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
Posey opened her eyes.
There was a little angel in front of her. A mouth-breathing, stubble- coated, floppy-haired angel that sounded very much like a miniature buzz-saw with a loose cotterpin, but an angel nonetheless.
Posey smiled, whispering silently. "Hi, baby." She lifted a hand to carefully stroke the few jet locks that had fallen onto his temple back over his ear.
Harry smacked his mouth a few times, then opened a sleepy eye on her for a moment. Without comment, he lifted his arm and pulled at her, rolling her first onto her stomach, then her other side, curling around her from behind. A little chill went up her spine as he nuzzled at her, settling himself against her with a sigh. She heard him flop an arm around behind him, then the free edge of the comforter they both lay on was tucked around her as he pulled her close. He took a few steady breaths, then cleared his throat a little.
"What time is it?" he grumbled softly.
"Daytime," she whispered back.
"Close enough."
The pair lay in warm, sleepy silence for a moment, then drifted off again.
"Is your building always this cold?"
"Only at five thirty in the morning, love."
Harry rattled his keys in the lock and tossed the door to his apartment open.
"After you."
Posey stepped carefully into the dark little apartment, blinking and trying to look around. "I'm not going to get snared by any booby- traps or anything, am I?"
He flipped on the light and flashed her a grin. "Only my cunning charm."
Posey took the room in, not exactly sure at what she found, but knowing that it wasn't anything like she'd expected.
The great room in Harry's apartment was painted, over the doors, over the curtains, over everything, in a vast, encircling mural of a desert sunrise, starting at the black carpeted floor in midnight blue and stretching up to the ceiling in uneven, overlapping shades of purple and red and orange, up to a creamy, white pink where it touched the silver blue ceiling. Scattered through the room were modest, earthtoned pieces of furniture. A loveseat, a small easy chair, a footstool that didn't seem to belong to either of them, but matched them both anyway. Pressed against the far wall was a mahogany bureau and chair, absolutely covered and surrounded by what looked like hundreds of pieces of white paper. On the desk, under the paper, was something in the shape of a manual typewriter, but Posey could barely see it. Opposite the bureau, a tall, winged chest towered, the same color as the bureau. Its doors were closed, but its open wings were crammed full of books, journals, NYPD procedure manuals, bound manuscripts, and all manner of bits and sundry. Framed photographs, dried flowers, tube socks...
Harry folded his arms, leaning back against the door and smiling as he watched her spin slowly to look at the room again and again. "What do you think?"
"Who did this?" she asked in a hush, turning around again.
"I did."
"Why?"
"I've never been in the desert."
"I have, and this... this..." Posey trailed off, stunned that someone who had never seen the sun come up over the salt flats of Death Valley could have painted this perpetual dawn.
"It was... it was like..." Harry shifted his weight, looking at his feet as he drew her eyes. "I didn't have to be in the desert. The desert was in me and I could... I could see it. I'm sure... I'm sure that doesn't make any sense..."
Posey watched him for a moment, then went back to where he still stood, sliding her arms around his waist and pressing her ear against his heart. He only stood, hands in his pockets, but she could feel his body fill in her arms and the smile he hid in her hair. They stayed that way for a few seconds, then Posey picked her head up to look into his eyes.
"How long did this take you?"
She could have sworn his eyes frosted just a little, but his smile stayed true. "I had found myself with quite a bit of free time in the not too distant past." He cooled her with his gaze for a moment, then, "Stop looking at me like that."
Posey stung a little, carefully clearing her expression. "Like what?"
"Pity. I don't want it."
Posey looked away for a moment, then stepped back from him, unable to stop the wry smile that twisted her face. "That didn't take long, did it? She gets a weekend, and then..." she made a little 'pfft' noise, turning her back on him and going to the window. Posey lifted the gauzy curtain aside and looked down into the street, talking into the glass. "Get ready. I want to make the drive before the morning rush."
"What? Because I don't want your pity now you're pissed at me? Chicks are unfathomable as a general rule, but this is just ridiculous."
Posey pretended to ignore him, grumbling quietly into the window box, "Buy some manners next time."
The floor creaked quickly as he crossed the room with long strides. "What was that?"
Posey turned, biting back her surprise to find him almost on top of her. "I wish you would have told me on Friday that sex was okay with you but caring about you was out of the question. It would have made my life a lot easier."
