[October 8th] [Perry Mason] Do the Words I Say Ever Make It Through?, 4

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

Title: Do the Words I Say Ever Make It Through?, part 4
Day/Theme: October 8th - Even if it costs my life
Series: Perry Mason
Character/Pairing: Paul Drake, Lieutenant Drumm
Rating: T/PG-13

Cross-posted to octoberwriting.


By Lucky_Ladybug

Paul was worried as he watched Steve.

They had ended up chasing a suspect together that they each wanted to talk to, and by now they had tracked him out to an old, abandoned house near the waterfront. The man was described as being armed and dangerous and quite possibly insane. That did not sit well with Steve.

Paul could tell by the way Steve deliberately advanced under the shadows of the house, by the way his dark eyes were set and cold instead of warm and friendly, by the way he gripped his gun, as though not only his life depended on it, but as though the hatred boiling inside his heart had to come out somehow, someway, and was just about to the breaking point.

Steve was usually good at hiding his feelings on the job. He wore the mask of a hardboiled cop, tough and untouchable—unless either something happened that brought out his gentler side or unless his heart was broken and his ire aroused.

Paul had seen the latter happen when a policeman had been brutally murdered at an art gallery. Steve had lost full sight of reality and other suspects, instead zeroing in on the man he believed guilty and trying at every turn to prove his guilt. It had taken Perry’s solving of the case and his subsequent prodding and prompting of Steve in court to bring him around and realize what had really been happening and who had really been pulling the strings.

Steve had been mostly in control of himself since then. Even after Andy’s death, Steve had not given in to his feelings as he had done in the past. But he had grown more serious and withdrawn, trying to be strong for everyone as well as for himself. It was only now, when he was after a madman perhaps similar to the one who had been responsible for Andy’s demise, that Paul saw some of the pent-up anger and hurt coming out.

He reached out, grasping Steve’s shoulder. Steve nearly started out of his mind. He whirled, gun cocked, until he saw it was Paul. He lowered the weapon with a frustrated sigh. Paul tried to relax his tense muscles.

“Paul, don’t do that again,” Steve ordered. “You shouldn’t even be here. This is police work.”

“And with Sergeant Brice off chasing this guy’s partner, you’d be all alone if it wasn’t for me being here,” Paul returned. “Steve, you’ve got to calm down. You’re wound up in knots because of this guy. He could kill you before you’d even know it. Please, just remember—he’s not Andy’s killer.”

Something flickered in Steve’s eyes, but only for a moment. “I know.” He turned away, slipping under the overhanging roof.

“I’m not sure you do,” Paul countered as he followed. “You want to take your anger out on someone. And another nut capable of murdering innocent people is the perfect choice. Yeah, this guy’s rotten, if he’s everything the report says he is. But losing one police officer to a creep like him is one too many. Steve . . .” He grabbed Steve’s arm this time. “I don’t want to lose another one.” His voice lowered. “I don’t want to lose another friend.”

That got through. Steve turned again, something different in his eyes. Now he was silently pleading for Paul to leave. “I don’t want to, either,” he said quietly. “Especially if it’s something I could have prevented. Paul, please . . .”

“I’m not going to leave you alone until I’m sure you can handle this guy without going off the deep end,” Paul retorted. But he looked down in resignation, the look in Steve’s eyes haunting him. “. . . But I’ll stay back unless you need help.”

Steve sighed. It was probably the best that could be done for now, and he knew it. “Alright,” he conceded.

They made their way into the house, still keeping to the shadows. The suspect could be hiding anywhere, including up in the rafters above them. Steve focused on them, while at the same time trying to stay alert for anything that might come out at them from the various nooks and crannies and any remaining rooms. Paul kept his main attention on the floor.

Without warning a bullet sailed past them from above. Steve immediately dove into action, going on the defensive as he pointed his gun towards the catwalk. In the near-darkness of the building, he could barely make out the gleam of another gun.

“You’re not taking me, cop,” a desperate and ragged voice called out.

“I will if you’re guilty, and right now you’re not doing anything to help me feel that you’re not,” Steve retorted. “If you keep firing, I’ll be forced to fire back. Do you want to die? There’s no way you’d survive the fall from up there, even if I didn’t hit you in a fatal spot.”

“I don’t care. Give it your best try.”

Steve straightened, the anger beginning to rage in his eyes again. “So you’re just going to let yourself be killed when you don’t have to be?” he snarled. “Why does trash like you stay alive to throw your life away while decent people are killed when they want to live?”

“Maybe because decent people are trying to stop ‘trash like me,’ and that kind of thing never goes well.” The suspect trained his gun on Steve but still did not fire. “Did you lose someone, cop? Someone I was supposed to have killed?”

Steve drew a shaking breath. “No,” he said. “Not someone you killed.”

Paul came forward now, keeping a firm grip on his gun in case he would need it. “Lieutenant Drumm’s right, though,” he said. “What’s the matter with you? You haven’t even said if you’re guilty or not. And if you’re not, I have a lawyer friend who can help you!”

The man grinned, his white teeth visible against the shadows. “I am guilty, though. I’ll freely admit it. I killed those people. And I’ll kill both of you, too.”

Steve swore under his breath. “Paul, stand back,” he ordered.

“How nice,” the murderer sneered. “Protecting your friend, cop? Did you lose a friend before because you weren’t so quick on the uptake?”

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “No,” he retorted. “Because I wasn’t there.”

The explosion resounded throughout the old house. Paul fell back, his heart racing. Who had fired? For a split-second, he wasn’t even sure.

The body slipped from the rafters, crashing in a sickening heap on the rotting floor. The sound of his neck snapping was clearly audible. At the same moment, Steve doubled over in pain, clutching his side.

Paul snapped to attention. “Steve!” he cried, rushing to his friend’s side.

Steve looked up at him, his eyes bleary. “You’d have been dead if I’d been a second slower,” he rasped, the horror in his eyes and his voice.

“You’d be dead too,” Paul exclaimed. “You both fired at the same time!”

Steve shook his head. “It just grazed me. There’s a first-aid kit in the car.” He tried to straighten but stumbled.

Paul got on Steve’s uninjured side. “I’ll help you out there.”

Steve slipped his gun back into its holster and leaned on Paul for support. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “I was thinking of that guy as Andy’s murderer. I hated that he was already dead and I couldn’t get him for killing Andy. And when this nutcase showed up, well . . . I had to get in on that. I couldn’t let someone else take this case, after what Andy’s killer did.” He drew a shaking sigh. “I would have killed in hate if you hadn’t talked to me before we met up with him.”

“I don’t know about that,” Paul said as they started to walk. “You’re a strong guy, Steve.”

“Not always when it counts.”

“Hey.” Paul looked at him. “You’ve been keeping it together. You learned from what happened that other time. Not everyone could do that.”

“I’m not sure how much longer I can, either.” Steve’s voice thickened. “I keep thinking maybe I could have saved him, if I’d been there.”

“The only way you could have saved him would have been if you’d been killed in his place,” Paul said. “And that wouldn’t have been any better.”

Steve drew a shaking breath. “I know.”

“Tragg wouldn’t have wanted that.”

“I know that too. And neither would I.” Steve sighed, gazing hopelessly into the oncoming autumn twilight. “I just wish . . .”

“I know,” Paul said softly. “Me too.” We wish Andy hadn’t died.

Or that we had him back.