Sending a big thank you to all of you who favorited and followed! It always makes my day to see these stories being read. I'll keep writing if you keep reading! Here's the next segment. Happy Wednesday, everyone!
Quick head's up. This one's rated M: for a couple F-Bombs.
(x)
The morning after Jim Gordon's sentencing came quickly. Madeline understood the stages of grieving all too well. Even after being bombarded by news story after news story reporting on his guilty verdict and prison sentence, she hadn't yet reached that first phase of denial. She was still in shock.
She walked through the doors of the GCPD, a little underwhelmed by how nothing on the surface had changed. Officers brought in suspects. Phones rang unanswered. Detectives chatted over cups of substandard coffee. To the untrained eye, it was just another day at the office.
On top of everything, she went and read the paper that morning. Right after reading about how Jim Gordon was thrown in jail for a crime he most certainly didn't commit, to her sheer delight on page seven she'd found the most scathing review anyone had ever given her book.
Spare yourself a few bucks by not buying this book that only demonstrates what is therapeutically baneful and full of groundless normative musings on every page.
Scott is obviously a woman who can't take good care of herself and is unable to detach her ego from the therapeutic process.
If I could give this no stars, I would.
That and it was due to rain buckets all day and night. It was always a pleasure to be reminded of the lingering injuries left by a long dead and buried psychopath. Already the joints in her leg were tuning up. There would be a symphony tonight of epic proportions.
On the upswing, it had been nearly a week since she made a scene in court and got herself in cuffs, and she was still technically employed at the moment. So far the working plan had been to only step inside the precinct if she absolutely had to. When she did show up, she avoided Barnes completely. Her plan of action was simple. If Barnes didn't see her, he couldn't fire her.
Madeline made her way through the center of the precinct, and her clicking heels came to a sudden halt as she stared forward to see Harvey Bullock slumped over his desk. He had an empty whiskey glass in his hand while an empty bottle perched precariously on the edge of his desk.
A spark of irritation caught fire inside her, lighting her up with anger. She clip-clopped loudly up the stairs and right up to his desk.
He'd face-planted onto the desktop, his ass propped up by his chair, his snores blaring out of him in that awful, complete way she remembered. Like a fork in the garbage disposal. His hat was askew on his head, showing off the graying edges of his otherwise reddish hair. He smelled like he hadn't showered in at least twenty-four hours, and it was clear he hadn't shaved in days.
Madeline breathed an irritated little sigh out through her gritted teeth like steam. She pushed the lip of the empty bottle of whiskey lightly, so that it teetered back and forth on his desk before coming to a full stop. Frowning down at Harvey, she picked up the bottle and slammed it noisily into the trashcan by his desk. She grabbed up the empty glass out of his hand and with a 'fuck it' shrug she chucked that into the trashcan as well, causing it to noisily hit and crack apart, glass on glass.
Harvey didn't even pause mid-snore.
Madeline screwed up her face and smacked him hard in the shoulder. "Wake up," she growled down at him.
He let off a half-conscious groan before he rolled his face away from her and smacked it back down with a dull 'thud' on the desk.
She hit him again, this time with both hands. "I said, WAKE UP!"
He didn't budge, only muttered out, "Get off my jock. Damn woman... Knock it off... Let me sleep..." He snored freshly, short but loud.
She bristled, as it got up every hair on her back. Then she decisively marched over to the water cooler, poured herself a full cup, and stormed back to him. The second she reached him, Madeline hauled back and chucked the ice cold water into his face.
Harvey barked a loud noise of surprise and shot up so fast that he almost fell out of his chair. He caught himself on his desk and shook the water off of himself, like a dog getting out of the tub. "For the love of all that's holy what..." He ran a hand down his face and he squinted up at Madeline, who frowned down at him.
His shoulders fell and he groaned. Aggravation took the place of surprise as he stared upon a visage that she knew he'd seen many times before. He rolled his eyes and yelled up at her. "What the ... What the hell is your damage?"
"Me? What the hell is -my- damage?"
He grumbled as he worked to sit up straight. "Last I checked, I didn't order one of your fun little wake up calls."
"Oh, yeah? Well, somebody has to wake you up," she shot back accusingly. "You're asleep at the wheel."
He ran his hands over his face and muttered something about charging her with aggravated assault and theatrics and writing her a ticket for reckless over-exaggerating.
She raised her voice, though it was still a biting whisper. "You need to get on your feet, wash the booze off your face, and get your ass to work. We don't have time for you to have a fucking relapse."
A loud blaring voice echoed throughout the parapets of the station. "Dr. Scott."
She looked up to see Captain Barnes standing outside his office, arms crossed, a dangerous look in place. "My office. Now."
Madeline's shoulders dropped as Barnes pivoted back around and headed straight back into his office. An annoyed sigh escaped from between her lips while at the same time she dug around in her purse. She pulled out a bottle of Advil and a half a roll of Tums and slammed both down on Harvey's desk right beside him.
"Take these and drink some coffee." As she walked away, she gave him her last parting words, "And do us all a favor. Get your shit together."
Madeline hurried away from his desk and came to a stop right at the entrance to Barnes' office.
She sighed, squared her shoulders, and stepped into his office, shutting the door behind her.
(x)
Captain Barnes rarely looked happy, and when he talked, it always sort of sounded like he was speaking through a megaphone. That morning as Madeline sat across from his desk he had both of his most dominant traits dialed up to the max.
"-Think the media isn't stirred up enough in this town with Gordon found guilty of killing a cop? No, that wasn't enough. You just had to go and give them one more way to drag the GCPD's reputation straight down into the mud!" When Madeline opened her mouth to talk, he said, "I've got reporters, newscasters, and politicians breathing down my neck, asking me what we're going to do about the police department's PTSD epidemic that's apparently hit our entire staff, calling me - That's right, ME - negligent, self-involved, and unconcerned about the mental health of my officers." He threw up white sheets of paper into the air. "That and I've got about fifteen requests for trauma-induced workman's comp littering my desk!"
