An odd sort of bonding (Flynn, Paul, Bill)
Dec. 16th, 2008 08:20 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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darker_londonFlynn leaned back against the bars of his holding cell, feeling like the biggest idiot to ever walk the Earth. Why hadn't he thought of this? Why hadn't he realised it would be harder to get into London than out of it. Especially if you were a former member of the PIRA and the authorities now knew you had changed your name, thanks to getting arrested again for spitting on a cop. Of course he wasn't going to get three feet past the border before he was pushed into a holding cell for questioning.
It had taken three hours before he was allowed his one phone call, and ringing Tasha hadn't worked out anyway because she hadn't been at her desk. He had left a message with someone at her office and then he had sat down to hope. And that was where he had sat for a further two hours, back aching against the unyielding metal. And then someone Flynn hadn't expected stepped into view.
"What seems to be the trouble here?" Detective Paul Montrose queried to the man who was behind the desk, watching over the holding cells. Captain Bill Cunningham wasn't used to doing duty like this, but it was all part of the job. He looked over the ID Paul handed him.
"Detective Montrose? His papers didn't check out. He has an alert on him. His real name is Malachy O'Reilly, though he's changed his surname to Flynn. Apparently he was a member of the PIRA up north, though they never proved it. His kind don't take kindly to English cops." Bill warned.
Paul just sighed and he turned so he could see Flynn. "Alright, Flynn?"
"Yeah." Flynn leaned up off of the wall and he stretched his back out, trying to release some of the protesting muscles there. "You, Paul?" Paul was not Flynn's favourite person. Flynn still had an instinctive dislike for English cops, excluding Tasha, because of how he had been raised. And it was Paul who had contacted Spectre to tell him who Flynn was in the first place. And while that had all ended up fine, Flynn still felt a little hurt by it. Even if he did feel, had the situations been reversed, he would have done the same thing.
"Doin' alright." Paul turned back to Bill. "As you can see, he has no particular beef with me. I can vouch for this one. He's of no danger to London."
"Are you aqauinted with him?" Bill asked, slightly shocked.
"I've known him over a year." Paul nodded, even if he had never really taken the time to bond with someone who should, by all intents and purposes, loathe him. "He's about as dangerous as a dove."
Flynn scowled at that, but he stood and approached the metal door anyway. He hoped they would open it soon. Flynn had gotten used to the great outdoors being homeless, and he didn't handle being locked up in a tiny room so well. He felt claustrophobic at home and the place was huge, which was why he spent so much time on the roof. This tiny cell was driving him mental. "I just want to go be with my family." Flynn said, because that was true enough. Quinn and the Littletons and Spectre and Deirdre...they were his family. And as much as Tristan was too, if Quinn needed him, he should be there for him. Tristan had told him to be careful, and that's what Flynn was going to be. In London. Dammit.
"I can take him in with me if it will make you feel better, Captain." Paul said, smiling easily at Bill. "You did the right thing here, but this is a good man. Not everyone is doomed to continue the mistakes of their youth, hmm?"
Bill nodded. This was Paul's jurisdiction anyway. He moved to unlock the cell door and he returned Flynn's personal items to him. After signing what felt like a thousand forms, Flynn was allowed to go with Paul.
As they climbed into his car, Flynn looked over at Paul, grey eyes filled with something...possibly humility? "Thank you." Flynn said sincerely, letting his muscles relax against the back of the seat.
"You're welcome, Flynn." Paul smiled and he started the engine. "I'm sorry they detained you. Am I right in assuming you wish to go home?"
"Yes please." Flynn nodded, casting his eyes to the window. "And they were just doing their job. No harm done. You know...I think someone like my brother would have considered that a real honour. Like...they were considered dangerous enough to be detained. Like they were part of an actual army. But Frankie wasn't even part of the IRA, he was just part of the provisional branch. It's easier that way. You don't answer to anyone really. You just do whatever you want and say it's in the name of liberty." Flynn didn't usually talk about things like this. And especially not to an English cop.
"And that's what you used to believe too?" Paul asked, though he was careful to make it sound nothing like an accusation.
"Yeah." Flynn admitted, eyes glued to the scenery outside the vehicle. "But I got over it. It's a stigma coming from where I am. The cops are useless. If you want 'justice' you go to the PIRA. They'll blow out the kneecaps of the person who hurt you, as that's considered justice and then, possibly, go to prison for it where they want to be considered prisoners of war... It's all kinds of fucked up. Bombs go off and people shoot each other in the street, or hide under cars to knife people's ankles and I didn't realise how lucky I was to get out of there. To come to London, which was pretty much considered Devil's Country. And now it's happening here too...even if it is different. The fear in the air... You can feel it." Flynn turned to Paul and he sighed. "I know you told Spectre who I was when I was first staying with him."
Paul nodded. "He's my friend. I just wanted to make sure he was safe. I know now that he always was, but I didn't know then."
"'sokay." Flynn said softly. "He understood. He didn't hate me. And I learned that people don't necessarily hold their pasts against them." Flynn turned to face Paul again. "And I don't hate you. Even if I was taught I should. I don't. But you had reason to think I might and you came here to get me anyway."
