The Bolt from the Blue (Working Title)

Chapter 12- The Moving Out Party

Chapter 12- The Moving Out Party

"I'm sending you to therapy."

John hadn't even had time to shut the door behind him; Lorna stood behind her desk, tapping delicately at her keyboard. He tried to think of an argument- none came to him.

"I wanted to do this months ago," she continued, "but the higher-ups said you weren't showing quite enough signs of mental ill-health. I imagine verbally assaulting a fellow officer in full view of everyone will put you over the edge."

John stood silent in the doorway; there was nothing to say.

"I'm going to pull Daria from field duty early." She was still talking as thought discussing her plans to repaint the kitchen.

"How early?"

"Today. You clearly can't be trusted around her and you're a more useful asset in emergencies."

"Why not just fire me?" The words came out of his mouth without his brain considering whether or not they were strictly wise.

Lorna tapped absent-mindedly on her keyboard, "Because I loved Benji too." John had never heard her use such a strong word- and about a person to boot. He wondered if Lorna had ever felt any other emotions. She continued, "You'll be gone soon, John, and I won't be able to help you anymore. But until then, I'm going to do everything in my power to undo the damage that bitch wrought on us all."

For a second, he thought Lorna meant Daria and then he realised she was referring to Veronica. He was suddenly filled with a burning desire to know where she was. Lorna looked him in the eye and said simply, "Classified."

"Shouldn't she be in custody?"

"She is. It's complicated, John. But she'll be taken care of."

He let it go. "What do you want me to do for the rest of the day?"

"Go back to your desk and sit in ignominy. And then this evening buy poor Daria some flowers and apologise."

"No." He had to resist the urge to stomp his foot like a child.

"Fine. Let baseless anger rule your life," she pointed up at the clock above her head, "But until half five you're mine and I'm telling you to return to your desk and feel awful."

"Yes, ma'am." He left the room and turned down the corridor, feeling all eyes on him as he slumped down at his desk and tried very hard to stare at his computer screen and not burst into hives from embarrassment.

At quarter to five, Alex sidled up to his desk, "You doing okay?"

"Haven't verbally abused someone in two hours, so that's progress" He looked up at her, "How much does everyone hate me right now?"

"You could've picked a less beloved target." John put his head in hands and started rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palm, "She's the one who always brings in cake."

"Oh, fuck." He didn't say it particularly loudly but still several people gasped- he was clearly in the doghouse. He lowered his voice, so quiet Alex almost couldn't hear, "She let Benji die."

Alex slammed a hand down on his desk, "She did not!" People weren't even pretending not to look at this point. "She did her job, John; what happened was-" She took a sharp breath, "And what did you do?"

John knew what was coming, he turned his head and stared straight into middle distance, bracing himself against the words.

"Why didn't you try that trick with the water on them? Huh?"