Disclaimer: I don't own Boomtown
9. Negotiations- Month Eleven
"McNorris, would you please leave me alone?" She asked with a heavy hint of frustration. She had been walking all day in these heels and her feet were killing her. It didn't help that she was practically racing around the department to get things done, and he was leaning over the opposite side of the filing cabinet bothering her. "I don't have the patience to deal with you today."
He rolled his eyes. "We have a case to prepare for."
"Eh!" She made a shooing motion. "It's not for two weeks and I have a photographic memory. Can't you just e-mail me about this?" She didn't have time to be modest today.
"No, I can't just e-mail you the prep time!"
She came up with an alternate solution. "Then we can do it tomorrow."
"I'm in meetings until nine tomorrow night."
Why did he always assume that she should make time around his schedule? She had her own schedule to deal with, and she found it as important as his. Then again, she wasn't an overzealous narcissist. She needed to break him of this mindset soon or he was going to drive her up a tree. "What do you want from me? I can't shove more hours in the day!"
"Can't you reschedule something?"
Um, no. "Like what? Mandatory counseling sessions? The other case we have in two days? The case I'm working on with Michael?"
He jumped on that. The DDA did not like that she was spending time, let alone helping, Michael Hirsch with anything. She didn't know what his problem was. Michael was a nice man. He did a lot of good work and she liked him. Michael was one of those people that radiated calm. He reminded her a lot of Jason. Her mind skittered away from that faster than McNorris attacked her new buddy. "That's the one-"
"Don't even start with me. I don't want to hear anything else about Michael Hirsh from you. He's a good man that's doing his best to help people, which is more than I can say about you most days." He clenched his jaw at the blunt assessment of his character. She put a file in the right place and shoved the drawer closed, nearly catching the elbow of his designer suit in the process. "I also have to finish a report to the state, peer review one for the Forensic Journal of Psychopathology, guest lecture at the college, get through the normal amount of work I have, get five separate profiles to different detectives, and go to precinct ten to deal with some sort of internal problem they won't even brief me on until I get there. Believe it or not, you are not on the high end of my priority list."
"This case could win me-"
"Seat for district attorney." She finished. "I swear if you say that about one more of your cases I'm going to knock you out with a baseball bat. That, or lock you in an interrogation room with Ray and watch from the window as you two work through your hostility in a more primitive manner."
Sitting down at her desk she pulled up a file and started typing so fast her fingers were nothing but a blur. "We can have a lunch meeting." He proposed magnanimously.
"I don't have time for a lunch meeting." She responded distractedly.
"Then dinner."
"No time! No time, McNorris!" She kept typing. "Should I say it in Spanish?"
She felt him eyeing her. "When was the last time you ate?"
"At some point in the past." She hit print and immediately jumped to the next thing.
"When, Darcy?" He pushed.
She started sorting through papers as she searched for her notes on her next session. She was trying to talk one of the newest cops here through his first shooting. Luckily, no one had died, but the young man was on edge from the incident and trying not to let his senior partner know. At least he was open enough talking to her as long as what they talked about stayed between them. "Lunch with you and Joel yesterday I guess."
"Darcy, it's Thursday."
"Umm, okay?"
"We had lunch Tuesday."
She glanced away long enough to shoot him a look. There was no need for him to play games with her. Not when she was this stressed out. "No, it was yesterday. Don't try to mess with my head."
He raised an eyebrow. "Check your calendar."
Growling at the interruption, she yanked the book out of her top desk drawer and flipped it open. Sure enough she found the man was right. "Fine. You win." She put the book away and went back to typing after yanking the notes from the pile.
He stood up. "Save whatever it is you're doing. We're going to get you food before you pass out. Even you can't survive on caffeine alone."
"Go away. I've gone longer without food. I'm good."
He leaned over the desk. "If you don't come and eat I'm telling everyone what you did."
"What exactly did I do?" She wasn't even slightly concerned with him. She hadn't done anything wrong. The only thing he could embarrass her with was her back, and for some reason she was sure he wouldn't tell anybody about that.
He shot her a shit-eating grin and mouthed a single word. "Franklin."
