Echoes - Part I

[Robbie C.]

I'm not sure how quickly this one will flow, or how long it'll end up being. But I figured I'd bore y'all one more time with my ramblings. It takes up right after The More Things Change... wraps up.

 

If there was one thing Earl Lester Holmes hated more than the Federal government and illegal aliens, and Communists if he was honest, it was not knowing. And right now he was pissed as hell.

“What do you mean you don't know?” He glared across at his right hand man, thick fingers balling into a fist.

“I mean I don't know, boss. Honest. I tried drivin' out there, but the cops have the road closed off. Couldn't see no smoke, but there was choppers in the air and all that crap.” Benny looked down at the scarred bar top. “I think someone done took that spic Moncado out.”

Holmes looked down at his open Budweiser bottle, turning the thought over in his head. Benny wasn't one to exaggerate. Or lie, in point of fact. He'd known Benny for years, going back to before he was drafted and sent over to Vietnam. He might be as dumb as a box of dead toads, but he was loyal. Loyal counted for much in Holmes' view of things. “You see any sign of the colonel?”

“No, boss.” Benny's eyebrows went up, vanishing in the thicket of hair falling almost into his eyes. “You figure he was there?”

He said he was gonna be. Had some old mess to clean up, he said. Well, maybe that mess cleaned him up. Holmes and the colonel went way back, not as far as he and Benny but to Vietnam at least. Holmes had managed to con his way into a depot job in Saigon instead of his original assignment with the 1^st Battalion, 16^th Infantry north of the capital. He'd been sitting in one of the ammo facilities counting his blessings when the tall man with the thick, dark mustache he'd sported even then came in. He glared at the office in charge, a reedy captain with thick black-framed glasses and no backbone, and turned to Holmes. “Sergeant,” he said in a strange nasal voice. “I need two thousand rounds of 7.62mm belted ammo and three LAWs.”

The captain started stammering about requisition forms and authority, when the man with eagles on his collar and no nametape cut him short. “”No one's talking to you, boy. I'm talking to the sergeant. You going to get those items, sergeant?”

Even then Holmes had a well-developed survival instinct. He guessed the captain might write him up, but he knew this strange colonel would do much worse and not think twice about it. Something in the man's intense eyes, perched above that mustache and a narrow, hawk-like nose, said he didn't tolerate dissent. So he snapped off his best drill field salute. “Yes, sir. Just getting it together now, sir,” he said in as firm a voice as he could muster before scurrying off to the weapons lockers. Within minutes he was back with the ammunition and had some slack-jawed PFC toting the LAWs.

They'd been doing business ever since, with breaks of months in some cases due to travel on Maynard's part. The captain had been set to make a fuss when he found himself transferred to a firebase a few miles from the Cambodian border. Holmes, on the other hand, thrived. He'd made good money helping the colonel he lated learned was named Maynard arrange for weapons and other supplies. Taking a deep drink of beer, he let his mind wander back to those sweaty days filled with the smell of raw sewage, fermenting rotting fish, and a mass of other, unidentifiable smells meaning Saigon to him. To this day he couldn't stomach the stench of an outhouse.

It had been money that brought them together, and kept them together if Holmes was honest. Sure it was great fun to watch Maynard kick the Commies in the nuts, but he appreciated good old American cash even more. And if the bastard had gone and gotten himself killed he'd have to work hard to find someone with pockets as deep.

Benny interrupted his musings. “What do you want me to do, boss?”

“Get back over there and sniff around. See if you can find a cop who wants a drink or some quick cash and find out what the hell happened. Then get back here quick. If the colonel's dead I want to know, understand?” He waited until Benny nodded and turned away from the bar before finishing his beer. It was always good to make sure Benny understood what he'd been told.

 

TWO WEEKS LATER

 

The hospital room smelled of antiseptic and some kind of bleach. Sonny Crockett had never liked the smell of hospitals, but there was no helping it. Martin Castillo wanted to see him. He'd been able to steal a couple of days with Jenny, but that looked to be over now. And to Tubbs' eternal regret she didn't have a sister.

