Bruce Wainright has (onerule) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-09-19 19:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | batman, eames |
Who: Luke and Joseph
What: Luke wants to be a cop and ends up as a tag-along.
Where: Out in LV.
When: Recently, when all things happen.
Warnings/Rating: A few mentions of domestic violence.
Maybe he should have mentioned his potential career change to someone other than a guy who only knew him by a codename, but Luke didn’t want to get ahead of himself, and really, he hadn’t even passed the consideration stage yet. Why get everyone all riled up and be forced to listen to their advice when it might not even pan out in the end? So he didn’t say a word; not to Jack, not to Max, and not to Wren either. She would be the first person he told if he made a concrete decision, he promised himself that, but for now, he said nothing. Bruce was grudgingly approving, at least of doing something more with his life, even though the life of a police officer was not quite the one he’d chosen for himself in Gotham. Then again, things were different there, and maybe in Las Vegas Max was right. Maybe returning to the road of vigilantism was too dangerous, now that he had a son and people to live for.
Luke put it off for a few days, talking to someone. With work, Gus, and everything else, it was easy to make excuses. But then he had a day off, and all his excuses ran dry, so Luke followed up on some friends of friends and was put in contact with one of the recruiting officers for the LVPD. He kept all his questions basic, general, but the more they talked, the more he realized that he might actually have a chance at this. It wouldn’t be easy, and it would take time, but if he wanted this--really wanted this--he could do it. The officer seemed to sense his hesitation, and gave him the name of a beat cop, one who patrolled the strip; apparently he’d thought his apprehension came from not knowing what he might be getting himself into. This was one thing, but talking to an on-duty cop? Luke wasn’t so sure about that. Still, he thanked the guy for his time and headed on his way, packages of information under one arm and deadlines swirling around in his mind.
Why he actually ended up on the Strip a night later, fresh off work, looking for the cop in question, was something Luke couldn’t quite answer. If he even ended up finding the guy, Officer Sullivan, he didn’t know what he expected to get out of it either. A definite answer? A look at what his life might be like if he went this route? He sighed, continuing his slow pace, and kept an eye out. At least he knew most of the cops around here, at least on sight, which made the process of elimination a little easier.
Joseph was working his regular beat that night. Some nights, he picked up shifts further off, but not that night. That night was close to home, where he knew the faces of the regular junkies, working girls and pimps, and he didn't even bother with a cop car for the patrol, not on this beat - his beat. He didn't know anyone had sent someone his way to ask questions, but he wouldn't have been surprised. He'd been working this beat longer than anyone at the station, and he didn't want to move up the ladder, so he was a good choice. But he didn't know, so he just went about his business, a broad, slightly silver-haired man that somehow blended into the environment despite his size.
A few blocks off the strip, a fight drew Joseph's attention, and he released the safety on the gun but didn't unholster it. He didn't pull the radio from his shoulder to call it in either, not yet. Not out here where he knew almost every kid that got himself into trouble. Up the way, a pimp had a boy pinned to a wall, and Joseph carefully moved forward. He didn't hear Luke walking up across the street, because his attention was entirely focused on the scene in front of him. He rounded the dumpster in the alley slowly, keeping the element of surprise in his pocket, and he grabbed a hand for the back of the pimp's jacket and slammed him against the opposite wall without missing a beat. He had size on the man, height, and he had him cuffed and Mirandized within seconds, all while jerking his head to the young boy, letting him to know to go before he called it in. It wasn't strictly legal, but the pimp couldn't see the movement from his position against the wall, and it wouldn't help the kid to end up in jail.
Joseph called it in a second later. "Pimp. Roughing up a kid. Lost the kid." He didn't need the computer in his car to know the pimp's priors, and he rattled them off as he waited for a hand-off. Most nights, he hauled them in himself, but he was the only patrol out that night, which meant a wagon came within a few minutes and hauled the pimp off. He waited a few seconds, pulled a ten out of his pocket, and left it on the edge of the dumpster, where he knew the kid would come get it as soon as he was out of sight.
A second later, Joseph walked back out of the alley, and he didn't turn back when he heard sneakers skidding on the alley's pavement in the kid's haste to collect the bill.
Admittedly, Luke had been keeping his eye out for a cop car. They were easy enough to spot, and the ones on patrol would move slow, rather than speeding along the street in order to get somewhere else. He might not have even noticed the cop on foot until it was too late had it not been for the fight breaking out, and while most people were content to turn a blind eye to such things, or not allow it to register, but for someone like him he was hyper-aware to such situations. Instinct made him approach, but the sight of the cop rounding the corner made him slow, logic kicking in and telling him that he needed to hang back for this one. Fortunately, the cop didn’t seem to notice as he crossed the street and wove past the various tourists consumed with their own selfish lives, keeping close to the wall along the sidewalk in order to remain out of sight.
