Chapter Text
Clarke's running along a drab corridor fearing for her life, harsh neon lights overhead.
She's tried her best to barricade the door behind her with a filing cabinet, but her pursuers are already beating against it, threatening to break it down any minute now. The goddamn building is like a maze, just foreclosed offices stacked against each other in a soulless concrete husk. No other living soul in sight.
As she runs as fast as her legs will carry her one of her heels breaks, making her stumble, hands bracing against the drywall to stay upright. She slips out of the uncomfortable shoes and throws away some of the cheap dollar store jewelry she's wearing too for good measure, almost there. Almost there. She repeats it under her breath like a mantra. Almost there.
Hinges break and the door bangs open.
“Get back here, bitch.” She hears in a thick Slavic accent as the thugs crowd in, stepping over the useless obstacles she's put in their way.
Keep going, almost there! She finally reaches the exit, but it doesn't budge. She desperately rattles at the handle, heavy steps behind her growing closer, cursing and the clacking of guns being cocked with it. Some more time, that's all she needs. Just a little bit more. She bangs her shoulder against the cheap timber, but it might as well be a brick wall. Come on!
Shots ring out and she jerks up, tangled in her sweat drenched bed sheets.
It takes the blonde several long moments to get her bearing and to recognize her dark bedroom. Fuck! The dreams may have grown less frequent, but they still pack a mean punch. Today off all days she really doesn't need the distraction, so she rummages around in her nightstand. There were some pills to help a bit with the situation, but she’s stopped taking them after the shortest advised time frame and never refilled the prescription.
Very fucking smart, Clarke. As usual.
She lets herself fall back on the mattress breathing in and out slowly, only kind of remembering how the exercise is supposed to work, but after a minute or two the hammering in her chest slows down to a manageable beat and she rubs her face to get some feeling back. She’s about to reach for her cellphone to check the time, when the doorbell starts to ring like crazy, short continued bursts of the ringer. That probably means it's morning, she hopes.
“Yeah, yeah, I'm coming. Jeeesus.”
Still a bit bleary eyed she crosses the living room barefoot and fumbles to unlock the front door so Octavia can burst inside. The microwave blinks 6:45.
“Rise and shine! Are you ready? It's gonna be awesome!”
How the hell can she have that kind of energy barely after dawn? Clarke just grunts in response and goes for one of the coffee's her friend is holding. I mean... Of course she's ready, it's what she's spent her entire adult life working towards, but her noticeable lack of enthusiasm must give the brunette some pause at least. A worried crinkle forms on the brunette's forehead when she frowns.
"Nightmares, still?"
"No. All good." She lies and busies herself with the beverage. “It's just too early.”
“Whatever you say, Princess.” The younger Blake responds utterly unconvinced, “I was thinking you could jump in the shower, make yourself presentable and then we'll stop for some greasy breakfast on the way? My treat.”
“Sure.”
“Then go, we don't have all day. Go, go, go!” She pats her on the ass a few times, trying to make her get a move on. “There's some pretty heavy stuff I have to get your take on, I'm not doing this out of the goodness of my heart. Personal stuff.” She winks, “Sexy stuff.”
“Oh please god no. Why do you always have to...”
“Who the hell is yelling at this ungodly hour?” A third, hoarse voice comes from the backrooms of the small apartment, followed by the sounds of a theatrical shuffle until Raven emerges with her hair in a ruffled mess.
O stifles a laugh and smirks, “Long night?”
“None of your business, cop. I have half a day off and I was making good use of it before you started screaming to high heavens.” The newly arrived plops down on the couch making grabby hands until somebody passes her a paper cup too, to which she opens the lid and takes in a deep breath of the aroma. “But I guess I can just drink this and go right back to bed for a few hours.”
“Weirdo.”
“Mmh. Hey, how come you never ask me for advice?”
“Because I know your life?”
“Hey, you can't just come into my house and start attacking me. Before dawn no less!”
Having had enough of their rapid fire banter for the time being Clarke waves at them both and makes her way towards the bathroom, picking up some clean clothes on the way. She loves those two, really does from the bottom of her heart, but sometimes...
