"Reward" DVD commentary
Ask, and ye shall receive,
oddmonster. Written at lunch today at work.
Reward DVD Commentary
This was written almost immediately after the first time I watched "Milk Run." I'm not sure what it was that so effected me about this episode. It was really that end scene, the power in Don Johnson's response, and the writing and directing that would stand back and let that happen. Most shows, given this same set up, would have had the main characters brush off the death, maybe be a little teary-eyed or swear revenge. This one just let the characters react naturally - in other words, not do anything, in that moment. Sonny just sat there, his hands dangling, without words. I've rarely seen such a good portrayal of shock. It was such an unexpectedly realistic, non-macho reaction, it stuck with me.
I was also struck by Rico's reaction - gauging his partner and knowing him well enough to just sit next to him and be with him - not try to get him to talk, not try and hussle him away from the scene - just be there. Philip Michael Thomas, who I've always thought of as a weaker actor than Don Johnson, did a great, restrained job here. He looked uncertain, a little awkward, but never less than caring and worried for his partner.
So, somehow that got me thinking about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and what it would be like to be a cop seeing this kind of thing over and over, after having served in combat as a young man. I've read statistics that a huge percentage of combat troops experience at least some PTSD effects afterwards, far higher than I'd expected. And Sonny, for all his macho posturing, is consistently shown to be a passionate, caring, very emotional guy. Plus, I'm an angstwhore. It seemed like a natural match, Sonny and PTSD. So I was thinking about that, and how after so many violent scenes what was it about this one that triggered the reaction we saw in Sonny at the end of "Milk Run" - why couldn't he cope with this one the way he'd been able to in the past? And I noticed the ages of the kids he was supposed to be protecting, combined with the fact that if I follow the (somewhat messy and contradictory) canon, Sonny would have been older than most of the soldiers in Vietnam - the average age of troops was somewhere around nineteen.
Reward
Rico was still sitting next to his partner when he heard Castillo's low voice question one of the uniforms. He turned and the lieutenant caught his eye.
"I'll be right back," he said to the silent man beside him. Sonny didn't even look up.
Lt. Castillo waited by the door. He was studying Sonny's bowed back with that piercing look that meant he knew the score without being told. Rico bit down on a sudden surge of anger and waited for Castillo to acknowledge him.
Of course Castillo would need to make an appearance. I love Castillo. I love the way it's always clear that he knows exactly what's going down without anyone saying a word, without him having to ask any questions. He just observes. And I sensed some tension between Castillo and Tubbs in the early episodes - Tubbs really didn't get Castillo at all, didn't get his motivations, so I had to feed a bit of that frustration into this scene. Tubbs seems to find it hard to trust Castillo's reticence; he seems to feel like Castillo is hiding something. Which, of course, he is; but that doesn't mean you can't trust him - that's what Crockett gets that Tubbs doesn't get, at first.
"Make sure he gets home," Castillo said, eyes never leaving Sonny. "Don't leave him alone until your sure he's okay."
"Lieutenant-"
Castillo glanced at Rico sidelong. "There's a restroom across the hall. Get him cleaned up before you take him outside. Switek has a car waiting in the back."
I liked trying to show that Castillo had already figured it all out and did what needed to be done, all without having talked to either Tubbs or Crockett.
Rico sighed. The man never gave an inch. "There press out front?"
Castillo nodded. "File your reports tomorrow. I don't want to see either of you before noon." He looked like he wanted to say more. Rico waited but nothing came until he started to go back to his partner.
"Rico," Castillo rubbed his eyes. "Call me if he gives you any trouble."
And since I was trying to set up a PTSD reaction, of course Castillo would have anticipated that. He's been in combat; Rico hasn't. Rico doesn't have much experience at all with this kind of thing; but Castillo would know that Sonny was bound to react better to his partner than his boss.
Now what the hell did that mean? Rico shook his head and picked his way through the broken glass to where Sonny sat. Rico crouched down, taking it slow, nervous without quite knowing why. What had rattled Sonny about this one? Things had gone bad before, and he hadn't blinked. Now, it was like he was drifting away inside himself. The anguish had left Sonny's face, leaving him washed out and blank in the flourescent light.
"Sonny."
His partner just sat, staring into nothing. "Sonny, man. Let's get out of here."
When he still got no reaction, Rico nudged his shoulder. Sonny flinched, hard, and sucked in a breath. His head came up, eyes wide and startled.
"Let's go, partner." Rico repeated gently.
Sonny blinked, then looked down at his bloody hands.
"The choppers here?"
"No, Sonny. It's time to go home." Rico's throat clenched. Choppers? What the hell was he talking about?