He didn’t think the cop would need help, not really, but he’d seen his fair share of corrupt law enforcement, and the good couldn’t exactly be distinguished from the bad on sight. What Luke wasn’t expecting was for everything to happen so fast; one minute the pimp had some kid up against the wall, and the next the cop was on him, and he was handcuffed and muttering curses moments later. He wondered if it was difficult to refrain from violence; if he’d stumbled upon the situation, the pimp would have ended up with something broken. But working within the law meant you had to follow it, he knew that; charges could be dropped if cops got too rough.
What made Luke decide he liked this cop was the bill he left on the edge of the dumpster, combined with the fact that he’d given the kid an opportunity to get the hell out of there. Luke wisely hung back once it was called in, not wanting to be in the way for any of that, and waited in the shadows around the corner. He waited, and he waited, and he decided the cop’s lack of familiarity meant that he might be the one he was looking for. And if not, well, easy mistake, and he’d just get the hell out of there.
“Hey,” Luke called, stepping out onto the sidewalk, and making a conscious effort to keep his hands in clear view. Cops always looked for that, right? And the last thing he wanted was to come off as threatening and get off on the wrong foot from the start. “You Officer Sullivan?”
A few seconds after the other car took the pimp away, Joseph realized he was being watched. He hadn't noticed during the scuffle, because he was paying attention to anything that could result in injury, but with the threat gone, he noticed. He talked into the radio at his shoulder, called in a break, and waited himself. He needed to go write up the stop, and he figured whoever was watching would get his attention between the alley and the car, which was precisely what happened.
Any concerns Joseph had, and he didn't have many, were alleviated when the newcomer intentionally kept his hands casually in plain sight. Normal people didn't do that, and criminals didn't do that. Doing that was like slowing down and going below the speed limit when a cop car was behind you. Joseph took it to mean caution, some fear, and he stepped forward with his own hands in his pockets, nowhere near the firearm, which had the safety reengaged.
Joseph made a sound that was affirmative, agreement, and he casually closed the distance between them and nodded toward his car, where he would have to enter the write-up for the pimp before he could get booked. "Walk?" he asked, but he was already walking down the sidewalk, past a deli and a newsstand, waiting for the boy to fall into step beside him.
Five years on these streets meant Joseph knew the dealers and the hookers, the pimps and the gangs. He knew the kids out here, and he even knew some of their kids. He didn't know this guy, but he could tell a few things without needing any information. Local, no tracks that he could see, no sweet breath, no booze, no sex, young, early-to-mid twenties, not poor, but not a lot of cash. He didn't offer opinions or theories on what the boy wanted with him. He just walked, knowing silence made people talk more than questions did.
Luke had a healthy amount of caution, more that than fear, since he really had no reason to be afraid of the cop, and he was relieved when the guy didn’t pull his gun on him or look at him with the sort of suspicion or mistrust he’d been half-expecting. He just wanted to make it clear that he didn’t want trouble, that’s all, and he wasn’t some crazy guy hyped up on drugs or booze either. He wasn’t quite sure where to start, but he figured the cop’s wordless agreement was as good a place as any, and instead of responding he simply followed along as he began to walk. There was a strange sort of instinct to stay one step behind, rather than walking beside him as equals, but he fought the urge and forced himself to keep pace.
At first, he let the silence go on, thinking that the cop would say something, but it soon became clear that wasn’t going to happen. Right. He cleared his throat, shooting a glance to the side before he spoke. “You’re probably wondering what the hell I want,” he said, seeing no need to pretend like this was totally normal. “I talked to-- uh, a Detective Abrams, and he pointed me your way. I guess the long and short of it is... I’m thinking about changing careers and going the law enforcement route, and he made it sound like you’d be someone to talk to about what it’s like and all that.”
Joseph nodded at the observation that he was probably wondering what was up, and he paired the nod with a sound of agreement. He wasn't actually surprised to hear Abrams had sent the boy his way, but he held his tongue about it a few seconds longer. He glanced over once or twice, waiting to see if the boy said anything else, and he eventually slowed when the patrol car came into view, stopping entirely when they reached it. "Name?" he asked, opening the driver's side door and making it fairly obvious that he wasn't a big talker. He pulled the laptop from the center of the car, typed in some details as he waited for an answer, and then he put it back and leaned against the car and gave the boy his full attention.
"Not the first person he's sent my way," Joseph admitted of Abrams, and he had a feeling it was Abrams' way of suggestion Joseph should take the detective position he'd been offered a dozen times. "What do you do now?" he asked. He motioned at the street beyond them. "This is patrol, not detective work. If you want to work a beat, then I'm going to ask you why," he explained, stringing together a full sentence for the first time in the conversation. The radio at his shoulder chirped, and a female voice rattled off a street and a number. "Location and code," he explained to the boy, figuring he'd see some interest in the boy's face if he was in this for the right reason. The location was two blocks away, and the code was left unexplained. "Coming?" he asked, nodding to the passenger's side door.
