Hello everyone! This fandom is DRY so I am here to quench your thirsts with a looong, slooow burn about our favourite singular-brain-celled anticorruption officer and my original character. And when I say slow, I mean SLOW. You all complain about it but I know you love it really!
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"Welcome to Anticorruption," Edward Hastings introduces to his newest recruit.
"As you can see," he gestures unenthusiastically at the near-empty room, "we've got a number of active investigations at present."
"Why are there so many empty desks?" Steve Arnott asks, underwhelmed.
Hastings sighs, "You should see it as a promotion, Steve. If you want to get anywhere in the job these days, Anticorruption's a big tick on the old CV."
"This will be good for me," Steve says, trying to convince himself.
"That's the ticket," Hastings assures, watching the younger man's eyes flit doubtfully around the office, "Your shooting. Do you have any idea how many people have died as a direct result of police action in the last ten years, Steve?"
He continues as Arnott shrugs, "Well, as with all firearms incidents, it's gone upstairs to the IPCC. But Karim Ali, the man who was accidentally killed, he's an illegal immigrant. So is his missus."
Hastings watches as Arnott gulps, attempting to rid himself of his drying throat, "It wasn't your fault, son. A clean break. Pastures new."
Arnott nods, slowly. Patting him on the back, Hastings gestures for the man to follow him, "I have a very special case for you."
"What's the case?"
"All in good time," Hastings pauses outside the door of a small meeting room on the far side of the office, "But first, we have a policy at the AC-12 unit which involves our newest recruits meeting with a counsellor before their first briefing."
"Counselling?" Arnott questions, unfamiliar with such a protocol.
Hastings chuckles, knocking on the door, "Our colleague, Beth, is a wellbeing officer for Central Police. She offers to put together a basic psychological profile of each officer and staff, just so we can work out what cases and resources are best for you to work with and how you can best work with us."
At that moment, the door opens revealing a woman, Arnott assesses not much younger than himself. She smiles at Hastings before turning to look at the other man, extending a hand, "You must be Steven Arnott."
He takes her hand in a firm shake, prompting her to continue with a soft smile, "Elizabeth Thornton."
Steve nods in recognition as he looks confused between the two before him, "I don't need counselling."
"The profiling is necessary just for Central Police records; however, any following appointments or support is entirely voluntary," the woman explains, clearly rehearsed as if she has explained it hundreds of times before.
"I'll leave you to it," Hastings pats him on the shoulder once more and walks away to an office a few doors down. The woman stands aside to invite Steve into the small room. Closing the door behind him, she moves to a chair on the opposite side of the table, pulling another out beside her. She gestures for him to sit.
"I already spoke to my superiors about what happened," he remains standing. Surely, he will not be expected to have another interrogation over the accidental killing of Karim Ali. This transfer was supposed to be a fresh start.
Once in her seat, she turns to him, "Oh, this isn't an interview, just a conversation."
The woman watches as the man reluctantly sits down before continuing, "You can tell me as much or as little as you like, AC-12 just wants to get an idea of who they have hired."
"You say AC-12 as if you're not employed by them," Steve prompts.
"Technically, I work for Central Police Head Office and meet with officers from several of their branches. But I am mostly stationed here, my office is just across the room," she points with her pen through the window.
"Do you prefer Steven or Steve? Or something else?" she asks, putting her pen to the form in front of her.
"Steve."
She nods, scribbling more details onto the form.
"What about you? The Superintendent called you Beth."
The woman looks up, the gentle smile still on her face, "Most people call me Liz. Elizabeth or Beth are also fine, I am not offended either way."
She continues writing on her form for a moment before putting it down in front of her. "Now, as this is our first meeting I just have to go through some boring legal titbits before we can get started," the woman begins before Steve has the chance to ask any more of the questions she can see running around behind his eyes, "Apologies, this can take a while. But I will get straight into it."
Steve shifts in his chair as she pulls out a transcript, holding it in front of her yet still looking at him. He watches as Elizabeth clears her throat and begins to repeat the transcript, not once needing to look at the paper, "Anything that is said in this room or in my counsel is confidential under the Data Protection Act of 1998. If you believe at any point information has been leaked to an external source, this may result in criminal liability, civil action, or investigation by a regulating council. At this time, that would be Superintendent Edward Gerard Hastings and Senior Legal Counsel Gill Biggeloe. I just want to assure you personally that the reputational risk is not one I am willing to make. However, I must tell you that a patient's right to confidentiality is not absolute and there will be circumstances that arise that permit and perhaps even require myself to breach confidence and make a disclosure to an appropriate authority, be that the police, social services or a parent, in the case of a child. This breach of confidentiality will only, however, be lawful if authorised by the patient or the law."