And I didn't want to go over the top with the PTSD thing. I wanted it to be self-contained, so that if you didn't look twice at Sonny you wouldn't necessarily catch on that he was having problems. More a momentary confusion than a full-fledged flashback. I'd get to that later, when I wrote "Night Watch." Again, because I'm an angstwhore. I also have to admit that I was influenced by a film Don Johnson did in the 80's where he was a vet having (more violent) PTSD problems. It was a bit of an after-school special in tone, but honestly written and well acted, even if the ending sort of tied everything in neat bows. I also did a little research on PTSD and Vietnam around this time period, mostly concentrating on some personal stories I found on the internet from the vets about how it felt. The bedroom scene in "Night Watch" was inspired by one such narrative, where a vet admitted that he would go "on patrol" through the house at night while his kids were sleeping. Sorry. I digress.
"Yeah. Okay."
Rico helped him stand. Castillo was watching them, watching Sonny, real close. Call me if he gives you any trouble. Yeah. Right.
In the men's room Rico had to lead him to the sink like he was a kid. Once there, Sonny seemed to get the idea. He washed up his hands, stripped off the stained jacket and dropped it to the floor. Braced both hands on the basin, head down, his face hidden.
"The kid get on the plane?"
Rico leaned against the wall next to the sink. Tried to remember which kid they were talking about. Right. The one who hadn't got blown away.
"Yeah. Back to Alphaville."
"Safe and sound," Sonny muttered. "Castillo got you on guard duty?"
And I could see Sonny not being a happy camper once he realized that he'd been exposed this way. Especially if he wasn't altogether certain of what he'd said and done for a few minutes. I certainly wouldn't. And Sonny's quicker than Rico to pick up on some of the interpersonal things, so he'd have figured out that Castillo was involved.
Rico ignored the question and Sonny let it drop.
Which is where Rico is smarter than Sonny. Rico knows when to push and when not to push, most of the time.
"Comeon. I'm beat." Rico pushed off from the wall. "Stan's got a car out back."
Rico, normalizing things. Or trying to.
"Lucky me," Sonny straightened. When he turned his face was hard, his voice dripping with contempt. "Full service escort."
And Sonny, not playing along. How do we cover perceived weakness in ourselves? Many of us go on the attack. Sometimes we don't even realize we're doing it. I wasn't sure whether this was in character or not; but Sonny seems reluctant to share personal things right away (see "Evan") so I thought it worked.
Rico kept his face impassive. He knew the signs. Sonny was trying to pick a fight. Another time, he might have obliged. But tonight there was a smear of dried blood on Sonny's neck and his hands were shaking ever so slightly. And he was so far gone he hadn't even noticed. He still had a grip on normal, but if he held on any tighter he'd strangle it dead.
Rico just nodded and left the room, knowing Sonny would follow.
"They were only kids."
Rico let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding when Sonny finally decided to speak. The ride back to the marina had been one drawn-out, brittle silence.
"Yeah."
He stretched out his legs, propped himself up against the side of the boat. Sonny was perched a few feet away, a half empty bottle of Jack sitting by his bare feet, Elvis muttering to himself at his back. Just how drunk should he let his partner get? Rico picked at the label on his own bottle of beer and waited. He wanted to say that the kids had known they were getting into a risky deal, but that wasn't something Sonny needed to hear. Not like he didn't know it already.
The other thing I've noted is that Rico tends to be able to be more detached than Sonny much of the time. I wouldn't say he cares less; just that he's better at not getting emotionally involved.
Sonny wasn't looking at him. Seemed to be having a hard time meeting his eyes.
"Sorry about losing it back at the airport."
Rico took a long swig of beer. "You didn't lose it, man. That kid got blasted away in front of you."
Another one of those long silences.
"You don't understand, Rico." Sonny's words were low and hoarse when they came.
"Maybe, maybe not."
I'm still not sure about that response. It seems awkward. I was trying to have Rico leave an opening for Sonny but remain a bit noncommittal on the surface.
Elvis rumbled and Sonny absently tossed a hunk of frozen fish from the cooler at him.
Couldn't resist letting Elvis make an appearance.
"For a few minutes..." Sonny shook his head. Started over. "In Nam I was the oldest guy in my platoon."
Rico gave him some time, but his partner didn't continue.
"How old were you - twenty two?" he prodded.
Sonny smirked, but his gaze was still far away.
"I was twenty-five when I was discharged."
Again, silly canon is a bit unclear here. I'm assuming Sonny is about the same age as Don Johnson, since I don't think we're explicitly told how old he is. According to "Back in the World" he was present at the fall of Saigon in 1975 so that would make him about twenty five; though why he was still there at the fall is wobbly since from what I've read the only US forces still there at the time were the marines guarding the embassy; I could be wrong, I haven't done in-depth research. Plus, that's a whole other issue.