Madeline drew in a breath as she watched the papers lazily float back down.
Barnes' face reddened as he pointed down to her. "Now, what the hell have you got to say for yourself?"
She replied easily, "I have no guilt or misgivings about how I handled the matter in court. If that's what you're asking."
He paused momentarily, mouth half-open. He licked his lips before he said calmly, "That's cute. That's real cute." Then he drew up and yelled at her with twice the fury, "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kick your ass to the curb right now!"
She raised her voice, because she figured she might have to in order to get him to actually listen to her. "You need me here in this precinct for the exact same reason that you want to show me the door." He didn't immediately bray something back, so she continued, "I'm not here to please people in power. I'm here to do my job and call attention to what's really happening even when it makes those in power uncomfortable or reflects poorly on them."
Barnes glared down at her. "That includes telling an entire courtroom that I run a shoddy operation here? That my men and women don't get the support they need to do their jobs-"
"You're right, okay?" she frankly admitted. "I was out of line. I said whatever I had to say to protect my client. Some of my words got twisted, but the truth is? I caused whatever media circus I could up in there so that Gordon might not be any more humiliated than he had to be. And I'd do it again for any other client of mine, even if it means embarrassing this precinct." She said, "So you come second. That's just the way it is."
Barnes said crisply, "If this job is getting in the way of you properly serving your client base, then it's clear that you don't need the added pressure of having to work here."
Madeline actually found herself calming and her voice becoming softer. "If you need to fire me, because you need to divorce yourself from things I've said, I can understand that." She crossed her arms. "But that's not going to stop me from calling out the officials in this city that are shadier than a box of crayons underneath a beach umbrella. I did it six years ago in Blackgate and I've done it here in this station. And if I can't keep doing it here, I'll find some other government office and do it from there. You can try to blackball me from from working in other institutions around this city, but it won't work. I'll just find another way."
Barnes sat back, watching her. "You're so good at finding loopholes and back doors? Tell me this. How the hell am I supposed to keep you here in good conscience after all the crap you spewed up there on that witness stand?"
She tried a little shrug as she sat back in her own seat. "You suspend me, for a week or two. You'll say whatever biting, sarcastic, maybe true things you want in some public fashion about how I'm a loose cannon who mouthed off without any facts to back me up. Then I make a public apology. A humble one. An honest one. I'll even try not to lay it on too thick, so they might actually buy it."
He narrowed his gaze at her. "Now why am I not surprised to hear that you want to keep this media dance number in full swing?"
She ignored the jibe. "It'll be forgotten, just like every other piece of shit news on TV, and then we'll do what we do best. We'll get back to work."
He looked to the side and breathed out a hard sigh. Madeline hoped that meant that he was actually considering her words.
She decided one more point couldn't hurt her. She looked at him carefully as she said, "You'll find another forensic psychologist to replace me. They'll be good, maybe even better than I am, where it counts. And they'll be way less of a pain in your ass. But they won't give you what you really need."
Barnes squinted at her. He waited almost a minute before he said, "I'm guessing that this is the part where you're going to enlighten me as to what that might be."
"You need people like me," she said. "And like Harvey Bullock-"
"Harvey Bullock is a drunk who consorts regularly with prostitutes when he's not dodging work or completely disregarding direct orders," he threw back at her. "Now, if you think I need any more of-"
"You need Jim Gordon," she said more loudly, cutting him off. "Unfortunately, none of us are going to get to have him here, not for awhile." When she watched what she said hit the Captain, she tried to make herself sound softer, "No matter what I said in court, you've done the impossible in this precinct. You cleaned house and hauled out as many crooked cops from this station as any one person could. Which no one else has been able to do before now. I watched Essen try to do it. And she couldn't."
Then something wonderful happened. For a moment, Barnes was quiet.
Madeline said, "Now, when I see egregious corruption go down here and sleazy cops pulling all sorts of revolting criminal shit I can't stand, I'm not going to bring it to your door and I'm not going to let you handle it." His eyebrows went up, and she continued, "I'm going to make a public display and deal with it myself. Because I'm angry and because it's gone on for far too long."
He honed in on something then. His voice went down an octave. "You ever stop to think about how that might make you a target-"
"I don't care," she breathed out, sounding tired and frustrated. "And what's more, I don't think I ever have."
Barnes sat up straight at his desk and leaned over, folding his hands. Madeline tried not to pay attention to the flip-flopping of her stomach.
He gave her a long look of consideration before he said, "You'll stay here working strictly on probationary status until I say otherwise. You will make no public apology and you will no longer go to the media with -anything- having to do with this station. If I see your name in the same sentence as GCPD, if I hear one sound bite, if I even get a whiff that maybe you're thinking about going to the press with anything, you're done."
Madeline nodded curtly before she said, "Understood."
"And you'll watch your attitude," he said. "And let's get one thing straight, just so this is made emphatically clear. This is not your office, where you can do whatever you please. You're under my roof. So I say what happens when. You got that?"
She sucked in a deep breath, calming her first instinct to fire something back, and made herself say, "Fully gotten."
He watched her like he might a carpet snake. "Good." He looked up to the door and said with finality, "You're excused."
Dr. Scott stood up and walked over to the door. She put her hand on the doorknob and turned back to address him once more. "I know you already have this impression of who you think Harvey Bullock is." He looked up at her, and she said, "But you need to ask yourself. Who was keeping Jim Gordon alive -before- you got here?" She shot him an intense stare. "Because most the time? I bet it wasn't Jim Gordon."
She left, closing the door behind her.