Fic: One More Murder in this Town
Title: One More Murder in this Town
Fandom: L&O:Criminal Intent
Characters: Mike Logan
Word Count: 317
Summary: post-Renewal
Author's Notes: For neojess, who will surely join me in gagging the moment the teenyboppers start producing "What if Holly Had Lived ZOMG Tru Luv!" fic. Wow, that sounded really vitriolic. Well, if you haven't heard my spiel before, I am *adamant* (vehement, even) in my belief that "Holly" was nothing more than a symptom of a much larger problem. Ask Chris Noth. I'm that confident that I'm right.
She’d played him, pure and simple.
He could try and explain her transgression away, tell himself that she had been looking for protection. Maybe she had been. Or maybe she just wanted one last hurrah, someone to remember her when no one else would.
She asked him if he ever dreamed of victims-because she’d wanted him to think of her.
It was because she knew she was going to die. She premeditated her own murder. Wasn’t suicide by definition self-murder?
Had she been the victim merely of her husband? Or of herself as well?
Who knew what kind of mental problems she could have had. The point was, he’d only known her a couple of days. They’d had one conversation, in a bar. Who hasn’t chuckled with a random person in a bar? There were no signs of something deeper, of something that could blossom. It wasn’t something that had never happened before. Come on-he couldn’t begin to count the number of women he’d had a laugh with in bars…women he’d kissed goodnight after not even a first date.
She was a victim-dead before they even met and she had known it. He wasn’t a Special Victims cop. He was a murder cop. He had been trained to disregard the feelings of victims-after all, they were already dead.
Maybe she could have been saved.
Or maybe there had been no hope for her.
Maybe…there was no hope for him. He would never be anything but a hardened murder cop, one guy with a badge among many guys with badges who went home at night to nothing but a bottle of Scotch and the sounds of late-night television echoing from the apartment across the hall.
That was at the root of this all. Had the universe simply brought her along to show him that?
His tears hadn’t been for her.
They’d been for himself.
Fandom: L&O:Criminal Intent
Characters: Mike Logan
Word Count: 317
Summary: post-Renewal
Author's Notes: For neojess, who will surely join me in gagging the moment the teenyboppers start producing "What if Holly Had Lived ZOMG Tru Luv!" fic. Wow, that sounded really vitriolic. Well, if you haven't heard my spiel before, I am *adamant* (vehement, even) in my belief that "Holly" was nothing more than a symptom of a much larger problem. Ask Chris Noth. I'm that confident that I'm right.
She’d played him, pure and simple.
He could try and explain her transgression away, tell himself that she had been looking for protection. Maybe she had been. Or maybe she just wanted one last hurrah, someone to remember her when no one else would.
She asked him if he ever dreamed of victims-because she’d wanted him to think of her.
It was because she knew she was going to die. She premeditated her own murder. Wasn’t suicide by definition self-murder?
Had she been the victim merely of her husband? Or of herself as well?
Who knew what kind of mental problems she could have had. The point was, he’d only known her a couple of days. They’d had one conversation, in a bar. Who hasn’t chuckled with a random person in a bar? There were no signs of something deeper, of something that could blossom. It wasn’t something that had never happened before. Come on-he couldn’t begin to count the number of women he’d had a laugh with in bars…women he’d kissed goodnight after not even a first date.
She was a victim-dead before they even met and she had known it. He wasn’t a Special Victims cop. He was a murder cop. He had been trained to disregard the feelings of victims-after all, they were already dead.
Maybe she could have been saved.
Or maybe there had been no hope for her.
Maybe…there was no hope for him. He would never be anything but a hardened murder cop, one guy with a badge among many guys with badges who went home at night to nothing but a bottle of Scotch and the sounds of late-night television echoing from the apartment across the hall.
That was at the root of this all. Had the universe simply brought her along to show him that?
His tears hadn’t been for her.
They’d been for himself.