"He had the worst poker face I ever saw. I'm a lousy player and I could bankrupt him." Sally was doing her best to get Pete to focus on happy memories of his late partner instead of the despair that hovered over him like a storm cloud. It was working; even so, she knew that Jean's accusation would win out. It was only human to feel guilty over Andy's death despite how he got killed.
Pete stopped talking when Barbara, the night nurse, came into the room; retreating into himself. Sally responded to a questioning glance with a shake of her head, signaling to the nurse that it was better to not ask what was going on. Barbara took the hint; going about her business of checking Pete's vital signs. Before leaving, she rechecked Pete's blood pressure. Sally didn't miss the worry in the nurse's eyes. That look confirmed what Sally was afraid of; Pete's blood pressure was way too high. Cuddled together as they were, she could actually feel how rapidly his heart was beating. No doubt, the resident on duty would be notified.
"Do you think Jean has said anything about Andy to Jim yet?" Pete couldn't bring himself to tell Jim what Jean had accused him of; anything said would have put Jim in the place of having to defend his wife. He knew that he couldn't control his temper if he brought it up to Jim. Things said in anger can never be fully taken back and he valued Jim's friendship too much to risk destroying it. They might still happen, if Jean tells Jim a version of what happened that didn't match the facts.
"She might not; not yet anyway. You did say that the nurse interrupted you two before she was done talking." Over the time they've been seeing each other, Sally would often reach a hand to Pete's cheek, rubbing her thumb along the stubble on his chin. Pete was so used to the gesture that it took him a moment to realize what she was doing this time; while her thumb was playing with the two day growth on his chin, she lightly touched his neck with her fingers.
"You could have asked the nurse if you're that curious…" Pete chuckled as he gently pulled Sally's fingers off his carotid artery. "…instead of trying to be sneaky."
"Sorry, I'm worried about you. Your blood pressure is too high. Didn't you see the way Barbara looked at you when she took it the second time?"
"I'm more worried about Jim right now than I am about my blood pressure." Normally, Pete would run his fingers through his hair when he was upset, but with Sally in his arms all he could do was to drum the fingers of his left hand on her back. "Things between him and Jean haven't been right for a long while. It goes back to our encounter with two guys named Norm and Steve. That's when she started hinting at her desire for him to take the investigators exam; to keep him safe."
"Didn't you tell me that she wasn't happy when he was working for narcotics?" Sally has been trying to piece all these facts together since she and Pete got together again. It would be a lie to say that she hadn't noticed the tension between the couple and, occasional barbed comment directed at Pete. For his own part, Pete let them pass; it wasn't worth it to say something.
"She wasn't. The hours were crazy and Jim hated working vice. He was always angry; that's when she wanted him to go back to patrol." Pete lived through it, barely, and he had trouble keeping up with the shifting moods of Jean Reed. "After I got shot the last time, Jean urged him to take the investigators exam again. The fact that Jim risked his life to save me added another log to the fire. It didn't help that Jimmy announced that he wanted to grow up to be a hero policeman like Daddy and Uncle Pete." He paused, taking a small drink of water. "You see, when he saw me go down, Jim acted on instinct; he didn't stop to consider what it would mean to Jean and Jimmy if he got killed. All he knew was that I needed him."
"When I heard what you did in the Reed's backyard, I didn't know whether to be proud of you, worried about you or mad at you for deciding to leave me." Pete tightened his hold on her as she began to tremble; they hadn't yet had this discussion. His memories of that day were still too fragmented for him to be able to confide in her what his thought process was at the time. "There are times when I want to knock some sense into your head; mostly when you talk about wanting to go back to work. Other times I am so proud of you that I could burst." There were tears in her eyes when she lifted her head off his chest to see his face. "Did you think about me before you decided to give your life for Jim and Jimmy?"
"Sally…" Pete hesitated, staring into those pleading blue eyes; how to answer that question? "I wish I could tell you everything that went through my head from the time Tony grabbed Jimmy until I tried my best to get myself killed, but I don't know what I thought." Pete reached up with his left hand to wipe the tears that were running down her cheeks. "What I do know is that you have barely left my thoughts since we got back together; I'm sure I didn't want to leave you but, you see, I'm also sure that Tony would have shot me no matter what I did."
"I think I understand." There was a wavering quality to her voice; an uncertainness in her words. Pete put his right hand on the back of her head, pulling her into a tender kiss.
"Don't you know how much I love you; that I want to spend the rest of my life with you?" Sally's hold on him tightened in response to that statement. It was the closest Pete ever came to asking her to marry him. He almost took that last step, but reality set in; until he knew what his life will be like once he's "healed", he didn't feel right asking her to make a commitment. Pete and Sally fell into a comfortable silence; it was an unspoken agreement to let them both gather their thoughts. At least it was quiet until Barbara returned with two syringes. She cut off the inevitable objections with a daring glare.
