Title: Don't Look Back
Archive: Yes, just let me know where.
Disclaimer: I don't own S.W.A.T. or any of its characters from the movie or the television show. I don't make any money from this, though if you want to pay me, I won't protest.
Rating: T13 for adult language
Setting/Season: After the movie
Spoilers: SWAT – the movie
Warnings: Adult language
Comments/Feedback: Don't forget to feed the Cat!
Summary: Hondo has found a replacement for TJ – Street is not happy with him.
A/N: Huge thank you to my beta Elenna of Polished Quill. Thank you for your patience in trying to instill in me the proper use of punctuation. Thanks for encouraging me to write more, this would have ended up as nothing but dialogue if you hadn't been so persistent.
If you find any errors, they are mine. Elenna worked hard on this and I may have missed making the corrections she noted.
Thanks to the Abilene, Texas Police Department - for letting me put the L.A. SWAT team through your obstacle course. The photographs and descriptions were an immense source of encouragement for the muse.
Thank you to the LJ community Ask A Cop - For answering all my silly questions about handguns.
Thank you to the yahoo!group Fans of Mark Shera - you encouraged me and gave me plenty of muse food. I haven't abandoned you, I'm just lurking.
Ozzy - this one is for you. Get well soon, the police station just isn't the same without The Boss.
And for Fwe and Crimson Black Blood – because you inspire me.
Shane West would make a perfect Luca.
Street was exhausted, and the two cups of coffee he'd already downed on the drive to work were not helping. He hadn't slept well the night before -- for some reason, Errol had been restless, whining and pacing the apartment most of the night, and he was so tired he didn't even notice there was someone else in the locker room until he dropped onto the bench.
"Hey, kid, get outta that," Street said irritably.
The young man closed the locker with exaggerated care and looked up. "I'm not a kid. My name is Dominic Luca."
"Where's your dad? He know where you are?"
"I don't need my dad, pops."
"Who you calling pops, punk?"
"Street! Luca! My office, now!" Hondo commanded from the door.
Street watched the younger man quickly follow Hondo across the hall and took his time getting up and heading out of the locker room. Entering the EC room, he stopped just long enough to grab the cup of coffee out of Deacon's hand.
"Hey, that's mine!" The other man objected.
"Not anymore," Street muttered, sipping the hot liquid as he entered the sergeant's office.
Hondo closed the door as the other officer joined them, "This is Jim Street. Jim, I'd like you to meet Dominic Luca; he's replacing TJ."
"This Jumpstreet reject is his replacement?" Street scoffed, taking a long drink from the cup of coffee.
"Who you calling a reject?" Luca asked, crossing his arms.
"How can he be SWAT?" Street glared contemptuously at the younger officer. "He doesn't even look old enough to shave."
"Look who's talking, Mr. Stubble." Luca retorted and Street slammed the cup down on Hondo's desk.
"That's it, boy!" Street took a step toward Luca, and Hondo cut in.
"Street, back off!"
"You can't seriously think this kid can replace TJ." Street answered, turning to the sergeant.
"I know twenty-three is young, but he's been deployed on two tours in Iraq. After that, three years with Chicago SWAT with five kills."
"Five kills?" Street protested. "TJ had seventeen!"
"Any asshole with a gun can kill," Luca shot back fiercely, leaning toward Street as his voice dropped to a chilly, low tone, "It takes skill not to."
Street turned back to Luca, snapping, "Asshole? You're the asshole!"
"Break it up!" Hondo glared at both of them. "I wouldn't have taken him if he wasn't good, Street."
"Taken him, huh?" Street stared at the other man, adding, "What was it -- adopt a puppy month?"
Luca moved toward Street, raising his fists and yelling, "I'm gonna mess you up!"
"Bring it on!"
"Break it up! Sit, both of you!" Hondo ordered, stepping between them.
He'd guessed that Street would not be pleased with Luca as a replacement, but this was more than he had expected. When they had both settled into the chairs in front of his desk, Hondo settled into his own.
"Luca, your file says you're an excellent shot—98 on the range. Your captain said he hated to lose you."
"You sure you got the right guy?" Luca commented dryly, "Captain Dobbs and I didn't get along so well."
"I've got the right guy," Hondo smiled, cocking his head and winking at Street, "He just said you've got some authority problems."
"I don't have a problem; they have a problem."
"Yeah, you," Street muttered, but Luca said nothing, settling for glaring at the other officer.
"I can see you two are going to get along just beautifully." Hondo grinned, rising. "Let's introduce you to the rest of the team."
He opened the door and led them out into the EC room, where the rest of the team was finishing reports and filing paperwork.