She met his eyes and knew he knew. How the hell did he know about Franklin? One little under the table deal to get a name in a rape case and he found out. So it wasn't strictly legal to neglect mentioning a few of the rat's extra curricular activities. It was for the greater good damn it, and some B and E's didn't seem so bad in comparison to the man she helped the department catch. She cursed him in her head and out loud. "You're a rat bastard."
"And you're hungry. Come on. Time for lunch."
Pressing her lips together tightly she saved her file and put her computer to sleep. Grabbing her bag she locked the door to her office and followed the DDA, fuming silently the whole way to his car. She didn't let him open the door for her like she usually did. She simply got in and slammed the door shut, nearly smashing his fingers inside. He snapped his hand back even as his lips twitched in amusement. He got in beside her and pulled out of his spot.
She refused to speak to him. He didn't deserve attention for this. The short ride to a nearby diner that they frequented was silent as she sat with her arms crossed. It was down time between lunch and early dinner and they got a table in the back corner without having to wait. The waitress took their order and vanished to get their drinks. Then she pulled out her PDA and began to type on it. She would be productive just to spite him.
"This is an interesting temper tantrum." He commented with delight. He was smug as all hell that he finally managed to really get under her skin. "I feel like I'm dealing with a teenager."
"Shut up. I'm not talking to you."
"There's the maturity I love to see from you." She ignored him and started on an e-mail. "I'm amazed anyone allows you to teach malleable young minds."
He could just bite her. She moved to the next e-mail and vaguely wondered if she could get an hour-long massage for her hands. Between typing, writing, and texting they hurt as much as her feet. The waitress dropped off their drinks and took their orders. She looked up from what she was doing to talk to the younger woman before going back to ignoring the DDA. Unperturbed, he started describing the case to her as they waited for food.
Despite her anger she listened to everything he had to say as she worked on her PDA. She was damn good at multi-tasking and she knew it. So did he. She was even more annoyed all at once. When he finished his tale he asked. "What do you think?"
"You could have sent me an e-mail." She said blandly. "Or better yet found a doctor. You know I don't have the credentials to testify as a medical expert."
"You've done it before."
"I had time to research that before hand and you had an Md on the stand too."
He sighed in annoyance. "Do you know what your problem is?"
"Yes, it's you."
He ignored that. "You need to relax."
"Or get rid of you. Either way." She sent the message she was working on and moved to the next with quick efficiency.
"Have you considered going to the bar and picking yourself up a man?"
She was torn between laughter and smacking him. "Sex with an anonymous stranger is your solution to my hectic schedule?"
"If that bothers you I'm sure you could find a man you know willing-"
"You know as fun as this conversation is, lets not have it." The last thing she wanted to talk with McNorris about, whose middle name was no doubt 'sex fiend', was her love life. Or her total lack of one. Either way, it was a bad topic to get into him with, and one she really didn't want to have to explain. The last thing she wanted at this point in time was a man in her bed with her. She would rather spend her sleepless nights alone so she wouldn't have to explain why she didn't sleep, the scars on her back, her fear of close physical contact, or the night terrors that inevitably woke her up when she did manage to fall asleep for an hour or two.
He smirked at her. "Darcy, you're wound as tight as a harp cord. I'm trying to look out for your mental well-being. You should be grateful. I'm the only one that is."
She snorted. "Yeah, sure you are."
He feigned a wounded expression. "Did anyone else take you out to get food?"
"No, they were nice enough to leave me alone so I could get my work done."
"You'd be more productive if you were relaxed."
"Uh huh."
He stretched out on his side of the booth. "I'll save you some effort. If you're looking for someone to help you relax I'd be more than happy to help-." She swayed a bit and held a hand to her mouth. He sat forward with a frown. "Are you all right?"
She took a deep breath and lowered her hand. "Geez, sorry." She sat back. "I just threw up a little in my mouth at the thought of you naked."
He rolled his eyes and sat back as her eyes danced. "A simple no would have been sufficient." She chuffed out a laugh and McNorris tried to pull his pride back together. "If you change your mind let me know."
"You're a man whore. Do you know that?" She continued to type on her PDA. "Not only would you give me some sort of disease you're out of my acceptable age range. That, and you're a pig."
"Your acceptable age range?"
"I refuse to see anyone more than ten years older than me."
"I'm thirty-eight." He said as if she had just told him he had a foot in the grave.
"I know how old you are, ghost boy."
"How old are you?"
"Didn't your mother teach you to never ask a woman that?"
