Post by Jen on Apr 26, 2009 21:36:25 GMT -5
This is the last big time skip, so from now on, assume things occur at a natural pace unless otherwise stated.
June 1997
Harley blinked her eyes, knowing that the sound that woke her up at 2:07 in the morning could not have been her intercom buzzing. She waited a few seconds before she decided that was just a part of her dream and closed her eyes only to hear the buzzer again. She growled as she threw the covers off and got out of bed. She decided to look out her window to see if anyone was outside. She pulled up her blinds and saw someone in a trench coat near the stoop of her building. She lifted her window and leaned out to get a better look at the man.
“Gus?” she called out and he looked up at her. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Can I come up?” he asked.
“Umm…how did you know where I live?” she asked, a little worried.
“I work for the FBI, Harley. I’m sorry, you’re probably freaking out, I’m not like a crazy stalker or anything, it’s just…I didn’t know where else to go. I’m sorry, I’ll go,” he said and started down the street.
“Wait,” she called out. “Come on up,” she finally agreed and went to buzz him in. She didn’t really think Gus was dangerous, but just in case, she slid on her old steel-toed boots and double-checked the location of a sharp knife in the kitchen.
She waited until he knocked on the door and then she opened it and invited him in. He stepped into the apartment and struggled to hold in a laugh as he looked at her. She was in a tank top, cotton boxer shorts and her black police boots.
“Okay, I understand the shorts and tank top for two am, but what’s with the boots?” he asked.
“In case I need to defend myself against the psycho who came to my apartment at 2am. One swift kick to the groin and you’d be down for the count,” she replied.
“I’ll keep that in mind. And I’ll stay out of kicking distance,” he smiled faintly. “Thank you for letting me up, I promise I’m not a psycho.”
“I’m waiting for evidence before I agree with you on that. What’s going on, Gus?”
“My partner was shot tonight,” he said and she froze for a few seconds.
She shook off the chill that came over her and tried to focus on Gus. “Is he…” she swallowed hard.
“He’s at the hospital. Alive, but in serious condition.”
“I’m sorry, Gus, are you okay? Are you hurt?” she asked, looking over him for any blood or cuts or bruises.
“No, I’m fine. I’m just…shook up, I guess. I’ve never been in that kind of situation before. I mean, that close,” he said quickly and squeezed his eyes shut tightly. “My dad…he was a cop in Chicago. He was killed on the job. Shot.” He finally admitted.
“Oh Gus,” she said sadly. “When?”
“I was ten,” he answered.
“I’m sorry,” she replied and fought the urge to wrap her arms around him. “Do you want something to drink? I can speak from personal experience that scotch takes the edge off in situations like this,” she said and poured them each a glass as he wandered around her living room, looking at her pictures.
“You didn’t tell me your husband was a cop too,” he said as she handed him a glass. “Oh hell,” he said as he finally saw the American flag on top of her mantel. “You didn’t tell me that either. How long ago?”
“One year, eight months, twenty-three days. Do you want the hours, minutes, seconds too?” she sighed.
“I’m so sorry, Harley. I never would have come here if I had known. I just thought you might know what I…”
“I do know,” she interrupted him and went back into the kitchen, if only to get away from all of Mallet’s pictures.
“I guess now I know why you quit,” he said as he leaned against the counter beside her.
“Yeah, that was one reason. But it happened to you and you’re still doing it,” she replied and he stayed silent for a few minutes.
“It helps me feel closer to him,” he finally said. “I don’t talk about him much. Not at all actually. I don’t think anyone even knows about it, except for you.”
“I don’t talk about Mallet either. My brother always tries to get me to talk, but it just hurts too much,” she said as she untied her boots and took them off. “I know what you mean about it making you feel closer to him. That was why I had to leave. The force, the house, the state…I had to leave it all or else I would never move on.”
“Are you moving on?” he asked.
“I’m trying.”
“Do you think you’ll ever go back?”
“Back where?”
“To being a cop.”
“I don’t know. Sometimes I really miss it, but then I remember why I left,” she answered.
“I bet you were a really good cop. You probably always played the part of ‘good cop’ too, didn’t you?” he teased.
“Yeah, I did,” she smiled. “I was one of those cops that really believed perps were innocent until proven guilty. And I thought if they were guilty, gaining their trust was the most important thing to do.”
“I’m afraid I fall somewhere on the other end of the spectrum most of the time.”
“What division do you work?”
“Organized Crime,” he answered.
“Then you’re probably right most of the time,” she replied.
“Knock on wood,” he teased and she smiled.
“I really am sorry about this, Harley. I just needed…I don’t know, to talk or not talk, I just needed something and I thought of you. Thanks for the drink. And the listening ear.”
“You’re leaving?” she asked.
“I think I should. Before I do something I shouldn’t,” he added.
“Like what?” she asked, putting her hand on his arm.
He turned and looked at her, silent.
“Gus…” she began, but he stopped her by leaning forward and covering her mouth with his.
Her shock made her freeze for a second, but when she felt his body lean against hers, she instinctively opened her mouth against his and closed her eyes. She had just devoted enough brainpower to move her arms around him when he pulled away.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…I’m sorry,” he said again and rushed out of the apartment, leaving her alone, motionless in the kitchen.
It was a half an hour before Harley could move from the spot where Gus left her in her kitchen. She went to lock the door then went back into her bedroom. She looked outside to see if he was still around, but she saw no one.
She stood in front of her dresser and looked at herself in the mirror, touching her bottom lip with her finger.
