“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Senior Inspector Lyall was my first visitor when I awoke. He was disheveled, his hair uncombed and face unshaven. If not for the damage to my lung, I would be mocking him. He shouldn’t offer himself up in a way that is so easy to make fun of. “You were told to wait—” 

“I thought you weren’t coming,” I replied. “You don’t even like me, Lyall. You could have let me die there and I would have been out of your hair.” 

“You think I would go so far as to let your prissy ass die?” his eyes narrowed into slits and his lip curled into a snarl. “You’re an annoying prick but I’m not letting you go off and get yourself killed on a suicide mission just because you lost your cushy job as a sub-captain.” 

“I—” 

“No, you listen to me,” he said, striding up to my bedside. “Do you really think I didn’t do research into you? I’m a detective, kid. I could tell from the moment you stepped into the office that you shouldn’t be here. You aren’t ready to be a cop because you’re too busy chasing your own death. I was trying to get you to quit before you went off and got yourself killed but obviously, I failed.” 

“Senior—" 

“It wasn’t your fault,” he stated, voice suddenly soft. Silence filled the room for a moment and I looked away from him, unable to face the sympathy in his gaze. He knew. He knew because he felt the same. The look in his eyes matched my own in a disgusting reflection. “You shouldn’t carry those ghosts around with you like a burden. I’m sure that isn’t what he would want, is it?” 

He paused for a moment, waiting for me to respond. I kept my mouth shut. 

“You’re obviously a danger to yourself and need constant supervision,” he put a hand on my shoulder. “I still think you’re an annoying prick, but I think the best way to annoy the shit out of you would be to keep you alive.” 

~*~ 

The wooden chair creaked angrily under me, threatening to break with the slightest wrong shift in pressure. It was on its last legs in the most literal of senses. Each time it creaked, Senior Inspector Lyall looked up from the files he was reviewing at his nicely polished desk, a smirk spreading on his face. He had taken the chair from storage after ‘accidentally’ breaking the chair that was originally at my desk while I was in the hospital. It smelled of must and mildew, the wood rotting away from the damp atmosphere of the sub-basement. 

I shifted the worries about my impending crash to the floor to the back of my mind, picking up my most recent case file to type up a report. Captain Doyle had restricted me to desk duty after the incident, leaving Senior Inspector Lyall to pursue the mugging case. He had worn the most satisfied expression I had ever seen after Captain Doyle’s rather loud tirade about caring for my own safety. 

He was taking advantage of my situation due to being the worst partner in existence and all. He propped his muddy boots up on his desk, pulling a cigarette out of the pack in his breast pocket and lighting it with his silver lighter. 

The harsh tang of smoke filled the room, burning my nose. He would get scolded later but Captain Doyle was currently out of office so he could do as he pleased. It was silent aside from the clicking of the typewriter. Outside the doors, there was the faint sound of conversation and footsteps. This late in the day, with the sun painting the room with golden orange light through the windows, few people were coming into this area of the building.  

Lyall began singing a drunken shanty, loud and brash into the quiet of the room. He sounded like an out-of-tune trumpet, voice ricocheting off the stone walls. It increased the beginnings of a pounding headache forming near my temples. 

I tried to focus, doing a quick read-through of the notes in the case file to compose a proper report. The heavy oak door of the room lurched open, letting in the noise of a wailing woman coming from the special victim’s unit down the hall. Dr. Raumere stepped into the room, placing a mug of coffee on my desk. The bitter smell counteracted that of the cigarette smoke which would quickly be dissipating due to the doctor ripping the cigarette out of Lyall’s mouth. He went on a swift tirade about the dangers of such things, voice soft and even as he tore into the man. 

I took a sip of my coffee before I began typing up my report, working quickly so that I would be able to escape the irritant that was my partner. The sun had nearly set outside the large glass windows. It left only the soft yellow light of our desk lamps illuminating the room. Senior Inspector Lyall decided to lean back in his wooden swivel chair, arms crossed, and eyes closed. He began to snore, head leaned back so far that he would have a horrible crick in his neck when he woke. Of course, I wasn’t going to wake him to prevent that. 

I stood, banging my knees against my cramped desk that sat far too low to the ground for my stature. My chair gave one last creak, rocking back and forth slightly on its loose legs. Walking over to his desk, I picked up his case notes and read through his recent investigation. 

Inside the folder were the two preliminary sketches I made of the perpetrators; a name written underneath one. His writing was chicken scratch, making his notes and written reports impossible to read. I set the folder back down on his desk and kicked the chair out from under Senior Inspector Lyall. He crashed to the floor, letting out a yelp. 

“Who the—” 

“Learn to use a typewriter, Lyall,” I said. “Your handwriting is shit.” 

“Not all of us got calligraphy lessons as children,” he replied, a smirk spreading across his face. “Your handwriting is as frilly and overly dramatic as you are.” 

“And yours is as simple and uselessly vague as you are,” I said, walking out of the office. I couldn’t help the way the corners of my lips pulled up as I walked out the door. 

It was an arduous trek back to the ground floor down the steep, narrow stairwells. The receptionist waved a slight goodbye to me as she chattered on the phone, and I nodded my head in return. Stepping into the night, I let the calm wash over me as I headed home.