ALL IN THE NAME OF LOVE
Capt. Simon Banks opened the door of his
office and glared into the bullpen. "Where's Sandburg?" he bellowed.
Jim Ellison looked up with a smirk.. "He's doing a food run down to Straker's
Deli. Low man on the totem pole."
"Thank God," Megan Conner snorted. "I thought I never was..."
"A call just came in about a man with a gun holding hostages at Straker's Deli,"
Simon interrupted.
"Damn," Henri Brown moaned as he reached for his jacket.
The detectives of Major Crimes had learned from experience. Sandburg had gone
to Straker's Deli. A man with a gun was holding people hostage at Straker's
Deli. Ergo, Sandburg was being held hostage. Not one of them questioned this
logic.
"We've got two SWAT teams tied up on that drug bust over on Jefferson Street.
We're rolling with other units on this one." Simon pointed at Megan. "Conner,
you handle things here."
"But..."
"Low man on the totem pole, Conner." Jim tugged his Jags cap onto his head and
led the rush towards the stairs. "What about a hostage negotiator, Captain?"
"Right now, we're on our own," Simon replied as they started down the stairs.
"Our best chance is Sandburg's smooth tongue."
"Damn." Brian Rafe echoed his partner's earlier comment. "I don't know who's
going to be more pissed about missing this. Conner for staying here or Joel for
being in on that drug bust."
Simon grunted. Joel's previous experience as Captain of the bomb squad had
gotten him temporarily reassigned to the task force currently operating on
Jefferson. The last time Narcotics had raided one of the drug gang's hideouts,
the cops had run into an trap that had exploded cocaine into the air. The
unsuspecting cops had been blindsided. Three had been killed and two remained
in serious condition in the hospital.
"Sandburg can keep his head," Jim assured them as they reached the garage.
"He'll have that guy eating out of his hand. He'll play it cool."
----------------------
Kenny Straker didn't know who to be more afraid of. The guy waving the shotgun
in the air or the guy who was sitting on the floor ranting about how his
friends' love of junk food was going to get him killed.
"Tell me to make sure there's extra cheese and plenty of mayo, will you, Brown?"
Blair Sandburg raved. "I'll show you plenty of mayo. I'll drown your freakin'
sandwich in mayo! Yeah...mayo and dump some hot sauce between the slices of
roast beef. We'll see how quick you send...."
"SHUT UP!"
Blair glared at the man with the shotgun. "Oh, I'm just getting started!
You're low man on the totem pole, Sandburg. So you get the coffee. Get the
snacks. Can you pick up my dry cleaning while you're getting lunch and would it
be a problem to run by the ATM for me? I'll show them low man on the totem
pole! Three weeks of this crap! Well, they're gonna find out what payback
really means!" He paused for a deep breath. "So what's your problem?"
"My problem? My problem is my damn wife!"
Blair sympathetically grunted. "Glad I don't have one of those. I get
all the nagging I need from my roommate. Pick this up, Sandburg. Turn down the
noise, Sandburg. Were you raised in a barn, Sandburg? How hard it is to clean
up the bathroom, Sandburg? I swear, I don't think he has enough things to do to
fill up his spare time!" He sighed. "So who's your wife, man?"
"Debra Collins. I'm Eric Collins."
"Blair Sandburg. Wish we could be meeting under better circumstances, you
know?" Blair half-smiled as he casually looked around. He, the owner of the
deli, and three women were all sitting behind the sandwich station with their
backs against the counter. The other lunchtime patrons had managed to escape
when Collins has entered the small deli shouting and waving his shotgun in the
air.
"You know, my roommate really gets into those action movies, you know?
Personally, I think they're a silly waste of time. But in every one of them,
the cops show up with a lot of guns." Blair studied the man with the gun.
"Those people who made it out of here must have called 'em by now."
"Good." Collins nodded. "They'll bring her and my kid. Or else I'm gonna
start shooting." He glared at the older woman who began sniffling. "Shut up!"
"Hey, she's just scared," Blair soothingly interrupted. "We're not used to
seeing a shotgun, let alone having it shoved in our faces."
Collins, a young man in his mid-twenties, hesitated. His dark eyes flickered to
the street where several police cars could be seen. He nervously shifted from
one foot to the other. "Okay," he said. "The women can go. You tell the cops
I want to talk to whoever's in charge. Call me on the phone here! And I'm not
kidding around, either!"
The three women looked at each other then slowly got to their feet.
"Go on! Get out!"
