Officer Down

A door opened, revealing a short, fat man, alongside a taller, more slender one. The fatter man waddled to his client and whispered in Rico’s ear.

“Nice try Elliot,” the slender man spoke, watching Rico and his lawyer. “We’ll put this murderer away for life.”

Two men, dressed in police uniforms, came in. Soon, Rico would be dragged out of the room to be placed behind bars - until tomorrow, when he’d face the judge.

“Sure,” Elliot Malone grabbed her jacket off the back of the chair and swung herself around, ready to leave.

“Sergeant Malone, you did a great job, even if he didn’t confess… and you didn’t even trust your gut.”

Without turning around, Elliot laughed, “Oh yeah. Thanks Commissioner Thompson.” And without another word, she left the room and the building, ready to go home.

That night was restless for her, but she tried her best to ignore it. The feeling in the pit of her stomach kept her mind moving. It churned and flopped around, until she didn’t have any choice but to get out of the bed.

Moaning, Elliot stumbled to her feet and went to sit in her kitchen.

‘What if he really didn’t do it? Rico Mendez…’ she thought to herself, ‘maybe I was wrong…’ Thoughts continued to pry into her head. Finally, she decided to ignore them and sit at her table in silence.

The next morning Elliot found herself tipsy and unable to focus. Because she couldn’t see too well, she decided it best to take the bus.

Once at work, she found piles of files and packets of papers on her desk. With a groan, she sat down and began to look over the first few. It came time to sign her name on the line, but as she began to write an E, her left hand froze.

Flipping the papers over, she began to read, and read, and read. About half an hour later, she finished the whole thing and signed her name.

“Malone, meet your new partner,” the commissioner stood tall over Elliot, who was still set behind her desk. Standing beside the commissioner, an almost exact replica of dark brown hair, blue eyes, and a tall, slender body stood, staring at her. “Meet Jerry Thompson.”

“Par-partner?” Elliot stuttered, “Why?”

Without a definite answer, only a nod and smile, the commissioner left his clone with the sergeant.

“Um, hi?” she said, getting out of her seat and following her boss. “Read those, actually read them, and tell me what each is about when I get back.” Her commands to the new recruit were followed obediently. Jerry sat down and began filing through the many stacks of papers.

Half way to Commissioner Thompson’s office, Elliot stopped. Her mind started moving faster, second-guessing her decision. Just as this morning, her visions became blurred and she found it hard to stand. “I guess I won’t…” And with that, Elliot walked away, back to her new partner.

When she departed from the station, and arrived home, it wasn’t long before her vision hazed and her legs were breaking out from under her, every time she had to make even the slightest choice.

After about a week of the continuous symptoms, Elliot found it time to see a doctor. They didn’t find anything wrong with her physical being; they suggested going to see her eye doctor. All the optometrist had to say was that she needed a new prescription.

A month later, after the chiropractor, optometrist, physiatrist and cardiologist, Elliot was still felling dizzy and weak. At her desk, at work, Elliot moaned, her life was beginning to worsen.

“What’s up Sarg?” Jerry popped his head in.

“Go away,” she showed him away with her hand.

“Still haven’t figured out the craziness?” he sat down in the chair on the opposite side of her desk.

Pushing her bright orange hair out of her face, Elliot ignored what her partner was saying. Her jade eyes looked past him as two men carried in a reluctant woman. Her cloths were torn and tattered with, what looked like, blood.

“Get me outta here!” she screamed, pulling away from the officers. But, the suspect’s efforts were useless; she was handcuffed and couldn’t run away. She was brought t to the back of the building, kicking and screaming.

Curious, Elliot followed the three beings, Jerry right behind her. Stepping into the viewing room, Elliot stared at the woman covered in blood.

“It was you, two months ago! You killed Cecelia!” one of the men asked.

“What are you talking about?” the tanned woman pretended to look stupid, turning her head away from them.

“Ella, that’s what they call you?” the same man spoke again, “You killed her. Then you turned the evidence around to make it look like your brother…Rico, did it. You- I can’t believe--”

Elliot’s face drained of blood and her whole body became numb. In the pit of her stomach, she could feel the churning begin and her mind exploded with thoughts of Rico and the time he’d spent in prison, rotting for nothing. The guilt had cluttered together and she darted out of the viewing room, into the interrogation.

“Was it you?” her voice cracked, surprising her, and the two men. She was never easy-going; she was a hard cop behind the police department doors.

Ella looked over at the towhead that had just walked in, “Aren’t you that Elliot girl that’s always hangin’ ‘round Rico?” she asked.

“Answer the question,” she said with a soft voice.

“I want a lawyer,” declared the woman, pushing strains of her afro out of her face.

o.O. One Week Later O.o

“I’m sorry Rico…” Elliot stood beside the pale man as they walked out of the courthouse together. “The evidence…”

Shrugging, the man said nothing. He looked at the familiar car and then got in, waiting to be driven home.

The ride home was awkward and unpleasant for the both of them. Elliot was at a loss of words – she wanted to apologize, but couldn’t think of a way to start off.

The vehicle came to a stop ad Rico stepped out, “See ya at work, Elliot?” he said, leaning on the door.

Forcing a smile on her face, Elliot nodded, “Yeah.” The door slammed and she drove off, ready to settle in at home, for a long night’s rest, without guilt, and a week off the force.

