Kris's thoughts whirred in her mind, trying to figure out an appropriate way to respond to this unfamiliar situation.
Her and Jill's father, Eddie Munroe, had died young, only 32, the unfortunate result of years of heavy drinking and other equally reckless pastimes. Liver failure had claimed him when Kris was only seven years old and most of what she knew of him came from either her sister's or her aunt and uncle's stories. The stories weren't flattering and neither were they frequent. Jill's version of events were thickly sugar coated for her benefit and as courtesy to her sister, Kris let Jill think she believed her. But deep down she had always known the truth about him. There had always been a certain stigma attached to her late father. His name wasn't often uttered by her Uncle Paul while they were growing up and when it was, it was with a dark, hushed tone, as if he was a terrible family secret, a bad memory best left forgotten.
And in many ways, Kris supposed he was. Her father had been a raging alcoholic, loud mouthed, fun loving but reckless and irresponsible, and from what little she remembered of him, not the best role model two little girls could have.
But he did teach her one thing: Always make eye contact when being spoken to.
It didn't matter if it was him, Jill, the pretty lady behind the counter where he bought his beer, if someone was speaking to you, you damn well looked up and made eye contact.
And so armed with only her late father's advice, Kris stood rigidly in the hallway, the cold plastic of the phone pressed hard against her ear as her enraged sergeant's angry, bellowing voice pounded in her ears and her mind desperately searched for a way to make eye contact over the phone.
The closest thing she could come up with in her panic was to blurt out a quick "Yes'sir!" every few seconds to let her furious sergeant know she was all ears.
"- three goddamn months out of the academy, the two of you greener than my fucking front yard and do you wanna know the first fucking thing I hear this morning?!"
"Yes'sir!"
"What do you think that is? Haven't even taken my morning piss and what do you think is the first fucking thing I hear this morning!? " the big man bellowed.
Kris could hear Ryan clear his throat on the line. Sergeant Cochran had been almost delighted that her phone call had come while he was reprimanding Ryan and had gleefully told her as much. Not one to waste words, he'd simply added her to his audience and continued his reprimand without skipping a beat.
"Uh, that myself and Officer Mu-" Ryan's voice started.
"Shut the hell up, Floyd!" Sergeant Cochran cut him off, momentarily focusing his wrath on Ryan. "Let me tell you what I heard!"
"Yes'sir!" Kris squeaked.
She could almost feel the flecks of spittle that flew from his flabby jowls as Sergeant Cochran raged. Kris flinched at the onslaught, her heart feeling as if it were valiantly trying to claw its way up her throat and out of the hallway. And that was without having to be in the same room as him. The sergeant was a huge, imposing man, the only African American sergeant in their department and very well known for his zero tolerance stance on "department fuck-ups" as he crudely described it. In all her time at the academy, she'd never been on the receiving end of his wrath.
Now, it appeared she was making up for lost time.
"- unauthorized use of a department vehicle, operating out of SFPD jurisdiction-"
"Yes'sir!"
"- conduct unbecoming an officer of the law-"
"Yes'sir!"
He suddenly slammed his big meaty hand against his desk, startling both Kris and Ryan. Kris could hear an empty can of the Dr. Pepper that he often drank skitter off the desk and to the floor.
"-and, goddammit Munroe, will you quit fucking saying that!"
Kris jumped. "Yes'sir! I'm sorry, Sergeant Cochran, sir!" she squeaked.
"You're goddamn right you're sorry!" Sergeant Cochran spat back. There was a crash as the big man stood up and rammed his chair into the wall Kris knew was behind him. "Sorriest fucking excuse for an officer I've ever seen! If it was up to me, I'd have your badge!" She could hear him angrily pacing the length of his desk before crashing his foot into the filing cabinet against the wall. "No! I'd have your badge and then I'd have you arrested, and then - hell, while I'm wishing, then I'd go back in time and slash your fucking tires so you didn't show up the first day of academy!"
Kris continued her wide eyed stare. "Yes, sir..." Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a young woman turning the corner, obviously headed for the row of phones where she was standing. The sergeant's voice must have been doing an excellent job of carrying in the empty hallway, because the young woman stopped short and stared uncomfortably at her for moment before pocketing her dime and backing quickly out of sight.
"And just why in the fuck does Officer Barbie need a squad car at one in the morning when her job duties are answering phones?!"
