Butterfly
AUTHOR: Lucky.
DISCLAIMER: Except for the creations of the author, all characters, characterizations, situations, and locations described in this unsolicited and not-for-profit work of fiction are the property of ABC Television, Capitol Cities, Inc., Steven Bochco Productions, the many talented people who created the world of NYPD Blue, and the actors who have made that world such a lively place. The author would also like to extend her personal gratitude to Mr. Scott Cohen for his light, his vitality, his inspiration, and for being such a compelling muse. Thank you, sir.
FEEDBACK: To Lucky
Two weeks later
"No shit." Posey switched the phone to her other ear.
"I swear it happened, Pose. And then Brian pulls her out of her car and she ralphs all over him."
"Oh, no shit."
"That's not even the best part. So Brian finally gets her across the pavement and cuffs her, right?"
"Yeah."
"And all of a sudden we hear this 'twang!' and her g-string goes flyin' out the back of her skirt!"
"Oh, for Christ's... So what did Boyles do?"
"Other than having to pick a used g-string out of the vomit on his pants? He puts his face down into hers and says, 'You know, technically, you just assaulted a police officer.'"
"Brian did not say that to her!"
"Yep. And here's the beauty part. She actually pulls it together enough to pick her head up and go, 'Then I guess you owe me twenty, bacon boy.'"
Posey fell back across her bed in a gale of laughter. "Oh, god... I miss that kid. He was the best partner I could have asked for."
"He is that," Morgan agreed. "I thought the job was a blast before I inherited him from you." Posey could hear her best friend switch the phone from one ear to the other. "Speaking of jobs, how's tricks in the Big Apple?"
"All maggots. I've been here two weeks and I've seen enough dead whores to last me the rest of eternity."
"Why are they handing you the rookie beat? They do know that you've been a detective for four years, right?"
"That's what I put on my resume. They've got me paired up with Adonis of Brooklyn, though, so it's not all bad."
"Ooh. Love in the... what is it again?"
"One five... and the light coming from love won't reach Danny Sorenson for several years."
Morgan made a little grumbly noise. "So you're saying he's dumb."
"Yep."
Morgan laughed. "There are plenty of other detectives in New York."
"There are that... there are that..." Posey trailed off, the little off-note entering her voice before she could think to shield it.
"Uh-oh. What's wrong?"
"What? Nothing," Posey said quickly. "Nothing's wrong."
"Dude, I've known you since college. That voice is either 'The guy I'm lusting after doesn't know I exist', or 'I dumped someone I shouldn't have'. Which is it?"
"More..."
"Pose..."
Posey sighed, twirling the frayed tie of her robe around her finger. "I dumped someone I shouldn't have. At least... I don't think I should have dumped him."
"Are you saying that maybe you should have dumped him?"
"I'm saying I did dump him. In the middle of the first date."
"What, he failed the patented Posey Jackson Potential Boyfriend Test?"
"No, he... he saw right through it."
Morgan's breath caught. "Ooh. That's not good."
Posey sat up. "No, see, that's just the point. He passed with flying colors and then turned around and called me on it."
"Son of a bitch."
"That's what I thought. I figured anyone who had the lack of tact to do something like that was just after a night of snatch, right?"
"Usually."
"Except that I think that's what he thought of me for putting him through it in the first place."
"You lost me."
"No, I... The more I think about it, the more I think that maybe..." Posey put a hand to her mouth. "Oh, shit."
"Oh, what?"
"He thinks I was setting him up for a one night stand and now he thinks I'm pissed at him because he's not... he's not that kind of man. Oh, crap. And I unloaded that stupid line at him, too."
"Sounds like you screwed yourself."
"I did there. Jesus, I don't even know how to get in touch with him. How would I even..?" Posey jumped a little, suddenly startled by the sound of her little brass knocker hitting the door a couple times. "Someone's at the door."
"This time of night? Ignore it. They'll go away."
"No," Posey gave a little groan, pulling herself up off the bed and padding quietly over to the door. "I'm just gonna see..." She put her eye to the peephole and gave a sharp gasp.
"No, no... let me guess," Morgan said, trying not to laugh. "It's him, isn't it?"
"I'll call you later." Posey hit the button and hung up, but not quickly enough to miss Morgan's bright laughter.
Posey gathered a breath and crossed her fingers. "What do you want, Detective Denby?"
"I'm sorry, but I left my lame excuse for coming over so late and uninvited in my other pants. Can I borrow yours?"
Posey stifled her giggle and threw the bolts, swinging the door open. "You're welcome to it, but I usually tell people that I need to use their toaster."
He canted his brow at her, sliding his fingertips into his the pockets of his jeans. "Toaster? Why would you need a toaster at eleven o'clock at night on a Thursday?"
"Toast," Posey replied, giving him an innocently quizzical look. "What do you do with your toaster?"
"Fork receptacle. Please consider inviting me in."
"Yes, but doesn't that render me powerless against you?"
He lifted his brows and cocked his head at her. "Are you gonna let me in or not?"
"That kind of depends on why you're here."
He gave her a blank look, then, "I need to use your toaster."
She pretended to consider, then nodded a little. "Oh, well, in that case..." Posey stepped aside and let him in.
He looked around, opening his tanned leather coat and shrugging it off, revealing a plain, white oxford, open at the neck and rolled to the elbows. "You know, I'll bet this 'no furniture' thing is really convenient when it comes time to dust."