Now he was leaning forward with interest. "You have to be at least thirty."
The waitress dropped their food off at that moment and raised a skeptical eyebrow as she heard what the man said. McNorris noticed even as the woman walked away. She slipped her PDA back in her purse and picked up her sandwich. Now that there was food in front of her she realized how hungry she really was. The DDA was completely distracted from his own meal. "You have to be at least thirty. You have a PhD and you've been working for at least four years." She simply ate her sandwich. "How old are you?"
She rolled her eyes and swallowed. He wasn't going to leave this alone. "Twenty-seven."
"Liar."
"I can see there's no point in having this conversation." Reaching into her purse she tugged her wallet out and tossed it to him. He flipped it open and pulled her driver's license out to confirm what she said. As he stared at it in disbelief she went after a french fry after locating some ketchup.
There was a slight pause as he verified that her ID was legit. "You're twenty-seven?"
She was pretty sure she'd said that already. "As of two weeks ago. It hurts me that you didn't get me a cake."
He rubbed his temples with one hand as he held the plastic card in the other. "What are you? Some sort of genius?"
"Yup."
Her bland answer threw him. He glanced up as he placed her card back in her wallet. "What's your IQ?"
"Why is that always the first question people ask? IQ is not the end all and be all of intelligence testing. All it does is determine if a person is capable of conforming to a standardized test. It doesn't address real world knowledge or common sense at all."
His lip twitched. "So what is it?"
She rolled her eyes. "One eighty."
He started to laugh. She shook her head as his chuckles morphed into full-blown belly laughter. Eating her food quickly she let him. She was more than half done by the time he calmed down. "Christ almighty, how do you relate to people?"
"I've never had a problem relating to people."
He went shrewd all of a sudden. "That's why you like the crazy ones."
"What?"
"They don't think like the rest of the population either. It must be a relief to talk to anyone that doesn't think the same."
"Ghost boy, that is really screwed up."
"Maybe." His eyes were sharp and analyzing. "But it's true." After a year and a half of knowing him she was well aware there was no point in denying something when he was looking at her that way. The man was like a freaking human lie detector. He shook his head. "And I thought I had problems."
"Go to hell-" Her phone went off and she pulled it to her ear. "Fox."
The captain spoke quickly. "Darcy I need you over at the precinct ten now."
"Why?"
"Gillespie locked himself in the office after stealing a gun from a new cop. He's threatening to kill himself."
"He did what?" Her voice was sharp and McNorris watched her.
"They need you there five minutes ago."
"I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Tell everyone to stay away from the doors." He responded with a hurried agreement as she hung up and grabbed her wallet out from in front of him. "You need to take me to my car."
"You didn't finish."
"I have to go." She tossed money down on the table, more than enough to cover their food and a thirty percent tip, and hustled him out. She refused to tell him what was happening as he drove her to the parking garage, and she practically leapt out of his car before it came to a stop. For some reason she felt better about going to a person threatening to kill himself than hang out with McNorris any longer. He was the only one to ever correctly identify why she liked her job so much.
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She sat silently in her car outside the police station as she tried to pull herself together. That had been horrible. She was covered in blood and she smelled like gunpowder and fear. To be honest she was surprised she wasn't hurt. Her jacket had a hole through it from the weapon Gillespie had used to shoot one of the cops who was trying to help her a moment before he shot at her. She managed to avoid getting shot herself by hurling herself behind a filing cabinet. Then another blast had gone off and she heard a thump. The next few minutes were a blur of adrenaline and patchwork triage as she tried to get the cops shoulder to stop bleeding until the paramedics got there. There was nothing anyone could do for Gillespie, not with most of his head splattered over his office.
She felt like she failed today. The situation had totally escaped her control. That shouldn't have happened, not after she'd spent more than five minutes with Gillespie. She was better than what the incident had dissolved into, a shot cop and a dead psychologist. It didn't matter to her that no one blamed her for what happened. It didn't matter that they had waited far too long to contact her, or told her far too little about her fellow therapist. She felt like this was her fault.
As she sat there trying to get her bearings and hearing back, the shooting had nearly deafened her in the small room they'd been in, her phone went off. Reaching over she smeared blood on her car seat and her purse. She'd left the scene as fast as she could, not even taking the time to clean up after trying to get the cops blood from leaking out all over the place. She wasn't a medical doctor, but she knew enough about first aid to at least help. After that no one wanted her at the precinct, she didn't blame them, so she retreated.
