It was four AM and the apartment was silent. So silent, had the occupants been awake they would have heard the small creaks and groans of the old, brick building. This was why, when there was the sharp, loud sound of a glass shattering, Jack McCoy immediately woke up, sitting straight up as he did so. He blinked hazily, trying to focus his thoughts and remember why he wasn't asleep. Then Jack remembered the sound of shattering glass and the fire escape next to Abbie's window.
"Abbie." He hissed. She did nothing. He leaned forward so his mouth was right next to her ear. "Abbie," he whispered urgently.
She groaned rolling away from him.
"Abbie, I think somebody is breaking in." He warned her. All fuzziness was gone from his brain and the possibility that there was a criminal inside had him on edge.
"That's great. I love you too." Abbie murmured, clearly half asleep.
Since he couldn't yell, Jack elbowed her in the ribs to wake her up. He must've done it harder than he meant to though, because she woke up immediately with a yelp.
"Ow!" She cried. He covered her mouth with his hand to silence her. She quieted down at this. She took his hand off. "What are you trying to kill me in my sleep?" She demanded. "Beat me then smother me?"
"Sorry." He apologized. "I heard the window break. I think somebody broke in through the fire escape." They both listened together. There was silence. Jack found this ominous. Then there was a slight creak.
"That might be out in the hallway." Abbie said. Her eyes were closed and her voice slow. He suspected she was only half-conscious.
"Or in the apartment." He added. He listened again but didn't hear anything. He found this ominous.
"Jack. You probably dreamed it, I'm going back to sleep." Abbie began to roll to the other side of the bed. His annoyance at her dismissal made it a bit satisfying when she accidentally rolled herself off the bed.
She landed with a thump and a yelp. "Quiet." He hissed, wishing she would understand how serious this was. Whoever was out there could be high. Have a gun or a knife.
"It hurt!" Abbie snapped, rubbing her back. "Anyway, I seriously doubt anybody is out there. Nobody robs a twelfth floor apartment."
"Maybe they're an iconoclast."
"Maybe they're imaginary." She parroted. "If there was somebody there we would hear them." Suddenly there was another creek and a light thump. He raised his eyebrows. "Look, I'll get my gun-" Abbie said through a yawn while getting off the floor, but he cut her off.
"I forgot about that fucking gun." He swore.
"That 'fucking gun' might save our lives." She had grabbed her pants from the end of the bed and was putting them on. He decided not to tell her they were inside out.
"Or it might go off accidentally, or get stolen by a criminal and kill us." He momentarily forgot that somebody was breaking in.
"Can we argue after we face the robber?"
"Sure. Sorry. Where do you keep it?"
"You know that safe in the drawer of my bedside table…"
"That's what's in there?" He exclaimed quietly.
"Oh, calm down." Abbie snapped. She was opening the drawer now and he heard the familiar ticks of a dial. She pulled out a large, black handgun. Then she climbed over him to the other bedside table. She opened it out, taking out six bullets.
Abbie straddled him as, with worrying speed and skill, she loaded the gun. He examined the gun more carefully.
"Is that a .44 magnum?" He demanded. "You could kill somebody if you shot that thing!"
"Oh gee, you think? You should write to Smith & Wesson with that idea," Abbie said sarcastically, rolling off him and sliding off the bed. "Besides, the safety is on. It's just to scare them." There was an ominous click. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to make sure my apartment doesn't get robbed."
She stood up, gun in her left hand. He grabbed her right wrist, pulling her back. "Don't go out there! How many homicides start with somebody saying, 'I bet I can scare them away! It'll be fine'" He whispered. He occasionally forgot that at times Abbie could be as arrogant as he was. This would have amused him if it wasn't going to potentially get her killed.
Abbie didn't even pause. "I have all my jewelry in the armoire in the living room. Some of them are my great-grandmothers! Plus, burglar's rarely have any weapons-"
"You also just said they rarely rob twelfth floor apartments." He interrupted. "So far your information hasn't been that reliable."
"Criminals know, as well as you and I do, that the jail time for armed robbery is far higher than unarmed robbery." Abbie continued, ignoring him.
"Nice to know they'll be punished adequately for our murder." He remarked drily, annoyed at her recklessness.
"I'll be fine. Besides, I've been shooting since I was twelve. I know what I'm doing."
Jack decided to put aside the fact that her parents had taken their twelve year old daughter to a shooting range for another time. "Good. Save the jewelry. You can wear it at your funeral." He quipped.
"The chances of me dying are almost zero." She retorted.
"Not impossible though." He reminded her. "And think, if you get shot or stabbed I'll have to call the police and everyone will know about us. You'll die known as 'that A.D.A who was sleeping with her boss.' Don't tell me that won't kill your parents."
"If they start saying shit, remind them that I was born six months after they got married." Then she marched out and he was left to scramble out after her in fear and frustration.
It was all rather anticlimactic when Abbie turned on the lights in the living room. Her window was indeed shattered, warm summer air blowing in. But there was not a robber. Instead, in the middle of the broken glass, was the largest pigeon Jack had ever seen. He had to look closer to confirm it was indeed a pigeon and not an owl, or a small cat.