"An old man," Rico laughed.
"Sure felt like it."
The St. Vitus' Dance rocked against the light lap of the waves. For the first time Rico felt the place where the war had made a gap between them before they'd even met. He'd pulled a lucky number and never thought much about it. Sonny though - he carried the war with him, though like most vets Rico knew he didn't talk about it much.
A bit of telling instead of showing here. It was difficult to express indirectly. I see this as a fundamental difference between the characters - again, we're not told how old Rico is; I've always assumed he's about the same age as Sonny (Philip Michael Thomas and Don Johnson were born the same year) however there are some cues that Rico might be younger - he seems to have still been a beat cop when he arrived in Miami (though this is unclear too) and the novelization of the pilot episode places him much younger - he has his first on-duty killing in Miami. I don't see this in the show at all, though. Rico isn't shown as much less experienced than Sonny, though his interest in the club scene in the early seasons reads as younger.
Sonny downed more bourbon. The gator smacked away at his fish. And Rico waited.
"Most of the guys were eighteen or nineteen. Farm kids, or punks from the inner city. Barely outta high school. They needed somebody to look up to. That ended up bein me."
I would totally add a "g" to that "bein" if I were editing this today.
And knowing Sonny, he'd taken that to heart.
"Anyway. We got pinned down, out in the jungle. It was a bad situation and I made a bad call. Wasn't nothin I could do, we were gettin picked off."
Again with the annoying lack of a "g." It's too cutsy, like when Highlander writers have Duncan say "yew" instead of "you."
"What happened?"
"They were so scared. The brass said it was too hot to get medics to us." Sonny closed his eyes, the words coming out in hard bursts. "So we had to hunker down there in the rain, while my men died."
"What did you do?"
"Told them it would be okay, that we'd all get outta there somehow. I knew it was a lie."
Yeah, they both knew too much about hard truths. Sonny had just learned a little earlier than most. Rico drained his beer and set the empty aside.
"Eventually the choppers came. Seven guys were dead, most of the rest were pretty beat up." He covered his eyes with one hand. "I led those kids to their graves and the army gave me a medal for it. My reward. For a job well done."
Funny how often in canon we get true confessions time from Sonny, but never (?) from Rico. Anyway. Maybe Sonny is a bit of a machoist. Or maybe I'm a sadist, because I like to poke at him with sharp sticks to see what he'll do.
This line, and the title, were kind of inspired by the fact that the title of the episode - "Milk Run" refers to the fact that Castillo had given them what was essentially babysitting duty that backfired horribly - what was supposed to be something easy (as a reward for the earlier bust, I think? Or to get them out of Castillo's hair - I don't remember the context right now) turns tragic. Not exactly the same as Crockett getting a medal for something he sees as painful; in fact kind of the reverse mirror image (!). But that's where my thinking started.
Also, I was intrigued by the medals shown in "Back in the World" - the purple heart, the bronze and silver stars. I wondered what the stories behind them were.
I take that back. I don't think I'd seen "Back in the World" yet when I wrote this; so the whole medal thing was a nifty coincidence. I do think I'd done some checking on Sonny's Vietnam timeline though, and come up rather confused about the whole thing. Sometimes you have to just make do with ambiguity in canon and run with it.
Rico didn't ask if he'd been wounded. Didn't need to.
"They send you home after that?"
"They'd invested too much time in me. On my second tour I went to sniper school."
This, I made up outta whole cloth. There is actually an army sniper school, and Sonny's shown to be a good marksman.
"They have a school for that?"
"What, you think people are born knowing how? Yeah, there's a school."
And didn't that explain a lot. Rico tipped his head back, trying to remember what he'd been doing in his early twenties. Partying hard, probably. It seemed like a long time ago.
"And tonight - at the airport?"
Sonny dropped his hand from his face and turned away, avoiding the question. He rummaged in the cooler and came up with two beers. Tossed one at Rico without bothering to make sure he'd catch it and cracked the cap off of the other.
"avoiding the question" is a bit redundant. I'd probably take it out now.
"Eddie remind you of one of your guys?" Rico knew he was pushing his partner, but Sonny needed to get this out before he got too wasted to remember what they were talking about. Which was exactly what he was aiming for, from the way he was drinking.
I dunno. Too much telling? This is internal dialogue, I guess. If I did it over I'd probably give more cues that Sonny was gradually getting wasted instead of just having Rico notice how much he was drinking.
"Not - not exactly." Sonny swallowed half the beer, then shot a narrow glance at Rico. Like he wasn't sure he could trust him.
