“What’s with you today, anyhow?”

“With me?”

“What are you, a parrot? You got some kind of hysterical deafness I don’t know about? Yeah, with you. Who the hell else would I be talking to?”

“I dunno.”

“You dunno? You dunno because there ain’t nobody else for me to be talking to. Only you and me in the car, just like always.”

“Too true. Too bad, if you ask me.”

“Hardy fucking har, pretty boy. You love having me as a partner. This is something we both know.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Sure, it is. Now I’ll ask you again. What’s with you today?”

“Come on, man. You don’t need to talk to me that way.”

“Talk to you what way? I wasn’t aware that there was any kind of ‘way’ about the way I’m talking to you. I’m just talking. Just asking my partner what should, in my estimation, be a very simple question. You’re the one making it so goddamned difficult.”

“You don’t need to talk to me like I’m one of your suspects. That’s what I mean. Just the way I don’t have to answer your questions the moment you ask them. I know you’re used to getting your way, but that doesn’t have to extend to me.”

“No shit, Sherlock. It never has. You know, I don’t even know why I bother talking to you. And I definitely don’t know why I bother checking in. Who cares if the little wifey would be pissed to know I stopped checking on ya? It’s not like you’re going to tell her, anyway. You don’t talk to nobody. That’s part of the problem.”

“And you do? Is that it?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re on my case about not opening up and telling you every single thing on my mind, but I don’t exactly see you walking around like an open book, right? It’s not something you do. You don’t get in that car and tell me every hope and dream and fucking fear you’ve got running through your brain. Am I right? Really, I want to know. Because if I’m mistaken then pardon me very much, but I don’t think that I am. I really don’t think so.”

Weston didn’t look at Vick as he said these things, at least not straight on, but he could see the man out of the corner of his eye, and the expression on his face was enough to make him shut his mouth. Hell, he should have shut it a long time ago. He shouldn’t have gotten sucked into this argument to begin with. There was no reason for it, especially not when he knew what his partner was like. This questioning, it was just who Vick was. You couldn’t fault a person for being who he was, or rather you could, but there was absolutely zero sense in it. So then what was it that was driving him to pick this fight? Why was he dissecting the things Vick did when they were the same things he did all of the time, ever since the two of them had known each other?  Because he wasn’t himself, that was why. He wasn’t himself, and now he was taking it out on his partner and friend.

“Look, man—”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Come on, don’t be that way.”

“I said don’t worry about it, alright? You can deny it all you want, but I can see that something’s up with you. I was serious about not knowing why I was asking you about it. I know you ain’t the guy to open up. This thing with you and me, this shtick we got going, it’s like a broken record. If I were smart, I would just stop doing it. That’s exactly what I would do. I would stop asking the questions, stop trying to figure out what’s going on in that messed up head you got. But you know what? That’s a real question, by the way, not one of those rhetorical things where I don’t expect an answer. You already proved you could do a hell of a lot of talking just a few seconds ago, so I’d like you to keep right on participating, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Alright, Vick, I’ll bite. You asked me if I knew what, right?”

“That is correct, my friend.”

“Right. The what is that I’m not gonna stop. I’m gonna keep on asking, and if you wanna be a dick about it, then be a dick. Don’t bother me none. That’s what family does, right? They keep on asking even when the one they’re asking acts like a total prick. So that’s what I’m gonna do. It’s what I’m gonna keep on doing until I can’t do any talking at all.”

“Which will probably be right around the same time that hell freezes over, right?”

“Ha! Yeah, that sounds about right. Now let’s go inside, huh? My balls are sweating so hard they’re gonna slip right off my body if I don’t get into some air conditioning soon.”

“Ah, Christ. You sure do have a way with words, don’t you, Vick? Really know how to paint a picture with ‘em.”

“You know I do, pretty boy. You know I do.”

And just like that, things were good between them. That was one thing Weston always liked about Vick, always had and supposed he always would. For as long as the two of them remained partners, at least, and Weston was hoping that would be for a good, long time. The last thing he wanted to do was try to break in a new partner. Getting to know new people wasn’t exactly high up on his list of activities he enjoyed, and that wasn’t likely to change anytime soon. Besides, with things as crazy and up in the air as they were at the moment, any extra change would only make things harder. It would mean he had to show some new guy (or girl, that was always a possibility, too) the ropes and try to act like a decent guy so that he didn’t make any waves, and he didn’t have time for anything like that at the moment. At the moment, his schedule was just about as full as it could get without the cracks starting to show. He couldn’t have that happen. Right now, he needed to fly as far under the radar as he could get because what he was going to start doing now wasn’t exactly considered kosher. He wouldn’t say it was one hundred percent against the rules, mostly because he’d never precisely talked to the captain about it in this particular instance, but he had a pretty good idea what the answer would be if her were to broach the subject. That was exactly why he wasn’t going to ask. His father had had a funny saying when Weston was young, one he’d heard from others after reaching adulthood but that he always associated with his father nevertheless. The saying was that it was better to do something and apologize for it later than it was to ask for permission and be told no. That was something he’d taken to heart and one of the few pieces of advice he had continued to take after his father had eaten the gun and Weston had lost most of his faith in his old man.