Harry folded his arms and cocked his head back, narrowing his eyes at her. "I think you're having trouble with the distinction between caring and feeling sorry."
Posey had to physically force herself not to slap him again. "You self-important son of a bitch."
"Watch it."
Posey dismissed his warning. "What makes you think I'd feel sorry for you? Is that what you're used to? Is that why you think I did this? You just think I traded you sex for pity?" She flung her frame around, making her mark for the door. "You offend me."
He slung a biting smirk across his mouth. "That didn't take long, did it?"
Posey ripped a hand back through her hair, then leveled a finger at him. "I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation for what you're trying to do, but if I listen to any more of it right now, I'm gonna say something I can't take back and I don't want to do that just yet."
"If this is going to go down in flames, you're gonna make damn sure it's my fault, right?"
Posey shook her head and stormed past him, cracking her shoulder into his arm on her way out the door. As she pulled it open and let herself out, she tossed a snarl back over her shoulder at him.
"At least I don't have to waste my time feeling sorry about it."
Danny tried not to look like he was looking at her. He'd been doing it all week.
It was irritating.
Finally, Posey flipped her laptop shut with a loud click and looked directly into Danny's quickly turned ear.
"I don't do this office bullshit. If you want to talk to me, talk. If you don't, please don't distract me."
Danny looked at her in near shock. "Um... I didn't... I guess... I'm sorry." He cleared his throat and reached into his paperclip dish. "So how's your second week shaped up?"
"It's been a ride."
Danny chuckled, "Yeah. It was like that for me, too. You holdin' up?"
"I'm getting there."
Danny flopped around a little, gathering and releasing speaking breaths, then he leaned close across Posey's desk. "Look, I have a question and I don't want that you should feel obligated to answer or anything, okay?"
"Okay."
"Because it is so not my purpose to make you uncomfortable about anything with me or with this place, okay?"
"Okay."
"If you think this question is forward or anything like that, you just tell me... say 'Danny, shut up about that'. Okay?"
"If you don't ask your question, you're not going to get the chance."
Danny grabbed a big breath, letting out just enough to ask his question and holding onto the rest. "I hear around that you been seeing Harry Denby."
Posey pressed her lips together for a moment, then flipped her laptop open again, turning her attention to the screen with a flat response. "You heard wrong. I've never met Harry Denby."
Danny seemed to accept that, but only for a second. With a canted brow, he came back. "I know I haven't been a detective for as long as my friend Andy over there and my skills may be off, but wasn't that Detective Denby that you had an argument with over the dead guy files last Friday?"
Posey didn't look up. "Is that his name?" Danny's hands planted on either side of her keyboard.
"Did he hurt you?"
Posey looked into his face, shocked. "What?"
Danny repeated himself. "Did he hurt you? Hit you? Do anything to put you in danger or pain?"
"No," Posey glared at him with incredulous eyes. "He's just another jerk, that's all. What kind of guy do you think he is?"
Danny gave a bitter little smile. "I've never really met Harry Denby either." He glanced around in a telling sort of way and Posey could have said the words right along with him. "You know, it's Friday, and I was thinking maybe after we bust out of here you might want to get some dinner across the street."
"I might," Posey pretended to consider the idea, teasing him a little. "But if I'm going to eat by myself, I'd just as well go home." She smiled at him and watched the rims of his ears turn pink.
He cleared his throat, keeping up with her mood. "Well, you see, that's where I hope to come into the whole dinner eating plan."
"Are you asking me out?"
"No, I'm asking for the opportunity to eat my dinner off the same table as you."
He was cute, definitely smart, and his approach was nothing like Harry's had been. Harry had called her a kiss-ass, a rat, and teased her like a fifth-grade bully. Danny was so sweet and polite and decent...
Why on earth didn't she want to go out with him?
Finally, she realized that Danny was waiting for an answer from her. She gave a little sigh. One dinner won't kill me. It'll take my mind off...
"Yeah, let's have dinner together. Let me know when you're ready to go, okay?" Posey grinned brightly, hoping her utter lack of interest wouldn't show through it.
Danny smiled like he'd just gotten a date for the prom and rapped his knuckles on her desk. "Cool beans."
"If that's what you wanna call 'em," Posey replied, laughing.
"It is that, indeed." Danny smiled at her for another second, then turned back to his own desk, puffed up and pleased with himself.
Behind her neutral expression, Posey thought to herself, Oh, holy hell...