"You're a friend of Tasha's and she was busy. She's my partner." It was really as simple as that. Paul would do anything for Tasha.
"Well, I appreciate it." Flynn smiled then, despite everything he was feeling. Despite his past which screamed at him that he shouldn't. Paul deserved that.
It had taken three hours before he was allowed his one phone call, and ringing Tasha hadn't worked out anyway because she hadn't been at her desk. He had left a message with someone at her office and then he had sat down to hope. And that was where he had sat for a further two hours, back aching against the unyielding metal. And then someone Flynn hadn't expected stepped into view.
"What seems to be the trouble here?" Detective Paul Montrose queried to the man who was behind the desk, watching over the holding cells. Captain Bill Cunningham wasn't used to doing duty like this, but it was all part of the job. He looked over the ID Paul handed him.
"Detective Montrose? His papers didn't check out. He has an alert on him. His real name is Malachy O'Reilly, though he's changed his surname to Flynn. Apparently he was a member of the PIRA up north, though they never proved it. His kind don't take kindly to English cops." Bill warned.
Paul just sighed and he turned so he could see Flynn. "Alright, Flynn?"
"Yeah." Flynn leaned up off of the wall and he stretched his back out, trying to release some of the protesting muscles there. "You, Paul?" Paul was not Flynn's favourite person. Flynn still had an instinctive dislike for English cops, excluding Tasha, because of how he had been raised. And it was Paul who had contacted Spectre to tell him who Flynn was in the first place. And while that had all ended up fine, Flynn still felt a little hurt by it. Even if he did feel, had the situations been reversed, he would have done the same thing.
"Doin' alright." Paul turned back to Bill. "As you can see, he has no particular beef with me. I can vouch for this one. He's of no danger to London."
"Are you aqauinted with him?" Bill asked, slightly shocked.
"I've known him over a year." Paul nodded, even if he had never really taken the time to bond with someone who should, by all intents and purposes, loathe him. "He's about as dangerous as a dove."
Flynn scowled at that, but he stood and approached the metal door anyway. He hoped they would open it soon. Flynn had gotten used to the great outdoors being homeless, and he didn't handle being locked up in a tiny room so well. He felt claustrophobic at home and the place was huge, which was why he spent so much time on the roof. This tiny cell was driving him mental. "I just want to go be with my family." Flynn said, because that was true enough. Quinn and the Littletons and Spectre and Deirdre...they were his family. And as much as Tristan was too, if Quinn needed him, he should be there for him. Tristan had told him to be careful, and that's what Flynn was going to be. In London. Dammit.
"I can take him in with me if it will make you feel better, Captain." Paul said, smiling easily at Bill. "You did the right thing here, but this is a good man. Not everyone is doomed to continue the mistakes of their youth, hmm?"
Bill nodded. This was Paul's jurisdiction anyway. He moved to unlock the cell door and he returned Flynn's personal items to him. After signing what felt like a thousand forms, Flynn was allowed to go with Paul.
As they climbed into his car, Flynn looked over at Paul, grey eyes filled with something...possibly humility? "Thank you." Flynn said sincerely, letting his muscles relax against the back of the seat.
"You're welcome, Flynn." Paul smiled and he started the engine. "I'm sorry they detained you. Am I right in assuming you wish to go home?"
"Yes please." Flynn nodded, casting his eyes to the window. "And they were just doing their job. No harm done. You know...I think someone like my brother would have considered that a real honour. Like...they were considered dangerous enough to be detained. Like they were part of an actual army. But Frankie wasn't even part of the IRA, he was just part of the provisional branch. It's easier that way. You don't answer to anyone really. You just do whatever you want and say it's in the name of liberty." Flynn didn't usually talk about things like this. And especially not to an English cop.
"And that's what you used to believe too?" Paul asked, though he was careful to make it sound nothing like an accusation.
"Yeah." Flynn admitted, eyes glued to the scenery outside the vehicle. "But I got over it. It's a stigma coming from where I am. The cops are useless. If you want 'justice' you go to the PIRA. They'll blow out the kneecaps of the person who hurt you, as that's considered justice and then, possibly, go to prison for it where they want to be considered prisoners of war... It's all kinds of fucked up. Bombs go off and people shoot each other in the street, or hide under cars to knife people's ankles and I didn't realise how lucky I was to get out of there. To come to London, which was pretty much considered Devil's Country. And now it's happening here too...even if it is different. The fear in the air... You can feel it." Flynn turned to Paul and he sighed. "I know you told Spectre who I was when I was first staying with him."
Paul nodded. "He's my friend. I just wanted to make sure he was safe. I know now that he always was, but I didn't know then."
"'sokay." Flynn said softly. "He understood. He didn't hate me. And I learned that people don't necessarily hold their pasts against them." Flynn turned to face Paul again. "And I don't hate you. Even if I was taught I should. I don't. But you had reason to think I might and you came here to get me anyway."
"You're a friend of Tasha's and she was busy. She's my partner." It was really as simple as that. Paul would do anything for Tasha.
"Well, I appreciate it." Flynn smiled then, despite everything he was feeling. Despite his past which screamed at him that he shouldn't. Paul deserved that.
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