Two long weeks had passed since the firefight at Tico Moncado's estate in the Florida Keys, and the various agencies supporting the Task Force were still picking at the pieces like coyotes circling the corpse of an ox. DEA practically had multiple orgasms over the documents Moncado had in his well-appointed study; details of deals going back years with a variety of players in the Southeast and beyond. He suspected the CIA was worried about what a search of Maynard's files would disclose, but Sonny and his team had been careful to take any of Maynard's files with them before they left the scene of the firefight. Sonny and Rico both knew the value of insurance when dealing with the Feds. ATF impounded every automatic weapon they could find, and blanched when a search of the estate turned up four more LAWs and almost twenty pounds of plastic explosives, all military-grade. And the FBI issued release after release claiming they'd had someone inside the organization and had been waiting for the right moment to stage a raid.

Dave, the more outspoken of the three deputy marshals assigned to the Task Force, had laughed loud and long when he heard that. “In FBI-speak that means 'we have no idea what the holy fuck just happened, but you can believe us when we claim we did.' It's horse shit. Always has been.”

Sonny was still sorting it out in his head when he walked into the private hospital room, showing his ID to the deputy on duty. They'd kept security tight since the evac chopper with Castillo and Randy on board landed on the hospital roof. Randy, the second of their three deputies and Dave's spotter from their scout-sniper days in Vietnam, had stabilized Castillo after Maynard shot him, and the medics on the medivac credited him with saving the lieutenant's life. “I just did my damned job,” was all Randy would say.

Breathing shallow to avoid as much of the hospital smell as possible, Sonny stepped in and smiled. Unlike the other times he'd been by, Martin Castillo was awake. Propped up in the bed with pillows, he looked tired, the stubble on his face a dark mask making him even more sinister that usual. Trudy Joplin sat next to the bed holding Castillo's hand, and she smiled when Sonny came in. “Look who's come to visit, Marty.”

Castillo managed a thin smile. “It's about time.”

“Hell, Marty. It's about time you were actually awake when I came by.” His laugh was only slightly forced. “Mindy said you wanted to see me, so here I am.” He walked over to the bed. “I gotta say you're looking better.”

“I understand we got Maynard.”

“Trudy got Maynard.” Sonny nodded to her. “But yeah, he and Moncado are both gone.”

“Good.” Castillo closed his eyes for a moment. “That's good to know. And the task force?”

“We're still in business. The chief deputy sent us all on leave pending the return of our wounded, but we're still operational.” Sonny smiled. “He's happy as hell we made the FBI look bad for starters, and he's not complaining about the goodwill coming from the DEA and ATF, either. I don't think the CIA's very happy, but they'd have to admit they exist to show they were pissed. Rico and I also have some insurance, just in case.”

“Good.” Castillo squeezed Trudy's hand and then locked eyes with Sonny. “I'm putting you in charge of the Task Force effective immediately. If we stop moving, other agencies will take shots at us. I've already told the chief deputy you will be acting in my place until I return to duty.”

Sonny felt his eyes go wide. “Marty, I...”

“You're ready for the responsibility. There are notes in my desk to help you along.” He closed his eyes again and sank back on the pillows.

Trudy got to her feet. “The doctors say Stan should be back to work in a day or two, and Lester not long after that. He'll be on crutches and in two casts, but he swears he can still run a recorder and check taps.” She bent down and kissed Castillo on the forehead. “I'll be right back, honey.” Then she turned and led Sonny into the hall, shutting down his questions with a raised hand.

“But Trudy, I...”

“It took him all morning to work up the strength for that little show.” Her voice was low but hot. Sonny couldn't remember ever hearing her this mad before. “It could be weeks before he's back, and they'd shut us down by then. You know that as well as I do. The Task Force means everything to him.”

“No, Trudy. You mean everything to him. But I get it.” Sonny pushed his fear back down inside. He'd always hated being in charge, but he knew Castillo was right. And he owed this to Marty. Hell, he owed at least this to Marty. “I'll do it. You take as much time as you need to get him better. He'll heal faster knowing you're there.” Now it was his turn to raise his hand. “I know you want to help. Come in when you can and keep working intel. Mindy's good, and she can pick up the slack while you're tending to Marty.” He reached down and took her hands. “Without him the Task Force is nothing. I'll hold the fort, but we need him back.” He looked down the hall, toward the other two rooms. “What about Gina?”