It had been all of five minutes, maybe, but Luke could already tell that this Officer Sullivan wasn’t much of a talker. That was fine by him, though. He wasn’t a huge fan of having his ear talked off anyway. The cop didn’t seem all that surprised that he was being recommended by another cop, albeit a detective, and he wondered if there had been people before him, asking the same kind of questions. He hesitated briefly when he was asked for his name; it was a given, of course, but there would always be a part of him that balked at having someone in uniform knowing who he was and having reason to pay attention to him. “Henry,” he said, telling himself that there was nothing to worry about, because his record was clean. The only people who knew the truth would take it to their graves. “Luke Henry.”
Luke raised his eyebrows at the admission that he was, in fact, not the first person who’d been directed to one Joseph Sullivan, but other than a vaguely curious hum he didn’t comment on it. Clearly the guy was good at his job, which made Luke feel a little better about his decision to talk to him in the first place. “I work security at Caesars,” he explained. “I’ve been doing it for a few years.” He’d expected to have his motives questioned, and while he couldn’t go for full honesty, he had decided against making up some stupid reason and instead opted to go for as much truth as he could without implicating himself. He needed to be out on the street, to actually be doing something; like a soldier on the front lines of a war, rather than hanging back. Maybe detective work would have been safer, and maybe it would have paid better, but it wasn’t what he wanted, and this wasn’t going to work if he forced himself into a role that just didn’t fit.
“Honestly?” Luke let out a long breath and met the cop’s gaze with his own frank one. There was no hiding anything, not now. “I want to help people. I want to be out there, not behind a desk, making a difference, and I want to do it the right way. Security isn’t a bad job, but it’s not what I want to spend the rest of my life doing,” he explained. He’d listened to a few police radios in the past, but he’d mostly been focused on the addresses, rather than what the codes used meant, and he did a poor job of trying to hide the fact that he was listening to the radio on the cop’s shoulder and attempting to figure out what was being called in. For a moment Luke stared, surprised, definitely not having expected to be invited along on actual police business. “Really? I mean-- yeah, sure.” He felt like a teenager again, back when Thomas had first reluctantly allowed him to work at his side, and he reached for the passenger side door without hesitation.
Joseph had no reason to think the name Luke gave was fake and, as was his tendency, he decided to believe the boy until it was proved otherwise. He listened to the explanation of where Luke worked, why he didn't like it, and why he wanted to walk a beat. Didn't interrupt during any of it. He watched too, even in the dark, for fidgeting or nervousness, any signs the boy wasn't being honest. He didn't see anything. First thing he saw worth noting was the interest in the radio, and that could be good or bad. Some kids were thrill seekers, but he was pretty sure this boy was past his teen years, past thrill seeking. "Partner? Family?" he asked, and maybe it was strange for someone as completely old fashioned as him to ask about a partner, rather than a wife or girlfriend, but he didn't think before asking. Joseph didn't think much before saying things, likely because he didn't actually say very many things. But a family man would have less of a tendency to stick himself in front of a gun for the experience, so it was worth asking.
A jerky nod, and Joseph was climbing into the driver's seat and replying into the radio at his shoulder with eta, claiming the call. As soon as Luke closed the door, the car was moving. He could go on for hours about what this job was like, but none of it would be as good as showing the boy. "Vest under the seat," he said of the spare bulletproof vests the car was equipped with beneath each seat. "Stay back. No security guard moves." There was a grin there, an old leather-salt one. "Watching only."
The cop car stopped at the corner of the block, at an apartment building that was about five stories tall. Three stories up, screaming could be heard, male and female voices, and Joseph climbed out of the car, safety off on the gun and a quick report to the radio in his ear. He motioned for Luke to stay behind him, and he walked into the building and to the door in question, where the screaming was joined by items crashing, and by the sound of a child crying over the two adults on the premises. Joseph rapped on the door, his hand a fist and the sound loud enough to shake the wood. "Police." A few doors had opened behind them, and those people got a quick, "back inside, please," without Joseph even turning around. He knocked on the wood again. "Police. Open up, or I'll break it down."
With the lack of response on the cop’s part, Luke had no way of knowing if what he was saying was right, wrong, or somewhere in between. He knew that if he made a bad impression, word might get back to the higher-up officers, and if he actually decided to give this a go it would certainly be a strike against him. All he could hope for was that his honesty got through somehow. Maybe he shouldn’t have cared so much about what this guy thought, but he did, so there it was. He’d always be too much of a people-pleaser, even if he claimed to be the exact opposite. He didn’t think much of the use of ‘partners’ in this day and age, and he smiled a little before nodding. “Yeah. My girlfriend and I, we have a kid. He’s four,” he said, and he didn’t mind sharing that information, not anymore. Maybe there was a small part of him that still longed for the thrill, but that wasn’t his driving force anymore. He had people to live for, really live for, and he didn’t want a badge and a gun to spend his time flirting with death.
