One Man
Title: One Man
Characters: Adam and Officer Barry McCullen, with Mac and Stella mentioned
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1402
Warnings: none
Summary: Adam reflects on the badge. Set during “Enough”.
Note: Officer Barry McCullen is a purely fan-made character who doesn’t exist in the show. You guys are free to use him if you like, just let me know (cuz I’d like to read it!).
What am I gonna do?
No matter how many times Adam pushed the thought away, it lingered in the back of his mind. He had tried to ignore it with work; that had failed miserably. He had tried to silence the voice with all of the cases that he had helped to crack, saying he was invaluable to the team; but it still whispered to him. He had even gone as far as to try to console himself, repeating over and over until it grew into a mantra, Mac will do right by me, Mac knows what to do…
But the thought remained and grew as he stood outside Mac’s office, listening to his boss’ argument with Stella over the budget.
What am I gonna do?
Adam didn’t have an answer; and now, he was sure that he was running out of time.
The wild-haired lab tech sat down on the locker room bench, directly in front of his locker, lost in thought. In his hands was an old, slightly tarnished Arizona police officer’s badge with the name “McCullen” engraved onto the top banner. Adam turned the badge over constantly in his hands, running his thumb over the lines and his eyes over the name. He thought of the man he always wished was his dad, but was forced to settle for “uncle”. A good man; a strong man; someone that inspired you to make him proud. Adam closed his eyes as the lines in the shield carried him back many years to the last time he saw his uncle…
“So, how’s that popsicle, kiddo?”
The twelve-year-old boy sized up the ridiculously red foot-long, supposedly cherry-flavored treat in front of him before taking a bite. His eyes squinted, briefly hiding the bright blue behind his freckles, as he calculated the actual sweetness with his expectations. After a moment, the wavy red head gave an approving nod.
“’ts not bad.” Adam replied.
Officer Barry McCullen tried his very best not to laugh at his nephew’s seriousness.
“Glad you approve,” he managed with a nod and a slightly strained smirk, “It’s a favorite of mine,” he continued as he took a bite out of his.
The pair was sitting outside on the curb of the local Thrifty’s store sharing a box of popsicles between them, which, considering the Arizona heat, was a rather risky thing to do. On the left was Adam Ross in a white and green stripped t-shirt, a little tall for his age and normally quiet. He was slimmer than most boys, and a little paler. The sleeve on his t-shirt just barely hid a golf ball-sized bruise on his left arm. On the right was his uncle, officer Barry McCullen, his mother’s brother. McCullen was 5’7”, easily the tallest in his family. He was in his late forties with slightly balding short dark red hair, a small, slowly growing belly that constantly reminded him to watch his diet, and a kind, sincere face that could smile in the worst circumstance. There were laugh wrinkles around his eyes and a light blanket of reddish stubble on his chin.
Both sat in silence for a moment, chewing their popsicles, one enjoying while the other analyzed.
Adam took a thoughtful bite out of his treat, chewing slowly. He looked up at his uncle.
“Uncle Barry?” he tentatively began, “you’ve been a cop for a long time, right?”
His uncle glanced at him, curious.
“Yeah. Been one for 23 years now.”
Adam swallowed, his eyes searching for the next sentence.
“And you’ve seen a lot of people…people kinda like my dad?”
The cop nodded; it was becoming much clearer.
“Can you tell me…tell me why?”
Uncle Barry cocked his head questioningly.
“Why what?”
Adam shifted uncomfortably on the curb.
“Well, you know…why they do the stuff that they do.”
Barry let out a sigh. Where to start?
“Adam, there are lots of reasons-of excuses-why people act like your dad,” he began, trying to be sensitive to the boy, “but, the important thing to always remember,” he cocked the twelve-year-olds’ head upwards, “is to not let him win. Do you understand?”
Adam turned away, frustration and anger creeping into his voice.
“How can I do that if I never win a fight? I’m not strong enough-“
“No, Adam, stop for a minute,” his uncle waved his hand to cut him off, ”I’m not talking about a fight. I’m talking about you.”
His nephew listened, confused.
“What I mean,” Uncle Barry went on, “what I mean is that you don’t listen to him. When he’s hurting you, telling you that you’re less than what you are, just let flow through the ears. Don’t believe any of that crap. I like to think that he’s jealous because you are in many ways a better man than him; and stronger,” here he was cut off by Adam’s incredulous stare, ”yeah, you heard me. You. Are. Stronger than your old man.”
Adam stared down at his sneakers.
“I don’t feel very strong,” he muttered as he tugged the left sleeve of his shirt down to better hide the bruise, “If I’m so strong,” the boy bit his lip, his eyes welling, “if I’m so strong, why can’t I make it stop? Why can’t I-“
Uncle Barry pulled his nephew to him in a warm embrace while the boy hid his face in the blue uniform, crying. He wasn’t uncomfortable; even big boys needed a shoulder to cry on every once in a while. Once the sobbings had subsided a bit, Uncle Barry pulled Adam away so that he could look him in the eye.
“Kiddo,” he gently began, “Adam. Being strong has nothing to do with forcing people to do things. That’s what bullies do; that’s what your dad does; and you’re not your dad, no sir. There are-there will be-times when you will have to fight, but strength is more than that. It’s walking away from a fight; it’s knowing when to say “no”; it’s standing up for those who can’t help themselves; it’s doing the right thing despite what others may say; it’s getting up after life hits you a hard one and moving forward and not backing down; it’s-“
An untimely squawking from the police radio interrupted Uncle Barry’s well-meaning monologue.
“Aw, nuts.”
He got up from the curb to his squad car and exchanged a few terse sentences with the radio before hooking it back onto its’ clip. Uncle Barry gave Adam an apologetic look.
“I gotta go; they need me over at the bank. So, do you understand what I was talking about?”
Adam slowly nodded.
“I think I kinda understand…I guess…yeah.”
His uncle reassuringly patted him on the shoulder.
“Well, I’m sure it’ll make sense later. I’ll see ya later, kiddo.”
Uncle Barry gave Adam a quick squeeze before heading to his squad car.
“Tell your mom I said hi,” he called out as he drove off, sirens blaring.
And that was the last time Adam saw Uncle Barry alive.
Officer Barry McCullen took a bullet to the thigh during a bank robbery gone bad on March 18, 1988. The bullet had severed a major artery in the leg. He bled out on the way to the hospital.
In a box of his belongings he had left behind his shield with a request that it be given to his nephew in the event of his death.
Adam remembered that day. He remembered the terrible conflict of emotions that happened in his heart as he cradled his uncle’s badge: sadness; anger; grief; pride. The same emotions rose again as bittersweet memories visited him. He remembered spending so many nights as a boy staring at it, memorizing every letter, every line in the picture. It was his comfort when he was lonely; his strength when he felt weak; and his inspiration to become more than he was…like his uncle.
Adam heaved a long sigh. Well, he wasn’t a cop; he had decided against that a long time ago. He gently fingered his lab tech badge while staring at the old shield, a small glow of pride growing in his chest. He stood up, patting his nameplate on the locker door before walking out. No, not a cop; but just as good as one. He was sure his uncle would agree.
And the best part?
He would’ve meant it.