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Sonny Crockett stood in front of Martin Castillo's desk, fingertips resting against the edge as he leaned in. His displeased expression left nothing to the imagination, but his boss wouldn't have expected anything less.
"Why didn't you call me?!" Sonny demanded.
The Lieutenant remained placid in the face of Sonny's emotional outburst, as always. "You were out of contact on the boat."
"Yeah, but you coulda called the Coast Guard, and they could have…"
"There was nothing you could do," Castillo interjected in a tone that brooked no argument. "It would have been over by the time you got back, anyway."
"Yeah, but…" Sonny continued, unwilling to admit defeat yet.
"You came to me with your concerns about Rico's faith in Jake Manning before you left, and I took action the moment I knew something was wrong."
"I should have talked him out of going before I left!" The guilt was going to stay with him for a long time. He'd add it to the rest of his collection.
Castillo gazed at his detective levelly. "Do you really believe you could have talked Ricardo out of anything he'd made up his mind to do?"
Sonny spun around, running fingers through his hair in exasperation. He didn't bother to answer; they both knew the question was rhetorical. His partner's willingness to put himself in harm's way had been a point of contention between them more than once. He still had nightmares about the time Rico had offered himself up to go undercover inside a prison to bring down dirty guards.
Rico had wanted to believe Jake Manning was what he'd presented himself as: a reformed criminal who'd turned over a new leaf while in prison and was now a successful author. It must have been an ego boost to feel he'd had a hand in helping Jake turn his life around… until the truth came crashing down around him.
Sonny turned to face Castillo again. "How bad was it?"
"You've read the reports."
"I want to know what isn't in the reports."
"Ask your partner," Castillo replied, with finality that signaled the end of the discussion.
"I intend to."
MVMVMV
When you're in the dark
Baby, don't despair
I'm just a spark away
I will be there...
--Richie Sambora
Rico is fine; Rico can take care of himself. Rico is fine. Rico can take care of himself. It had been an endless loop in Sonny's head every minute he was away. Even Billy had asked if everything was all right.
No, it wasn't and hadn't been for a long time.
Backing away from each other, not working together as much, was its own type of torture, but it was the only way to preserve what they could of their status quo. Because they were compromised and they knew it. There was a reason the police department didn't let couples work together, and even though they couldn't, strictly speaking, be classified as such, they'd always been closer than was appropriate. The times Rico was in danger, Sonny was panicked, frantic. Rico had gone from the best partner he'd ever had to his Achilles heel.
'This guy I gotta wait for' had turned into... this is the one I can't lose.
Sonny was an expert at dissembling. He'd spent his life undercover, after all, and no one saw anything he didn't want them to. No one would ever guess how deep his feelings for Rico went.
Except Rico himself.
It was nearly impossible for either of them to keep anything from the other. All they had to do was lock eyes, and it was as if every thought and feeling were crystal clear. Not 100%, they still got things wrong, but it was accurate enough to be eerie.
And he didn't know what any of it meant.
Sonny was nothing if not an expert at lying to himself. He hadn't thought much about it before, but since his amnesia, it had taken on disturbing connotations. It felt like he couldn't be sure of himself anymore, never knowing what he might be keeping from himself.
The only thing he could be sure of in this confusing, soul-crushing world was Rico. Rico, who, like he'd told Joey Hardin that time, had never let him down. Why? Why did Rico take everything he dished out, over and over again?
There he was, lying to himself again. He knew why.
Still, it didn't matter; it couldn't. Because despite everything that had ever happened to Sonny, every heartbreak and betrayal, every loss and disappointment, times when he didn't think he could go on yet, somehow, he survived…
Rico was the one thing that could destroy him.
MVMVMV
You'll always be my sweet addiction
In this life, my saving grace
You're all that really matters
You know it's true
Ain't no me without you...
--Richie Sambora
"I feel like I need about a week-long shower," Rico admitted, leaning back on the bench seat and rubbing his eyes.