Luke had no idea if this shit was legal, or frowned upon or what, inviting a civilian along, but he wasn’t about to complain, and he reached for the bulletproof vest without question. It wasn’t quite his old uniform of kevlar and black, but it would do. “Watching only, no playing the hero. Got it, sir,” he affirmed, adding in a mock salute. It wasn’t that he didn’t take this seriously, because he did, even though he didn’t actually have any expectation of being shot.
Luke knew that kind of screaming all too well, and he knew without thinking what he would have done if he’d been here on his own, rather than tagging along with an officer of the law. But this was different, it was procedure, and he watched everything Joseph did before following him out of the car. Staying behind the other man wasn’t easy, because he’d never been much for hanging back and following someone else’s lead, but he reigned in his slightly impulsive instincts and did what he was told, even when the sound of a crying child became audible over the screams and loud crashes from within the apartment. He glanced over his shoulder as the cop announced himself, and while most of the curious onlookers disappeared right back into their respective apartments after peeking out, a couple still peered out from half-open doors. He didn’t look like a cop, but maybe the bulletproof vest made them think he was one, because all it took was a glare to send them scampering back as locks clicked into place. Maybe he was just as much of a civilian in this situation, but he didn’t feel like one, not with his experience.
There was another crash from behind the apartment in front of them, a woman’s scream, and a very masculine voice shouting something that had a lot of fucks in it and certainly didn’t sound the least bit inviting. Luke tried not to fidget, and he knew he was only supposed to watch, but surely he was allowed to do something if the cop broke down the door and and found more than he could handle on the other side, right?
Joseph made a sound that might have been approval at the mention of a relationship and a child. Families were good. He didn't have one himself, but most good cops did. Dirty cops were different, but Joseph didn't see dirty cop written anywhere on this boy. If he had, Luke wouldn't have made it into the car. That was the thing about being a cop, especially a street cop, it was easy to get dirty, to take money in order to look the other way. It brought a lot of green cops down, that temptation. As for whether or not this shit was legal, well, as long as Luke didn't do anything, then it wasn't strictly illegal. Frowned upon, sure. But it was a simple call, no robbery or shooting; Joseph felt confident it would be fine. This kid was something like half his age; it would be fine. The mock salute earned Luke a silently quirked brow, maybe a hint of a grin, but that was all. Kids.
For some reason, Joseph expected the boy to stay far back, but that wasn't the case. Observation filled in the rest for him; the way Luke's muscles tensed in an effort to keep from moving forward. Maybe not a thrill seeker, but something, he realized. He kept it to himself for then. Until after the call was done. He'd deal with it then.
In the meantime, there was the door to contend with. Joseph heard some of the doors behind him close, and he knew some watchers were still peering into the hallway, but that wasn't the main concern. Breaking down the door was - or the possibility of breaking down the door was. He could do it, but there had to be a clear concern for the immediate welfare of someone inside, otherwise he would need to wait on approval, a team or, even worse, a warrant. The crash inside wasn't enough, and neither was the cursing. He repeated the order, even though it was as much bluff as anything else, and he waited a second for the telltale click that would say the lock was being turned.
The click didn't come. Instead, the woman inside screamed louder, and something hit the door at knee level. Once, twice, three times, and Joseph called it in. He had to wait five agonizing seconds before he got the order to wait for approval before going in, and he glanced back at the boy to see how he was handling the wait. Joseph was calm on the outside, apparently unruffled as the banging sped up on the other side of the door. He'd determined, by then, that it was the child that was crying earlier doing the banging. There was two sets of sounds with each hit, likely small fists, and the woman was screaming from further into the apartment now - likely a bedroom.
A second later, and everything went quiet inside. Too many years of this made Joseph wary of sudden silences. "Not waiting. Immediate threat," he said into the radio at his shoulder. Luke got a "stay there," without even looking back, and then he warned the child on the other side of the door to "get back" before taking a step back and kicking it twice - once to scare the child, and once to break it in.
Luke was used to being thought of as a kid by those older than him, even though he’d passed the age where he was legally recognized as an adult a long time ago, and it probably wouldn’t have bothered him if he’d known the cop fell into the same category as Max. The guy was older, he could tell that much, and more experienced; in this, he may as well have been a child. He had no love for dirty cops, nothing but derision for them, in fact, and if he’d thought even for a second that Joseph might be that type, he wouldn’t have gotten in the car; the feeling was, clearly, mutual. He didn’t realize the way he tensed, that effort to hold himself back, had been noticed, though he probably should have figured as much. Cops would notice that kind of thing, especially from someone who was only meant to have had security training at best, which unless the circumstances were extreme, was nothing like this.
