Friends
Peggy
Rollie wondered what he was doing here as his long legs decided, for the dozenth time (or more!), to go in two different directions and he ended up sitting on the ice, snow swirling around him. He wasn't a skater, he knew it, but here he was trying anyway. The first four times, Angie was immediately at his side, helping to pick him up, asking if he was all right, brushing the snow off of him. She stopped only after he repeatedly assured her he was fine. This last time, he heard her friends snicker and he really wondered why he was here. He looked over to where they glided past, graceful and sure. Angie was laughing at something one of the men had said. He felt his face burn as he imagined it was something about the clumsy oaf she'd introduced them to earlier. Angie didn't need him here. She had her old friends from college. They spoke of things he didn't understand, people he didn't know and events he never heard of before. With a sigh, he gathered himself back up on his feet and cautiously made his way to the side of the outdoor rink. He removed the rental skates and returned them to the stand. With a last, lingering glance at Angie, graceful and beautiful on the ice, he turned and walked away, positive he wouldn't be missed.
Angie laughed at Brian's joke and glanced around for Rollie. She wished she could spend more time with him, showing him what to do and how to do it. He could be a good skater, given practice and some patient instruction. Asking Rollie to join them today was a mistake. She should have at least brought him out earlier so he could get a modicum of experience at it first. She didn't like the way her old friends laughed at his mishaps. It wasn't Rollie's fault that he didn't know how to skate. It wasn't exactly a skill one acquired in the Outback. She frowned and slowed down as she didn't spot his tall, lanky, brown haired form.
"Hey Angie! Come on!" Sylvia called to the blonde. "You're falling behind, girl friend."
"I don't see Rollie." Angie answered back absently.
"Ah forget it, Angie." Brian responded with a snicker. "I think he finally gave up and left."
"Face it, Angie! The old boy just wasn't cut out for skates." Toby snickered. "Good thing he left before he hurt himself."
Angie turned a cold blue stare on her college friends. She really was getting tired of them picking on Rollie. They'd deliberately made sure they talked about things the Aussie wouldn't know, leaving him out. She shouldn't have asked Rollie to come and she should have told her friends she couldn't make it. She'd wanted her friends to meet her best friend, but she realized she'd made a mistake. And it wasn't like she was close to any of this crowd. They'd always been more... snobby and cooler than she was. Sometimes, she wondered why they had ever talked to her. Then she remembered all the tutoring she'd done for them. Her cool gaze considered her friends in a dispassionate light. Talk, dark haired, broad shouldered Toby (Didn't look at all like a Toby!) with the petite, blonde (Straight from a bottle) beauty of Sylvia. Tall, graceful, cool Angela (Never Angie!) with the carefully quaffed blond, taller, athletic Brian. Not her crowd, not really. Certainly not her style. She'd thought it would be fun, but she was now remembering how she'd always felt like a fifth wheel and how she'd always felt used and slightly soiled after being with this foursome. They were a foursome too. Their parents were loaded, successful and oh so busy. The couples were expected to marry soon. (The reason given for visiting the city.) She was the token to give appearances that money wasn't everything to them. Why hadn't she remembered? Or had she thought they'd changed after experiencing a little Real Life? Yeah, right, she mentally snorted, as if they'd ever come near Real Life. Decision made, she called over her shoulder, heading for the side of the rink. "I'm out of here, guys. Have fun!" Before they could protest, she quickly shed her skates and lightly ran from the rink, sharp eyes looking for her partner.
Angie slowed to a walk as she neared the red pickup, still searching for a trace of Rollie. Damn. Of course, he'd leave the pickup for her to use. Now, just where was he? She started the truck and pulled out into traffic, taking the route to Rollie's loft. Her eyes scanned the sidewalks, looking for the tall Australian. She ignored the impatient traffic behind her, driving slowly so she wouldn't miss him. Unfortunately, she reached the old brewery without seeing any trace of the man. Where was he? Why hadn't she seen him? Angie knew he hadn't reached home before her. He hadn't been gone that long. So where was he? She chewed on her bottom lip, considering, worrying about him. Where would Rollie go if he didn't come home? Perhaps he'd gone to Midtown South to visit with Francis and Mira? She climbed out of the truck and hurried inside to use the phone. On the chance, Rollie had beaten her home by some miracle, she paused by the telephone and called out first. "Rollie? Rollie? Are you here?" She waited a moment and not receiving an answer, picked up the phone, dialing Mira Sanchez's number. For some reason, she could always remember Mira's phone number, but not Frank Gatti's. "Mira? Hi. Have you seen Rollie?"
"No. No, we were skating and he left early. I thought he'd headed home, but he's not here."
"No, I don't..."
"But..."
"Mira! Look, I just want to find Rollie. A simple yes or no would have been fine. I don't want a manhunt and you don't have to practice your interrogation techniques on me."
"Okay then. If you see him, let him know I called."
"Thanks. Yeah, talk to you later."
"Damn it, Rollie Tyler. Where are you?!?" Angie muttered, partially in anger, but mostly in worry and concern.
Angie paced the workshop and fretted. As time passed and there was still no sign of her partner, she began to feel like she was going crazy not knowing. Part of her thought she was being silly, since Rollie Tyler was a grown man and could take care of himself. He certainly didn't have to report to her. The other part was becoming more and more worried. While Rollie was grown and didn't have to report his whereabouts, he was also constantly getting into trouble. Seeking relief from her concern, she turned on the television and flitted from channel to channel. It seemed all that was on at the moment was news (which fed her imagination), cop shows (which fed her imagination) and then there were the so-called 'reality' shows. They presented her with some of her worst case possibilities. In desperation, she went up to the clean room and started to work.
Two hours later, Angie's nerves were shot and she was furious. When Rollie got home, she was going to give him a piece of her mind for scaring her like this. He was probably fine. He was probably off playing somewhere, having a good time and not even thinking about her. The very idea of him worrying her like this. She got up to leave, determined not to waste any more time. Part way down the stairs, she stopped. But what if he wasn't having a good time? What if something had happened? A car accident? A mugging? Maybe he'd been kidnapped or... Angie sat down on the step and tried to reel in her runaway thoughts. She felt like she was being torn in two. For every reasonable explanation for Rollie's continued absence, she came up with a situation that had actually happened to keep him away. The high school and those armored car robbers, the guys who'd kidnapped them so they could make use of Rollie's make-up skills, maybe one of the criminals Rollie'd helped catch had come looking for revenge. Or maybe it had nothing to do with any of that. Maybe he'd been hit by a car or maybe he'd taken a long walk in the park and ended up at one of the zoos. He could have stopped for a beer and ended up exchanging outrageous stories with an old mate that he hadn't seen in forever. Hell, he could have run into an old girl friend and maybe they decided to relive some of their good times! She buried her head in her hands. Get a grip, she thought. If you don't, you'll be a basket case by the time Rollie does show up. Do I really want to yell at him? He doesn't know I'm worried about him. He probably thinks I'm out with my old 'friends' having a good time of my own. He has every right to be out and about, doing something fun. He probably needed it to get rid of the bad taste that lot left in his mouth. I should never have dragged him off with us. I should have told them that I couldn't make it.
The blonde looked up in relief as the door to the loft opened. The relief quickly changed to worry. Rollie looked awful! Francis helped him over to the couch.
"Are you sure you don't want me to call Angie?" He asked in concern.
Rollie shook his head and winced. "No, she's out with her friends. She deserves to have a good time and not be fretting about me. I'll be okay and she can yell at me tomorrow."
"I really don't like leaving you here alone, Rollie. You lost quite a bit of blood and your arm has to be hurting. If you won't let me call Angie, how about coming to stay at my place?"
Her anger turned to ashes, Angie stood up. "That's okay, Frank." Angie's soft words caused both men to jump. Neither of them had noticed her sitting on the steps to the clean room. She moved over to join them and brushed Rollie's hair back from his face. "What happened?"
Rollie looked down and shrugged slightly. He glanced up at her, then away, unable to meet her eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered ashamed.
"Sorry? Rollie, what happened? I've been waiting for hours." When the Aussie continued looking down, she turned to Frank while resting her hand lightly on her partner's shoulder. "Frank? I called Mira earlier and told her to tell Rollie I was looking for him. What happened?"
"Sorry, Angie. We haven't seen Mira. Rollie got mugged," Frank looked down at the bowed head in concern. "We think it was a drug addict looking for his next hit. Apparently he decided Rollie was as good a target as any. He cut Rollie's arm pretty bad. When I got to the precinct, he was going through the mug shots in the Captain's office. He still hadn't found one of the guy and Captain Van Duran told me to 'take him home before he passes out in my office'."
Angie blinked. Rollie getting mugged wasn't that big a surprise. But Captain Van Duran's office? That didn't sound right. Victims, even ones who helped the police out occasionally, did not go through mug shots in captain's offices! "Rollie?" She sat down, still keeping contact with his shoulder.
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be such a bother." He gave a weak laugh. "Guess I made another mess, huh?"
"You didn't ask to get mugged. Where did it happen?"
When Rollie remained silent, Frank shook his head. Silently, he gestured for Angie to follow him to the door. He looked over at his friend with worried eyes and spoke softly. "I haven't seen the report, Angie and Rollie didn't want to talk about it on the way here. Look, I've got to get back to work. I don't know what happened, but... Take care of him. Okay?"
Angie frowned thoughtfully, watching Rollie as he seemed to huddle in on himself. It was totally out of character for her partner, he normally shrugged off injuries and the like. "You know I will, Frank. And I'm sure Rollie will call if he thinks of anything."
"Yeah," The detective nodded, "And if you or Rollie need anything, you call us. Got it?"
Angie smiled slightly. "I got it. Thanks, Frankie."
Frank hugged his worried friend, giving Rollie one last look. "Anything, Angie. Anytime, day or night."
Angie nodded. "I will."
Angie carefully approached Rollie. "Can I get you anything?" She asked quietly, deeply worried and not wanting to startle him. Right now, he reminded her of a frightened wild animal, not the sturdy partner she knew so well.
Rollie shook his head. He sighed and tried to smile for her.
