DISCLAIMERS:
"Miami Vice" & characters copyright Anthony Yerkovich, Michael Mann.
Lyrics: (1) Paul Young, (2) Jennifer Paige
With a world of thanks to Pfyre, my beta-reader
and my friend. And to Simon, always my
inspiration.
Prologue for disclaimers and copyrights.
**************
"A Portrait In Water Colours"
by elfin
"Rico - God, I love that guy - but now Rico's
scared of me. He thinks, they all
think, I could become Burnett again. And that scares me too."
- Sonny Crockett, "Bad Timing", season five.
Prologue.
Sonny tooled the Ferrari into a space in the drop-off zone of the airport parking lot. Killing the engine, he reached for the door. Rico looked at him like he did not really want any emotional goodbyes at the airport, but he said nothing and they both got out of the car.
The departure lounge was busy - mid-morning at Miami
International. Crockett kept close
to Tubbs, covering his back even now there was no need. This would be
the last time. Sonny
started to choke up before they reached the gate. "Rico...."
Tubbs dropped his bag to the ground and watched his partner for a
moment before pulling
him into a fierce hug. Sonny's arms went around his friend, hugging
back. Rico felt
wetness on his neck and slid one hand up his back to grasp his
shoulder. Sonny was crying,
and at that moment there was no way Rico could have walked through the
gate. A million
possibilities charged into his brain. He could stay. He could run with
Sonny. Somewhere
where the drinks are cool and they didn't know the names....
Sonny jerked and fell forward against him, a warmer
wetness soaking through to his
shoulder. It seemed that the sound of the bullet being fired came
later, after it hit.
Rico sank to the ground with Sonny in his arms, resting heavily against
him. He knew he
could hear the sound of more bullets, but they seemed distant. All he
was aware of was his
partner in his arms, the blood pumping from the deep wound in his
shoulder. Rico let
Sonny's body slip down, into his cradling arms, lifting a hand to press
on the wound. As
he did so, a bright flame of agony streaked through his own body. He
bit down on a cry,
looking at his shoulder where it had been pressed to Crockett's. His
partner's blood was
mingling with his own there. The bullet had exited Sonny and ploughed
straight into him.
The airport departures lounge had turned into a level
playing field for anyone baring a
weapon. Five men in black suits had started the shooting, with one
firing directly at the
two detectives saying goodbye as they retired from duty. A lot of
people had wanted to
make that permanent. A few had tried.
It was only a matter of minutes before everyone with
a gun was firing. The Feds were on
the balcony above the lounge, meaning that the shots were running
horizontally up and
down. In the midst of it all, Rico sat on the cheap carpeted floor with
his unconscious
partner in his arms. One of his hands pressed against his own wound,
the other pressed
against Sonny's shoulder at the front, holding it hard against his leg,
trying to stop the
bleeding.
Forever passed before Rico heard familiar voices, and
three familiar words,
"Freeze, Miami Vice." They seemed to chime the mantra in chorus. It cut
above
the shooting and the shouting. Seconds later, Rico felt a hand on his
shoulder and he
winced visibly, glaring up at his Lieutenant.
"Sorry." Castillo crouched down, pressing two fingers to Crockett's
neck.
"You okay?"
"Yeah. Stings a bit."
"Ambulance is on its way. He'll be all right."
Rico nodded. "Shock, exhaustion, he just collapsed." Castillo holstered
his gun
and moved, kneeling beside Crockett and starting a full first-aid
investigation of his
detective's body. When he had reassured himself that there were no
other wounds, he
reached into his pocket and pulled out two leather wallets. He tucked
one into the pocket
of Sonny's jacket and handed the other to Rico, who took his hand from
his own wound to
take his badge back. Martin placed his hand next to Rico's on Sonny's
shoulder.
"Let me." Shaking now, Rico hesitated, but relented and let Castillo
slide his
own palm over the bloody wound. Next to him, Stan crouched down and
smiled at his
colleague as he stripped off his jacket and wadded it up, pressing it
to Rico's shoulder.
In the background they could hear the sirens of the
paramedics drawing closer.
"You know you did it all wrong," Sweitek told Rico, matter-of-factly.
"You
have to tell the bad guys before you intend to resign."
Rico shook his head. "Who?"
"Feds." Castillo brushed his hand over Crockett's forehead. "After
revenge.
We got word from...." Rico actually thought he saw Castillo smile.
"...Izzy. He
was concerned about you two. Concerned you might really be retiring."
"Lieutenant...." Castillo shook his head. Outside two ambulances had
drawn up
and paramedics were spreading out into the lounge. Two descended on the
foursome by the
departure gate for the New York flight.
*
Sonny came around in the ambulance on the way to the
hospital. Rico, a large sterile
swab taped to his shoulder, reached over and squeezed his partner's
hand when he saw his
eyelids flicker. One of the medics checked the monitors displaying
Sonny's vitals. He
seemed pleased with the results.
"Hey, Partner." Sonny smiled at Rico's greeting. "You're gonna be okay,
just caught one in your shoulder." Sonny squeezed Rico's fingers to let
him know he
was okay. Then he closed his eyes once again.
Their resignation had been a bigger failure than
their careers. After three weeks
R&R on the 'St Vitus Dance', both Crockett and Tubbs resumed their
jobs with Miami
Vice.
*****