Chapter Text
It wasn’t long before Clarke got her hearing back.
She should have listened to her partner in hindsight, as the being so close to the gun shot now seemed like an incredibly dumb idea. But what was a girl to do when some idiot drug addict tried to flee out the window? Well, apparently in the brilliant mind of one Clarke Griffin, she was to tackle him to the ground and wrestle the gun out of his hand. Despite her much more intelligent partner yelling for her to stand down from the other room.
So now she lie on the ground, her hands grasping at her ears and her vision blurring in and out. Assessing the situation for a moment, she figured she might have gotten a serious concussion from the elbow she’d caught to the temple and her hearing was definitely going to be shot for a couple more hours at least.
“Griff-”
She groaned as she felt something shoving at her shoulder, and her head began to throb as the noise around her began to filter back in.
“Griffin!”
Turning on her side she came face to face with her training officer.
“Blak-?”
“Get up!”
In typical training officer fashion, her not-so-saviour glared at her one last time before fleeing the room, most likely in pursuit of her assailant.
“Right…” she mumbled to herself, pushing herself up off the ground. A quick check over to make sure her gun was still holstered and all her bits and pieces were intact, she was out the door following the other officer down the flights of stairs.
“So I heard you got beat up by a fifteen year old boy today.”
Clarke glowered at the intruder, her best friend and co-worker Raven Reyes. She and Raven had gone to the academy together, alongside Jasper and Monty and had become rookies on the force about a month ago. Raven had always been what Monty liked to call “the independent woman” of the group, but what really meant the only one of the four of them with a real social life. Though they hadn’t lived together since the academy, Clarke frequently played sober buddy after one of Raven’s nights out and offered shelter on her living room couch.
“All in a good day’s work,” she bit back sarcastically.
“Aww, don’t be like that.” Raven slumped down in the office chair beside Clarke and slid next to her. Clarke had pretty much been benched after her poor decision with the kid that morning and was now in charge of tracking down Peter James, who the kid had claimed to have sold him the drugs but as far as Clarke could find didn’t exist. “At least you finally got to fight someone your own size.”
“Ha ha,” she drawled, flicking her mouse back and forth on the page. “You know what, I’m so sick of this. Didn’t they train us to make gut decisions? To trust our instincts? Well guess what: sometimes instincts are wrong. Why not help us learn from our mistakes instead of beating us down every time and sticking us to the desk.”
She clicked through another page of known offenders, looking for any Peter who lived in the area and was around the age the kid had given them.
“I think beating us down is their way of helping us learn from our mistakes,” Raven said matter-of-factly, swiveling in her chair. “Have you seen Detective Wick today?”
Clarke stopped momentarily to raise an eyebrow at her friend, chuckling slightly.
“What?” she asked, but even she couldn’t hold her laugh back and rolled her eyes instead. “Yeah okay, I know.”
“What’s with us and detectives, huh? Never thought we’d have the same type, but hey.”
Raven laughed and shook her head. “Detective Collins is nothing like Kyle, thank you very much. Their similarities end at their titles.”
The two laughed together and eventually Raven was called back onto the streets by Officer Miller and Clarke went back to searching through the database. She tried everything she could think of, trying to see if perhaps James was his middle name or even just looking for anyone with the last name James that matched the description. But no luck. For a split moment she wondered if maybe the guy didn’t have a record at all, and maybe all of this was useless.
In a stroke of genius - or fit of boredom maybe - she thought to switch the names, looking up James Peter instead. The first picture that popped up matched exactly the description, with the snake neck tattoo and everything. How dumb, she thought to herself. What kind of street alias is just your own name backwards?
But no matter how stupid, or how obvious, Clarke was so excited to have figured it out she almost forgot to print out a copy of the perp’s information before she ran into the interrogation room to announce her findings.
“Blake,” she said sharply, print out now in hand and leaning through the door to the interrogation room and motioning with a nod.
He furrowed his eyebrows in question of the interruption, but as she widened her eyes to show that he really needed to come talk to her, he rolled his eyes and pushed away from the metal table.
“Sit tight,” he told the kid before following her outside.
As they stood on the other side of the one way glass, Officer Blake crossed his arms over one another and looked her over.
“What have you got?”
Ignoring his bored expression, she flipped open the file and passed it to him.