"Have a good first day at school, Clarkey." She hears her roommate call out, just before she closes the door behind her.
"Thanks, Rae. See you after work."
- - -
<Good luck for today, honey. I'm proud of you. Mom.>
Clarke smiles and pockets the phone. She's always wanted to be a cop, just like her father. Her mother of course wasn't thrilled about it at first, not so secretly hoping she would grow out of it, but that never happened.
She and the Blakes, neighbors without much of a father figure of their own, were utterly obsessed with everything 5-0 growing up and Jake's later death in the line of duty only transformed their childish games into steely determination. Now here she was, about to be the final one of their trio to cross the threshold of the 12th precinct and wear the badge.
After a shower and something to eat the blonde's mood has significantly improved, some of that missing excitement even starting to finally bubble up. Octavia had chickened out from actually broaching whatever dating thing she was mulling over for the last few weeks, opting instead for an extensive and very involved crash course in all the various personalities Clarke would meet at her new workplace.
Her friend's TO is pretty great apparently, the shift sergeant strict but fair, and the captain, well... “I've seriously never seen her smile, or move any face muscle for that matter, so maybe try to stay clear of her as long as possible. Bell says she's good police, but I really don't want to put that to the test if I can help it. Of course she'll probably love you, hotshot...”
“Please don't start again.” She begs as they pull into the station's parking lot.
“Whatever, Donny Brasco. I'll show you where the lockers are. Just as long as you always remember that they chose you for that assignment, because my...”
“Your brother is a dick.” Clarke finishes, shaking her head and stiffing a laugh as Octavia almost singsongs the words with her. It's a frequently used phrase with them.
“He is! It's not favoritism if I'm top of the class!”
“Better luck next time.”
It's not the first time since the academy that she's worn the uniform, but she still takes an extra moment to properly button up her shirt, check her gun and make sure she'll make a good first impression. Finally she slips on her father's old watch and secures the clasp around her wrist.
This is it. No more training wheels.
Looking up she notices another female officer has made her way inside, a striking brunette with green eyes currently binding her mane back into an orderly ponytail. Momentarily distracted from her inner monologue, she gives Octavia a questioning look and silently nods in the woman's direction, but her friend just shrugs. By the way she carries herself and the practiced ease with her firearm she's probably not a rookie, but she's never seen her before.
“I can definitely ask around if you want.” She whispers suggestively as soon as they are out of earshot, checking her shoulder against Clarke's.
“You are literally the worst.”
Any further discussion of the matter is cut off though, as there's an intimidating bunch waiting right outside in the hallway, looking rough and tumble enough to be at home in one of the cells if it wasn't for the badges hanging from their necks. As soon as the brunette comes out the door after them they start to snicker and holler like little children.
“Commander in the house!” And imposing bearded fellow mock salutes.
It's hard to follow the ruckus as they all talk over each other, but they are definitely teasing her for something, she however takes it in stride and shoves them out of her way laughing, peaking Clarke's curiosity even more. She would have definitely tried to eavesdrop a bit longer if she hadn't her own welcoming committee to engage.
“Officer Griffin.” Wells smiles warmly opening his arms out to get a hug, which she happily gives. “Looking sharp in blue, but we already knew that.”
After the initial greeting he quickly frees up one arm to snap a few embarrassing selfies, for Abby and the family album no doubt, filed right next to the two of them in their matching police costumes when they were eight. Their fathers had ridden the same car for years, making them close family friends and attending police station barbecues and soft ball games together since kindergarten. One more reason for the 12th to feel like home.
“What's going on there?” She asks, pointing to the other gathering.
“No idea,” He shrugs, sending off his ill gotten pics, “that's the Major Crimes Unit, they have... their own things going on. How are you feeling?”
“All good. Ready for action.” She grins.
“Hi Clarke.”
Turning around she sees another old acquaintance coming up towards them adjusting his holster, one she could have done without.
“Finn.” She nods coldly.
Thankful she has plenty of backup and before Octavia can say anything too brash, Wells clears his voice. “Was there something you needed, officer Collins?”
“No sir, just wanted to say hi. I'm sure we'll see each other around.” He brings to fingers up to his head for some kind of awkward salute, then continues on along his way.
