We wake to the sound of someone pounding at the front door.

I am draped half off the bed and she is curled up on top of me, one leg lifted and stretched and the toes twitching as her conscious mind is gradually jerked back to reality; I know the instant her eyes open, not only because the lashes flutter across the back of my neck but because I feel her stiffen as she takes in her surroundings and realizes where she is and in whose bed.

I grab the hand that’s being quickly jerked back from across my shoulders and roll to my back as I thread my fingers through hers. I’m relieved to see the recognition switch on in her eyes and feel her sag against me in relief.

“Shit, I thought~~” she whispers and I nod that she doesn’t need to finish it.

“But you’re not. And she isn’t. But I am,” and I smack her lightly on the lips and wink as I half fall off the monstrosity of a bed and jerk my head towards the noise.

“I’ll buy you a new Harley if that isn’t your faithful dog, Senorita Lassie.”

“Hey,” she says, trying to be angry and failing, ending up grinning and whacking me with a pillow as I pull on a shirt~~deliberately choosing hers~~and trot down the stairs.

She’s close behind, snatching up jeans she practically leaps into and shouldering into my shirt before realizing it isn’t hers.

“Hey, you’ve got my~~” she calls down, tousled head appearing at the top of the spiral staircase and I spin and grin at her so that she stops, laughing.

“You are such a shit,” she yells down to me, sounding quite happy about it as I punch in the code and throw the door open.

Magda is of course on the other side, stiff as a poker, even her curls bouncing and glinting in disapproval and indignation. She sweeps me with a regal look from head to toe, grimacing as she recognizes the shirt and I see her nostrils flare as she takes in the sex smells I absolutely reek of.

I put a hand high up on the door frame and thrust a hip out jauntily.

“Hey, Ramirez,” I say casually, smiling and she stomps past me, whacking at my upraised arm so it’s cut out from under me, then winging me in the ribs with an elbow as she strides past. I stifle the grunt of pain, but not the laugh.

“Jinny?” she yells furiously and then sees her where she’s frantically trying to navigate the treacherous stairs with one leg in her jeans and the other bare clear up.

She turns and gives me the evil eye and I grin back.

The tiny peeved foot is already doing the Ramirez version of the River Dance before Jinny has hopped, skidded and slid downstairs. She finally gives up with about three steps to go and yanks the jeans off, hissing, “fuck it!” and tossing them down in front of her.

They almost land on Magda’s head and I see the brief flash of grin before Jinny ducks it into her shoulder, hiding it.

“And good morning to you too, partner,” she says cheerfully, bounding down the last few steps and flashing me a rather cheeky smile. My shirt’s not quite long enough on her so it’s a rather cheeky smile in more ways than one.

“Uh huh,” Magda snaps. “Good morning me after you read the headline.”

I watch Jinny go a ghastly white as all the ramifications of what could be there on that front page rock through her. Her steps slow but I see her shoulders go up and straighten; it’s the Firing Squad again and she’s going in with her head up.

She’s actually reaching for it when I slide in between and grab it first and receive a furious little snort from Magda.

“What the fuck are you thinking?” I hiss at her furiously and spin away so Jinny can’t see whatever it is.

“Ex-cuse me?” she spits back, cocking her head and slamming that hand on a hip in fury. “You think you need to protect my partner from me? “ One small brown hand flashes out and snatches the paper back from me in righteous indignation before triumphantly unfolding it and sticking it in my face with a rather evil smirk.

In what looks like foot tall letters I read:

“Daughter of Senator Chandler Assaulted; Rep. Chandler Demands Investigation into Texas Officer”.

And to my no doubt pole-axed face she snaps, “Like I’d have come up here with anything that would hurt Jin.”

Jinny reaches past me for the newspaper, capturing it easily.

“You’ve got some thinking to do maybe Mags,” she says, her voice low and when Magda jerks her gaze off me to Jinny she adds, “About what might or might not hurt me.”

I’m as stunned as Magda when Jinny deliberately turns her back to her and says to me, “Let me read it first; then you. “

My stomach is rolling too much for me to entirely appreciate the moment. Magda’s dazed eyes stay wide open and unblinking and on Jinny as Jin loosely grabs my wrist and tugs me towards the kitchen.