"That's Deacon Kaye," Hondo began, nodding at the tall, muscular black man fixing a cup of coffee.
"Call me Deke," he responded, putting down the cup and extending his hand.
After Deacon nearly dislocated the newcomer's shoulder just by shaking his hand, Luca exclaimed, "What the hell do they feed you guys? Raw meat?"
Hondo smiled and Deke laughed. "Sorry—I haven't had my morning coffee yet." He picked up the mug he'd set down, adding, "and I'm less aggressive after caffeine."
"I'll try to remember that," Luca said, rubbing his shoulder, and Hondo continued with his introductions.
"The guy with the mustache is Michael Boxer."
Boxer was gentler in his greeting, but his grey eyes missed nothing, as he looked the younger man over. A quick smile and nod, and Boxer turned his attention back to the paperwork in front of him.
"And last but not least is—"
"I'm Chris Sanchez," she interrupted. "Welcome to the team."
Luca nodded and shook her hand, but he didn't miss the warning glance Street gave him when his eyes lingered on Sanchez.
"Assignments for you people; try not to get too excited," Hondo said. "Deke, you and Street get to pick up replacement packs for the gear in the truck. Get a move on -- Sam is double-parked outside. Boxer, qualification rounds on the target range this morning, and Sanchez, I want you to show Luca around, starting with the weapons locker -- which, by the way, needs to be inventoried." He grinned at the disappointed reactions. "Something fun for everyone."
"Come on," Chris said, taking Luca by the arm. "You already know where the locker room is, so this is our EC room, and back here is the weapons locker."
Luca followed her to the small room, glancing around. "Quiet and secluded," he leered.
Chris grabbed a rifle and tossed it to him; he caught it easily, and she added, frowning, "Check your equipment."
"Geez, are all California girls as cranky as you?"
"I'm a SWAT officer first."
"Sorry," Luca apologized. "I don't mean anything bad; I'm just kidding around with you." Absently, he pulled the magazine free of the weapon and thumbed the round.
"Kid around with me when we aren't on the clock." She still didn't smile, but her tone was less disapproving as she pulled a pair of clipboards off the shelf.
"Is that a date?" he asked, palming the magazine back into the rifle, and though she tried not to smile, he was too earnest.
"Maybe later." She handed him one of the clipboards.
Luca took it and leaned closer, pulling a pen from her shoulder pocket. "I'll hold you to that."
She grabbed the pen back, smiling, "You don't give up easily, do you?"
Digging a pen out of one of his own pockets, he grinned back at her. "Nope."
"I hear you and Street really hit it off—love at first sight," Chris teased.
"Yeah, it was something," Luca answered with a shake of his head. "I don't think I've ever come that close to slugging someone five minutes after setting eyes on him."
"He'll get over it."
"I won't." He frowned then, and a brief look of anger flashed over his face.
Chris laid a hand on his, "Don't take it so personally -- he's just jealous 'cause he's not the cutest guy on the team anymore".
"Cute? You're calling me cute?" Now he looked slightly annoyed.
"I'm complimenting you, stupid!" Chris protested.
"Oh, so I'm cute and stupid?" He nodded.
"If the shoe fits." Grinning, she slugged him in the shoulder and ducked the punch he aimed at her.
"Ow!" Luca complained, raising his clipboard like a shield. "You're just like my sister -- always hitting me and running away."
"I think I'd like your sister," she laughed, poking him in the ribs with the end of her pen.
"Forget it; I'm not introducing you," he said blocking her pen with his clipboard, "I don't want you two getting together and ganging up on me."
"Then I'll just have to pick on you for her." Chris pushed his clipboard down, tapping her pen on the paper. "Get on it—at this rate, we'll still be here tomorrow."
Luca groaned. "I left Chicago, but there's no escape."
"Tell me more about your family," she prompted, turning to the rack of rifles and counting them silently. "You have any other sisters I should meet?"
Luca moved to stand beside her, counting the boxes of ammunition. "I'm the youngest of five --three brothers and one sister. My dad is a cop, grandfather was a cop, and my brothers and sister are cops. You have no idea what it's like to have to try to measure up to what they've all done."
"Is that why you moved to California?" she asked as she filled out the papers.
"That and --" he paused for a moment, looking her up and down, "-- for all the sexy women."
Chris smacked him on the head with the clipboard, and he yelped as she chided, "Eyes up here, pispás."
Luca covered his head with his clipboard, looking injured. "Did you just call me something dirty?"
Chris laughed. "¿Usted no habla español?"
"You should habla English."
"I don't like that new kid," Street grumbled, settling back in his seat.
"He doesn't seem so bad to me." Deke leaned forward then, grinning. "Kinda shrimpy, but from what I hear, he's got an eagle eye."
