New York Minute 3
May. 8th, 2005 06:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bedlamsbardQuotes about Tanglewood from this article: "We were like every mall kid you ever saw in the nineties, only we got the sons of six gangsters in the Tanglewood parking lot almost every night." Also: "We had guns. We had fathers to protect us. So we did what the fuck we wanted. It's great until you go to jail. Then the betrayal starts."
Certainly puts Danny's time in Tanglewood into perspective, huh?
“If she dies, I’m gonna have your fucking badge! I’m gonna have you demoted down to patrolman! I’m gonna make sure you spend the rest of your sorry career rescuing cats from trees and helping little old ladies across the street! You let a goddamned car come through the police barricade and run down a fucking cop, a detective, you son of a bitch and I –”
“Flack,” Danny said.
“– am gonna have your head on a platter. I’m gonna nail your fucking balls to the fucking wall –”
“Flack.”
“Detective first grade Stella Bonasera, and you’re gonna remember that name for the rest of your life. The rest of your goddamned life, you bastard, ya’ got that? The rest of your goddamned fucking –”
“FLACK!” Danny yelled.
The detective blinked, stopped mid-tirade and turned to glare at Danny. “What?” he barked.
Danny grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the sergeant, who was glaring bloody murder at them both before turning and storming angrily away. “Mac’s on his way to the hospital,” he said, as calmly as he could. “We gotta process the scene.”
“You’re the CSI, why don’t you just –”
“I need another pair of hands,” Danny lied blandly. He shoved the camera into Flack’s hands. “Here. See this? This is a camera. You’ve probably seen them before. Go in and photograph everything.”
“I don’t –”
Danny shoved him toward the door. “Don’t touch my kit, and call me if you see anything interesting.”
Flack shook his head in disbelief, staring down at the camera as if he wasn’t quite sure what it was. “Oh, fuck you, Messer,” he said, storming off toward the café.
Danny approached the sergeant – Boscovitch, he thought, glancing at the name on his uniform. “Sarge?” he said. “Mind if I have a word?”
“You wanna yell at me too?” the sergeant demanded, turning to face Danny.
Danny held up his hands placatingly. “No, no. I was just gonna apologize for Flack. He sorta goes overboard sometimes.”
“You think?” Boscovitch snorted. “I remember when Don was a kid; he was the same way. Use to bitch every time he didn’t get his way. It looks like he hasn’t changed since.”
Danny blinked. The guy was probably old to have known Flack, or Flack’s father, more likely, but – huh. “Looks like he didn’t recognize you,” he observed. Or didn’t care, probably, knowing Flack. “Look, I was wonderin’, when you got here, did you see anyone running out of the café?”
“Which one?” he asked. “When I got here, my boys had already cleared everyone onto the street. You’ll want to talk to PO Velasquez over there – he was first on the scene.”
“Thanks, Sarge,” Danny said, turning away.
“Hey, Detective,” the sergeant called.
“Yeah?”
“That female detective, Bonasera. She gonna be okay?” For a brief second, there was naked fear in his eyes, and Danny understood it. If Stella died, he could very well lose his job.
“I don’t know,” Danny said.
*
“So, I got the tapes from the security cameras,” Flack said, looking happy with himself.
“Yeah? What about my camera?”
“On your kit.” He jerked his head in the direction of one of the tables. “I didn’t touch anything, so you ain’t got nothing on me, Messer.”
Danny picked up his camera and pretended to examine it. He set it back down next to his kit after a moment. “Well, it looks like you didn’t hurt it.”
“…you CSIs are some kinda fucked up.”
“Hey, thanks.”
Flack shook his head in disbelief. “You heard from Mac yet?”
Danny set his mouth in a thin line. “No.”
“Someone shoulda gone with her in the ambulance,” Flack said. He stared fixedly out the window. “She shouldn’t’a had to go alone, ya’ know. It’s not –” He shook his head again. “When you’re hurt bad, you need someone there, even if you’re not awake. It’s good to know someone’s there for you, that someone’s got your back. That you’re not alone.”
“EMS wouldn’t let anyone in,” Danny said. “And Mac’s there, now. He won’t leave her alone.”