"Man, that's a fat bird." Abbie remarked, gleefully. She turned to him, still holding the large gun.
Adrenaline still pumped through his veins. He took a deep breath trying to relax. "Would you put that down?" He demanded. She obliged, setting it down on her coffee table, murmuring something about 'liberal hippies.'
"You were right Jack. This is a pretty dangerous criminal." She teased.
"Could have been a deranged serial killer." He warned. "Or somebody high on meth."
Abbie leaned against him, yawning. Her bare skin was soft and warm. He put his arm around her thin shoulders. "Do you think my insurance will cover this?" She mused. "I think I'm only covered if it's my accident or a crime."
"Maybe it's an avian suicide bomber." He poked the pigeon with his shoe, making sure it was dead. Luckily it didn't move.
"Or maybe somebody shot it through the window." Abbie suggested half-heartedly.
"Why would somebody shoot a dead pigeon at a window?" He asked.
"A pet store employee initiation ritual." Abbie joked.
"Maybe." He agreed. Something else was on his mind. "You know this was our first fight?" He asked her.
She looked up, meeting his eyes. "Did that pigeon hit your head on the way in somehow?" Abbie asked. She looked both amused and mildly concerned.
"I mean our first fight as a couple." He clarified. He gave her a meaningful look.
"Oh, well. Since life is short" she gestured to the dead bird, making him chuckle, "Let's make up." She kissed him on the lips.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
"Look at us though. Reversing gender-stereotypes. The woman marching out to shoot the robbers and the man hanging back telling her to be careful." Abbie gave him a cheeky smile.
"Though, being a male boss sleeping with a female assistant, it probably evens out." He observed drily.
Abbie would have likely given him a saucy retort, but the sound of three sharp raps on the door stopped her. Abbie quickly left his side and looked through the peephole. "Come here." She whispered, waving him over.
He obliged, looking out into the hallway. The view was slightly skewed but he could make out two people, a young man and woman, standing just outside their door. When he leaned back Abbie began to reach for the doorknob. He saw she was holding the gun again.
"Don't open the door." He hissed. "Who visits a stranger at four AM?"
"That's why we have the gun!" Abbie retorted, seemingly not at all worried.
"Oh great, you can kill them. That's appropriate." He snapped. Jack loved Abbie, but hated her 'grab a gun and do it yourself' mentality.
"It certainly would deter robberies in the building."
"We shouldn't joke." He said. "Somebody could get hurt."
"All we do is joke." Abbie exclaimed.
"We're not going to rob you!" A female voice suddenly shouted. "We just want our bird back."
Abbie opened the door. "Jesus Christ!" A male voice yelped, apparently seeing the large gun. "Don't shoot! Please!"
"She won't." Jack reassured coming up behind Abbie. He elbowed her and she sighed, going back inside. "What do you mean you want your bird back?"
"We saw our bird fall through a window. We want to see if he's still alive."
"He's dead." Abbie said, a bit insensitively, coming back without her gun. Both kids still looked a bit nervous around her. Jack almost laughed at it. He sometimes forget what a formidable woman she was. "What do you mean your bird?"
"We breed pigeons." The man explained. "We were letting them out to fly. He made it a few seconds before he fell."
The woman shook her head in dismay. "Poor Lucky."
"Lucky? The bird's name is Lucky?" Abbie demanded. She sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Doesn't matter." She shook her head. "You're paying for my window."
Jack laughed. "Do you want the body?"
"Yes, please." The young woman said.
"Give me your names, numbers and addresses." Abbie instructed. She went back into the apartment and came back with a pen and some paper. The woman took it and began scribbling. Jack followed Abbie back inside. She was examining the bird. He went to the kitchen and grabbed a paper grocery bag. He put it on the ground and used his foot to shove the pigeon in.
The pair of young birdkeepers accepted the bag gratefully. "We're really sorry." The man said. He handed the pad back to Abbie.
"Thank you. It's no big deal." Jack said. "Honestly it's kinda funny."
He shut the door, laughing lightly. Abbie gave him a dark look, but it eventually broke into a smile. He put an arm around her and they surveyed the damage. Most of the window was still technically intact, though it had been split into tiny fragments.
"Who lets their pigeons out at four AM?" He asked
"Who breeds pigeons?" Abbie retorted. He chuckled.
"I'm happy this happened though." He said, smiling.
"What do you mean?" Abbie asked, looking up at him and frowning slightly.
"That we got to experience this together. I mean, we got to experience things together and make memories at work, but they were work experiences. We were colleagues. In this we get to share a memory of us having to work things out in a ridiculous situation as partners, not as colleagues. Honestly, that is one of the things I wanted most when dating you. To be able to share these odd life experiences with you. You know?"
Abbie was staring up at him, silent and listening. He blushed, unused to sharing feelings and feeling self-conscious. Abbie was silent for a second then responded. "I love that, Jack." She said quietly. Her voice was uncharacteristically quiet and gentle. "I never thought of it that way. But I'm glad you did."
He kissed her cheek lightly. The sun was beginning to rise, the sky turning from black to indigo. It vaguely reminded Jack of ink spreading through water.
It was going to be a beautiful day.