| Partners |
| Tuesday, June 15, 2004. 6:05AM, Central Park. Crime Scene. Still a little bleary-eyed with sleep, Ed Green strode across the manicured lawns of the park to the knot of people gathered around something on the ground. Undoubtedly the victim. Fontana was already there, looking oh-so-perfect and wide awake. Ed grumbled; not only was his partner a better dresser than he was, the man was that worst of evils: a Morning Person. Ed�s element was the night; he could stay awake all night, whether at a poker game or a stakeout. This morning shit was for the birds. Fontana spotted his partner and waved him over. �Victim is a white male, mid-40�s. Wallet was intact, so it wasn�t a robbery. Name�s Michael Logan.� Ed frowned. That name sounded familiar. Wait a minute, almost �. �Hey! Lennie used to have a partner named Mike Logan. This guy would be about the right age. Anything to indicate he�s a cop?� Fontana shook his head. �Nothing so far. If he had gun and badge with him, the killer had the sense to take them.� Somehow, Ed didn�t find that very reassuring. Shot with his own gun? He really hoped this was some other Mike Logan; he wouldn�t want to have to tell his old partner if it was Lennie�s friend. �So how�d it go down?� The ME on the scene joined them. �Looks like he took one shot � to the genitals. Somebody castrated him, then left him to bleed out.� Fontana frowned. �Anybody call Special Victims yet?� One of the officers around answered. �They�re tied up with that big rape case � you know, the Councilman�s daughter?� Fontana nodded knowingly. �Ah. A SPECIAL victim.� His voice dripped with sarcasm. Ed snagged one of the CSU techs scurrying around. �Find anything interesting?� The tech shook his head. �Just a hell of a lot of blood. No shell casing. No signs of struggle.� Ed watched sadly as the body was bagged and taken away for an autopsy. �Well, if he is Lennie�s old partner, we�ll know when they fingerprint him.� ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Elizabeth Rogers hurriedly drank her first cup of coffee of the day. A body was coming in. She hated days that started like this. Unfortunately, that was most of them. Too many people killed overnight and found first thing in the morning. Usually by some poor unsuspecting jogger or deliveryman or something like that. The ME watched silently as a gurney was wheeled in with today�s first customer. With a sigh, she put aside the coffee and donned her mask and gloves. A tech unzipped the body bag, pulling it away to reveal a face Rogers knew all too well. �Aw, SHIT! Logan! NO!� The tech turned to her. �You know this guy?� Fighting tears, Rogers nodded. �He is � was � a cop. Used to work homicide out of the 2-7 until he decked a councilman and got himself banished to Staten Island. Nice kid, smart. Funny. Was he shot on duty?� The tech looked at the report attached to the body bag. �Nope. Oh � Doc, you may want to pass this off on somebody else. It�s ugly � shot in the nuts, left to bleed out.� �God, Logan, you just couldn�t leave the girls alone! What�d you do, screw somebody�s wife?� �Doc, let me take him somewhere else.� She stopped him. �No, leave him here. It�s the least I can do for him now.� ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Back at the 2-7, the detectives went straight to the Lieutenant�s office. Van Buren looked up from her morning coffee. �What have you guys got?� Joe jumped in. �Male vic, white, mid-40�s name of Michael Logan. Looks like a sex crime; he was castrated and left to bleed out.� Anita�s face visibly paled at the name. Ed had to ask. �Lietuenant, didn�t Lennie have an old partner by that name?� She nodded. �I take it there was no badge or gun on him?� Ed shook his head. �Any other ID?� �They left his wallet.� Anita�s face got hard as she blocked the emotions welling up inside her. �Let me see his driver�s license.� Fontana ran back to his desk to retrieve the evidence. Ed watched the Lieu closely; he�d never seen her this upset before. He was starting to have a really bad feeling about this � Joe returned and handed the small plastic card to Van Buren. �Oh, no �� she sighed softly. Ed could see her losing the battle for control. �Lieutenant, shouldn�t this be an SVU case?� Fontana was giving her an out to get some distance from the case. Angrily, she glared at him. �He�s one of OURS, Fontana. We take care of our own. But you�re right, from what you said it�s probably a sex crime. And Don Cragen used to be his boss too; I think they were pretty close. Let me call him and see if we can share this one. OK?� The two detectives nodded and left the office, shutting the door behind them. In the limited privacy of her fish bowl, she fell over her desk, fighting back the tears. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ As they walked back to their desks, Fontana started up. �You heard the Lieutenant. He�s one of ours. So let�s get a jump on those clowns from SVU. Let�s go talk to your old partner.