Copyright and Author's Rambling
I made changes according to the February 25th episode. Except for dates, the only scene that went through any notable changes was in the first chapter (an altercation between John and his dad was changed into John having a nightmare).
You already know I don't own NYPD Blue – so don't ask.
Chapter Five: Confrontations
15th Precinct Locker Room
Monday, November 24, 2003
9:53 am
Detective Andy Sipowicz slammed the door of the locker room. "What the hell is going on with you, John?" he asked once his partner had entered the room.
"Nothing."
Andy sighed. "So do you mind explaining why your behavior of late? You been gallivanting into work late, leaving early, disappearing for hours at a time …" And you been getting so thin (Rita told me that, but I noticed them suits of yours look big on you). At first he had assumed his partner's erratic behavior was the result of grieving for his father. The repeated fainting spells made him question that assumption. But it was John Irvin's frantic disclosure of witnessing the younger detective in the restroom with a syringe that kicked him into action.
"I've got things I been taking care of," John quickly assured him. "Nothing for you to be concerned with."
"If I got a partner putting his job at risk, then yeah, I do got a right to be concerned."
John snorted. "Putting my job at risk?"
"Somebody saw you injecting a syringe into your arm."
"Ever hear the phrase 'assume makes an ass out of u and me?' It's for my iron deficiency. If they'd talked to me instead of running to good old Andy, they might have found that out."
"What about you going off god knows where all the time?"
"I'll leave a few minutes early so I get to work on time. Don't worry about it, Andy."
"Maybe you don't realize this, but the thing about partners is that they communicate with each other. You get my drift?"
"I've got a lot of stuff on my mind," Clark admitted. "Don't worry. I won't let it interfere with my work, if that's where you're headed." He began to absentmindedly pound on his locker with his fist.
"Partners help each other out," Sipowicz reminded the younger man.
"Well, maybe I don't want your help!" Clark retorted. "Ever think of that?" The pounding of the locker became more frantic. "I'm a big boy now, Detective. I can handle my own problems, thank you very much."
If I wasn't worried about you, I'd be roughing you up for that mouth, kid. "I've made that mistake one time too many. Cost me a partner."
This didn't seem to faze him. "I can take care of myself."
"I've already buried two partners," Andy said. "I don't want to have to bury a third."
"I'm fine, Andy. Just leave me alone." I know something's wrong, kid. You ain't too good at hiding it.
"Leave you alone? Look, kid, if you're in some kind of jam …"
Conflicting emotions flickered across his face, but he tried to hide it with a tough and angry tone of voice. "Do you always have to butt in to people's business?" He kicked open the door and tried to exit, but Andy grabbed his wrist. "Let me go!" he hissed.
Andy watched sadly while his partner slammed the door in his face. Something's not right with you kid. I'm gonna find out what it is.
* * *
McDowell-Sipowicz Residence
Monday, November 24, 2003
7:39 pm
"A detention?" Sippy roared. "How the hell do you get two detentions in one month?"
Jasmyn dug her heel in the rug and made circular motions. "I dunno," she mumbled.
"You damn well better know!" he replied. "What do I have to do to get you to stay out of trouble? Do I need to start taking away privileges?"
"I ripped up a test," she said quietly. "It was a stupid math test," she added before he could talk.
"Well, that's just great," he said sarcastically. "Let's commit an act of vandalism now, shall we? Mr. Charleston is willing to help you with your work, and you go and throw and down the sewer. Brilliant idea, Jasmyn."
She glared at him and filled her mind with a myriad of curses against the potbellied detective who had the gall to think they were related. She wasn't sure what to call him. Andy seemed too familiar; Detective Sipowicz, too formal; and Grandpa was the one word that refused to cross her lips in reference to this man. She and Theo had discovered his high school yearbook recently; the pages were filled with messages to a Sippy. For lack of a better term, she started using Sippy, too. If he minded, he didn't let on. Is he done ranting yet? She wondered.
Unfortunately, he was not. "You could go to jail for defacing property," he explained. "So many of the things you get into trouble for could land you in the system. Is that what you want?"
"What's it to you?" she retorted.
"Don't you dare use that mouth with me!" he shouted. She could count at least three veins in his reddened forehead.
Connie placed a hand on his arm. "Andy, calm down." Her voice was gentle yet had a firm I mean business tone to it. She turned to Jasmyn. "If you're having trouble, honey, you should talk to someone. Ripping up an exam is only going to make things worse."
"Forget it, Connie," Sippy told her. "We've already tried reasoning with her. It's not working. How are your grades?" he asked the nine-year-old. "You're not failing out of school, are you?"
You'd like that, wouldn't you? "I got an A in Reading and Social Studies," she told them.
"What about math?" Connie asked.
"C's and D's," she mumbled. Shit! You already know, so why the hell do you got to ask?
Andy turned to Connie. "You see? It's impossible to educate them people – they're too damn stubborn."
Go to hell you fucking prick! She hissed under her breath.
"What did you just say?" he asked harshly. Oops! Guess I didn't say it soft enough. He repeated the question.
"N-nothing," she stammered.
"You're in enough trouble as it is," he reminded her. "I'd advise against opening that big mouth of yours."
"You ain't my Momma," she said. "You can't tell me what to do."
