The Guy Who Does His Job
"I'm the guy who does his job. You must be the other guy."
Dignam was in some god-forsaken little shithole of a bar, drinking. And why?
Because William Costigan is dead, and Collin Sullivan is the rat.
When Madolyn, the girl that Dignam and Queenan had assigned as Costigan's shrink, first came to Dignam, he'd asked her where she got the information. When she told him Costigan gave it to her, Dignam knew it was reliable. He'd listened to the tapes that Costigan had given to Madolyn to give to him, and he'd debated taking them to the police. The police didn't like him- not very many people did. However, most of them respected him. And they knew that he was reliable.
And now Dignam had the name of the fucking rat, and the fucking evidence to prove it.
He really only had one legal choice, and that was turn Sullivan in. He couldn't just sit and do fucking nothing, after all; it was his job to do something. But he wasn't sure that turning Sullivan in was enough. Sullivan had also gotten Queenan killed. And then there was Costigan. He'd liked the kid- hell, he'd been the one to pick him. Queenan had agreed, of course, had said that it was a good fucking choice, but it had been Dignam that had fucking picked him.
So Sullivan needed to pay. However, killing him wouldn't do any good; that would make him a martyr. But turning him in just wasn't enough…after all, the cock-sucker probably would get off for good fucking behavior. And that was when the idea hit him. Costigan had sent the tapes to him, wanting him to use them. And he would. Sullivan wouldn't be a martyr; no, he would be a warning. A warning to any other rats that lurked in the force, a foreshadowing of their own fucking fate.
But Dignam knew he had to be smart. He had been part of the force, after all. So he started planning. First, he bought an untraceable gun off some shady internet sight. Then, he acquired plastic gloves, a zip-up body suit, and disposable foot covers. All of these things he handled using plastic fucking bags, making sure that his fingerprints would never touch them. It didn't ever cross Dignam's mind that this was a fucking insane idea, or that he was breaking the law. Collin Sullivan would pay.
Finally, he planned the date. He followed Sullivan around, learned about him, and all the while became more convinced in his belief. It was his job to make Sullivan pay; after all, nobody else would. Even if it was someone else's job, they wouldn't be able to do it. Nobody else ever did their fucking jobs; that was why he had to do this in the first place. If people did their jobs, Costigan would still fucking be alive. Hell, Queenan would probably still be alive.
But now everything was set. He'd sent the tapes to Ellerby (anonymously, of course, so no one could link this job to him), and he was standing in Sullivan's front room, gun up, waiting. Waiting to get his fucking job done, to be rid of this fucking rat. All he had to do was pull the trigger.
Sullivan would die, the truth about the rat would come out, and Costigan and Queenan would be avenged. Dignam nodded, satisfied. He'd done his job.
Wolfie: This is just a short drabble that came in my head. I always liked Dignam, and was glad he killed Sullivan (cause I hated the guy), and I felt he really like Costigan. I don't own these characters. Please review!