CHAPTER 4: TANGLED WEB
"Father, can I talk to you in private please?" Rey was waiting for Father Morelli as he opened up the church. He tried to ignore the growing pain in his stomach, the sense of dread that he felt. This would work out somehow, he told himself. There had to be some way to get through this. Other people committed adultery and their marriages survived. So would his.
"Of course, Rey," Morelli took him into his office, absently thinking that he needed to speak with their building superintendent about the screen in the second confessional. Some kid had put wads of gum in the form of a happy face on it two days ago. Some parishioners had been hard-pressed to stay serious during their confessions yesterday. And others, actually having serious things to talk about, didn't much care to confess with a big globby happy face staring at them.
"Father, will you hear my confession?" Rey asked, looking away from him. Father Morelli nodded, a little curious. Some parishioners preferred to confess face-to-face, especially for more serious transgressions, but Rey had always been content with the regular confessional. He put his surplice on, sitting down, indicating the space in front of him. There was a chair there if Rey chose it. Face-to-face confessions didn't require that the penitent kneel the whole time, since they could get pretty long. Rey ignored the chair, knelt before him and crossed himself slowly.
"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been three days since my last confession," he took a deep breath. Father Morelli suddenly noticed that he was looking nervous, as he'd never seen Rey look before, and he felt a flicker of alarm. Rey swallowed hard. Time to own up to what he had done. "I..." he took another deep breath and said quickly, "I committed adultery."
For a moment the words literally made no sense to Morelli. Then they did.
Oh my God.
Father Morelli looked at Rey, head bowed before him, looking down at the floor, and felt his mouth drop open. Then he felt his stunned amazement give way to absolute fury. Rey? Rey Curtis, with the pretty young wife, with the three beautiful little girls, Rey Curtis whose biggest complaint in life was that his partner was a twice-divorced recovering alcoholic whose sense of humour was a little hard to take sometimes? Rey Curtis, who three days ago had confessed to fudging the truth to get out of a tedious social commitment, swearing, and saying a couple of unkind words to his partner, who probably deserved them?
An adulterer?
How DARE he?
Rey knelt, head bowed, waiting for Morelli to speak, heart racing, but in a way, a little relieved. He'd confessed. He'd taken the first step in trying to deal with the damage he'd done. Whatever happened now couldn't be as bad as knowing that nobody knew, nobody except him and God knew of his sin, everybody thought things were the same as they had been yesterday morning.
Father Morelli was still staring at Rey. To anybody who didn't know him, Rey would have looked fine, a little nervous, but probably just waiting to see how long it was going to take him to do his penance and whether he'd still be able to catch his favourite TV show when he was done. But Morelli knew Rey, had known him for six years, and knew his normally slightly arrogant, self-confident expression and body language. Now he knelt and looked like he'd just confessed to murder. Which in a way he had, Father Morelli thought. He'd killed a perfect marriage.
No, that was unkind. He thought of his own advice to Rey - you haven't lived his life, you shouldn't judge. He quickly got a hold of his anger and shock.
"Tell me what happened," he made his voice soothing.
"I don't know... I don't understand how I could have done what I did."
"Start at the beginning. When did this happen?"
"Yesterday. I went to the execution," Father Morelli immediately suppressed the fleeting desire to ask how that had gone; this really wasn't the appropriate time for such a conversation - and nodded encouragingly. "It went OK, I mean, as far as executions go, I guess. Then we got back into town and it was my day off, and I was gonna go home but... I don't know why I didn't..." he trailed off, helpless to explain what had happened.
Father Morelli realized he would have to walk him through this. Despite his outward composure, Rey was far too upset to talk about this coherently. He'd done this for other parishioners... just never thought he'd be doing it for Rey.
"Did you know her?"
"No. I, I went to Central Park, and she came up and started talking to me, and... it, it seemed innocent at the time. I thought, this is OK, this is just talking, this is just going to lunch, this is just picking out some CDs..."
"What happened after you picked out the CDs?"
"She... she said she just bought a new stereo and she - she said it was pretty good, good sound quality, and, and she asked if I wanted to hear for myself, away from an electronics store..." Rey paused, shaking his head, and Father Morelli reflected he'd never seen Rey at a loss for words, never heard him almost stammering in confusion. "I, I was thinking of getting the same one for - for Deborah, actually, ours is starting to skip sometimes and she's been complaining..." his brow furrowed as he thought of his wife. He looked up at Morelli and Morelli nodded encouragingly, keeping his tone soothing,
"OK, OK, so you went to listen to the stereo..."