Sonny glanced at his partner in alarm. He was glad he'd gotten Rico aboard the boat and talking, but his choice of words had raised Sonny's protective instincts. "What the hell happened out there?!" he asked gruffly, instantly regretting the confrontational approach he'd gone with. It would not get him anywhere with this man.
"You read the files."
Now Rico was pulling the same line on him that Castillo had, and it rankled. "Fine, if you're gonna force me to read between the lines." Sonny got up and wandered through the salon to avoid looking at his partner. They rarely avoided eye contact, but if ever there was a time to, this was it.
"You had a case of hero worship for this creep, because you wanted desperately to believe that what we're doing here actually makes a difference, despite all the evidence to the contrary; that criminals can reform, and redemption is real. Instead, you were faced with a nutjob who wanted you to help him play judge, jury, and executioner to a few street people who'd had some bad breaks and made a few mistakes. Had to stand by impotently and watch while they were murdered without being able to stop any of it. You came up with a plan to save a kid who'd started turning tricks after being abused, but it didn't work and you blame yourself. In the end, the only one who made it out alive was the one who'd helped him get paroled in the first place. And now you're not sure there's anything left to believe in."
The silence when he finished getting it off his chest was absolute.
Sonny forced himself to look at his partner. For the first time, he was unable to decipher Rico's expression, and it scared him. The shame was immediate and inevitable.
"Jesus, Rico."
"I do believe in redemption," Rico retorted angrily.
Sonny instinctively knew Rico was one second away from leaving, and he couldn't let that happen. Reacting without thinking (one of his bad habits), he hit the floor on his knees in front of his partner, gratified when he could read this expression: surprise. "I'm sorry."
Then Rico dropped a bomb. "You made me believe."
The world stopped.
Sonny wanted to demand to know what he meant by that, to argue against it, to run and hide. Instead, he was pinned to the spot as Rico reached out his hand, resting a palm that had no right to be as soft as it was against his cheek.
Sonny's heart jumped into his throat. He tried to swallow it back down. "He wasn't worth it," he whispered.
"Everyone deserves forgiveness."
They weren't talking about Manning anymore, and they both knew it. Sonny shook his head, feeling the loss when the motion dislodged Rico's hand. He fought the urge to grab it and put it back.
No, no, no. This wasn't supposed to be about him. He was meant to comfort Rico, let him talk about the horrors he'd seen at Manning's, help him process it.
Rico smiled slightly, a Mona Lisa smile. "Show them some grace, my mother used to say. Or when I was beating myself up over something, she'd tell me to give myself some grace."
Sonny's heart plummeted back down like the dip in a rollercoaster, churning somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve this man in his life, didn't know if he'd be allowed to keep him. All he knew was that he had to try.
"Show yourself some grace, Sonny. For me."
All Sonny could do was nod and struggle to keep any tears from falling. The conversation was well and truly away from him now, and he had no idea how it had happened. It was starting to feel awkward there on the floor, but he couldn't figure out how to make getting up a nonchalant move. Rico was gazing into his eyes anyway, and it was impossible to turn away from those depths that were looking into his soul.
Eventually, Rico seemed to find what he was searching for and broke eye contact. Sonny almost pitched forward, as if a tether had abruptly snapped. It was the damnedest thing, this bond between them.
"I've never been to an execution," Rico began after several more heartbeats had passed in silence. "Never wanted to, and I wish… The guy was a stone-cold murderer, right. And I know the justice system is a revolving door; we've seen that played out too many times. But when I close my eyes at night, I see his body, strapped to that chair as two thousand volts go through it, and I think, what gives us the right?!"
"Judge not, lest ye be judged," Sonny found himself murmuring, thinking about forgiveness and grace, and a friend who believed in you when you didn't believe in yourself.
"Yeah. All I could do was bear witness. I couldn't stop it; there was nothing I could do. And it made me think about a lot of things…"
Sonny shifted into a more comfortable position. He leaned back against his partner's legs, offering support through physical contact that said, I'm here, and listened as Rico talked well into the night. Until his ass went numb and he dozed off with his head against Rico's knee, dreaming of fingers combing through his hair.