2/2
Archer regarded the mayor in thoughtful silence for a few heartbeats. He glanced over at O'Brien before letting his eyes come to rest on the badge. There was no real way to name everything crusted onto it. At least some of it was blood, given the rusty color. Some of it might have been brain matter, or body fat, or a number of things that Archer wasn't going to be able to get out of his head the next time he closed his eyes to go to sleep... though there was some debate on when that next time would actually be.
After he was shot, after everything in New York, when he sat down and looked at all of the PDs that saw the story on the national news and offered him a job... Archer picked Austin. Austin offered him the sergeant's exam, sight unseen. Austin told him that he would qualify for the lieutenant's exam within a year on the force if his work was as exemplary as his jacket indicated. And Austin told him they'd welcome his partner, too, regardless of whatever findings the Internal Affairs Bureau churned out. A man that saved his partner's life the way Brannon had... a team that had the case-closure rate they did... those were cops Austin wanted. Archer wouldn't always be hitting his head against a brick wall when he wanted to accomplish something. At the same time, he'd learned from nearly being killed. He wasn't going to be the workaholic robot he'd constantly been. Advancement would be nice but he wasn't going to force his life to fit some standard of excellence that didn't fucking matter.
So it was really very funny that badge was being offered to him now, with a warm smile and a sincere 'Congratulations.' If the situation wasn't so fucked up, Archer might've even cracked a grin of his own, a prelude to laughter, because this was just some special kind of irony that fate was smacking him in the face with. It's the end of the world and you're at the end of the line, pal. The king is dead; long live the king. For fuck's sake.
He didn't want it. But Grady hadn't wanted it, either, not really. He'd been the three-star CoS -- Chief of Staff -- the position originally just below Chief of Police. When his predecessor was picked off, he moved up the ladder and the position below him was compressed to make Roccolini his deputy.
It hit Archer then that if he took the badge, he was very likely signing Brannon up for that slot. But Bran was a big boy; he could make his own choices. He'd asked Bran to come with him to Austin, not ordered. They were best friends and no matter how this shook out, Archer was going to need a friend. He was likely going to need a friend more than he would need a deputy. But he did need both. After all, the mayor wasn't asking a question. He was stating a fact. A chief was needed. Archer was next in line.
His few seconds of reasonable silence following Olinger's words were up, and Archer looked him square in the eye as he shifted his cap to the arm of the chair, held out a hand to accept the badge. "Thank you, sir," he said evenly.