Posey took his jacket from him with a chuckle. "Don't get too used to it. Most of my furniture is stuck at a depot in Detroit. They had an ice storm and they're still screwing around with the trucks." She slung his jacket across the back of one of her two kitchen chairs, draping it over her own.
"No, I like it," Harry replied, calling out as he wandered through the small living room. "It has a lot of... floor."
"Well, when the furniture gets here, there will still be the same amount of floor, it'll just have a bunch of stuff on it." Posey came into the room with him and the pair regarded each other in silence for a moment, then spoke at the same time.
"I'm sorry..." A round of nervous laughter followed. Then Harry spoke, running a hand across the back of his neck.
"I know I said that I've done the whole dating thing before, but in painful reality I'm a little... rusty. Under normal circumstances, it would have occurred to me to be flattered that you were impressed enough with the chassis to kick the tires a little."
"And it would have occurred to me not to use my steel-toed boots."
He gave a little shrug. "What's a little dented pride between friends?"
Posey smiled, folding her arms. "A good place to start over."
The pair was left in silence again. This time, Posey broke it.
"Um... did you want some tea or some milk or coffee or something?"
"Could I get the milk in the tea?"
Posey opened up a lopsided grin on him. "Now, let's not get too crazy, here." She turned, motioning for him to follow her. "Come on, goofball."
"I'm not entirely sure yet, but I might consider my sugar options before the night is out, so you might want to stay on your toes." He dropped himself into the unoccupied chair at her little table and watched her fix him a mug of tea. He thanked her as she set it in front of him, then watched with a little smile as she hopped up onto her counter and folded her legs beneath her. He took a sip and his brows jumped a little.
"Dong quai?"
"Yes. I'm impressed. Most people just make a face."
"So you're in the habit of passing out hot aphrodisiacs to unsuspecting visitors?"
"Only the cute ones."
Harry blushed for real this time. "I haven't been called 'cute' since I was fourteen."
"And what do the women call you now?"
He lifted his brows at her. "Asshole."
She stared at him in silence for several seconds, then looked away. "I don't do the guilt thing real well," she mumbled, bracing her elbows on her knees and resting her jaw against her laced fingers.
Ow... ow... I felt that. I know what that is. Harry felt like someone had stuck something into the small of his back and was in- shell scrambling his stomach. The pathological aversion to guilt was not the same as the inability to guilt. If it were, my life would have been so much more pleasant.
Posey turned back to him, fielding his thoughtful, furrowed brow, and wondered exactly what he could be thinking to produce a look that was at once so rescued and so lost. She watched him in silence, then smiled a little.
"Tell me a story."
He looked at her in confusion for a moment, then realized what she was asking him. "All the stories I have to tell would give you nightmares for the rest of your life, little girl."
She fluttered her lashes, dismissing him. "I have plenty of teddy bears to protect me. Tell me."
His eyes cooled visibly as he took another sip of his tea. "Alright, then. I'm a Narcotics Task Force detective. I'm assuming you know what that means."
Posey nodded. "In Detroit it generally means that you're lucky to see forty."
He pursed his lips a little, cocking his head back and forth and pointing his eyes up. "I'm not exactly that kind of detective. I play an eternal round of bad cop. The department decided that the best cover for me was as the poster boy for police corruption."
"Ah. So you don't pretend to be one of them. You pretend to be one of them pretending to be one of us."
Harry smiled. "That's kind of the short definition."
Posey shrugged a little, playing with the hem of her robe. "As long as you remember which side you're really on..."
"Yeah," Harry dropped his gaze into his tea. "So long as I can keep that straight."
"Harry?"
"Hm?" his head snapped up, carefully unassuming.
"Can you still tell the difference between a police shooting and a police homicide?"
He nodded, not entirely sure where she was going.
"Then you're more straight than a lot of cops I've known." Posey glanced around the room, avoiding his sad little gaze as she spoke. "When I think of all the hours that were spent on me when I was younger, all the time and breath wasted on telling me that the cops were the good guys. And then I spent my whole life wanting and trying and training to be one of those good guys." She put a hand over her nose for a second, willing herself not to start crying over it again. "And then I get there and I find out... I find out about the bad guys. The... the racists and the psychos and... they all have badges that look just like mine." Her voice started to break.
Harry pushed back from the table and took his feet, circling to stand in front of her. He didn't put his hands on her, but he moved to intercept her gaze as he spoke. "Shh, shh, shh... Honey, don't... don't do this to yourself."
To Harry's surprise, Posey leaned forward, dropping her legs off the counter on either side of his body and pressing up against him. He put his arms up for a moment, mildly startled, then folded them around her, stroking her back through the baby blue fleece of her robe as she continued.
"No, see, that's just the point. I'm not doing anything. I took an oath to protect the people around me. But... but..."
"But what, baby?"
"All any of them see anymore is a badge... another pig. And... and sometimes, I have to think maybe..."
No! No, please god don't say it. Please don't fall in here with me. "No, baby... no," he whispered into her hair. "We're the good guys, okay? We're the ones who'll always be the good guys." So help us, God...
Posey lifted her head and Harry drew an arm from around her to stroke a few strands of hair from her face. Slowly, she lifted her arms from their place curled up between them and fanned her fingertips over his jaw. As she spoke, she searched his eyes. "Are we?"
Harry felt the heart he didn't know he still possessed fall and break like sudden rain over his dry, flat soul. We are now.
"I promise."
Continued in Part 4.
