A/N: I apologize for the delay, gang. My grandma has been very ill the last couple of months and I've dropped everything to help my mom take care of her. Thankfully, she's doing a little better and I've had some time to work on my fics again (Yay!)
This chapter is a little short, but it's going to lead into some major events. Please leave some encouragement at the door, I could really use it because I am damned near out of steam, for everything. :(
At any rate, please enjoy, as always.
The station seemed normal as they walked through the bullpen. The clacking of keys, the squeaking chairs and the constant rumble of dozens of different conversations was an ever-shifting cacophonous drone, one that, with a certain amount of practice, a person could easily tune out. Felicity kept her eyes roving across the cheap desks and piles of folders, anywhere but on the detective walking in front of her. Her thoughts were in tight lockdown, her face fixed in an almost pinched kind of blankness.
If she allowed herself to think, her mind was going to explore avenues better left alone, and it would show on her features. Better to wrap herself in this careful nothingness than to give Lassie one single reason to suspect what was going on behind the swiftly structured mask she wore.
The door to the chief's office was open and Lassiter immediately marched right through it, barely giving Felicity enough time to skirt through it herself before he was shutting it with a forceful bang. Chief Vick's brows rose in an expressive mixture of incredulity and disapproval at that particular display, but the detective was unfazed, crossing his arms loosely as his weight shifted to a more relaxed stance in the middle of the office.
"Chief," Felicity greeted coolly, coming to stand at the scowling man's side.
"Ms. Sawyer, Detective Lassiter. How's your hand?"
Felicity self-consciously slipped her bandaged appendage behind her back, her cheeks coloring a little at the other woman's probing look.
"I'm fine, Chief, thank you."
It was a bit cooler of a response than she'd intended, but if Chief Vick noticed, she didn't show it, instead leaning forward on her elbows and getting straight to the point.
"I believe I have some news for you that just might make your day."
Felicity felt a twitch jump just under her left eye and she wondered briefly if the chief was a betting woman. Instead of voicing that question, she simply tilted her head and assumed the appropriately intrigued expression.
"That so, Chief?" she asked politely, biting the inside of her cheek to keep anything else from slipping past, including the temperamental sarcasm that she desperately wanted to inflect into the question.
Her eyes flickered towards Lassiter involuntarily and she barely kept her irritation from showing. It was all his fault, dadburnit. The word choice was distracting enough to nearly made a smile flicker across her face. She hadn't heard that one since she left her grandpa's farm. The chief's next words squelched any warmth the thought brought her.
"We've got a lead on that Thompson case."
Lassie looked less than impressed.
'I'm all ears, Chief."
Felicity almost nodded in agreement, thinking better of the spite inspired motion at the last minute. Provoking the detective was probably one of the last things that she needed to do.
"Should I be present for this, considering that I'm no longer an active participant in the investigation?" she inquired in the blandest tone she could muster.
Chief Vick gave her a swift, hard look.
"Yes, Ms. Sawyer, you should. Despite your suspension, you have quite a stake in any findings the department may come up with. You are, after all, a victim in this case, are you not?"
Felicity winced. It was a sharp, albeit fair, point.
"Yes ma'am, I suppose I am."
As much as she was loathe to admit it.
The Chief nodded.
"Well then," she sat back in her large leather chair, "We received an anonymous tip last night."
Felicity strode out of the Chief's office with a glare that could have curdled milk.
"The gall of that...that...ARGH!"
None of the startled stares that followed her right through the bullpen until she stopped at Henry's desk. When she tossed another glare over her shoulder at them, eyes narrowing dangerously with a growl, gazes were hastily averted. A chuckle near her elbow made her turn around with an equally scathing scowl, causing Henry to hold up his hands defensively.
"Now I haven't done anything to deserve that kind of look, Flick."
"You're a cop, that's enough in my book right now," she snarled, jerking her chair back and flopping back into it with a huff. She hadn't even taken a breath before the guilt set in and she gave him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Henry, I shouldn't take my foul mood on every policeman in my line of sight."
"Especially handsome specimens like myself," he joked with a crooked smile, causing one to bloom on her own lips.
"Especially handsome ones," she agreed good-naturedly, the majority of her ill mood slipping away from her in that moment.
He leaned forward on his forearms, tucking his hands in the insides of his elbows as he did so, and his eyes fell on the bandages wrapped tightly around her right hand. His brows rose.
"Shawn wasn't kidding."
Felicity glanced down ruefully, lifting her injured hand up from her lap.
"No, he wasn't, unfortunately."
Henry shook his head, glancing up at the clock that hung at the far end of the pen.
"I'll make you a deal. You let me treat you to some lunch, over which you can tell me exactly what happened and what has got your skirt all tied up in knots."
She looked at him for a few seconds, biting her lower lip as she considered the offer. Then she nodded and sighed a little.
"Alright, it's a deal. If I don't talk to someone, I'm going to just flat bust." Her eyes cut across to the tall detective she could still see through the blinds of the chief's office. "And there are some aggravatin' polecats that I could use a little distance from."
She didn't see Henry follow her gaze, a tiny smirk crossing his features before he stood and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. Shrugging it on and smoothing his stripped red tie over his button down light blue shirt. Wisely, he didn't reply to her comment, other than to touch her elbow lightly to draw her attention away from the office.
The restaurant Henry picked was only a couple of blocks from the station and was as colorfully tacky as customers came to expect. Bright red paper lanterns that matched the polished mahogany framed booths, dark blinds keeping the room pleasantly cool and dark. Still, their waitress was nice and the buffet smelled amazing, so she didn't complain, her stomach letting out a gnawing gurgle. Holding a plate heaped high with shrimp fried rice, eggrolls, and crab rangoons, she slid into a booth near the back of the restaurant, opposite Henry.