“I see her almost every day.”

“Could you...” He paused, not quite sure what to say. “Tell her I kept that promise. Or that Dave kept it for me. She'll understand. And let her know there's still a spot for her if she's interested. I know she's happy where she is, but it's always good to know you have options, too.”

“I'll let her know, Sonny.” Trudy leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. I know this isn't easy, but it's for Marty. And I'd better get back to him.”

Sonny stood in the hall for a time after she left, letting the reality sink in. They were down so many people he'd have to keep working the field, which didn't bother him a bit. What worried him was having to sit and do paperwork and talk to clowns who'd never done a day undercover and built their reputations on the work of others. He was more comfortable running and gunning than he was walking and talking. But Marty asked, and he'd given his word. “Shit,” he muttered as he turned and walked out into the Miami afternoon heat.

 

The remains of the task force looked up when Sonny entered the conference room from the outer office. Mindy's crutches were propped up behind her chair. The ankle she'd twisted during the firefight at Moncado's estate was still giving her trouble, but she looked up and smiled, her blue eyes sparking and set off by her red hair. Dave and Randy, the bookend former scout-snipers, sat together near the end of the table, still going through their range cards and notes from the fight. And Ricardo Tubbs sprawled in one of the chairs in all his Armani-clad glory.

Settling into the chair at the head of the table, Sonny felt like a little boy sneaking into his father's chair just before a formal Christmas dinner. “Ok, people. I'll make this quick. I spoke to the lieutenant today, and he must have hit his head in addition to everything else because he put yours truly in charge until he gets back. On the bright side, Stan should be back in a day or two and Lester soon after that. Lester won't be jumping any fences, but he'll be good to go in the tech room and that's where we'll need him. Trudy will be helping the lieutenant and coming in when she can to help with intel. She wanted to do more, but I told her the first thing is to get Marty well.”

Dave looked up from his notes. “Gotta say it. He made a good choice. We got your back, boss.”

Sonny nodded, knowing if he tried to say anything he'd just sound like an ass. But it meant the world hearing Dave say that. The deputy was the more critical of the three, always first with a sharp remark if someone did something stupid. Knowing he had the sniper's confidence made him feel better about being in charge, even for a short time.

Randy nodded his agreement. “You got strong tactical sense and you're fair as hell. When do we get our next op, boss?”

“As soon as your chief sends one our way.” He turned to Mindy. “Castillo says he already talked to him, but could you make sure he knows we're operational?” He chuckled and corrected himself. “Well...we're at least ready for limited duty.”

She smiled, dimples showing on her pale cheeks. “I'll do that, boss. Anything else we need?”

“A new Bug Van. I'd like to be able to welcome Stan home with something more than a charred tire and melted hula girl bobble head doll.”

“You got it.” She gathered up her crutches and hobbled to the outer office.

“Tubbs, I want you to give me a hand. Castillo said something about notes in his desk.”

A knowing smile crossed Rico's face. “Let's get on it, partner. I mean boss.”

As soon as they were in the office, Sonny let out an exasperated sigh. “Not you, too, man. It feels strange enough sitting in his damned chair without those three calling me boss. It's...”

“It's respect, Sonny. You earned theirs out there in the Keys. You should hear Mindy talk about how you stood up in front of Maynard, or Dave and Randy go on about you blasting those chumps by the door. It's their way of showing respect, and don't treat it like anything less.”

Sonny swallowed the verbal slap without comment. He knew Rico was right. And the last thing he wanted to do was ignore their respect. It just all felt so damned strange. Shaking his head, he sat down in Castillo's chair, feeling again like a kid sneaking into dad's den and sitting in his special chair. “I know you're right, Rico. It just feels so damned strange. We walk away from the Job for a year and inside of three months I end up running things.”

“Don't try to figure it out, partner. Just...”

“I know. Just roll with it. Damn, I hate that term now.”

“Jenny still playing strange?”

“We basically play 'don't ask, don't tell.' She doesn't ask what I do, and I don't ask what she does. It's this weird dance, but it works for now. But if the Job calls...”

“You'll do what has to be done. I know that, Sonny.” Rico smiled. “I been keepin' tabs on her just in case. So far she's staying away from drugs and not showing up on anyone's radar.”