She leans back in her seat, throwing the piece of paper to the other end of the table, "Phew, glad that is over!"
"You referred to me as a 'patient'," Steve notes, curious.
Her smile widens, rolling her eyes, "You know how police authorities are. They like to use technical, fanciful words just to make things sound more exciting and official than they are. As I said, this meeting is just an initial profiling so we can help find suitable cases and resources for you. No pressure at all to impress or apply for further wellbeing workshops beyond the next, say, thirty minutes."
The young man nods, understanding and hoping for this to be over with as soon as possible.
"So, Steven Arnott, tell me about yourself?"
Ted Hastings glances at his watch. Forty-seven minutes is a long time for a man who seemed so reluctant. Through his office window, he watches as the meeting room door opens with Arnott emerging first. He notes the hint of uncertainty still etched onto the young man's face, yet his chest swells at the refreshed determination of his brow.
As Elizabeth steps out of the meeting room, Hastings opens his office door and waves to catch her attention. She smiles politely, responding to the gesture, before turning to Steve.
"Most of these spots aren't taken so please feel free to help yourself to any desk you like," she kindly offers, "Thank you, again, for doing that. I know it took a while, especially when you just want to get started, but I believe it is beneficial to the efficiency of this and other units. Pleasure to meet you."
"And you, Liz," Steve once again accepts the woman's hand with a shake, then watches as she walks across the office to Hastings. As the door closes behind them, Steve surveys the space, looking for a desk.
"Well?" Hastings prompts, closing the door behind her and offering her a seat.
"Now, Ted, you know I am bound by legal confidentiality," she teases as she sits down, tucking her appointment folder further under her arm, "But I like him."
Ted sighs in relief, easing into his desk-chair.
"A little bit grumpy and perhaps the tiniest bit dramatic, but he seems decent enough to know right from wrong. We both know that's often hard to come by."
"True, absolutely true," Ted smiles, "Admittedly, I was unsure of authorising the transfer."
"You shouldn't be. You know I can't tell you what he has told me about the Ali incident, but I can assure you he has a strong morality. Might even become a problem for you," she chuckles at the older man's raised eyebrow, "You did a good job finding him."
"Glad to hear it," Ted grins, "I am putting him on the Gates case."
Elizabeth sits up straighter in her chair, surprised, "For his first go?"
"Why not? From what you have said he seems ideal."
She looks out to the young man sat at a far-off desk, looking a little lost, "Just keep an eye on him. I don't think he is fully convinced by all this yet."
"I will take him with me to interview Gates tomorrow, see how he does," Ted explains, pulling her attention back to the older man.
"Please, let me know!" she pleads as she stands from her chair.
"You don't want a tea?"
Opening the door, she turns back to Hastings, "Sorry, not now. I have to type up my appointment notes so I can get that profile sent to you and HO. Keep me updated."
With a small wave, she closes Hastings' door behind her. Walking past Steve's newly chosen desk to her office, she gives the young man an encouraging smile. He returns a seemingly characteristic, uncertain nod. Now, this will be interesting.
Steve arrives back at AC-12, glad to be catching a break after another unsuccessful visit to TO-20 squad, and trying not to notice the amount of eyes on him. Pity, annoyance, sympathy - he is unable to determine. All he knows is everyone in the office is watching him. Spotting Hastings across the room, he takes a deep breath and approaches. As he nears, he notices Liz stood beside him, both speaking to each other in hushed tones.
"What is going on?" he asks, saying it loud enough to alert them of his presence.
Liz is the first to turn, a look in her eye he saw several times throughout their meeting. Not quite pity, the glint in her eye was not so harsh. More empathy.
"Come with me. Let's talk outside," Hastings instructs, leading him away from the desks and prying ears. Steve is unsure why, it seems everyone besides himself knows anyway.
Once out of the office, Hastings does not hesitate to end his confusion, "The corridor has set a date to reopen the inquest into Karim Ali's death. They are going to ask you to testify."
"Only to be expected," Steve mutters, to Hastings' surprise. The young man clearly did not understand the situation as well as he has assumed.
"The firearms officers are revisiting their statements. They are saying you sent them to the wrong flat," Hastings turns to watch Steve's face contort into one of realisation then betrayed disappointment.
When the young man struggles to find anything to say, Hastings continues, "I am fighting your corner. But this can't not affect your position here, Steve."
Watching the man slowly nod in understanding once more, Hastings turns back into the office. Steve listens to the door close harshly behind him, as if a taunting metaphor for his chances at becoming a decent officer closing to him. He is almost tempted to laugh at the irony of it. And yet, he hears the door reopen.
"Steve?" he hears Liz ask, "Steve, are you alright?"
"Yeah," he lies, "I saw it coming."