“I found the dealer,” she said, nearly bouncing on her heels now. “His name wasn’t Peter James, see? It’s his street alias, I guess.” Bellamy snorted and she smiled for a split second, glad he also saw the stupidity. The moment passed quickly. “Anyways, he’s got two B&Es and a possession charge on record, but nothing major. Guns and gangs have been looking into him for a connection with the Jameson crew, but nothing’s come up.”
“So what you mean to say, is you have nothing.”
She smiled. She’d hoped he was going to say that.
“That’s not it,” she said confidently, the excitement bubbling now. “Someone called in just two days ago about a noise complaint from his apartment. Something about loud bangs and yelling.”
He looked up from the file then, as it clicked.
“No one’s followed up on the complaint yet?”
She smiled.
“It’s been a busy week.”
Bellamy Blake was a mystery to everyone - save maybe Officer Miller - at fifteen. Stoic and reserved, the officer didn’t spend all too much time being friendly. With anyone, especially not the group of rookies. Clarke had been particularly lucky to get to know him quite intimately in her first week when she’d accidentally arrested him while he was undercover and subsequently ruined his 8 month operation. Not only had she had to endure the relentless teasing of the rest of the division, but she’d also had to accept that she was now Officer Blake’s least favourite person in the whole squad. But if that wasn’t enough, the Chief had been oh-so kind as to pair the overzealous rookie with the still very bitter Blake, as rookie and TO. Just perfect.
From then on, their rides had been more like funeral marches than patrols and their conversations limited to who was going to pick up the radio and what the proper procedure was for a speeding ticket. And after she’d made the absolutely terrible choice of mentioning to Chief Kane how she felt she might learn more from a different training officer, she’d then had to endure a whole new side of Bellamy Blake. What had been an awkward but manageable silent treatment, had now been completely reversed to bring out an Officer Blake who expected Clarke to know the manual inside and out and tested her whenever he could.
So between the random recitings of the Canadian Charter of Rights and trying to guess solutions to famous cold cases on coffee breaks, Clarke was constantly looking forward to the days where she got to ride with the much more sensible and pleasant Officer Miller. But as it seemed, Clarke and Bellamy actually made decent partners and their success was enough for the Chief to keep them paired indefinitely.
“Did you hear me?”
She snapped out of her reverie and turned her head to Blake, his eyes glued to the road ahead of him.
“No, sorry. I was…”
“Yeah, whatever,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he turned onto Dundas. “I asked if you wanted to take the lead on this.”
Clarke couldn’t help but narrow her eyes at this, not really believing the Officer Blake she knew would actually suggest this.
“Don’t look so surprised, princess. You did find the guy after all.” She turned back to look out the window to hide her smile, not wanting to look too eager in front of him. “And if you’re wrong, I’m not about to take the credit for busting the guy.”
She rolled her eyes at this and directed her eyes back out the windshield. They were pulling up to the building, which appeared to only be one level with the condos set side by side. Bellamy parked the squad a few clicks away as to not spook the guy too early and the two of them stepped out of the car to approach the building.
According to the file, James Peter lived alone in number 13, at the end of the condos but still sandwiched between two neighbours. The building itself looked akin to a dealer’s standards, Clarke thought as they approached the worn, purplish-coloured door.
As they came up to the door Bellamy nodded to her to proceed and she grimaced just slightly. Sliding up beside the door, she knocked three times.
“Mr. Peter? This is the police. We’d like to speak to you.”
There was no reply at first but a bit of shuffling behind the door. Bellamy motioned that he would circle around the building to make sure he didn’t crawl through a window while Clarke knocked again.
“Mr. Peter? This is the police. Please open the door.”
Briefly, she remembered something her mother once told her. Always check to see if the door’s open first, she’d say, you never know when it’ll be your lucky day.
With that in mind, Clarke reached out a hand to open the door slowly, but before she could turn the handle, she was thrown back as a brown-haired man blurred by her, shoving her aside and causing her to slam into the wall of the building.
As she regained her balance she saw the man running across the parking lot, and this time her instincts caught in for the better.
“Hey!” she yelled after him as she chased. “Stop!”
It appeared this time, however, that even though he wasn’t quite her size she was definitely faster than him. Within seconds she’d caught up enough to grab hold of the back of his shirt and yank him down onto the cement. After a little maneuvering, she managed to flip him onto his front and grab his right arm.
“Hey! Stop,” she said fiercely, shoving his right arm down as she clamped the handcuffs around his wrist before pulling down his other arm.