Again with the redundant telling. Not sure the last sentance is necessary. when you're writing from a restricted third person POV, where you're in the head of one character only, it's a fine line between "telling" too much, and letting the character express his thoughts.
"Sonny," Rico sighed. "Whatever it is probably sounds worse in your head than it will out loud."
Elvis chose that moment to let out a funny little whine, if alligators were capable of whining. Sonny seemed to relax a bit, like the familiar sound had given him permission.
"Yeah. Okay. What I'm tryin to say is - at the airport, after Eddie died, there were a few minutes when I heard the choppers comin in again. That's all."
"You said something about a chopper, when Castillo sent me to get you outta there." Rico hid his frown behind the beer bottle.
"Shit. I did?" He didn't remember. Great.
"You're telling me what - you were back in the war? That you had a hallucination?"
I can see this freaking Tubbs a little, because he's so rational most of the time.
"They're called flashbacks, pal. Get your terminology straight." There was a defensive edge to Sonny's voice now. And Rico remembered the look on Castillo's face. He'd known. The lieutenant had taken one glance at Sonny and figured out what was going down. Don't leave until you make sure he's okay. Yeah. Thanks for the heads up, buddy.
"This ever happen before?" he asked finally.
Sonny flashed him that annoying expression, the one that meant what do you think, sucker? Then he relented.
"A coupla times, right after I got back. Been eight years or so."
Rico let that sink in. Lots of vets had problems once they got home. Some of them never made it back, still stuck in the war in their heads years later. Hell, he'd heard of cops who had the same problem.
"This gonna be an issue, Tubbs?"
"It gonna happen while we're under?" He felt like he was betraying their friendship a little for asking, but he had to know.
I dunno about this passage. again, seems dry, too much telling instead of showing.
Sonny's flinty mask dropped, leaving him raw and exposed.
"It hasn't so far," he said.
Great. Thanks for the reassurance. But he'd been the one to start with the blunt honesty, so he couldn't complain when Sonny gave him the truth.
"If Castillo knew, he'd stick me at a desk." Sonny turned away, toward the dark water and the lights that edged the marina. He wouldn't ask, Rico realized. Didn't know it didn't matter.
"I'm not gonna say anything," he said, "But I think he figured it out."
Sonny shot to his feet, didn't bother to hide the wobble. Stalked to the front of the boat and hurled his beer bottle out into the black. Rico didn't move.
See, this shows his drunken state much better than the endless observations from Rico that he's drinking. Wish I'd done more of it.
"That's just beautiful," Sonny growled. "He tell you to take me to the shrink?"
"What do you think?" Rico crossed his arms over his chest. "Castillo can be a real bastard, but he knows the game. He sends you to the shrink and they'll use it as an excuse. No, man. I doubt anyone else even noticed. It's gonna take more than you spacing out for a few minutes after what went down tonight for him to sideline you. He just said we should come in tomorrow afternoon and file our reports."
Sonny deflated, curled in on himself. He clung to the railing and watched the lights on the water for a long time. Rico left him alone. He remembered what it felt like to have blood on his hands, long after he'd scrubbed them clean.
A bit too vague for my tastes now. Wish I'd been more specific about whose blood.
"Rico?"
"Yeah?" He rubbed at his eyes, his limbs suddenly heavy. What a lightweight. He'd had two beers and he was melting into the deck.
"Thanks."
"No problem, man," he said, pulling out his worst rastafarian accent.
Couldn't help a dig at Tubbs' "island" accent.
"Rico?" Sonny turned back to him, leaning against the rail. He was wearing a tired grin. "Shut the hell up."
And for once I end a story on a light note! Mark this down; it'll probably never happen again!
Well, this was my first Vice story, and so I'm in a forgiving mood towards it.There was a lot of other stuff I noticed that I'd change now, but so it goes. I was still feeling out the characters, their speech patterns and personalities; and I hadn't seen all of the series yet either. I came to Vice from Highlander. It was a bit weird to write about mortals, after years of writing immortals. Not that they're that much different; but I had to remind myself that things are more immediate somehow for mortal characters, they can't afford to be as detached as Methos or as noble as MacLeod. Not that mortals can't be those things... I dunno. The Vice world is much more ambiguous than Highlander's - the moral lines fuzzier, the threat more immanent. Duncan MacLeod and Methos might live with the constant possibility of challenges, but their day to day lives are relatively calm when compared to two vice cops in the middle of a drug war.
On re-reading, I think I got the emotions mostly right; but I'd do the writing a bit different. Not drastically, just tweak some of the more anvilly internal dialogue, and maybe set the piece up a bit more for those who hadn't just watched the episode like I had when I wrote it.
oddmonster. Written at lunch today at work.
