Chapter Text
Jack woke up in his one bedroom apartment on a chilly, autumn Tuesday. He blinked once, then twice, then shut his eyes and yawned. He squinted at his alarm clock, the glare from it causing a mild headache.
5:54 am
He groaned, rolling over in bed so he was laying on his back. His eyes adjusted to the white ceiling above him. Glancing over at his clock again, the time read:
5:55 am
He sighed, shutting his eyes for a moment as he waited for his alarm to go off at 6. Just as he started to doze off for those precious five minutes, he was jolted awake by a pressure on his chest and a loud, annoyed meow! filling his ears.
He groaned, his eyes still shut as he laid his hand on the back of the cat standing on his chest. “Mornin’ Jess.”
Meow!
“I know, I know.”
She was hungry, and incredibly impatient. Jack sat up slowly, gently pushing Jess off of him. He moved the covers aside and planted his bare feet on the cold, wooden floors of his apartment. A chill ran up his spine. He stood up and made his way over to the kitchen, Jess following close behind him as she loudly communicated her hunger.
Jack grabbed Jess’s bowl and moved it over to a closet. He opened the closet, set the bowl down next to a bag of kitty food, and grabbed the scooper inside of the bag. Jess eagerly tried to jump into the bag, but Jack used his shoulder to push her away. He held the scooper in front of her as he gave her a short lecture.
“You have to be patient, Jess.” He filled the scooper with food and dumped it in the bowl. “Good things come to those who wait.”
He grabbed the bowl, closing the closet with his foot, and set her food bowl next to her water bowl. Jess attacked the food like it was the greatest thing she’d ever seen, ravaging it as if it were the last thing she would ever eat. Jack smiled, petting her back for a moment, but being interrupted by the sound of his alarm going off in his bedroom.
Jack walked to his room and turned off the alarm.
6:00 am
He could finally start his day.
The rest of the morning went as it usually did. He got dressed, made himself a nutritious breakfast (a bowl of fruity flakes), made his bed, brushed his teeth, combed his hair and winked at himself in the mirror, then put on his shoes, said goodbye to Jess, and closed the door behind him as he left his apartment. He fumbled with the key to his door for a moment, then locked his apartment door and started down the stairs.
Jack’s apartment was one of three located on top of a local bakery called Margarets Sweet Treats. Margaret was the only reason Jack had been able to get the apartment in the first place. She’d offered it to him at a lower price after he’d confessed that he was unable to get the money he needed to afford it. He’d lived there for 3 years and he’d spent all of that time helping Margaret with anything she needed. There were multiple times where he’d ended up working a full shift at the bakery on one of his days off. He always tried to refuse pay, but she’d threaten to evict him if he didn’t let her pay him for his work, so he really had no choice.
Jack reached the bottom of the stairs and opened a door leading into the bakery. Margaret was at the counter, helping a line of customers. She spotted Jack and smiled at him. “Good morning, Jack!” The old woman smiled at him.
Jack smiled back, waving. “Good morning, Marge.”
One of the customers in line, a middle aged man holding a croissant, looked at Jack and nodded a hello. “Mornin’, officer.”
Jack nodded back and smiled at the man before walking out of the building. He adjusted the cuffs of his police uniform and began walking towards his cop car parked behind the building. He got into the driver’s seat and put the key in the ignition. He fixed the rearview mirror, fixing his hair for a moment in the reflection.
Jack paused for a moment, furrowing his brow in discomfort. He grabbed his right arm, gripping it tight, and pulled it slightly. He let out a small sigh of relief and then grabbed the steering wheel, starting his drive towards the station.
“Ugh, finally! We’ve been on that plane forever!” June Del Toro stood in the New York airport, setting her luggage aside as she stretched.
“Technically we were in the airport forever. We were only on the plane for an hour and a half.” Quint set his suitcase and backpack next to him as he sat down on one of the airport benches. He bent down and retied his shoe that had come undone on the plane.