The loud, angry question jerked Kris's attention back to where it belonged. She was silent for a beat, unsure if he really wanted her to speak, before swallowing and finding her voice. "I… my sister needed my help and-"
"Your sister?!" Sergeant Cochran exploded. "Oh my Lord, your sister! You mean to tell me you took a department car on your off duty hours to a goddamn sorority house because your goddamn sister needed help?!"
Kris frowned. That wasn't quite it.
But after Kelly's outburst in the car earlier, she wasn't sure exactly how much she could tell. Luckily for her, her sergeant hadn't planned on letting her plead her case.
"And you, Officer Dipshit?" he roared, whirling on Ryan. "You just handing out patrol cars like it's Halloween, aren't you? Would you just hand your car and gun and your left nut to any fucking blonde that asks you or do I need to add fraternizing to your list of infractions?!"
"No, sir." She could hear Ryan's mumble nervously and knew his face was bright red just like it was the time his sister had accidentally called Kris by the name of his most previous ex-girlfriend. He wasn't good at hiding embarrassment. "I… I wanted to help."
The sergeant let out a barking laugh. "Help?" he echoed incredulously. "Help?! Son, the only one you're helping right now is your old man and I only say that because maybe all this goddamn embarrassment you put on him will finally get him to retire from the force and work on that fucking pitiful golf game of his some more." He laughed again. "Or change his last name. Hell, you should change your last name, fucking disgrace you are to the badge and to good cops like your father!"
Ryan said nothing in response.
His rage seemingly expelled, the sergeant sighed heavily and Kris could hear his huge frame drop back into his squeaky chair.
"You better believe Chief Floyd is the only reason you two idiots haven't been fired already." Sergeant Cochran said quietly. "Suspended. Without pay. Both of you. Until the department is done investigating your actions. And be aware that I will be very, very vocal during this investigation."
"Yes, sir."
Kris's heart sank as she spoke. A few moments ago, she'd been afraid the sergeant was going to punt the head off of her shoulders through the phone, but this was infinitely worse. Her career had just started and now she'd ruined it. Ryan's as well. Suddenly, Kris found herself both relieved and upset about not being there in person. Her boyfriend's whole world was probably crashing in on him. Being an officer was his whole life and she'd probably ruined it for him too.
Not to mention their relationship.
Sergeant Cochran continued after a moment, his voice softer but no less menacing. "And God help me, you'd better pray that they fire you because if you come back here, I will make your life a living hell until there's a gold watch on my wrist. Now Floyd, get the hell out of my office." His voice grew louder as he turned back toward the phone. "And you, Munroe... get that goddamn car back here. We'll be in touch."
With that the phone slammed shut and a loud buzzing dial tone blessedly took over in Kris's ear. She stood in stunned silence for the next several moments before shakily setting the phone back in its cradle.
Still reeling, she shoved her hands into her pockets and stared into the deafening silence of the empty hallway for several seconds before realizing she'd need a few minutes to gather herself before returning to Jill's room. She quickly sought out an empty stairwell by the elevator at the end of the hall, slipped inside and sat herself down in the relative darkness of her hiding place.
She needed to talk to Ryan, she realized grimly. He'd go straight to his apartment to be alone, she knew, so she'd have at least half an hour to figure out what to say to him. But instead of carefully planning her apology like she planned, the words she'd say to Ryan to counter his anger and keep their relationship intact, she spent the half hour far less productively by sobbing her frustration, stress, humiliation, and feelings of uselessness out into her hands.
When it felt safe to lift her head up, she sniffled, wiped her eyes and, knowing she probably looked like a train wreck, carefully limped her way back into the hallway, doing her very best to look like she hadn't just bawled her eyes out for half an hour in a stairwell. Dodging her way past a few meandering teenagers, she ducked into the restroom and, relieved to find it empty, made her way to the farthest sink and examined her reflection.
To Kris's dismay, she looked exactly like she'd been bawling her eyes out in a stairwell for half an hour. Grimacing, she splashed some cool water on her red, puffy eyes, took a few deep breaths, and then unfortunately succumbed to another pitiful crying fit. This one was much more easily overcome and after fifteen minutes of splashing water on her face and practicing what she hoped was a normal looking expression in the mirror, she pumped a handful of paper towels, dried off her face and, much more put together, headed back towards the row of pay phones in the still empty hallway. Whatever she'd been given for her leg earlier was wearing off, she realized. Her leg was killing her and her head felt heavy.
