A/N: So I know I was trying to stick to one chapter a week, but I couldn't wait any longer. I hope you enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated!
Darryl Morris had been working at his new job in Wood's Close, New York for close to two years now and he was on track to make a promotion this year. Things couldn't have been better for his family. His wife, Sheila, had recently found out they were expecting again and the pair were hoping for a little girl this time around. Mikey and Darryl Jr. were all settled in at school and this year weren't even considered the new kids anymore. Their lives had been practically stress free since leaving San Francisco for the small town life they'd found in upstate New York. Aside from the occasional holiday card or phone call here or there, they had mostly left behind the Halliwells and all the magical goings on behind them, and while they did miss their friends, their lives did seem to be all the better for it. If there was anything mystical around them now, they certainly didn't know it.
Darryl was seated in his cop car alongside his partner, Harold. There wasn't a lot going on in the sleepy little town, not that there ever was. That was one of the things Darryl liked most about living there. It was serene and the only demons and monsters he had to deal with these days came in the form of cheap Halloween decorations.
He sipped at his coffee, lukewarm already from the bitter chill in the air. That was one thing he'd never get used to after living in California for so long. The winters had never been so harsh. He did take comfort in the fact that at least the cold snap managed to deter what little crime went on in the area. It was too cold, even for criminals. As such, that left Darryl and his partner without much to do and they found themselves running radar on passing cars on Main Street. It was at least something to pass the time of their shift.
The radio crackled to life, but neither man was too concerned with it. It was usually just their bored dispatcher, Sylvia, a sixty-something widow with a voice laced with years of cigarette smoke, wanting to have a chat.
"Hey fellas," Sylvia's voice rasped above the static on the comms.
"Hey, Sylv," Darryl said to her after picking up the receiver. "You got a call for us?" He was almost a little hopeful for something to break up the monotony.
"It had better not be another cat stuck in a tree. I'm not scaling another Red Oak in this weather just because Mrs. Neiderman can't keep track of Fluffy," Harold grumbled beside him and Darryl smirked a little.
"Nah, no cats this time. It's probably nothing, but I've gotten in a couple reports of a caucasian male, early to mid thirties, on foot headed south on the outskirts of town near where Route 9 runs through," She informed. "Someone reported he was in the middle of the road and seemed disoriented. Might've been drunk. One caller said he didn't even have a coat on! What kinda schmuck doesn't wear a coat in this weather? That's a good way to catch your death. Thought you fellas might want to check it out, that is if you don't have anything better to do."
"We're on it, Sylv," Darryl assured her, already putting the car in drive. He glanced over to his partner. "A possible public intox sound better than a cat in a tree?"
"So long as he's not belligerent," Harold said to him. "The belligerent ones are the worst."
Darryl just smirked and drove in the direction Sylvia had instructed, navigating the side roads and shortcuts like he'd lived there all his life.
"Damn, this weather just doesn't let up, does it?" Harold asked his partner as it began to snow again. The ground had already had a nice covering of snow, but He looked at the white flakes coming down in front of them, practically causing white-out conditions. "Bet it makes you miss 'Frisco."
Darryl shook his head and kept his eyes on the road. "No one calls it 'Frisco. No one's ever called it 'Frisco," He told his partner in a way that suggested that it wasn't the first time they'd had this particular conversation.
He turned onto the street that Sylvia had instructed them to go to and he pulled over on the side of the road. It was hard to see through the snow and he knew they'd need to go out on foot to look for the man. Darryl and Harold got out of the car.
"I'll take the opposite side of the road," Harold offered to his partner, figuring it would be easier to find him if they split up.
Darryl began to walk the length of the road on the shoulder, barely seeing a few feet ahead of him. The wind whipped around him, the cold air burning his eyes and sending a shiver through him. If someone was out in this cold without even a jacket, he knew it wouldn't be long until frostbite set in.
He soldiered on and finally, the snow began to slack up. Darryl spotted the outline of a man up ahead and he hurried to catch up to him, still trying to be mindful of the slick terrain.
"Sir!" He called out. "Hey! Sir! Wood's Close PD!"
Upon hearing him, the man turned around and Darryl stopped right in his tracks, hardly believing what he saw.