“Thanks. Let me know if she does.”

“You got it.” Rico was about to say something more when the phone rang.

“Crockett.”

Mindy's soft voice filled his ear. “The deputy chief's on line one, boss. He wants a word.”

“Thanks.” Sonny hit the flashing button and took a deep breath. “Deputy Chief.”

The voice on the other end was Cracker-sharp and old school to the core. “Call me Pete, son. I'll call you detective in polite company if that's ok.” The tone said it was. “I know you're new in the saddle an' all, but we got a situation I think is perfect for the task force.”

“That's what we're here for.”

“Good. You know that damned gang war Metro-Dade's draggin' its feet over? We got intel suggesting it's about controlling the heroin trade in that part of town, maybe the whole city. One of my boys is bringin' the files over in, what the hell did you call it, the bug van?” Pete chuckled, a dry, dusty sound. “You boys got a nice sense of humor. Look forward to a sit-down with you. Have a look-see at those files an' let me know what you need. We want that heroin flow shut down.”

Sonny looked at the buzzing receiver and hung it up with a slight grin.

“You looked like you were in a debate with Yosemite Sam.”

“Maybe I was, partner. That deputy chief sounds like one of those old-time, old school Southern sheriffs.”

“He's black, isn't he?”

“So I hear. But he sure as hell sounds like an old-time Cracker.” Sonny leaned back in the chair. “They're sending a new van and a guy with some files. We get to take down the heroin connection Reno and Tio were tapped into. Then getting killed seems to have sparked that whole Columbian-Dominican turf war.”

It was just past two when Sonny felt he'd gone over the files enough to brief the rest of the task force on their contents. He'd always hated briefings, and it was worse when he had to come up with the content. But Castillo always did his own, and Sonny was determined to follow his example.

“We got our next operation, and it's more of Moncado's garbage.” He raised his hands. “Not going through trash bags like those stiffs in the DEA, though. Higher has good intel that the gang war we keep hearing about is over heroin. The heroin Reno and Tio used to control. With then gone, it's up for grabs and the Columbians want to grab it from the Dominicans. Our job is to shut the flow down.”

Dave looked at the files. “Does higher have anything other than nice pictures an' some gossip they picked up in some cheap bar down on the strip?”
“They do. I was as surprised as you are. Turns out our little buddy Nicky Fuentes is still in the game and still trying to move heroin.”

Randy scratched his chin. “Who's he in bed with?”

“Neither side, yet. They're too busy shooting at each other to go after him, but sooner or later it'll occur to one of them to grab him. My money's on the Columbians. They've been doing this longer. The Dominicans are as tough as they come but they're still pretty new to this side of the drug trade.”

“Pot's always been their calling card.” Rico flipped through the pictures. “They've got good routes and some Jamaican connections. We busted a few of them back when I first came to Miami.” He smiled at a memory. “Teddy Prentiss when I was still using that cover.”

“We might have to resurrect good ol' Teddy once we haul in Nicky. We can't use Cooper from the islands until he's off the street.” Sonny shook his head. “And Burnett is a fixture in the night life. I just can't get away from the guy.”

Mindy looked up from the notes. “Their intel's pretty thin, boss.”

“Trudy should be in tomorrow, and as soon as we get Stan back he can start working his magic on the phones.” He looked around the table. “I know we're starting with next to nothing, but we're also down people and capability. We build our intel and then we pick our targets. The chief deputy wasn't talking about arrests when he called. He wants this problem shut down.” He paused on Dave and Randy. “I know you guys are mostly shooters, and damned good one, but did you want to try your hands at undercover stuff? Something other than Burnett's goons, anyhow.”

Dave shook his head. “I'm happy lookin' like the dumb guy with the gun, boss. Tell the truth, I suck at UC work. I'll step in if you need it, but it ain't my strong suit.”

Randy smiled. “I can do it. Done it before. But we can also gather visual intel for you, boss. Get up high and start scoutin' the lay of the land. Dealers work corners, right? Give us sixteen hours of roof time and I can give you every dealer and every lookout we can see from that roof.”

“That's a hell of a good idea. Mindy, can you pull some target zones for them from what we got from the office?”

“I think so. Trudy would be a big help with that, though. She knows those streets.”