"Do you have any prescriptions that need filling?" Angie offered, tentatively. She hated this, hated the pain in Rollie's eyes. Did his arm hurt that bad? Were his injuries that painful? Maybe he should have stayed at the hospital, maybe...
The Aussie fumbled one handed at a pocket and pulled out a couple of prescription bottles.
"Maybe you should take one," Angie stated and turned toward the kitchen to get some water.
"No," Rollie responded softly. "The doctor gave me a shot in Emergency." He hesitated for a moment, his face troubled. "I... I think I'll just have a lie down." He looked up at her anxiously, uncertain if Angie would accept his tiny peace offering. He hadn't meant to worry her, to take her away from visiting with her friends. Really, it was such a pitiful offer. Angie should be out having fun, not baby-sitting him because he was in a funk.
Angie examined him carefully, taking in the hurt in his expressive brown eyes, the defensive huddle he still hadn't come out of, the tired lines pinching his face. "That sounds like a good idea," she smiled gently. "I'll tuck you in." And make sure you do go to bed like you obviously need to do. Hopefully, he would be more like himself after a nap. A pathetic hope, but Angie needed it at the moment. Why had she asked Rollie to meet her friends? Why?!? It wasn't like she really cared about them or anything and if she hadn't, then Rollie wouldn't have been... mugged or whatever really happened. She was still puzzled by what Francis had said. Perhaps, Rollie would explain it better... Later, after his nap.
Rollie nodded, knowing better than to reject her offer. He stood, awkwardly and Angie came over and slipped a steadying arm around his waist. He was grateful for her help by the time he reached his bed. He never would have made it upstairs on his own. Between his injuries and the shot the doctor had given him, he was a right mess and felt bloody awful. The shot seemed to be making him slightly nauseous on top of everything else. He was so out of it, he didn't even blush when Angie helped him get out of his jeans. She'd tossed the covers back and helped him slide his long legs on to the bed. His pillow felt so good! He wasn't even aware when Angie followed through and tucked him carefully into his bed, making sure he would be warm and comfortable.
Angie sighed softly and, brushing his hair back from his face, kissed his forehead. "Just yell if you need anything, boss," the blonde whispered against his hair, knowing he hadn't heard her, but needing to say it just the same. She slipped downstairs to find a book or something to occupy her time. Finally finding one she'd been meaning to read in her clean room, she hastened upstairs and settled in a chair, watching Rollie sleep. What really happened to you, Rollie Tyler? She wondered silently and fretted. Why had he been in Van Duran's office of all places?!? While the Captain didn't particularly dislike them, he wasn't very fond of their exploits helping his detectives. She wasn't sure if it was because he thought they shouldn't need Tyler FX's help or if he didn't like endangering civilians. Either way, he tolerated Rollie's presence more than anything. Yes, that was the word that best described it. Tolerate. Not like or dislike or anything else. Rollie (and herself, by extension) was tolerated by the gruff police captain. So why had Rollie been in his office? What had happened to, almost literally, knock the spirit out of the Aussie?
An hour later, Angie was ready when the sleeping man began tossing restlessly, thrashing about a bit under the covers. She instantly sprang to her feet and leapt to his side, trying to soothe Rollie out of the nightmare.
Rollie struggled to escape the sharp blade coming toward him, tripping clumsily on the ice skates on his feet. His arm went up to meet the knife as Angie and her friends stood towering over him, pointing their fingers at him, laughing at him, ridiculing him. Passerbys paused in their busy movements, looking to see what was so funny, joining in the laughter and jeers. He looked toward Angie with sad, brown eyes as the knife raised again, covered in his blood and stabbed down toward his heart. But it had already been wounded to the core and he felt himself dying. He woke with a jerk, his heart pounding hard enough to beat out of his chest. Angie was bent over him, speaking to him softly, stroking his hair. A dream, it was just a dream. No, a nightmare, one of the worse he'd ever experienced, remembering how Angie had laughed at him, while... Okay, he'd had worse, just... not recently. The worse ones, well, he didn't want to think about them. They might decide to come out of their dark hole and join this one in tormenting him. He shook himself and hissed as pain flared in his left arm. All right, all right, he'd been mugged, but Angie hadn't been there. She'd been ice skating and... He forced his muddled brain to think. He'd left, sulking really, because he... He'd felt left out and awkward around her friends. And...
"Shh, shh, it's all right, Rollie." Angie spoke softly in his ear. "It was just a dream, a nightmare. You're safe. You're safe. Shh. Shh." She cautiously slipped her arms around him, trying to be careful and not hurt him, but trying to give what comfort she could with the hug. "It's all right. You are all right." She felt the tremors slowly ease and sat back a bit so she could see her friend's face. Her best friend! She struggled to not shed the tears that sprang to her eyes as she thought how close Rollie had come to dying. He could have died! Alone, while she was skating with people she didn't really know or particularly like that well. She quickly focused herself entirely on the Australian, feeling his chest move under her arms, relishing each breath. She brushed his hair back, and lightly touched his neck, feeling the pounding pulse under her hand that was starting to slow as Rollie came fully awake and out of the nightmare. She also felt the low fever there and became more concerned.
"Angie?" Rollie whispered hoarsely, he shook his head slightly so his hair hid his eyes. He couldn't look at her, right now. He... He shivered.
"Right here, Rol."
"Sor--sorry. I'm sorry."
"Shh. Nothing to be sorry for, Rollie. It's not your fault. It's okay. It's all right." She began the litany of words again, trying to reassure Rollie, even as she wondered what had shaken him so deeply and why he needed comfort so desperately.
"I..." He felt kind of... hot and sick and headachy. He changed what he'd been fixing to say. "I think I better take some of those pills now." He was pretty sure one of the bottles was an antibiotic or something to fight infection, which he must have if he was getting sick. Of course, the way his luck seemed to run, he could be getting the flu. That would figure about right for him. He sighed silently as Angie shifted his pillow, pulled the other one over and leaned him back on them. The Aussie felt somewhat bereft without her holding him. Bloody hell, he was a mess!
Angie hurried down and rescued the bottles from where Rollie had left them. She quickly returned to his side with a big glass of cold orange juice and the pills. She checked the contents and directions, then shook out two of the antibiotics. She offered them to him, half expecting him to balk even though they'd been his suggestion.
Rollie meekly took the two tiny pills and swallowed half of the glass of juice. "Thank you, Ange. I... Sorry I'm such a bother."
"Rollie! You are not a bother." Angie gave an exasperated snort. Men! Where did they come up with ideas like that? She softened her stance as she remembered he was hurt and feeling bad already. Rollie could be such a... such a doofus at times. A lovable doofus, but a doofus. Men! Or maybe it was unique to Aussie men. Maybe she should research it sometime. It would at least cause a stir in some of the chatrooms she visited. That was okay, they needed a good row. Things had been getting kind of dull there. She waited, hoping he was ready to talk about what happened, then felt strangely sad when he leaned back and stared off into an unseen distance. Okay, guess she would have to take the lead then. "Rollie, what happened?" She picked up his right hand, squeezed it and waited, hoping.
He started a bit. "I... I was mugged. You heard Francis. Mugged." He gave a tiny laugh. "So stereotypically New York. Right? I mean, according to the rest of the country, it happens to each of us daily..."
"Rollie." Angie gave him 'the look' and he paused, taking a deep breath. "You're babbling."
"Sorry," he smiled weakly. All right, he was babbling. He could admit that, but ... He thought about those few moments and froze... No, he didn't want to...
"Rollie?" Angie squeezed his hand, feeling his tension and suddenly felt scared. "It's okay. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."
"I... " Rollie looked at her then, his eyes full of bewilderment and hurt. Why? Why? Why? The question rattled around his head, not leaving him alone, not letting up for an instant. Why?!?
Angie settled beside him on the bed, carefully hugging him again, not knowing what was wrong, but knowing that he needed it and so did she.
Rollie shivered again and leaned into the comforting feel of Angie's arms. Such a mess and he was in such a muddle. It felt so ... So good and comforting to have Angie hold him. He felt safe and, well, loved. He shivered again and Angie urged him to lay back down. With a silent sigh, knowing he wasn't making sense even to himself, Rollie settled down and closed his eyes. Ange pulled his covers up over him. He fell asleep again with Angie's gentle touch stroking his hair.
Anxious, Angie stayed beside Rollie and watched him sleep, her book forgotten. When he turned restless, she soothed him and was pleased when he stilled and settled into a deeper sleep. As time passed and the Aussie remained quietly asleep, her eyes drooped and closed. She joined Rollie in sleep, one arm wrapped carefully around his chest.
Angie Ramirez woke with a start. What? She shook her head, muddled by her dreams where Rollie wasn't Rollie and others where her friends were teasing him and she just stood aside. She blinked the sleep from her eyes and frowned, her brow puckering slightly as she thought. No, she hadn't thought Rollie was Loubar. It was like he'd been... stolen by fairies or something, like in the tales she'd been told in childhood by one of her teachers. She looked closely at her partner, his head burrowed into his pillow, still sound asleep. He looked so peaceful, even if he was still a little pale. She had better get up before he found out he was sharing his bed with her. She slid carefully from under the heavy weight of his limp arm, holding her breath and hoping he wouldn't wake up. Rollie could be a light sleeper, she'd learned that a long, long time ago, but... Between the medicine and his own exhaustion, he slept on, deeply unaware. She let her breath out in relief. Safe!
A little later, Rollie stirred and woke up. He blinked owlishly at the ceiling. He still felt tired, but he didn't think his stomach would forgive him if he didn't eat something. The thought of eating made him feel nauseous. Hunger and nausea fought with each other for dominance. He shifted and saw Angie sitting in a chair looking at him, a paperback discarded at her side. He smiled slightly. "Hi."
"Hi," Angie answered back. "How do you feel?"
"Tired, hungry and nauseous," Rollie responded truthfully.
"How can you be nauseous and hungry?"
"I don't know." The Aussie shrugged. "Ask my stomach. It's the one doing flip flops and growling at me."
Angie considered the problem. "Toast?"
Rollie nodded agreement. "Dry toast," he thought about it for a moment, "or soda crackers." He sat up and pushed the covers off. One brow went up as he noticed he was no longer wearing his pants. He gave Angie a very precise look that spoke volumes.
