Disclaimer: Wolf Films owns them.
This morning I finally got my partner back. The touchy, brooding, sarcastic asshole I've been working with for days apparently took a hike overnight. Actually, he looked a little better than normal, and went off to lunch like he used to go off to Atlantic City.
Then McCoy called his line, trying to get a hold of him. Some court thing yadda yadda, he can't make lunch, will I call Ed to let him know.
What am I, a messenger service? I gave him Ed's number and tried to tell myself they were just meeting to go over testimony. And that the bounce in Ed's step when he went off to lunch, and McCoy's nervous voice on the phone, were totally unrelated.
Ed came back from lunch none too happy, but keeping it together. But I get the feeling Asshole Ed is gonna be back tomorrow. And I can't even tell him, Been there, pal. Because first off, no, I haven't, and second, I'm not even supposed to know anything's going on. He doesn't trust me enough to tell me squat.
Which sorta pissed me off at first, but then it made me think. I mean, what must it be like to be a gay cop? To know you can't do the guy thing with your pals, bitching about a clingy girlfriend or nasty ex-wife, because they just might shoot you if they find out the girlfriend's a boyfriend? Damn lonely, probably.
Although, gay angle aside, guys don't open up real easy anyway. I mean, yeah, me and Rey shared a hell of a lot, but that was mostly just circumstances. Serious crap rained down on both of us in those years. You're partnered with a guy when his daughter dies or his wife gets MS... you're gonna talk about more than just sports. A lot of barriers got broken down. That just hasn't happened with Ed.
But he just got another call, at 6:30. McCoy, calling Ed's line again.
"Oh - Lennie. I'm looking for Detective Green."
"He just left."
"For dinner?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"Fuck!" I heard him say off-phone. "Fuck." He cleared his throat, said, "Thanks," and hung up.
Whatever the hell is going on, that didn't sound good. And I'm not looking forward to working with Asshole Ed again, you know?
"Who was that?" Ed asks, coming back from the can. I guess he hadn't left after all.
"McCoy. Don't you have your cell phone on?"
"Battery's low, I'm recharging it," he says, distracted, checking his watch. "What did he want?"
"Trying to get a hold of you. I told him you left for dinner." I pause. "He said 'Fuck' and hung up."
Ed turns around and goes into an IR without a word, slamming the door.
OK, you know what? Screw the silent stiff-upper-lip macho crap. I can't take another couple of days like the last two. So I follow him into the IR.
"Ed. What the hell is going on between you and McCoy?"
On to Part XIV, Ed's POV, by Cassatt
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Briscoe
Copyright June, 2003, Cirocco