Maybe, he thought, the door would open. Despite the screaming and the cursing, the asshole inside would realize a cop busting down his door was not the way to go, but when that didn’t happen, Luke couldn’t say he was surprised. He didn’t like that thumping, that much was clear, and he didn’t make the connection between the sound and the child as Joseph did, not at first. It just represented not good, especially when the screaming became farther away, and by the time the cop called it in he was fighting every instinct he had to ram in the door and do something. At least this time around he managed to make the struggle less obvious, because he didn’t want this guy thinking he was some kind of loose cannon; those types never did well with a badge and a gun. He wasn’t calm, not like the cop was, and part of him was slightly envious that the man had obviously learned a lesson he hadn’t been able to teach himself no matter how hard he tried. He nodded when Joseph glanced back, like he understood, and yeah, he was fine. Never mind the fact that he’d just realized the thumping at the door was coming from too low to the ground to be an adult.
To give him his due, Luke did back up when things went quiet and the cop decided kicking down the door had become necessary, and he held his breath until after the second kick, when the door splintered and caved under a foreign weight. His first concern was the child, and he tried to see past the cop into the apartment, wanting to get the kid out of the way if he could. He managed to catch a glimpse of a small form, half-hidden by a doorway in the hall, and he tried to gesture for the child--a boy, which immediately made him think of Gus--to come, mouthing that it would be okay.
Joseph glanced back once as the bruised little boy ran past him toward Luke, and he gave Luke a look that conveyed a command, no words required, a watch him. It was unconventional, but it meant Joseph didn't need to ascertain the safety of the child before heading back toward the rear of the apartment, where he could hear a man's voice begging. He spoke against his shoulder, letting the dispatch know there was a child safely out of the apartment, and that he could hear the perp begging in the back room. He changed the code to one for a domestic violence incident, based on the sounds and the child's bruises, and he continued onward. The procedural conversation carried to the doorway, where Luke was, and a Joseph kept the line open so that the dispatcher could serve as an auditory witness of the events to follow.
But Joseph already knew what to expect in the back room, for the most part. The weapon changed, but the scene was a familiar one. The woman was blocking the man's exit, her face bruised and swollen, a gun in her hand and pointed at the man in the corner of the room. Joseph would have liked to hesitate, to let her pull the trigger, but he knew better. Knew too that nothing good would come of it. He spoke from far enough away that he didn't spook her. "Don't need to turn around. Don't have my firearm out. Kid's fine," he assured her, voice old salt and reassuring rasp. "Shoot him, and you go to jail. Kid gets sent away. Hand the gun over, I'll testify at the trial for you. At every parole hearing after. He won't come near you again." He went on this way until the woman wavered and handed over the gun, just before crumpling against him in tears.
The man in the corner started talking a second later, all "thanks, man," and appreciation, but Joseph fixed him with a hard stare. He sent the woman out to where Luke was, let the dispatcher know that the ride-along Abrams sent his way had the woman and kid, and that they needed medical. A second later, and he'd shoved the perp against the wall, possibly with a little unnecessary roughness, and he read him his rights as the dispatcher listened. He didn't pull the man out of the room, wanting medical to get the woman and kid out sight before that happened. He just stood there, an unmovable force as he listened to the sirens near, ignoring the man's pleading and explanations about why he wasn't responsible for his actions.
There was absolutely no hesitation in what to do when the little boy broke into a run, and Luke only had a moment to register the bruises before he crouched down to meet the child at his level, a precaution in case he intended on running past him, but instead the boy practically threw himself against him as his small shoulders shook with sobs. “It’s okay,” he whispered, reassuring, pretending the little boy was his son and he was soothing him after a nightmare. He nodded to Joseph in wordless agreement before the other man disappeared inside the apartment, and he pulled the boy aside, close enough to the doorway to hear what was happening inside without letting the kid see anything.
From out in the hallway, there wasn’t much Luke could do except try to keep the little boy calm. That and listen, of course, which was exactly what he did. He couldn’t see what was going on, but judging on what the cop was saying he could put together a visual well enough, and he almost expected to hear a gunshot despite the other man’s attempts at reassurance. Luke covered the little boy’s ears, just in case, but he waited, and the sound of the gun being fired never came. The bastard inside deserved to die, he had no doubt of that, yet the absence of gunfire was reassuring nonetheless; not for his sake, but for the boy’s, and the woman’s as well. “Hey, look, everything’s going to be fine, kiddo,” he told the boy, smiling down at him when the kid looked up, all bruises and wide eyes that had seen far too much. He opened his mouth to respond, the boy, but then the woman appeared in the doorway, red eyes still brimming with tears as she swayed unsteadily, and the kid let out a small cry as he scampered over to his mother and threw his arms around her waist. “Mommy,” he whimpered, and the woman’s tears spilled over as she hugged the child, her murmurs ineligible and muffled.