Reward DVD Commentary
This was written almost immediately after the first time I watched "Milk Run." I'm not sure what it was that so effected me about this episode. It was really that end scene, the power in Don Johnson's response, and the writing and directing that would stand back and let that happen. Most shows, given this same set up, would have had the main characters brush off the death, maybe be a little teary-eyed or swear revenge. This one just let the characters react naturally - in other words, not do anything, in that moment. Sonny just sat there, his hands dangling, without words. I've rarely seen such a good portrayal of shock. It was such an unexpectedly realistic, non-macho reaction, it stuck with me.
I was also struck by Rico's reaction - gauging his partner and knowing him well enough to just sit next to him and be with him - not try to get him to talk, not try and hussle him away from the scene - just be there. Philip Michael Thomas, who I've always thought of as a weaker actor than Don Johnson, did a great, restrained job here. He looked uncertain, a little awkward, but never less than caring and worried for his partner.
So, somehow that got me thinking about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and what it would be like to be a cop seeing this kind of thing over and over, after having served in combat as a young man. I've read statistics that a huge percentage of combat troops experience at least some PTSD effects afterwards, far higher than I'd expected. And Sonny, for all his macho posturing, is consistently shown to be a passionate, caring, very emotional guy. Plus, I'm an angstwhore. It seemed like a natural match, Sonny and PTSD. So I was thinking about that, and how after so many violent scenes what was it about this one that triggered the reaction we saw in Sonny at the end of "Milk Run" - why couldn't he cope with this one the way he'd been able to in the past? And I noticed the ages of the kids he was supposed to be protecting, combined with the fact that if I follow the (somewhat messy and contradictory) canon, Sonny would have been older than most of the soldiers in Vietnam - the average age of troops was somewhere around nineteen.
Reward
Rico was still sitting next to his partner when he heard Castillo's low voice question one of the uniforms. He turned and the lieutenant caught his eye.
"I'll be right back," he said to the silent man beside him. Sonny didn't even look up.
Lt. Castillo waited by the door. He was studying Sonny's bowed back with that piercing look that meant he knew the score without being told. Rico bit down on a sudden surge of anger and waited for Castillo to acknowledge him.
Of course Castillo would need to make an appearance. I love Castillo. I love the way it's always clear that he knows exactly what's going down without anyone saying a word, without him having to ask any questions. He just observes. And I sensed some tension between Castillo and Tubbs in the early episodes - Tubbs really didn't get Castillo at all, didn't get his motivations, so I had to feed a bit of that frustration into this scene. Tubbs seems to find it hard to trust Castillo's reticence; he seems to feel like Castillo is hiding something. Which, of course, he is; but that doesn't mean you can't trust him - that's what Crockett gets that Tubbs doesn't get, at first.
"Make sure he gets home," Castillo said, eyes never leaving Sonny. "Don't leave him alone until your sure he's okay."
"Lieutenant-"
Castillo glanced at Rico sidelong. "There's a restroom across the hall. Get him cleaned up before you take him outside. Switek has a car waiting in the back."
I liked trying to show that Castillo had already figured it all out and did what needed to be done, all without having talked to either Tubbs or Crockett.
Rico sighed. The man never gave an inch. "There press out front?"
Castillo nodded. "File your reports tomorrow. I don't want to see either of you before noon." He looked like he wanted to say more. Rico waited but nothing came until he started to go back to his partner.
"Rico," Castillo rubbed his eyes. "Call me if he gives you any trouble."
And since I was trying to set up a PTSD reaction, of course Castillo would have anticipated that. He's been in combat; Rico hasn't. Rico doesn't have much experience at all with this kind of thing; but Castillo would know that Sonny was bound to react better to his partner than his boss.
Now what the hell did that mean? Rico shook his head and picked his way through the broken glass to where Sonny sat. Rico crouched down, taking it slow, nervous without quite knowing why. What had rattled Sonny about this one? Things had gone bad before, and he hadn't blinked. Now, it was like he was drifting away inside himself. The anguish had left Sonny's face, leaving him washed out and blank in the flourescent light.
"Sonny."
His partner just sat, staring into nothing. "Sonny, man. Let's get out of here."
When he still got no reaction, Rico nudged his shoulder. Sonny flinched, hard, and sucked in a breath. His head came up, eyes wide and startled.
"Let's go, partner." Rico repeated gently.
Sonny blinked, then looked down at his bloody hands.
"The choppers here?"
"No, Sonny. It's time to go home." Rico's throat clenched. Choppers? What the hell was he talking about?