“Hey!”

“What?” Weston asked testily, startled out of his own thoughts by the return of Vick’s loud, coarse voice. “What the hell are you yelling at me for? I thought we weren’t going to do that anymore. At least not for today, anyway.”

“I know that, but you’re just sitting there.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we said we were gonna go inside, and here I am, getting out of the car like a normal fucking human, and you’re just sitting there like a dummy. Unless you want me to leave you in here to bake in the sun, I suggest you get out of the car. This day’s gonna be a scorcher. Or at least that’s what the lady on the weather channel says, and I’m inclined to believe her.”

“Right,” Weston answered quickly, actually sort of embarrassed by the way he’d bitten Vick’s head off for no reason at all. “Sorry. And do me a favor. Don’t say it, okay.”

“Don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. Don’t say what?”

“Don’t ask me what’s up with me again. I can see it on your face that you want to. Please don’t.”

“Believe me, I won’t. I think I’ve had enough of that song and dance for today, too. Let’s just get inside.”

Weston nodded and climbed out of the car. He hadn’t actually noticed how terribly hot it was inside of it until he was no longer there anymore, but once he was standing, he felt it. These were the months in which the New York summer was oppressive, hot and muggy and suffocating. These were the months when all of the really wealthy people, who had nothing they had to do and no obligations, left and went somewhere else. Weston couldn’t do that, of course. He couldn’t just pick up and leave his job on the force because he was hot, and so he acknowledged the sweat beads rolling down his neck and back and the backs of his legs as something he didn’t enjoy but could do nothing about. So he went inside, reasonably sure that Vick and the rest of them wouldn’t ask him anything about what was in the briefcase he didn’t usually carry but had dangling by his side today. The fact that he was so private about himself and so quick to shut it down when other people asked him personal questions worked in his favor, and he made it to his desk without so much as a cursory glance from any of his colleagues. That was good. Getting the material down to the forensics department without anyone stopping him and either telling him he was needed for something else or asking any probing questions (something he was genuinely worried about when it came to the guys in forensics; they were nice enough guys, but they were also sort of socially stunted) was better.

By the time he got back to his desk with his cup of coffee now in hand, he was pretty sure he was in the clear. He’d brought Clara’s dossier with him with the intent of having them tested for prints. It was a longshot, but there was a chance that whoever was tormenting her was already in the system, and if that was the case, he was going to nail the bastard. He was doing it quietly because he knew Vick, and therefore the captain, thought it was a waste of time. Vick didn’t believe Clara,; he didn’t think there was anything wrong aside from her nerves, and that meant they were supposed to drop the thing. What they definitely were not supposed to do was show up at her apartment in the early, dark hours of the morning and then take evidence from her place in order to go rogue with her case. That was definitely not one of the options on the table. He really thought he’d gotten away with it, too, right up until a shadow fell over his desk. When he looked up, he saw that it was Vick, and Vick’s face told him that he wasn’t there on a positive errand.

“Hey, pretty boy.”

“Hey yourself. What’s up?”

“Nothing much. I mean, I guess that ain’t true.”

“Then what the hell is it? Just spit it out, man.”

“I don’t really know, to be honest. But the captain wants to see you, and he don’t seem too pleased.”

“Great. Thanks, partner.”

So that was that, then. Weston had no doubt that the captain had already heard about his little vigilante-justice venture and now he was going to hear about it. He got up slowly, suddenly feeling how few hours of sleep he’d gotten down deep in his bones, and he made his way down the hallway towards the captain’s office. It had only been a couple of weeks ago that he’d made this same walk, but how different of an experience that had been. That time the captain had been with him, exuding all of that false paternal cheer so often exhibited by an older man who wanted something from a younger one. This time he made the walk on his own, no sound of squeaky captain’s shoes to join in the symphony of sounds made by the ancient air conditioners. When he got to the captain’s door, it was shut tightly, an omen of what the conversation ahead of him was bound to look like. He rapped on the thick wooden door, once, twice, a third time in a way he hoped came off as no nonsense. At least as no nonsense as a knock on a door could sound, something Weston wasn’t at all sure about.

“Who is it?” the captain barked impatiently, as if he hadn’t been the one who just sent Vick to come and get him.

“Weston Daniels, sir.”

