|Partners to Friends
Author: LSMunch PM
Munch muses over the makings of a partnership. Oneshot.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Words: 716 - Reviews: 8 - Favs: 2 - Published: 07-07-06 - Status: Complete - id: 3032159
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: Not mine.
To be frank, I didn't like him the moment the Captain told me we were going to be partners. His clothes were appropriate for gang life, and his speech the same, though he did have his moments of actual educated conversation. I thought of him as no more than a temp, someone I was stuck with until the whole business concerning Monique was cleared up. I assured her of that many times in those troublesome, throbbing headaches of weeks. But as time wore on, a part of me became resigned to the fact that this Narc hotshot, the Cowboy, as I called him, would be my partner for far longer than either Monique or I wished.
While Monique and I had our differences, some that we could never quite get over for the other, Cowboy and I were polar opposites. Once Monique had moved to Vice, and there was no hope for her coming back, and no hope for me ditching Cowboy as a partner, the fact became clearer and clearer. The Foster case seemed to me the breaking point. I was trying to be the sensible, veteran detective and all he was doing was screwing things up. Living up to the name I had given him by playing hard and fast, when I was trying to finesse things, like I had learned worked for the most part in such high profile cases, even if all you wanted to do was beat the hell out of someone.
Neither of us understood the other. I had him painted as a Narc, a cowboy, the moment I met him. I don't know what he had in mind as a description for me, but I can be sure it was just as flattering as mine for him. It took him a week or so, maybe longer, to get the hang of the dress code. Rape victims don't generally enjoy talking about their sexual history to a man that looks like he's about to break into a rap about banging bitches against bathroom walls, someone as capable of raping them as their rapist. I'm sure we must have made quite a sight, an old Jewish man in a suit, with a middle-aged black man decked out with all the accoutrements of a gangster. He even had a gun to threaten them with. It was comical.
Although, despite our many differences, it seemed to come in handy when dealing with racist rapists. To be arrested by a Jew and a black man must have been a real kick in the nuts. Of course, we used this to its full potential, accentuating the very things that the arrested party hated. I would talk about how expensive things were nowadays, throwing in Yiddish phrases and words now and again, while Fin simply talked about the 'Hood. We enjoyed ourselves on those occasions, somehow bonding over a racist rapist who sat hand cuffed in the back seat.
There were other things to be sure. It wasn't simply torturing a racist. Eventually, against our wishes at the time, we got to know more about each other. Of course, cases like EMily McKenna's and the Bowry Stalker sure helped things along. It's difficult to sit through a five hour car ride and not get to know each other somewhat better. And to share a motel room for a couple nights... there are certain things you learn whether you want to or not. I suppose we just gave in to the inevitable, and allow time and events to bond us.
Now... now we're friends. Real partners. We've both had our scares when the other got shot, wounded in the line of duty. For both of us, I think it solidified our partnership and friendship. There are things you learn about yourself when you get shot, and things you learn about yourself when your partner gets shot. It took a few years for us to get there, but now that we have, and now that it has passed, I've started to forget that first year, especially the first few months of it. Neither of us has ever mentioned those times, and I have a feeling we never will. It doesn't matter anymore.