Title: Cowards
Rating: Strong T, for some strong language.
Pairing: Flack/Angell, Danny/Lindsay
Summary: "It's not so bad for you. You're a guy, you're first grade in the homicide squad with the highest arrest rate in our precinct, and your dad is Donald Flack. But me... I'm third grade, transfer from Jersey City, a girl... It's not so simple." The IA interview puts more pressure oin Flack and Angell's already strained relationship.
Disclaimer: Nada. Don't own a sausage. Literally.
A/N: Urgh! Midst of horrible exams, and I messed up last chapter. Mac is not tolerent of hearing about Danny and Lindsay's problems on account of their kid being his godchild, as aforementioned kid is still a foetus. Bear with me, I don't think sensibly.
Jess sat in the interrogastion interview, her arms folded purposefully. While she understood that IA had a job to do just like anyone else on the force, it seemed to her that they took a little too much pleasure in it all. Her interviewer faced her with a superior smirk on his face, half-leering in a way that Vicaro could learn a thing or two from. She raised an eyebrow. "I presume that at some point, you plan on actually questioning me?"
He smirked a little more, leaning forwards, his forearms resting on the desk between them. "Detective Angell, can you describe the incident as you remember it, please?"
Jess nodded. "We - Detective Flack, myself and Todd Flemming - entered the precinct, where there was a problem with a serial felon named Cadillac Kligman. He was resisting arrest, so I suggested that Flack took Mr Flemming through to the interrogation room. Once they were out of the room, Mr Kligman jumped on some of the desk, and begun assaulting the officers trying to arrest him, so several Detectives, including myself, drew our weapons and got him down on the ground. That's when I heard Detective Flack shouting that he needed assistance and an ambulance in interrogation."
Lt Bruce Jackson nodded, scribbling something down in his notes. Jess smirked. If he was anything like her, he was either doodling, or weighing up the odds of Rangers winning the hockey the following night, since the interview was being recorded anyhow. "How would you describe Detective Flack as an officer?"
"He's one of the best." she replied immeadiatley, not needing to deliberate. "He's compassionate, a good investigator, fair, reasonable and he has one of the highest arrest rates in our precinct."
"Okay." Jackson nodded again. "And as a person?"
"A person?" she had a sinking feeling in her stomach. IA never asked about personality types. It would be like Mac basing his plans on a horoscope. "What do you mean?
"Is he good to work with? Friendly? Rude? Arrogant?"
D, all of the above, Jess thought tiredly. "Um... he's a good Detective, so by default he's good to work with. I learn a lot, he's dependable, reliable... he's friendly, but still professional."
"Do you trust him?"
"With my life." she answered automatically. It was true. Although there was many a time when she felt like jamming her Glock into the moron's gut and emptying the mag, she still entrusted him with her life and wellbeing.
"Detective Angell, do you think that Detective Flack is capable of killing Todd Flemming, accidently or otherwise?"
"No."
Jackson sighed, and leaned forwards. "You and Detective Flack first approached Todd Flemming when he was at wrestling practice, correct?"
Jess had her poker face fixed in place, trying not to get tired with the repetition. "That's correct."
"And what was his demeanor?"
"He was fine." If the IA were going to keep asking her pointless questions which she'd already answered, what the hell was the point in her even staying on the investigation? Surely they would all be better off if she could just get back to her job.
"Did you notice any... injuries, when you picked Mr Flemming up? Bruises?" Jackson prompted, his voice striking a note in Angell's mind. Why the hell was he asking about bruises? Surely the moron didn't actually believe that Flack had hit Todd Flemming.
"No." Her answer was curt and honest.
"Was Detective Flack ever alone with him? In the car, maybe?"
She kept her tone neutral. It was a trick she'd learnt young, at home. When he father had discovered something out that she regretted, if she kept her tone completely neutral, he was unable to tell if he was lying. So if it worked with her father, she had no doubt that it would work on some IA detective with a bad attitude. "I drove, Detective Flack sat in the back with Mr Flemming. We were together the entire time."
"What about at the school? Flemming was in his street clothes at the time of his death, I'm assuming he changed somewhere."
"In the lockerroom."
"And who accompanied him?" Damn. Now she could see where this one was going.