"Yeah, we - we got to her place and she put one of her CDs on and... and she wanted to dance... and I... and we did, and then we had some wine, and, and then..." he trailed off and caught his breath, "I don't know what I was thinking." He suddenly covered his face with his hands, breathing in deeply. "God, what am I gonna say to Deborah?"
Father Morelli felt a pang of alarm. "What do you mean?"
Rey put his hands down, looked away from him, and said softly, almost to himself, "How am I gonna tell her?"
"You're not."
Rey looked up at him, shock written across his features. "What?!"
"You are not going to tell her. You are not going to say a word to her," Father Morelli commanded him sternly.
"But... but you always say-" confusion flooded Rey's face.
"I always say marriage is built on honesty and trust. And your marriage is. Was. But this is different," Morelli gathered himself, going into marriage-counselor mode. Sternly willing himself to get past his anger at Rey, that he should have to do this for Rey of all people. "Rey, complete honesty is for picture-perfect marriages. Like it or not, you don't have that any more," he said bluntly. Rey drew his breath in sharply, looking like he'd been slapped across the face, but holding his gaze. "Complete honesty is for telling your wife that you missed dinner with her friends on purpose, not for telling her that you've betrayed her and your children and God for a cheap thrill. It just doesn't work that way."
"But how can I not tell her? I... I feel so guilty. I can't live a lie, this isn't how Deborah and I are," he protested, shaking his head vehemently. "This isn't how our marriage is. We don't lie to each other, I can't -"
"You want to tell her. You're feeling guilty. You can't live with a lie," Father Morelli said harshly. "What about Deborah? Has she done anything to deserve the pain you're going to put her through by telling her?" Rey flinched. "What about your children? Have they done anything to deserve having their parents' marriage disintegrate?" Rey paled, his eyes looking darker than ever. He dropped his eyes and bowed his head, anguished remorse filling him like a physical presence. God, his kids... how could he have done this?
"Your wife and your children are more important than your guilty conscience. You did this. You have to live with it. It may be that eventually you will have to tell her, but you don't know that yet. And if you care about her at all, you will just live with this until you can tell, rationally, without being blinded by your own stupid impulses, what's the right thing to do."
Morelli leaned forward. "You fucked up, Rey," Rey looked up at him, startled by the obscenity. "Badly. You will have to live with the consequences of what you did for the rest of your life. Start dealing with it." Tears suddenly sprang to Rey's eyes and he quickly looked back down, and Morelli felt shock. Rey, who had never shown a more negative emotion than annoyed irritation or sheepish embarrassment in his presence, had tears in his eyes, looked devastated.
Morelli suddenly felt a pang of remorse. He needed Rey to understand the consequences of his actions and not screw up any more than he already had, but he was going too far. The aim was to save Rey's marriage, not deliberately attack him. The aim was damage control and penitence, not cruel punishment.
"Rey... I'm sorry, that was unkind."
"No," Rey whispered. "No, Father. You're right. My God, what have I done?"
ooo000ooo
"Rey?" Deborah looked up as he entered their home. He looked tired, drawn... so sad. "Lieutenant Van Buren just called. She wants you to come in and see her."
He nodded, taking off his jacket and sitting down heavily.
"Rey?" He looked up at her, exhausted and dazed. "Weren't you going to see her?"
He closed his eyes. Damn. Right. That's what he said he was going to do. Damn damn damn, think of an excuse... "I uh, I went to see Father Morelli instead - about what to do about Lennie... ended up taking a lot more time than I thought." OK, that was plausible. He'd have to call Father Morelli and let him know about Lennie's being drunk yesterday, let him know that this was the excuse of the day, so that she wouldn't figure it out when she talked to Morelli herself.
Suddenly he was disgusted with the whole situation. Getting his story straight, needing to establish alibis and make sure his priest, of all people, knew the correct lie to tell his wife if he had to. Well, Morelli was the one who said he should keep this to himself, so Morelli could damn well help him do it.
Deborah sat down next to him. "What did Father Morelli say?"
Crap. That's the problem with lying - you have to keep it going. What would Father Morelli say about Lennie getting drunk? Try not to judge him, you haven't lived his life, yadda yadda... but what about being his partner? What about telling Van Buren? No, that ship had sailed, Van Buren already knew... what else would he have talked to Morelli about if this morning had been spent talking about Lennie's indiscretion instead of his own?
"Rey?"
