Title: Cowards
Rating: Strong T, for some strong language.
Pairing: Flack/Angell, Danny/Lindsay
Summary: "So what if we miss a few paydays? 'S not the end of the world! Meanwhile, people are being killed, attacked, raped... and you'd prefer to... what, exactly? Make your point? Damnit, Jess" The blue flu hits, but does Jess have it for real?
Disclaimer: Nada. Don't own a sausage. Literally.
A/N: Only here for this, then back on holiday for a while. But once school starts, I'll be back! Honest! With Danny and Lindsay gettin' hitched!
The sun streamed in through the crack in the blinds, the breeze from the open window causing them to rattle against the 'sill. Car horns blared and sirens echoed around the bedroom, reverberating around Jessica Angell's aching head. She moaned as she opened her eyes, and shut them quickly again as she saw no empty bottle by her bed. Had she been hung over, she'd have taken an aspirin and told herself to get a grip, but now there was no justification for the pain that seemed to spread throughout her entire body, like fire was coursing through her veins down to her fingertips. Her inner body felt cold and she shivered violently, but her skin was hot and clammy, the bedsheets tangling up in shining limbs. Every muscle ached as though she'd run a marathon, and her sinuses felt shot to hell. A wave of nausea rose inside her like a tidle wave and she clamped a hand over her mouth, jumping out of bed, ignoring the screaming protests from her body.
She collapsed on her knees in front of the toilet bowl in time to empty her stomach contents, coughing as the acid stung her throat. Jess had felt a cold of some sort coming on over the past couple of days but she'd never expected it to morph into the 'flu. Bona-fide, kick-your-ass-'till-you-cry 'flu. She was hardy enough, living in the city. Her mom had allowed her to roll around in the dirt, build up her immune system... And now she was curled up on her bathroom floor, hurting.
She dragged herself back to her bedroom, cursing every word her mother had ever banned her from saying as pain radiated throughout her limbs, gritting her teeth with determination as she reached for her cell phone, hitting speed dial #3, dropping back onto the bed.
"Luietenant Sythe." came the brisk greeting of her CO.
"Loo... 'S Angell. 'M sick... 'flu." she rasped quietly.
There was a moment's pause. "Angell... if you're-"
"'M not makin' a point... I took the damn oath... not gettin' paid doesn't change it. 'M sick, okay?" she growled with as much assertian as she could muster in her current state.
"Sorry. I know you're one of the one's that do it for the honour. Alright, take it easy and come back when you're cleared by the doctor." Sythe sighed, no doubt developing a headache now that another one of his Detectives was out. Jess felt sorry for him. He was a fair man, with respect for his precinct and the work it did. None of them had easy jobs, but Sythe had stuck his neck out on the line on more than one occaision to support his team in a difficult or delicate situation which required more gentle handling than the Detectives of the 1-2 were prepared to use.
"Thanks boss." she hung up. He hadn't specifically said that she had to be cleared by a practising doctor, therefore she could easily get Hawkes to sign off on her, so she'd be back to work in a few days. She hauled her legs into bed, grabbing the bottle of aspirin from her bedside table and swallowing one gratefully. Trying to ignore the steady spread of burning around her body, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep.
Flack dropped his jacket over the back of his chair, rubbing a hand over his tired face. Kaplan's murder had come at the tailend of a double, which meant that he had been forced to put in more unpaid overtime, spending less time in the apartment he could barely afford to live in thanks to the pay freeze. He understood that pay disputes (thanks to tight-fisted beauracrats and over-zealous unions) meant that things got pretty hairy in the financial aspect of the NYPD for a while, but stopping everyone's pay was most definately not the answer. All it did was drum up support for the unions, and cause the 'blue flu' that had swept across the city.
The officers calling in 'sick' with the 'flu' annoyed the hell out of him. He had joined the NYPD and made the promise to protect and serve, and missing a few paydays did not counteract that. In his mind, being a cop depened on loyalty and ability, not how much cash you had in your bank account. His blood ran blue, and the cops that signed up for the paycheck clearly hadn't looked at their credit accounts lately, as it was hardly a substantial amount.
He was not surprised that Danny had joined the unofficial strike. Though the moron was Don's best friend, he also looked for any chance to irritate the brass thanks to his serious problems with authority. A quick glance round told him that only about a quarter of his precinct was off - which included, to his shock, Jess. There was no coffee cup in her trash, and considering the woman mainlined caffeine, that meant she hadn't been in when her shift should have started. This annoyed Flack. He'd thought Angell had the same ethic towards being a cop as he did, which meant hauling your ass to work regardless of some dumbass pay freeze.
