Dance With Me
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
She checked her watch and glanced around again. 11:30 on the path behind the skate rental place. That's what Matthew said, right? A set of footfalls came at her from behind and she turned in time to see his careful grin.
"How's tricks?"
"Perry rode me all morning."
"But I assume you did bring my lunch?"
"I did indeed, Mr. Bond."
Matthew cocked his head back and reached for her. "Kiss me, Moneypenny."
Posey drew her hands out of her pockets, both fists closed, and slid her arms into his trenchcoat as he kissed her, carefully depositing the mini tape into his right breast pocket, just as he'd asked.
He pulled away with a delicious little noise, licking his lips a little. "Thank you." He stepped back from her, taking her hand. "Walk with me before we get rousted for canoodling in the Park."
She took up his casual stroll. "Matthew, I was..."
He turned to glare pointedly at her. "Who?"
You're in the big leagues now, girl. She covered for it. "Harry. Isn't that what I said?"
"No," he played the disenchanted lover. "You called me Matthew."
Posey shrugged a little. "Old boyfriend. I've had him on my mind recently, I guess. Really irritating guy. Used to call my couch names."
He cupped his nose with his free hand and Posey could tell he was covering a smile. "I guess that's gratitude for you."
"Must be," Posey agreed musingly, tossing a grin at him. She started her original question again, fumbling over the now-unfamiliar name. "So... um..."
"Harry," he prompted patronizingly.
"Harry..." Suddenly, an odd thought struck her. She only hoped he'd pick up on it. "Aren't we the ones that end up dead at the end of this film?"
He glanced around a little. "I'll keep my eyes open for Hackman. You watch out for the mime."
"So I wasn't the only one conned into watching that entire movie by my mom."
He arched a brow at her. "What, 'The Conversation'? It's a detective classic. Practically required course material at the Academy." He thought for a second. "And no, the old man buys the farm, remember?"
"I kept falling asleep right about where Hackman freaks out trying to roll his wife."
"Ah, a true romantic."
"Better than drinking myself into a stupor."
"Hm."
"That sounded bad, didn't it."
"Mm-hm."
"Sorry."
He lifted his eyes to the bare tree branches and gray sky. "Why do I get the feeling that this isn't what you started off wanting to talk about?"
"Probably because it's become a gigantic mutant topic with no hope for speedy egress."
He pointed his gaze at her. "Let's commence with the exodus, shall we?"
Posey gathered a breath. "Why are we doing this?"
"This..?" he echoed.
"The... thing, with the... thing, and the..." she twisted around, trying to look absent as she smacked her hand on the right breast of his trench. "... thing."
He came to a stop, tugging on her hand, pulling her back around. "Okay, thing number one..." he flapped his trench open and placed her hand over his heart. Her eyes came wide as she felt the wire. He finished his thought. "... is because I love you, and I would be very upset if anything happened to you." He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against the inside of her wrist. "Thing number two..." he pressed her hand over his right breast pocket, "... is also because I love you, and you would be very upset if anything happened to me. And thing number three..." He sighed heavily, lifting her hand again and stroking his jaw over the back of her hand. "... is for my memorable face, apparently."
"I see." She trailed her hand over his mouth, turning her hand to trace his lips with her fingertips, watching his breath slide between her fingers as if he were a dragon she had quieted with her touch. He watched her eyes for a moment, then whispered against her skin.
"Come here, baby." He directed her to his left shoulder, putting his lips against her ear as he slipped his arms around her, muffling the wire between his body and hers. "I've got some stuff to get done and off my chest, here," he breathed silently. "Go back to the house. Tell Perry you bumped into me coming back from lunch and I'll be up by three, okay?" He lifted his head, rubbing her back and waiting for her reaction.
She nodded, mouthing to him. Please be careful.
Warm black leather touched her cheek for just a moment as he smiled.
"Go."
She tapped her pen on her report, given up entirely on doing anything but staring at the clock on her laptop. 4:17... Who do you call when an FBI agent goes missing? She glanced into Sherill's office, seeing that the red-haired lieutenant was doing approximately the same thing, she just hid it better.
It was the difference between worrying about him and worrying for him.
Both women jumped as the office door banged open.
The only thing Posey noticed was that he looked terrified.
He twisted it into something that resembled anger long enough to jab a finger at Posey as he brushed past her desk. "You... I wanna talk to you right now." He disappeared into the locker room.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sherill rise from her chair and she turned to lock eyes with her.
Lieutenant Perry nodded slowly, dropping herself back into her chair.
Somehow, I wish I were still doing what you think I'm doing. Posey followed Matthew into the locker room, swinging the door shut behind her.
He was pacing like a caged tiger, one hand planted on his hip, the other slung across the back of his neck. He'd yanked his tie loose, letting the knot ride just above the second button of his shirt, but even so, his face was dangerously white. As soon as he laid eyes on her, he rushed her, grabbing her hands and running them down the front of his body, inviting her to check for a wire. She shook her head, pulling her hands out of his and putting them on either side of his face.
"What happened?"
"I'm an idiot," he replied in a whimper that verged on panic, running his hands up behind hers. "I am so sorry, baby. I never should have told you. I'm so selfish... I wanted you. I just wanted you to be a part of my life and I didn't think..."