The blonde turned away, smothering a laugh. "I'll start the toast."
As Rollie rummaged through his chest for some sweats, he called down to her. "Do I have any ginger ale?"
Ginger ale? Angie mouthed to herself. "Uh, don't think so, boss!" Ginger ale. Okay. "Want me to get some?" She checked the toaster, making sure it was off.
"Could you?" Rollie yelled back as he sat on his bed to pull on the sweat pants.
"Sure, no problem." Angie grabbed her coat and handbag, heading out the door. She was half way to the small grocers near the loft when it dawned on her... Rollie was acting like himself again! She smiled in relief. It still didn't solve the mystery of his being in the Captain's office, but it was a major step in the right direction. Maybe all he had really need with some sleep. That nap had improved his attitude one hundred percent. She did the shopping with a lighter step. She searched the soft drinks for ginger ale, finally picking out a six bottle pack of plain ginger ale and another of lemon flavored. A stop in the cookie and cracker aisle netted her a fresh box of soda crackers. She started to buy some bread as well, then decided to get that at the bakery. Just because Rollie was going to have dry toast because he felt nauseated, didn't mean he wouldn't appreciate fresh baked bread. She quickly paid for her purchases and headed next door to the bakers.
As Angie stepped through the door and the bell tinkled, she took a deep, appreciative breath. Bakeries smell so very good! Now, if they bottled that for a perfume... Yumm... She smiled at the silly thought. "Hello, Mrs. Ruth!"
"Good day, Angie. A pleasure to see you. How have things been with you and Rollie, hm?"
Angie felt a slight blush in her cheeks. Mrs. Ruth had been trying to get her and Rollie involved since the first time she'd met the special effects artists two years ago. This was one person who wasn't accepting of the 'We're just friends' statement. She was positive that one day she and her husband would be baking a wedding cake for them. She had already found koala wedding toppers for it! The blonde cleared her throat. "Fine, well, pretty fine. Rollie was mugged today."
"Oh no! He's all right, isn't he? Such a horrible thing to happen and right here..."
Angie waved her to a halt. "No, no, it wasn't here. Actually, it was several blocks away. And Rollie's fine. He does feel a bit... sick though. I wanted to get some bread for toasting."
"Ah, toast! I have an excellent toasting bread here. It's English. Very good." The older woman bustled over to collect a loaf, still warm from the oven. "I am so glad Rollie is all right. Such a good boy! So very helpful! You could do worse, Angie!" She paused in wrapping the bread to waggle her finger at the young blonde. "Much, much worse. Rollie Tyler is a gentleman. Do you know how hard it is to find gentlemen these days?"
Wisely, Angie Ramirez kept her mouth shut, letting the woman's words wash over her. Who knew? Maybe she was right and they'd laugh about it one day. Or... Maybe she was wrong and they would still laugh about it. Angie was not ready to push the issue in any case. She did start to protest when Mrs. Ruth added a dozen sugar cookies with the bread. "Ah, Mrs. Ruth, that's not necessary..."
"Nonsense, my dear. Rollie will enjoy them. The dear boy has a sweet tooth and he doesn't indulge it very often. That's easy to tell, he's so thin! He needs some weight on those bones. No wonder he gets so cold all of the time. You'll enjoy them too. Now, that will be two dollars and eighty seven cents, Angie."
Angie sighed, stifled her protests and dug out the money. For a change, she had exact change. Some things you just didn't argue with. And Mrs. Ruth giving away cookies was one of them. "Thank you, Mrs. Ruth."
"You're welcome." She patted Angie's hand. "Tell Rollie we're thinking of him. You'll both be in our prayers tonight."
"Ah, yes," Angie managed to keep a smile on her face, "thank you." She had a feeling exactly what turn those prayers would take. Mr. Ruth agreed with his wife. "Good bye!" She hastily escaped.
Rollie was sitting in his striped leather chair, a pad of drawing paper in his lap when Angie returned. He was chewing thoughtfully on his pencil, obviously distracted.
"Hey Rol!"
"Hmm? Oh, hey, Ange, let me give you a hand with that." The Aussie winced slightly as he moved to stand up, his arm reminding him that it hurt.
"That's okay, I've got it, boss. You stay there." The blonde bustled around the downstairs kitchen area, putting away the groceries. She tossed the cold toast she had made earlier and put slices of the fresh bread into the toaster. She rummaged in the cabinets and pulled out a couple of glasses. Angie filled one with ice and placed a bottle of ginger ale beside it. She stared inside the refrigerator for a moment before pulling out the milk and pouring it in the other glass. After returning the milk to its spot, she pulled out the butter and got a butter knife. Everything was placed on a tray with two plates. As soon as the toast popped up, she added it and walked over with the tray to where Rollie was sitting. She immediately noticed that he was gnawing on his pencil again. "I think you'll enjoy this better than that pencil, Rol."
Rollie jumped slightly. He willingly discarded his pad and pencil, snagging a slice of toast. He took a bite and chewed slowly, his eyes slitting in pleasure at the taste of the fresh baked, toasted bread. "Ummmm."
Angie smiled and quickly grabbed a slice for herself. She had a feeling she would not be eating more of this batch. After carefully buttering the hot golden toast, she took a bite and smiled in appreciation. No wonder Rollie was in seventh heaven, it was delicious. She took a sip of her milk, then reached over and opened Rollie's ginger ale. The man was too content eating the bread to bother for himself at the moment. She poured it into the glass with ice and sat back to nibble on her toast. Angie waited patiently as Rollie devoured his first slice and started on his second. When he paused for a swallow of his drink, she knew it was time. "Rollie, why were you in Captain Van Duran's office?"
The man took another bite. For a moment, Angie thought he wasn't going to answer. "When the... the mugger cut my arm," he gestured toward where the bandage was peeking out from under his shirt, "I smelled explosives... on his hands."
"Explosives?" Well, that certainly explained why Van Duran was concerned. She would be - was - too. A suspected drug addict and mugger with explosives? No, that was definitely bad. He would want the man identified as quickly as possible so his people could be looking for him and hopefully find him before anything went BOOM! And his only real lead at the moment was Rollie Tyler and his memory. It was a wonder he had sent Rollie home considering the circumstances. She breathed a silent thank you that the man had realized Rollie was at the end of his rope and needed a break. It still didn't explain what had upset Rollie so much though. There was more here, something that Rollie wasn't admitting to anyone yet. Knowing she had to be careful, Angie decided to bide her time. Sooner or later, she would get her opportunity and Rollie would open up like... like a can of Chiops' cat food. In the meantime, a glance at the pad showed that Rollie's break had been worthwhile. The special effects artist had begun a sketch of a man. "Is that him?" She nodded toward it.
"Yeah," Rollie sighed, "that's him." He cocked his head to one side, looking at the sketch objectively. "It still needs some work though. It's not quite right."
"Would you rather use that police artist software?" Angie asked softly, referring to some software that Rollie had gotten at the request of his friend, Leo. Had it really been over two years since his death? She knew Rollie missed him still, so did she. On that particular day, McCarthy, fed up by the outdated software at the police department, had turned to the one person he knew who might actually get the latest version. He had been right too. To Rollie, it was one more toy to play with and he'd even found uses for it occasionally in their work. Especially after Angie had modified and improved it for him, reworking the interface into something more conducive to special effects.
Rollie shook his head. "Nah, I've almost got it now." He drank some more ginger ale, before snagging the third slice of toast. He sat back and nibbled on a crust. Once more, his mind returned to the scene of the mugging. Ruthlessly, he forced himself to concentrate on the man with the knife, ignoring other, more ... disconcerting things. He wasn't going to go there! Not now, maybe not ever, or... maybe later. For now, there was something more important to deal with, anything else would, could and should wait! Feeling the nausea rise, he took a hasty swallow of his ginger ale, forcing his reaction down.
Angie watched in concern as Rollie's appetite seemed to drain away. Damn! I should have waited, she thought to herself. Instead, her curiosity had brought whatever dark memory that was haunting the Aussie back to life. Damn! Damn! Damn! She felt like kicking herself and wondered what she could do. The lanky man gave himself a visible shake and placed the mostly uneaten slice back on the plate. He picked up the pad and went back to work on the sketch. Angie winced slightly as Rollie's arm obviously didn't appreciate being put to the task of holding the pad in place. A moment later, unable to stand it, she stood up and gently, but firmly removed the pad from Rollie's grip. It hurt watching him trying to sketch with his right hand. While Rollie was somewhat ambidextrous, he preferred his left and she considered it nothing short of amazing that he had done as well as he had with the sketch. Really, she looked over the sketch with a dispassionate eye, it was very well done for a man using the wrong hand.
Rollie looked startled as she took the pad away. "Hey! I'm not done with that!" He protested even as his right hand instinctively moved to cradle his left arm.
"Yes, you are." Angie walked over to a nearby workstation and booted it up. Rollie watched silently as she scanned in his sketch and opened it in the artist software. "Now, what did you want to do with it?"
With a soft mutter about stubborn women, Rollie walked over to stand behind her.
Angie immediately reached over to pull a nearby stool beside her. "Sit."
"I'm not a dog."
Angie felt a smile threaten to make an appearance at Rollie's softly voiced protest. She bit the inside of her lip to try and keep it under control. "Sit!" she growled.
Rollie gave a huge, put upon and very theatrical sigh. He sat. In fits and starts, they worked on the sketch until he was satisfied. The tired man rubbed his eyes. "That's it. That's him."
"I'll email it to Francis and Mira. Then you're going back to bed, boss," Angie informed the Aussie.
"If I'm the boss, then why am I getting bossed around," Rollie muttered to himself.
The blonde found herself fighting off another smile. She ignored the remark and busied herself with setting up the email.
Rollie interrupted her just as she was about to hit the send button. "Email Captain Van Duran too."
Angie twisted around to look at him in disbelief. "Van Duran? I don't have his email addy, Rol."
"I do." Rollie grinned like a Cheshire cat, pleased to have put one over on her.
"You do?" Angie blinked. "And how did you manage that?"
"He sent me a virtual get well card the last time I got hurt."