Luke swallowed heavily and looked away, feeling like he was intruding upon some sort of private family moment. The sound of sirens grew louder with each passing moment, and he wondered if his presence there was going to be a problem-- not that he could do anything if it was. He knew he didn’t have much time before the cavalry arrived, so he moved closer to the woman and her son, lowering his voice out of instinct. “Hey,” he said, catching the woman’s attention. “You gotta look out for him now, okay? You can’t let this happen again.” A gesture to the little boy, to the bruises they both sported. “If you need help, ask for it. You’re not alone. There are good people out there, like that cop. You understand?” The woman looked at him for a long, long moment, her lower lip trembling, before she nodded, and he smiled, satisfied. “Good.”
The sirens were right outside now, and Luke melted back against the wall as medical arrived, with backup in uniform close behind, and between the woman, the boy, and the man Joseph had restrained inside, no one seemed to give him more than a passing glance.
It was all over in minutes. The woman gave Luke a thready smile, and the boy hugged his leg for a moment, and then the medics took them away, a female detective from the domestic crimes unit doing a lot to soothe the woman and calm her down during the process. She gave Luke a questioning look, the detective, one followed by a thankful inclination of her head, before she walked off.
Joseph left the apartment a few seconds later, following the officer that was taking the abusive husband away, and he inclined his head to Luke, the sole indication that Luke should follow. Outside, they booked the man, who kept insisting on his innocence in a way neither officer acknowledged, and then he was tucked into the newcomer's car and driven away. Joseph glanced at Luke, and he quirked a brow, a gesture that asked all sorts of questions, but he didn't immediately give Luke a chance to answer. Instead, he nodded just down the block, where an all-night gas station's lights were still brightly lit.
A quick walk, and Joseph was ordering himself a black coffee, and waiting to see if Luke wanted anything. The girl behind the counter smiled and comped them, and Joseph took his coffee outside and lit a smoke. He gave Luke an apologetic look - in case the boy minded smoke - and he repeated the eyebrow quirk. "Good with the kid," he said, observationally. "Good with the wife. Would have beat the shit out of the husband," he finished, but there wasn't anything in his tone that said he was writing Luke off because of whatever he'd seen in the boy's eyes throughout the ordeal. "Think you can control it?" Joseph had seen plenty of cops with anger management issues. Some could work it out - others couldn't.
More than the violence, than the hot, harsh satisfaction of knowing men paid for their crimes, Luke had missed the simple feeling of knowing he’d made a difference, however insignificant. It was in the woman’s smile, the way the boy hugged his leg, and words caught in his throat as he nodded. It was all he could do; this was out of his hands now, and he wondered if Joseph ever checked up on old cases, or if he’d reached the place in his life where he could let go. For a moment he thought the female detective might ask questions, which he steeled himself for, but when all he received was a questioning glance his relief was palpable. He watched them leave, letting out a long exhale, but he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could do this. It wouldn’t be easy to keep from beating the shit out of assholes who hit their wives and children, but if he made a real effort, he could do it.
Luke looked up when the two cops emerged, with the asshole husband in tow, though he made a conscious effort to avoid looking at the man. His continued claims of innocence irked him, and he would have liked nothing more than to break that jaw of his, but obviously that wasn’t an option here. Admittedly, he was a little surprised that Joseph was allowing him to continue tagging along, but he didn’t ask, and he didn’t argue, following the trio outside, where he waited until the husband was tucked safely away in the other cop’s car and it was heading away, down the road. He knew that quirk of the cop’s brow held a lot of questions, some of them he probably wouldn’t want to answer, but Luke figured he owed the guy something for letting him tag along. He was getting used to the whole speaking without words thing, which Joseph seemed really good at, and he nodded before falling into step beside him as they headed for the gas station. What he really wanted was a drink, but instead he copied what the cop had ordered--coffee, black--and smiled gratefully at the girl behind the counter. Opinion on the police was mixed depending on who you talked to, but apparently there were still some good feelings to be found.
Outside, Luke shrugged when the cop lit his cigarette. “I don’t mind,” he said, by way of explanation, and nodded at his observations. “He reminded me of my kid,” he admitted, “and I’ve... known people in that situation before. Guess you could say I have some experience with it.” He thought of denying it at first, the fact that he would have given the husband enough bruises to make up for what he’d done to his family, but after a moment he gave a self-deprecating little laugh. “You’re right. I wanted to. There was a time when I would have, but that’s not me anymore.” He looked down at his coffee before taking a sip. “Yeah, I can control it,” he said. “Like I said, that’s not me anymore. I’ll always want to, I think, but I know not to cross the line.”
Joseph sucked on his cigarette, calloused fingers the color of old leather against the bone white of the smoke. He listened, and he let the quiet span, letting Luke say as much as he would before interrupting. He made a sound of agreement afterward, a hmmm that said he'd seen plenty of people in that situation, though he had no personal experience. "Accident made me take this job. Was walking one day, DUI right in front of me. Dragged a boy out who lived, but the girl died. Made me want to do something, make a difference. Couldn't change the accident, but was there to pull one of them out in time." He stubbed the cigarette out, and he took a long sip of the bitter coffee. "Depends how you look at it. Could say it's not enough. Dragging one out, losing the other. Alternative is losing both."