“Mac,” Flack said. “Ya’ really think that, Danny? He’s got – he’s gonna – fuck. Stella needs someone got their head on straight, someone that’s not gonna pat her hand and go off to catch the guy done it. She needs someone that’s not gonna leave her whenever he gets a call from the lab, someone saying, oh, ballistics is back. When your partner’s hurt, you don’t just – aw, Christ. Jesus Christ.” He closed his eyes tightly for a moment. “Fuck, but I wanna get my hands on the guy did this. Give me five minutes – just five minutes – in a room alone with the bastard, an’ he’ll regret for the rest of his life. You don’t fuck with my people, damn it.”
“Flack,” Danny said. The other detective looked over at him. “We’re gonna catch the guy.”
*
“Joey,” Val Constantine said.
“Yeah, boss?”
“You know my nephew, Danny?”
“Yeah. What about him? Ain’t he a cop or somethin’ now?”
“An NYPD detective with the Patrisos out for his head.”
“Well, that’s new. What’d he do? Arrest the wrong guy?”
“Killed Curly Sassone. One of his co-workers is the one who shot Phil DiCarlo.”
“No wonder Fat Freddy’s not too fond of him, then. Good for him. I always knew the kid would go places.”
“I want you to keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn’t find himself looking down the wrong end of a gun.”
Joey Sforza shrugged in a fluid slither of skin and muscle and tossed aside his magazine. “Sure, right on it, boss. Where’s the kid?”
“Running a crime scene a few blocks from CSI headquarters. If he’s not there, hang around HQ till he shows up. I don’t want him to go one minute outta doors without you, Ace, or Carmine on his back.”
“Seein’s as he’s a cop an’ all, that’s not gonna go over real well. He know about all this?”
“Not really.”
“So the plan’s not to get caught, killed, or arrested?”
“Pretty much.”
“I got license?”
“To kill.”
“Sweet.”
“One more thing, Joey.”
“There’s always a catch, ain’t there.”
“Not really a catch. Just another part of the job.”
“So bring it on.”
“Danny’s on a team, yeah?”
“If you say so.”
“Detectives Mac Taylor, Stella Bonasera, Aiden Burn, and Don Flack.”
“Okay.”
“Flack’s the one who shot DiCarlo.”
“Good on him. Always knew those bluebloods hadta have somethin’ goin’ for ‘em.”
“It’s possible the Patrisos will try and hurt them to get to Danny.”
“So I’ll take Ace, leave you with Carmine.”
“Two are easier to catch than one.”
“So I’ll take Carmine and leave you with Ace. ‘Sides, d’Alessandro’s got better eyes.”
“…Ace only has one eye, Joey.”
“My point exactly.”
Certainly puts Danny's time in Tanglewood into perspective, huh?
“If she dies, I’m gonna have your fucking badge! I’m gonna have you demoted down to patrolman! I’m gonna make sure you spend the rest of your sorry career rescuing cats from trees and helping little old ladies across the street! You let a goddamned car come through the police barricade and run down a fucking cop, a detective, you son of a bitch and I –”
“Flack,” Danny said.
“– am gonna have your head on a platter. I’m gonna nail your fucking balls to the fucking wall –”
“Flack.”
“Detective first grade Stella Bonasera, and you’re gonna remember that name for the rest of your life. The rest of your goddamned life, you bastard, ya’ got that? The rest of your goddamned fucking –”
“FLACK!” Danny yelled.
The detective blinked, stopped mid-tirade and turned to glare at Danny. “What?” he barked.
Danny grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the sergeant, who was glaring bloody murder at them both before turning and storming angrily away. “Mac’s on his way to the hospital,” he said, as calmly as he could. “We gotta process the scene.”
“You’re the CSI, why don’t you just –”
“I need another pair of hands,” Danny lied blandly. He shoved the camera into Flack’s hands. “Here. See this? This is a camera. You’ve probably seen them before. Go in and photograph everything.”
“I don’t –”
Danny shoved him toward the door. “Don’t touch my kit, and call me if you see anything interesting.”
Flack shook his head in disbelief, staring down at the camera as if he wasn’t quite sure what it was. “Oh, fuck you, Messer,” he said, storming off toward the café.
Danny approached the sergeant – Boscovitch, he thought, glancing at the name on his uniform. “Sarge?” he said. “Mind if I have a word?”