"We just talked about why Lennie was drunk. And how I felt about the execution and the accident, and Claire Kincaid's death," he made a mental note to himself to inform Father Morelli of this.
"What about partnering with him?"
OK, this he could deal with. And it wouldn't be pleasant, he could tell they were going to have a serious disagreement about it, but it would at least give him something to do other than think about how badly he'd messed up his life.
"I don't want a new partner, hon," he said, as non-confrontationally as possible.
She pursed her lips and nodded, taking a deep breath. OK, that was a good sign. That's what she usually did when she was pissed off but genuinely trying to handle it without blowing up. Not the usual 'I'm mad as hell and I'm gonna keep a lid on it as long as possible, but just you wait', but an actual 'I'm mad as hell but let's see if we can get through this without me losing it'.
"OK... why not?"
"We work really well together. And it was one mistake, Deborah."
"One mistake is all it takes if he's drunk one day when he's supposed to be backing you up."
"If I was a beat cop, I'd agree. It's different in Homicide."
"Homicide. You deal with people committing homicide, murderers. You gonna just hope he's sober when one of those murderers suddenly snaps?" she asked with some asperity. He sighed and she put her hand on his arm, trying to keep herself in check. He felt like her hand was burning him, but kept himself still.
"We spend most of our day in the car or at the precinct. It's not like beat cops who spend most of their day in the line of fire. I'm not saying I won't be watching, I'm just saying it's not like we're in danger 24/7."
"Doesn't it scare you at all that he fell off the wagon that easily? Watches one execution, all of a sudden he's screwing up in such a huge way?" He winced and she wondered at him. It really wasn't like him to defend his partner to her. She knew he had grown to like Lennie and enjoyed working with him, but he was nothing if not judgmental of Lennie's many failings.
"It wasn't a little thing. I can't explain it, it's just... it was hard watching that guy die, knowing we put him there, OK? Not that he shouldn't have died, but... it was just really... hard," he finished off, knowing that was probably as much as he'd ever be able to talk about how he had felt the day before. "And it hit Lennie worse than me, 'cause he wasn't even sure he agreed with the death penalty in the first place. And then he had lunch with his daughter and she said some pretty nasty things."
"Which he probably deserved," Deborah put in acidly. Rey looked away from her.
"Yeah, probably. I think that made it worse, though. He knows he's a screw-up, OK? Doesn't make it easier to live with. So he went back to the bottle for one night. And now Claire's dead and he feels like crap."
Deborah listened, not accustomed to hearing Rey talk about things like this. She felt her anger dying down as she genuinely tried to understand what Rey was trying to get across.
"Do you feel like you can't add to what he's going through?" she asked, and he glanced at her, slightly surprised. They didn't often discuss feelings, and she wasn't much better at it than he was when it came to talking about her own emotions, but she had been a counselor at the church for a while and had picked up a few tricks to get other people to open up. Not that she'd ever needed any of them with Rey, but it was coming into use right now.
"Yeah, I guess that's part of it... I dunno."
"OK..." she tried to figure out where to go from here. She needed him to change his mind. She couldn't stand knowing that he was putting his life on the line with an unreliable partner.
"That's not all... I just really don't think he'll ever do this again. You didn't see him at the hospital, you didn't see how bad he felt."
"It's all fine and good to feel bad now, Rey, it's how he felt when he was doing it that matters," she pointed out bluntly, and he winced again. Without meaning to, she kept saying things that brought him back to his own sin. He realized they were really having two conversations - hers, which was solely about Lennie, and his, which was about himself as well. "You don't think he'd ever do it again... would you have thought he'd do it at all, the day before yesterday?"
Damn, there she went again. Stabbing him without having the slightest idea she was doing it. He felt like he was bleeding inside, every word she said to condemn Lennie ripping into him as well... and he couldn't even tell her. Couldn't even ask her to stop.
If Father Morelli wanted him to do penance for his sin, this was penance, all right. Far worse than any direct confrontation, this was going to kill him if it kept up much longer.
No, it wouldn't. He did the crime, he'd do the time, and suck it up. At least she wouldn't get hurt - she didn't even know anything bad was going on. He came back to their conversation.
"No, I wouldn't have. I thought he'd really beaten it." He rubbed his forehead. "Can we compromise on this at all? I don't want a new partner right now. Can we agree to something, like if he ever drinks again I'm outta there?"
"How are you gonna know if he's drinking again?"
"He wouldn't cover it, not with me."