"The resident called Dr. Franks about your blood pressure." Already, the clear liquid was being injected into his IV port. "This will lower it. He also said to give you your pain medication since you are long overdue for it."
"I don't need the morphine." Pete pulled his hand back when the nurse went to switch syringes, but neither Barbara nor Sally, who wrapped a hand around his arm, were going to let him get away with refusing. "Women…."
"Oh…" Barbara turned before leaving. "Your partner's wife called the floor an hour or so ago, wanting to know if he was here."
O~O~O
Clang!
Clang!
Clang!
There are few things that rival the sound of a frying pan being swung into a metal door.
"Earthquake, what the heck?" That was the first thing Jim thought as he rolled off the couch and onto the floor. At least Pete had a nice soft rug to break his fall.
"You come out of there right now whoever you are!" Mrs. O'Brian's dulcet tone of voice greatly added to Jim's pounding headache. "The police are coming. No one breaks into Pete Malloy's apartment on my watch."
"Mrs. O'Brian. Please stop. I'll open the door as soon as I can get up." As he got to his feet, Jim took a second to check his watch: 2 am. Jean would be having fits. He hadn't meant to sleep on the couch, merely to calm down before going home for round two.
"Officer Reed, is that you in there?" Something told Jim that Mrs. O'Brian was still standing outside the door holding the frying pan in mid-swing.
"Yes, Mrs. O'Brian, it's me." He undid the dead bolt and opened the door; anxious to see if she had relaxed now that she knew it was him. Jim couldn't help but laugh at the sight of the older woman holding the frying pan like a baseball bat. She was already to swing for the fence if it wasn't him that opened the door. "I'm sorry to have startled you. If I knew you were home, I would have spoken to you before entering Pete's place."
"It's the middle of the night. Why are you here Officer Reed? Pete didn't send you to check up on me, did he?" Jim opened the door wider, inviting her in while at the same time taking the frying pan from her hand. "He worries about me a little."
"No, he asked me to pick up something for him. I fell asleep on the couch by accident." Jim cast a glance heavenward, silently praying that she didn't ask what Pete sent him to get.
"It couldn't wait until morning? Doesn't your wife want you home by now?" At times, that old woman seemed to be conducting an IAD exam.
"I'm sure Jean will understand my falling asleep. It's been a rough few weeks." It was a good thing that Mrs. O'Brian was short as it gave Jim a chance to look past her for something to "bring" to Pete.
"I'm surprised that she didn't call here looking for you…." She let that carrot dangle for a long enough pause to be uncomfortable. "You wouldn't be hiding here after another fight, would you? It's not nice to lie to an old woman."
"A fight?" He was sure that Pete hadn't spoken to Mrs. O'Brian about his domestic problems, so she had to be fishing. "Of course not."
"Humph, you've been around Pete Malloy too long. He is a lousy liar too. Do you think I haven't noticed that you sleep here sometimes?" She stood with her hands on her hips, daring him to deny what she thought was obvious. "That wife of yours needs a good talking to; chasing you out of your own home. What about your little boy?"
"Where I sleep and when is my business. Do you mind if I get what Pete wanted and leave?" Jim snapped at her without thinking. That old woman hit a nerve; not bad for someone swatting at flies.
"He can wait till morning." She put a hand on Jim's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Even Mrs. O'Brian occasionally knew when she crossed the line. "Me, I'll mind my own business. If Pete lets you stay here sometimes, that's between the two of you. Good night Officer Reed."
Jim's ride around town had given him time to come to one conclusion; he didn't know enough about what happened between Pete and Jean. Maybe he should have stayed home long enough to find out everything that happened - according to Jean but she had caught him off-guard. He also found himself doubting her veracity and objectivity; a fact that bothered him greatly. Honesty and trust had always been part of their marriage. Was it still?
Why hadn't Pete told him that she accused him of getting Baxter killed? During the last few years, Jim did notice that Pete, other than making the couch in his apartment available on little or no notice, tried to stay out of his marriage. He saw how much what Jean said had hurt Pete; how painful those memories were to him. Yet, his friend didn't slam his wife. Was Pete protecting Jean by his roundabout method of explaining how Baxter died? Was he protecting their friendship?
Clearly, both of them owed him answers, tomorrow. For now, Jim grabbed a blanket and lay back on Pete's couch; the thought of using Pete's bed made Jim sick to his stomach. If Jean wanted him, she could call him. Where else would he be?