“You wanna yell at me too?” the sergeant demanded, turning to face Danny.
Danny held up his hands placatingly. “No, no. I was just gonna apologize for Flack. He sorta goes overboard sometimes.”
“You think?” Boscovitch snorted. “I remember when Don was a kid; he was the same way. Use to bitch every time he didn’t get his way. It looks like he hasn’t changed since.”
Danny blinked. The guy was probably old to have known Flack, or Flack’s father, more likely, but – huh. “Looks like he didn’t recognize you,” he observed. Or didn’t care, probably, knowing Flack. “Look, I was wonderin’, when you got here, did you see anyone running out of the café?”
“Which one?” he asked. “When I got here, my boys had already cleared everyone onto the street. You’ll want to talk to PO Velasquez over there – he was first on the scene.”
“Thanks, Sarge,” Danny said, turning away.
“Hey, Detective,” the sergeant called.
“Yeah?”
“That female detective, Bonasera. She gonna be okay?” For a brief second, there was naked fear in his eyes, and Danny understood it. If Stella died, he could very well lose his job.
“I don’t know,” Danny said.
*
“So, I got the tapes from the security cameras,” Flack said, looking happy with himself.
“Yeah? What about my camera?”
“On your kit.” He jerked his head in the direction of one of the tables. “I didn’t touch anything, so you ain’t got nothing on me, Messer.”
Danny picked up his camera and pretended to examine it. He set it back down next to his kit after a moment. “Well, it looks like you didn’t hurt it.”
“…you CSIs are some kinda fucked up.”
“Hey, thanks.”
Flack shook his head in disbelief. “You heard from Mac yet?”
Danny set his mouth in a thin line. “No.”
“Someone shoulda gone with her in the ambulance,” Flack said. He stared fixedly out the window. “She shouldn’t’a had to go alone, ya’ know. It’s not –” He shook his head again. “When you’re hurt bad, you need someone there, even if you’re not awake. It’s good to know someone’s there for you, that someone’s got your back. That you’re not alone.”
“EMS wouldn’t let anyone in,” Danny said. “And Mac’s there, now. He won’t leave her alone.”
“Mac,” Flack said. “Ya’ really think that, Danny? He’s got – he’s gonna – fuck. Stella needs someone got their head on straight, someone that’s not gonna pat her hand and go off to catch the guy done it. She needs someone that’s not gonna leave her whenever he gets a call from the lab, someone saying, oh, ballistics is back. When your partner’s hurt, you don’t just – aw, Christ. Jesus Christ.” He closed his eyes tightly for a moment. “Fuck, but I wanna get my hands on the guy did this. Give me five minutes – just five minutes – in a room alone with the bastard, an’ he’ll regret for the rest of his life. You don’t fuck with my people, damn it.”
“Flack,” Danny said. The other detective looked over at him. “We’re gonna catch the guy.”
*
“Joey,” Val Constantine said.
“Yeah, boss?”
“You know my nephew, Danny?”
“Yeah. What about him? Ain’t he a cop or somethin’ now?”
“An NYPD detective with the Patrisos out for his head.”
“Well, that’s new. What’d he do? Arrest the wrong guy?”
“Killed Curly Sassone. One of his co-workers is the one who shot Phil DiCarlo.”
“No wonder Fat Freddy’s not too fond of him, then. Good for him. I always knew the kid would go places.”
“I want you to keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn’t find himself looking down the wrong end of a gun.”
Joey Sforza shrugged in a fluid slither of skin and muscle and tossed aside his magazine. “Sure, right on it, boss. Where’s the kid?”
“Running a crime scene a few blocks from CSI headquarters. If he’s not there, hang around HQ till he shows up. I don’t want him to go one minute outta doors without you, Ace, or Carmine on his back.”
“Seein’s as he’s a cop an’ all, that’s not gonna go over real well. He know about all this?”
“Not really.”
“So the plan’s not to get caught, killed, or arrested?”
“Pretty much.”
“I got license?”
“To kill.”
“Sweet.”
“One more thing, Joey.”
“There’s always a catch, ain’t there.”
“Not really a catch. Just another part of the job.”
“So bring it on.”
“Danny’s on a team, yeah?”
“If you say so.”
“Detectives Mac Taylor, Stella Bonasera, Aiden Burn, and Don Flack.”
