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Tennyson | Cafferty
Leaps of Faith
Mon Dec 5, 2005 13:05

Tennyson, someone wishes to speak with you.

Those words always sounded so forboding, especially when coming from a cop the size of Devon. She'd graduated from the academy a year after he had, where his exploits had already become legendary. He'd foiled a bank robbery second week on the job, and had been routinely commended and promoted through the ranks until his recent elevation to detective. And then the breakdown had occurred.

At least that was what they all whispered.

Sonnet wasn't going to pry into his personal life. What happened off duty stayed off duty. But the rumors were decidedly dark, and she was a fellow officer. Clasping his elbow in a silent show of solidarity, because someone had to be on Devon's side, the female officer offered another of her lazy smiles to the Italian before sauntering back down the hallway and into the victim's private room.

The first person that caught her attention was Hugh, hovering protectively on the far side of the hospital bed, flanked by a possible pro wrestler on the other side. The contrast between the two men was so striking that Sonnet found herself forcing back a laugh.

"Hi. Didn't expect to see you guys until morning."

The aging actor spared a brief glance away from Mister Cafferty, leveling an unusually solemn expression at her, but someone else beat him to the punch.

"Sounds like someone has been spending entirely too much time with the wrong sort of men." Heavy fingers closed gently against her shoulders, Ben's voice rumbling quietly just behind her left ear. "You knew we'd come, pumpkin. That's why you called."

He paused, gesturing his partner away from Sean's side so Nightengale could settle down there instead. Neither she or John appeared to be in any hurry to leave. Hugh rose, exchanging his seat for a comfortable position on Sonnet's right shoulder, so the slim woman found herself flanked by both actors.

"How odd, to work on one's night off."

Such a dramatist. The officer refrained from rolling her eyes, and quietly explained that she'd agreed to cover a shift for another cop who was upstairs in the maternity ward with his wife. "I don't have a life, he has a new daughter, so it's all good."

She knew her father wanted to lecture, the twitching of his mustache was a dead giveaway. But they were all in public, she was on duty and she was armed. It didn't matter that he had enough special ops training to take it away from her, dressing down your own child in public wasn't something that either parent would ever do.

A glance at the clock propelled her out of the room with hurried farewells, and a promise to return in the morning. Recieving a kiss on each cheek from both father and parental unit, Sonnet made quick her escape - managing another Devon pat and a smile at the handsome thug before vanishing stage left.

Of course the rest of the night went smoothly. Too smoothly. She broke up a couple of gang gatherings simply by driving slowly past the entrance to a park with her cruiser's headlights on, then resumed en route to her HQ. There was a boat load of paperwork associated with being first 'on scene' with a beating victim.

It wasn't until after midnight that she pulled into the parking garage that serviced her apartment complex. As buildings went, it was an older model -- built sometime in the nineteen twenties with the appropriate Art Deco flourish. Once home to a gaggle of wealthy matrons, it had fallen into some disrepair over the decades until mostly lower and lower-middle income families lived in the three dozen apartments.

What set Sonnet's abode apart from the rest was a wall panel to the left of the door, which had no visible lock. Instead, she merely pressed her hand against the pad and was admitted access when her identity was confirmed. Very high tech. Very secure. It wasn't something a cop with her salary could afford.

Neither was the rest of the decor. A living room, kichenette slash dining alcove and her bedroom suite abounded with very simply decorated furnishings. For example, the small table in her kitchen seemed plain at first glance, but a few more revealed the wood was an expensive mahogany. Same with the couch in the living room, the material imported from South America.

Even her phone had a small tracing unit settled next to her answering machine.

The little red blinking '3' told her how many people had called since she'd left early that morning.


One was from the neighborhood drycleaner - good news, her spare uniforms were ready. The second was predictably from Ben, letting her know the boy was still in surgery. Not surprising, considering the amount of damage to be repaired. The third call was decidely odd.

There was no message, just a brief spate of silence before the caller hung up. Frowning, she star sixty-nined it and wound up with an untraceable cell number. Since her private number was unlisted, there was little chance of someone trying to get a business and calling the residence instead.

The first thing Sean noticed when his eyes opened was the different color and texture of the ceiling. Where the room above his bed had once been a lovely old oak, it was now an off white and smelled faintly of bleach. The second thing, of course, was the fact he couldn't move his left arm. Someone had secured it tightly to his side, and the actor wondered errantly if he'd been on the recieving end of some practical joke.

There must have been quite a bar hopping.

Yawning, he tried to clear his throat and nearly gagged on the tubes shoved down his throat. The sound of someone choking to death on plastic brought ... a nurse around the cheap plastic curtain, finally alerting the blonde to the fact that something was terribly wrong.

"Good afternoon, Mister Cafferty."

Oh gawd. She was chipper, picking up the clipboard at the foot of his bed and making a notation. Then after checking his vitals, the harridan removed the offending obstruct.

Sean immediately wished she'd stick it right back in. The pain was almost excruciating. Christ, that really must have been some bender. How else would he end up in the hospital? Panic settled in right about then, with an agitated patient demanding the use of a telephone. If he didn't call in to work immediately, he would lose his job.

Yes. Cafferty, Sean had a job. The devious bitch (her nomenclature had been updated) slipped something into his IV hookup right before informing him that it was probably too late, since he had been in and out of consciousness for almost two days.

Four days.


The second time he pulled himself out of the drug-induced stupor, there were visitors. John was slumped in a chair right next to the cot, murmuring quietly to Lucy, who sat across the way, about some sort of puzzling problem. But the demerol was still being pumped regularly into his system, or so that is what the half empty IV bag told him when he looked up. The movement brought both faces around to him, worry and affection mingling naked on each.

"Hi ...." And then he was out again.

Third time is the charm, or so that's what they say. Sunlight bravely trying to stream in through the small window announced a time situated well before noon. The empty chair to his right signaled Lucy's non attendance to sleepy eyes, the occupied chair to his left suggested, well ...


Sean wanted to curl into that voice, to let the big giant tell him everything was going to be alright. He remembered something about violent dreams, but his head was clearer now, if nowhere near to letting him know what had happened. And the Irishman was too proud to beg, at least for now.

"Hi, sunshine. You look like shit."

Sure, his voice cracked on that final word, but the actor was pretty damn proud of himself for sounding human. Experimenting anew with motion, he moved his right hand over to brush fingertips against John's wrist. "We must have had some party, baby ... I didn't get embarassingly drunk, did I?"

Blue eyes searched darker ones for any clue as to why he'd been captured and put in the clinical zoo.

[OOC: I kept rewriting Penny and Janey w/o getting anywhere IC so I'm tossing up the two characters I got somewhere with. Enjoy. ~K]

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