And I didn't want to go over the top with the PTSD thing. I wanted it to be self-contained, so that if you didn't look twice at Sonny you wouldn't necessarily catch on that he was having problems. More a momentary confusion than a full-fledged flashback. I'd get to that later, when I wrote "Night Watch." Again, because I'm an angstwhore. I also have to admit that I was influenced by a film Don Johnson did in the 80's where he was a vet having (more violent) PTSD problems. It was a bit of an after-school special in tone, but honestly written and well acted, even if the ending sort of tied everything in neat bows. I also did a little research on PTSD and Vietnam around this time period, mostly concentrating on some personal stories I found on the internet from the vets about how it felt. The bedroom scene in "Night Watch" was inspired by one such narrative, where a vet admitted that he would go "on patrol" through the house at night while his kids were sleeping. Sorry. I digress.
"Yeah. Okay."
Rico helped him stand. Castillo was watching them, watching Sonny, real close. Call me if he gives you any trouble. Yeah. Right.
In the men's room Rico had to lead him to the sink like he was a kid. Once there, Sonny seemed to get the idea. He washed up his hands, stripped off the stained jacket and dropped it to the floor. Braced both hands on the basin, head down, his face hidden.
"The kid get on the plane?"
Rico leaned against the wall next to the sink. Tried to remember which kid they were talking about. Right. The one who hadn't got blown away.
"Yeah. Back to Alphaville."
"Safe and sound," Sonny muttered. "Castillo got you on guard duty?"
And I could see Sonny not being a happy camper once he realized that he'd been exposed this way. Especially if he wasn't altogether certain of what he'd said and done for a few minutes. I certainly wouldn't. And Sonny's quicker than Rico to pick up on some of the interpersonal things, so he'd have figured out that Castillo was involved.
Rico ignored the question and Sonny let it drop.
Which is where Rico is smarter than Sonny. Rico knows when to push and when not to push, most of the time.
"Comeon. I'm beat." Rico pushed off from the wall. "Stan's got a car out back."
Rico, normalizing things. Or trying to.
"Lucky me," Sonny straightened. When he turned his face was hard, his voice dripping with contempt. "Full service escort."
And Sonny, not playing along. How do we cover perceived weakness in ourselves? Many of us go on the attack. Sometimes we don't even realize we're doing it. I wasn't sure whether this was in character or not; but Sonny seems reluctant to share personal things right away (see "Evan") so I thought it worked.
Rico kept his face impassive. He knew the signs. Sonny was trying to pick a fight. Another time, he might have obliged. But tonight there was a smear of dried blood on Sonny's neck and his hands were shaking ever so slightly. And he was so far gone he hadn't even noticed. He still had a grip on normal, but if he held on any tighter he'd strangle it dead.
Rico just nodded and left the room, knowing Sonny would follow.
"They were only kids."
Rico let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding when Sonny finally decided to speak. The ride back to the marina had been one drawn-out, brittle silence.
"Yeah."
He stretched out his legs, propped himself up against the side of the boat. Sonny was perched a few feet away, a half empty bottle of Jack sitting by his bare feet, Elvis muttering to himself at his back. Just how drunk should he let his partner get? Rico picked at the label on his own bottle of beer and waited. He wanted to say that the kids had known they were getting into a risky deal, but that wasn't something Sonny needed to hear. Not like he didn't know it already.
The other thing I've noted is that Rico tends to be able to be more detached than Sonny much of the time. I wouldn't say he cares less; just that he's better at not getting emotionally involved.
Sonny wasn't looking at him. Seemed to be having a hard time meeting his eyes.
"Sorry about losing it back at the airport."
Rico took a long swig of beer. "You didn't lose it, man. That kid got blasted away in front of you."
Another one of those long silences.
"You don't understand, Rico." Sonny's words were low and hoarse when they came.
"Maybe, maybe not."
I'm still not sure about that response. It seems awkward. I was trying to have Rico leave an opening for Sonny but remain a bit noncommittal on the surface.
Elvis rumbled and Sonny absently tossed a hunk of frozen fish from the cooler at him.
Couldn't resist letting Elvis make an appearance.
"For a few minutes..." Sonny shook his head. Started over. "In Nam I was the oldest guy in my platoon."
Rico gave him some time, but his partner didn't continue.
"How old were you - twenty two?" he prodded.
Sonny smirked, but his gaze was still far away.
"I was twenty-five when I was discharged."
Again, silly canon is a bit unclear here. I'm assuming Sonny is about the same age as Don Johnson, since I don't think we're explicitly told how old he is. According to "Back in the World" he was present at the fall of Saigon in 1975 so that would make him about twenty five; though why he was still there at the fall is wobbly since from what I've read the only US forces still there at the time were the marines guarding the embassy; I could be wrong, I haven't done in-depth research. Plus, that's a whole other issue.