Luke's insistence that he wasn't the guy who would punch the husband anymore made Joseph laugh, and it was an old sea-salt laugh, one that matched the silver at his temples and the lines around his eyes. "Still that man. You'll always be that man. That doesn't change. You learn to control it, but it's still you," he said, using the styrofoam cup to point at the boy. "No point pretending it isn't. Want to break their jaws mostly," he said of himself, "but they won't stay in if I do, and that's what keeps me from doing it. Go to every parole hearing for the ones I collar, testify at every trial the DA calls me for. Keep an eye on release dates, watch where they go once they're out." He gave Luke a hard look, something serious. "See a lot of boys become cops for a lot of reasons - power, security, old scores, revenge. Saviors have the hardest time. Have to be fine with not saving everyone. If you save ten and lose ten, you still saved ten that wouldn't have been saved otherwise."
Joseph could tell this boy wasn't scared, not the way most rookies were; he wasn't stupid, despite his economy of words. He finished off his coffee, and he threw the cup in the garbage can on the sidewalk. "Six weeks training at CSN. Close by. Half of your time shadowing, if your security license already includes a weapons permit. Partner to start off, keep you honest."
Luke tipped his head to the side as he listened, and it made him realize that everyone had a story, something that made them want to do more than live normal, safe lives. Unless the badge represented power, and they were motivated by selfishness, but even then there had to be a reason, something that motivated them to desire it to begin with. “Saving one is better than saving none,” he said. “It’s never easy to accept loss. I know that better than most. But everyone keeps telling me that you can’t control everything, can’t save everyone, and the most you can do is good enough.” Saying it was one thing, though, and believing it was another entirely. He could dish out advice like the best of them, but he’d never been very good at taking it.
The cop’s laughter was surprising, and his brow furrowed with the instinctive desire to protest that no, he wasn’t that man, not anymore. But something stopped him, and he swallowed the words down with a fair bit of effort. Maybe he just didn’t want to be that man, because really, who did? The legal system would label him a murderer, and he wanted to be more than that. Even if he had to spend the rest of his life doing it, he wanted to make up for the things he’d done, and dedicating his life to the law, well, that seemed like a good start. It was a way to make a difference the right way for once. “I’m good at pretending,” he admitted with a sigh. “Alright, so I’m still that man, but I can control it. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think I could.” Because falling off the wagon was bad enough without doing it under these kinds of circumstances. He couldn’t help a small smile when Joseph admitted to wanting to break their jaws; it was a feeling he could relate to, but the smile faltered at the seriousness in his expression. It was no secret that he had a saving-people thing, and he had a tendency to dwell on the losses. “I wouldn’t call myself a savior,” he said, shaking his head, “but I know I can’t save everyone.”
It took a few seconds for him to realize what the cop was saying, and it came with a jolt of understanding. He hadn’t actually made any concrete decisions, hadn’t even discussed this with anyone other than Spencer, but in that moment, Luke decided to make a choice. Thinking about it would only make him doubt himself, and it was either this or a life spent working security, while putting on a mask and eventually getting himself killed. Bruce, surprisingly enough, approved; he had no shortage of respect for law enforcement, so long as they were honorable and honest. Maybe Max was right-- this was the only system they had, so instead of trying to beat it, why not work with it to make it better? “Alright,” he said with a nod. “And yeah, I have a weapons permit.” He didn’t mention that he had a thing with guns, because of Bruce; that was simply something he’d have to overcome. He wasn’t so sure about a partner, but maybe it would be good for him. “Does that mean you approve?” He was mostly teasing, but there was something like curiosity in there as well.
"Sound like you're parroting the company line," Joseph said of Luke's assertion that saving one was better than saving none. Didn't surprise him. That was something that was hard to accept in this field. Paramedics on the job had to deal with the same thing. Just took time. He wasn't sure this boy had it in him, but he wasn't the one who needed to make that call. "Can't let it eat you," he said of losing people, because that was the main thing; being strong enough to see the atrocities and deal with the losses. "Ruin your life if it does. This can be my life," he said, motioning to the street beyond them. "Got no kid, no family. Can't be yours. Have to be able to work, shake it off, go home." He did have a family, and a son who wouldn't be much younger than Luke, but they didn't count as his anymore. Didn't apply. As for controlling it, Joseph gave the boy a long look. He didn't know. Couldn't tell. Didn't think the kid knew either, not really, but he thought Luke was willing to try, and he was willing to let that count for more than the rest.