� Ed stared up at him. He wanted to talk to Lennie. But not with Fontana around. This was gonna be hard enough without having to play referee. Somehow he just KNEW that these two were not going to get along. But Fontana was right; he did want to get started on the case. �OK. When he retired, he started working for the DA�s office investigative squad. Let me call over there and see if he�s in today.� Ed reached for the phone. A guy named Salazar answered. �No, sorry, Detective. Lennie quit after about a month. Said he was sick and tired of all the death. Figured he didn�t have that much life left and wanted to enjoy some of it for a change.� �Yeah, ok, thanks, man.� Ed frowned as he hung up the phone. Lennie had once said he�d be a cop from a wheelchair if he had to. He wondered what could have soured him now? �Well?� Fontana asked, startling him out of his reverie. �He quit.� �Oh. You know where he lives?� Ed nodded. He could call first, but somehow that didn�t feel right. He had to do this in person. �Yeah. Come on, let�s go.� They parked on the street, and Ed led Joe up the rickety stairs to the slightly run-down second floor walk-up apartment and knocked on the door. He almost didn�t recognize the face that answered the door. More lines on that wizened face than he remembered. And apparently Lennie�d finally stopped dying his hair; it was mostly gray now. But there was a lightness in his eyes that hadn�t been there before. It was as if the world-weary detective was gone, replaced by a man who was determined to enjoy every minute left to him. �Ed! What the hell are you doin� here!� The face lit up with pleasure as he recognized his visitor. He stepped aside, ushering them in. Ed couldn�t help grinning in return. �Hey, can�t a man stop by to see his old partner? Speaking of which, this is Joe Fontana, my new one.� Lennie eyed Fontana warily; for some reason, he wasn�t getting a good vibe from this one. Expensive suit, WAY too expensive for a homicide cop. Snow white hair, fashionably styled. He looked like something out of an AARP version of GQ. And it didn�t help that he already had reason to dislike the guy � Ed could feel the friction between them as they formally shook hands. He needed to distract Lennie from his new partner. �So, Lennie, how come you quit the DA�s gig?� Lennie tore his eyes away from the newcomer and focused on Ed. �Just got tired of it, Ed. I finally realized that working homicide kept me surrounded by death all the time. I realized I want to live now.� Ed had a feeling there was more to it than that, but that he was never gonna hear it in front of Fontana. So he let it drop for the time being. He cringed inwardly as he realized he was here to share more death with this man who had chosen life. Lennie studied Ed�s face, saw the change in his expression. He felt a chill run down his spine. �Ed. This isn�t a social call, is it?� Ed shook his head and urged Lennie toward the couch. He bit his lip, not sure how to do this. There just wasn�t a good way. �Lennie, Joe and I caught a case this morning. The victim was Mike Logan.� He watched as a mask of pain stole over Lennie�s face, only to be replaced by stone as old habits reasserted themselves. No matter how gruesome, how ugly, cops couldn�t get emotional at crime scenes. After what seemed like an eternity, Lennie licked his lips and managed to speak. �How did it happen?� Ed relayed the gruesome details. Lennie exploded. �Damnit, Mikey! You just couldn�t keep it zipped, could ya?� �What do you mean by that?� Fontana�s question seemed to come out of left field; both Lennie and Ed glared at him. But Lennie was still enough of a cop to know the answer was important. �He � had a lot of girlfriends. New one every week, it seemed. I always worried that one of these days he�d pick up the wrong one and piss somebody off �� Ed asked the next question to get Lennie�s attention back. �When was the last time you talked to him?� It didn�t work. For some reason, Lennie�s eyes were glued to Fontana, and they were full of daggers. �About two months ago, right after I retired. He called to tell me the good news � he was finally getting back to homicide. He was going back to the 2-7 as my replacement. He thought that was hysterical. Van Buren asked specifically for him. And then two days later he called to tell me it was off. No explanation.� He glared at Fontana in silence for a few moments, before turning toward Ed, his face softening as anger dissolved back into pain. �He was really depressed. I tried to call him several times since then, but he never returned my calls. I�ve been worried.