breakstherules | GCPD meets London

Two more shots were fired, and Louise went against possibly every precaution that Jim had given, or would have given, about her injury and post-op, and flung her top half above the car's roof, both barrels blazing, and took out the two bastards who'd fired upon them. A lazy smirk crossed her features as she slid back down the side door of the car and back to sitting beside him. Quirking an eyebrow at him, she tossed him a glance.

"And now there are just three."

Three that still had guns as bullets pelted the hood of the car just as Louise sunk down.

Jim glances between the car mirror and the door, hoping he was shielded enough to have a look. She was right, he only was seeing three right then, Wiles, a pilot, and one remaining henchmen.

"Notify P.D. that we'll be heading back soon and can use whatever backup is left." Which was code for Jim wanting to finish business here and end things. Too many lives were lost already on their side.

The SWAT team that remained was moving in closer, keeping the remaining three lingering around the stairs of the plane, leading Jim to come out of hiding and follow close behind them.

Louise fished her radio out of her blazer pocket and gave explicit instructions to despatch before replacing it and picking up both weapons again to follow Jim's lead into the fray. One of their men clipped the last henchman in the back of the knee, sending him sprawling, and the remaining pilot dropped his shotgun in a panicked surrender upon seeing that he was now surrounded.

Officers from the Yard arrived and as the SWAT team began clearing the bodies off the lawn, they arrested both the last of Wiles' toadies and the cowardly pilot, dragging them off to the patrol cars. All that remained were Jim, Louise, and the posh young punk, who was currently clutching in agony at his hip. The redheaded detective moved forward and cocked her pistol, aiming it squarely at Wiles' forehead whilst canting her head slowly to the right, poised to take an accurate shot if he attempted any smart moves.

"Care to do the honours, Gordon?" she tossed out nonchalantly.

There's a sneer on Gordon's face as he holsters his gun. He leans over him, hovering, in hopes to be as threatening as possible in a show of dominance. "Were you working with Falcone?"

The look in response was harsh as Wiles glared up, refusing to speak a moment, causing Jim to wedge his foot near the wound. "I asked if you're working for Falcone?"

"Y-Yes!"

"Are there any others following you?"

"I-I don't know!" It was lie and Jim knew it, but he couldn't be for certain of who else was in the family. He adds more pressure to his foot, now encroaching towards the wound.

"Oswald Cobblepot!"

There's a low growl before Jim removes his foot, turning back to the rest of the team, "Lock him up!"

At Wiles' confession, Louise withdrew her semi-automatic, clicking the safety back into place as she did so, a hardened, icy expression marring her features. A faint sigh of relief escaped the Scot's throat at that moment, knowing he'd been spared, and his eyes squeezed shut a moment as the blood slowly came back to his face. But then, it all faded into indignance as the team hauled him away to a waiting vehicle, Wiles tossing them both a truly venomous glance over his shoulder as they led him away in cuffs.

Placing her weapon back into the holster strapped to her shoulder, the detective leaned back against the airstairs, letting her head rest gently against it as she shut her eyes and took a deep breath.

The look is met with an unphased expression by Jim. He's seen it before plenty of times, and most likely could be said the same for Louise.

With his own sigh, he makes the slow trek back to the car they were in and leans against the door, crossing his arms after scrubbing at his face as exhaustion set in.

She finally pushed her back off the airstairs to trudge back in order to join Jim at their car. Leaning upon the back passenger seat door next to him, Louise pushed a hand through her hair, which by now had come completely loose from its chignon; the redhead gave no fucks, pulling the last bobby pin free and pelting it into the woods before looking at him, a wan expression on her face.

"It's now 5AM. I reckon we share shifts driving back to London, and I'm going to shower and have the longest bloody sleep of my LIFE," she intoned.

Jim nods, eagerly pulling off the vest and holsters to pack away in the trunk to make the ride home more comfortable.

After sleeping like the dead himself, he did little that day before sauntering into headquarters around 4pm. Both he and Louise were given the day off, but he wanted to get a start on the paperwork before he forgot all the details. He did tend to be maybe too thorough in his reports, but it made things easier that way.

Quietly he's at a loaned desk sipping on a mug of coffee while sifting through some papers before he began typing.

For her part, Louise felt considerably more human as she strode into the building at precisely 2:00, situating herself in her office. She'd been so preoccupied with filing reports on the previous night's events that she hadn't given a thought to looking for Jim just yet, and when her eyes flicked over to the clock next, it was already 4:30.