Stumbling into chairs and tables, the three women ran towards the front door.
Throwing it open, they ran into the street, screaming for help.
Blair looked at the deli owner. "Are you okay, Mr. Straker? Your heart's not
bothering you, is it?" He widened his blue eyes, hoping the older man
understood.
Straker hesitated. 'It's pounding awfully bad."
Collins turned to stare down at the owner. "You don't look old enough to have
heart problems."
"Inherited it," Straker lied. "My dad and two of his brothers all died before
fifty of heart attacks."
Collins hesitated then nodded towards the door. "You go, too. I don't want you
to have a heart attack or something."
"Look, son. Whatever the problem is, you're not going to solve it this way,"
Straker gently urged as he got to his feet. "Put that gun down and walk out
with me."
Collins nodded again to the door. "You go now. You seem like a nice guy who's
done nothing but work hard all his life." He looked at Blair. "Sorry, but I
gotta keep one of you."
Blair nodded at Straker. "You go on. That EMT who eats in here a lot...Jim
something...he's probably outside with the cops. You have him check you out.
I"ll be okay. Don't worry...I'll just stay here and talk with Eric."
As Collins moved to make sure Straker didn't try to jump him, Blair cautiously
reached behind him and removed the gun in the holster at his waist. He
hesitated, then slid it under the counter behind him. With the other hostages
gone, he felt he could talk the young man into surrendering.
Straker glanced once more over his shoulder then walked out of the deli. He ran
across the street to where the police were waiting. He saw the three women from
the deli speaking with a tall dark-skinned man. "If he's in charge, I need to
talk with him," he told one uniformed officer.
Simon turned from the women to the man
who'd just run out of the deli. "I'm Capt. Simon Banks."
"I'm Kenny Straker. I own the deli." Straker looked back across the street.
"The guy that's still in there. His name is Blair Sandburg." He was surprised
at the murmured comments of 'knew it' and 'not surprised'.
"He's a cop," Simon advised.
"Then why didn't he shoot the guy?" Straker demanded.
"Because my partner figures he can talk him out," Jim growled.
"Yeah, well, your partner's going off about how he's being used as a gofer and
bitching about his roommate," Straker grumbled. He didn't see Jim glaring at
Rafe who was trying to smother his laughter. "At least he came up with the idea
of making that bastard think I had heart problems. Said I was supposed to find
an EMT named Jim."
"That's me," Jim grinned. "He didn't want to come right out and let that guy
know he was associated with cops."
"Good thinking," Simon nodded. "Is there anything else you can tell me, Mr.
Straker?"
"The guy with the shotgun is Eric Collins. His wife's name is Debra, and he's
really pissed at her."
Simon nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Straker. If you'll go with this officer and
these ladies, we'll try to get this resolved as quickly as possible."
"Well, so far Sandburg's handling it," Jim sighed.
Simon nodded. He pulled out his cell phone. "Let's see what Mr. Collins has to
say."
----------------------
"So why'd you pick this place?" Blair curiously asked.
Collins shrugged. "I was headin' towards my kid's school when I ran out of gas. I saw people coming in and out of this place and figured I'd be able to grab enough people to get the cops' attention."
Both men were startled when the phone on
the wall rang.
"Don't move," Collins warned as he edged towards the phone.
"No problem, man." Blair folded his hands in his lap and stared down at them.
"Yeah...who is this?" Collins demanded when he answered the phone.
"This is Capt. Simon Banks of the Cascade PD. Are you Eric Collins?"
Collins put his back to the wall and looked out the front windows. "Yeah.
Guess they told you that, huh?"
"Yes, they did," Simon gently replied. "I understand you still have a hostage.
I need to know that he's unharmed. May I speak with him?"
Collins held out the phone. "Tell 'em you're okay." When Blair started to
stand, he shook his head. "Just yell."
Blair nodded. "I'M OKAY!"
"Satisfied?" Collins demanded, putting the phone back to his ear.
"Yes, thank you." Simon saw Jim cocking his ear towards the phone. "How can we
resolve this, Mr. Collins?"
"I want my wife and kid. Debra Collins. Derek Collins. Now."
"That may take a while," Simon advised. "We'll have to track them down."
"My wife's at home. You can find where it is easy enough," Collins snarled.
"She never moves her lazy ass out the door unless it's to go to the mall and
spend every penny I have. My son's at Deerfield Elementary School."
"Mr. Collins, do you really want your son brought into this? The last place I'd
want to bring my son is where there are a lot of guns."