"An old man," Rico laughed.
"Sure felt like it."
The St. Vitus' Dance rocked against the light lap of the waves. For the first time Rico felt the place where the war had made a gap between them before they'd even met. He'd pulled a lucky number and never thought much about it. Sonny though - he carried the war with him, though like most vets Rico knew he didn't talk about it much.
A bit of telling instead of showing here. It was difficult to express indirectly. I see this as a fundamental difference between the characters - again, we're not told how old Rico is; I've always assumed he's about the same age as Sonny (Philip Michael Thomas and Don Johnson were born the same year) however there are some cues that Rico might be younger - he seems to have still been a beat cop when he arrived in Miami (though this is unclear too) and the novelization of the pilot episode places him much younger - he has his first on-duty killing in Miami. I don't see this in the show at all, though. Rico isn't shown as much less experienced than Sonny, though his interest in the club scene in the early seasons reads as younger.
Sonny downed more bourbon. The gator smacked away at his fish. And Rico waited.
"Most of the guys were eighteen or nineteen. Farm kids, or punks from the inner city. Barely outta high school. They needed somebody to look up to. That ended up bein me."
I would totally add a "g" to that "bein" if I were editing this today.
And knowing Sonny, he'd taken that to heart.
"Anyway. We got pinned down, out in the jungle. It was a bad situation and I made a bad call. Wasn't nothin I could do, we were gettin picked off."
Again with the annoying lack of a "g." It's too cutsy, like when Highlander writers have Duncan say "yew" instead of "you."
"What happened?"
"They were so scared. The brass said it was too hot to get medics to us." Sonny closed his eyes, the words coming out in hard bursts. "So we had to hunker down there in the rain, while my men died."
"What did you do?"
"Told them it would be okay, that we'd all get outta there somehow. I knew it was a lie."
Yeah, they both knew too much about hard truths. Sonny had just learned a little earlier than most. Rico drained his beer and set the empty aside.
"Eventually the choppers came. Seven guys were dead, most of the rest were pretty beat up." He covered his eyes with one hand. "I led those kids to their graves and the army gave me a medal for it. My reward. For a job well done."
Funny how often in canon we get true confessions time from Sonny, but never (?) from Rico. Anyway. Maybe Sonny is a bit of a machoist. Or maybe I'm a sadist, because I like to poke at him with sharp sticks to see what he'll do.
This line, and the title, were kind of inspired by the fact that the title of the episode - "Milk Run" refers to the fact that Castillo had given them what was essentially babysitting duty that backfired horribly - what was supposed to be something easy (as a reward for the earlier bust, I think? Or to get them out of Castillo's hair - I don't remember the context right now) turns tragic. Not exactly the same as Crockett getting a medal for something he sees as painful; in fact kind of the reverse mirror image (!). But that's where my thinking started.
Also, I was intrigued by the medals shown in "Back in the World" - the purple heart, the bronze and silver stars. I wondered what the stories behind them were.
I take that back. I don't think I'd seen "Back in the World" yet when I wrote this; so the whole medal thing was a nifty coincidence. I do think I'd done some checking on Sonny's Vietnam timeline though, and come up rather confused about the whole thing. Sometimes you have to just make do with ambiguity in canon and run with it.
Rico didn't ask if he'd been wounded. Didn't need to.
"They send you home after that?"
"They'd invested too much time in me. On my second tour I went to sniper school."
This, I made up outta whole cloth. There is actually an army sniper school, and Sonny's shown to be a good marksman.
"They have a school for that?"
"What, you think people are born knowing how? Yeah, there's a school."
And didn't that explain a lot. Rico tipped his head back, trying to remember what he'd been doing in his early twenties. Partying hard, probably. It seemed like a long time ago.
"And tonight - at the airport?"
Sonny dropped his hand from his face and turned away, avoiding the question. He rummaged in the cooler and came up with two beers. Tossed one at Rico without bothering to make sure he'd catch it and cracked the cap off of the other.
"avoiding the question" is a bit redundant. I'd probably take it out now.
"Eddie remind you of one of your guys?" Rico knew he was pushing his partner, but Sonny needed to get this out before he got too wasted to remember what they were talking about. Which was exactly what he was aiming for, from the way he was drinking.
I dunno. Too much telling? This is internal dialogue, I guess. If I did it over I'd probably give more cues that Sonny was gradually getting wasted instead of just having Rico notice how much he was drinking.
"Not - not exactly." Sonny swallowed half the beer, then shot a narrow glance at Rico. Like he wasn't sure he could trust him.