“I told you guys we should’ve driven.” Dirk crossed his arms, looking at the pair, clearly annoyed. “We could’ve been here way sooner.”
Quint waved his hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter. We got here with plenty of time to spare. I don’t have to meet with Dr. Rye until 11, so we’ve still got about an hour to check into our hotel before June has to leave for her interview.”
Dirk sighed. “What am I supposed to do while you guys are gone? I’m gonna be so bored.”
June shrugged. “You could get a start on finding out where Jack is. It’d be nice to get a head start on that. I’ll be back around noon to help you out.”
Quint nodded, placing his hand to his chin as he crossed his other arm. “Right, we should get started on that as soon as we can. I’ll continue trying to find his whereabouts online once we get to the hotel. Maybe I’ll have some more luck there.”
June sat down on the bench, crossing her arms skeptically. “Maybe, but it’s not like ‘Jack Sullivan’ is a unique name.”
“We’ve already checked social media for his accounts and we turned up nothing. What are we even searching for?” Dirk asked.
Quint shrugged. “I mean, anything, right? Maybe he was mentioned in a news article, or- or maybe there’s a job record, or just- something.” Quint sighed. “He can’t just disappear, there has to be something online.”
The group stayed silent. No one looked at each other, but they were all thinking the same thing, they just didn’t realize it until Dirk said it.
“What if he’s dead?”
June looked at Dirk and glared. “Dirk! He’s not dead!”
Dirk shrugged. “How do we know? We haven’t heard from him in almost 10 years. He could be anywhere! We don’t even know if he’s in New York. He could’ve been adopted by someone and moved to another state, he could be literally anywhere in the United States.” Dirk sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I don’t want the twerp to be gone. I want to find him as much as you guys do, but we have no idea where he could be. We’re just guessing.”
They were silent again.
Quint spoke first, breaking the silence. “...I’d rather guess than not look at all.”
Jack arrived at the police station at 7:30 in the morning. He parked his car in its usual spot and got out. He closed the door behind him, turned around suddenly, opened his car door and reached inside to grab two cups of coffee he’d left in the cup holders. He winced at the paper cup burning his bare hand and cursed himself for not getting a carrier as he quickly walked inside, trying to avoid too much of his skin melting off his hand.
Jack used his back to push open the front door to the station and then promptly began speed walking towards the break room.
The break room was a small, quiet room with dull gray walls and a ceiling light that hummed softly. It had two square tables with plastic chairs placed wherever the last person to use them decided they wanted to sit. It had all the usual amenities, a microwave, fridge, a small TV on the countertop, a coffee maker, and the newest addition to the quaint dining space; a toaster oven that the older cops hadn’t yet figured out.
The TV was on today, playing reruns of the baseball game from last week. One cop stood in front of it, watching intently with his arms crossed. An older cop walked into the break room, scoffing at the empty coffee pot. He shook his head and started to make a new pot.
The older cop glanced over at the TV. “Didn’t this one play last week?”
The cop in front of the TV nodded. “Yeah, but I had to go to my brother’s wedding that weekend, so I didn’t get to see it.”
“Weddings. Such an inconvenience.” The older cop started the machine and it began to whirr as coffee started slowly dripping into the pot.
“Tell me about it.”
The older cop watched the pot fill slowly, not taking his eyes off of it as he spoke. “Wait until you get to the fifth inning.” He chuckled to himself. “I was watching that game with my son and boy does Reese Conway get a-”
The other cop, still facing the TV, shushed him loudly. “Hey, hey! No spoilers!”
The older cop stopped talking, smiling and chuckling to himself softly.
Jack suddenly burst through the break room door, saying repeatedly, “Hot, hot, hot!” He rushed over to one of the tables and set the coffee in his right hand down, letting out a small sigh of relief.
The cop at the TV smiled when he saw Jack. “Took you long enough, Sullivan.” He walked over to the table, abandoning the baseball game.
Jack raised his eyebrow. “What are you talking about? I’m almost half an hour early.”