“It can wait until she comes in. At least get some of the prep work done. And you two put in requisitions for whatever gear you need for the job. I'll clear it with Metro-Dade, or at least tell them to stay the hell out of our way.”

Back in Castillo's office, Sonny finally took a normal breath before flopping down in the chair. At least he'd made it through without sounding like an ass. And they'd come out with a decent plan of action. Now he just needed to figure out how to balance the damned paperwork with the time he knew he'd have to spend on the streets.

Sonny Crockett hated paperwork. Always had, going all the way back to his first job applications and football scholarships. Even when people gave him money he hated filling things out. And now he guessed that's what he'd have to do. Reaching into the center drawer of the desk he pulled out a slim black notebook and opened it, finding everything organized and written in a narrow precise hand he guessed had to be Castillo's. It told him were every form was filed, which ones had to be done and which ones he could ignore, and toward the back was a list of contacts for various things ranging from buy money to new tires for their confiscated cars. “Dear God,” he muttered. “A form for new socks?”

“Sounds like you just found paperwork hell.” Rico grinned from the doorway.

“Be careful, pal. There might be a form authorizing me to smack the shit out of you.” Sonny grinned himself, tossing the notebook on the desk. “Marty left a damned good list. I can't complain about that. It's just...”

“We never saw that side of it before.”

“Exactly. I'm surprised the man ever got to leave this office. He does have a list of which ones we have to do, and that's a damned sight shorter. But he can get away with that. I can't.” Sonny shook his head. “I'm the new guy so I have to color inside the lines with the right crayons.”

“I'm sure they'll help out. The marshals, I mean. We made them look damned good out in the Keys. It's the least they can do. At least until we need jobs there.”

“I know. After we hauled in Gorman I don't think anyone at OCB will speak to us again. I know their new lieutenant must hate me and Marty.”

“That chump from homicide? He's in so far over his head with that gang war I'm surprised they haven't hung him out to dry yet.”

“Wait for the next press conference. They might be saving the tar and feathers for that.” Sonny chuckled. “I needed that, Rico. My head was starting to spin. I'm gonna check and see if Dave and Randy have anything they need me to sign off on, and then let's head down to Robbie's club. I need a drink.”

 

The doorman nodded in recognition as they came around from the parking lot. “Mr. Burnett! Mr. Cooper! Head on in. Mr. Cann's in his office, but I'm sure he'd love to see both of you.”

Sonny shot his best Burnett glare at one of the women whining at the entry rope and ushered Rico inside. The Sanctuary had become their unofficial headquarters, and Robbie knew all the healthy task force members by name. After one epic late-night session just after the Keys firefight he, Robbie, Dave, and Randy had traded shots and memories of Da Nang and northern South Vietnam into the wee hours. He'd paid for it the next day, and a bit after that, but it brought the four men closer and he could tell Robbie enjoyed having someone else to bore with his whorehouse stories. Rico had been the babysitter, but sometime after three they'd doused him in beer and declared him an honorary jarhead. The next day Sonny paid for his dry cleaning.

Robbie sat behind his desk, going through what looked to be sales reports for the past month. He smiled and came around as soon as the two walked in. “Paperwork can wait,” he announced, shaking their hands in turn. “This calls for a celebration.”

Rico laughed. “What doesn't call for a celebration?”

“Nothing, and that calls for a celebration.” Robbie laughed. “It's good to see you two. Are Dave and Randy coming?”

“I don't think so. I just needed to get the hell out of the office and Rico had the bad sense to follow me here.”

Robbie went to his private bar and started pouring drinks. “I want you to try this, Sonny. It's a new thing. Small batch bourbon they call it. I think I got the first case in the whole state, and I was saving a bottle just for you.”

“Sonny Crockett trying something new?” Rico laughed. “Better call Channel Two and give them an exclusive.”

“I try new things all the time, Tubbs. Your sister was new, wasn't she?” Sonny grinned, accepting the glass from Robbie. He took a sip and nodded. “This is damned good. Smooth, but not sharp. What's it called?”

“Maker's Mark. Had to special order it.” He handed a glass to Rico and then took a deep sip from his own. “I'd say it's worth it.”