Again with the redundant telling. Not sure the last sentance is necessary. when you're writing from a restricted third person POV, where you're in the head of one character only, it's a fine line between "telling" too much, and letting the character express his thoughts.
"Sonny," Rico sighed. "Whatever it is probably sounds worse in your head than it will out loud."
Elvis chose that moment to let out a funny little whine, if alligators were capable of whining. Sonny seemed to relax a bit, like the familiar sound had given him permission.
"Yeah. Okay. What I'm tryin to say is - at the airport, after Eddie died, there were a few minutes when I heard the choppers comin in again. That's all."
"You said something about a chopper, when Castillo sent me to get you outta there." Rico hid his frown behind the beer bottle.
"Shit. I did?" He didn't remember. Great.
"You're telling me what - you were back in the war? That you had a hallucination?"
I can see this freaking Tubbs a little, because he's so rational most of the time.
"They're called flashbacks, pal. Get your terminology straight." There was a defensive edge to Sonny's voice now. And Rico remembered the look on Castillo's face. He'd known. The lieutenant had taken one glance at Sonny and figured out what was going down. Don't leave until you make sure he's okay. Yeah. Thanks for the heads up, buddy.
"This ever happen before?" he asked finally.
Sonny flashed him that annoying expression, the one that meant what do you think, sucker? Then he relented.
"A coupla times, right after I got back. Been eight years or so."
Rico let that sink in. Lots of vets had problems once they got home. Some of them never made it back, still stuck in the war in their heads years later. Hell, he'd heard of cops who had the same problem.
"This gonna be an issue, Tubbs?"
"It gonna happen while we're under?" He felt like he was betraying their friendship a little for asking, but he had to know.
I dunno about this passage. again, seems dry, too much telling instead of showing.
Sonny's flinty mask dropped, leaving him raw and exposed.
"It hasn't so far," he said.
Great. Thanks for the reassurance. But he'd been the one to start with the blunt honesty, so he couldn't complain when Sonny gave him the truth.
"If Castillo knew, he'd stick me at a desk." Sonny turned away, toward the dark water and the lights that edged the marina. He wouldn't ask, Rico realized. Didn't know it didn't matter.
"I'm not gonna say anything," he said, "But I think he figured it out."
Sonny shot to his feet, didn't bother to hide the wobble. Stalked to the front of the boat and hurled his beer bottle out into the black. Rico didn't move.
See, this shows his drunken state much better than the endless observations from Rico that he's drinking. Wish I'd done more of it.
"That's just beautiful," Sonny growled. "He tell you to take me to the shrink?"
"What do you think?" Rico crossed his arms over his chest. "Castillo can be a real bastard, but he knows the game. He sends you to the shrink and they'll use it as an excuse. No, man. I doubt anyone else even noticed. It's gonna take more than you spacing out for a few minutes after what went down tonight for him to sideline you. He just said we should come in tomorrow afternoon and file our reports."
Sonny deflated, curled in on himself. He clung to the railing and watched the lights on the water for a long time. Rico left him alone. He remembered what it felt like to have blood on his hands, long after he'd scrubbed them clean.
A bit too vague for my tastes now. Wish I'd been more specific about whose blood.
"Rico?"
"Yeah?" He rubbed at his eyes, his limbs suddenly heavy. What a lightweight. He'd had two beers and he was melting into the deck.
"Thanks."
"No problem, man," he said, pulling out his worst rastafarian accent.
Couldn't help a dig at Tubbs' "island" accent.
"Rico?" Sonny turned back to him, leaning against the rail. He was wearing a tired grin. "Shut the hell up."
And for once I end a story on a light note! Mark this down; it'll probably never happen again!
Well, this was my first Vice story, and so I'm in a forgiving mood towards it.There was a lot of other stuff I noticed that I'd change now, but so it goes. I was still feeling out the characters, their speech patterns and personalities; and I hadn't seen all of the series yet either. I came to Vice from Highlander. It was a bit weird to write about mortals, after years of writing immortals. Not that they're that much different; but I had to remind myself that things are more immediate somehow for mortal characters, they can't afford to be as detached as Methos or as noble as MacLeod. Not that mortals can't be those things... I dunno. The Vice world is much more ambiguous than Highlander's - the moral lines fuzzier, the threat more immanent. Duncan MacLeod and Methos might live with the constant possibility of challenges, but their day to day lives are relatively calm when compared to two vice cops in the middle of a drug war.
On re-reading, I think I got the emotions mostly right; but I'd do the writing a bit different. Not drastically, just tweak some of the more anvilly internal dialogue, and maybe set the piece up a bit more for those who hadn't just watched the episode like I had when I wrote it.