Street frowned at the driver. "I suppose you like him, too."
Sam shook his head. "I don't know him, but I know about his family -- the Luca's are a well-known Chicago family; cops going back for generations and not a bad apple in the bunch."
"Always a first time," Street mumbled, and Sam smiled but said nothing more.
"So where are we going to pick up supplies?" Deke asked.
"First stop is the armory for more ammo packs," Sam replied, "and then to the hospital to replenish the medic pack."
"Boxer is the medic -- why didn't he get that detail?" Street complained. He checked the oncoming traffic as they paused in the driveway, and nodded to the driver. "Clear right."
"Boy, you are in a mood this morning," Deke laughed. "Fighting with the new guy, stealing my coffee, and now grousing 'cause you think Boxer is slacking off. Who pissed in your Wheaties?"
"Errol," Street frowned, leaning back in his seat as the truck pulled smoothly out into traffic.
"Your dog? Literally?" Deke laughed.
"No, not literally, though the way he's been behaving lately, I wouldn't put it past him." Street closed his eyes, sighing. "Last night he just wouldn't lie down and go to sleep -- kept whining and pacing, nosing me and waking me up every couple of hours."
"Maybe he needed out."
Street shook his head. "I tried that; he wanted right back in after a couple of seconds."
"Maybe he's lonely."
"I took him out for a jog, and that didn't help."
Deke shook his head. "Lonely for a lady."
"You think I need to find a date for my dog?" Street laughed.
"Hey, don't laugh -- everybody needs somebody."
"Maybe I'll take him to the park tonight and see if he can get a little tail."
Street's reply set Deke and Sam both laughing.
"I'm being serious." Street opened his eyes, glancing at the other two.
"I know; that's what makes it so funny."
Boxer's accuracy on the target acquisition line was perfect. Unfortunately, he was also slow; he was hitting all the targets dead on but completed less than half in the time allowed.
"Dammit," Boxer said, rolling his shoulders after Hondo called time.
"Relax," Hondo advised. "You'll do better on the range." He followed Boxer to the grassy area. "Ready on the line?" he asked, watching Boxer carefully.
"Ready," he replied, and Hondo clicked the stopwatch.
Hondo followed carefully behind the officer as Boxer darted across the green, stopping and firing before rushing ahead. He took out the final targets, waiting on the line.
"Safety on and holster your gun," Hondo said, and the other man put his weapon away.
The range officer checked the targets, pointing out the hits. "Score – 87."
"Not my best," Boxer commented, not meeting Hondo's eyes.
"Not your worst either," Hondo pointed out, filling in the spaces on the report. "It takes time, Boxer. You took a hell of a hit, and two months isn't enough time to heal completely from an injury like that."
"I don't like taking so long to get back to where I was."
"Just give it another month -- you'll be holing a royal flush before you know it."
"You know, Hondo, you're the only man I know that plays a hand of poker with an M6 carbine," Boxer grinned.
"Makes for an interesting game, don't you think?" Hondo retorted, raising an eyebrow, and then his look turned serious. "How is your neck feeling? Do you still have pain?"
"Sometimes," Boxer admitted. "That Sig kicks like hell, and it gives me a twinge when I fire."
"It takes you a couple of seconds to bring it back on track?"
"How about the Glock?"
"Not a chance, Sarge -- I'm not trying to fire that bitch if the Sig rips me up."
"And the Colt?"
"Better, but I don't like the penetration."
"Deeper is better, but if harder hurts, you're gonna have to take it easy for awhile."
Boxer smiled crookedly at the double meaning. "Got it, Sarge."
Nodding, he slapped Boxer's arm. "Let's get back and see how much trouble the kids got into while we were gone."
Boxer laughed, "Are you referring to Street and Deke or Luca and Chris?"
"They're all kids."
"It's almost time for lunch—you want to stop and pick up kid's meals for them?" Boxer joked.
"I like the way you think."
By the time Hondo and Boxer returned to the squad room, lunch was over and the others had gathered to finish the paperwork that went along with their morning assignments.
Hondo sat down on the corner of the desk at the front of the room. "As you all know, it's time for our annual fitness review." Everyone groaned, but Hondo ignored the protests and continued. "I know you're all excited, but let's try to keep it down, okay? We have obstacle course at seven in the morning and firing range and tactical situation in the afternoon, so everybody get some rest tonight. And Fuller has made some changes in the layout."
"Fuller?" Chris frowned. "When is that vato gonna give up on trying to tear us down?"
"What kind of changes?" Boxer asked, apparently resigning himself to the situation.
"He said he'd let me know when we get there."
"Somehow, that doesn't sound like a good thing."