Pushing herself away from her desk, she decided a nice cuppa--Builder's tea--would suit her just fine, and so she made her way to the break room, occasionally glancing round for her partner. Spying him at a desk normally reserved for uniformed officers, a slow smirk began tugging at the corner of her mouth and she walked over, folding her arms as she paused over him.

"You're casually late," she chided teasingly before gesturing towards her office. "You...could've used the other side of mine, you know," she offered with a nervous cough. "I don't exactly bite. Well. Not too hard, at least." It was a lame attempt at humour, and she knew it.

"We had today off, technically." He replied back, finishing off a sentence he was writing, half listening to Louise's attempt at humor (which wasn't any better than his, FYI). After finishing typing, he glances up towards her.

"How long have you been here, and how's your shoulder?" She appeared to be in better spirits, which was definitely a good thing.

She rolled her eyes subtly at his queries, shifting her stance and placing a hand on her slightly jutted out hip.

"I've been here since 2, and will you kindly STOP asking after my shoulder, Gordon, for pity's sake. I'm three days post-op, and I've got my big-girl knickers on," she reminded him, lifting an eyebrow in emphasis.

"However, it's rather charming that you care at all."

Brushing her hands several times down her pencil skirt in an effort to blow off the uncertainty, Louise glanced up at the wall clock.

"It's just gone five. Going to be clocking off in a bit. You?"

The breezy sound of her tone was supposed to convey indifference; however, the redhead was itching to blow off some steam after their ridiculously important collar, and she shifted her eyes furtively towards Jim's in a silent query.

He blinks at her reply, unsure as how to respond to that other than a blank nod. As she smoothed out her skirt, he clears his throat and shuffles some papers until her next question.

"Nah, I've barely made a dent in this pile. As soon as I get some of it put away, I'll head out." He spent far too many times late at the station, but what else was he going to do?

And as an after thought, "Got any plans?"

She shot him a withering glance.

"We've not even had three hours off after we just delivered probably the most impressive collar of the last five years. Lestrade himself gave us two days of personal time," she reasoned.

"The only plans I have are to stuff my paperwork until Wednesday, have a celebratory meal, get reasonably drunk, and do all that....," she halted slightly, her words beginning to stumble, "...hopefully with you."

Tapping his pen on the desk, he's half listening to her list until she mentioned the last three words. And without a beat, "Since you're the only person I know here other than Wiles... I'll go."

He couldn't sit here and do paperwork nonstop for the next two days, "Give me two hours and I'll meet you somewhere."

She smirked at him slyly. "Cheeky sod. If you'd picked Wiles, we'd likely need a chat."

*******

Three hours later, the pair of them were ensconced in a back booth inside the gastropub in Croydon Louise was so fond of nearest her flat, having had a lovely, if rather traditionally British meal. Two pints of real ale (Jim) and two glasses of Pinot (Louise) in, they were certainly less stilted and far more relaxed.

Louise, for her part, had gone home to change and maybe fuss with her hair a little. She'd ended up choosing a simple, black, tea-length wrap dress and left her hair down, probably an attempt to try to get herself to separate work and everything after.

Taking a casual sip from her glass, she smiled gamely at him.

"Okay, then. Worst date. What was it?" she asked.

He takes a sip from his beer and pops another french fry in his mouth, mulling over his answer. "Mm, got one! Where this woman showed me where she buried all her pets in this area of one of the parks. It got really awkward."

Unfortunately he didn't have that many dating stories, but at least he could come up with that one. "You?"

Louise rolled her eyes and set her glass back down.

"I was set up on a blind date by a colleague desperate to see me get laid. She talked him up and everything beforehand. He'd won tickets on Capital Radio to see Tom Petty, and needed a plus one, so I agreed, even though his music isn't my cup of tea. So we're sat there at the O2 Academy, and he's getting more and more annihilated with each passing second, and before you know it, he was calling me 'mama' repeatedly, and in the third person. 'Oh! Mama likes this song, yeah?' 'Ooh, Mama likes to dance, mm-hmm, I can get with that.' The sympathetic looks I got from the couple sitting next to us were proof positive." She shuddered in remembrance.

"Needless to say, I didn't call him back, and I seriously questioned if my colleague secretly had it out for me."

Jim's eyebrows raise in interest at her description of the date. Even just hearing this shortened version of her experience, he couldn't help snickering as he took another drink of his beer and leaning on an elbow.

"How did the night end?" He grinned, imagining she just slammed the door in the guy's face. He couldn't say he didn't blame her; he shut the taxi door rather quickly for his own date and waved her off in mid-sentence.