"Wow, that looks great. Thank you." Danny tossed a grin at the waiter, then planted his elbows firmly on the table as he started in on his steak.
How did I get from eating cheeseburgers with someone who was so averse to eating with his fingers that he quartered his burger and used a fork to eating filet mignon with someone who was apparently raised by wolves?
Danny had barely swallowed his first bite when he started talking again. "So I never got to hear about how you came to pick up your shield in Detroit."
Posey pushed her vegetables around and sighed a little. "Well, I went to college instead of right into the Academy, so I was a candidate right from the start."
"Did you go through the whole Academy program?" Danny asked through a mouthful of bread.
Posey shook her head and replied, "No. I only had to do the EMT training and then I was moved up from cadet. Turns out it was the EMT training that did the most for me." She watched him nod and eat as she talked. God, it's like talking to my little brother.
"So what was it that got you the shield?"
"I saved a child's life."
Danny's mouth stopped working and he stared at her, then swallowed hard. "No kidding."
Posey nodded, wondering why that would be such a foreign concept to him. Wasn't he a cop too? Didn't he know what they were doing here? "She'd been shot in a gang-related incident, just as an innocent bystander. My partner... at the time it was Matt Petrinka... we were the first ones on the scene and the little girl... she couldn't have been more than ten... she'd been shot in the stomach with a .22 shell and she wasn't breathing. Her parents said she'd been that way for at least ten minutes. Matt said she was dead, but... there was just no way. It was like I could see her heart still trying to beat inside her. I don't know what told me to start resuscitation, but I had to."
"And the little girl lived?" She'd been so wrapped up in the story she'd failed to notice that Danny was leaning over his plate, staring into her eyes, enraptured.
"Yes. She's fine. And because she lived to identify the gang members, we were able to bring down a whole ring of Latin Counts."
"You saved her life and collared a gang? You're incredible..."
Posey smiled gently. "No, I'm a cop."
Danny returned her smile with outright worship. "Yes, you are. An incredible cop."
You're so nice, and so sweet, and so everything I ever thought I was looking for in a guy. So why am I still thinking about Harry? Posey sighed and started in on her meal with absolutely no appetite.
"So this is your place?"
"Yes it is. Thank you again for walking up here with me. You really didn't have to do this, you know. I would have driven you home."
Danny shoved his hands in his pockets and studied his feet for a moment. "No, that's... that's just not right. I can get a cab."
"You're sure?"
"Yeah. I do it every night anyway."
Posey exchanged nervous smiles with Danny, but didn't take her keys out of her pocket, hoping he would take the hint that she had no intention of inviting him in.
It's too soon, anyway... even if I wanted to. Even if I wasn't still...
"Well," Danny cleared his throat, glancing up at her. "Thank you for having dinner with me... um... have a good weekend, I guess."
"Yeah, you do the same. Thank you for inviting me to dinner."
"Anytime."
"Sure."
Danny cleared his throat again. "Okay, then. Good night." He looked at her with unvarnished hope, but she made no move other than to grin.
"Good night, Danny."
His eyes floated around for a second, then he nodded, digging his hands deeper into his pockets and taking a step back. "Okay, then..." He looked around the hallway, then gave Posey a polite smile. "Good night."
Posey smiled back and watched him walk back to the stairwell, watching until he'd disappeared around the landing. Then she pressed her forehead to the door and rocked it back and forth, wondering exactly what she'd gotten herself into now.
"He's been looking at you like that all night." The cool, familiar voice came from around the opposite corner of the hall and Posey whipped around, sliding her hand into her coat and finding her sidearm, just in case.
"Harry?"
Studying the corner, she could just barely make out the edges of his profile. A fringe of black, the drop of his trenchcoat, the crook of his knee. His voice, however, did not meet her again, forcing her to prompt him.
"Harry, come out here."
He rounded the corner slowly, standing well and clear of her. He didn't look any different than she would have expected, but little tiny things were out of place. After a moment of watching him in silence, she started picking out little things. His shoes were walking shoes, cuffed by what looked like midnight blue polyester. His hair ran dull and wild with finger-combed waves instead of it's usual polished shine. His expression was a careful prescription of guarded anger, but his eyes were bright and waiting. Posey prompted him again.
"Come over here."
He took the few slow steps forward, closing the distance between them in silence.
Where the hell have you been?
Continued in Part 10.