“We’ll need coffee,” she says soothingly, still reading, a small dent of concentration between her brows, voice rather vague and distracted. “Whatever it says we’ll need coffee to deal with it. “

“Coffee with heroin,” I snort and she huffs a small laugh, then casually over her shoulder calls back, “C’mon Mags. I’ll make enough for all three of us.”

It’s a sort of peace offering and I glance curiously back to see if Magda’s going to take it.

She hesitates, obviously furious and unable to decide which of us she’s pissed at most. I’m too surprised by Jinny’s loyalty and the clearness of the message to even gloat over it and it might be that look on my face saying, ‘Hey, I’m as shocked as you’ that decides her.

“One cup,” she says firmly. “And for Christ’s sake, put some underwear on. Jeez.”

 

“Daughter of Senator Chandler Assaulted; Rep. Chandler Demands Investigation into Texas Officer”.

By J. Krayg
Crossroads Press Writer

May 31, 2002, 05:36 AM EDT
SAN FRANCISCO -- Sylvie Chandler, twenty seven year old daughter of California Republican Representative Max Chandler was rushed by ambulance to UCSF’s emergency room last night after suffering an apparent seizure while in police custody after a drug related arrest.
    Rep. Chandler, whose private life was well publicized after the suicide of his wife little more than a year ago, relayed to reporters that his daughter’s condition is listed as stable although SF EMT coordinator Michael Callahan indicated medics arriving on the scene reported Ms. Chandler received CPR prior to transport.
        “I’m grateful to the paramedics and the medical staff at UCSF and feel confident Sylvie will make a swift and complete recovery. I’m outraged at the callous treatment of my daughter and demand an investigation into the background of the Texas officer who made the arrest.”
        Captain Kaitlyn McCafferty, supervisor of the SF division where Ms. Chandler was held and booked on a charge of felony controlled substance and two charges of assault on a peace officer, advised reporters that arresting officer Cooper Finn is a Sergeant employed by the Texas Dept of Public Safety and in San Francisco as part of a multi-state inter-agency agreement.
        “Sgt. Finn has been conducting an investigation in alliance and with the full cooperation of SFPD.” Capt. McCafferty told reporters. “SFPD has every confidence the arrest was made according to procedure and Ms. Chandler was in no way harmed or mistreated. We believe the toxicology reports will show the seizure and resulting cardiac arrest was due to Ms. Chandler’s unfortunate consumption of several controlled substances in near lethal amounts.”
        Rep. Chandler refused to comment regarding the toxicology reports stating, “No reports of that nature have been made available to me at this time and still would not explain the battered condition of my daughter. And to claim she assaulted two armed police officers is preposterous. I demand an investigation not only into this arrest and my daughter’s injuries but also as to why this same officer used SFPD funding to bail a petty thief out of jail on a legitimate arrest earlier the same day.”
        Sgt. Finn was unavailable for comment and attempts to reach the Public Information Officer for the Texas Dept of Public Safety were unsuccessful at press time.

© 2002 The Crossroads Press

---

"SFPD funding?’” Jinny repeats, striving to not sound incredulous.

I’m too restless to sit so I’ve paced the perimeter ten or twelve times as she reads it aloud. I grimace and nod.

“Uh huh,” Magda says smugly, earning a pointed look from her partner. She lifts her hands and shrugs. “Hey, I’m just the messenger.”

Jinny chooses to grace this with no more than slightly lifted brows before repeating to me yet again, “’SFPD funding?’”

“Massey,” I say lamely. “I used some of the cash he gave me.”

“And Chandler got hold of this how?” she muses.

I shake my head and Magda shrugs again. “Don’t look at me.”

“Well, other than that it’s not too bad.” She lays the paper down and pads barefoot (and bare assed) to the coffee machine for a re-fill. “And he’s got to say most of that. Not like he can say, Sylvie’s a fuck up from way back and its cost me thousands keeping her happy ass out of jail all this time, I sure wish that cop had stayed in Texas.”

My steps slow, listening to her; there’s an odd note in her voice and I watch as she shakes her head over her second cup. There’s a little rush of laughter as she does so but it’s hard-edged and laced with something sounding a great deal like bitterness.