She shifted ever so slightly in her seat, tilting her head to study Lt Jackson. He was a small man, slightly overweight with a slightly disparraging look in his eyes. She could tell that he looked down on standard NYPD Detectives - a side-effect of woking for IA, along with a slight head-up-butt tendency. "Detective Flack."
"Detective Flack." He repeated, scribbling down a note. Probably reminding him to do his dry-cleaning, she thought crossly.
"Look, Detective Flack did everything by the book. the guy's a total professional."
"Unlike your relationship with him, which I understand is... less than professional."
An anger bubbled through her. Not only was that wrong, but totally cruel. If she wasn't gonna get the guy, she should at least not have to put up with being put through the rumour mill as well. She glared at Jackson, her temper now limited. "Not only is that none of your buisness, but it has nothing to do with Todd Flemming's death."
He nodded. "Thank you, Detective Angell."
Jess watched as he switched the tape recorder off and sighed. "Detective Angell, I'm going to be honest with you now. Detective Flack is in a lot of trouble right now. Lt John Malley's heading the investigation, and he's a hard-ass. If he thinks that Flack's guilty... if Flack gives him any rope at all, Malley'll use it to hang him with."
Jess caught a glimpse of something in his eyes. Something he wasn't saying. "What?"
"Angell... there are... rumours going around about your relationship with Flack. I'm not saying that I believe them, or that you'd lie for him, but realistically? Your statement won't count for much, if anything. You'll be credited as unreliable, so your statement won't help him."
She squeezed her eyes shut for a split second, silently cursing every single senior officer that she could think of, starting with Flack. "Thanks, Jackson."
"Watch your back, Angell." he warned her, holding the door open for her to pass through.
Jess scanned the squadroom, finding that her limbs were trembling slightly with the adrenelin and anger. Her eyes focussed on Flack, sat rounded in his pathetic excuse of an office chair, looking pissed off. For a moment, she felt herself soften slightly. Flack was getting screwed over by the brass, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. But in the end, he'd gotten her screwed over as well, for no good reason. So she didn't feel too bad for him.
"You're looking at the newest member of the rubber gun squad." he informed her bitterly as she approached, sitting on the edge of his desk. "I've been officially removed from active duty."
Darting a brief glance around, she dropped her voice low enough so that only he could hear. "Care to explain why I've just been grilled by IA about our relationship?" she asked, unable to prevent the word 'relationship' from slipping out dripping in disdain and irony.
He raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"Yeah. IA just snidely implied that I'm sleeping with you, which quite clearly I'm not."
"Look, Jess... no offence, but I've got bigger things to worry about right now than squadroom gossip." he sighed, giving her a look that was both self-pitying and sympathetic which she supposed was meant to be kind, but unfortunately came out looking horribly patronising.
"Lockeroom, now." she glared.
Jess was well aware of several eyes cast their way as they hurried through to the lockeroom. She and Flack - before the unfortunate and wonderful kiss incident - had been close, even for partners. They were frequently caught about town together, which had obviously sparked some rumours. Though she had been able to brush them off, she was now all too aware of the smirks and raised eyebrows being tossed in their direction. It made her skin crawl as she quickened her pace, putting space between them.
After a brief check of the room the ensure that they were indeed alone, Jess turned to face Don, a thunderous expression on his face. He paused for a split second before sitting down on the bench between the two rows of lockers. "Look, Jess... I'm sorry. I know you hate being in the rumour mill, but I don't know what you want me to do about it. You know what they say - protesting's as good as confessing. I don't see why this is a big deal-"
"A big deal? Flack, do me a favour - don't try reduce me to some shallow little bitch trying to get in your pants, whining all the while. This is a two-fold. One, my statement now means squat with IA, cos they're convinced that I'm lying to protect you. Two, I want to know how the fuck people have guessed something's going on!" her voice had raised a little, anger and hurt flaring in her eyes.
Flack sighed. "Jess, I'm not saying that. I'm not. It's just... I don't really give a damn what people think about us. Whatever's going on, it's our buisness, not theirs. It's nothing to do with anyone else, so Martinez and Maka can gossip like tenth graders, and I wouldn't give a damn. Yes, your testimony meaning jack is a pain in my ass, but it's not the end of the world, okay?"