Angie sat there with her mouth hanging open. She couldn't believe it! Van Duran? Captain Marvin Van Duran had sent Rollie a virtual card?!? She hadn't believed the man even knew something so frivolous existed, never mind that he would actually send one! And to Rollie?
Rollie reached over and using one finger, gently closed Angie's mouth. "You'll catch flies that way, sweetie." He rattled off the address.
Angie added it to her address book, then added him to the To line. She hit send. "Now, bed."
"I want to eat." Rollie looked stubborn and tired.
Angie's lips thinned a bit as she frowned. "All right. I'm make some more toast and then you are going back to bed, Mister!"
"Yes ma'am!" Rollie sketched a mock salute. He hummed to himself as he followed the blonde to the kitchen area. He really was hungry again.
Rollie devoured four slices of toast and drank another glass of ginger ale before he was satisfied. Angie had just finished tucking him back in bed and turned to go downstairs. "Angie?" Rollie's soft voice called her back to his side.
"Yes, Rollie?"
"Are you going home?"
The blonde shook her head. "I'll sleep on the couch." And keep an eye on you came the unspoken part of the sentence. Rollie wouldn't appreciate it if she admitted she was hovering over him.
His right hand played with the blanket. "Plenty of room up here." He looked at her through a curtain of brown hair, gauging her reaction. "You can keep a better eye on me here." He thought he was being quite reasonable and it was why Angie was staying at the loft. "And it's more comfortable than the couch."
Angie felt a blush warm her cheeks and she took a deep breath, uncertain how to answer or even why Rollie was suggesting her staying... With him -- in the same bed.
As if he guessed her discomfort, he continued in the same soft voice. "You can sleep on top of the covers... Get a doona from the closet? It'll keep you warm enough and..." He trailed off. Perhaps he was violating the unspoken boundaries they'd place after Loubar's violation. Maybe Angie wouldn't want to be that close to him?
"I'll get the doona. Be right back." Angie headed over to Rollie's bountiful closet. He had so much stuff in here!
The Aussie breathed a silent thank you. He really didn't want to be alone and he felt safe as long as Angie was there. He was grateful that she apparently recognized his plea to not leave him alone tonight, even by the short distance of being downstairs.
Angie rummaged around. She was surprised to find she had a set of sweats in there. When had that happened? How? She finally just shrugged it off and wondered if any of Rollie's things had found its way into her closet. She doubted it, but she made a mental note to check sometime when she was home. She found the doona, the two blanket she noted, smiling as she realized she'd become that well acquainted with Rollie's odder stuff. She dumped it at the foot of his bed. Aware of Rollie's eyes watching her anxiously, she smiled at him. "I'll just change into something... more comfortable." She said it in a sultry tone, teasing.
It was Rollie's turn to blush. He watched wide-eyed as Angie disappeared into the bathroom. He grinned in relief when she reappeared dressed in sweats. He wasn't sure what he would have done if she'd shown up dressed the way her tone had implied. Probably... Probably blushed himself to death. Such a fate! He buried the stir of disappointment.
Angie settled into bed, on top of the covers. She pulled the doona up so it covered them both snugly. Her hand gently brushed the hair off of the Aussie's forehead. "Good night, Rollie."
"Good night, Angie."
"Lights off, Blue." Angie called down to the little robot dog. A bark and the lights went off.
Rollie curled on to his right side facing Angie. Recognizing his need, she curled up facing him, one arm resting on his waist. The friends fell asleep moments later, feeling warm and secure.
Angie stirred from her warm sleep, bewildered. What had awakened her? She woke further as she felt the warm length that she was spooned against. What? Who? Memory returned. Rollie? She felt his body stiffen and a shiver run through it. That must be what had reached her through her sleep. Rollie was having another nightmare. She cautiously flipped over, straining to see by the moonlight streaming in through the skylight. The Aussie was definitely dreaming, but this time, instead of the pain or fear she had expected, there was a look of anger on his face. She gently touched his hair, wondering what was making him angry. The anger slipped away from his face and he shifted again. She stroked his hair carefully. With a soft sigh, he settled, pressing his long length against her body, a look of peace appearing on his face. Puzzled, she continued stroking Rollie's hair, watching him sleep. Now, more than ever, he looked like a little boy. Even the scar on his cheek didn't detract from that innocent look. Her arm grew heavy and she yawned, snuggling up against the Aussie, sliding back into sleep.
Sunlight filled the loft when she woke next. Angie was surprised to find herself alone. She touched the pillow Rollie had slept on and felt the warmth that lingered there. So, he hadn't been up for long. She sat up, pushing the doona down. An exasperated sigh escaped her lips as she spotted Rollie sitting on the top step. He was fully dressed in black jeans and a black sweater. Somewhere or other, he'd dug out a black sling which now cradled his left arm against his body. For a brief moment, she wished that Rollie would dress in something else, something brighter. She just hoped his mood didn't match his clothes. She clambered out of bed and walked over to drop on to the step at his side. "Good morning," she said in a husky, early morning voice.
"G'morning, Ange." Rollie smiled at her. His brown eyes were bright and clear. "Sleep well?"
"Pretty good." She cleared her throat. "You?"
"Yeah," he answered, sounding surprised, "better than I expected." Rollie leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Thank you."
Angie felt herself blush slightly. "All part of the service."
"I better be the only one receiving that service." Rollie growled playfully, then froze as he realized what he had just said.
It was Angie's turn to kiss Rollie's cheek. "Don't worry, you are." She bounced up before they could tread further on to dangerous ground. "I'm hungry!"
"Me too!" Rollie slowly stood up beside her. It was obvious his arm still hurt. She was glad he'd found the sling and wondered why the doctor had released him without one.
Rollie adjusted the sling slightly. "Should've dug it out, yesterday. I told the doc I already had several." He spoke apologetically, answering Angie's unspoken question.
She glared at him, but relented at his chastened look. "You keep it on." She admonished before heading downstairs ahead of him. "When are you suppose to go back?" Better to get that information now so she could make sure he did it and couldn't claim he'd forgotten.
"I'm suppose to visit my own doctor today," came the meek reply. He knew better than to antagonize Angie currently, especially in regards to that! She was already irritated by his neglecting to find the sling yesterday. Not that he'd done much without it, but still... Best to play it safe.
"Okay, I'll call after breakfast."
"Yes ma'am."
Second time he'd said that to her. She better do something to stop it! Though... It was kind of nice having Rollie obey her orders. Still, she didn't want to be the boss. She much preferred the way it was. Less headache for her that way! "Are you still nauseous?"
"No, I feel fine." Rollie watched her pull out the ingredients for a breakfast, pleased when she pulled out more. Good! He really was hungry. He watched her crack eggs into the pan. "Why don't you go clean up and change? I'll keep an eye on the eggs." He stood up and took the spoon from her, giving them a stir as she stepped away.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, go on." He nudged her with his hip.
"All right." She headed for the steps. "Don't try to pick up that pan," Angie ordered before bounding upstairs.
"Yes ma'am!" Rollie whispered. He sighed. Angie really was getting bossy with him, treating him like he didn't have a lick of sense! He continued stirring the scrambled eggs, wondering if he could add something to them or if he should leave them plain.
The phone rang while Angie was still upstairs. "Speaker phone, Bluey!"
Blue barked an affirmative and turned it on.
"Tyler FX." Rollie called out.
"Tyler."
"Captain! Get Angie's email?"
"Yes, we did. We have some possible matches. When can you get here to check them out?"
Rollie's eyes met Angie's as she came slowly down the stairs. "Um... An hour?" She sighed, but nodded approval.
"Fine. See you then." Van Duran hung up.
"Thank you, Rollie." Angie mimicked his gruff voice.
"Now Ange..."
"Don't you now Ange, me, Rollie Tyler! The least the man could do is say thank you." Angie fumed.
Rollie grinned. "Yeah? I can just see Marvin Van Duran saying thank you. Probably as they rush us out the door or throw me in a jail cell."
Angie laughed and shooed Rollie away from their breakfast and he sat down at the table. She efficiently finished cooking the eggs and making toast. Shortly, they were both absorbed in eating, Rollie virtually inhaling everything Angie placed in front of him. She was pleased by this sign of his improved health. "I'll make an appointment for you this afternoon." Angie stood up to call Rollie's doctor.
Rollie wanted to protest, but knew better. "Okay. We should be done before then."
"We, kemosabe?"
"We, Angie Ramirez. I know you wouldn't be able to stay away. You're as curious as Chiops! Besides, this way you can make sure I keep that appointment."
Angie grinned, smugly pleased. "When the man's right, he's right." She quickly dialed the familiar number.
Angie parked the large FX van with easy efficiency. A couple of uniformed officers applauded in appreciation of her driving skills. She laughed and made a little bow as she climbed out of the van.
Watching them, Rollie grinned at the antics. "Maybe we should charge admission. Might make a tidy bit on the side."
"Ha ha," Angie mocked as she fell into step with the taller man. He lead the way inside. Bypassing the elevators, they took the stairs up. The minute Rollie appeared in the doors leading into the squad room, two figures converged on him.
Mira Sanchez started fussing immediately. "We can't leave you alone for a minute, can we, Tyler?"
"Sanchez," Van Duran growled softly and the detective's spine stiffened. She almost saluted as he swept Rollie, with Angie in tow, into his office. He punched a button on his phone and said gruffly. "He's here."
Two minutes later, Lieutenant Pete Stone of E.S.U. arrived looking very serious. Angie was a bit surprised to see him, then remembered the explosives. Emergency Services took care of a lot of things, explosives, the normal realm of a bomb squad and even SWAT duties. This seemed especially true if things overlapped. Of course, he would be concerned about a mugger with explosives. He placed a couple of large books of mug shots on the Captain's desk, then sat on the couch beside Angie to watch silently. Neither man said anything, they just waited. As Angie watched anxiously, Rollie began slowly leafing through the first book. She felt tense and out of sorts and wondered why. Remembering Rollie's nightmares and aberrant behavior, she began to realize why Captain Van Duran had not commented on her presence. She wanted to jump up and hug the Aussie, to stay next to him, but she knew that would not be tolerated by either police official. She was there for moral support, not to interfere. The next hour dragged by. Neither Van Duran or Stone fidgeted, but Angie felt like she was going to explode herself if something didn't happen soon. Maybe she could go get some coffee. She spotted the coffee maker to one side and silently eliminated that option. Maybe she should just go to the ladies room. She felt torn in two. Part of her wanted to move, to get out of that office and do something. The other part didn't want to budge from Rollie Tyler's side. She jumped as Rollie shattered the stifling silence.