"JUST DO IT!" Collins slammed the receiver against the wall then hung up.
Simon disconnected the call and looked at Jim. "Did you get anything?"
"Blair said to do what we need but give him as much time as we can," Jim
reported. "He thinks he can talk Collins out. He still has his gun, though;
and Collins doesn't know he's a cop."
Simon nodded. "Find a position where you can take the best possible shot. In
case we need it."
As Jim turned away, he recalled Blair's final whispered comments...the ones he
hadn't shared with Simon. 'Take care of yourself, Jim. I love you.'
----------------------
"Do they think I'm stupid?!" Collins raged. "And what's with all that 'Mr.
Collins' shit? Talking down to me like that?!"
"You know, back when I was in college, I took some psychology courses," Blair
confided. "Not that I was all that interested, but there was a girl I
liked who was a Psych major." He briefly smiled. "Anyway, she talked me into
doing a project with her where we interviewed some cops."
"Yeah? What of it?"
Blair shrugged. "They'd just had some sort of regulation given to them about
calling people Mr. and Ms. You know, none of the first-name buddy-buddy stuff."
Collins grunted. "You went to college, huh? Must've had rich parents."
Blair snorted. "Had a father who was never there. The man could walk through
that door right now, and I'd never recognize him. And Mommy? Couldn't wait to
get me out the door so she could 'have a life' as she called it. Rich parents?
Nah, worked my way through."
"So what did you study?" Collins asked.
"Computers," Blair quickly answered. "Figured there was money in it." He
quickly grinned. "Haven't found it though."
"I got Debra knocked up in our senior year of high school." Collins leaned
against the wall. "She wouldn't get rid of it." He shook his head. "Don't get
me wrong. Derek's my kid, and I love him. But at the time, all I saw was my
whole life going down the crapper."
"Got married, huh?"
Collins nodded. "Both our folks made us. I got a job working nights at that
big market over on Shelton Road. Tried to go to school in the day, but..." He
shook his head. "Debra could've stayed with her folks until I got on my feet.
But NO!" He slammed his left fist back against the wall. "Kept nagging at me
to spend more time with her. Hell, I was working at night and going to school in
the day! I needed SOME time to sleep! And God help me if I took a couple of
hours to have a couple of beers with my buddies."
"Man, that's tough," Blair nodded.
"So I quit school and started working all I could. Worked my way up to the
assistant manager's job." Collins snorted. "You'd think she'd be proud.
But she kept harping on why wasn't I a manager? More money. More benefits."
He glared at Blair. "You know what I'm just an assistant manager?!"
"Umm...no college degree?" Blair hesitantly guessed.
"You got it." Collins nodded. "So I tell her I gotta go back to school for
that. Get a degree in marketing or something. Think she'd be supportive?
Think she'd offer to get a job to help out?"
"No such luck, huh?"
"Hell, she ranted and raved for hours about how I'd screwed up her life!"
Collins raged. "How she worked so hard every day to make a nice home for us.
How she spent her time making Derek's life better than ours had been." He
grunted. "And, by the way, when were we going to get a house and stop living in
a cramped little apartment? God, she's a chip of her mother's block. Debra's
just like that shrewing bitch."
Blair gently bit his lower lip. "That's rough, man. Really rough." He took a
deep breath. "Not that I'm trying to pry, but...if the cops do bring
your wife and kid here, what are you planning on doing then?"
----------------------
Henri knocked on the door of apartment 2C
and waited. Inside, he could hear a television blaring. He smiled to himself,
recognizing the theme to the daytime soap opera that his girlfriend religiously
followed.
The door opened a crack. A suspicious woman looked at him. "Yeah?"
Henri held up his identification. "I'm Detective Henri Brown, and this is my
partner, Detective Brian Rafe. Are you Debra Collins?"
Debra shoved her bleached blonde hair back from her forehead and opened the
door. "Yeah. Why?"
"It's about your husband, Eric Collins," Rafe began.
Debra rolled her eyes. "What's that loser done now?"
----------------------
Jim settled in at the second story window of the building across the street from
the deli. "I'm in position, Captain," he quietly reported on Simon's private
command channel.
"What can you see?"
Ignoring the scope on the rifle he held, Jim's eyes narrowed. "I've got a clear
shot at Collins. No sign of Sandburg. He must be sitting on the floor behind
the counter. Collins has the shotgun pointed in what I figure is his
direction."
"Can you hear anything?" Simon quietly asked.
