1A/N: Don't own 'em – never will. Thanks Mr. Wolf.
Sick Day
I sat at my desk, trying to concentrate on a file. My mind kept wandering — something — a nondescript feeling nagging at the back of my brain. It wasn't until the Captain arrived later in the morning that I realized the source of my distraction.
Deakins was in a good mood for a Monday, grateful to be back at the office following the bureaucratic boredom of his monthly meeting at City Hall. He walked into the Squad Room at his usual "all business" pace and breezed past my desk — our desks — with a 'hello' and a simple question: "Where's your better half?" And that's when it hit me. My 'distraction' was you.
"She, umm, called in sick," I answered him, not even realizing that I had already begun making a mental list of the perfect ways we balance each other:
"Male - Female
Big - Small
Gentle - Tough — how did such a little lady get so tough?
Analytical vs. Gut instincts
I fly off the handle - You 'ground' me
Stumble - Catch me
Impatient - Patient
Good cop - 'Bad cop' — I love when we play..."
"Goren!" Deakins' voice interrupted the beginning of what could have been an excellent daydream.
I grabbed the files from my desk and my portfolio, making a mental note: "I'll call you at lunch time to make sure you're okay and to see if you need anything from the drug store. I'll stop by the deli after work and bring you chicken soup and take care of you tonight, 'cause the Captain was right. You are my 'better half.' Only you make me feel whole. Please don't call in sick again tomorrow."
THE END