All units respond to a hostage situation at 672 West Rosewood Avenue.
"Well, that's coming a bit late, isn't it? You're already here," Jane said and removed the radio from detective De La Cruz's utility belt and placed it on the bar. De La Cruz was the only one at the bar anymore, she'd agreed to exchange herself for the handful of people who had originally been held at the bar when the crazed redhead had demanded to speak with the lead detective in charge of handling Kassandra Good's murder.
"You could've just come over and talked to me, this was unnecessary, do you realize how stupid you're being about this?" De La Cruz grunted and rolled her shoulders a little, sitting on a stool with her arms stretched behind her and her wrists handcuffed to the railing running below the bar was more uncomfortable than she would've imagined at first.
"Well, that's a nice way to talk to someone who is holding you hostage and pointing a gun at you," Jane smiled sweetly and gently tapped De La Cruz's forehead with the barrel to emphasize her point.
"What do you even want? What is the point?" the detective snapped and yanked her head away from the pistol.
"I need to right a wrong. See, you're right, this wouldn't be necessary if it weren't for the fact that this became a rather public affair," Jane said, stood up straight and pocketed the pistol as she took a step away.
"If it hadn't, I would've done the sensible thing, I would've walked to the precinct and told you that you got the wrong woman, that I did it. But, my friend was publicly crucified for a murder I committed, yes, this is me confessing to it, listen carefully, so in order to set the record straight, I need to get everyone's attention, now don't I?" she spoke as she walked back and forth, limping a little because the prosthesis she was wearing wasn't her usual one, it was a temporary one, slightly ill-fitting, one she had been meaning to wear only until she'd have her own repaired, but that had been postponed for obvious reasons.
"There's your murder weapon," she said and tossed a gym bag onto the floor with a loud crash and a metallic clink as the pieces of her prosthesis clattered against each other.
"All right. You've made your point, and I'm not doubting you, okay? So, let's just... get to the station and you can give your statement and that'll be the end of this," De La Cruz tried to reason with her, suspecting it would be pointless but having to try anyway; if the situation escalated, it would end in bloodshed and she'd rather not see it happen.
"I told you. This isn't just about setting official records straight, this is about making sure the public knows the truth as well, I doubt you lot are likely to issue a formal apology for just assuming Harper did it and ruining her reputation, are you? No, didn't think so. Oh, look, your friends are here. Their response time is a joke," Jane scoffed as she heard the sirens and saw the flashes of red and blue light approaching. She grabbed the radio and held it in front of De La Cruz.
"Could you please inform your buddies that I'd like them to bring Helena Harper here, and make sure there's plenty of press to document everything too, I wouldn't mind them bringing over a reporter," Jane then said and pushed the button on the device, allowing De La Cruz to relay the message.
"Is this really necessary?" Helena asked when the uniformed officer told her to wear a bulletproof vest before she'd be allowed to enter the building.
"Yes."
"She's not gonna shoot me," Helena said as she tightened the vest, and the officer didn't comment.
No, Jane might not shoot her, but if things got ugly, who knew, maybe a trigger happy police officer would end up discharging their weapon, and the last thing the NYPD needed was an unholy amount of press witnessing them gun down an unarmed civilian. Or, that's how they would portray Helena as, she was sure. Ironic, considering the past few weeks they'd happily labeled her the danger to society.
Shortly after putting the vest on, Helena made her way over to the bar with Garrett and a reporter carrying a camera on his shoulder. Once they were inside, Jane ordered Garrett to join De La Cruz at the bar and proceeded to handcuff him, then told the reporter to sit at a table in the middle of the bar and document everything while keeping his mouth shut. He had no objections.
"Jane, what are you doing?" Helena asked her finally as she watched Jane work behind the bar as if it were the most natural thing to do right now, as if it was her place.
"What does it look like? I'm having a drink," she answered as she poured herself a pint and then proceeded to mix Helena a rum and coke before walking out from behind the bar and taking a seat at the table nearest to the bar.
"You know that's not—" Helena began as she joined her at the table, ignoring the offered drink. Now was not the time.
"I know, I know," Jane interrupted impatiently, drank from the pint and exhaled deeply after swallowing. "I didn't mean for this, I never meant for you to get in trouble, I didn't even know you were here, that you'd been at Good's place," she then said.
"I know you didn't, I didn't think that—" Helena began but Jane interrupted her again.
"Truth is, I didn't even mean to do it, you know. I didn't go over with the intent to kill her, I just... I saw her, and I saw how people were treating the case. The way it was worded in the news. 'Abused her position as a superior officer', do you know what that sounds like?" she asked, but instead of waiting for Helena to answer, she turned to look at Garrett and De La Cruz, telling them to answer the question.
"It sounds like she just made you clean toilets with toothbrushes," Garrett spoke.
"Yay, he gets it!" Jane applauded, her tone condescending and mocking. "Well, it went way beyond something as harmless as that!" she then snapped.
"I read the autopsy report, I figured as much," Garret muttered.
"And the most brilliant part is, our precious fucking army nurtured and covered for that amoral monster because she was one of their better tools. Thing is, Kassandra Good was smart, and she could be charming if she wanted to be, but even she couldn't have fooled people for that long because she practically flaunted what she was doing," Jane spat.
Helena inhaled deeply through her nose, anxiety beginning to claim a foothold as it kept circling her, looking for a way in, looking to make itself at home. Jane's reminders of Good and the things she did was bringing back too many bad memories.