Jim hesitated then cautiously opened his hearing.
----------------------
"I'm taking Derek and we're leaving. Debra can fend for herself," Collins
explained.
"Umm...couldn't you have done that without going to all this trouble?" Blair
suggested. When Collins didn't answer, he continued. "Nobody's been hurt. We
could just walk outta here and things'll get worked out, man."
"Can't do that." Collins grimly shook his head. "Too late."
"Why is it too late?" Blair frowned.
"I went over to Debra's mother's place this morning," Collins explained. "I
thought maybe she could talk to Debra...make her see that if she could just help
out a little with a part-time job while I cut back on some hours and go to
school...it'd be better for us in the long run."
"What happened?" Blair demanded.
"She started yelling about how I just wanted to waste my time playin' around!"
Collins yelled. "Like I haven't been working like a dog since I was eighteen!
Maybe I didn't give her daughter designer clothes and maybe the furniture's
second-hand, but we didn't starve or nothin'! All she's done is sit around the
apartment and watch TV!" He slammed his fist against the wall again. "Yellin'
at me that I've wasted her precious little girl's life! Like my life's
been all that great!"
"What did you do, man?" Blair repeated.
Collins stared down at Blair. "I killed the bitch."
----------------------
"Captain, you need to find out where Mrs. Collins' mother lives. Collins just
told Blair that he killed her," Jim reported.
"Damn." Simon rubbed his forehead. "Stay on it, Jim."
Jim positioned the rifle and looked through the scope. Shaking his head, he
removed it, preferring to depend on his superior eyesight. 'Come on, babe.
Get him calmed down. Let's all walk away from this without any more bloodshed.'
----------------------
"I just couldn't take it any more," Collins admitted. "So I shot her right
between her beady little eyes."
"Why'd you take the gun with you?" Blair asked.
"To make her listen to me!" Collins yelled. "All they ever did was yell at me!
Nag me! They never listened!" He cradled the shotgun against his chest. "I
was a good husband! I never hit Debra no matter how much she pissed me off!
And Derek may not have all the toys he wants, but he's a hell of a lot better
off than a lot of kids!"
"You did what you were supposed to do!" Blair agreed. "You stood up like a man
and accepted your responsibility. You didn't just run off and leave Debra to
fend for herself! And it doesn't sound like people who could've helped did a
whole lot for you!"
'No, they didn't!" Collins agreed. He wiped his nose then pointed the shotgun
at the door. "The cops are stalling."
Blair gambled and peeked over the counter. "They're probably having to get some
sort of approval to bring your kid here. You know, all the guns and stuff."
"They better get 'em here!" Collins yelled. "I don't want to hurt you, but I'm
not kidding!"
----------------------
'Easy, Blair. Don't let him get too rattled. Get him calmed down like you
do with me. Use that velvet voice of yours.'
Jim relaxed when Blair disappeared back behind the counter. "Captain, I just
got a quick visual on Sandburg. He's behind the counter." He hesitated, then
continued. "Collins is getting anxious about his wife and kid."
"Acknowledged." Simon reached for the cell phone then stopped when he heard a
strident voice.
"To hell with him! Let him get his head blown off! At least he'll be worth the
insurance money!"
Simon managed to keep from rolling his eyes. Instead, he used his fakest polite
smile. "Mrs. Collins, I presume?" He frowned, however, when he saw the small
child at her side.
"Yeah, these guys said I needed to get down here because that moron's gotten
himself in some kind of trouble!" Debra Collins wrapped an arm around the boy's
shoulder. "He's nothing but trouble! Always yellin'! He got poor Derek so
upset with his carryin' on last night that the kid couldn't even go to school
today."
Simon studied the eight-year old who dropped his eyes. 'Poor kid. He sure
got the short end of the stick where parents are concerned.' He looked back
at Debra whose sour expression turned his stomach.
"Your husband took several hostages in the deli over there," Simon explained.
"He's let them all go but one. His only demand has been to have you and your
son brought here. You can speak with him on this cell phone." He hesitated.
"He's also expressed some animosity against your mother. If you can give us her
address, I can send a unit there as a precaution."
"You mean in case he gets away?" Debra laughed. "Don't worry. He can't do
anything right!"
"Still, as a precaution," Simon urged.
"2734 Freemont Street." Debra shaded her eyes in the afternoon sun and stared
across the street. When Simon finished ordering a patrol car to the address,
she looked back at him. "Why don't you just shoot him?"
