Disclaimer: Lethal Weapon is the property of FOX and Shane Black. I do not own the characters, I just like playing with them. :)
Key:
"Hi" – Speech
'Hi' – Thoughts
~8~
Chapter 2: Minutes, Hours, Days
~8~
Takes Place During the Pilot
3 Minutes
Three minutes after meeting my new partner, Martin Riggs, I knew he was crazy. I mean, who goes into a hostage situation with nothing, but pizzas and a charming smile?
Apparently, this lunatic.
From what I could hear over the wire, this certifiable idiot is suggesting that the robbers kill a hostage (to up their cred, he said) and is serving himself up as the sacrificial lamb! I've got no choice, but to breach the bank and hope for minimum causalities. I'm half way to the door when we all hear shots sound out. Seconds later, men and women are tearing out of the bank, screaming.
Then, the cowboy walks out munching on a slice of the pizza he'd taken in with him. "What the hell were you doing?" I demand. He just smiles, wipes his hand off on his jeans, holds it out to me, and introduces himself. It would have been nice if he had mentioned the damn bomb instead. The concussive force of the blast had me stumbling back with him being pushed into my arms.
"Whoa!" he exclaims. He steadies himself, hands still grasping my upper arms. He lets go of me and turns back to the now enflamed building. "Well, I'm impressed. Those guys didn't seem like they knew C-4 from clay," he says. Now whether he was talking to me or himself, I couldn't tell. He raises his right hand to shove the fringe of his hair away from his face. Then, he turns back to me and shows off that grin again. All I could do is stare at him. This man has almost gotten blown away (in more ways than one) and he is smiling! 'Oh, hell no! I didn't survive a heart attack to deal with this insane shit.'
~8~
30 Hours
Thirty hours after meeting Riggs I knew he had a death wish. True, the bank robbery and subsequent bomb should have been my first clues. Personally, I blame Avery.
After explaining to me how he would end his life, which was disturbing on multiple levels, the man is jumping out of and on top of moving cars. Moving cars! As my watch keeps going off due to my elevated heart rate (and I keep shutting it off), I pray that I can convince Avery to rethink this partnership. When the car that Riggs had chosen to ride on flipped through the barrier, I speed up, anxious to make sure the idiot was still alive. He is, surprisingly, and not too banged up for someone who had jumped from speeding car.
Riggs points to the man saying that he was getting away. Well, the bus definitely put a kink in that plan. "Huh," Riggs says. I look at him in what I know is disbelief. This man has killed 4 men in less than a day. This last one was hit by a bus and all he has to say is 'Huh'! He must have either read my mind or my expression because he replies to my speechless accusation with "What? I didn't kill him," before limping off.
'Well, Avery's not gonna believe this.'
Looks like my prayers are answered. Avery has dissolved the partnership. As we're walking out, I try to set some things straight, clear the air. The man seems to be a pretty decent cop when he isn't trying to get himself killed and I wouldn't mind working him again, just not as his partner.
At least that was my intention before he decides to judge me because I was scared. Damn right I was scared! Fear is a survival instinct, one that any normal cop would have. Just because something snapped in him and broke that instinct doesn't give him the right to judge whether I can still do this job. And I have no problem letting him know just that. He starts to walk away from me, then I mention the thin sheet and getting 'it' done. He completely stops. He turns and I expected anger, but wasn't surprised by the blank resignation in those eyes. "Okay, Roger," he says, giving a slight smile. He continued on to say that I shouldn't be out in the field, basically that I shouldn't even be here before walking out.
Well, I was right. He was one hell of a detective, especially since he'd managed to find one of my biggest doubts and throw it back in my face after just one day with him.
~8~
3 Days
Three days after meeting Riggs I find myself completely sympathizing with him, despite his craziness. He is grieving a loss I could only imagine and he is putting it into his work. As I'm standing at my door with the bottle of whiskey he'd given me, my mind flashes back to the suicide plans and the man saying that he missed his girl. "I am gonna see you tomorrow, right? You're not gonna go home and—" I imitate a gun going off at the temple. When he answers in the negative, I push it further. I state that he wants to, not really a question at this point, but he answers it as such in the affirmative.
That makes me wonder. It's not like he is lacking in the gun department given all the guns I found in his trailer and he has the money for burial costs (though he did say that he would have to check into the L.A. cost for such things), so why hasn't he done it already? Being the kind of guy I am, I ask. The answer is heart-wrenching and surprisingly the sanest thing the man has said to me in the last three days I've known him.
"Pretty crazy, huh?" he says with that sad smile. "That's probably the least crazy thing about you, man," I respond.
As he turns to walk away, Trish comes to the door. Somehow, in the span of sixty seconds, this man manages to turn on that Southern charm to talk his way into my house (again!) and into the scotch he'd brought me. As Trish goes to lead our guest to the kitchen (and my chance for my present goes with him), I couldn't help the small smile. Ever since that man walked into my life three days ago, he's been trouble. I don't know why I expected that to change now.
I shut the door and head to the kitchen, where Trish is reaching up into the cabinet for some glasses for the scotch. Riggs is sitting at the island, the bottle already open and ready. "You sure you should be drinking?" I call out. Though it was barely noticeable, the man jerked like I'd surprised him. 'Huh?' Tilting my head slightly in bemusement, I look to where he'd been staring and land on Trish. Well, that's not surprising given that my lady isn't wearing much to hide those beautiful assets of hers. What? Does he expect me to get all hot under the collar over him looking? Please! If I did that every time someone looked at Trish's ass (and what a wonderful one it is) I would have stressed myself into a heart attack fifteen years ago. Besides, I'm the one that gets to take that ass home, so I have nothing to worry about anyway.
I walk over and take the two glasses from Trish. I kiss her cheek, saying, "Thanks, baby." Setting the tumblers on the island counter, I grab my bottle of scotch from Riggs' clenched hand. "You want a drink, Trish?" I offer her.
She gave me that sweet smile and declines, citing the wine at dinner and an early morning as her reason. "I'm going to leave you boys to it. Good night, honey." I lean down as she rose up to kiss my cheek. She turns to my partner and says, "Good night, Martin."
He gives her this soft smile, different from the one he used to charm his way into my house, and responds, "Night, Trish." She walks out of the kitchen, the sway of her hips once again reminding me of exactly what I'm missing out on thanks to my unexpected guest. "Um, you gonna pour me that drink, Rog, or do I need to help you out? I mean I still got one good arm here," he quipped.
I turn my head back to him and pour the liquor in the tumbler until it was a quarter full. I hold the drink out for him. Just as Riggs is about to take the drink, I pull it back out of reach. "You didn't answer my question. You sure you should be drinking? You take those pain meds yet?"
"Aw, Rog! I didn't think you cared!"
"Of course I care. I don't want your crazy ass OD'ing on me. Now, answer the question," I demand, putting the glass down on the island counter.
He looks at the glass then at me. "Nah, Roger," he answers, that charming, joking smile transforming into the one he had given Trish. "I don't too much care for pills. I prefer to numb my pain the ole fashioned way," he explains, nodding toward the tumbler. Whether it is the soft smile instead of the charming one or the fact he called me 'Roger', I don't know, but I trust his answer and slide the drink over to him.
I pour up my own drink and raise the glass. "To our first case," I toast. He clinks his glass against mine and I silently add, 'And I pray the next one doesn't kill us.'
~8~
The End of Chapter 2 of Piece By Piece.
Thank you all so much for the kudos and the reviews! They really lit up my days and put a little fire into me writing the next chapter. :)
Until next time!