“Okay.”
“Flack’s the one who shot DiCarlo.”
“Good on him. Always knew those bluebloods hadta have somethin’ goin’ for ‘em.”
“It’s possible the Patrisos will try and hurt them to get to Danny.”
“So I’ll take Ace, leave you with Carmine.”
“Two are easier to catch than one.”
“So I’ll take Carmine and leave you with Ace. ‘Sides, d’Alessandro’s got better eyes.”
“…Ace only has one eye, Joey.”
“My point exactly.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2005-05-09 01:57 am (UTC)And Flack. Oh, Flack. Tight with frustration, the sense that he wants to break something, that he's probably got his fists so tight his palms are bleeding, is palpable and perfectly him.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-05-09 02:14 am (UTC)I literally couldn't write action for that scene, just dialogue, except for Joey's shrug. Val's a piece of work, and Joey, Carmine, and Ace are...something else. I pity the Patriso that tries to kill Danny on their watch. They're the comic relief, I suppose. But deadly all the same.
Tight with frustration, the sense that he wants to break something, that he's probably got his fists so tight his palms are bleeding, is palpable and perfectly him.
Stella could be dying, could be dead, and he can't do a damned thing. He couldn't even get in the ambulance with her and hold her hand, tell her it's all right. There's a book called Cop I bought and flipped through. The author was a LAPD sergeant, and he talked about a scene where he went to the hospital with one of his officers. You don't leave your people alone, and Flack knows that. That's what he was raised on. And yet EMS is denying him that, and so is Mac - they need to stay at the scene - and so Stella is left with Mac, who Flack considers an emotional imbecile. He's probably right.
Also, I'm somewhat surprised Danny got his camera back in one piece.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-05-09 02:46 pm (UTC)The dialogue works very well for them--it lends a certain air of backroom mystery to the both of them, and their speech does an excellent job of painting their purpose and personality.
There's a book called Cop I bought and flipped through. The author was a
LAPD sergeant, and he talked about a scene where he went to the hospital with one of his officers.
Oh...that one? The book by Middleton? I've seen that around... is it good/worth the price?
You don't leave your people alone, and Flack knows that. That's what he was raised on. And yet EMS is denying him that, and so is Mac - they need to stay at the scene - and so Stella is left with Mac, who Flack considers an emotional imbecile. He's probably right.
Right. It's more than wanting to be with his partner--he *has* to be. He needs to be, or else the world isn't right. It's superstitious, in a way. It's like thinking--not outright, but essentially--"If I'm not there, she could die. If I'm there, she won't." Partner as talisman. If he's not there, on that level, he's thinking: she's going to die. On the higher level, it's--if I'm not there, they'll be poking her, and hurting her, and messing with her badge, and messing with evidence, and not asking her if she's okay or answering her questions when she wakes up.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-05-10 12:18 am (UTC)Ah, excellent. Val and his crew weren't even supposed to be in NYM, and I gotta leave something for Omerta. Some days I can write really good dialogue, some days I couldn't write it to save my life.
Oh...that one? The book by Middleton? I've seen that around... is it good/worth the price?
*shrugs* It seems like a decent book. I haven't read it yet, just bits and pieces, but it rings pretty true. He doesn't have the way with words Conlon does, but it's good all the same. I've read worse.
Right. It's more than wanting to be with his partner--he *has* to be. He needs to be, or else the world isn't right. It's superstitious, in a way. It's like thinking--not outright, but essentially--"If I'm not there, she could die. If I'm there, she won't." Partner as talisman. If he's not there, on that level, he's thinking: she's going to die. On the higher level, it's--if I'm not there, they'll be poking her, and hurting her, and messing with her badge, and messing with evidence, and not asking her if she's okay or answering her questions when she wakes up.
Exactly. You go with your partner, always, especially if they're hurt. He learned that from Gavin. As it is, Stella has nobody with her that he knows about, not even some stranger uniform. Not him, not Danny, not even Mac, yet, and doctors don't understand. You don't leave an injured officer alone. On another level, it's vulnerability, I suppose. If I'm not there, someone could come and kill her, kidnap her, hurt her more, and Flack's going to be concentrating more heavily on that than he would otherwise, especially following what happened to him in Snafu.