Simon caught Henri's furious look and casually stepped between his detective and
Debra. "That would be against policy, Mrs. Collins. Now, what we need you to
do is talk...calmly...to your husband and try to get him to surrender. Can you
do that?"
"Yeah, sure." Debra nudged her son. "You remember this, Derek. This is what
happens to losers like your father. You're going to make something of
your life."
'We'll be lucky if he doesn't wind up on a shooting spree before he has a
driver's license.' Simon made a mental note to talk to a friend in
Children's Protective Services about the young boy. Reaching for the cell
phone, he quietly spoke into the microphone at his shoulder. "She's here, Jim.
If you need to take the shot, do it."
----------------------
Jim removed the microphone and earpiece. He needed to keep his attention on
Blair's cues and didn't need any sudden interference breaking his concentration.
Settling the butt of the rifle against his shoulder, he took a deep breath.
"I'm here, babe. You know I'm close. I swear I won't let anything happen to
you.'
----------------------
Although Collins jumped when the phone rang, Blair's eyes closed in calm
acceptance. He knew Jim was close...could feel the comforting presence of his
lover and Sentinel...he wasn't alone.
"What's the hold up?!" Collins screamed into the phone.
"We have your wife and son right here, Mr. Collins," Simon assured him. "I'm
going to put her on the phone."
"Yeah, you do that!" Collins glanced down at Blair then stared out the window.
"Eric? What are you doing? Are you nuts?!" Debra demanded.
Rafe winced. "I'd be tempted to reach for a gun myself if I had to listen to
that voice everyday of my life," he muttered to his partner.
Henri nodded in agreement.
"Calmly talk to him!" Simon hissed.
"If I am, it's because you made me nuts!" Eric shouted into the phone. "Stupid
bitch!"
Blair lowered his head and softly spoke. 'Wait for my signal, Jim. Wait for
my signal.'
----------------------
"Sandburg, I swear..." Jim shook his head. Finger on the trigger, he paused.
----------------------
"I want Derek! I'm taking him and leaving! But first you're gonna listen to
me! You just shut up and listen!" Collins furiously ordered. "I did the best I
could for you, but it was never enough!"
"I should've just listened to my mother! She told me you were a mistake the
first time she laid eyes on you!"
Simon reached for the phone only to have Debra move away. Activating the
microphone, he reached for her again. "Jim! She's not helping! Take the shot
if you can! Jim! Can you hear me?"
"Yeah, she told me that this morning," Collins snapped. "Just before I shot her
dead."
"You BASTARD!" Debra screamed. "You killed my mother?!" Dropping the phone,
she fell to her knees and covered her head.
Suddenly, Derek reached out and grabbed the cell phone. "I hate you! I hate
you! Why don't you just die?! I wish you were dead!"
Henri grabbed the cell phone as Simon pulled Debra to her feet.
The distraught woman grabbed her son, shrieking in her rage.
Simon pushed the woman and child to a nearby uniformed officer. "Get them out
of here! Get her sedated and call Children's Services!" Spinning back around,
he looked towards the Deli. Keying the microphone, he yelled, "Jim! Do you hear
me?!"
----------------------
Stunned, Collins let the phone fall from his hands. The receiver hit the wall
once, then dangled at the bottom of its cord. "He said he hated me. My own
son...he hates me. He said he wished I was dead."
"Hey, c'mon, man. He's just a little kid. He's upset." Blair slowly rose to
one knee.
Collins looked down at the shotgun then out at the street. "Get out." When
Blair didn't move, he motioned with the gun. "Go on. There's no need for you
to stick around to see this."
"Don't do that," Blair pleaded. "You love that kid. Everything you've done
since you were eighteen has been for him, hasn't it?" When Collins didn't
answer, Blair slowly stood. "Hasn't it, Eric?"
"Yeah," Collins finally answered. "Doesn't matter though."
"Sure it does," Blair gently argued. "He's upset. He's scared. And he's
tired. Just like you." When Collins looked at him, Blair stepped closer.
"Just like you, Eric. He's tired of the fighting and the yelling. He just
wants it to end." He slowly reached out and closed his fingers round the barrel
of the shotgun. "Don't let his last memory of you be like this. Don't let him
remember that his last words to you were ones of anger...ones he really doesn't
mean."
"She's turned him against me," Collins sobbed. "He won't want me around him. I
love him, man! He's all I've got!"
"Give me the gun," Blair softly urged. "Walk out with me. You'll get a lawyer
and he'll tell your side of it. Your little boy will know both sides of what
happened." He held his breath as Collins' grip on the shotgun wavered.