She relented slightly, her face softening slightly. "It's not so bad for you. You're a guy, you're first grade in the homicide squad with the highest arrest rate in our precinct, and your dad is Donald Flack. But me... I'm third grade, transfer from Jersey City, a girl... It's not so simple. And for rumour to fly around that I'm sleeping with another officer, let alone one that outranks me... It's just another reason for the brass to pass me up for a promotion. It might not mean a lot to you, Don; you've earnt your stripes. No-one questions you being here. But this is bad for me."
Don thought about this for a moment. Jess was not the type to show weakness. Any problems, any personal dilemmas, any bad boyfriends, she'd deal with it all herself. She kept her distance, shut herself off. In all the time he'd known her, she'd only truly let her guard down once.
Don picked up his mobile, glaring at Danny who was laughing drunkenly, at an otherwise un-funny joke. His friend had invited him out for 'a couple of drinks' then decided to get totally wasted, leaving F;ack to ensure he got home safely. The case had been successfully solved, having found that the killer of the restaurant owner to be a cockroach fanatic with a sideline in murder. He needed some form of relatively sober company, so decided to call Jess, who had also solved her case, though hadn't looked altogether pleased with herself as she usually did. In fact, she'd mumbled something about a headache and gone home, ignoring his offer of company. He dialled her number quickly, unable to stop the smile spreading across his face.
"Yeah?"
"Jess, you want to come for a drink? Danny's a bitch when he's drunk, so it'd be nice to have some company." he offered.
She sniffled on the other end, her voice sounding thick and quiet. "Uh... I'm... No, not tonight, Don."
The happiness disappeared as he heard her sobbing quietly, the sound distorted by her hand over the mouthpiece. "Jess, what happened?"
"Th-The case... shouldn't b-bother me, b-b-but..." her voice trailed off, sending Flack's heart down into his stomach.
"I'm on my way. I'll be ten minutes, tops." He glanced at the bartender - a friendly man named Frankie, an ex British Special Forces guy who resembled a refridgerator on legs. "Yo, Frankie... I'mma call Danny's girl, 'cos I gotta take off. Can you make sure he stays on the damn stool 'till sh' gets here?"
Frankie chuckled at Danny's placid features. "He's not started whining like a bitch yet, so sure."
Flack dialled another number.
"Monroe."
"Hey, Linds." he greeted his friend cheerfully.
"Hey, Don. You alright?"
"Yup. But, ah... I gotta take off - friend o'mine needs a shoulder. Your boyfriend's plastered, so would you like to come get him, or should I dump his ass in a cab?"
Lindsay didn't even bother wasting his breath denying her relationship with Danny. Don had been teasing them both for about a year, and she knew better to argue with him about it. "I'm on my way."
"Take care, hun. Buh-bye." he hung up, grabbing his jacket. "Thanks, Frankie." Don faced Danny, gripping his shoulder. "Messer, listen t'me. I called Montana, she's on her way. Stop drinkin', and behave like the gentleman I know you're not, okay? No monkey buisness, else I'll kick your ass."
Danny beamed. "Lindsay! My pretty pretty Lindsay. She's my Montana, Donnie."
"Uh-huh. Bye, Danno."
Flack was able to hitch a cab and get to Jess' in seven minutes, taking the stairs two at a time. Damn her, for living on the fifth floor of a walk up. Damn the brass for not paying her enough to live in a place with an elevator. He didn't bother knocking, just took the spare key from behind the fire extinguisher which he knew she stashed, and let himself in.
And his heart broke.
Jess was curled up on the couch, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. her shoulders were shuddering as she sobbed uncontrollably, her eyes red and her face streaming with tears. Her t-shirt hung limply from her shoulders, her sweatpants looking too big for her. She looked so fragile, so breakable that Don felt physically sick. Then he begun to hate himself. Because even though she was hurting, she was still one of the most beautiful people he'd ever met.
"Jess." he whispered as she glanced tearfully at him. "C'mon, what happened?"
"She was a baby, Don." Jess replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "Six frickin' years old. Pretty as Linds, with big brown eyes an' curly hair. Th' bastard her mom brought home while she was pissed outta' her mind came back while she was gone - babysitting, he said - raped her, Sid said 'bout four times. Sh' musta been terrified, Don. then he stabbed her, thirteen times 'n the chest. She was just a baby! She didn't do anythin'!"
