Original fic: SCU: Boston
Jul. 17th, 2005 04:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bedlamsbardHere we meet a few more of the Special Crimes detectives. Meet Siobhan O'Carolan, who's from Boston and a blueblood, and Noah Schock, who's not and isn't. His name's not even Noah Schock, but we can go into that later. No, I have no real idea about what the hell's going on.
"No," Noah says, and he shakes his head because he can't believe it, can't and won't, but they're both the same, he realizes with a sinking heart. Can't be true. Won't be true. He shakes his head once more and says for good measure, "No."
Siobhan doesn't lie. Her golden eyes are wide and a little scared and she shakes her head like she wants to believe him, but hte word that comes out of her mouth is, "Yes." For a moment she looks like she wants to cry, and Noah remembers just how young and green she is. She's only a year or so off patrol, and it can't have been so very long ago someone handed her a silver badge and a blue uniform and told her to go do her duty.
Duty. The word sticks in Noah's throat and he leans back against the pillow with his eyes closed and bile in his throat. Do your duty. I ran, he mouthes silently. I ran and I'm sorry for it because if I hadn't done it two of my friends might not be -
- dead -
They're not dead. They're not. Noah will swear it up and down if he has to. Chris Cutter and Jimmy Saint aren't dead, and maybe this has nothing at all to do with his family.
And maybe pigs can fly, too.
Not dead. Noah struggles upright, ignoring the pain that screams protest all through his body.
"Noah - don't -" Siobhan gasps, leaping forward out of the stiff hospital chair she's been sitting in.
Her hands are blessedly cool against his shoulders. "I need to help," Noah says, trying to push her away. She holds on grimly and mutters something that sounds determnedly like, "my partner," but Noah's pretty sure the painkillers are going to his head. "I need to help - look for Chris and Jimmy -"
"You've been shot," Siobhan spits out, like it's some kind of great revelation. She shoves him back down into the bed just as a nurse storms in. Noah swears they have a sixth sense for trouble.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Detective O'Carolan?" she demands, looking like she'd like to bodily haul Siobhan away from Noah.
Siobhan grits her teeth. "I am trying," she says with great emphasis on the final word, "to restrain my partner from overstraining his injuries and - goddammit, Noah, did you just bite me?"
"No," Noah says very sweetly at the alarmed look on the nurse's face.
Siobhan thumps him in the shoulder. "You've been shot, you bastard," she repeats. "We've got half the force out looking and you -"
"Get the other half," Noah interrupts, "and I'll feel better."
"I'll tell Beau that," Siobhan says. "He wants to get a statement from you when he comes in -"
"Sure. Anything."
She touches his face very lightly. "How are you doing, Noah?"
As it does from time to time, the contrast between her voice and his strikes Noah. Hers is not the smooth Southern drawl he grew up withl his is not hte rough slather of the Northeast that surrounds him day in and day out. Noah Schock is not of Boston anymore than Amycas Goldwater is. The realization hurts. He smiles stiffly at Siobhan. "The drugs help."
"Well, then take more of them, goddammit," she grins. She leans over and puts something on the bedside table with a click. Noah turns his head enough he can catch the glint of gold. It's his badge.
"Detective O'Carolan, two minutes," the nurse says from the door.
"Noah -" Siobhan says.
He staes up at the ceiling, at the thick mass of golden brown hair at the corner of his vision. "Go find Chris and Jimmy, Sib," he says, "or fuck up the bastards that killed them."
"They're not dead, Noah," Siobhan says, and she presses something cold and familiar into his hand.
"Detective O'Carolan," the nurse says warningly.
"I'm going," Siobhan tells her and rises fluidly. Gathers cop around hr like a cloak. "I'll come back," to Noah and, "Make sure you give him lots of drugs," to the nurse.
Noah looks at what Siobhan's given him. It's his gun. And two extra clips.
"No," Noah says, and he shakes his head because he can't believe it, can't and won't, but they're both the same, he realizes with a sinking heart. Can't be true. Won't be true. He shakes his head once more and says for good measure, "No."
Siobhan doesn't lie. Her golden eyes are wide and a little scared and she shakes her head like she wants to believe him, but hte word that comes out of her mouth is, "Yes." For a moment she looks like she wants to cry, and Noah remembers just how young and green she is. She's only a year or so off patrol, and it can't have been so very long ago someone handed her a silver badge and a blue uniform and told her to go do her duty.
Duty. The word sticks in Noah's throat and he leans back against the pillow with his eyes closed and bile in his throat. Do your duty. I ran, he mouthes silently. I ran and I'm sorry for it because if I hadn't done it two of my friends might not be -
- dead -
They're not dead. They're not. Noah will swear it up and down if he has to. Chris Cutter and Jimmy Saint aren't dead, and maybe this has nothing at all to do with his family.
And maybe pigs can fly, too.
Not dead. Noah struggles upright, ignoring the pain that screams protest all through his body.
"Noah - don't -" Siobhan gasps, leaping forward out of the stiff hospital chair she's been sitting in.
Her hands are blessedly cool against his shoulders. "I need to help," Noah says, trying to push her away. She holds on grimly and mutters something that sounds determnedly like, "my partner," but Noah's pretty sure the painkillers are going to his head. "I need to help - look for Chris and Jimmy -"
"You've been shot," Siobhan spits out, like it's some kind of great revelation. She shoves him back down into the bed just as a nurse storms in. Noah swears they have a sixth sense for trouble.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Detective O'Carolan?" she demands, looking like she'd like to bodily haul Siobhan away from Noah.
Siobhan grits her teeth. "I am trying," she says with great emphasis on the final word, "to restrain my partner from overstraining his injuries and - goddammit, Noah, did you just bite me?"
"No," Noah says very sweetly at the alarmed look on the nurse's face.
Siobhan thumps him in the shoulder. "You've been shot, you bastard," she repeats. "We've got half the force out looking and you -"
"Get the other half," Noah interrupts, "and I'll feel better."
"I'll tell Beau that," Siobhan says. "He wants to get a statement from you when he comes in -"
"Sure. Anything."
She touches his face very lightly. "How are you doing, Noah?"
As it does from time to time, the contrast between her voice and his strikes Noah. Hers is not the smooth Southern drawl he grew up withl his is not hte rough slather of the Northeast that surrounds him day in and day out. Noah Schock is not of Boston anymore than Amycas Goldwater is. The realization hurts. He smiles stiffly at Siobhan. "The drugs help."
"Well, then take more of them, goddammit," she grins. She leans over and puts something on the bedside table with a click. Noah turns his head enough he can catch the glint of gold. It's his badge.
"Detective O'Carolan, two minutes," the nurse says from the door.
"Noah -" Siobhan says.
He staes up at the ceiling, at the thick mass of golden brown hair at the corner of his vision. "Go find Chris and Jimmy, Sib," he says, "or fuck up the bastards that killed them."
"They're not dead, Noah," Siobhan says, and she presses something cold and familiar into his hand.
"Detective O'Carolan," the nurse says warningly.
"I'm going," Siobhan tells her and rises fluidly. Gathers cop around hr like a cloak. "I'll come back," to Noah and, "Make sure you give him lots of drugs," to the nurse.
Noah looks at what Siobhan's given him. It's his gun. And two extra clips.