she traced the line of his jaw with her index finger. "Your beard, it's blond. Isn't that weird?" Pete smiled, he wasn't about to point out that it was a weird time to bring up his chin stubble.
"Beards don't match the hair on a man's head." He had been told that once on a call. Sally slid her left hand into the open collar of his shirt causing Pete to twitch; he was ticklish.
"It doesn't match your chest hair either. That's sort of a reddish gold on top." Pete stopped her hand's downward motion by putting his over hers.
"I'll thank you to stop your search right where it is." He was laughing, but he still didn't let her put her hand any further down his shirt. She pulled her hand back before leaning up to whisper something in his ear. The kiss she gave him stopped any comment on his part, but it did nothing to quell the blush that colored his cheeks.