"Weapons training for your security license means less CSN time," Joseph explained. He had no idea about Luke's issues with guns, so that wasn't taken into consideration before replying to the teasing question about approving. "Won't tell them I think you'll be dirty. Don't think that," he said truthfully. If this boy had problems, it wasn't going to be working for the bad guys. "Won't tell them I think you're going to beat the shit out of a perp either. Think you might, though," he added, his gaze perfectly straight. "Will tell them I think you're a good kid. Doing it for the right reasons." That was high praise coming from him. Most men and women Abrams sent him never got a recommend, for one reason or another.
Joseph threw out his empty styrofoam cup, and he gave Luke a steady look, old and knowing. "Think it through. Not something that's easy to walk away from. Not something everyone in your life will understand. Makes women scared. Makes other people uncomfortable," he added, and that was a newfound concern for him with this new mess with Passages and the doors. But he didn't know enough about that yet to assume everyone he met had one of those people in his head, so he left it at that. "Can put me down for a reference. Thanks for the help with the little boy."
“I figure if I say it enough, I might start believing it one of these days,” Luke admitted of his assertion that everyone couldn’t be saved sounding like a well-rehearsed line. In all honesty, Luke was pretty sure he’d never fully be okay with it, but if he could reach some level of acceptance, that might be enough. “I know. I know what it can do, and I’ve already learned my lesson, trust me. This is something I want to do, but I don’t want it to become my entire life.” That couldn’t happen now, even if he’d wanted his life to be that way again. He didn’t expect the cop to believe him, though; hell, he wasn’t sure if he even believed himself these days. The long looks said more than words could, and while he tried not to shrink under them, it wasn’t easy. Joseph was nothing like Thomas, though; he could meet his gaze without wanting to run away somewhere and hide.
For a moment Luke wondered about how he was going to pay for training of any kind, but that was pushed aside. He’d find a way, if he wanted it badly enough. Less time was good, though, or at least so he assumed, and he nodded along like he got it. Hearing the cop didn’t think he would turn dirty, that felt good, even though he wanted the protest the fact that he might end up beating the shit out of perps. Besides, he didn’t want to push his luck. “Alright,” he said, after a pause. “I’ll take that to mean you approve, then.”
As for talking it over, that was definitely something he’d need to do. Luke didn’t necessarily plan on telling everyone, but once things calmed down in Gotham, he’d need to discuss it with Wren. Her opinion meant more to him than just about anyone else’s. “I have to talk it over with my girlfriend,” he agreed. “I’m not sure how thrilled she’s going to be. She worries a lot, you know, but I think she’ll come around.” Having the cop as a reference was a surprise, but one he was was grateful for nonetheless. “Don’t mention it,” he shrugged, about his help with the little boy, and downed the rest of his coffee in one long gulp before looking back up. “Thanks. For all of this. Maybe I’ll see you around, huh?”
Joseph hummed thoughtfully at the concept of saying something enough times to make it true, but who was he to decide what would work best for this boy? He simply nodded at the assertion that Luke didn't want this to become his entire life, and he hoped it was true, but only time would tell that too. He'd seen plenty of cops lose wives and children to the job, and not because anyone was injured, but because it was easy to always feel like someone could be saved if they were on duty. Was hard on people at home. It was kind of like the sea that way, being a cop, and he could count the number of officers he knew that made it through without losing something in the end.
Approval was given with a nod, and a gruff sound that sounded like yes, while being flavored with the northeastern seaboard. "Women never like their men doing dangerous work," he said, and there was an old kind of knowing there. His wife had been raised to be a fisherman's wife, and even she hadn't been able to handle it in the end, the constant not knowing. As for looking him up, Joseph nodded. "Am one of the seniors on this beat. If you're local, we'll see each other," he said, making it all sound like a done deal, like a given. Maybe it was just something he sensed in the boy, but he was feeling sure the kid would come through, assuming his woman didn't talk him out of it. He nodded toward the street. "Get back home to your family. Is late," he said, which was as close to a goodbye as Luke was going to get. Joseph wasn't big on greetings or farewells. "Welcome," he added belatedly, before turning toward the cop car.
It didn’t occur to him that this was something he might lose Wren over. Maybe he just had more faith in her than that, or maybe he trusted that, if he wanted this, she would want it too. Regardless, Luke wasn’t too worried. She might not like it at first, but she hadn’t liked it when he was a vigilante either, had she? And she hadn’t forced him to stop, or threatened to leave because of it.
The way the cop said that, about women not liking their men doing dangerous work, made him wonder if he had any real experience of it. He didn’t want to ask, didn’t even want to try treading over that ground when they’d only met not even an hour ago, so he simply nodded instead. Joseph made it sound all finalized, like he’d made his decision, and he wasn’t going to get turned away or rejected or anything like that, and it made his confidence rise just a little. “Yeah,” he said, taking a few steps back like he’d only then realized the time, “you’re right. It is pretty late.” He watched as he turned towards the cop car, trying to fight back a smile in the dim light. “Thanks,” he called, before turning in the opposite direction and making the trek back to his apartment building.