"He's not you, you know. You wouldn't lie to cover something you did wrong, but Lennie doesn't have that kind of moral upbringing. You've said so yourself, he's perfectly willing to commit perjury, tell half-truths, accept bribes if he thinks they're not really bribes, do all sorts of things he shouldn't do just because he thinks there's a good reason..."
Rey actually felt unable to breathe for a moment. He really couldn't do this. This was a nightmare. He couldn't live a lie with his own wife.
Yes, he could. For her sake, yes he damn well could.
"I think this is different."
"Talk to Van Buren, OK?" Deborah finally suggested, hoping that maybe Van Buren would talk some sense into him. It could be that all of this would be moot - for all she knew, Lennie was at this moment being cashiered out of the force.
ooo000ooo
Anita Van Buren rubbed her eyes wearily, wishing she didn't have to work today. There were days when really, all she wanted to do was cuddle up with her husband in front of the TV and not think about anything that went on outside the walls of her home.
Instead, yesterday she had spent the day working and dealing with the aftermath of the execution of Mickey Scott. She hadn't even gone, but she'd still had to deal with it. Briscoe had seemed OK at the time, a little disturbed by it but basically fine... but then Curtis had completely lost it, for no particular reason at all, with some creep in the holding cell. And then Claire Kincaid had come in, looking for Lennie and staying to chat, and Anita had thanked her guardian angel for making sure she didn't go watch it herself.
Claire Kincaid. Anita felt a pang of pain. Here yesterday, eating Chinese food and agonizing over the death penalty and the justice system, and gone today. Just like that. It was going to be tough to deal with this. She and Kincaid had become fairly close, as coworkers go, in part from the bond they shared as women in a man's world. Kincaid even reminded Anita of herself a little bit - the uncertainty she herself felt at times was more visible with Kincaid, but she had the same toughness that anybody dealing in the criminal justice system had to adopt. Women in particular.
She hadn't been so tough yesterday, though. None of them had. Claire agonizing and ignoring McCoy... Curtis losing it over something even Curtis should have been able to handle... and Briscoe falling back into the bottle.
Anita sighed. Lennie Briscoe. What the hell was she going to do? He and Curtis were supposed to come in in a few hours, and she didn't have a clue what to say to them. Either one of them. Should she suspend Briscoe? Could she do that, legally? Should she pull him off Homicide, even though he was one of her best detectives, because she couldn't trust him to stay sober? Should she just listen to him, try to understand what happened yesterday?
And Curtis... what was she supposed to do about him? She'd almost had a conniption when she realized that he'd known about Briscoe being drunk and hadn't told her about it. Curtis, who was about as straight-arrow and rigid as you could be and still be a human being, had hidden Briscoe's foul-up from her. And what's more, he hadn't even apologized for it when she confronted him later. He'd said it had nothing to do with the accident, that there was no reason for him to tell her about Briscoe's private life.
"He doesn't get to have a private life if it involves alcohol!" she'd yelled at him. And he'd just made some snarky comment about should that be in Lennie's contract and did the PBA know.
"Don't play stupid with me, Detective Curtis! You're the one whose life is gonna be in danger if your partner falls back into a bottle! This is not a game!" she'd replied, and he'd abruptly said he couldn't talk right then and cut her off.
What was the matter with all of them? What was Briscoe thinking when he broke years of sobriety? What was Curtis thinking when he covered that up? And what was she supposed to do about it now?
ooo000ooo
Rey walked into Van Buren's office feeling like he was sleepwalking. The last two hours in Deborah's presence had been torture; knowing that this was how it was going to be from now on had been hell. Deborah, innocently assuming that he was just upset about Lennie's drinking and Claire's death; the kids, happy to have their father there and enthusiastically including him in their activities; and him, knowing he'd betrayed them all and none of them knew and he could never, ever tell and he could never trust himself or feel the same about himself again.
He supposed he'd get used to it; people got used to all kinds of things, after all. But right now, he was in Hell, and the last thing he needed was to go and spend time talking about somebody else's mistakes. Especially knowing that Lennie and LT also had no idea what he'd done the day before; that Lennie, who he'd gone to for help the day before, would now be looking to him for help. When he didn't feel able to help anybody.
Lennie was already there, but it looked like he'd just arrived. Van Buren regarded them both sternly, and Rey thought to himself that it must be nice to feel that sure of yourself. She looked like she didn't have any doubts about what to do. He abruptly remembered that the day before yesterday he could have said the same about himself most of the time too.
