Passing The Torch
Disclaimer: Dick's, not mine.
A/N: I had wanted to add this on to the end of "She's Gone", but it felt too abrupt…so here it is…as a one shot. Enjoy, and please R&R! Thank you!
Milo Goren walked up the aisle of the auditorium and took a seat next to his mother, Carolyn. His father, Bobby, leaned across her to shake his son's hand, sitting back quickly as the drill sergeant called out, "Class, MARCH!" Everyone in the audience turned as the forty three members of the newest graduating class for the NYPD marched down the aisle, their faces void of any expression, eyes straight ahead, their military bearing completely in check.
"Class, SEATS!" In unison, the class was seated, feet together, palms flat on the tops of their thighs. Bobby smiled; this certainly took him back. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see whom it was – Olivia Benson. She winked at him.
"I just had to see my namesake graduate," she whispered. To her left sat Mike Logan and Lynn Bishop-Logan and their two children, Henry and Ava. Mike winked and gave him a thumbs- up. Bobby smiled and turned back around. There was a speech made by the Captain of the Academy, as well as some other boring parts; Carolyn had a giggle as one of the "dignitaries" kept nodding off on stage.
It was time for the awards. The highest average award went to Leesa Jonas; she maintained an average of 99.6 for the entire six months of the Academy. Emory Watson completed the fastest obstacle course run in one minute and thirteen seconds. Shooting a 250 and a 150 in the revolver and the rifle respectively – perfect scores for each – went to Jennifer Mastucci, whom her fellow classmates had nicknamed "The Mafia Princess". And finally, the leadership award. The drill sergeant took the stage, holding the award in his hand and spoke. "The winner of this award was chosen by her peers. The recipient showed skill and determination throughout her stay here and never failed in letting her enthusiasm catch onto to her peers. On behalf of myself and the other instructors, we are proud to award Nanette Goren, session leader for class 28-01 Alpha, this leadership award." The drill sergeant performed a left face as Nan marched onto the stage. She took her award, shook the drill sergeant's hand, performed an about face and marched back to her seat. Bobby felt Carolyn reach for his hand, giving it a little squeeze.
The Commissioner stood at the podium. "It is now time to issue the diplomas and badges."
The drill sergeant marched towards the class and stood in front of them. "Row one, ATTENTION!" The Commissioner read aloud the names of each graduate and each graduate marched along with military precision, accepting their badges and marching back to their seats. "Row three, SEATS! Row four, ATTENTION!"
"Nanette Goren," the Commissioner called out. Nan marched onto the stage, accepting her diploma. The Commissioner didn't have her badge and motioned for her to remain on stage. The Captain stood at the podium and made an announcement.
"Will retired detective Robert Goren please come up on stage?" Bobby stood and walked to where his daughter stood, a flicker of confusion marking her face briefly as she stood at attention. The Captain spoke again. "On January 6th, 2005, Nanette's mother, Detective Alexandra Eames was killed in the line of duty. Ms. Goren was only a baby. Her mother died serving this fine city, but this has not deterred this young lady from walking in her mother's footsteps. With approval from the Commissioner, the New York Police Department is proud to reassign Detective Eames' badge to her daughter." Nan looked at Bobby, shocked. Bobby pulled her mother's badge from his pocket and handed it to her. Nan gave him a small, teary smile as she shook his hand. Nan marched off stage, returning to her seat, Bobby doing likewise. The rest of the graduates received their badges and the oath was taken. They were now officers of the city of New York The audience stood and applauded.
When the roar died down, the Captain spoke again. "Well, now it's time for the fun to really start." The lights dimmed as a video screen came down from the ceiling. There were shots of the graduates' first day at the Academy, learning to stand at attention, parade rest and all the other aspects of drill and ceremony. There was physical training – non-stop laughter as the camera panned over forty-three recruits on their backs, legs in the air, kicking. Ah, the flutter kick. The audience now understood why Ms. Mastucci was dubbed "The Mafia Princess"; she was so good she assisted the firearms officers during instruction. Audience members cringed as they watched their loved ones take shots of the chemical agents in the face, and laughed as they ran from the smokehouse, masks in hand. Nan glanced over at the drill sergeant for a moment. The tiniest hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. The final shot – the graduates marched towards the camera, singing their favorite cadence "Captain Jack". Everyone laughed as Brandon Barnett tripped and muttered, "fuck" into the camera. The drill sergeant was the last one on camera. "Left, right, left…class, HALT!" The screen faded to black, except for these words:
CLASS 2028 – 01
Total In – 43
Total Out – 43
Congratulations!
All forty-three of those officers let out one big "HOO-rah!" The audience laughed. The drill sergeant stood in front of the officers with a look of disdain on his face. "That is the last time I let you steal catchphrases from those goddamn jarheads." The officers snorted with laughter. "Officer, ATTENTION!" Again, like a well-oiled machine, the class stood at attention awaiting their final commands from their beloved drill sergeant. "Right FACE! Class, MARCH!" The same old graduation music blared as the officers marched out of the auditorium and back to their barracks to pack, excited to get back outside to see their loved ones.
Nanette stood by her car and watched as her father made his way through the parking lot towards her. She smoothed down her dress blues, the very same ones her father had worn, just taken in quite a bit in the waist. Nan had grown to be as tall as her father, but was delicate as her mother had been. She had her father's curls and her mother's blonde coloring. Everyone always said that if it weren't for the curls and the nose, people would've thought Alex had cloned herself. Nan looked down at her badge, her mother's badge, and couldn't help but get choked up. While Bobby had been inside talking to Milo (who had just flown in from California where he was a police officer), Carolyn and Olivia let Nan in on the whole plan behind the badge. It had been Bobby's idea, Nan's stepmother explained. He knew Alex would've been beyond proud to know her only child was carrying on the torch, the family tradition. Nan heard footsteps and snapped out of her reverie. Bobby stood before his daughter now. Neither of them spoke. Nan closed the badge wallet and looked at her father through her tears, as he looked at her, tears blurring his vision as well. She threw her arms around her father, managing, "Thank you, Daddy."