As she hauled the now secured James Peter into a standing position, she finally saw a semi-breathless Blake run up to them.
“You caught him,” he breathed in slight shock, though the look disappeared almost as soon as it came. “Good work, Griffin.”
“Yeah well,” she said, pushing her perp towards the squad car. “He ran, so…”
Clarke just barely caught it, but she could have sworn Bellamy smiled at that before opening the back door for her to shove the guy in.
“Right,” said Bellamy. “He ran.”
She gave in and smiled a bit herself as she took the passenger seat, finally feeling like more of a cop and less of a rookie.
“Not half bad, Griffin.”
Clarke smiled at Miller, about the tenth person now from the division who’d come up to congratulate her on not being the screw up for once. While a minor achievement, she wasn’t about to give up the chance to feel appreciated.
“Thanks,” she said as she grabbed her beers and retreated back to their table near the pool table. She laid the drinks down in front of Monty and Jasper and slumped back in her seat.
“So how does it feel to be a success?” asked Monty, chewing on a toothpick as he smiled at her across the table.
“Yeah how is it?” asked Jasper, slinging an arm over her shoulder. “Please inform us lowly folk out here. Is there a secret club? Did they teach you the hand shake?”
She raised her middle finger and the boys boo’ed and cawed before giving up and moving on to the next conversation.
“Ever think we might just fit in here?”
Raven leaned over the table, her eyes fixed on the bar. Clarke followed her eyes and grinned when she saw where the girl’s eyes fell: the two detectives nursing a glass of scotch each. Finn smiled at something Wick said and tapped his glass against his, laughter filtering through the bar’s music. Though they hadn’t done anything as of yet, Clarke, like Raven, was in the early phases of full-on giddy crush and she didn’t really mind if it didn’t go anywhere. She was a rookie after all, didn’t they all have crushes on the detectives?
“Yeah.” She replied, taking a long sip of her beer. “Sometimes I do.”
Raven giggled and stood from her seat, winking before making her way over to the bar where she drew Wick’s attention away from his drink. Clarke almost got up and joined her, but a sight of someone familiar ducking out of the Penny stopped her. Slapping down a ten dollar bill on the table, she grabbed her coat and followed him outside.
“Hey! Blake!”
She half ran across the parking lot to catch up with his retreating back, the keys to his truck dangling from his fingers. He stopped and as she got closer he turned on his heel, and grimaced at the sight of her.
“Hey,” she said, smiling despite his less than happy demeanor. Whether it was the pints of beer or just the adrenaline from a good day, Clarke found herself walking closer to him so there were only a few feet between them. “Can I ask you a question?”
Bellamy backed up and looked to the side as if someone might be watching. “Sure,” he said, rubbing the back on his neck.
She paused, but didn’t take her eyes away from him.
“What’ll happen to the kid?”
At first it was if he didn’t know what she was talking about, but it seemed to click after a moment.
“Uh- he’ll get charged with possession and assaulting an officer. But he’ll only get community service. For helping us today.”
She nodded and stepped closer again, this time he didn’t back away.
“Right,” she said, softer now. “That makes sense.”
“Mmmm,” he said, his eyes skipping between her eyes and lips.
In almost a trance of sorts, Clarke leaned forward just slightly and closed her eyes. They were closer than she thought in that moment than she’d ever to been to anyone, even though she knew that wasn’t true. The air bit cold at the back of her neck but the proximity to Bellamy’s warmth was enough to draw her in closer. She knew this was the moment, they were going to kiss and she thought right then that was what she wanted more than anything in the world, even if it might have seemed obsurd two minutes ago.
Then suddenly she could feel his breath on her lips and his hand gripping at her jacket, and although every cell in her body screamed against her, she placed her hands on his chest and pushed just slightly.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed. “I can’t. I just started here - well, I mean, I’m a rookie - you’re my training officer -” She opened her eyes now and tried to decipher what was going on in his head. “- I really love my job,” she finished, a little lamely.
He grimaced that half smile again and stepped backwards, leaving her to catch her balance again. He pressed his lips together and bowed his head for a second.
“Right.” He nodded to himself and chuckled for a half second. “Right, well. You’re not my type anyways, princess.”
And with that he backed away towards the door of his truck and jumped in the driver’s seat. Clarke watched as he started the engine and backed out of the parking lot, all the while not looking at her once.
“Right,” she said softly to no one.