"Detective Curtis, come in please," she said in a tone that could freeze napalm.
She waited until he was seated, and began. "We need to talk about what happened yesterday. Detective Briscoe, as you know, I am aware that you were intoxicated. I have serious doubts about your ability to work here if you are unable to keep yourself away from alcohol. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
"No," Lennie's voice was flat, lacking his usual good humour. He looked exhausted, worn out. Rey doubted it was just the hangover.
Van Buren glared at him. "No? That's it? You fall off the wagon and you just have no comment?"
Rey spoke up, pissed off at Van Buren's attitude. "What's he supposed to say? You got a script you want him to follow?" he asked belligerently. Van Buren looked at him, keeping the glare on but inside not knowing how to deal with him at all. She would've thought he'd be the first person to berate Lennie soundly, demand a new partner, tell Lennie he needed to retire if he was gonna dive back into the bottle. Instead, here he was, firmly aligning himself with Lennie, who didn't look like he knew how to take this either.
"I would like an explanation for his behaviour, Detective Curtis," Van Buren told him in an even tone, "And when he's done I would like an explanation for yours." She waited until he nodded and turned back to Lennie. "Detective?" she prompted him.
Lennie sighed. "I wasn't feeling too good about the execution. Then I went and had lunch with my daughter and it didn't go great, so I had a few vodkas."
"That's it? This isn't making me feel confident in your ability to be steady enough to do your job."
"He wasn't drunk on the job," Rey pointed out.
"It's not your turn to speak, Detective Curtis," Van Buren reminded him icily.
"I don't see what you got us in here for if-" he started to say angrily, and she cut him off.
"Detective Curtis, if you can't control yourself any better than you did yesterday I suggest you go for a walk while I talk to your partner," she snapped. For a moment he was frozen, wondering how she knew what he had done yesterday - then he realized she was talking about him losing it with the perp in the holding cell. Of course she didn't know about JC, nobody did. He glanced at Lennie, wondering whether Lennie would want him here or not and realized that Lennie would just let Van Buren walk all over him today if there was nobody here to stand up for him.
"Fine," he said tightly. Van Buren turned back to Lennie.
"What happened yesterday is inexcusable," she said forcefully. "You are an alcoholic. The one thing you cannot do is consume alcohol. You are in a dangerous profession in which you need to have all your faculties clear. Your partner's life depends on your steadiness and self-control. I will not have you jeopardize your partner's life or your own by your conduct."
Lennie was silent, looking down at the floor.
"I am tempted to ask you to hand in your resignation," Rey made a sound of protest, quickly stifled when she glared at him, and Lennie kept looking at the floor impassively. "Unfortunately I don't know what the PBA would say about that. I haven't talked to them yet, but I will once we finish this meeting."
Lennie nodded listlessly.
"Detective Briscoe?"
"Yeah," he muttered.
"Do you think I should I ask for your resignation?" Lennie shrugged. Rey crossed his arms and blew out his breath, frustrated that Lennie was just sitting there. Van Buren started to open her mouth to reprimand him, but quickly realized that he hadn't actually said or done anything that she could reprimand him for - other than 'I don't like your posture or expression right now', which would sound pretty silly. She took in Lennie's downcast eyes and abruptly changed her approach.
"Lennie. Do you think I should ask for your resignation?" she asked more gently. Rey glanced at her, noting the change in her tone.
"I dunno," Lennie muttered.
Rey cleared his throat. He waited until Van Buren looked at him, then tried to keep his tone respectful and said, "Do you mind if I talk for a minute?" She nodded. "LT... he made a mistake," he paused. "He's been sober for years, yesterday was a bad day, and he made a mistake. He deserves a second chance." Lennie stared at him, nonplussed. "You do," he told Lennie gently.
"He had a second chance. And a third and a fourth. His record isn't spotless, Detective Curtis. There's only so many times you can get another chance," Van Buren pointed out, her tone no longer cold, but still firm.
"Doesn't it make any difference that nothing like this has happened for years? We're not talking about him screwing up at work over and over and the last time was last week. We're talking about Lennie being sober for years, being a hell of a detective, with a hell of a close rate, and screwing up once, off the job, after watching an execution. He didn't break any laws. Nobody would've even known about it if it hadn't been for the accident. Which wasn't his fault," he added. "LT, don't fire him," he said simply. "The punishment doesn't fit the crime."
"Do you trust him to watch your back?"
"Absolutely," he answered, looking straight at Lennie.