Don sat down next to her, wrapping a thick arm around her shoulders, holding her tightly against his chest. He could feel her tears soaking through the thin material of his shirt, but he didn't move, just holding her tightly, stroking a hand through her hair. "It'll be okay, Jess. I know it's hard, and I know it's unfair. But you did that little girl proud, 'kay? You got the bastard. You did her proud."
He pulled her round so that she was sat in his lap, her face buried into his neck. He inhaled the scent of her shampoo - vanilla, if he was correct - and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. Her small hands bunched up the front of his shirt, trying desperately to grasp at some sort of control. But Flack didn't care. He merely held her until the sobs subsided.
When she finally regained control, she faced him with embarassment. "Sorry, Don. I've got no idea what came over me."
He tilted her face up so her eyes met his. "Jess, there's nothing wrong with it, okay? You had a bad case. Don't think for a moment that cryin' over it makes you anything less than normal. Everyone does it."
She nodded, yawning. Her entire body was drained of energy, and she could barely be bothered to move.
"Go to sleep, Jess. I'll stay here 'till you do."
She studied him for a moment, before nodding She trusted him.
"Jess, you deserve to be here. You're a damn good detective. IA are just causing trouble. After all, it's me that they doubt, not you. Just keep yo head up, okay?" he told her with a slight smile.
"Save the pep talk, Don. I don't need it. I'm pissed, I'm not doubting myself. And the last person I need telling me how goddamn freakin' awesome I am is the guy that-" she stopped abruptly shutting her eyes for a moment. She was Jessica Angell, NYPD Detective, bleeding blue, tough as old Russian Army boots. She was not going to fall apart. Not here, not with him. Taking a steadying breath, she opened her eyes to find Flack watching her, his eyes curious. "I'll keep working the case. I'll clear your name for you. But I do not need to take crap on your behalf."
He watched as she walked away. And somehow, he had the feeling that she was walking away from more than just the conversation.
Mac had been right. They had made it in time for the third quarter of the hockey. The Rangers were up by three, and the defense looked string so there was no fear of Ligning comin back and screwing them over. He sat at the bar, thanking Mac as he bought them both a beer.
"None of us doubted you, y'know." Mac infrmed him calmly. "Not Stella, no Danny, not Lindsay - who I should warn you, is quite hormonal at the moment - and definately not Angell. No-one thought you were capable of this."
Flack nodded, taking a long drink of the amber liquid. "It's just... it feels like even though everyone looks out for you on he street, when people doubt you in the office, there's no-on there to get your back."
"I know." Mac nodded. "You forget, I've been through the same thing, but even further. And Danny, all those years ago. We all know what you're going through, and we all know how hard it is."
Flack glanced up to see Jess sat in the corner booth, her eyes fixed on the screen. He didn't know she went to this bar; her regular was across the otherside of Manhattan. She had a beer in one hand, and had changed out of hework clothes into jeans and an NY Rangers t-shirt. It vaguely raised a pang of pride and sadness in him. Pride, because he'd converted her from being a devils fan after a two hour debate which developed into an argument, which Flack eventually won. She'd bought her t-shirt the next day. And sadness, because he knew that despite all his protesting, all his fears and doubts, that Jess was the perfect girl for him, that she was the one he wanted to be with.
Jess was fully aware of Flack's eyes on her. But she didn't move. No, if he wanted to talk, then he could come to her. She had made her move, and he'd dodged. If he wanted to move forwards, she wasn't going to be the one to put herself out there again.
She could feel his gaze on her, him watching her every move. But she could also see someone approaching her.
He was around six foot, with sandy blonde hair, slight stubble and smiling brown ease. His walk was laid back and easy, suggesting charm and self-confidence. He dressed casually, with an open shirt over a t-shirt and jeans. She put him at about thirty years old.
"My name's Sam." he greeted her with a grin. "I'm thirty one, I've neber been called a player in my life, I'm a fifth-garde teacher and my last relationship ended 'cos my girlfriend ran away with my best friend."
Jess recoiled. "Um... do I know you?"
"Nope. But I was gonna ask if you wanted a drink, an' I figured that it's best to get the basic questions over first."
She couldn't help but laugh at sam's brazeness. Then her eyes flitted to the bar. Flack was watching them, watching how close Sam was stood to her, watching her smile.
He turned away.
Fine, Jess thought angrily. You want to give me up? Fine. She smiled back at Sam, holding out her hand. "Jessica Angell. Want a drink?"