Chapter Text
“How bad was it?”
Stephen Valdez heaves a suffering exhale and shifts pressure away from his most-bruised sections in search of what tiny pinprick of comfort might be found; between his body (which feels like it’s been beaten nine ways to Hell) and this damned chair which feels like a concrete slab against his nether-regions, it’s a lost cause. “Three dead. Two still in the hospital. And I’m bruised in places I didn’t even know I had.”
The man on the other side of stained Plexiglass shakes his head and leans back. “Let me guess…Marx is riding your ass.”
“Not sure I’ve got much of one left.”
Dominic snorts, “I’ll refrain from making a full examination.” His face looks worn and pale, with only one hour of sunlight permitted every day, but the humor of this moment (however ill-placed) seems to lighten the heavy lines around his mouth. It feels like days long-since-past: late hours spent around the bullpen, the renowned veteran detective and the then-novice beat cop swapping stories and exchanging well-earned advice.
The circumstances have changed, but the dynamic remains. It is, strangely enough, a comfort.
“Tell me you at least got the bastards.” Dominic continues; there’s a stern gleam in his eyes and it’s easy enough for Stephen to forget, even briefly, there isn’t a badge strapped to the man’s waist.
“Few of them didn’t make it.” Stephen answers; in the interests of confidentiality and an open investigation, he can’t actually talk about rumors around the precinct of vigilantes at work. “The rest are rounded up, including their mountain of a leader; judge has ‘em on a no-bond hold.”
“Good.” A pause, then – in a much softer tone – “And Celine?”
“Wasn’t involved.” Stephen says, with enough vehemence to communicate honesty. “She showed up after the fact; kept my head from falling off both shoulders.” The younger man’s lips quirk a bit in a smirk, “Then showed up at the hospital to rip Marx a new one.”
Dominic grins, and finally the weary lines of imprisonment fade to the complexion of years since-past: when the bullets in his gun were fired only in the name of Justice, and his heart hadn’t abandoned the dream of happy endings.