But, in pain or not, it was time to talk to Ryan. Numb and unsure what to expect, Kris fished into her pocket for some change and,to her frustration,found nothing. She searched all of her pockets and was in the midst of cursing herself for giving Sabrina her only dime, when her fingers finally worked their way around a paper receipt wrapped around a few coins, leftover change from a drink she'd bought yesterday after what would likely be her last shift was over. Somewhat relieved, she plunked two nickels into the slot and quickly dialed Ryan's number.
The phone rang several times before the line cut out and her two nickels clattered noisily into the coin dispenser, conflict unresolved. Kris frowned. He had to be there, she thought determinedly . The nickels went back into the slot and Kris repeated her ritual several more times over the next increasingly frustrating forty five minutes before finally, to both her joy and dismay, a gruff male voice picked up.
"Hello."
Kris briefly considered wasting her nickels and hanging up, but decided against it. "Ry." She said softly. "Hey, it's Kris."
There was no answer.
"You took awhile getting home." Kris rambled, desperate to hear him speak. "You okay?"
"My dad had to take me to work this morning. I took the bus home. I wasn't gonna wait around for him."
The shame and accusation was clear and Kris flinched at his words. "So…" she continued, forcing nervous laughter into her voice. "That could have gone better."
"Why did you call?" Ryan replied flatly. His tone was thick with resentment.
Kris faltered slightly, but kept on. "To tell you that it's gonna be okay." She answered him. "And… that I'm sorry."
Her apology went ignored, only the harsh breathing on the other line betraying Ryan's presence.
"Ryan, please talk to me." She pleaded.
He was quiet for bit longer before answering in the same flat, resentful tone. "I have nothing to say to you."
His anger wasn't a surprise, but it still hurt. Kris rubbed at her temple, fighting the lump in her throat. She'd never seen her normally sweet and easy going boyfriend so angry and certainly he'd never spoken that way to her before. She supposed she deserved it after breaking her word, but what was she supposed to do? Leave Jill?
"I'm hanging up now." He continued in response to her silence.
Well, she probably deserved that too, Kris thought glumly to herself. Still, she had to try.
"Wait! Ryan!" Kris pleaded. It was getting difficult to keep up her calm façade. Regardless of whether he decided to talk to her or not, this would be a very short conversation. "Come on, would you talk to me?!"
"I said I have nothing to say to you."
Kris rolled her eyes. Someone appeared in the hallway and, embarrassed, she gave him her back and lowered her voice to a pleading whisper. "C'mon, Ryan. I said I was sorry."
She heard her boyfriend laugh on the other line but knew it was no victory. "Yeah?" he answered, almost spitting out his words in anger. "You also said you'd have my car back this morning. You also said what you were doing wasn't illegal. You also said you'd never lie to me. What the hell else do you have to say?"
Kris sighed heavily. She'd known he'd be angry, but not like this. The scruffy man who'd wandered into the hallway shuffled over to the phone nearest to her and, humming loudly to himself, began noisily un-crumpling a wad of notebook paper he'd pulled out of his shirt pocket.
And for God's sake, why couldn't they be having this conversation in person and in private?
Kris groaned her frustration and tried to keep her voice low. "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry, but my sister was in trouble! What was I supposed to do?"
"I don't know. I don't care. Just… I really don't want to talk to you right now. I have to go."
His words stung, but determined to make it right, Kris kept at him. She could calm him down, she knew she could. The scruffy man beside her didn't help matters with the gushing baby voiced flirtations he was now trading with whoever had picked up on the other line with him. Kris jerked her eyes away.
"Fine. I don't blame you for being mad at me, but can we talk about this later?"
"I don't want to talk to you later."
Kris blinked rapidly, feeling her eyes start to sting. "Ryan, please." She pleaded softly.
The young man was silent for a moment before muttering something to himself that she couldn't quite make out. He cleared this throat and Kris knew immediately what his next words were going to be. She tried in vain to swallow the lump in her throat, hoping she was wrong.
"No." Ryan spoke up firmly. "I don't think we should talk… anymore. I don't think we should do anything anymore."