Van Buren turned to Lennie. "Lennie?"
"Where'd my regular partner, Pat Buchanan, go?" Lennie asked Rey. Rey smiled ruefully, wishing he could tell him.
"I just think you're a good cop. You don't deserve to get kicked off the force over this."
"Lennie? Can I trust you to not do this again?" Van Buren asked.
"I'd like to say yeah, but I woulda said that two days ago and I woulda been wrong," Lennie said, looking back down.
"Lennie, how long since you had a drink?" Rey asked.
"One day," Lennie snapped at him tiredly.
"I'm not talking about the AA count where the only thing that matters is the last time you drank. I mean for real, before yesterday, how long since you'd had a drink?"
"One day. That's all that matters. There's a reason you start the count over whenever you drink, 'cause otherwise you tell yourself I've been sober five years, I only had one drink, and the one drink turns into two, and three, and then you're right back where you started. You're a drunk but you still think you've been sober for five years." Rey sat back, acknowledging his point without agreeing with it.
"Have you been going to AA meetings lately?" Van Buren asked.
"Not really... I kinda got out of the habit."
"Then you need to get back in the habit," she told him. Lennie nodded. "I'll have to put this in your record. If you do this again..."
"Yeah. I know."
"And I need you to promise to attend your meetings."
"Yeah."
"You're on very, very thin ice, Lennie," she reminded him.
"I know."
"OK. Contact your PBA rep, we'll set up a meeting and work something out." Lennie nodded. Van Buren turned to Rey.
"Detective Curtis," she began, then paused. She really didn't know what to say to him either, but knew she had to keep her air of authority. "What's your explanation for your own behaviour?"
Rey rubbed his forehead, reflecting that she was asking a hell of a lot more than she thought she was. Of course she just wanted to know about him covering for Lennie's foul-up, but...
"Detective?"
"What do you want me to say? That I'm sorry I didn't tell you?" Lennie stared at him.
"That would be a good start," Van Buren said evenly.
"You didn't tell her?" Lennie asked him, incredulous.
"No, I got to hear it from the investigating officer," she informed him. "Which I shouldn't have." She turned back to Rey. "I will repeat what I said to you this morning, Detective, this is not a game. You are responsible for your partner's safety as well as your own. His behaviour if he relapses could seriously compromise his safety and yours, and you aren't doing anybody any favours by keeping quiet about it."
Rey nodded, looking down.
"I expect you to keep me informed if Lennie backslides. Do I make myself clear?" she asked him sternly. He nodded again. "Do either of you have anything else to say about this?"
They shook their heads in tandem. Van Buren was struck with a sudden image of two little boys in the principal's office, or her sons being reprimanded for not picking up their toys. That was the mother in her, at least part of the time seeing the cops under her command as her kids. Always walking the fine line between nurture and discipline.
"Fine. Lennie, I expect you to set up that meeting with your PBA rep, and I expect both of you to return to work tomorrow. That's all," she dismissed them, and they stood and started to leave. "One more thing," they turned back. "Jack McCoy called to let me know that Claire Kincaid's funeral will be tomorrow at the Ginghampton Funeral Home. 2pm."
Rey headed out and Lennie caught up with him.
"Rey, can we go for coffee?" he asked quietly. Rey nodded to him, and they left the precinct.
ooo000ooo
"So... what's this?"
"What's what?" Rey asked, sipping his coffee. They had been quiet all the way to the diner, and hadn't said a word until they were sitting together at the counter.
"This isn't you, partner. I woulda thought you'd be the first one wanting her to can my ass."
"Maybe you don't know me as well as you thought," Rey said in an offhand tone. I don't even know me as well as I thought, he added silently to himself. They were quiet for another moment, neither one sure where else to take this conversation.
"What happened with you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Yesterday. What did you do? Did you just work?"
Rey thought for a moment. He had to get his story straight - he'd worked for a couple of hours, that part was true, but then he'd met JC and spent the day with her, and he sure as hell wasn't going to tell Lennie about that if he wasn't even telling his own wife. But he'd told Deborah he was with McCoy, which wouldn't wash with Lennie because Lennie knew McCoy had spent most of the day at a bar... would Lennie and Deborah ever meet and end up comparing notes on what he told them he did with his day?
