Disclaimer: NBC, MCA/Universal and Wolf Films own them.
Rating: PG
Summary: There's Ed, and there's Jack....
Copyright September 2005 Cassatt
The bricks against his back still held a remnant of the high heat of the day; the air four stories above the ground a combination of cool breezes coming from the moonlit Atlantic and an occasional waft of fetid garbage from cans parked in the alleyway below. Ed Green unbuttoned his shirt down to the breastbone, lifting the cotton away from his neck to let in the breeze. It tickled his skin as beads of sweat dried, one by one. Three feet away, the window that had been his exit route spilled yellow light and outbursts of harsh noise onto the fire escape. The rise and fall of voices, laughter, the clinking of bottles and ice cubes, all accompanied by low music, selected specifically for the guest of honor. Ella Fitzgerald, Frank Sinatra, Miles Davis, Peggy Lee. Ed doubted the coworkers gathered in his apartment noticed the background tunes, and considered once again the effort involved in climbing back through the window simply to turn off the stereo. He rejected it, as it required movement, and he was finally cooling off. Having a moment of relative privacy in the dark. Finally able to breathe.
Ed lifted a beer bottle to his lips and drank a long swig, gripping tightly when his fingers slipped in the heavy condensation. The guy at the specialty liquor store was right -- this beer was nice. "Smooth as silk with only a slight aftertaste," he had claimed. Ed had assumed the flirting was outweighing any pretense of finding something he would actually like and want to serve his guests. Assumed the guy wasn't listening to a word he was saying. Ed could have told him that earrings didn't do shit for him, and neither did hair with a purple streak in it. Even if he was damned cute. Eminently fuckable.
Across the alley, the couple on the third floor started fighting again, their raised voices drifting out of open windows. Their blinds were up, giving Ed a full view into their well-lit living room. He usually kept one eye on them, always half-expecting violence to erupt, though it never had. Their weapons were limited to piercing words and derision. He wondered why they didn't break up, move on, and whether their close friends knew how much they seemingly hated each other, or whether it was only their lucky neighbors who did.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something block light from his living room, abruptly darkening his perch even further. He turned to see Jack McCoy sitting with one hip on his windowsill, facing him.
"So," Jack said, "I've found your hiding place." He extended his arm into the night, slowly waving his hand back and forth. "The breeze feels good."
Ed patted the mat he was on. "It feels better when you're sitting in it."
Jack hesitated, then climbed out, retrieving a short glass from the sill before making his way to Ed's side. "I came to thank you for the hospitality," he said after getting settled. "I need to leave." He picked up the edge of the mat and squeezed. "Huh, this is more comfortable than it looks."
"Chinatown," Ed said. "Just foam inside woven straw. I got used to using one in Hong Kong, when I was a kid. People sleep on their balconies when it's hot. This is a cut down version."
Jack smiled. "No sleeping on the fire escape, I guess."
Ed smiled, too. "Not exactly safe. Even for a cop."
A wave of laughter came from inside the apartment. Jack thumbed in its direction. "They think you're out getting food, or in the kitchen. They might suspect something different now that I've climbed out your window."
Ed shrugged. "They're too busy telling stories to notice. I think they were on Lennie's fourth year when I escaped." He suddenly heard himself and shook his head. "I don't mind them reminiscing about the old days. I just--" He stopped, deciding in an instant that discretion was probably the better part of something. He took another swig of beer.
Jack followed suit, sipping what Ed assumed was Scotch, and looking across the alleyway before meeting his eyes in the dim light. "How many partner changes have you gone through in your career? I'm curious."
"Well, in the Gang Unit, we didn't keep partnerships for more than a few months at a time, because of the turnover rate. Before that, as a beat cop, I had two. Lennie's been my longest." His chest tightened and he drank to cover. Soothe the beast.
Jack nodded. "A tough adjustment."
Ed nodded, too.
"So, what's the plan?" Jack said. "They have someone lined up for you?"
"No. I told Lieu that I'd just as soon work alone, or with whoever's free at the moment, you know, when people get sick." The fight across the way had stopped; Ed looked, and saw the man and the woman kissing. He sighed. "Wouldn't mind working with Mo for a while. He has a good sense of humor. Nice guy. Kinda wish Reina hadn't transferred to Brooklyn...."
