In A Flash STANDARD DISCLAIMER: All characters in this story, with the exceptions of Allie Mitchell, Libby Walker and Rachael Kowalski are the property of Alliance Films and Paul Haggis. This story is written solely for the enjoyment of the readers--no copyright infringement intended. However, we ask that you don't use Rachael, Det. Mitchell, or Det. Walker in anything resembling slash. Thank you kindly! In a Flash By Black Magic Woman and Amaroq Wolf Series: SHAKING UP THE PRECINCT WARNING: Rated PG for instances of strong language. Authors' Note: It was brought to our attention that many slash readers were offended by a remark we put in the first installment of our series. We apologize for any wounded feelings it may have caused--we didn't proofread our story adequately prior to submitting it, and the remark was the product of a bad experience with slash in the middle of the night. As sick as it made us, censorship makes us even sicker. We therefore apologize for any offense caused, and whether or not you dig slash, we hope you enjoy this and future installments of our series. Thank you kindly! Author's Note 2: I apologize for any errors I made in the description of manic depression for all you psych students out there. --BMW __________________________________________________________________________ ____________________ "What 'Academy' are you talking about, Walker?" "What do you think I'm talking about?" "Well, half the stuff you talk about I don't even recognize!" "Well, tough toenails for you!" Detectives Raymond Vecchio and Elizabeth Walker were having it out in the bullpen at the 27th precinct. They were so loud that their shouts woke up a fellow detective, Stanley Raymond Kowalski, who was trying to sleep off the aftereffects of a long shift. The shouting even brought Lieutenant Harding Welsh out of his office. "What the hell is going on out here?" "How the hell should I know?" yelled Stanley. "I just woke up!" "And why were you sleeping in the first place?" "Long shift yesterday." Welsh turned on Ray and Walker. "What the hell are you two arguing about?" "Walker keeps telling stories about the Police Academy that I can't relate to!" Ray complained. "Well, has it occurred to you that maybe no two cops have the same experience in the Academy?" Welsh asked. "That's what I thought, but the Duck Boys don't know what she's talking about, either!" "And that means what?" Detective Allie Mitchell had joined in. "Maybe she underwent a different routine than you guys did." "The way she describes it--" "Save it, Vecchio. You better get on that case or the Commissioner is going to have a fit." Ray grimaced at the idea of the Commissioner chewing out the entire precinct for his negligence in solving a case. He shook his head and went back to work. Stanley looked at the clock on his desk, shook his head, and tried to go back to sleep. He was out in less than five minutes. Walker surveyed the scene, then shook her head and walked into the break room, where Mitchell was getting a cup of coffee. "What's up, Libby?" Mitchell asked upon noticing Walker's presence. "You saw everything," said Walker as she walked over to the pop machines, fed a dollar bill into the slot, punched in her selection, and waited. A bottle of juice rolled down with a clatter. Walker picked it up, retrieved her change, and joined Mitchell at one of the tables. "What were you two arguing about?" Mitchell's curiosity was roused. "Long story, and you wouldn't believe me if I told you." Walker opened her juice and drained half the bottle in two gulps. "Come on." Mitchell was adamant. "I won't tell." "We were fighting about the Police Academy." Walker took a sip of her juice before she continued. "Vecchio is totally lost as to what I went through in the Academy." She paused. "He thinks it's the Police Academy I'm talking about." "Is it?" "No." "Care to fill me in?" "You promise not to tell anyone?" "You have my word." "Okay." Walker took a deep breath. "Here goes..." ----- The insistent ringing of the phone brought Stanley out of his peaceful slumber. Just before he could grab the phone his answering machine picked it up. "You've reached Detective Kowalski in Violent Crimes. I'm not here, so leave a message." "Ray?" said a young female voice. "Ray, if you're there, please pick up!" The girl broke down sobbing. Kowalski grabbed the phone off the hook. "Detective Kowalski, how may I help you?" "Is that you, Ray?" "Who is this?" "This is Rachael Wilkes." The girl struggled to keep her panic in check. "I need you to help me." "The name sounds familiar to me." Something clicked in Stanley's mind. "Jenna's daughter?" "Yes, Ray." The girl was losing control. "Get over here, please!" "Rachael, what's the matter?" Stanley was suddenly uncomfortable. "What happened?" "She's dead, Ray! Mom's dead!" She broke up sobbing. The news hit Stanley like a semi. