In the ground floor garage, as Vin and Buck were gently lowering Chris to the floor, a familiar voice said, "Hi, fellas!"
Josiah groaned. "Paddy, what the hell are you doing here?"
Paddy was a reporter for a well-known paper, and he often interviewed the seven after a particularly daring bust.
"Well," he said, "I was just driving along, innocently tuning my radio, when lo and behold, I picked up the police band! And I was less than a block away, so I thought I'd see what's cooking."
"Go away, Paddy, please," pleaded Vin, without much hope. He was utterly ignored.
"Mr. Larabee. I was wondering if... if..." Paddy blinked. He had known Chris for a while now and he was sure he'd never seen him wearing a bright canary yellow T-shirt that had a picture of an agitated-looking chain-smoking man on it, and the slogan, "When I woke up this morning, I had one nerve left, and now... you're getting on it!"
Being a reporter, Paddy quickly regained his equilibrium. "If you could tell me what happened here?" he finished.
"No."
Paddy opened his mouth to try and do some convincing, but he knew better than to argue.
"Okay," he said, "Then how about a quote? How do you feel about your team having been cleared of all wrongdoing in the Hosenheimer case?"
"We have?" Chris asked, incredulously.
"We have?" asked everyone else, bewildered.
Paddy blinked. "Oh, that's right, you won't have heard yet. I only found out myself half an hour ago, while I was -" Suddenly he realized that he was in the presence of cops. "While I was doing something I can't quite remember right now." He finished lamely.
"We're clear?" asked Chris.
"You are," replied Paddy, as the sound of sirens appeared out of nowhere.
For the first time in over a week, Chris smiled. The atmosphere in the garage lightened considerably.
"Say, pard, is that what you've been so upset about lately?" asked Buck, surprised.
Chris grinned. "JD, I want you to take Paddy over there and give him a full report on what happened here."
JD looked slightly bewildered, but nodded.
"But... I thought... you didn't do that sort of thing?" said Paddy, confused.
"Ah, what the hell. You're a friend!"
"I thought you said no exceptions for friends?"
Chris's grin dimmed ever so slightly. "Do you want the scoop or not?"
"Yes, of course!"
An ambulance pulled up on the far side of the garage. Two paramedics jumped out and started toward the group of men.
"While you're in a good mood..." said Paddy, slowly, "I've been thinking. I've kind of always been interested in law enforcement... I've been thinking of joining up... maybe I could even be on your team!"
"The Magnificent... Eight?" Buck said, doubtfully.
"Sorry, Paddy, you just have the wrong kind of name," said Chris.
Paddy shrugged philosophically and dragged JD off to a quiet corner for his interview.
Vin, Josiah, Nathan and Ezra walked off to meet the arriving cops, to explain the situation.
The paramedics approached cautiously. They were well acquainted with Chris Larabee and his team, and were well aware of the "woe to anyone who caused them pain when they were in a position to fight back" policy. Buck smiled encouragingly and beckoned them over.
Chris kept grinning. His ankle was agony, he had a headache from clenching his teeth so hard, and, despite what he'd said, his arm hurt like hell, but he hadn't been this happy in a long, long time.
"Pard," he said to Buck.
"Buddy," Buck replied.
"Amigo."
"Pal."
"Compadre."
"Chum."
"Acquaintance," said Chris, desperately.
"Friend," said Buck, laughing, admitting defeat. He was surprised. Chris hadn't played this game with him in over ten years.
Chris laughed triumphantly, then winced as the medic prodded his ankle.
"What the hell was that for?" he yelped.
"I'm trying to see it it's broken," said the medic fearfully.
"Of course it's fucking broken, I don't need you causing me more agony to tell me that!"
The medic gulped, but Chris was in too good a mood to kill him. He sighed and motioned wearily for him to continue.
"Don't worry, pal o' mine," said Buck. "I'm gonna stay right here and make sure they're real gentle with you — I say, is that young officer over there making eyes at me?"
"I believe she is," said Chris.
"Well. If it's all right with you... I'll be right back, I just have to get her number..."
Buck headed for the pretty young cop, who was indeed making eyes at him, with a very familiar look in his eye.
"Stupid bastard," muttered Chris, affectionately, and smiled.
The End
Feedback to Author