"Angie?"
"Yeah, Rol?"
"Would you mind getting me some water, luv?"
Instantly, Angie was on her feet. "Sure, boss."
"Bottled, please."
"You got it!" Angie immediately left the Captain's office. She knew she spent too much time at the precinct when she found she knew where the nearest vending machines with bottled water in them were located on that floor. She chewed on her lip as she checked for the change for the vending machine. Damn! The smallest thing she had was a five. She'd need some change. Change would be two floors down. Oh yes! She definitely spent too much time here. Of course, Rollie spent more. He could have probably told her exactly how much money the water would take, what candies and snacks were to be found on what floor and a whole lot more besides.
"Problem, Ms. Ramirez?"
Angie turned to find herself looking at a uniformed cop who looked to be about the same age as Van Duran. Yes, she needed to stay away more than she had. "I just need change. I know where to go get it."
The man chuckled softly. "That's okay. What did you want? The water?"
Angie nodded and watched in shock as the officer pulled out a large handful of change. He paid for the water and handed it to her.
"Anything else, ma'am?"
"Uh, no, no thank you." She started to head back, but turned around again. She just had to ask. "Excuse me, how did you know what I wanted?"
"You came here with Tyler a little over a hour ago. Right?"
Angie nodded confirmation.
"Tyler invariably gets the water when he's been stuck here for more than a hour."
"Oh," Angie didn't know what to think or say about Rollie being that predictable to an absolute stranger.
As if he could read her mind, the officer continued as he selected a bag of peanuts. "Don't worry about it. Tyler saved my little brother. He's a cop too, Broadway Precinct. I like to keep an eye on my friends." His look told her clearly that she was included in that category, a friend by association. "Are you sure you don't want anything for yourself?"
Angie gaped slightly, then decided why not. She needed something to occupy her attention while she waited. "Um, how about a pop?"
"What type? Coca Cola?"
"Sure. They got any diet?"
"Diet? You're kidding me, right? You don't need diet."
"Maybe that's why I want it." Angie grinned. She was surprised to find herself enjoying their exchange.
"Uh uh. Yeah, riiiight. One diet cola, ma'am." He handed her the ice cold can.
"My name's Angie." The blonde told him as she headed back to the detective bullpen and Van Duran's office.
"Yeah, yeah." He waved his hand at her. "I hear you and Tyler is Rollie. Go on, get out of here before he decides to come hunting for you."
Angie opened Rollie's water and put it on the desk, in easy reach. She sat down on the couch next to Stone again and popped open her canned drink. While she'd been gone, Van Duran had left for some reason. She took a sip and tried to watch patiently as Rollie absentmindedly swallowed some water. He flipped past the last page, closed that book and opened the second one. The blonde looked away and caught a glimpse of Mira craning her neck to look into the Captain's office. The Latino detective's curiosity was obvious and it took Francis three tries to attract her attention back to whatever they were working on. Sorry, nothing exciting happening here, Angie thought silently. She shifted and looked out the window. That was real interesting, considering it showed the wall of the next building. Her thoughts drifted and she let them slip away from where they were and what they were doing.
"Here," Rollie spoke, breaking the heavy silence.
Angie jumped, pulling her scattered thoughts back in.
Stone was immediately up and by Tyler's side, looking at the picture. He made a note of the number and turned to the Captain's P.C., expertly entering it.
Rollie rolled his chair back, giving the lieutenant more room. He rubbed his eyes one handed, tired from staring at the mug shots. He snagged the empty bottle and tossed it into the Captain's trash.
"Good work, Tyler," Stone said as he read something on the screen, nodding to himself. He picked up the phone and punched in a number. "Got it. Get ready to roll."
"Can we come?" Rollie asked curiously. He figured they'd earned the right, but wasn't sure if the police would agree.
Stone turned to stare at Rollie, then Angie. "Sure, why not. But you stay out of the way."
"Yes sir!" Rollie sketched a mock salute with his right hand and stood up, stretching. Truthfully, he was surprised Stone had agreed. He knew it was only because they had been a help in the past.
"Sanchez, Gatti, come on!" Stone called as he walked rapidly through the bull pen, Rollie and Angie trailing hard on his tail. Startled, the two detectives scrambled to follow.
The E.S.U. van pulled to a stop in an alley. Angie caught a glimpse of a row of rundown brownstones. Several of them were abandoned, or, she thought they were. It looked like they'd been left for squatters and the homeless, their owners either didn't have time or maybe they didn't have the money to worry about them. They watched silently as the unit expertly suited up, checking the fit of their bulletproof vests. It was all so quiet, Angie thought to herself. She held her breath, waiting as the squad walked down the street. People faded as they noticed the police. A few moments later, a call came over the radio and Mira and Frank left.
"Stay here," Mira barked.
Angie almost growled back, but seeing Rollie settled comfortably against the side of the van, his long legs stretched out, she shifted to the bench on his side. She looked at him curiously. This wasn't like the Aussie, he normally wanted to be in the thick of things, even when it was dangerous.
"Almost over, sweetie," Rollie smiled at her, his eyes closed, "and I won't miss my doctor's appointment."
The blonde gaped at her partner in surprise. "That's it? Aren't you wondering what's going on?"
"We'll know soon enough." He turned to look at her, his eyes blinking open. "Aren't you glad? I'm finally learning to stay out of the way."
"Uh uh, this isn't like you, Rollie. What's going on?" Angie looked at him with anxious, blue eyes. Her worry was clearly visible, a tangible presence.
"Maybe I'm just getting this particular lesson through my hard head," Rollie snapped at her. He immediately regretted his response and looked away. Taking a deep breath, the Aussie looked back at his best friend. "Sorry, Angie. That was uncalled for. I didn't mean it." Angie stared at Rollie. The longer she was quiet, the more ashamed the tall man became about his remark. Unable to stand it any more, he flushed and looked down at his feet. All of a sudden, he felt like a large, clumsy, ungrateful prat. Angie put up with a lot for him. He almost never said thank you and it seemed he almost always took her presence for granted. He didn't know what to say or do. Sorry didn't seem like enough and he didn't want to seem like he was trying to 'buy' her forgiveness by getting her something. What could he do? What could he say? He jumped at the warm touch of Angie's hand on his.
"It's all right, Rollie," Angie was saying through the roar of embarrassment in his head. "I know you didn't."
"Damn it, Ange! It's not all right! I shouldn't treat you like that! You deserve better."
"Rollie, it's been a rough couple of days. You've been on edge. I know you didn't mean anything by it." A warm hand gently touched his chin, turning his head so he was looking at her. "It really is all right," Angie said seriously, then a mischievous spark touched her eyes, "but if it makes you feel better, you can buy me dinner. My pick!"
Rollie blinked and stared at her. A tentative smile touched his lips, then the tension in his body poured out and he relaxed, letting his head fall back to rest on the side wall of the van. "Deal!" Rollie grinned at Angie. "But I get to pick desert!"
"Done and done!" Angie grinned back at Rollie, very happy to see the spark back in his eyes. She hesitated, not sure what else to say.
"I don't want to make Stone mad at me. Besides what would I do, except gawk?" Rollie smiled ruefully. "I never did like gawkers, Ange."
"Neither did I. All right, what do we do while we wait?"
"Play Twenty Questions?" Rollie answered, trying to hide his grin.
Angie made a pretense of giving the suggestion serious consideration. "No way, boss. You already ask too many questions!" She chuckled at the look that appeared on the lanky Aussie's face. "Any other ideas?"
Rollie looked at her, his head tilted to one side. She could almost see the gears turning inside his head as he really thought about the question. Before he could answer, Rodney Davidson, the newest member of the Emergency Services Unit, opened the driver's door. He immediately grabbed the mike to the radio and began rattling off various call numbers and requests to the dispatcher for a uniformed unit there and to send more elsewhere.
Rollie and Angie watched, silently waiting. When Davidson hung up the microphone, Rollie immediately spoke up, asking the questions both FX artists were thinking. "Did you get him?"
"Yeah, we got him. Easy pickings, Tyler."
"Then it's over," Rollie smiled in relief.
Davidson hesitated and they both tensed, their worries rising once more. "Not exactly. He planted a bomb. The Phantasy Children's Theater."
Angie paled at the thought of a bomb in a children's theater. How could anyone do something like that? She glanced over at Rollie and froze. A deep anger was rising in his eyes and face, his body tensing. She shivered at the thought of that fury being focused on her, but shook it off. Rollie could never be that angry with her. "Rollie?"
"I want to help," the words were low, soft, belaying the anger that trembled through his lanky body.
"Not my place to say, sir," Davidson responded. He didn't understand the relationship that existed between the precinct and this man. He had heard some of the stories, the legends, but he didn't know how much was truth and how much was b-s to tease the 'newbie'.
Angie wrapped a hand around Rollie's wrist, keeping him in place.
"I'll ask the boss." Yes, that was the right thing to do. Let Stone deal with it, with him... With them.
The Aussie nodded once. "You do that."
"Rollie? Are you sure about this?"
"Yes," for a moment he seemed about to pull away, then turned to face her, "I'm sure, Ange. Kids! How could he do that? Why?!?" He looked deep into the blonde's eyes.
She watched the fury fade away to be replace by anxiety, worry and bewilderment. Emotions that she knew he found echoed in her own blue eyes. "What do we do?"
"Whatever we can," Rollie pledged.
Stone climbed aboard, the rest of his squad following. The driver started the big van and they pulled away. Pete Stone turned to look at the special effects experts, his eyes examining them critically. "Why should I let you help?" 'What can you do' was the unspoken question.
"We can help you find the explosives," Rollie offered. His voice was low.
Something in the Aussie's eyes made Stone's eyes soften. "I know you want to help and I know you're good, Tyler, but..."