Jack was staring at his hands, holding the glass. "Sounds like you're not ready for something else permanent." His voice had dropped, and he continued to study what was on his lap.
"No," Ed said slowly, "not really. Don't see the need for it. I'll be okay."
Jack looked at him, a small smile blossoming. "Why get adjusted to someone new when you can take care of yourself, by yourself, just fine, is that it? Been there, Ed."
Ed's pulse pounded. "I'm not acting like some asshole," he snapped. "I know what it takes to be a cop and live to talk about it."
Jack's smile disappeared; his shoulders twitched; he shook his head, his glance firmly locked straight ahead. After a long, tense moment, during which Ed wavered between smarting and wanting to cut out his tongue, Jack heaved himself upright. He lifted his glass. "Thank you for the drink," he said, his voice tight, and harsh. "And...." He took a deep breath, and this time his tone was more evenly modulated. "Good luck with the transition." He turned without waiting for a response and climbed in the window.
Ed's heart thudded hard as he stared at the opening, once again hearing the noises of the party inside. He quickly downed another hefty swig of beer and followed Jack, practically diving through the window and almost knocking over Cordoba in the process. The front door to his apartment was just closing. The near collision with Cordoba became her clinging to his arm and not for reasons of keeping herself upright, leaving him with no choice but to flash her a slight smile as he extricated himself and begin the too long journey across the room.
"Hey, Ed," Lennie called, "we're thinkin' of starting some poker--"
"Cards and chips in the hall closet," Ed said, striding toward the door. "Felt for the table in there, too."
"Don't you wanna play?"
"Need more beer. I'll be right back." He grabbed his keys from a drawer next to the couch, gently shoving his fellow detectives out of the way to reach it. His mind was calculating the amount of time it could take the elevator to arrive on his floor, knowing that Jack could park a motorcycle anywhere and be riding away within minutes. With his shirt billowing out behind him, moving farther into the distance while Ed stood on the sidewalk and watched him go. No place for explanations, much less apologies.
Ed turned the corner on his floor and his racing pulse immediately stopped, then skipped, once, with force. Jack was gazing out the window that overlooked the street, his hands in his jeans' pockets, both elevators completely silent with no "down" button lit. Ed slowed his pace, trying to come up with a reason why the other man was still there, failing to do so by the time his steps brought him to within five feet. Jack glanced over his shoulder. His eyebrows lifted. Ed had the dissonant thought that it should be him doing that to Jack.
"You're still here," he said.
Jack turned around. "Apparently so."
Ed hesitated, then walked right to him. "I'm glad. That you didn't leave."
Jack waited, but did not respond.
"I am," Ed repeated, then shook his head from a surge of frustration. He pointed to his own chest. "Asshole. Apparently so."
A smile broke across Jack's face, and Ed breathed deeply to see it. "Not an asshole," Jack said, shaking his head. "At least I don't think that."
Ed couldn't help but smile back, feeling his chest relax even further. "Thank you." He heard the elevator moving. "Do you still have to go?"
"I'm getting up early and wanted to take a ride out of the city before I turn in. For some air. Cool off."
Ed spared five seconds to consider his guests, and plunged ahead. "Compromise? Come with me for a little while -- I promise it will be cooler than the building, or probably your apartment--"
"Not back on the fire escape--"
Ed shook his head. "No."
Jack looked intently at him for a moment. "Okay," he said.
"Good," he replied.
"Wow," Jack said, next to him. "I've never actually seen something like this. Heard about buildings, over the years...."
Ed flipped on the lights, to either side of the access door, illuminating only the area in their immediate vicinity of the rooftop. It was enough to give Jack a better view and still be able to see the city surrounding them, and the sky. To Ed's relief, there appeared to be nobody else up here, and after listening, no couples hidden in the corners of the roof garden. He explained how the oasis came into existence thirty years before, when the prior owners decided to grow their own vegetables, how their children, upon inheriting the property, kept it going, adding to the planting boxes and pots of flowers. A sunning deck, a seating area, a small shed, some potted trees.
Jack walked past the benches and tables, slowly turning around with hands on his hips. He pointed to a far corner. "What's over there?"
Ed came to his side. "I think somebody had pigeons or something like pigeons years ago. It's abandoned now." He felt the breeze again, and he fanned his shirt to catch it. It was too bad he hadn't had the chance to bring up some water, he thought, glancing at his companion, who was unbuttoning a few buttons of his own. "Feel better?" he said.