"Matthew," she pressed a little on his jaw, trying to calm him down, following his eyes with hers. "Matthew..." He fell into silence, breathing rapidly. "Slow down, okay? Take a few deep breaths and tell me what happened."
"My Ex. O. asked about you."
"Okay."
"Specifically... by name... because it's come up in the ring."
"The ring?"
He hissed at her impatiently. "The ring. The ring. On the wire. In the air. You're circulating as a target."
She pulled her hands away from him as if he'd burned her. "What?"
Matthew tightened his fingers around her wrists. "Seven years ago, I almost cashed in working a case called the Roux Morgue Murder Ring."
Posey nodded, not exactly sure why he'd brought it up. "I remember that case. I was a freshman in college and it was all over the place in the media. The lead agent was killed."
"Do I look dead to you?"
Posey's jaw dropped. "That was you?"
"Yes."
She couldn't bite it back. "You're fuckin' brilliant. I'd shake your hand but you're already holding them. I probably wouldn't be a cop if I hadn't read about how that went down."
"Tell me what you remember."
Why are we talking about this? "I remember everything. The agent went under as a journalist..."
"Jake Quinlan."
She nodded, setting her questions and his panic aside as she retold the story to her knowledge. "Yeah. He went under and told everyone he was researching internet commerce as a cover for the Roux Industries investigation. Turns out Roux was a multinational murder syndicate fronting as an international consumer research firm. They would contract hitmen to carry out profit-motivated murders in exchange for a cut. Thing was, they'd contact their men through internet remailers, so the contract couldn't be traced back to Roux. Quinlan broke in and crypt-keyed the remailer itself to send out a signature packet from the base computer directly to the FBI office in New York every time an email was sent from the Roux mailserver. They traced the packets back to the remailer and snapped the buffer until they got one of the contracts. In the lagtime between Quinlan keying the remailer and the operation coming down, Roux's tech-heads realized they'd been cracked, traced it back to the times when Quinlan was there, and executed him."
Posey finally stopped and took a breath, realizing that what she was about to say was completely absurd, but she had to say it anyway. It was how the story ended.
"Oh, my god... I watched them bury you."
Matthew had to smile. "So did I. From a hospital bed in Bethesda Naval."
"What really happened?"
Matthew sighed a little. "I was pegged in the thigh by the first FBI assault guy through the door before I had the pleasure of actually being executed. The rest was me being smart enough to get blood everywhere I could and play dead until I was rolled out. Because the operation was over at that point, they thought it would be best if Jake Quinlan were laid to rest."
"He was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor, Matthew."
He chuckled a little. "No, I did manage to get that away from him, thank you."
She eyed him. "Wasn't he blond?"
"Disgustingly blond. I think the first thing I demanded of the hospital staff once they stopped pumping me full of morphine was to have my head shaved."
Posey had to giggle. "I think I'd have liked to see that."
"I was told I resembled a baby duck, and we are way off topic now."
We were off topic in the first place. She realized he'd done it again. By putting her through the story, he'd brought her into his rhythm, forcing her to function in tandem with him. Knowing he wouldn't have brought it up if it didn't have a purpose, she finally came up with a question a little less broad than 'what happened'.
"What's the connection between me and Jake Quinlan?"
"Roux."
"Roux," she echoed, casting her eyes down as she tried to match up the name with something in her memory.
We can't be separated. By now Roux has a track on us and if we screw up, we'll both get killed.
The French drug ring. She twisted her hands until he released them, fanning her fingers over her mouth. "Oh, Christ... Which one was he?"
"The old man. It wasn't my French that gave me away, it was my face... and the fact that it's still walking around. Do you want to know what he said to you after our pretend argument about the runner flirting with you?"
"What?"
"He said, 'I think I know who I'm dealing with here, and if he is, he's a coward.'"
Posey's voice dropped to a whisper. "And you argued about that. About how he'd never seen you before when he knew he had. That's why he wouldn't work with you."
"Exactly."
Posey shook her head. "I still don't see where any of this leads him back to me."
"I led him back to you. The name 'Harry Denby' leads back to a desk telephone and a post office box, but anyone who reads the newspaper can connect the name 'Harry Denby' to the name 'Mariposa Jackson'. Harry Denby doesn't exist, but Mariposa Jackson does."
"And now Mariposa Jackson knows who Matthew Grayling is." She pressed trembling fingers to her forehead. "Harry..."
He gave a soft whimper, gathering her up against his chest. "Wow... you must be so mad at me."
She gave a little harrumph. "Gee, how can you tell?"
"You called me Harry."
She gave a bitter little chuckle, pressing her forehead against his shoulder. "I guess I did."
"Please believe me when I tell you that I would never do anything to purposely put you in harm's way," he murmured, resting his jaw against her hair and rocking her gently.
"No," she sighed, patting her hand over his heart a little. "I'm a cop, and it was part of the job. You didn't take me anywhere I didn't want to be. I'm connected to you because I'm your partner." She lifted her head and looked up into his eyes. "I go where you go."
He pressed a kiss into her forehead. "Yes, you will. I got you into this, and I'll get you out. Until this gets resolved, you're not leaving my sight." He offered her his word with quiet determination.
She cuddled into his embrace, knowing it was the most dangerous place in the world right now... and the only place where she was safe.
"I wouldn't have it any other way."
Continued in Part 7.