Disappointment swept through him as the other cops around him carried on, trying to balance the steadiuly growing mountains of paperwork, additional cases and the lack of support when it came to the legwork. He drained the last of his coffee, dropping the cartonm into the trash as he sat down at his computer, loading up the relevant databases to trawl through the finances behind Kaplan's charity and it's fundraisers. If there was any cash unaccounted for, he could start building a fraud case which meant motive for the killing.
He typed in 'Stuart Kaplan' and waited for the results, before cross-matching the account details from various banks. Although on the surface all seemed in order, Flack was not the most computer literate - he was pretty much limited to database checks and Google. But he knew a woman who could de-crypt, de-code and de-whatever else any computer file he needed. Picking up the phone on his desk, he dialled the familliar number.
"Katie the incredible, how may I rock your world?" A woman's voice greeted him cheerfully.
"Hey, Kate." he sighed.
"Uh-oh. What's up, Don?"
"Whole damn NYPD's gone to hell." he growled, before shaking his head. "Nevermind. Can you work your magic on a few accounts for me?"
"You know it."
Katie Breckan worked at NYPD's tactical support, and was Flack's godsend. She also had Irish blood way back, though it was more apparant upon seeing her, with her deep red hair frequently tied back in an impatient ponytail and catlike green eyes. But she was undeniably brilliant, usually saving Flack's cases when Adam or Hawkes were on another case. She had somewhat dubious contacts that may or may not have been legit, as well as favours she could pull in from various federal agencies - though he dreaded to think what she'd done to warrant such favours.
"Okay. Stuart Kaplan, Deputy Mayor. He was strangled last night at his charity function, and I'm lookin' into all his accounts, finances and whatnot. But if I send you a couple of account details, can you check if they're legit for me, just, ah... find out if there's something there that would make someone want to kill him?"
"Send 'em over, honey." she trilled, before pausing a beat. He could hear the tap-tap-tap of he her keyboard as she opened up the account information. "Wow. Right now, I want to kill him. I mean... have you seen how much this dude was gettin' for his charity? An' he's just... givin' it away! Me, I live in a sixth floor walk up with a damp problem, a roomate on a fold out couch because there's one bedroom-"
"Call me when your done, Kate." Flack chuckled. Kate was completely neurotic at the best of times - one of the many reasons the pair were friends. They balanced out. He quickly dialled another number, equally familliar.
"Hello?" Jess answered the phone after a few rings, her voice cracking.
"Jess, what the hell are you doing?" he demanded, trying to keep his voice down.
"I have the 'flu, Don."
"The hell you do. What's wrong with you? We took an oath, to protect and serve, Jess. So what if we miss a few paydays? 'S not the end of the world! Meanwhile, people are being killed, attacked, raped... and you'd prefer to... what, exactly? Make your point? Damnit, Jess... I thought you were better than these morons..." He ranted, growing steadily more frustrated.
"Screw you, Don. I have the goddamn 'flu, okay? I've puked my guts up, and I do not have the patience to put up with your crap, okay? So do me a favour, and call me when you get a grip!"
Flack stared at his phone, fuming. He would have loved to call her back and tell her exactly what he thought, but he had a mountain of casework, and was expecting a call back from Kate anytime.
Angell jerked awake upon hearing the buzzer in her apartment, signalling someone was waiting outside. It was one of the few security measures her building employed, and she was grateful for it, even if the oblivious Native New Yorker (not a common sight nowadays) in the apartment next-door-would cheerfully allow any old soul to enter... the woman had no sense of self-preservation or basic safety. It irked the homicide Detective.
She pulled herself out of bed, grateful that the aspirin had kicked in, though her head was nowhere near better thanks to her argument with Flack. Moron. Did he really believe that she would abandon her ethics and morals for the sake of a couple of paychecks? Idiot. She pressed the button on the intercom. "Yeah?" she croaked.
"Cut the crap, Jess. It's me. You sick? I'll give you a note!" The irritated voice of Hawkes floated through the intercom, causing her eyes to flutter shut.
"Fine. 'S your immune system. Doors unlocked, I'll be in bed." She shot back with as much venom as she could muster, before turning abruptly and crawling back into the tangle of comforters and sheets she called her bed. The door clicked open a few moments later, and she mentallly tried to prepare herself to do battle.
Hawkes rapped lightly on her bedroom door, before letting himself in. His face was furious, his jaw set. But his expression softened as he saw his friend's sorry state. He nose was bright red from blowing, her complexion sallow from being unable to keep anything down, and coughing non-stop. She was coated with a slight sheen, her shoulders shuddering as she shivered violently. "Oh, Jess. I'm sorry. I... I thought you were doin' the same as Danny."
"Danny? Oh, for God'ssake. I thought he'd grown out of the-" she broke off, dissolving into a coughing fit.