She'd seen it coming, known that a break up was a very real possibility this morning, but hearing him say it wasn't something she could prepare herself for. Her blue eyes welled up with tears.
"You're angry." She said flatly. "You don't mean that."
He did though, she didn't need an answer to know that. Nor did she get one.
"I have to go."
The hostility in his voice was enough to make Kris decide to leave him be. No need to make this any more painful than it had to be. She helplessly twisted the phone cord in her free hand and fought hard for the soft, pitiful voice she managed to muster up.
"Okay. I… I love you. Maybe later, we can-"
The line went dead and the loud, harsh buzzing of the dial tone took the place of Ryan's stony silence. Kris bit her lip and quietly hung up the phone. Goodbye, Ryan, she thought dismally to herself. He hadn't been her first boyfriend, not by a long shot, but he was the first one to ever break up with her.
She gathered herself up and slunk out of the hallway, carefully avoiding contact with the man on the neighboring phone, now practically making out with the phone.
So that's how it felt to get dumped.
No wonder people wrote songs about this.
She sighed and looked around, feeling suddenly lost and alone. What now? She couldn't drive the patrol car back to San Francisco now, Jill needed her. But if she didn't soon, Sergeant Cochran would rip her to pieces. Well, what was done was done, she decided. She'd drive it back later. When someone lent her bus money to get back. Or maybe one of the girls could ride with her to drive her back. Hell, she might as well make a day of it, it would probably be the last time she ever drove a patrol car again.
Defeated and heartbroken, Kris wearily limped back toward the restroom, thinking she'd need a few more minutes of privacy and cold water. But halfway there, she realized she didn't have the energy to do even that. She stopped and ran her hands over her hot face. Right now the only person that could help her was lying half dead in a hospital room above her and had enough on her plate at the moment to be worrying about her little sister's relationships and failure. The least she could do was get her act together before her sister awoke.
No time to mope, Kris scolded herself. Jill needed her. She stopped short, suddenly taking notice of her wrinkled and stained uniform. But, not like this. Not yet anyway. Hopefully, Sabrina had a change of clothes in her car that she could borrow.
What a day.
Kris took a deep breath, quickly oriented herself in the unfamiliar hallway and, plastering a big, phony smile on her face, began limping back towards her sister's room, singing softly to herself.
"Boy the way Glenn Miller played, songs that made the hit parade..."
Sabrina matched strides with her ex-husband, forced to break into a jog as he and his companion blew past her. Doing so brought on a faint sense of déjà vu as vivid recollections of this scene playing out many, many times during the last few months of their failed marriage flashed through her mind.
"Hey, wait up! Where are you going?" she called and the irony of that oft uttered statement wasn't lost on her either. It had always been Bill doing the chasing before the divorce though. So that's what it felt like.
Karma was indeed a bitch.
"Bill!"
Finally, Bill stopped, snatching the arm of Garcia as he did to keep the younger man from blowing right out the door without him.
"Yeah." He answered irritably. "What is it?"
Sabrina looked over to see if she could scrounge up some support from Bosley. Her colleague however had not followed her. He raised both hands in a show of surrender and immediately busied himself with blowing his nose.
Sabrina rolled her eyes at him before giving Bill her attention. "I take it the interview didn't go well?"
Bill laughed sarcastically. "You could say that. You could say just about anything and it'd be more helpful than tha-" he just managed to check himself. "…than Kelly was just now."
"What'd she tell you?"
She watched her ex-husband share a look with Garcia before both men snorted.
"She said she doesn't remember anything." Bill explained, his tone confirming what she'd already guessed. Kelly was keeping something from them. "Imagine that. The entire night, she doesn't remember a thing. That is some kind of goddamn miracle, isn't it?"
Sabrina shrugged. Despite how upset she was with Kelly, she wasn't going to let Bill bad mouth her. She surprised herself by coming to her friend's defense. "She had a pretty bad concussion, Bill. She just woke up a couple of hours ago."
"Then why did I waste my time with her?" Bill snapped. "Look, Bri, I said I'd help you, but I have to know what's going on. She clams up like that and I start to think that maybe she's hiding someth-"
"She's not hiding anything." Sabrina shot right back. "She says she doesn't remember, then she doesn't remember."