"You better stop with the sass right now. You want to get into more trouble than you already are?" I don't care.
She stormed off to the bedroom. "I hate you!" she cried. "Wish Momma was here so I don't have to know you." She slammed the door shut before hearing his reply and curled up on her bed. The door squeaked open and a hand shook her back. "Go away," she mumbled, the tears dripping down her cheek.
"You okay, Jazzy?"
"Yeah," she said to the seven-year-old. She didn't change her position on the bed. "I hate it here!" she sobbed. "I hate it! I hate it! I hate it!"
Theo didn't say anything. He just squeezed her hand and let her rant.
* * *
McDowell-Sipowicz Residence
Tuesday, November 25, 2003
1:51 am
Theo Sipowicz squeezed his eyes to ward off the intruding light. "What time is it?" he mumbled.
"Ten to two," Jasmyn answered. "Go back to sleep."
He opened his eyes and sat up. Across the room, his niece was haphazardly throwing clothes into a suitcase. "Are you going on a trip?" he asked.
"No, not a trip. I'm running away."
"Why?" Now he was fully awake. "You don't like it here?" Please don't hate me or Daddy or Connie. I'll be sad if you go away.
"Never said I don't like it here," she said. "But Sippy hates me." Yeah, he was pretty mad earlier, wasn't he?
"Dad doesn't hate you," Theo argued. Maybe he does, but I sure don't hate you. I think you're the greatest.
Jasmyn nodded, sure of her decision. "You heard him just as well as I did, Theo Sipowicz! I'm ruining his life."
"Well, you're not ruining my life," he told her. "I like you a lot."
The nine-year-old grinned. "Really? Man, you're the only one here who gives a damn about me." She walked over to his bed and mussed his hair. "You ain't half bad, kid."
Theo tossed off the covers and walked to the closet. He pushed open the door and attempted to reach for the top shelf. Seeing that he was too short to reach the shelf, he decided to drag a chair over to the closet.
"What are you doing?" Jasmyn asked. She helped him get the Pokemon wheelie-bag down before it collapsed on top of him. "No, Theo. You can't …"
"Yes I can!" he responded.
"I'm doing your dad a favor," she explained. "If you come with me, he'll get really upset."
He shook his head. "I don't want you to be by yourself," he said. He grabbed a few articles of clothing and placed them in the suitcase. "I'm coming with you." What's that word Daddy uses all the time? "Stubborn?"
* * *
Streets of NYC
Tuesday, November 25, 2003
2:28 am
Jasmyn grabbed Theo's hand and led him across the street. They'd only been walking for about half an hour, and already his feet were killing him. "Not many taxis this time of night, I guess," Jasmyn commented.
"Where are we gonna go?" Theo asked. We can visit John or Aunt Katie. I'd like to go to Disney World again.
"I'm thinkin' maybe New Orleans," she suggested. "Momma said she was gonna take me there to visit this friend of hers." Her voice got softer. "That was before she got in that bad accident."
"Can we go to Disney World?"
She nodded and ushered him away from a foul-smelling woman sleeping on the sidewalk. "We can go anywhere we want, babe."
Theo flashed her a quick smile. Anywhere I want? I want to go home, but I know that's the last place you'd go. They walked past a bar. People were milling about while a man was attempting to close down for the night. At the end of the block, there was an ice cream shop. Theo wanted some ice cream, but he knew that Closed meant that nobody was there. They turned and entered a street that – except for a group of men talking in hushed voices – was very deserted at this time of night. They dodged one or two bodies sprawled in the dirt, ducked over a clothesline, and jumped over a deflated basketball. Suddenly, Theo felt himself yanked into the alley. He turned to his heroine. "W-what?" he asked fearfully.
"We gotta get out of here!" she gasped. What happened to Disney World and New Orleans?
"Jazzy, what's wrong?" She pressed her index finger to her lips and dragged him back to the main street. "Now can I talk?" he asked.
"Uh, Theo? Do you know where the nearest Greyhound Station is?"
He shook his head. "Never been on one." They continued walking aimlessly around the darkened city. Some of the scenery they were passing seemed familiar to Theo, but he couldn't quite figure out why.
"Too bad that joint ain't open now," Jasmyn mused as they passed by Mario's Pizzeria. "I could go for a big slice of everything pizza right now."
"Theo?" a voice called out. He grabbed Jasmyn's hand and they turned around to see who had recognized him. The blonde-haired man jogged across the street to where the children were standing. "Where's your father?" he asked. "Where's Connie?"
"Hey, John," Theo greeted his favorite baby-sitter. No wonder this area looks so familiar – you used to live here, you dodo.
John Irvin took in the wheelie-bags. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked. "Do you know how dangerous it is to be wandering around like this in the middle of the night?"
"I had to leave," Jasmyn explained. "Sippy hates me." For the last time – he does not hate you.
John shook his head. "He doesn't hate you, Jasmyn. He's just difficult sometimes. You ever hear the expression 'his bark is worse than his bite'?" She nodded. "That's the way it is with your grandfather. He cares about people, but he has a funny way of showing it." How come Dad's nice to me but he gets really mad at everybody else? He grabbed each child by the hand. "Come one, you too. I'll give you something to eat, but first I've got to make a phone call." Theo, this is what is called knee-deep in shit.