Picking up the phone, the blood spread out over the buttons and she closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to see it for a minute. "This is Darcy Fox." Her voice was heavy with exhaustion.
"Darcy? It's Michael."
"Michael?" She asked vaguely.
There was a slight pause. "Yes, we were supposed to meet forty minutes ago."
Her mind tried to catch up. "I'm sorry." She leaned back in her seat. "I was taking care of something. There was an emergency at the department."
"That's all right." She could hear a note of apprehension in his voice. "Can you come to my office now?"
She opened her eyes and saw her bloody hand holding the steering wheel. "I don't think that's a good idea." Her voice cracked on the last word and she cleared her throat. "I need to go home."
"Darcy, are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
"You don't sound fine."
Her phone beeped, indicating she had another call. She had no doubt it was her boss. "I have someone on the other line. I'm really sorry I missed our meeting. Tell me what time is good for you tomorrow and I'll be there."
"Darcy-"
"I really have to go. Bye, Michael."
She hung up on the psychiatrist and answered her boss. His questions were detailed and to the point. She was grateful for that, and her release from work for the rest of the day. He said she could give a full report tomorrow so she started her car and headed home. When she pulled into her driveway she saw that there was already a car there. She cursed as she shut off her own engine. The last thing she wanted was to deal with one of the cops, Hicks promised she would be left alone. Getting out of her car she looked around tiredly, and to her surprise, spotted Michael standing up from the bench she had on her small cement patio. His eyes flew over her and she froze in front of her car.
"What happened to you?"
"You shouldn't have come here." She said as she moved forward.
"I'm here now. I'm not leaving." No, he wouldn't now, not with her covered in blood.
"I know." Digging out her keys she spread more blood around as she unlocked her house. "Come in." He followed her and shut the door carefully behind him. She led him to the living room. "Make yourself at home. I need to clean up." She waved her hand. "I have sodas and tea in the fridge. Help yourself."
He nodded and she disappeared down the hall. She shut her bedroom door and went for her shower. Turning the water on hot she began to strip down and hurled her clothes in a corner. The suit was ruined. She didn't want it anymore anyway. She stepped under the spray of water and blood ran off her in a red wave. Disgusted with the sight, and the memories it was bringing to the surface, she closed her eyes as she got clean, using her memory and hands to find her soap and shampoo.
Twenty minutes later and she shut off the water, dried off, brushed out her short hair, and threw on some clothes. When she was done she padded out and found Michael flicking through something on his PDA. He heard her and ended what he was doing immediately. "Darcy?"
She nodded toward the kitchen. "I need something to drink."
Understanding, he nodded and followed her. She pointed to the bar stools and he sat as she pulled a coke out of the fridge. She didn't beat around the bush. "The therapist at another other precinct lost it. He shot one of the officers that was trying to help me talk him down before killing himself."
The man flinched slightly. "Is he alive, the officer?"
"Yes, but I'm sure he's in critical care." She was also sure that the man's shoulder would probably never work right again.
"Did he hurt you?"
"No, but he tried." She opened the can. "Missed me by about a millimeter."
"He tried to hit you?"
"No, he tried to shoot me." She stared searching for her aspirin. "I didn't take this job so I could watch more people die. Fuck." She found the bottle and shook two pills in her hand before downing them.
"More people?"
"Never mind."
"I don't think that's something that I can let you push aside."
"Michael, I like you a lot but you aren't my psychologist. You don't get to counsel me."
"Should I get you the number of someone that can?"
She barked out a humorless laugh. "No, thank you. I'm very aware of what my mental state is."
"Are you?" He asked with quiet seriousness.
"Yes." She took a drink. "I really am."
No sooner had she said that then her front door opened. She shook her head and got two bottles of water out of the fridge. She set them on the counter as the DDA walked in. He went stiff all over at the sight of Michael and glared. Hirsh was clearly trying to work out this unknown and unsuspected dynamic as David puffed up and walked in as if he owned her house. Oh, male posturing, it got old so fast.
"What are you doing here?" McNorris asked with annoyance.
Michael was calm. "I came to check on Darcy."