“Oh my…” was all she said before crawled back into bed and tried to go back to sleep.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
June 1997
Harley blinked her eyes, knowing that the sound that woke her up at 2:07 in the morning could not have been her intercom buzzing. She waited a few seconds before she decided that was just a part of her dream and closed her eyes only to hear the buzzer again. She growled as she threw the covers off and got out of bed. She decided to look out her window to see if anyone was outside. She pulled up her blinds and saw someone in a trench coat near the stoop of her building. She lifted her window and leaned out to get a better look at the man.
“Gus?” she called out and he looked up at her. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Can I come up?” he asked.
“Umm…how did you know where I live?” she asked, a little worried.
“I work for the FBI, Harley. I’m sorry, you’re probably freaking out, I’m not like a crazy stalker or anything, it’s just…I didn’t know where else to go. I’m sorry, I’ll go,” he said and started down the street.
“Wait,” she called out. “Come on up,” she finally agreed and went to buzz him in. She didn’t really think Gus was dangerous, but just in case, she slid on her old steel-toed boots and double-checked the location of a sharp knife in the kitchen.
She waited until he knocked on the door and then she opened it and invited him in. He stepped into the apartment and struggled to hold in a laugh as he looked at her. She was in a tank top, cotton boxer shorts and her black police boots.
“Okay, I understand the shorts and tank top for two am, but what’s with the boots?” he asked.
“In case I need to defend myself against the psycho who came to my apartment at 2am. One swift kick to the groin and you’d be down for the count,” she replied.
“I’ll keep that in mind. And I’ll stay out of kicking distance,” he smiled faintly. “Thank you for letting me up, I promise I’m not a psycho.”
“I’m waiting for evidence before I agree with you on that. What’s going on, Gus?”
“My partner was shot tonight,” he said and she froze for a few seconds.
She shook off the chill that came over her and tried to focus on Gus. “Is he…” she swallowed hard.
“He’s at the hospital. Alive, but in serious condition.”
“I’m sorry, Gus, are you okay? Are you hurt?” she asked, looking over him for any blood or cuts or bruises.
“No, I’m fine. I’m just…shook up, I guess. I’ve never been in that kind of situation before. I mean, that close,” he said quickly and squeezed his eyes shut tightly. “My dad…he was a cop in Chicago. He was killed on the job. Shot.” He finally admitted.
“Oh Gus,” she said sadly. “When?”
“I was ten,” he answered.
“I’m sorry,” she replied and fought the urge to wrap her arms around him. “Do you want something to drink? I can speak from personal experience that scotch takes the edge off in situations like this,” she said and poured them each a glass as he wandered around her living room, looking at her pictures.
“You didn’t tell me your husband was a cop too,” he said as she handed him a glass. “Oh hell,” he said as he finally saw the American flag on top of her mantel. “You didn’t tell me that either. How long ago?”
“One year, eight months, twenty-three days. Do you want the hours, minutes, seconds too?” she sighed.
“I’m so sorry, Harley. I never would have come here if I had known. I just thought you might know what I…”
“I do know,” she interrupted him and went back into the kitchen, if only to get away from all of Mallet’s pictures.
“I guess now I know why you quit,” he said as he leaned against the counter beside her.
“Yeah, that was one reason. But it happened to you and you’re still doing it,” she replied and he stayed silent for a few minutes.
“It helps me feel closer to him,” he finally said. “I don’t talk about him much. Not at all actually. I don’t think anyone even knows about it, except for you.”
“I don’t talk about Mallet either. My brother always tries to get me to talk, but it just hurts too much,” she said as she untied her boots and took them off. “I know what you mean about it making you feel closer to him. That was why I had to leave. The force, the house, the state…I had to leave it all or else I would never move on.”
“Are you moving on?” he asked.
“I’m trying.”
“Do you think you’ll ever go back?”
“Back where?”
“To being a cop.”
“I don’t know. Sometimes I really miss it, but then I remember why I left,” she answered.
“I bet you were a really good cop. You probably always played the part of ‘good cop’ too, didn’t you?” he teased.
“Yeah, I did,” she smiled. “I was one of those cops that really believed perps were innocent until proven guilty. And I thought if they were guilty, gaining their trust was the most important thing to do.”
“I’m afraid I fall somewhere on the other end of the spectrum most of the time.”
“What division do you work?”
“Organized Crime,” he answered.
“Then you’re probably right most of the time,” she replied.
“Knock on wood,” he teased and she smiled.
“I really am sorry about this, Harley. I just needed…I don’t know, to talk or not talk, I just needed something and I thought of you. Thanks for the drink. And the listening ear.”
“You’re leaving?” she asked.
“I think I should. Before I do something I shouldn’t,” he added.
“Like what?” she asked, putting her hand on his arm.
He turned and looked at her, silent.
“Gus…” she began, but he stopped her by leaning forward and covering her mouth with his.
Her shock made her freeze for a second, but when she felt his body lean against hers, she instinctively opened her mouth against his and closed her eyes. She had just devoted enough brainpower to move her arms around him when he pulled away.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…I’m sorry,” he said again and rushed out of the apartment, leaving her alone, motionless in the kitchen.
It was a half an hour before Harley could move from the spot where Gus left her in her kitchen. She went to lock the door then went back into her bedroom. She looked outside to see if he was still around, but she saw no one.
She stood in front of her dresser and looked at herself in the mirror, touching her bottom lip with her finger.
“Oh my…” was all she said before crawled back into bed and tried to go back to sleep.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~