I glance at Magda and she of course hasn’t missed it either. She’s studying Jinny, arms crossed over her chest, mouth twisted to one side as she gnaws her lower lip in thought before sliding her eyes to meet mine.

I expect some jibe; some deft little verbal dagger thrust. I wait for it, eyeing her but after several seconds of silence she merely blinks and shoves herself away from the black marble counter top, grinning.

“Well, cute as you are with your little white ass flashing there mija, I think you better get some pants on before we pull Dunbar back in. “

“Oh Christ,” Jinny says, lifting her lip in disgust. “Dunbar. There’s not enough Vodka in the world to make that look good.”

“Yeah, well, you were looking pretty tasty to him the other day.” White teeth flash in a bigger grin and she grabs a dish towel off the counter top and pops Jinny’s flank with it, then skips out of reach laughing as Jinny yelps and whirls.

“And I saw you working it for him.”

“Bullshit,” Jinny says, laughing. “Me? Working it for Dunbar?” She takes a sip of coffee and smiles smugly. “I bet we get a confession today.”

“We’ll get more than a confession if you’re planning on talking to him with your hoohoo hanging out, girlfriend.”

“My hoohoo? Mags, did you actually just use the word hoohoo? We got to get you out of the kindergarten more often, that’s just pathetic.”

I smile, listening to the good-natured exchange of banter and nod when Jinny tells us both she’ll take a quick shower. I get a quick skim of a kiss across the lips which Magda pointedly chooses to not watch and I’m not surprised when she lingers in the kitchen after Jinny leaves the room.

I empty six packets of Splenda into my coffee waiting on her to come out with whatever it is she’s going to whack me with, then finally sigh and just turn and look at her, waiting.

“You’re wondering what that look was, right? That little sigh and the head shake and the laugh that was more of a groan?”

“You know,” I say, sliding out a drawer and removing a spoon, “whether I was wondering or not you’re dying to tell me, so hey, what the fuck. Go for it.”

She takes a few steps towards me and crosses her arms again, swaying slightly as she gazes at me silently. She’s forsworn the traditional black leather; Magda’s jacket is an odd shade of pea soup and peridot, but it suits her, picks out the green in her dark hazel eyes.

“See, I know Jinny better than anyone. I think sometimes maybe I know her better than she knows herself. She’s all about rescue, Jinny.”

“Rescue,” I repeat flatly, knowing exactly where this is going but powerless to stop it because I know she’s right and it makes no difference how small or insignificant that makes what has happened between us seem.

“Yeah. Rescue. You know it; you see it. There are three basic kinds of people who go into law enforcement.”

She takes a step away from me, towards the center of the kitchen, feet slow before she spins and lifts a hand, raising a single, slim brown finger.

“You got your rigid disciplinarian types who go in out of fear because they can’t handle the idea of a world without rules, the idea of a society where people can actually make decisions or choices for themselves. They have this thing inside that tells them, shit~~ If I ever got the chance I’d go crazy, I’m capable of anything and I know it and I have to make sure everyone else minds the rules too, because a world without rules is a place of insanity and chaos.”

She lifts her brows waiting for me to acknowledge her words and I stonily wait her out, not blinking. She grins a little as if she expected nothing else, then spins in a slow circle as she speaks.

“Then you got the ones who look at life as a chess game and want to win. They look down and they figure out the next move and they see that the way to control the game is to be the one making the rules about how the next game gets played… They’re canny and smooth and they slide in so fast nobody even knows what’s happening, ‘til they’ve lost. They don’t give a shit what happens to anyone else in the game; they just want to win and the best way to win is to be the one making and enforcing the rules of the games because hey~~ If you make the rules… ?” She cocks her head at me and grins as she see-saws one hand in mid-air. “Sound familiar, Finn? Sound like anyone you might have seen in the mirror?

“And then,” she says, jamming both hands in the slanted pockets of her pea soup and peridot jacket and spinning away again, contemplating the ceiling, “you got the ones who go in because they have to. Something happened to them, something that hurt them and they can’t bear the thought that anyone else can hurt like that, hurt that bad.” She shrugs. “If they hurt, that’s fine, they can take it; but they make it their mission in life to take on everyone’s burden, everyone’s cross, they bleed and bleed and bleed out and no matter what they do or how much they give, it’s never enough because they can never shake that feeling that the bad thing that happened? They deserved it and they have to pay and pay and pay. That’s Jinny.