“Come in,” was the immediate answer, this one even more pissed off sounding than the first. Weston wanted to ignore that summons, to just turn around and walk off in the opposite direction. He would start walking, and then he would keep walking, keep walking until he got to a place where nobody knew him and nobody wanted anything from him, either. Not one single damn thing. Instead, he opened the door and slid inside, shutting the door behind him. He stood silently, waiting for the captain to look up from a pile of papers he was riffling through, probably for the sole purpose of looking busy when the one he wanted to reprimand entered his domain. It was a tactic older than the captain himself. It was undoubtedly meant to make Weston feel inferior and ashamed to have taken up even an ounce of time from such a busy man. Instead, it only made the captain look pitiful, pitiful and dated and a little bit easier to have disdain for than he had been before. When the captain finally did look up to meet his eyes, Weston could see that the dislike was mutual. So, it hadn’t been forgiven then, his refusal of the captain’s offer to be groomed as the next in line for his wonderful and prestigious job. He was in a position of power, and so he shouldn’t have been keeping grudges about that kind of thing, but that was assuming that they were all living in an ideal world, which they so clearly were not. This captain of his was pissed off, and that meant that any dressing down was going to be worse than it might have been otherwise.

“Why don’t you sit.”

“Alright, if that’s what you want, sir.”

“It is. Sit down.”

Weston did as his captain was asking, making sure to maintain eye contact as he did so. If he was going to get a lecture, there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot he could do about it, but there was no way he was just going to sit back and take it with a meek look on his face as if he felt that he’d done something wrong. If that was what he was waiting for, he was going to be waiting for a hell of a long time. Fortunately, for the both of them, seeing as it was going to save them some time, he seemed to pick up on that fact, and although the expression on his face grew even more sour, he cleared his throat and got down to the point.

“So, any idea why I asked Vick to have you come to my office?”

“No, sorry. Can’t say that I do.”

“Is that right? What about that big file full of crap you brought down to Matty in forensics? Does that happen to ring a bell? Make it through that thick, arrogant skull of yours?”

“Come on now, Captain, no need for insult slinging.”

“Well, then cut the shit, will ya? I don’t have time for this. And you know better. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Trying to help somebody who’s in trouble. I thought that was what we were supposed to do.”

“What we don’t do is go off on our own and do whatever the fuck we feel like. All that crap you took to him? What the hell, Weston? You’re wasting resources for a piece of tail.”

“It’s not like that. Somebody broke into her apartment, Captain. It’s happened twice now. We didn’t do anything after some crazy fuck killed her cat. You’re telling me I don’t do anything after—”

“Somebody breaks into her apartment to leave a bunch of papers and useless crap about her past? Get real, Daniels. She’s playing you. This isn’t real. She liked the attention, okay? I talked to Vick. He told me what kind of girl she was.”

“Did he now? And what kind of girl is that?”

“The kind that wants attention. All kinds of attention. Whatever kind of attention she can get, and you’re giving it to her. Looks like you’re interested in doing a little bit more than helping her, if you ask me.”

“Don’t go there, Captain.”

“Hey, who am I to fault you?” The captain continued on with a nasty, solicitous smile on his face, seeming to enjoy himself now that he’d found the sore spot to sink his hooks into. “You’re still a red-blooded American male, right? You wanna catch some action, fine. But don’t go using—”

“I said don’t. Don’t go there. It’s not like that.”

The captain shut his mouth quick, that was for sure, but his eyes returned to that dark, angry look he got any time somebody was audacious enough to challenge him. For a moment, they just sat glaring at each other, sizing each other up in that age-old male standoff akin to a pissing contest. Weston knew that it was probably ridiculous, but there wasn’t a chance that he was going to be the first one to look down. He respected his authority figures, up to a certain point, but he could also be damned oppositional when he didn’t feel like that respect was being earned—and this was a prime example of that very thing. In the end, it was the captain who looked down, creating a subtle shift in the power structure between the two of them that was somehow minute and monumental at the same time.

“Look, Daniels, here’s the deal. You can either take it or leave it, but you need to know that if you choose to leave it, things aren’t going to go the way you want around here. Drop it. You drop this thing. I don’t want to hear another thing about it, you hear me? Not even a peep. As far as I’m concerned that Clara bitch doesn’t even exist. That’s how much I don’t want her to be a part of this precinct. Got it?”

“Got it. Am I free to go?”

“I think that’s probably best, don’t you?”

Weston rose from the chair before the captain even stopped talking. Had he ever thought this man was a decent leader for the force? Had he really? He must have, but any trace of that was long gone. The half a dozen or so steps it took to get out of his office and back into the hallway were precarious ones at best, and he honest to God wasn’t sure that he would be able to get back out that door without saying something that would legitimately get him fired. When he finally had that door shut and was safe on the other side of it, he almost doubled over with relief and the strain of keeping his mouth shut. He took a minute, just standing there, and then began to walk slowly back towards his desk. He had to make a phone call, and it wasn’t one he was looking forward to.