Bill sighed heavily and muttered something under his breath that Sabrina didn't quite catch. It wasn't completely surprising. While civil to each other, he and Kelly never really had gotten along before, during, and especially after their marriage. Clash of personalities most likely. But bad blood aside, they needed him.
"Look, I'll talk to her." Sabrina started, dropping the hostility from her voice. "You know Kelly."
Bill raised an eyebrow at her. "Sure do." He muttered and the implication of his comment didn't go unnoticed.
Sabrina ignored it. "She doesn't like to be ambushed. She can't think when she gets like that. I'll talk to her."
"You'll talk to her." Bill echoed flatly. He caught Garcia's gaze again and made a show of shaking his head in exasperation. "Why couldn't you have talked to her in the first pl- You know what? Fine. Work your magic. Can I get back to work now?"
"That depends. Do we still have your help?" Sabrina asked.
Her ex-husband groaned. "For now." He answered shortly. "But like I said earlier, you have until tomorrow an-"
"Yeah, yeah I remember." Sabrina brushed off his warning.
Bill eyed her indignantly before apparently deciding to let it go. "At least one of you remembers something."
Instead of giving in to the urge to fight back, Sabrina took a deep, calming breath and glanced over her shoulder at Bosley, who had finally started forward. For some reason, letting Bill go back to the station didn't seem like a good idea. "How about this?" she offered after a beat. "Come to the cafeteria with us, have some coffee- on me, of course - and you can give us a list of questions you want Kelly to answer. Then when she's calmed down, I'll talk to her, hear what she has to say and then give you a call, huh? That something you can work with?"
Bill rubbed his chin thoughtfully and then softened. "Well," he muttered finally. "If I'm gonna waste my day, I might as well waste it with someone better looking than Garcia."
Garcia side eyed him but chose not to comment.
"Or this guy." Bill continued, eyeing Bosley as he approached. "Bosley, right?"
Bosley grinned and extended his hand. "John Bosley." He confirmed in his stuffy sick voice. "Bill Duncan, I presume?"
"That's me."
The two men shook hands before Bosley suddenly inhaled loudly, stepped to the side and let an enormous sneeze blast into both hands. Bill watched him and absently wiped his right hand on the front of his slacks.
"Sorry." Bosley sniffled. He extended his hand to Garcia, but the young officer quickly stuck his hands behind his back and offered him a nod and a quick "How'ya doin'" instead.
Sabrina gave him a tolerant pat on the back and smiled politely at the two officers. "I think we need to get Bosley here some tissues before he starts an epidemic over here. Meet you in the cafeteria in five minutes?"
Bill smirked. "It's a date."
"No, it isn't." Sabrina sang back sweetly.
She saw the faintest smile of amusement return to her ex-husband's face and for a split second he was the Bill she'd married. Clapping Garcia on the back, Bill turned and both officers pushed their way through the double door and out of sight.
Bosley sniffed and made a half-hearted attempt to smooth the many wrinkles and creases on his shirt. "Remind me again what you saw in that weasel." He grumbled moodily.
Grinning, Sabrina reached over and adjusted Bosley's rumpled coat collar. "Oh, well, you know. I was young and stupid." She gave his shoulder a pat and her lips curled into a playful smile. "And besides, it was before I met you, so I didn't know what a real gentleman was."
"Hmm." Bosley muttered suspiciously. "Then I suppose you can't be faulted. Well, while you're on your coffee date, I'm going to step in and see how Kelly and Jill are doing. Which room is it?"
He sent an inquiring look towards Sabrina and groaned as he realized by the look on her face that this was to be a double date. "Oh, no. Aw, c'mon, Sabrina! I came to see the girls, I don't want to talk to-"
But, Sabrina was already tugging him towards the door. "Just for a little while." She pleaded with him. "Then we'll see Jill and Kelly, promise. I know him, he'll be easier to deal with if you're there, so just please come with me, okay?"
Bosley groaned miserably in protest, but was already following Sabrina out the door. "I don't know why I let you talk me into these things." He sniffled and then honked his nose loudly into his handkerchief.
"What can I say? The situation calls for your charm." Sabrina teased, patting his arm.
"Hmph."
"Oh, and you have your wallet on you, don't you?"
Bosley grunted and obligingly patted the bulge in his pocket where he kept his wallet. "Yes, why?"
"Because, I left my purse at home-" Sabrina grinned at him and took his arm. "-so the situation calls for some of your money too."