Hawkes nodded. "Yeah, do me a favour? Stop talking. Here. You got a themometer?"
"Bathroom cabinet."
He nodded, opening the cabinet, feeling slightly intrusive. On the shalves were various unopened moisturisers, shower gels, shampoos... a box of tampons and a box of condoms - opened, half-used... a basic medical kit, along with a thermometer. He garbbed it, shutting the cabinet gratefully. He knew Angell was an intensely private person, and he didn't want to disrespect this by snooping. He returned to the bedroom, glancing at Jess. "Open up."
As she sat with the thermometer in her mouth, Hawkes made her a cup of hot water with lemon in it. He would have preferred to give her tea, but he doubted she could keep anything down, and she already hated the drink. But she needed to flush her system with fluids to replace the ones she was losing. If she was in hospital, Hawkes would put her on a saline drip to rehydrate her as quickly and effectively as possible. But any hospital would just throw them out, should he even be able to convince her to go in the first place, which was unlikely. She was stubborn for the sake of being stubborn.
"Drink." he instructed, pulling the thermometer away. "102... yup, you've actually got the 'flu. Does your CO know?"
"Mhmm." She confirmed, laying back with a sigh.
Hawkes leaned forwards, kissing her temple lightly. "You want me to call Flack for you?"
"No." she replied stubbornly, an annoyed expression on her face.
He looked at her. "Jess, whatever's going on with you two, I'm not going to question you on it, but... he cares about you, and you care about him - I see it in your eyes. But you need to trust him."
"Whatdaya mean?" she asked thickly.
"You have trust issues." he replied simply. "You only get called by your last name, you refuse to let people help you, I didn't even know where you lived until a month or so ago, despite the fact that we have drinks practically every week, and I class you as a friend."
Jess shook her head, regretting the movement as it screamed in protest. "Urgh... no, I don't have trust issues, I have security issues. A lax neighbor and a super that never damn well shows up, so the less people that know where I live, the better."
Hawkes gave a slight chuckle. "Okay, but for future reference, I know of one Detective that it would do you good to let in the fortress you've built around yourself."
Tears built up in Jess' eyes. "No. No, you don't. You know a jackass that is judgemental and fickle, and doesn't deserve jack from me."
Her friend nodded, not wanting to press the matter further - he knew that doing so would simply result in injury. "Well, take it easy, Jess. Drink enough fluids and if I catch the 'flu, you're busted, 'kay?"
She nodded gently. "Thanks, doc."
"I'll let myself out, and slide the key under the door." Hawkes replied, before doing so quietly, and then pulling out his cellphone.
"Flack."
"Hey, it's Hawkes. Look, I don't know what's going on with you an' Angell-"
"She's pullin' the damn 'flu." Flack growled down the line.
Hawkes rolled his eyes, jogging down Angell's apartment steps. "Yeah, I thought so too. I've just been by her place to yell at her some, to find she's actually caught a bad case of the 'flu. Laid up in bed, can't keep anything down, pale as a ghost. So quit giving her earache and stop by, will you? She's a wreck, and she's hurting... not just cause of the 'flu."
"...Damn. Uh, thanks, doc. An'... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have acted like a jerk. Shoulda known Jess wouldn't pull this."
"'S not me you need to be telling, brother. Later." Hawkes hung up before Flack could get into an argument. Lord knew he would. While the Detective was fiercely loyal and a good friend, he was also stubborn and blissfully unaware of his attraction to Angell, it would seem.
Flack stood outside Jess' apartment, breathing slowly. He didn't want to face Jess, to look her in the eye and see in her face how he'd hurt her, again. Something he'd promised himself he wouldn't do. He couldn't face her glare, the look that was so much more effetive than his mother's had been when he was a child.
But he'd been an ass, and had to accept the consequences. So he knocked, bracing his shoulders in anticipation for her wrath. he waited longer than expected, and when the door finally swung open, he let out his breath, tension easing from his body as he moved forwards, wrapping Jess into his arms. Her body was frail beneath the blanket and shivering slightly, his irked expression considerably more feeble than her usual.
"I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair, which still smelt like strawberries.
"I know," she croaked, too exhausted to argue.
Flack pulled her up easily into his arms, carrying her through to her bedroom. He laid her down carefully on her bed, pulling the comforter around her, going back to shut the door. He shrugged off his jacket and kicked off his shoes, before crawling onto the bed next to her, smoothing her hair away from her clammy forehead. "Go to sleep."
She eyed him nervously.
"I'll be here when you wake up, okay? Just go to sleep." he murmured, continuing to stroke her forehead as he used to do to Sam when she was sick.
Jess nodded slightly, turning away from him, curling up against him. He looped an arm over her waist, settling down beside her, trying to ignore just how right it felt.