They stand in a silence for a moment before she moves closer to him. Liz speaks, attempting to reassure the quiet but clearly devastated man in front of her, "Hastings told me he assigned you to the Gates case. He must trust you, see potential. A big case for a first go."
Steve says nothing, just turns his head to look out of the window. She sighs, folding her arms, quietly frustrated he is closing off, "I also heard about the.. the faeces in your car."
At that, Steve turns his head to her a little, brow beginning to crease again. He thought she was meant to be trying to reassure him, not remind him how, well, shit his first week at this department was going.
"I know I shouldn't say this as impartiality is the golden rule of my job, but what a bunch of absolute arseholes. High-school bullying? They are supposed to be police officers, grown men. Beyond immature. You're just doing your job, as they should be too."
Liz takes some pride in seeing Steve's shoulders begin to relax a little. This urges her to continue, "And quite frankly, what disgusts me most of all is how the hell they got it in there."
She hears Steve let out a breath, sounding almost like a laugh as he finally turns to look at her. Liz sees his lips are pursed, as if he is trying not to smile. That makes her grin. He finds himself doing it too.
"Look, you know where my office is. Feel free to come and speak to me whenever you need it. That is what I am here for. Even if it is just to blow off some steam," her grin widens, "You would be surprised how many times a day someone knocks on my door, just screams, then thanks me and leaves. Quite unsettling actually. Seems to help though."
He just nods his head, once again trying to suppress his smile. Liz's grin turns into a smirk, satisfied her job there is done.
"I need to type up some more reports, but feel free to pop by later."
"I have a date this evening," Steve states, unsure why he felt the need to share that. It seems, just as he did in his initial session with this woman, he feels an urge to overshare. He feels his cheeks begin to heat slightly as she smiles at him, sure she will tease.
"Oh, how nice! I hope you have fun, will be good to take your mind off all this nonsense!" he watches her, surprised, as she turns to walk back to the office, "I'll see you soon! Good luck!"
Steve watches the doors close behind her, relieved it no longer sounds so harsh.
"Morning, boys," Liz sighs, groaning as an arm swings around her shoulders.
"There she is!"
"Morning, Mr Kapoor," she attempts to smile at the man beside her.
"How many times, Queenie?" he leans in closer to her, prompting her to step out of his arms, "Call me Deepak."
"That would be highly unprofessional and suggest a more intimate relationship than that of a counsellor and her client," she scolds, trying to put as much space as she can between herself and the young DC as they walked further into the office.
"Would that be so bad?" he grins, revelling in her clear discomfort.
She rolls her eyes, having learnt it was better to keep quiet than supply the TO-20 squad with ammunition.
"Who are you here for?"
"Morton," Liz answers to Matthew 'Dot' Cottan, who had been the one to ask.
"Lucky bastard," he replies with a aggravating grin and exaggerated sigh, earning a chuckle from the other men.
Liz resists the urge to roll her eyes again, instead fleeting them over to the woman sat at the furthest desk outside Gates' office. To anyone else, the brunette woman's face would be blank, devoid of emotion. But not to Liz – she knew Kate Fleming better than anyone. In the second-long glance they shared, she saw annoyance flash across her eyes. Clearly, Kate was not impressed by their antics and asked a silent question if her friend was alright. Liz sends her a small smile, it's fine, before turning away as to not arouse suspicion, knowing Kate is undercover again.
"Queenie!" Liz's attention is forcefully claimed by the man with the cane approaching her.
"Shall we get started? I have another appointment in an hour," a lie. She just did not want to spend longer than she needed to alone in a room with that man. But she reminds herself it is her job and she desperately needs the research. Liz leads the way into the small meeting room in the corner of the office. Placing her bag on the table and pulling out her notebook, she hears the men in the room outside whistle some sort of innuendo. She doesn't know what and doesn't care. Liz has learnt to block it out. She is there to get a job done and to get out and on with her day.
"So, Mr Morton," she begins, taking a seat and watching as the man sits opposite her, carefully placing his cane against the table, "why did you request this appointment?"
"Do I need a reason other than just wanting to see you?" he leers.
She breathes in heavily through her nose, trying to circulate something other than disgust through her veins, "Actually, yes. I am a busy woman- "
The door opening interrupts her attempt to scold the aggravating man in front of her. It is Dot, "Guess who is outside making a right tit of himself?"
She hears Morton chuckle and stand from his chair, holding onto his cane, "Oh, this will be good."
Liz, not understanding but highly grateful for there to have been an interruption to this meeting, picks up her bag and follows. A crowd has gathered in the car park. Passing by Kate who gives her a brief, worried glance, Liz pushes her way past some of the staff to see what is causing the commotion.
She sighs.
Steve Arnott.