"But it's dangerous and it's not our job. Except I am an expert with explosives." Rollie stared back calmly, his brown eyes shining.
"Ramirez?" Pete turned to the woman, hoping for a little more sense.
Angie looked over at Rollie, then her head came up and her back straightened. "I'm in."
Stone threw up his hands. "All right." He sighed as he shook his head. "I suppose you want some supplies?"
"It would be nice to get some stuff off the van, Rollie." Angie tilted her head as she regarded her shocked partner. She hid a smile. Never in a million years had he expected her to back him up on this one. Well, maybe it was time some things changed!
"Yeah. We have some equipment that might help."
"All right, but be quick. We don't have much time." As Stone spoke, the E.S.U. vehicle pulled to a halt and Stone piled out, sprinting for the truck that held Big Blue, the robot Rollie had built for the unit to disarm bombs. He'd incorporated a lot of the techniques he'd used with Blue in making the larger robot, hence the name. One thing the unit didn't have was Bluey's artificial intelligence. It was controlled by, of all things, a remote computer game controller. Rollie had told the lieutenant when he asked about it that it was because of its familiarity. The unit had more than paid for itself, especially since Rollie had only charged actual cost, not even including a charge for the long hours he put in building it.
Rollie jumped out, followed by Angie. They ran for the FX van, swiftly rummaging through the various shelves and drawers for the equipment they thought they might need. Angie tossed Rollie's black FX jacket to him, then pulled on her own. The jackets would help them blend in with the police working the theater. She just hoped that the media didn't figure out who they were. Rollie discarded his sling to pull on the jacket. She watched as he hid his longer hair under Leo's black New York Yankee cap. She snugged her black FX cap on her own head. By adding sunglasses, they both looked remarkably like the E.S.U. officers. The FX crew jumped out of their van to find the E.S.U. vehicle idling right beside them. They scrambled inside, only to be handed vests that had ESU emblazoned on them in big yellow letters. Shrugging the vests on, they looked at each other. Angie exchanged a grin with Rollie as they both realized they now looked just like everyone else in the vehicle.
Sharp eyes caught sight of the media set up in the crowd gathered around the theater. Rollie dismissed them, knowing that neither he nor Angie were identifiable now. There would be no stories about a crime fighting SPFX crew in the news today. Stone expertly divided his squad into groups of two to search the building. The children had already been evacuated, anxious teachers and chaperones making headcounts to verify they had all of their charges. One young teacher turned even paler and hurried to a uniform officer's side, reporting two eight year old girls missing. Classmates reported that the two friends had gone to the restroom right before the police had arrived. He soothed the teacher as best he could as he collected the information about where her class had been sitting. He swiftly passed the information over to Stone. The man's face was stoic as he scanned his unit plus two. "Ramirez, they were in the third tier of the balcony, see if you can find them and get them out of there."
"Yes sir," Angie snapped, sketching a slight salute. She knew better than to argue. Gathering up her huge shadow with a glance, they headed inside. She had been paired with a big African American who looked like he should have been on the offensive line for a major league football team.
"Do you know the way?"
The blonde was pleased to find that he had a gentle baritone voice. While he looked dangerous, that honey sweet voice would attract any female to him like bees to honey, even young ones. "Yeah, we've worked here before." She smiled slightly as she remembered how much fun Rollie had creating the effects for what had probably been the most elaborate puppet shows ever put on in the whole world. The experiment had been a roaring success with kids and parents alike, but were unlikely to be repeated since the producers hadn't made a profit. That elaborate perfection had come at a high price.
The Aussie felt a sharp pang of worry as he watched his blonde partner enter the theater. Her big companion might be able to handle most threats but he wouldn't be any good if the bomb did go off while they were in there. He shook it off as he took in his own temporary partner. Stone had paired him with, of all people, the squad member who had broken his leg using the descender during training. Tyler wondered if it had been a deliberate move on the police lieutenant's part and if Proust felt any resentment from that event. As they received their assignment, he lead the way to the doors and turned to the left where the maintenance stairs were located. They were heading for the basement along with Stone and his partner.
Proust eyed the special effects expert thoughtfully. "You've been here before."
"Yeah, we worked for a set of shows here one time. Beyond The Horizons Of Space."
"Hey, I saw that one!"
"You did?" Rollie looked at him in surprise in the dim lighting of the stairwell.
"Yeah. I got roped into taking my sister's kids to it. I was surprised. It was really great! Why don't they do more like it?"
Rollie shrugged. "They didn't make a profit off the shows, just barely broke even." He sighed. "I liked it too. That was a fun gig."
"Too bad." The officer followed silently for a second. "Would you do again? I mean if you were asked."
"Sure, like I said it was fun. Of course, it would have to fit in with our schedule."
"How about for charity? Would you do a free one?" Proust probed the lanky Australian.
"Maybe. It would really depend on the charity and the timing. Why?"
"I'll explain later," the officer told him as they came to the basement and he became all business. Proust trailed the special effects expert as he checked his equipment and began searching in all the places a bomb might go. In a regular building there were a lot of places to hide one, places only an expert would think to check. In a theater multiply it by a hundred. Proust watched in admiration as the Aussie began to look in places he didn't even know existed.
Rollie kept glancing at his PDA. He'd activated a specialized program and sensor. One that he'd developed with Angie's help. It detected when an electronic detonater was live. A real time saver in their work on more than one occasion, he was using it now to look for the mugger's bomb. Of course, the bomb might not have an electronic detonater, but then again, it might. Since the Aussie didn't know, he also made sure to search visually and to stay alert for odd sounds or smells. He was peripherally aware of Stone and his partner searching another part of the basement. He knew why they were the ones down here. A big enough bomb in the basement could take down the whole building. He couldn't help wondering though - Why a children's theater? Why here?
Proust was making his own search and silently wishing for a dog trained to sniff out bombs. That had become a dream of his to become the handler of such an animal. He'd made the proposal to Stone who'd suggested that he transfer to the regular bomb squad where they already had the specially trained animals attached from the K-9 services. However, Proust didn't want to transfer from E.S.U. and had tried to convince the lieutenant that a dog would be useful to them too. His superior had nodded and said he would take it under advisement which meant he might have forgotten about it as soon as Proust left his office or he might actually do something about it. It had been impossible for Richard Proust to tell. A trained dog would be really useful right now. Too bad they were all at that high rise office building where a bomb threat had been reported at the moment. Dispatch had promised a team would be sent as soon as they could. Yeah, right! The muckity mucks in charge were more concerned about the well heeled owner and the high price businesses in that building than they were about a small theater. After all, they paid lots of taxes and made or could make lots of campaign donations. Somehow he didn't think one would be freed up anytime soon. He jumped as Stone's radio beeped.
"Stone," barked the lieutenant as he flipped the send on, then off. He listened intently to the words from the other end. He cursed and flipped over to send. "How bad?"
How bad what? Proust paused, his hand resting on a large cardboard box. He exchanged glances with his civilian partner who looked as puzzled and worried as he was.
"Roger that. Advise all units of the situation and to be extra careful." Stone glanced at his partner and the other team. "We have a small problem, gentlemen. It seems he wasn't content with leaving a bomb. He also left some booby-traps."
"Booby-traps? Was someone hurt?" Rollie immediately thought of Angie and prayed she was safe.
"One officer is down. He took shrapnel in both legs." He grimaced and continued. "Our bomber is sicker than we thought. The booby-traps are designed to kill little kids. So be careful and look low first." His gaze passed over the special effects expert. He dismissed the thought to get him and his partner out of there. It wasn't like they would go anyway. "Ramirez is fine, Tyler. Okay people, let's get back to business. The clock is ticking."
Rollie heaved a mental sigh of relief. He nodded to Proust and they returned to their search. Progress was slow, too slow, thought Rollie. They needed to work smarter if they were going to find the bomb before it detonated. But how? The special effects expert thought hard even as he continued to scour his portion of the basement.
Angie Ramirez moved surely through to the balcony. Her shadow followed closely. Sharp eyes checked corners, looking for any signs of the wayward students. They opened doors, checking each possible hiding place. Where would I go? Angie thought to herself. They'd gone to the restroom according to the other pupils, but they checked the closest ones without any luck. A brief smile flitted across Angie's face. If it was Rollie, he'd want a closer look at the puppets. She paused. Well, why not? They weren't having any luck with the restrooms!
Her large shadow followed patiently, willing to take his lead from the blonde. They'd started down the stairs, heading for the backstage area when they heard sobbing. Exchanging concerned glances, they broke into a run, following the sound. The pair skidded to a halt at an open doorway. One little girl stood there, frozen absolutely still. Her companion was bawling her eyes out.
Large brown, almond shaped eyes, far older than her eight years, looked up at the blonde and the cop. "There's a wire." She pointed calmly at the taut line stretched across the doorway and against her legs.
Angie's eyes widened at the implications. A quick check and Officer Thompson was shaking his head. "It's a booby trap all right. Don't move, honey."
"I won't," the little girl promised sturdily. "Please get Lisa out of here." Her eyes shifted from adult to little girl as she made the plea.
The large cop reached over to pick up Lisa, but she backed away, screaming.
Angie chewed her lower lip. She checked the wire, then, very carefully, stepped over it. "Lisa, it's all right. We're with the police. We'll take you back to your teacher." She prayed the light brown haired girl would listen. Hysteria definitely were not a help at the moment. "Come on." She squatted and held her arms open, praying that she would listen and come to her.
"Lisa, listen to the nice lady," the eight year old sounded faintly exasperated.
"Angie, my name's Angie."
"But--but--but Mary!" Lisa wailed.
"You've got to go with Angie, Lisa," Mary told her friend, seriously. "Go on. You'll be fine."
Lisa took an uncertain step forward. Angie scooped the frightened child up into her arms, swiftly passing her over the wire to her large shadow.
"What about Mary?" Lisa hiccuped. She turned her tear streaked face up to look at the big policeman.
Angie was closely examining the trap attached to the tripwire. It appeared to be a pressure trip. If Mary moved, reducing the pressure on the wire, it would go off. How to get the little girl out of there?