Blue eyes narrowed. "How did you hear about what happened?"
"I didn't."
He growled. "Then-"
She cut in. "As fun as listening to the two of you argue is could you do it elsewhere? I'm not in the mood for company."
David looked her over. "Are you hurt?"
"No."
"I heard he shot at you."
"He did."
His jaw clenched and he took a step toward her, as if to check her over. It threw her into a near panic and she jerked back, completely loosing focus on pretending to be normal and okay with having people close to her. It was unfortunate that both Michael and McNorris read body language so easily. The DDA froze where he was before moving away from her. Michael's eyes were sharp as she caught herself and forced herself to calm down. She pretended like nothing happened. "Look, I appreciate that you both came to check on me, but I'm fine and I really have to go get ready. I have to be at a class in less than an hour."
McNorris raised an eyebrow and Michael spoke even as he stood up. "Maybe you should cancel whatever class this is."
The DDA sent Michael a sideways look as what he said backfired. McNorris knew better than to tell her what to do without at least trying to bribe her and was waiting for her to go off on the psychiatrist. "I'm not cancelling anything." Her voice was hard and the man retreated at once.
"Okay." His response was calm and utterly accepting.
Her eyes narrowed. "Stop it."
"Stop what?"
"Trying to counsel me!"
"I'm not-"
"And now you're lying." She stated baldly. "Both of you get out of my house." She moved forward and they wisely fell back as she herded them to the door. "If you need something to do this badly then talk about the case you were telling me about at lunch."
"What?" McNorris asked.
"Michael could help you with it."
"No." The response was vehement. "I'm not working with him."
"Fine." They were at the door. "Then you can loose."
"I won't loose."
"What case?" Michael asked.
"There is no case for you to stick your nose in-"
"Play nice, ghost boy." He glared daggers at her as they got to the porch. "He's going to help us with it. He went to med school. He has a knowledge base that we lack."
"I'll find a consultant-"
"I already have." She said stubbornly. "You want to win this case so bad?"
"I don't want anything enough to-"
She leapt back in. "I thought this would win you a spot as district attorney?"
His jaw ticked. "And I thought I said that every week?"
Michael was watching them volley back and forth like a spectator at a tennis match. She put her hand on her hip. "Then I guess you'll have to ask yourself how sure you are this is the case that'll make it or break it. I'm not going to do any more outside research for you. I don't have the time to go digging through medical journals with all the other things I'm doing this month. Either Michael helps or I walk."
"You can't walk. This is your job."
"Ghost boy, how hard do you think it would be for me to find a new job?"
He growled low in his throat as they stared off. She knew she won already. McNorris knew damn well that replacing someone as helpful and trustworthy as her at this point would be impossible. Not only was her skill level higher than anyone else he ever worked with, they functioned well together. She was probably the best partner he'd ever had, or hoped to have again. She knew what happened to her today was working in her favor as well. McNorris could be nasty and selfish, but he had a protective streak that ran through him too and he had turned that streak so it was locked on her. Her being shot at and witnessing a suicide had him giving in with relative ease. Still, he had to put up a front to save face. "One case." He snapped. "That's it."
"Fine." She agreed. She turned to Michael. "I would really appreciate it if you would help us with this. It's too complex for me to get a handle on. I know you're busy too." The DDA rolled his eyes in disgust at her polite request to Hirsch.
"I'd be happy to see what I can do after all the help you've given me."
"Thank you." She turned her attention back to McNorris. "Get him the case file. We can meet Monday evening if it works for everyone. If not, text me and I'll rearrange my schedule." The attorney opened his mouth, no doubt to tell her he wasn't her secretary, before she continued. "Now I have to go get ready. Be nice, or so help me I will drop you like a bad habit."
He sent her a look that told her he would get even with her for this before turning and walking to his car. She shook her head and nodded to Michael. "I know he's about as placid as meth addicted bear, but he's not that bad."
"I'll take your word for it." Michael shrugged. "I doubt we'll ever get along."
"I have no doubt of that. I promise to be a happier person when we meet again. Sorry, I'm in a piss poor mood."
He smiled at her. "Don't worry so much. Anyone would be upset after the day you had. Goodnight, Darcy."
"Goodnight, Michael." She waved before shutting the door. She really needed to get her head on straight before she went to talk to a bunch of undergrads.