The night sky was beginning to dim away, leaving the city in bright lights. Skyscrapers, bars, and every glow the city was producing were staring back at young Elliot.

Putting her car in the garage was the first step in her week off. She walked up the stairs, and down a few halls, before finally arriving at her apartment. Taking out her keys, she was about to unlock the door when she realized it was open, but only slightly. She peered inside, finding half of her home missing: the plasma television screen was gone off her wall, and the DVD player had disappeared; neither her couch nor stereo system was anywhere to be seen.

Her hand reached for her belt, pulling the gun out of his rooster. She kicked the door in. Cautiously, her eyes darted in every direction, ready to shot, her fingers strong on the trigger.

Moving slowly in the bare house, Elliot’s eyes scanned for the thieves. Voices came from behind her bedroom entrance, faint voice - whispers. Again, the sergeant made her way across the carpeted floor, stealthily, assuring her feet were silent.

Her palms were becoming sweating, and the resolution to storm in and start shooting was in her mind. Before she realized what she was doing, her foot met with the wooden door, disrupting the two casually dressed men that were tearing apart the bed.

“Freeze! You’re both under arrest,” her voice was surprising nice.

The mask-less men looked at each other in disbelief, each holding a separate piece of the bed frame. In unison, they laughed.

“Really? That a toy gun?” one of them asked, dropping the frame.

Elliot held her gun as firm as she could; she wanted to shoot them, in the leg, or arm, just enough to disable them, but her finger wouldn’t fire her pistol. The gun began to shake in her hand, and then a shot was fired.

Watching it bleed, Elliot stood still, silent. Her left hand was numb and gushing blood. The two men, once more, looked at each other, both of them holding a different type of revolver. Together they’d shot her, twice.

They rushed out, shoving the wounded woman out of their way. Looking down at her chest, Elliot felt the burn of the lesion.

“Hel-help me,” she cried, falling against the floor, staining the hardwood floor under her. “Help me!” tears welled up in her eyes, and the last thing she knew, sirens were going off in her head.

Bright lights. Lights were everywhere, blinding Elliot to the point where she began to think about her death. ‘Here I am… in heaven. It’s finally my time. This is what I deserve, for waiting, for hesitating, that isn’t my job!’

“Miss Malone? Miss Malone?” a voice called out, breaking her concentration.

As the bright lights cleared and a white ceiling took their place, Elliot opened her eyes. Around her charts, x-rays, and monitors were blinking, buzzing, and beeping in her ears.

“Where am I?” she asked.

Standing over her bed, a man with a clipboard and white jacket smiled at her, “In the hospital.”

Groaning, Elliot shook her head and put her palms against the hospital bed. A fierce pain sliced through her left arm and down her torso. She cursed as her head hit the pillow.

“Yeah, your hand had to be operated one… and you almost died,” Jerry’s familiar voice cracked.

“Thanks Dr. Thompson,” Elliot’s dull expression was a sign she was feeling better.

“He’s right Miss,” the real doctor chuckled – chucking only made her feel worse, like he was laughing at her pain – “It was pretty close to your heart, the bullet, I mean.” After looking at her vitals, eyes, and scribbling something on her chart, the doctor left.

“I almost died,” she mumbled, “I made a bad decision, what am I going to do?” Tears were starting to form in her eyes as the pain of her chest arm hand kept throbbing.

“You need to stop sulking,” Jerry said sternly, staring off into the abyss of nothingness. “Sulking is the reason you’re here.”

Offended, Elliot opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by Jerry, “My brother told me about how you could convict anyone - solving cases took no time at all - and not because there was a lack of evidence, or a surplus of it, but because you had instinct.

“Sarg, get over it, or next time, I won’t be here telling you how you need to not stop and think about what you do, and just do it. No, I’ll be wondering what went wrong, even though I know the answer all too well. Next time, I’ll be at your funeral. Just stop over thinking it, you only made one mistake, it happens…” Jerry shoved his hands in his pockets and wandered out of the over-heated hospital room. Maybe he was off to solve another crime, without looking and waiting for the past to fix itself.

“I think he’s right deary,” an elderly woman, in the bed next to the fallen sergeant, proclaimed, “sulking is a bad habit.”

She looked over at the woman, who was knitting, and for some reason, Elliot’s heart poured out onto her sleeve and she explained everything to the old woman.

o.O One Month Later O.o

“Nice to see you back at work, Sarg,” with a big smile, Jerry held the door open for his partner.

Laughing at the look on his friend’s face at the sight of Jerry, Rico was leaning on his desk, watching Elliot gimp in. “Elliot, I’m glad you’re back.”

“Yeah, oh yeah. Can’t wait for the fun,” she was still hurt, but her job had been calling her all during her recovery. The doctor had finally agreed to let her out of the hospital, as long as she promised to stay calm and do paper work.

“Malone, glad to see you doing well…” Commissioner Thompson greeted, setting a few papers on her desk. She sat down and stared at the long list of things she had to sign.

“Heard you were talking about me, Commissioner,” Elliot smiled, her eyes pointing to his brother.

Chuckling, Commissioner Thompson turned around, “I hate seeing my best officer come down with the sniffles,” he said, walking away.

The End.

A/N: Does it need work? This was for a project, well short story at school, and i had a week to do it, and it was over working myself, ugh. I just want to know if it sounds all right and if the ending fits ohkay? thank you!

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