Beer For My Horses

by LSMunch

When the gun smoke settles, we'll sing a victory tune and we'll all meet back at the local saloon. We'll raise up our glasses against evil forces singing whiskey for my men, beer for my horses.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: This was born of listening to Toby Keith's Beer For My Horses more times than I care to count.

It had been a grueling three weeks, full of crying children, grieving mothers, angry fathers and one wild chase for a child molester. Then, they had to wait for the beginning of the trial, then, wait for the end of the trial. They had all testified, each giving some account of a damaged child, on who had lost their innocence years before their time. And everyday they came into work, tired, beaten, angry and driven. They wanted to catch this man, they needed to catch him. If they didn't, their whole world might collapse about their ears, sending them spiraling into nothingness.

After a month of testifying, mothers on the stand, trying to hold back tears, children relating what had happened to them in voices that were supposed to be laughing, doctors with charts and pictures, showing the evidence of a child broken, the jury had left. It took them less than half an hour to convict. They had all made sure they were there when closing arguments came and were determined to hear the verdict, no matter how long it took, although they suspected that it wouldn't be long. With that kind of evidence... one mother, one father on that jury and they would sway any person who felt that the man being tried should be found innocent.

They had all sighed in relief as the foreman of the jury said "guilty" over and over and over again. Guilty for everything. No child went without justice, however small it may have been in comparison to the injustice done to them. The injustice of having a man take away their innocence, their joy, their childhood. They had shook hands with Alex, each of them smiling with relief, and her, too. They had done something right, they had done something good.

Now, they were sitting in the bar, telling jokes, winding down. All of them knew that the nightmares that had been plaguing them since the start of this case would continue for years to come, although hopefully fewer and farther between as the months passed. For now, it was about celebrating a hard earned victory and trying to drown the pain for a night. Stories were told, funny ones, ones that only cops could really understand, ones that only cops really ever knew about. They all had their share, seeing as their combined years on the force totaled to over one hundred years. They'de been around the block a few times, to say the least.

It was late and there were few patrons left in the bar, the music from the speakers finally heard in it's eternity. As there was a lull in conversation, they listened to the words coming from above them. And as the chorus finished, Munch raised his glass. "Hear, hear!" he said loudly and they all followed suit, clinking glasses together and downing what remained in them. The barkeep shook his head and watched as four cops and an ADA toasted to justice and beer for their horses.