All she could do was confirm Jane's words, because that was what Good had been like about it; she'd been shameless, she'd made it clear she was in charge and people would side with her, so it was pointless to report her actions. Helena still regretted believing Good's words, believing it had been her own fault. And she hated the question still lingered within her mind: had she encouraged it, had she done something to deserve it, had it really been her fault? She didn't think the doubt would ever fully go away no matter how much she thought about it rationally.
"Letting everyone know she could get away with it was one of her favorite power trips. You can bet your ass the army knew the truth long before it became a big public mess," Jane scoffed and took another long drink. "She wasn't the first, she certainly won't be the last."
"Maybe with this coming out in public, she could be the last," De La Cruz suggested, and Jane laughed bitterly.
"If you genuinely believe that you're the most gullible idiot on the planet."
"Jane, just.. this is enough, just end this and let's go home," Helena said quietly.
"Yeah... that's not how this is going to go down, you know better than that, Harper," Jane said ruefully.
"But it doesn't have to—" Helena tried but Jane wasn't interested in hearing her out. Instead, she stood up and turned her attention to De La Cruz.
"Let me tell you something, detective. You don't come back from the things Sergeant Good did to you and retain your humanity or even the slightest remnants of your fucking dignity."
"Jane..." Helena tried to interrupt.
"Shut up, corporal," she spat waving her hand in Helena's general direction, her attention still on De La Cruz. She leaned down to be able to stare right at her.
"You know, they told us we'd be greeted as liberators," Jane laughed mirthlessly. "And the stupid thing is, I believed it, I thought I was doing something good, something worthwhile, and that's how it works isn't it? For as long as you're over there, you're the hero, but the moment you come back, no one gives a fuck about you because you have already served your purpose," she said, stood up straight and turned, beginning to pace back and forth again.
"After you come back, people practically line up to thank you for your service, but that's it. You go through all that fucking shit, you do things... for nothing!"
"What did you do?" Garrett asked, having picked up on the slight hesitation, and Jane scoffed before theatrically clearing her throat and miming holding a piece of paper up in front of her face as if reading a statement from it.
"The investigation concluded that certain personnel failed to comply with the rules of engagement and the law of armed conflict. However, the investigation did not conclude that these failures amounted to a war crime," she began her dramatic quote. "The investigation identified seven U.S. service members whose conduct warranted consideration for appropriate administrative or disciplinary action. The actions included suspension and removal from command, letter of reprimand, formal counseling and extensive retraining."
"Fancy way of saying we admit our guys did bad things but we're not gonna do anything about it," De La Cruz commented. Jane nodded repeatedly, went back to the table and finished her pint before addressing Garrett again.
"To answer your question, I did nothing. Turned my head to look away at most. But the thing is, I was happy to do that."
"Why?" he asked.
"Because I hate them. I made a decision to be more than just a government stooge, I wanted to make a difference, what better way to do that than by stringing up every motherfucker threatening to turn the streets into war zones. You think it's a neverending battle, but it doesn't have to be, you just need to pick a fucking side and take action!"
"Jane," Helena said and she turned to her.
"Oh, what?" she snapped. "What, what! Love thine enemy? What!" she yelled furiously and stepped to Helena, reaching to grip her shoulders.
"Did you love thine fucking enemy when you saw the medics shovel bits of Maxima into a body bag?" she demanded.
"Stop!"
"Shut! Up!" Jane shouted straight to her face and Helena nodded, pinching her lips together, not just to keep from speaking but to keep them from quivering as she felt herself be on the brink of tears. The anxiety was getting worse, she was beginning to shiver and breathing was becoming difficult.
"So it's Sergeant Good's fault you like gunning down Afghan civilians?" Garrett drew her attention to himself, and Jane let go of Helena, turning to look at him instead.
"No, because unlike most people I am capable of taking responsibility for my own depravity. And that's why I'm here, I'm taking responsibility," Jane said and dug into her pocket, pulling out a neatly folded piece of paper which she then shoved into the chest pocket of Garrett's white shirt.
"My signed confession, and you already have the murder weapon," Jane said and kicked at the gym bag on the floor for emphasis. "That all you need?"
"It's more than sufficient," Garrett answered matter-of-factly.
"Great," Jane said, then went over to the reporter who visibly jumped a little when she turned her attention to him.
"And this is for you, a bit of a manifesto, I sure would appreciate it if you made sure people get to read it, it's a scoop," Jane said, gave him a paper too and then turned back to the others, put her hands on her hips and sighed deeply, as if happily inspecting her handiwork after finishing a big chore.
"I think we're done here."
Garrett and De La Cruz exchanged confused looks, and Helena frowned deeply. Something suddenly felt... off. She had no word to describe it, but it was an unpleasant cold feeling spreading in Helena's gut, and she became aware of her heart beating rapidly, her mouth being dry, her fists in tight balls, the aching pain from the injured hand being clenched roping up her forearm.
Rationally Helena knew it made sense she'd feel off, she was essentially in a hostage situation, but another part of her knew that wasn't the problem. She hadn't been worried coming in here, she hadn't sensed danger, but she was sensing it now.
Is it real? Or am I imagining it because of everything, am I imagining it because I've been traumatized and what Jane said is triggering something? Helena questioned herself.
"I'm sorry I got you in trouble, I didn't mean to," Jane then apologized to her, and despite all her efforts, Helena couldn't get rid of the unsettled feeling gnawing at her. Something was very wrong and about to get worse, but what and how, she didn't know.
"It's okay, I know you didn't do it on purpose, I forgive you," she said quietly.
"Thank you, that's all I needed to hear," Jane smiled, raised the pistol to her temple and pulled the trigger.