“And you?” she points a finger at me and then drops it in dismissal. “That is what you are to her; another penance, another rescue, another chance to bleed out for someone else. You are no different than Sylvie; fuck, you’re no different than her mother. And that smile you saw? That grim little laugh? That was because she’s paying, Finn. That was Jinny doling out a little flesh and blood because you made the arrest she should have made; that was her lifting her chin to let you take a tender little slice. And she’ll keep letting you. She’ll let you until you have enough and walk away. And people like you always get enough and walk away.

“But you know what? She’ll get through it. Just like she got through her mother, just like she got through Sylvie. And me?” She jams a finger into her own chest and thumps it, hard. “I don’t walk. I’ll be right here. And I’ll make sure my partner is okay because I never slack up and I never walk away.”

She’s crossed the room again and stopped less than a foot from me, staring at me without blinking. I hold the look and we glare at one another in stone faced silence and neither of us blink or look away until we hear Jinny’s boot heels rap on the hard wood floor of the small hall between the living room and the kitchen area.

Then I half turn towards my coffee and glance down at my hand where Sylvie’s silver pattern has embedded itself into the palm and Magda hums something quick and brief and cheerful as she does a little dance step towards the doorway.

“Ready, partner?” Jinny asks brightly as she ducks in. Her hair is wet and slaps lightly against the leather of her jacket as she drops the weight of it down her back.

I don’t miss the casually triumphant glance Magda tosses me at the word “partner” so soon repeated aloud and this time in Jinny’s own voice.

“Ooooh, you sound almost eager to see ol’ Dunbar,” Magda teases, punching a shoulder and Jinny grins and winks.

“I’m hoping he’s got a wife, actually. Aren’t we interviewing him at home this time?”

I trail them to the door, feeling jagged bits of me float loose from the cuts Magda made, reaching for them blindly and praying there’s something good, something real in myself to stick them to once they’re gone.

It’s work but she’s distracted and it’s not until the three of us have reached the door that she realizes I have hung back, kept quiet.

She pauses, looking back at me, head to the side and smiling slightly.

“We okay?” she asks, sounding honestly puzzled, eyes soft and confused, everything about her so prepared to be wounded. God help me, I see her lift her chin to sacrifice up that tender spot and I swallow and nod.

“We’re good.” My voice breaks and I clear my throat roughly and repeat it, stronger, refusing to look at Magda.

“A little privacy, Mags,” Jinny says over one shoulder and Magda rolls her eyes, then slides them off to the side contemplating air in flinty silence, waiting.

She kisses me; pulling me into her and I lean and because so much of me was unraveled in Magda’s merciless revelation, I give up far more than tongue and lips. I feel her stiffen against me and then melt and there’s a hushed moment of breathing and hands before she pulls back and stares down at me, half smiling, half bewildered.

“Coop, I’m just going to work. I’ll be back. This isn’t Pearl Harbor or anything.”

I grab the belt loops at her waist and pull her to me for another kiss.

“Be back.”

I don’t mean it to sound so urgent, so weighty and loaded. I don’t mean my voice to break either, but it does and she blinks, understanding immediately and lifts both arms to wrap around me and pulls me into her and rocks me slightly.

“I will. I will be back.”

I blink the tears back but they slide out anyway. I glance once at Magda who is staring at me and I half lift a hand to swipe at them, but then think; fuck it.

I earned these. Let them fall.

I stand in the hallway outside the open door of the penthouse and Jinny holds me and Magda clears her throat and busies herself punching aimlessly at the elevator button, hands at her hips, face turned from us. She turns quick and looks at Jinny when the doors glide open and Jinny squeezes me and kisses my forehead before entering it.

Magda steps in after her and the doors are shutting when the question slams into my brain and I throw a hand out, leaning to stop them, letting them bump and bounce back against my fingers.

“Ramirez.” I say and her face tilts slightly in question, waiting.

“Ever had the balls to wonder which one you are?”

She blinks and I see Jinny turning to look at her, frowning slightly, curious as the doors slide shut on her stunned expression.

It’s very small compensation, but fuck, I’ll take it.


END OF FORTY