"Don't worry, Lisa, I'll be fine," Mary proclaimed stoutly.
Looking into those brown eyes, Angie was suddenly reminded of her partner. Mary was terrified, but determined to protect her friend any way she had to. "Any ideas, Bob?"
The E.S.U. officer shrugged, feeling helpless. This shouldn't happen to children, especially little children, not even preternaturally calm, little Oriental girls. If it had been him, he would probably be shaking like a leaf. He wondered where an eight year old learned that much calm and about the existence of trip wires.
Rollie shook his head. They were going about this all wrong. The mugger couldn't care less about the building. Given the booby traps and how they were placed, he cared about one thing - hurting kids. He would want his bomb or bombs to cause the most damage to them, not the building. And that meant... The Aussie looked around and moved to one of the ladders leading to the trap doors at center stage.
Proust trailed along, his expression puzzled as Tyler climbed up the ladder. "What are you doing, Tyler?"
"I want to check something," Rollie responded as he pushed up the trap door slowly. Not finding any wires, he pushed it all the way open and stuck his head through. "Bloody Hell."
"What is it?" Proust looked up at the Aussie.
"Get Stone. Now!" Rollie watched the officer pull his radio out, then climbed out of the trap door. He felt tired. Drained. He didn't know whether he wanted to curse or cry.
Pete Stone stuck his head through the trap. "What is it, Tyler?"
Rollie pointed.
Stone looked and started uttering some truly colorful expletives. "Proust! Call everybody and tell them to get out of the building." He looked at the civilian. "That means you too, Tyler." He pulled himself up on to the stage and pointed down the ladder.
"What are you going to do?" Rollie asked.
"Try to disarm the bomb." Pete stared at the large, complicated bomb Tyler had found. The bomb had been strategically placed between the stage and orchestra pit. No one working the puppets would see it, because of the curtains hiding the puppeteers. No one in the orchestra would see because it was behind them, hidden by the drapery. He examined it more closely. It looked like it was set to explode out toward the audience, but with the amount of explosives... Stone shook his head. The timer was steadily ticking down. He wondered if it wouldn't be better to just cut their losses, evacuate the building and let it explode. Then he remembered the two girls Ramirez and Thompson were looking for. "Any word on the girls?"
Rollie shrugged. He opened communications to his partner. "Angie? Any luck?"
"Well, Rol, that depends on how you define luck."
"Have you found the girls yet?"
"Yeaaah."
"Why do I hear a 'but' in there?"
"One of them has tripped a booby trap. If she moves, it goes off."
Rollie inhaled sharply. "That's a pretty big 'but'. Um, Angie?"
"Why do I have a feeling you have more bad news?"
"We found the bomb."
"And?"
"It's going to explode in fifteen minutes."
Rollie, Mary, Lisa and Bob listened in fascination as Angie cut loose with some truly colorful Cuban phrases that she'd learned from her father. Rollie, remembering the times Manny had used them, winced. "Um, Angie?"
"Yeah, Rol?"
"You want me to come see what I can do about..."
Angie examined the trip wire with an experienced eye. Rollie might be the most proficient member of their partnership when it came to explosives, but she was Manny Ramirez's daughter. "Too much pressure - boom, too little pressure - boom. Right?"
"Yep, that sounds about right," the Aussie confirmed.
The blonde eyed their surroundings. "I've got an idea. You help Stone." Angie turned to her shadow. "How about getting Lisa out of here?"
Thompson stiffened. "We're suppose to stay together."
"Yeah," Angie agreed as she looked pointedly at the little girl in the big man's arms.
The cop sighed, knowing he was losing this one. "We'll be at the stairs. All right?"
"Good enough," the beautiful blonde answered. 'I hope', she finished silently. She turned her attention to Mary. "Are you as ready to get out of here as I am?"
"Yes", the little girl responded solemnly, "perhaps you..."
"Hang in there just another minute, Mary. Then we'll blow this popstand." Angie winked, perfectly aware of the horrid pun she had just made.
Mary watched wide eyed as the pretty lady cop moved surely to a heavy wooden chair standing nearby in the hallway. Angie grunted softly as she realized just how heavy the chair was. It was solid, made from a heavy hard wood. Using muscles developed from manhandling heavy equipment cases, the SPFX artist soon had the chair on the floor a few inches from the tripwire trapping Mary. "Ready?"
Not quite understanding, the girl nodded slowly.
Rollie glanced over to where Stone was checking out the bomb. "Why don't you use Big Blue?"
The lieutenant looked over his shoulder at Tyler. "You still here? How do you propose we get him in here?" His hands indicated the aisles that were far too narrow for the large robot.
Rollie grinned cheekily. "If you bring him round back to the double doors leading to the backstage area, I'll show you." Despite their rocky start, the Aussie had no desire to see the gruff cop blown to bits. Much better to use Big Blue for what he was designed for. 'You better be out of here soon, Ange', he thought silently to his partner as he led Proust under the stage again. As a puzzled Pete Stone decided to trust the SPFX expert and went to fetch the bomb disposal robot, Rollie started to shift some of the boxes that were in the way of the path from the outside double doors and another set obscured by props and shadows. He winced as his arm screamed pain, reminding him of his injuries.
Richard Proust was quick to step forward. He still didn't know what they were doing, but he wasn't about to let Rollie do it by himself, especially wounded. "Let me do that. You're the brain, I'm the brawn. What do you need?"
Amused by the declaration, Rollie waved his right arm toward the boxes and props in the way of the path they needed. "We've got to get this junk out of the way."
"Gotcha." A quick call on the walkie talkie had several more members of ESU there, helping to shift everything out of the path Rollie had indicated.
Rollie stepped back and watched, cradling his left arm against his body. Some of those props were going to be hard to move. He looked around and smiled as he spotted what he was looking for. Turning on the electric hand forklift, he guided it over to Proust. "Think you can handle this, Brawn?" His brown eyes sparkled with laughter.
Proust looked at the equipment with relief. He'd been worried about a couple of bulkier pieces. "Piece of cake. I worked in my uncle's warehouse when I was in high school." He accepted the handle from the Aussie and expertly maneuvered it to a large prop that was blocking the way. Using the equipment and teamwork, the squad soon had the way cleared.
Stone appeared at the back doors, Big Blue right behind him. "Now what Tyler?"
The lanky man kicked the chalks from under a ramp that rested on one side. Proust immediately leaped forward to help him guide it to the interior doors. Getting it into position, the two men locked the brakes in place. Rollie opened the doors and waved Stone to send Big Blue toward him. Proust peeked inside and grinned widely. Grumbling slightly, Pete guided the robot up the ramp and through the double doors. As he came nearer, he grinned too. "Nice! An elevator."
"They use it to move scenery and props. It should do just fine for Big Blue here." Rollie patted the bomb disposal robot fondly.
"Clear the area, people. Times a-wasting." Stone waited impatiently while Rollie pushed the buttons to open the trap doors in the stage and raise the elevator. "You too, Tyler." He followed the SPFX man to the outside doors, his eyes glued to the small digital screen that showed what was in front of the robot.
"You've been practicing," Rollie accused the older man.
Pete Stone shrugged. "My kid drags me down to the arcade every weekend for at least an hour on one of the games. Real picky about the games we play too. It's always the ones that match ol' Blue's controls and moves." He looked torn between amusement and embarrassment at the confession.
"Cool", Rollie laughed.
"Any word from Ramirez?" Stone asked to distract the other man from his expertise.
The Aussie shrugged, worry, hidden by the bantering, rising to the fore again. "Ange?"
Angie eyed the distance between the chair legs and the wire. She would have to get this exactly right. She pulled her PDA out and activated a program. A few quick taps had it set for measuring distance between objects. She set the alarm to sound when the distance was one hundredth of a centimeter, then placed it so it was facing the wire and chair legs. "Okay. It's show time," Angie muttered to herself. Slowly, cautiously, she moved the chair forward, painfully aware that they didn't have a lot of time, but equally aware that if she didn't get it exactly right, that time wouldn't matter. Her PDA beeped and she caught her breath, easing the chair one more fraction. She froze and pulled away, gabbing her PDA and shoving it in a pocket. "Ready, Mary?"
Mary, her eyes huge, nodded. She was more than ready!
"Let me do the work, okay?"
"Okay, Angie."
The blonde took a deep breath. She breathed a silent prayer and scooped Mary up in her arms, leaping away from the tripwire. Nothing happened. Angie and Mary looked back. "Let's get out of here!" Angie declared.
Mary nodded agreement. Angie hurried to join Bob and Lisa at the stairs.
"Glad you could join us," Bob said with a relieved smile.
"Mary!" Lisa squealed happily.
"I'm fine, Lisa, thanks to Angie." Mary spoke solemnly.
Angie Ramirez blushed. "We have to get out of here. We don't have much time."
The adults hurried down the stairs, carrying their charges. The blonde heard Rollie say her name, sounding very worried. "On our way, Rol," she murmured in her microphone.
"They're coming," Rollie told Stone and the others.
"Good," Stone answered, most of his attention focused on Big Blue's controls.
A moment later, Angie and Thompson ran out of the building. They took the two girls over to their worried teacher. Mary hugged Angie tightly before letting go. The blonde turned around, looking for her partner. Spotting him, she jogged over to join him. "How's it going?"
Rollie shrugged and hid a wince as his arm throbbed. The partners stood quietly, not wanting to break Stone's concentration. Angie was vaguely aware of the civilians being urged out of the area. She looked up and saw Mary and Lisa climbing on a school bus. She hoped they were gone before the countdown ended. She didn't want them to see the theater if the bomb exploded. Her attention turned to the building. The blonde remembered how much fun they'd had working here. She smiled slightly as she remembered the laughter and excitement.
Rollie glanced at his watch, there wasn't much time left. Had he found it in time? He fretted over the time lost to searching and moving things out of the way. He wanted children to come here and enjoy the theater. Could they after this? Would their parents let them come after this? He wondered how he would feel about it if he had children. He slipped his arm around Angie's waist. Soon...