� // At least now I know why he hates me! // Fontana realized there was no way he and Briscoe would ever get along. Discretion being the better part of valor, he backed off and let his partner handle the rest of the interrogation. Ed could see the pain in Lennie�s eyes. He remembered how Lennie would always comfort the families of victims during �this� conversation. He really had a talent for it. Today was Ed�s turn. He laid his hand on Lennie�s shoulder. �I�m sorry, man, I really am. But I didn�t want you to hear it from anybody but me.� Lennie swallowed hard and nodded. �Thanks, Ed, I appreciate that.� �Can you tell me anything else? Name of the most recent girl? Bar he hung out at? Anything?� Lennie shook his head. �All he�d ever say was first names. Maybe his partner out at Staten knows more, but I doubt it. Frankie Silvera.� Ed looked up to see Fontana scribbling down the name. Before he could ask another question, Lennie had one of his own. �Ed? It sounds like a sex crime. Has anybody called SVU yet? Cragen was almost like a surrogate father to him �� Ed sighed. �Van Buren was going to call him herself. I hear they�re tied up with the rape of the Councilman�s daughter, so she�s going to suggest that Joe and I work the case with a couple of their guys. Keep it in the family, you know?� Lennie nodded. Anita Van Buren was good like that; she�d take care of Mike as one of her own. �Yeah. That�s good. If anybody can get to the bottom of this, you will.� Ed realized there was nothing more for the moment. So he gave Lennie�s shoulder one last squeeze and stood up. �Hang in there, man. I�ll keep you posted.� Lennie managed a small smile as he clasped Ed�s hand. �Thanks, Ed.� Somehow, the thanks were for more than just the promise of information. Ed smiled and nodded, then ducked out the door with Fontana hot on his heels. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ After the detectives left, Lennie retreated to his bedroom. Rummaging in the junk drawer, he found what he�d been looking for. An old copy of the PBA newsletter. He opened it, found the page. The photo had been taken at the annual PBA picnic. The three-legged race. He and Mike, arms wrapped around each other�s backs, their middle two legs lashed together, laughing, out of breath, happy. They both looked so young back then � god, it had to be 12 years ago! He�d had a dozen or so partners over the course of his 25 years on the NYPD, but nobody had meant as much to him as Mikey Logan. The kid had had a bad run, one partner dead, another shot and sidelined to an admin job just a year later. Lennie had just gotten sober and was trying to rebuild his life and his career. Somehow, they�d clicked, and become an unstoppable team. Until Logan�s famous Irish temper got in the way. He�d decked a Councilman. Admittedly, the bastard deserved it. But it had never made sense to Lennie. The remark that triggered it was anti-gay. Mike had always been uncomfortable with the idea of homosexuality. Maybe it was his Catholic upbringing. Or the Priest who had abused him. The thought that Mike had thrown his career away over a gay-hating politician just didn�t sit right. But in all these years, he�d never had the guts to talk to Mike about it. Or to tell him the truth. That Lennie was gay. And that he loved Mike. And now it was too late. Mike was dead. Probably over one of the nameless, faceless girls he kept cycling through his life. Meaningless, empty, casual sex. Mike never let anybody get past his guard. Except Lennie. And Donnie Cragen. They were the only two constant figures in Logan�s life. If only he�d come to one of them. If only that creep Fontana hadn�t shown up on the doorstep of the 2-7, somehow muscling his way into the job that by every possible definition of justice BELONGED to Mike Logan. Lennie wondered how he�d done it. From the looks of things, he might have just bought the job. But in the end it didn�t matter how he got it, just that he had. The disappointment had broken Mike�s heart, and probably his spirit. He�d worked so hard, for so long, to get back to homicide. But why struggle when some politically connected outsider can yank your goals out from beneath you? // Should have tried harder to get through to him! // Could�ve, should�ve, would�ve. It was too late now. Mike was gone. Silent tears fell on the photograph, all Lennie had left of Mike Logan � Continue on to Chapter 2 Send me some Feedback Back to the Story Index Disclaimer: These characters belong to Dick Wolf and NBC. I'm just borrowing them for fun, not profit. |
| Chapter 1 |
| A/N This story came about because one night I was sitting in my hotel room (yet another business trip) watching the new season of L&O last winter, and the thought occurred to me: What if the victim of the week was somebody we knew? One of the old regulars? With Lennie�s retirement, there�s just about nobody around anymore who knew the original cast and would therefore be banned from working the case. This is what came about � |
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