Lennie, Part XIII

by Cirocco (500 words)

This morning I finally got my partner back. The touchy, brooding, sarcastic asshole I've been working with for days apparently took a hike overnight. Actually, he looked a little better than normal, and went off to lunch like he used to go off to Atlantic City.

Then McCoy called his line, trying to get a hold of him. Some court thing yadda yadda, he can't make lunch, will I call Ed to let him know.

What am I, a messenger service? I gave him Ed's number and tried to tell myself they were just meeting to go over testimony. And that the bounce in Ed's step when he went off to lunch, and McCoy's nervous voice on the phone, were totally unrelated.

Ed came back from lunch none too happy, but keeping it together. But I get the feeling Asshole Ed is gonna be back tomorrow. And I can't even tell him, Been there, pal. Because first off, no, I haven't, and second, I'm not even supposed to know anything's going on. He doesn't trust me enough to tell me squat.

Which sorta pissed me off at first, but then it made me think. I mean, what must it be like to be a gay cop? To know you can't do the guy thing with your pals, bitching about a clingy girlfriend or nasty ex-wife, because they just might shoot you if they find out the girlfriend's a boyfriend? Damn lonely, probably.

Although, gay angle aside, guys don't open up real easy anyway. I mean, yeah, me and Rey shared a hell of a lot, but that was mostly just circumstances. Serious crap rained down on both of us in those years. You're partnered with a guy when his daughter dies or his wife gets MS... you're gonna talk about more than just sports. A lot of barriers got broken down. That just hasn't happened with Ed.

But he just got another call, at 6:30. McCoy, calling Ed's line again.

"Oh - Lennie. I'm looking for Detective Green."

"He just left."

"For dinner?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Fuck!" I heard him say off-phone. "Fuck." He cleared his throat, said, "Thanks," and hung up.

Whatever the hell is going on, that didn't sound good. And I'm not looking forward to working with Asshole Ed again, you know?

"Who was that?" Ed asks, coming back from the can. I guess he hadn't left after all.

"McCoy. Don't you have your cell phone on?"

"Battery's low, I'm recharging it," he says, distracted, checking his watch. "What did he want?"

"Trying to get a hold of you. I told him you left for dinner." I pause. "He said 'Fuck' and hung up."

Ed turns around and goes into an IR without a word, slamming the door.

OK, you know what? Screw the silent stiff-upper-lip macho crap. I can't take another couple of days like the last two. So I follow him into the IR.

"Ed. What the hell is going on between you and McCoy?"

Ed, Part XIV

by Cassatt (500 words)

I'm about to toss one of these chairs against the wall and I don't even know why I'm so fucking mad. And I am. Fucking mad. And it's ridiculous! Jack only ran into some scheduling shit today, he didn't tell me to go take a hike! Just the opposite, for God's sake!

Yelling at myself, yes, that'll help.

The door opens and it's Lennie. "Ed," he demands, "what the hell is going on between you and McCoy?"

Oh, great, Lennie on my case. That'll help, too. I consider the chair again. "What," I say as loudly, but slower, "are you talking about?" I figure that deflection is a good strategy. There's no way in hell I'm gonna answer his question.

"Don't even try it, partner."

Ah, fuck, I know that voice. I see that attitude. "Lennie," I say, throwing the warning right back.

"Look--I got you going nuts, I got McCoy swearing, lookin for you, first lunch and now dinner--do you think I'm that stupid?"

"Fuck!" I can't think of what else to say. I know, let's see who's really stupid here.

Lennie mutters, "Not you, too." He sighs in exasperation; I calculate how quickly I can make it out the door before he can react. "Okay," he says in a buddy-type voice. My turn to sigh. He continues, "Looks to me like it's pretty simple." He grins, or grimaces, I can't quite tell.

"Simple, you think it's simple?!" I can snark, too.

"Yeah, damnit, it's simple! You two wanna go out, then do it! What's the problem?! He's a busy guy, you're a busy guy, so?!"

I stare at him. Probably longer than necessary. He doesn't understand. Do I?

"Ed, it's that you want it too much, isn't it?" He's looking at me funny, which could be due to the fact that we're talking about Jack McCoy here.

"I...." I blink. He's right. "How do you know that?" I challenge.

"I just do. Now, go," he says pointedly. "Talk to him." I finally relent, and nod, not having the energy to do much else. He leaves.

At least I can honestly say that I never told Lennie anything.

I've been everywhere--Jack's office, the restaurant, some bar he once mentioned. I've called work and home numbers, left messages at each. Apologized for being an asshole. Used up what I had left of my minimally charged cellphone. Been sitting here, outside his apartment. Don't ask how I got in the building. I'm a cop. I look at my watch. Almost nine. There are seventeen cracks in the ceiling. Eighteen reasons why I should go home.

"Ed."

I turn, and he's approaching. I stand. "Hey," I say.

He shrugs. "I've been looking for you."

I see the look in his eyes and finally breathe. "Me, too. I'm sorry...."

He raises a hand to stop my groveling. "Doesn't matter. Want to come inside?" He smiles.

Oh, yeah, I want this too much. "Yes," I answer sincerely.

He unlocks the door.

Anita, Part XV

by LynK13 (450 words)

Trust. That is always the bottom line. I trust my people, my family, my precinct. Sometimes the line is blurry. Some of these men and women have become my family, sticking by me not only on the street, but also through my court battles, both as a defendant and through the fiasco of my litigation.

I've always hoped they trusted me just as deeply. I know they have put their lives in my hands on those occasions I've joined them on stakeouts. I've felt that bond. They trust me to watch their backs on the street, with the rat squad, with the D.A.'s office.

Ed has been ready to be a team player since day one. Beneath his Mr. Cool attitude, it doesn't take too much looking to see the man inside. What shines out is his enthusiasm for life, and a warmth and empathy that the job still hasn't burned out of him.

I thought we've been doing well. He's opened up some about his gambling past. Given me ungrudgingly his side of the story on the temper outbursts that gave rise to the "excessive" force rumors. Lack of sleep, a backsliding partner, and perps that were about to slide away with their greasy lawyers. Would I have put it on his record? I've made Lennie drag Curtis out of the interrogation room when he was about a hair away from crossing that line into brutality. I know Ed felt his conscience was clean.

Are these things enough to earn not just respect, but Ed's trust? How much trust does he need to share the secret he's carrying? I would rather not test the how high the walls are, walls he must have to keep around his private life. But something is, and has been, off between Lennie and Ed. I can't stand by and watch my best team lose the connection that makes them work.

Maybe I'm totally off base. But if I'm correct? If Lennie has a problem with Ed's... lifestyle, there's going to have to be an attitude adjustment.

If I'm correct about reading Jack McCoy's glances and smiles....? But suddenly Ed's not smiling. Jack McCoy, damn you, you had better not be jerking one of my people around. I don't have enough information. I'm not sure if it's time to fight yet. I need to get a few more facts. But watch out, MR. A.D.A... If you wanna mess with me and mine you'd better be packing more heat than your persuasive vocabulary.

Ed's gone for the night and Lennie's about to leave.

Deep breath, and I lean my head out.

"Lennie, I need to see you in my office. I think you know why."