“And we even have an occasion.” Tubbs sipped and nodded his agreement with Sonny's appraisal. “They put Sonny in charge of the task force until the lieutenant's ready for duty again.”

“I thought I felt the earth shift. Sonny Crockett in charge? And I thought a second lieutenant was dangerous enough.”

“Hell, I feel bad enough about it already.”

“Relax, Sonny. You'll do fine. You always would.” Robbie waved them to chairs in front of his desk and sat down himself. “I was always the wild one, remember? The one who didn't think. You were the thinker. And you were the one who always hauled my ass out of trouble. That's what leaders do, Sonny. And you were always up front. No matter how rough the bar was or how hot the convoy AO you were always in the first jeep or right at the door with your .45.”

“That's only because you ate the damned beans and weenies C-rat so much you were farting all the damned time. It was the only way I could survive!” Sonny laughed, sipping at the bourbon with appreciation.

Rico laughed along with them. “My uncle told me about that one from Korea. I guess you are tougher than you look, Robbie.”

“You know us skinny Wops.” Robbie slapped the desk top and laughed. “We're tougher than we look.”

Sonny sipped more bourbon, turning the question over in his head. Finally he just said it. “I know you're not in the game, Robbie, but you and your guys must hear things. What's the real scoop on that turf war between the Dominicans and the Columbians? We're hearing it's heroin.”

Robbie nodded, his face turning grim. “You're hearing right. I hear things mostly because some of the older Dominicans like to drink here Thursday nights. They talk, and my guys keep me up to speed. I think they like it because I don't hassle them.” He smiled. “And they're good to my waitresses and tip well.”

“We're hearing it started because Reno and Tio got taken out.”

“You heard right. That little punk Nicky Fuentes is trying to take control, but he can barely piss in the toilet without hitting his own leg, let alone run something like that.”

“We heard the same thing. Good to know the intel is good for once.”

“You remember our training, Sonny? Verify from at least two sources. Three is better. But yeah, Nicky's trying to strut around, but he's scared most of the time. And it's not his heroin to control.” He raised his hand. “I got no idea who's behind it. I hear it's some scary guy deep in the Dominican quarter, but I don't think he's Dominican. Heroin isn't their thing.”

Tubbs nodded. “Same thing I told the team earlier. They can get good ganja, but H is out of their league.”

“Do me a favor and keep your ears open. Nothing fancy. Don't take any risks. But I need to get a handle on this thing.”

“You got it. Hell, it's bad for business. People get killed and tourists stop coming downtown. So far they haven't gotten the Cubans involved yet, and I hope they don't.”

“So do I. But I think even the Columbians are smart enough to steer clear of that firepower.”

Robbie looked over at Tubbs and chuckled. “So Debbie says you haven't called her back.”

Rico raised his hands. “What can I say? I've been busy. I'm sure she's broken-hearted about missing the Ricardo Tubbs charm.”

“Not sure I'd go that far, but I'd call her again.”

 

It was Stan Switek's first night out of the hospital, and it felt good to have the tubes out of his arms and all the crap untaped from his chest and face. It still hurt when he smiled, and he felt like he'd been run over by a truck loaded with anvils. But he was eager to get back to work.

“Are you sure you want to go back so soon?” Gina's voice echoed from the small kitchen, and he winced as he recognized the tone.

“I am, baby. I know it worries the hell out of you, and I promise I'll be careful.” He set down his orange juice and got up from the couch. “You know how you felt when you started in your new unit? How happy you were when they looked up to you and you found out you could do things they couldn't?” She nodded. “Well, that's how I feel now. I've never felt better about this job in my life. They actually need me, not to get coffee or run some two-bit pawn shop sting, but to actually break the case. They respect what I can do. Sonny respects what I can do. I don't get attitude from him any more.” He looked down at her, touching her cheek and feeling wet tears on his fingers. “But if you want, honey, I'll walk away. Go into business like Duddy did.”

“You wouldn't just transfer?”

“No. OCB won't touch me after that Gorman thing.” Stan snorted. “Never mind he was the one who was dirty. And I couldn't take stepping back down after having been in it where I was. It's hard to go from where you're needed to being just another punk in the lab.” He kissed the top of her head. “But if that's what you want, it's what I'll do. No job is worth losing you. Or making you hurt.”

