An interlude in my Gary and Brigatti series; follows "False Starts"; Gary's thoughts & Brigatti's activities during the days related in the episode "Time"

Rating: PG

Spoilers: Time

Disclaimer: Early Edition, its characters, and its aired situations belong to Tristar Pictures.  No copyright infringement is intended, and no money is being made offthis work of fan fiction. On the other hand, all original material contained within this story belong solely to the author and may not be used without permission.

Archiving: Please ask permission before archiving (I like to keep tabs on my stuff.).

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Critical Junctures
by Scheherezade
 

Detective Toni Brigatti waited patiently, quietly against the inside wall of the dilapidated building. She was going to have a nice, fat paycheck this week from all the overtime she’d put in. Work had always provided a refuge of sorts, an escape from the indomitable nature of her heart. It didn’t work as well as it used to; the wall had been broken in too many places. So she had waited for Gary to call back and finish his sentence. But he hadn’t as yet; and she chose not to phone him lest she had misread his intent. Although she was quite good at reading suspects, she wasn’t so sure of her skills when it came to Hobson. But the busyness of the last few days had provided some succor at least. Only when she went home late at night and found no message waiting did the loneliness creep out of the shadows. Then she’d toss it back into its hole and pretend she hadn’t seen it. The next morning the crusade against lawlessness would beckon again.

Brigatti forced herself to focus on the task at hand. Her department had been after this guy for months; he’d finally made a mistake they could use to reel him in. It wasn’t that he was a great criminal, just a slippery one. But he wasn’t slipping away this time. It had been a productive week so far, and if this went right, it would end even better. And if their luck held out, they just might have the bait they needed to catch the big fish.

 With a toss of her head, she whipped her dark hair out of eyes, wishing briefly that she’d taken the time to clip it back. She tensed at the sound of stealthy footsteps crossing a creaky floorboard. The movement stopped while attentive ears listened for any unwanted company. A voice from down the hall echoed in the empty building. The owner of the approaching footsteps moved hastily toward the nearest exit. Brigatti readied herself and concentrated on judging the man’s distance and speed.

The instant he drew even with her, Brigatti cocked her police special. “Freeze, Sharky.” Seeing his gun, she quickly ordered, “Drop it!” He hesitated, eliciting a tight, confident smile from Brigatti. “Go ahead. Let’s save the taxpayers the expense of a trial.”

The scruffy little man, who wasn’t much taller than Brigatti, narrowed his beady eyes. Before he could act, more officers burst into the room from both doors, guns drawn, shouting a chorus of “Police! Freeze! Drop the gun!”

Brigatti graced Sharky with the kind of smile a heavyweight champion might bestow on his defeated rival. “Ah, sure you won’t reconsider?”

With a disgusted grimace, the seedy bookie cautiously turned his weapon around and handed it to her, butt first. “How’d you find me?” he asked as another officer came over to begin the search and handcuffing process.

Brigatti uncocked her weapon and causally answered, “I’m a damn good cop.”
 

**********
 

“So how did you find Sharky?” Armstrong asked.

“I had a nice little woman to woman chat with his girlfriend. Then I threatened to haul her in for prostitution and money laundering and see it to it that she spent the next ten to fifteen in a rent-free, government-issue, one-room apartment.”

Winslow laughed. “That’s why I like you, Brigatti. There’s a set of brass knuckles under that velvet glove.”

Brigatti barely managed to avoid rolling her eyes. Winslow meant well, but sometimes he really needed to keep his mouth shut. “Let’s just hope he tells us something we can use on Freely,” she said, turning the subject back to their collar.

“Yeah, that sorry excuse for a human being’s eluded us one too many times.” Armstrong gritted his teeth. He cast a steely gaze through the one-way mirror to the man awaiting interrogation. “Sharky here is our best hope to get something we can use to bring Freely down. So don’t make any big plans for a while, especially this weekend.”

“I’ll be sure to clear my social calendar,” Brigatti scoffed.

Anderson responded to her sarcasm with half a smile. Then, determination making his features hard, he face turned back to the other detectives. “Sooner or later, I’m gonna nail his sorry butt to a prison wall.”

Winslow raised his coffee cup. “Here’s to nailing criminal butts.”