Biting into the signature sweet crunch of one of her favorite treats, she felt another large chunk of her stress ebb away. The normal chatter that was part and parcel of eating out during a lunch rush seemed muted this close to the kitchens. Henry spun his fork into a thick clump of his lo mein.
"So...what's eatin' ya?"
Felicity grinned at him as she snatched up another rangoon.
"Don'cha think it's the other way around right about now?"
His lifted brows silently conveyed exactly how amused he was by her corny verbal sidestep. With a sigh, she dropped the delicious wonton back to her plate and flopped back against her padded seat. She didn't answer right away, her eyes focusing on the table in front of her as her arms folded loosely across her stomach.
"I reckon you already know that Chief Vick called me and Lassie into her office today."
He nodded, swallowing quickly.
"Yeah, you marched in there like a woman en route to her execution."
She snorted.
"Or something."
"So what'd she have to say?"
"Anonymous tip was phoned in last night. A man matching the suspect's description was scene lurking around another neighborhood across the city."
Henry's forehead creased as he slurped up more noodles.
"Well hell, that's a lead, at least," he suddenly paused, understanding dawning on his features as his lips curled into an amused, knowing smirk. "Oh, I see."
Felicity scowled and picked at her food, her cheeks heating as he started to chuckle.
"It isn't funny, Henry!"
To her surprise, he shook his head.
"No, it isn't, Flick, but can you blame Lassiter for leaving you behind considering your history with this case?"
Her eyes narrowed.
"What do you mean by that?"
He shrugged amicably before gesturing with his chopsticks.
"All I mean is, is that every time you go out investigating a lead, you need rescuing."
Rolling her eyes, Felicity plucked a shrimp out of her rice, her injured hand resting gently on the napkin covering her lap.
"That isn't exactly a fair assessment, Henry."
"Flick, if even half the princesses in half the fairy tales out there got into as much trouble as you seem to, there wouldn't be a single knight left to guard all the castles in Europe."
She grinned in spite of herself.
"A rather eloquent comparison for you."
"Just what are you tryin' to say?"
"Only that you constantly surprise me with your verbosity and wit, Henry," she teased. "Pleasantly surprise me."
"Not sure if I should be flattered or offended," he admitted with a small smile.
"Pick flattered, your food will taste better."
"Sound advice."
"Now who's surprised?"
"Only because of your age, Flick." His smile became warm. "Feeling any better?"
"Loads, although it's probably 'cause of these awesome rangoons."
He gave her a mock hurt look.
"What, and not the company?"
She raised her glass to her lips.
"As long as I've got sweet tea, any company is bearable."
"Alright, now I'm offended."
Their shared look only lasted for a minute before the chuckling broke.
When they returned to the station, Felicity was in a much better frame of mind, enough so that she even attempted to make new notes.
Chewing on the end of her pen, she examined her shaky handwriting. Each letter had been painstakingly drawn, but it was still a far cry from her usual, curling script. The clock on the far wall of the pen steadily ticked down the afternoon as she glanced through file after file. But while most of her attention was focused on the work in front of her, some of it was aimed at the doors leading out of the building. At every swish of air, she lifted her head and turned in her chair, searching faces for one in particular. Only because she was curious about what he found, of course.
As a heavy breath escaped her, she leaned back in her chair and tapped the end of her pen against her notepad. She glanced up at the clock and felt her improved mood slipping away.
What was taking so long? Did it always take this long to check out a lead, and a long shot one at that?
It'd never seemed to when she'd gone out. Maybe that was the biggest part of her souring temper; time seemed to be passing slower the longer she sat here. Henry had long since abandoned her for a bull session with some of the older detectives across the aisle. She didn't blame him for that, though, noticing with some fondness how years seemed to fall away from his face as he traded bullshit stories about seven-foot-tall perps, fifty car pursuits, and seemingly impossible busts.
He'd missed the job more than he'd have ever admitted, even to himself. And for some reason, that knowledge inspired her to draw up the similarity to a certain lanky, blue-eyed detective who was also more attached to the job than nearly anything else. Odd that she hadn't noticed it before, she mused quietly, the obsessive dedication, the tenacious footwork, the absolute, kept integrity of the faith placed in them by their peers and the people they served. Shoot, their badges could be used as flashlights, their regard for those shields was so high, she thought with a tiny smile.
A bang echoed from the direction of the doors suddenly and she, along with everyone else, jumped, heads whipping around as Lassiter's voice cracked over the buzz of the bullpen.
"Sawyer!"
Felicity grimaced as her injured hand smacked against the edge of the desk in her rush to stand up. Ignoring the painful throb, she met him halfway, notepad still clutched between her fingers. One look into his face and she knew something was bad wrong.
"What's going on?" He reached out and held her elbow, a move that took her by surprise. "Lassie?"
"We gotta go. Now. I'm gonna need you on this. You got your bag?"
"Hang on."
She rushed back to the desk and grabbed it up, stuffing her pad into its bottomless depths and hurrying to catch up to his longer strides.
"What'd you find?"
"I'll tell you in the car. Keep up!"
"Alright, alright! Keep your pants on!" she snapped back as she threw her bag into the car and slid into the passenger side after it. Her curiosity was drowning out her irritation, however, as Lassie stomped on the gas and tore out of the station parking lot.
She'd be cursing it before long.