The cop, named Damian Rodriguez, shrugged. “To work, maybe, but I got here fifteen minutes ago, coffeeless.” He pretended to act sad, pouting slightly as he crossed his arms.
Jack rolled his eyes. “Oh, boo-hoo. You couldn’t feed your caffeine addiction as soon as you clocked in.”
Rodriguez laughed, reaching out to grab his coffee but immediately pulling his hand away after feeling the temperature of the cup. “Damn! What’d they put in it, lava?”
Jack took a small sip from his cup, wincing slightly as it burned his tongue. “Oh come on, it’s not that hot.” He spoke sarcastically. He took off the lid of the cup to let it cool down.
Rodriguez glared at Jack. “Ok, asshole. Not all of us have a bionic arm that isn’t affected by ridiculously hot, five dollar coffee.” He also took the lid off of his.
Jack chuckled. “Hold that coffee for a few minutes and maybe you can get one too.” He blew on the open cup to try and cool the drink down, then raised his eyebrows and glanced at Rodriguez. “And speaking of, you owe me 5.50.”
Rodriguez gasped, offended. “What?! I paid for your chicken wings at lunch a week ago! This is only half of what you owe me!” He gestured to his cup.
Jack put his hand on his chin, looking thoughtfully into the distance. “Hmm… that’s not how I remember it.” He smirked.
Rodriguez stopped and stared at him for a moment. He furrowed his eyebrows in a glare and grumbled, “You’re the fuckin’ worst, you know that?” He reached to pick up his coffee, then pulled his hand away again, forgetting how hot it was. “Fuck! It’s like touching the surface of the damn sun. How am I supposed to drink that before my shift? I’m going to be in a bad mood all day now.”
“I’m the one who has to share a car with you.” Jack muttered.
Rodriguez glared at him. “Heard that!”
The old cop walked over to the pair, holding a steaming Batman mug. “Hey, Jack. How’s that ol’ car holdin’ up for ya?”
Jack looked over at him and smiled. “Pretty good, actually. Thanks again for the discount, Pete. You saved me at least a month of overtime.”
Pete smiled, waving his hand dismissively. “Oh, please. I’m just glad to get the damn thing out of my yard.” He moved his mug closer to get ready to take a sip. “My wife thanks you too.” He chuckled to himself. “She’d been complaining ‘bout it for years. Soon as you drove away with it she kissed me right on my cheek.” He smiled to himself.
“Yeah? How is Laura doing anyway?” Jack asked.
Pete sipped his coffee, letting out a satisfied ‘ahh’. “She’s doing just fine. Still caught up in that garden of hers. I swear, she works harder in that garden than I do here, but boy does it pay off. That woman makes the best meals with those new vegetables of hers.”
Rodriguez cut in. “Oh! Is she going to make the station an apple pie again? I haven’t stopped thinking about the one she made last year.” He groaned. “Ugh, it was so good.”
Pete chuckled. “I’m glad you liked it. I’ll be sure to mention it to her, and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind making another one. She’s been lookin’ for an excuse to use some of those apples we get from our tree.”
Rodriguez pumped his fist in excitement. “Yes!”
The door to the break room opened again and a younger looking cop with red hair held it open and looked inside, his eyes trained on Jack.
“Sullivan.” The cop spoke. “Captain wants to see you in his office.”
Jack nodded. “Got it, thanks Ross.”
Ross nodded and left the break room, the door swinging closed behind him.
Rodriguez muttered to Jack. “Someone’s in troubblllee.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “You’re going to feel so dumb when he gives me a promotion.” He started walking out of the room.
“Pfft. Like that'll ever happen.” Rodriguez carefully touched the side of his cup, smiling in relief when he realized it had cooled down enough for him to grab it. He picked up the cup, taking a small, slow sip out of it.
Jack rolled his eyes and set his coffee down on the counter. “Make sure no one drinks my coffee.” He called Rodriguez before leaving the break room.
“Sure thing!” Rodriguez called back. He watched Jack leave before walking over to Jack’s cup. He picked it up and smiled, satisfied. “More for me.”