"C'mon, man. For your little boy, okay?"
Slowly, Collins released his grip on the shotgun.
Blair sighed in relief as he put the shotgun on the counter. He reached for the
phone receiver and raised it to his mouth. "Anybody there?"
"Hairboy! You okay?!" Henri yelled, motioning to Simon.
"Yeah. It's over. He's surrendering, okay? He's not armed any more," Blair
stressed.
"Got it. We'll get him at the door," Henri promised. He handed the phone to
Simon and motioned for his partner.
Blair hung up the phone. "There's gonna be two officers at the door." He
reached out his hand. "C'mon, let's get outta here."
----------------------
Sighing with relief, Jim set the rifle to one side. He reached out for the
communication device he'd set aside, wincing as he heard Simon bellowing. "I'm
here, sir. I was...intensely observing the deli."
"I bet," Simon grumbled. "Get down here."
"Yes, sir," Jim sighed. He glanced out the window in time to see Rafe and Henri
taking Collins into custody. Simon was walking across the street to where Blair
stood leaning against the front window of the deli.
'I don't know whose going to comfort who, but there's definitely a warm bath
and a lot of cuddle time on the couch planned for tonight.'
----------------------
Jim watched as Eric Collins was cuffed and put into the back of a squad car. Debra Collins was alternately screaming threats against her husband and crying for her mother. The Sentinel shook his head. He sympathized with her but was glad he wouldn't be taking her statement.
Concerned that he didn't see Blair, he waved at Simon then walked across the street towards the deli. Cautiously opening the door, he was surprised to see Blair behind the deli workstation making a sandwich. Frowning, he closed the door behind him.
Blair looked up and smiled. "Hey, Jim."
"Chief." Jim walked towards the workstation. "What are you doing?"
"Oh, just making a sandwich," Blair explained. "A very special sandwich. For Brown."
Jim slowly nodded. "Oookaay." He watched for a few moments. "Do I want to know?"
Blair shook his head. "Plausible deniability, man." He slid the sandwich into a plastic bag.
"You okay?" Jim asked after a moment.
Blair wrapped the sandwich then reached into his pocket. Counting out some money, he left it by the cash register. "I will be, I guess. I feel sorry for the guy."
"Collins shot and killed his mother-in-law, Chief," Jim reminded his partner.
"I know," Blair nodded. "Still…" he shrugged. "I'll be fine, man. But I'd like to follow up on Collins' booking, okay?"
Jim shrugged. "Just don't forget that he held five people…including you hostage and killed a woman in cold blood."
"I won't," Blair promised. He stepped around the workstation. "You okay?"
Jim reached out and squeezed Blair's shoulder. "I am now."
"I felt you," Blair whispered. "I knew you were close."
Jim leaned down and whispered in Blair's ear. "I swear he wouldn't have gotten the chance to hurt you, lover."
"Love you, too," Blair whispered.
----------------------
The bullpen was slowly emptying out as people left for their homes. Rhonda waved in the direction of Simon's office as she walked towards the elevator. Rafe, who'd ridden to work with Megan, had left a half hour earlier.
Henri passed Joel in the bathroom,
congratulating the former bomb squad Captain on successfully disarming two of
the cocaine-laden bombs.
"They're gonna want you back, man," Henri teased.
Joel chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. "No, no, and no. I've had
enough." His eyes darkened. "More than enough."
Henri patted the older man on the arm and walked out. Glancing at Simon's
office, he saw the door closed. Through the glass windows, he saw Jim and Blair
obviously giving a final report. Blair had checked on Collins a few times as he
was being booked. Henri shook his head. 'Hairboy's
just gonna have to turn stuff loose. He can't always...HEY!...a deli sandwich?'
He looked over his shoulder at Simon's office, then chuckled. "Well, thanks,
Sandburg. You remembered my sandwich." Smacking his lips in anticipation,
Henri headed towards the break room for a drink.
Walking into the bullpen, Joel tried to decide if he could let his reports slide
until after he ate. Stomach growling and remembering that breakfast had been
many many hours earlier, Joel decided his written report could wait until after
dinner.
Spotting a wrapped deli sandwich on Henri's desk, Joel grinned. "Well, I don't
think Henri would mind sharing." Opening the wrapper, he took out half the
sandwich. "Ah...roast beef," he murmured as he raised it to his lips.
"JOEL! NO!"
October 2003
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