(Monday, 11 August 2003. 0930 hours)
"Chief, I have a message for you," Steve Sloan put his pen back in the pencil cup CJ had given him at his homecoming party, hung up his phone, and called to his superior as Chief Masters walked through the squad room on his way to an important meeting. Captain Newman moved alongside of him, providing him with some last minute information. Steve was on desk duty this first week just to be sure he could handle being back in the squad room. In fact, today was his first day on the job in over a month, and he was feeling really good about it.
As the Chief turned to face him, Newman's hand went to his weapon. A couple of people dove for cover, and out of the corner of his eye, Steve could see Tanis Archer leveling her gun at him.
Stepping back, Steve raised his hands in the air, and suddenly remembering it all like it was yesterday, he shouted, "NO! No, really, Sir, your secretary knew you were in an important meeting with Captain Newman, and rather than interrupt, she asked me to pass this information along." Steve held the note out gingerly.
The Chief reached out, accepted the slip of paper, read it, and nodded. "Very good. Thank you, Lieutenant." Looking around, he saw Tanis with her gun still drawn, ready in case of emergency, and he said, "Sergeant, put that thing away before you hurt someone." Scowling at the other officers, he said, "Don't you people have some criminals to catch or something?" Giving Newman a look of cool disapproval, said simply, "Captain?"
In moments, the activity in the squad room was back to normal, the Chief was gone, and Newman was back in his office. Finding himself standing in the middle of the room alone, Steve went back to his desk and sat down, cradling his head in his hands, staring at the green blotter before him.
He didn't have a name for what he was feeling at that moment. He just suddenly realized that something at the very foundation of his life had shifted. He had, barely more than a month ago, murdered the Chief of Police in cold blood, at least in his own drugged, delusional mind. He couldn't fathom it. He understood intellectually now about the drugs, the psychology, and the torture, but on an emotional level, he still couldn't quite grasp the concept that he, of all people, had committed premeditated, first-degree murder. Suddenly, he didn't feel he was handling things all that well on his first day back.
"Lieutenant."
Recognizing the voice, Steve began automatically to rise and face the Chief.
"At ease," the older man said, and as Steve settled back into his chair, the Chief took the seat beside his desk.
For several minutes, the two men sat there, not moving or making a sound. The Chief just watched one of his best detectives staring at the blotter, struggling with some inner turmoil. Finally, Sloan looked up at him, and the haunted look in his eyes made the Chief's heart clench in regret and shame at the indiscretions of some forty years past for which this fine officer was still suffering now.
"Are you sure you did the right thing, letting me come back?" Steve asked softly.
The Chief stared at his Lieutenant for a few moments, then said simply, "You wouldn't be here if I didn't trust you."
After a pause, Steve nodded. The Chief smiled and stood up. Giving the Detective a meaningful look, he said, "Now, get back to work."
With a relieved smile, Steve said, "Yes, Sir," and he opened another file in front of him.
The End
A/N: Thank you all for the wonderful reviews. It has been a genuine pleasure writing this story and posting it, and then reading all of your comments.
Jo