Angie felt Rollie's strong arm wrapping around her and leaned slightly against him. She looked up into serious brown eyes. So open, so deep. His solemn expression reminded her of a little boy, seriously intent on doing something important to him. Part of her wondered if his children would have those eyes. Normally she stopped such thoughts before they could go very far. Today, she gave them free rein. In her mind's eye, she saw their children. One of each--at least that many. A little girl with a head full of soft brown curls and big brown eyes just like her father. With a mischievous twinkle, she'll make us both laugh and bring light into her daddy's eyes. A little boy with hair like his father... No, a little boy with hair like my father's, but he will have his father's eyes too. She really wanted them to have those wonderful, warm, deep brown eyes... The blonde smothered a laugh. Yeah. Right. At least he's not treating me like a fragile figurine that will break if he breathes hard or sneezes. Baby steps, she reminded herself of an earlier vow, one step and one day at a time. Whatever will be, will be. Still...
"I think that's it," Pete breathed, breaking into Angie's train of thoughts.
Their attentions focused on the screen in Stone's hands which showed the countdown at less than a minute. Everyone held their breath, waiting, waiting...
7...
6...
5...
4...
3...
2...
1...
....
Everyone smiled at the blessed silence. "You did it," Rollie whispered then laughed. He slapped Stone on the back and raised his voice. "You did it!"
"Yeah, I did," Stone grinned as everyone exchanged relieved congratulations, "WE did." He allowed his group a moment's relief, before calling them back to the situation at hand. "All right, everybody! We still have work to do. We have to move that explosive and finish searching the building. There are probably more booby traps lying around." He nodded in satisfaction as his crew immediately settled down. "Tyler. You and Ramirez have done enough. Why don't you take off? We can handle it from here."
Rollie exchanged a look with Angie. "We'd rather stay." The blonde nodded an affirmative.
"All right. Why don't you and Ramirez take Thompson and Proust and see about disassembling that bomb. Can you handle that?"
"Sure, no worries," the Aussie immediately responded.
"Good enough. We'll check the rest of the building. All right, buddy up and move out!" Stone led his unit plus two back into the building
Angie gently pushed Rollie toward the stairs. "Go to bed, Rol. It's been a long day."
For a moment, the Aussie considered protesting, but decided to give in. When she was right, she was right. Today had been a long day and he was tired. Still... "You too, sweetie. Pleasant dreams."
"You too, Rollie," Angie whispered after his retreating back. She considered following him, but he was doing so much better than before that she decided not. Yawning, she made up the couch for a bed and laid down. Both of them were too tired to consider eating. Fortunately, Stone had ordered pizza part way through the day's work and made sure everyone ate plenty, including Rollie and Angie. It had been very satisfying helping Mary and, later, assisting the police unit dismantling the bomb and booby traps. Was this why Rollie was always willing to volunteer? She'd have to think about it, but another day. Her eyes slid shut with the warm feeling of a job well done.
Angie looked up from her workstation in the clean room at Rollie's stiff tones. The normally friendly Aussie was withdrawing into himself. She peeked downstairs to see who he was talking with. Her brow puckered in bewilderment. Carlton Trevor was a director they had worked with before. While not really a friend, both jobs had been good experiences. The blonde thought that her partner liked the man, but he certainly wasn't acting like it now. Steve Ransom was an assistant director, young, talented, a casual friend. Why was Rollie acting like he didn't want to be in the same room with them? Her mind flashing back to this past winter and the last time that Rollie had acted strangely, she eavesdropped shamelessly.
"I'm sorry, Carl. We just can't do it." Rollie spoke carefully.
"Are you sure, Rollie? We could delay the shoot. You'd be a real asset to the movie." Trevor sounded both disappointed and somewhat bewildered.
Rollie shrugged. "We're committed to that puppet show for the police widows' and children's benefit fund raiser and we still have work to do on our last movie with a couple of more projects waiting. I don't see how we can do it."
Rollie, Angie noted to herself, was pointedly not looking at Steve. And she didn't remember hearing the A.D. speaking before. In fact, he seemed downright nervous. Peculiar and more peculiar. She knew that they had some clear weeks in their schedule where they could probably work on another movie, but her boss obviously wasn't inclined to mention them. Why?
"All right. I guess we'll have to go with second best. Maybe next time?"
"Yeah. Maybe the timing will be better." Rollie smiled stiffly and escorted the two men out the door. He closed it behind them and leaned against it, a look of relief and regret on his face.
"Rollie?" Angie looked down at her boss, partner and friend. Her tone was bewildered and curious.
"Uh... You heard?"
"Yeah." She waited, almost holding her breath.
"I couldn't do it. I can't work with Ransom right now. Not after..." His head dropped and his shoulders drooped.
"After what? Rollie?"
Rollie pushed away from the door and walked to the steps. Angie came down to join him. Her blue eyes anxiously examining his face. "Let's sit down." He curved one hand around her elbow, escorting her to the nearest couch.
"Rollie?"
"Angie, before I tell you anything, you have to promise me that you won't do anything," Rollie spoke firmly.
"What?!" Angie looked shocked, then her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What's going on, Rollie Tyler? Why should I promise anything?" She started to glare, more than a little suspicious. "What did Ransom do?"
"Promise me." Angie hissed slightly, sounding more than a little like a frustrated Chiops, Rollie thought to himself. "I won't tell you anything until you promise, Ange."
Angie stared at the Aussie, wheels turning in her mind. If she didn't promise, she wouldn't find out what was up with Ransom. If she did promise, she wouldn't be able to get him for what he'd done. She was now absolutely certain that the man had done something to anger Rollie and if he was angry, then why was he protecting Steve Ransom? She ran her hands through her hair, messing the blonde strands. "All right! I give up. I promise. What did he do?"
Rollie shifted and sat back, feeling uneasy. "Well... It's more of what he didn't do."
"Huh?"
"He... He saw me get mugged."
"Yeah? So he didn't run over and help you? Rollie, not everybody is willing to jump right into a life threatening situation." Angie responded, bewildered by Rollie's hostility. He was usually more understanding. "Not that I'm happy about that, but still, it's no reason to give up a paying job."
"I know that!" Rollie jumped to his feet and started pacing. "I don't expect everyone to be as... as stupid as I am about jumping in without thinking, Angie. I do have that much brains!" He stopped and took a deep breath. "Angie, nobody called the police."
Angie blinked as the answer slowly sank into her.
Rollie decided to finish it off and get it over with. "Steve Ransom was talking on his cell phone, he saw me getting mugged. I know he did. He looked me right in the eyes. He recognized me. And... Nobody. Called. The. Police."
Angie felt her temper rising. She could understand not running to the rescue, but a phone call would be so easy to make. Especially with a cell phone in your hands. Why hadn't he called? "I..." It was Angie's turn to jump up and start pacing. Everything was starting to make sense. She thought about how she would feel if a friend saw her attacked and didn't make that single, simple step. No wonder Rollie had been so subdued. She was surprised he hadn't been furious and gone to pound Ransom's face. She wanted to pound his face! "Are you sure I can't...?" She licked her lips and her eyes gleamed.
"No." Rollie shook his head, feeling a sudden surge of warmth. It was nice to have someone care that much, but... "No, Angie, you will not do anything to his bank accounts, his apartment lease or any of the million other things you can do with a computer. You will leave Steve Ransom alone. I survived and I'll get over it." He wrapped his hands around her shoulders, a smile tugging at his lips. "You do know we'll probably work with him again. Can you do that, Angie?"
Angie's face closed as she thought about it, the Ramirez temper roaring. She looked up into deep brown eyes.
"For me?" Rollie asked. "I... We can't work with him right now, but one day..." He shrugged. "We can't avoid him forever. And he may be on that dream job, you know? We will work with him again. Just not right now."
"All right." Angie sighed. A wicked smile curved her lips. "But you may have to wait awhile for me to 'get over it' like you are."
"I can wait, Ange."
"It won't be long. Just the next millennium." Angie squealed as Rollie reacted to her comment and pounced on her, tickling her sides. She swiftly retaliated and the two friends were soon lying on the floor, side by side and breathless.
Rollie took a deep breath, struggling to control his laughter. He stilled and lay there, staring at the ceiling. "You know, I feel sorry for Steve."
Angie looked at him blankly, not understanding.
"We can get over it, Angie. We can move on and we will, but he... He has to live with it. Every time he looks in the mirror."
Angie felt a little overwhelmed by the depth of compassion possessed by the man at her side. "He'll remember and know..." The blonde shivered as she thought about it. Maybe she wouldn't break her promise to Rollie. Steve Ransom's conscience might very well berate him for the rest of his life.
"And good things did come out of it all. We saved those kids. If you hadn't rescued Mary, we wouldn't have met her granfather."
Angie thought about that memorable meeting at the precinct. They'd dropped by to invite Francis and Mira to lunch. Mary arrived with a large, fit, elderly man in tow. She'd made a beeline for Angie, telling her Pawpaw all about how the pretty police lady had saved her and Lisa. It was obvious he had heard the story many times since that fateful day. Blushing, Angie had tried to explain that she wasn't a police officer. While she'd been telling Mary how they'd come to be there and what they did, Rollie had been talking to her grandfather. They found out that part of Mary's attitude and a lot of her knowledge came from the older man who had served in Viet Nam, working with explosives. Her grandmother had died shortly after giving birth to her father, killed by one of the multitudes of booby traps set by the Cong during the conflict. Hearing her grandfather correctly identify Rollie's Australian accent, she'd been requesting (Politely!) for a promised trip to Australia and maybe, just maybe, if her parents agreed, they would finally go to Viet Nam as well.
"He's a good friend. That whole family is. It's good to make friends, Ange." Rollie continued thoughtfully. "We've had a lot of good friends, Rick, Leo... Frank, Mira, Lucinda. Even Stone and Van Duran in their own way make good friends." He turned to look at Angie's profile. "And you. You're my best friend, Angela Ramirez. I couldn't make it without you. I wouldn't want to."
Angie felt lightheaded as the warm, deep depths of his eyes, full of sincerity and love, captured hers, her vision filled by their intensity. Her normal flip response about him going out of business in a week without her hovered on her lips, but something about the moment reached down into her and pulled at something deep inside. Angie Ramirez turned to her side, wrapped an arm around Rollie's chest and whispered, "I love you, mate."