2/2
It was just that it meant more now, at the end of the world, from a place of great responsibility. “I will devote my efforts and skills to the honorable profession of policing, and to the service of the neighborhoods and individuals of this community, the City of Austin. So help me God.”
There was the barest hint of a breath before Archer duplicated those four words for Olinger. It could be argued that Archer didn’t much believe in God, but that was largely because -- from the new chief’s point of view -- that neither Archer nor whatever divine spark existed spent much time thinking about one another. He wasn’t wholly without faith. His was just in people more than it was in something he couldn’t see. So with the close of his swearing in, Archer didn’t see some absentee deity and instead made his vow to the people in this room -- Brannon O’Brien, Thomas Lansing, Reeves Olinger, even himself -- and all of the people who he couldn’t see but was now even more responsible for than he’d been before he walked in. So fucking help me, I’ll do my best, he thought, right hand raised, repeating the words back.
“Congratulations, Chief,” Olinger said; Archer nodded to formally acknowledge the words, relaxing his stance and pulling the cap from his head once he was back at parade rest. He looked over at Brannon again. By his own wishes, there had been little fanfare when he became a commander, seeing as it was another apocalyptic promotion, but he’d allowed Bran the honor of pinning his first stars on -- it was tradition -- and they’d made a point to celebrate the other achievements between them before the zombies came along. Archer had surreptitiously pocketed the badge that’s spattered with blood and grime and gore; no one was pinning this on him. It wasn’t an honor; Archer didn’t feel honorable in this moment. It was duty. A washer retrieved this badge after killing their former chief and got a case of baked beans for his effort. Archer wasn’t going to bring a scrap more attention to the badge than he had to. He didn’t salute because -- and this was bizarre beyond all recognition -- he was now the highest ranking police officer, period. The ceremony ended here. He couldn’t be sure the mayor knew that without him saying so, or even Thomas, but Bran would be able to see that there were threadbare spots in his partner’s emotional armor, that while his expression fought to remain neutral it wasn’t coming as easily. Archer accepted the news and the job and the badge and the oath and it all needed to come to an end.
Wait. No. No, not quite. There were a few things he needed to discuss with Olinger, given that he was now… how did it go? ‘Responsible for the planning, organization, and overall administration of his department as directed by the Mayor and Council.’ No time like the fucking present to show a little initiative.
“With your permission, mayor,” Archer heard himself speaking before the thought is really fully formed, “Like a few minutes of your time. Before I go.” There was an infinitesimal pause. “In private.” He looked first to Thomas, in what he hoped was a suitably apologetic way. Thomas knew him, however distantly, because Archer was good friends with his wife and protective of the couple’s infant son Charlie. The new chief could only hope that the mayor would grant his request and that Thomas wouldn’t feel any compunction about leaving the two gentlemen to a chat. There was a part of Archer that did, in fact, want to know how well he was trusted and respected, whether they would brush him aside.
When he turned to Brannon next, Archer’s expression didn’t have to try to be anything. The emotion from earlier he was able to tamp down -- the grief over their fallen officers, the uncertainty of his new burden, the irritation for how this meeting was handled -- threatened to gain a foothold in the face of Bran’s anger. Overriding any of that bullshit that Archer had to keep under wraps, however, was an easily read and understood expression, a question and a request: Please? Whatever Archer wanted this time for, he was asking Brannon to go along with it. Archer might have gone ahead and been the better man, as Brannon thought, but between the two of them it was clear he had more he wanted to say.