He abruptly remembered that he'd already told Deborah that McCoy had spent some of the day at a bar - would she remember that he told her he was with McCoy? And would she wonder what time he left McCoy's office, since he called her at 7pm and to his memory he'd sounded like he'd just left McCoy, but by midnight when he came home, McCoy had already been at a bar long enough to get wasted and get tired of waiting for Claire... no, that could work, if McCoy went to the bar after 7. Which he hadn't, but that probably wouldn't come up in casual conversation with Deborah.
This was why the truth was better. He was going to have to get himself a pen and paper just to work out the timeline here, to get his stories straight. His lies straight, let's not use euphemisms and call them stories, he thought bitterly.
'Oh what a tangled web we weave/When first we practice to deceive,' floated through his head. Most people thought that was Shakespeare, but it was actually Sir Walter Scott. JC probably would have known that. Sharp stab of shame as he thought of JC again.
"Earth to Rey?" Lennie said.
"I worked for a bit. Lost it with a perp in the holding cell, so LT sent me home. Spent some time in the Park." At least that was a Catholic evasion, not a lie. The truth and nothing but the truth, just not the whole truth.
Lennie peered at him closely. There was something here that Rey wasn't telling him, he could sense it. Knowing Rey, though, it would take nothing short of a nuclear explosion to get him to open up if he didn't want to. And today Lennie didn't have the energy to try. He didn't know when he'd have the energy to try. He felt like he'd been run over himself, never mind that the doctors had told him he'd suffered no physical damage during the crash. Most likely the aftereffect of a massive hangover and two almost sleepless nights in a row. And Claire.
Oh god, poor Claire. That poor kid. And poor McCoy. He felt a wave of sorrow wash over him, and remorse at having been the cause of Claire's death. With the clearing of his head had come the intellectual realization that no, he wasn't actually at fault for her death, it was just bad luck... but nothing could lessen his emotional reaction.
"Did it bother you at all? The execution?" he probed.
"Yeah."
Nothing else seemed forthcoming. Well, Rey was nothing if not closemouthed about his feelings, unless his feelings involved righteous indignation, contempt for perps and occasionally, coworkers, or love for his wife and children. Anything else seemed to be pretty much off-limits as a topic of conversation for Rey. Uncertainty, guilt, embarrassment, regret... all the feelings that Lennie was dealing with were, as far as Lennie could tell, completely foreign to his partner.
Oh well, thought Lennie, at least Rey wasn't spewing righteous indignation at him now. He was being uncharacteristically charitable, compassionate even, and Lennie should probably just accept it gratefully and not question it.
He did wonder how this would affect their partnership. They worked fairly well as equals, in part because Rey seemed to understand that despite Lennie's spotty record, questionable ethics and complete incomprehension of computers, he did have a lot more experience and street smarts, and his spotty record was just that: a record. It was in the past. What would happen now that Rey had seen his past come up and smack him in the face, had seen him sodden and miserable, had had to stand up for him with Van Buren, had basically been told that he was to be a narc? Lennie didn't relish having Rey's sharp eyes evaluating his behaviour, ready to pass judgment on him and run to Van Buren at the first sign on trouble.
On the other hand, maybe it wouldn't be a big deal. For whatever reason, Rey had proven his loyalty to him by keeping quiet once already, so maybe he wouldn't let this affect their working relationship after all.
Not that Lennie expected Rey to keep quiet again if he did start drinking. He agreed with Van Buren that Rey should be more concerned with their safety than Lennie's reputation, and if Lennie could backslide the way he had yesterday, maybe he did need a babysitter. It rankled to have 'Junior' put in that position... but after yesterday he knew he should just count himself lucky to still have a job, still have a partner who wanted to work with him. Just swallow his pride and accept that this kid who was barely thirty-two was gonna be his keeper. He'd had to swallow his pride about far worse things than that.
Rey sipped his coffee, exhausted, upset, and earnestly wishing he could confide in Lennie. Tell him of the overwhelming remorse and shame that he was feeling, the frustration of not even being able to tell Deborah, the agonizing sorrow of having damaged his marriage and now having to live with it without even being able to own up to it or make up for it. Ever.
But he'd agreed with Father Morelli, eventually, that Deborah shouldn't be told. And once he'd agreed to keep it from his wife, there was no way he could tell anybody else.
"Rey," Lennie began, not knowing what he wanted to say, but knowing he had to clear some stuff or he wouldn't be able to go back to work. "Look, I'm uh... I'm sorry about all this," he began awkwardly. Rey shrugged dismissively.
"Don't worry about it."
"No... this... I put you in a bad position. I got you in trouble with LT. Thanks for standing up for me in there, by the way."