Brigatti laughed in spite of herself.

Encouraged, Winslow asked, “Sure you won’t go with me to the charity ball next week, Brigatti? This is your last chance. I can’t wait until the last minute to ask someone else, you know.”

“Too late, Winslow. It’s already the last minute. Besides, I have a date.” Brigatti winked and sashayed out of the room.

“What?” Winslow asked a chuckling Armstrong.

“You just don’t give up, do you?”

Through the one-way mirror, Winslow watched Brigatti stride into the interrogation room like she owned it - and Sharky. “The glass is always half-full, my man. The glass is always half-aahhh-aahhh-choo!”

“Gesundheit!”

“Full.”
 

**********
 

The Cat scrutinized the man staring out the window. He’d stared a lot lately, ever since he’d learned that, had it not been for his predecessor, Lucius Snow, he’d have been dead twenty-four years ago. It was no small undertaking to contemplate how one event might affect another seemingly unconnected event even years later. Not to mention knowing who would get the Paper next. So Gary Hobson had been a little preoccupied lately pondering the nature of the Paper, its call on the recipient’s life, and the letter left by Snow. Gary had read it enough to memorize it.

...you’ve got a whole lot more questions than I have answers.... I doubt that you’ll be the last...whatever debt you think you owe me has been paid in full a thousand times over... you’ve found your gift. I know you serve it with honor.
...You of all people know how fragile life is. So somewhere between the pages of our newspaper, Gary Hobson, find the time to live it.

With a yawn, the cat moved from its place on the floor and pounced up on Gary’s lap, pulling the man’s attention back to his surroundings. Gary spared a warm look for the Cat and began to stroke it, eliciting a soft purr from the animal.

“You gonna be around for Lindsay, too?”

The Cat looked at Gary as if to say, “What do you think?”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” the man replied. He scratched around the cat’s ear. “So, what do you think, Cat? Are we going to work together on this or are you going to fight me every step of the way?”

“Meow.”

“Cause I think I’m going to take Snow’s advice.”

“Meow.”

“There’s more to life than racing from disaster to disaster.”

The cat nestled into Gary’s lap and closed its eyes.

Gary chortled softly. “Okay. We’ll figure something out.”

And the man peered out the window again. The revelations of the past week had changed the way he looked at the world. Now the people he passed every day were seen in a new light: visions of hope, optimistically living life in the face of its fragility. He found himself sharing the thrilled wonder of a small child exploring the universe and the quiet contentment of old men playing chess in the park. He could be caught laughing with the children playing outside with unbridled enthusiasm or dreaming with a young couple delighting in their first-born child. He would observe a lovers’ rendezvous with appreciation rather than envy, with graciousness rather than a melancholy wistfulness. So maybe...someday.... He hadn’t yet reached the point where he could truly see himself in a real relationship; he was still digesting the implications of all he had learned and experienced in recent days. But it was simmering in the back of his mind, waiting for the perfect moment. Like everything else, it was a matter of timing. Nevertheless, the weight on his shoulders had settled comfortably, assuring him that he would be at peace carrying it - perhaps not today, certainly not every day; but in time and for the most part. Like breaking in a new pair of sneakers.

He had turned a corner. Now Gary breathed the air as though for the first time, took a moment to gaze at the stars or smell a flower or appreciate a good piece of music - things that had slowly slipped from his attention after the Paper had entered his life. Even the Cat’s soft fur and contented rumble seemed like new experiences. He had been so engrossed with the demands of the Paper that he hadn’t appreciated the best things in his life unless he almost lost them. He guessed that most people were like that. But he had a unique perspective; he should know better. And so he resolved to do a better job of appreciating that miraculous thing called life.

A knock on the door drew his attention. “Gary?”

“It’s open, Marissa.” He smiled when she entered. Just the sight of his dear friend made him grateful to be alive.

“Everything okay?”

Realizing how long he’d been up there, he reassured her. “Everything’s fine. I was just thinking.”

“Understandable.”

“Busy?”

“No. It’s pretty quiet.”

“Wanna hang out?”

A broad grin lit Marissa’s face. “I’d like that.”

**********

Email the author:  seriouslysci@yahoo.com
 

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