Post by skybright on Apr 15, 2006 15:13:40 GMT -5
David Bell hung up his desk telephone and then, after a moment’s deliberation, pushed the appliance as far across the desk as he could manage. He knew logically that it wouldn’t keep Regina Dawson from calling him – it might not even prevent her calling again tonight – but it made him feel at least incrementally better.
“Trouble wit’ the girlfriend?” A painfully familiar voice asked from just behind his left shoulder.
It’s official. God hates me. Bell dropped his head into his hands and muttered, without turning around, “Simpson.”
“Yep.” The big Detective Sergeant leaned over until he was in Bell’s line of vision.
“Suppose you heard all of that.” Bell closed his eyes and wished briefly and futilely for the spontaneous ability to teleport.
“Most of it, yeah.” Arborgast materialized on Bell’s other side, leaning against the desk. “You got somethin’ y’wanna tell us, Dave-o?” He asked lightly, with only the barest edge of a threat in his voice.
Bell sighed and dropped his hands to the desktop. “Anonymous tipster. Says to let you know that Nicholas Tiernan isn’t happy about how you treated Dawson earlier tonight. Says to tell you you’re both in danger.”
Arborgast barked out a quick, harsh laugh. “What’s the big guy gonna do, Dave, weep us t’death with mutie sob stories?” He examined his polished nails and added “Or are you gonna do that yourself?”
Bell straightened his back and did his best to put a dangerous, affronted tone in his voice. “Just what are you implying, Detective Sergeant?”
“I think you know.” Arborgast smoothed back his dark hair and glanced at Simpson. “I mean, it doesn’t really take a detective to put it all together, does it? A couple of people connected to a mutant killer get transferred to a precinct that doesn’t exist: a mutant detective and her mutant associate get released on the say-so of a lawyer workin’ for a mutant activist . . . .” Arborgast leaned in and murmured “And I’m supposed t’believe that a human cop let all that happen?” He chuckled.
“I don’t have to sit here and prove myself to you, Arborgast.” Bell growled, feeling terror build in the pit of his stomach.
“No, you don’t at that.” Arborgast grinned and straightened. “But, of course, you might have to prove yourself to the Captain tomorrow morning.” He grinned viciously at Simpson and patted Bell’s shoulder condescendingly. “I’m goin’ down to Ardie’s for a drink. See you tomorrow morning, Dave-o.”
The dark Sergeant headed for the precinct door; his partner, however, remained leaning on Bell’s desk and watched him leave. Then Simpson glanced at Bell. “Tiernan’s big medicine in this town.” He said without emotion.
Go away and let me die in misery. Bell sighed. “Yeah, he is.”
Simpson nodded slowly. “Th’ alleycat sound like she meant it?”
“Oh, yeah.” Bell sighed and nodded. “Yeah, she was dead serious.”
Simpson nodded again; Bell could almost see the wheels turning in the big Sergeant’s head. At last he grunted and stood up. “Well, I ain’t no idiot.” He said gruffly.
That’s highly debatable . . . “You going to take her advice?”
“Sure.” Simpson scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Don’t hurt to.” He glanced after his departed partner and said philosophically “Man’d be stupid not to.”
Without another word, Simpson shambled off in the direction of the locker rooms. Bell sat staring at his desktop for a long moment, thinking hard. He was barely aware of it when Sgt. Angell – his replacement – nodded in greeting and headed to get a cup of coffee before starting her shift.
Arborgast was going to reveal him. He was going to lose everything; be exposed for the freak he was, drummed out of the Department, and left with nothing but the shambles of his carefully-constructed, deceptively normal life.
Arborgast was in what Regina Dawson thought was pretty serious danger. If anything happened to him tonight, Bell was safe.
Yeah. The safest coward in the history of mutantkind.
Bell stood, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door, inwardly cursing Dawson and her inexplicable ability to stir his otherwise-comatose sense of nobility into wakefulness.
“Trouble wit’ the girlfriend?” A painfully familiar voice asked from just behind his left shoulder.
It’s official. God hates me. Bell dropped his head into his hands and muttered, without turning around, “Simpson.”
“Yep.” The big Detective Sergeant leaned over until he was in Bell’s line of vision.
“Suppose you heard all of that.” Bell closed his eyes and wished briefly and futilely for the spontaneous ability to teleport.
“Most of it, yeah.” Arborgast materialized on Bell’s other side, leaning against the desk. “You got somethin’ y’wanna tell us, Dave-o?” He asked lightly, with only the barest edge of a threat in his voice.
Bell sighed and dropped his hands to the desktop. “Anonymous tipster. Says to let you know that Nicholas Tiernan isn’t happy about how you treated Dawson earlier tonight. Says to tell you you’re both in danger.”
Arborgast barked out a quick, harsh laugh. “What’s the big guy gonna do, Dave, weep us t’death with mutie sob stories?” He examined his polished nails and added “Or are you gonna do that yourself?”
Bell straightened his back and did his best to put a dangerous, affronted tone in his voice. “Just what are you implying, Detective Sergeant?”
“I think you know.” Arborgast smoothed back his dark hair and glanced at Simpson. “I mean, it doesn’t really take a detective to put it all together, does it? A couple of people connected to a mutant killer get transferred to a precinct that doesn’t exist: a mutant detective and her mutant associate get released on the say-so of a lawyer workin’ for a mutant activist . . . .” Arborgast leaned in and murmured “And I’m supposed t’believe that a human cop let all that happen?” He chuckled.
“I don’t have to sit here and prove myself to you, Arborgast.” Bell growled, feeling terror build in the pit of his stomach.
“No, you don’t at that.” Arborgast grinned and straightened. “But, of course, you might have to prove yourself to the Captain tomorrow morning.” He grinned viciously at Simpson and patted Bell’s shoulder condescendingly. “I’m goin’ down to Ardie’s for a drink. See you tomorrow morning, Dave-o.”
The dark Sergeant headed for the precinct door; his partner, however, remained leaning on Bell’s desk and watched him leave. Then Simpson glanced at Bell. “Tiernan’s big medicine in this town.” He said without emotion.
Go away and let me die in misery. Bell sighed. “Yeah, he is.”
Simpson nodded slowly. “Th’ alleycat sound like she meant it?”
“Oh, yeah.” Bell sighed and nodded. “Yeah, she was dead serious.”
Simpson nodded again; Bell could almost see the wheels turning in the big Sergeant’s head. At last he grunted and stood up. “Well, I ain’t no idiot.” He said gruffly.
That’s highly debatable . . . “You going to take her advice?”
“Sure.” Simpson scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Don’t hurt to.” He glanced after his departed partner and said philosophically “Man’d be stupid not to.”
Without another word, Simpson shambled off in the direction of the locker rooms. Bell sat staring at his desktop for a long moment, thinking hard. He was barely aware of it when Sgt. Angell – his replacement – nodded in greeting and headed to get a cup of coffee before starting her shift.
Arborgast was going to reveal him. He was going to lose everything; be exposed for the freak he was, drummed out of the Department, and left with nothing but the shambles of his carefully-constructed, deceptively normal life.
Arborgast was in what Regina Dawson thought was pretty serious danger. If anything happened to him tonight, Bell was safe.
Yeah. The safest coward in the history of mutantkind.
Bell stood, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door, inwardly cursing Dawson and her inexplicable ability to stir his otherwise-comatose sense of nobility into wakefulness.