"No problem."
"I... I fucked up. And now you're still in a bad position, I mean she's basically said you gotta tell on me if I go back to the bottle. Like you hafta be my babysitter or something."
Rey shook his head, dismissing his concerns. "Don't make a big deal out of it, Lennie."
"It's a big deal to me. I mean, I agree with her, if I'm... if I'm having a problem you can't cover it. I can't believe you did," he added, observing Rey closely. Rey kept his eyes on his coffee cup, face impassive. OK, no clue there as to why he'd behaved in such a completely uncharacteristic way. "I mean, you're the big morality police. I really expected you to tell." Lennie kept his eyes on Rey's expressionless face, and probed a bit. "What happened to the guy who thought accepting a free meal at a restaurant was the same as a bribe?"
"That's potential police corruption. This is a drinking problem. It's not the same thing at all."
"My drinking problem could affect how I do my job though. You know that, you've heard the stories."
Rey shrugged.
"You know, I'll understand if you don't wanna work with me. You don't have to stay partnered 'cause you... feel sorry for me or anything," he spoke past bitter bile, hating the fact that he had to say this, the feeling of having this squeaky-clean kid in a position of power over him, in a position to judge or condescend. "I dunno, maybe I should take retirement," he muttered.
"Lennie, I meant what I said. I don't think this is gonna happen again."
"What makes you say that?"
"It was a bad day, that's all."
"There's gonna be other bad days."
"Yeah, and you had bad days before yesterday and you did OK. Don't assume just 'cause you messed up one time that it's gonna happen again."
Lennie's detective instincts kicked in full force. Something here wasn't right. Saint Rey Curtis hadn't just out of the blue done a 180 in terms of everything he believed in when it came to second chances and human frailty. Something had happened to him yesterday, something a lot bigger than watching Mickey Scott expire. Unfortunately, while Lennie trusted his instincts to sense something was off, he also knew his limits as a detective and knew he probably wouldn't be able to figure it out. Rey was too tough a nut to crack. He put it on the back burner for now.
"What about Deborah?"
"What about her?" Rey gave an almost undetectable start.
Trouble in paradise? Lennie took in the slight hunch in Rey's shoulders, the quickly suppressed look of... what? Had he and Deborah had a fight? "She's always worried about you. How does she feel about you working with me now?"
"Let me worry about Deborah," Rey said. "You worry about yourself."
"OK."
Rey tried to suppress a yawn.
"You better go home. You look like you need a nap."
"Yeah."
"How much sleep did you get last night?"
"I didn't," Rey said shortly.
"Why, what time did you get home this morning?"
"About 5," he yawned again.
Something had to have happened to Rey. He hadn't come in to Van Buren's office until mid afternoon. And between 5am and 2:30pm he'd had no sleep at all? They were both used to all-nighters, both used to catching up on their sleep as soon as possible. It didn't make sense that Rey had just decided to miss a full night, especially after being up almost all night the night before because of the execution. He'd slept a bit in the car on the way to Attica and back, but not enough to make an entire second night of lost sleep an option unless there was something seriously wrong.
Ah well. Plenty of time to figure this out later, when he wasn't so damn tired himself.
"Well, let's get a move on then." They paid for their coffees and left. "I'll see you tomorrow. Thanks, Rey."
"No problem. Get some more sleep, I'll see you tomorrow."
Lennie headed off to his empty apartment, knowing he'd go to sleep with thoughts of his loss of sobriety, Van Buren's rightfully pissed off attitude, and guilt over Claire Kincaid. He wished he had somebody to go home to like Rey did - a family, wife, kids. Wished he hadn't thrown it all away when he did have all of that. Wished he didn't have this splitting hangover now.
Rey headed back to his full house, knowing that after he finally got some sleep he'd have to face Deborah and tell her that he was still going to work with Lennie. That wouldn't go over well, he could tell, although this morning she'd been a lot more patient than he'd expected. Hopefully they could get through this without another fight, especially in front of the kids.
He sighed. He wasn't the most introspective person in the world, but it didn't take Freud to figure out that the reason he wasn't judging Lennie's fall from grace the day before was that he sympathized with it completely. He knew Van Buren, Lennie and Deborah were all puzzled as hell, and he couldn't explain it to any of them.
He wished he was going to an empty house, just to not have to deal with anybody else. To not have to face his guilt. Wished he didn't feel so completely alone all of a sudden, so cut off from his wife and children because of his damn stupid mistake and his lies.