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. "Jenna? Gone?" "Yes, Ray." More sobbing. Stanley struggled to regain his voice. "How?" "Mycroft killed her. He didn't know I was there. I saw him do it!" The girl was in hysterics. "He's gonna kill me too, Ray!" Stanley set his feelings aside and took charge of the situation. "Where are you, Rachael?" "I'm here..." The girl stammered. "I'm here in Chicago." "Okay, where at in Chicago?" "On 5th street. Across from a Chicago Dough Company." "Okay." Stanley took a few deep breaths before continuing. "I know where that is. I've been there before. Stay there and don't move. I'll be there soon, okay?" "Just get here quick!" She killed the connection. Stanley dropped the phone. "Walker!" Walker was out of the break room in less than a minute. "What?" "Come on." "A case?" "Yeah." Stanley shuddered. ----- Stanley and Walker headed toward the 5th Street Chicago Dough Company in his black 1973 Pontiac GTO. Stanley's heart was pounding through his chest, and the sight of his uneasy state unnerved Walker. "Kowalski." "What?" "We're coming up on 5th Street. I see someone across from the place you mentioned." "Where?" "Near that phone booth." Stanley turned the car around the corner and saw someone standing by a phone booth. It was a girl. "I see her too," he said. He pulled up to the phone booth and stopped. "Rachael? Is that you?" "Yes," the girl stated. Walker got out of the car and took her hand. "Come on. Let's get you out of here." She opened the back door for Rachael. It was sick." "Why?" asked Dewey. "You wouldn't believe half the stuff they put in there. Mealybug lasagna, earthworm fettuccine, caterpillar tartare, wasp noodle soup, centipede en brochette--I was cracking up when I was done reading it." She paused to catch her breath. "They even had a chapter devoted to the art of wine selection. Let's see--according to those guys, one should never eat a bumblebee cocktail without a vintage Merlot, and...come on, what was the other one?" Walker thought for a minute. "Oh, yeah! My favorite! Deerflies for your Dearest! 'Boil a dozen deerflies in water for twenty minutes to get rid of contaminants and disease, then serve in a consomm bowl with a pinch of salt. Best enjoyed with a glass of Chardonnay.'" "Gee, I'm hungry," said Dewey. "What say we go out for some deerfly consomm, Jack?" "I'll stick to my donuts, thanks," said Huey. "It was intended to be a gag," said Walker. "After we got back from SERE, Gillespie called his parents and asked for a ton of junk food, and then he stashed it all over his side of the room when it arrived. Sullivan was hoarding cookies, drinks, and donuts outside Mitchell Hall for a month after we got back." She laughed a bit at this memory. "I remember gorging myself on salmon cakes, minestrone soup, French silk pie, and cheesecake when we returned to civilization, but those two guys took the trophy in the gastronomics division. I also remember Knickerson trying to steal a few donuts from Sullivan's stash. He nearly lost both his hands in the process." She was cut off by the ringing of Ray's cell phone. Ray picked it up. "What?...Oh, hey, Benny...Now?...What? Can't you tell me?...Oh, okay." He hung up. "What was that about?" asked Mitchell. "That was Benny," said Ray. "He wants me to come outside. He said he had a surprise for me." "I wonder what it could be." Rachael laughed a bit as everyone left the break room and headed outside the precinct. The six of them walked outside to the parking lot, but Fraser met them halfway there. "Hello, Ray," he said. "What's this big surprise?" Ray asked. "Follow me." The detectives followed Fraser into the parking lot. They were soon astonished by what lay before their eyes. "Well, Ray, what do you think?" said Fraser. The car he was leaning against was a 1971 green Buick Riviera. It looked exactly like the one that Fraser and Stanley had driven into Lake Michigan. Ray stood there staring. "But how...where...it..." he stammered. "It's yours." Fraser tossed him the keys. Ray barely managed to catch the keys as they flew through the air. He couldn't think of anything to say. That was, until Rachael broke up laughing at this point. "You knew about this, didn't you?" Rachael nodded. "Fraser told me two days ago," she said. That's why he went away for a week--he has a friend in Canada who deals in vintage cars." She paused. "I don't get why he got you the car, though." "Well," said Ray, "your father and Fraser burned my last one and drove it into Lake Michigan." "It was actually the arsonist who rigged it to catch fire," said Fraser. "So, I guess Fraser felt he owed you another one," said Rachael. "Yeah," said Ray. "I guess he did." He paused for a minute before turning to Stanley. "If anything causes this machine to blow up, I better be the one blowing it up, okay?" "Okay," said Stanley. "And don't even think of rigging my GTO to explode. Deal?" "Deal." THE END Copyright 1999 by Black Magic Woman and Amaroq Wolf ----------------------------------------------------------------------- All raves and flames are to be directed to black_magic_woman1981@yahoo.com and amaroqwolf82@yahoo.com--we await your feedback! (No otters, please!) Return to the Due South Fiction Archive