Jack smiled. "Yeah, thanks." Hair falling over his brow fluttered.
Ed nodded, and moved away, deliberately shoving hands into pockets. He noticed a weed growing in a box and yanked it, dropping it in a nearby bucket, dusting off fingers on his jeans.
"Yours?" Jack was right behind him.
"Nah," he said, turning around. "This row belongs to some friends, down on two. I'm not the gardening type."
Jack cocked his head slightly to the right, and Ed could have sworn that he was about to say something, but instead he turned and walked to one of the benches. He sat, stretching out his legs, looking up at the sky. By now the full moon was high overhead, and though the stars were washed out by the city, the moon was bright enough to rain blue light on them both, doing things to that silver hair of Jack's. Ed took a deep breath and joined him.
"So," Ed said, "what did you mean, earlier, when you said you'd been in the same situation I'm in? I thought Serena showed up right after Abbie left."
Jack closed his eyes briefly, then sat up straighter. He looked at him. "It was a few years earlier. I had a second chair who was killed in an accident." Jack sighed deeply. "I worked alone after that, for a while, I just couldn't think about replacing her. Told myself I didn't need to. Until Adam pushed me past my comfort zone. Didn't mean to imply that's what you're doing--"
"No, I know," he said, even if he was not sure he honestly did know that. "But, she was your girlfriend, too, wasn't she? That's what Lennie said -- not that we sit around and talk about your love life -- he told me 'cause it was the last time he fell off the wagon. Wanted me to know his history."
Jack's glance locked with his for a long moment. "Yes, I was in love with Claire. And isn't it cops who say that partnerships are tighter than marriages, or lovers? Good ones, anyway? It certainly seems like you and Lennie had a good one." Jack relaxed into the back of the bench again.
Now Ed wished he had brought his beer. "Yeah, we did." It was his turn to sigh deeply. "He knows damn near all there is to know about me. Like I do about him. And that's not an easy thing to get to. Maybe I'm just not lookin' forward to having to do it all again. Maybe I'm bein' nothing but stubborn, I don't know...." He turned his head, unwilling to keep meeting Jack's eyes and be so brutally candid at the same time. Not ready for this man to see him so easily. Jack patted his thigh, startling him, drawing his glance down to where Jack's hand was now resting, heavy, and solid. Three inches from his own.
Jack said, "I agree with what you said earlier -- you'll be okay. There's no doubt about that. And," he added, his tone gentle, and soft, "change can suck."
Ed nodded slowly, looking at him directly. "I don't do it well," he admitted. Jack's hand hadn't moved; warmth was seeping through the denim covering his leg. Ed let his fingers drift in Jack's direction, his heart thumping a steady, harsh beat with every half inch he traveled. He touched the side of Jack's hand and it did not flinch; he shifted until his hand half-covered Jack's, and still the other man did not pull back. Ed looked down, and maybe it was a trick of the moonlight, or the alcohol fuzzing up his head just enough, but what he was seeing did not look odd, or off. Even if he had absolutely no idea what Jack was thinking. If he was thinking anything at all. Ed glanced his way. Jack was leaning back again, staring at the sky.
Ed was about to make another move, and slip his hand under Jack's to hold it, boldly, and honestly. The rooftop door opened. Jack abruptly pulled away; their eyes met. Accompanied by three people bursting through the doorway, chatting with intense animation, they broke out in smiles, then quiet chuckling, and finally comfortable silence.
Ed stood. "I'd better get back down there."
Jack followed. "Are you supposed to be buying something, this time?"
"Beer. Guess the store was out," he said with a grin.
They walked to the stairway. One of the three called to Ed; he replied with a wave before opening the door. Jack walked through with Ed on his heels.
Five steps down, Jack said, "Are you doing anything tomorrow night?"
Ed's heart started missing beats again. "No. As embarrassing as that is to admit, I've got no plans on a Saturday night."
"Interested in taking a ride with me? Out of the city?"
"Yes," he said without hesitation.
Jack smiled at him directly as they kept descending stairs. "Good."
"Yeah," Ed answered, "it is, isn't it."
Jack nodded. "I think it just might be, at that."
End.