She just stared at him a moment, her lips falling open in disgust.

"How do you think it ended?" she replied with a small gasp of incredulity before picking up her glass again, taking a sip whilst locking eyes with his in a pointed look.

"Well, needless to say, I didn't get laid, and I didn't call him after he pushed his mobile number into my hand."

Her eyes continued to hold Jim's glance, and the irises began to soften in the familiarity of the soft blues of his as a barely audible sigh escaped her throat in the process of relaxing.

And here is Jim sitting with his hand wrapped tightly around the glass with his beer, lips pressed together in a line to prevent himself from bursting out laughing. It was hard not to and at the point he realizes that the alcohol was starting to course through him.

He finally looks away, taking another sip from the glass and sighs. "My partner and I used to go for drinks after an especially crazy case. I'm glad we can do that here too." It was like a little touch of home for him as he relaxed in his seat.

Louise stifled a chuckle at Jim's obvious attempt to conceal his.

"Go on, laugh," she prodded, giggling a little. "It can't be helped, truly that bloke was a tosser of the highest order."

Leaning forward and propping an elbow upon the table, she glanced up at him. "Mmm," she said, agreeing with his following statement, smiling vaguely.

"It is nice, isn't it. I can't actually remember when last I did this with my colleagues, or Lestrade, for that matter." She took a long pull from her glass, feeling warm and buzzy from the wine. "Was probably dragged along to watch a miserable football match after work at the pub, I'd imagine the last time was."

And just then, the smile faded a few ticks as reality began to dawn upon the detective. "'S a pity it won't last," she said in a faintly despondent tone.

"Ah, I won't be leaving for another few days." He reassured her, or perhaps himself as well for that matter. "Too much paperwork and -- We really shouldn't talk about work now." There's a light chuckle. "Sorry."

He finishes his glass and holds up 1 finger, "It'll be my last one, promise." He didn't normally binge drink like this, but it had been so long before he could properly relax for some time, that he was going to take advantage of it.

"You should come to Gotham some time. It's really not a bad place." It was, he was just in love with the city.

Louise thought she could detect a slight hesitation in Jim's voice as if he didn't want to rush returning overseas just yet, either, and she smiled softly in return, chuckling at his attempt to stop his relentless focus on the job.

As she took a sip, the PA system sprung to life once again as someone had placed a few quid in the jukebox, a song streaming out quietly over the din of the pub.

When Jim held up his finger to the barkeep for another round, she turned and nodded at him as well, indicating one more for herself as well. Turning back to face her partner, she smirked.

"Three drinks, Gordon...I'm not sure you'll be all right to walk home," she joked, clearly taking the piss at her lightweighted counterpart. Leaning forward, she propped her chin up with one hand as she considered his last statement.

"You've seemed rather keen I visit your old stomping grounds," she murmured wryly. "What would you do with me if I arrived suddenly?" The question was tossed out blithely; however, the cheeky quip was left in on purpose, a small twitch of her eyebrow indicating as such.

"Would you show me the intricacies of each corner of the precinct? Give me a tour of the Morgue, perhaps?" Tongue was firmly planted in cheek as the copper's lips tugged upwards.

"Do with you?" He raised an eyebrow in her direction at her comment. It was innocent, but he couldn't help to smirk in amusement.

He shrugs, "I've seen your 'stomping grounds', so fair is fair. Have you even been to the U.S.?" He's asking out of curiosity, a snide tone nowhere in sight.

"And if you wanted to see those, then sure." There's a shrug, but when it came down to it, he wasn't sure what he'd show her. It was difficult to surprise someone from London, given the size of the city.

She let that one slide, neither confirming, nor denying what she'd meant by it, just letting it sit there cheekily and allowing him to draw his own conclusions.

"Aside from a brief stint at Quantico for a workshop when I first joined up with the 'Yard, no," she chuckled, shrugging, and lifting her glass to take a pointed sip. "Those sorts of endeavours aren't exactly conducive to sightseeing, really."

Placing her glass down, she nodded at him. "I'd rather hope you'd show me your favorite spot in all of Gotham," she continued smoothly, a small smile reaching her eyes as she spoke. It really was a sight, these two normally reserved, unyielding people whose affinity for justice served often superceded anything else, attempting to deepen their bond, however temporary it was.

Edited (Wrong icon, gahhhh.) 2015-10-01 17:38 (UTC)

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Ooh, late start, Jimbo!! He's beginning to sound like me! LOL

BETTER LATE THAN NEVER

<3 <3

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"Binge drinking" on THREE drinks? LOL

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