She sniffed and looked up, tears still shining in her eyes. “I couldn't ask you to do that, Stan. You'd never ask me to give up my job, and there's a chance every day that some pimp might come after me. Or a dealer might want to even the score for me taking one of his people off the street. It just...scared me so much when you got hurt. I didn't stop to think about what it might mean to you.”

“It doesn't mean as much as you.” He took her in his arms and held her close, ignoring the smell of something scorching on the stove top. “You need to know that.”

She giggled and pulled away. “Damn it! The sauce burned!”

“It's ok. It's still better than my cooking.” He enjoyed her laugh. “But I meant what I said.”

“Go back to work, you big lug.” She dried her tears with a corner of the dish towel and smiled up at him. “I could never ask you to give that up. Not until you're ready to walk away because you want to.”

He waited for her to dump the ruined sauce in the sink before pulling her close and kissing her again. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear. “And I'll be as careful as I can.” Then he laughed. “But who the hell knew that psycho would shoot a LAW at the Bug Van?”

Now it was her turn to laugh, and Stan could hear the genuine humor in it. “You have a good point, Stanley Switek. Who in the hell would have thought someone would have a LAW, let alone use it on the van?”

 

The night shift had taken over almost three hours ago, but Trudy Joplin still hadn't left Castillo's bedside. He was asleep, the sheet rising and falling with the rhythm of his breathing, and a variety of beeping and flashing instruments tracked every function of his battered body. She knew she'd have to leave soon, if for no other reason than to shower and change clothes before going in to the Task Force. But she didn't want to leave him alone. Didn't want to go back to the house by the sea without him to hold.

He stirred, and she shot upright. Just in case he opened his eyes. But he settled back down almost at once, and she suspected another dream. Some nights at the house she'd wake up, feeling him shift on the simple sleeping mat, and realize he was dreaming again. He never spoke of them, but she could tell from his face he was often reliving horrible moments. But she'd also noticed the longer she was there the more rare the dreams became. And she also realized her own dreams came less frequently when she was beside him.

Reaching out, she took his hand and squeezed it tight. Willing some of her strength to flow into his torn body. The doctors all said he was healing at a remarkable rate, but it still seemed too slow to her. She needed him now, not in three weeks or however long it took.

Still, she knew she was being selfish. Everyone had been by to pay their respects, even Stan with his bruises and Lester hobbling along on his crutches and sling. She envied Gina. Stan had gone home today. She had her man, while Trudy still waited on hers.

If the doctors weren't so worried about infection he'd be home by now. One of the nurses had confided in her during one of those long nights. He'd already had one cycle of antibiotics, and they wanted to be sure before they let him leave.

“You need sleep, baby.”

His voice sent her to her feet. “I just wanted...”

“Knowing you're here gives me comfort.” His voice was thin, dried out by too much hospital air. “But they need you, too. Go home. Get some sleep.” He gave her a thin smile. “That's an order.”

“You can't tell me what to do.” But she smiled back, squeezing his hand and kissing his forehead. “But I do need to go in tomorrow.”

“Go. I'll see you tomorrow night.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.

She drove to the house in a fog, not paying attention to anything until she turned onto the now-familiar dirt road. The Charger growled its way along, and she followed his routine of shutting off the headlights before the last turn and approaching under the cover of darkness. She sat for a minute, window rolled down, listening to the rhythmic thump of the big V-8, before she shut off the car and waited while the night settled back over the house.

The heavy MatchMaster hadn't left her side since the shootout in the Keys. Now it rested in her purse, and she smiled as she felt the familiar heft when she picked up the small clutch and got out of the car. At first she hadn't been sure about the change, but after that gun saved both Marty and Sonny she vowed she'd never part with it.

The house seemed empty without Castillo, and she kept the lights low as she went about getting ready for bed. After so many years of sleeping alone she had the routine down, but it still felt like something was missing. Like a piece of her, and of the house, wasn't there. Stripping, she pulled on one of his white t-shirts, imagining for a moment she could still smell him on it. A few minutes with the waves and she was ready to sleep. Maybe tonight the dreams would be good ones.

[mjcmmv]

This is good! Love Sonny's reaction to being in charge. And the praise he got from the team was a nice touch. Terrific start!