“Some things never change...”
“Yeah well, at least you don't have to ride eight hours a day with him. I'm still trying to figure out who settled me with that little surprise.” The older policeman shakes his head, “ Come, you don't want to be late the first day."
- - -
Roll call is strangely reminiscent of high school, with rows of cops sitting at small tables chattering on about this and that until the teacher comes in to bring order, rookies of course all sitting in the very first row under sergeant Miller's stern gaze.
“Main news of the day is of course that our trainees have officially ended their probationary period and are now a step closer to being real policemen and -women, give them a quick round of applause.” He starts magnanimously, and the gathered crowd obliges with clapping and even a few whistles which make Octavia grin like the Cheshire cat.
“Just a quick one, because the last thing I need is for them is to grow an even bigger head than they already have. I see you Blake, one step closer, still a long road ahead.
Second point of order, we have some new arrivals today.
Clarke Griffin, who some of you went through the academy with, finished her fancy stint undercover recently and has now decided to finally slum it with us lowly beat cops.” That gives way to some good-natured ribbing, the sergeant continuing on over the noise. “The brass has seen fit to waive her probation, so she skips in front with the rest of you reprobates. Murphy's your FTO, he'll sort you out.”
The officer he points to is a man in his mid thirties lounging in the back rows managing to look both bored and annoyed at once. Instead of a smile, he just gives her a two finger salute and turns back to whatever paperwork he was filling out. Not very encouraging, but she decides to forgo judgment until later.
“Just a reminder for our usual gossip mill, the case is still in court and the details are not to be discussed at the moment. I'm sure she will tell us all her war stories in due time. Now, speaking of war stories...
Miller brings their attention to the brunette from the lockers.
“Detective Lexa Woods here transferred down from Major Crimes division to wear her uniform again effective immediately. Her experience with local gangs and organized crime will come in handy I'm sure, feel free to get in touch with her should the need arise. She's also completed her FTO certification last week so we'll put her to good use as soon as possible, 'till the next class of trainees comes in next fall she's going to stay in rotation to cover openings. That means that vacation days are back on the menu, folks.”
That gets her a fair share of claps and cheers, giving Clarke an excuse to sneak another good look at the woman. Octavia of course catches her and gives her a knowing look, but she tells herself it's not only because detective Woods is attractive, which she has to admit is undoubtedly true. No chance her friend would believe her though.
“All other assignments stay as before: Blake with Forrester, Collins with Wells, Jordan and Wick, Green and Miller Jr. I expect monthly progress reports as usual. There are no particular notices from the night shift, small wonder there... That being said, we've been in here for far too long, time to go out there and do your job. Stay safe.”
- - -
Clarke quickly catches up with some of the other rookies she knows as they go check out their duty bags from the armory, then walks out to the parking lot where Murphy is chatting lazily with another officer. Her temporary partner is sitting in the passenger side of their car, while the other one, a blonde man named Wick she thinks, is leaning against the hood of his own smoking a cigarette.
“It's a demotion, come on, has to be.” She hears him muse between puffs. “Nobody gets to plainclothes and comes back.”
“I don't know, Old Miller isn't a guy to mince words, if she had a black mark against her we would know.”
“Not if it's sealed. Some kind of settlement maybe, a lawsuit?”
“Maybe. Seems to me he was rolling out the red carpet though, not covering for her.”
“We'll know soon enough. No secrets in the family.”
As per regulation she puts most of the equipment in the trunk, securing the shotgun in it's intended place before going around the car and slipping inside. Apparently her training officer prefers her to drive, which she's more than fine with.
“You guys talking about Detective Woods?” She offers casually, but he gives her a dry look.
“Keep the snooping for the criminals, trainee.”
“Yes sir.”
So much for a smooth introduction. He nods his goodbyes to the other officers in the lot and rolls up the window, turning towards her.
“Let's go over the basics before we start. From next shift onward I expect you to check our cruiser out and make sure it's clean before roll call, don't let the guys from motor pool bully you into one of the smelly or broken ones.”
“Of course.”
“Before you respond to a call on the radio you'll wait for my go ahead, I'll decide if they merit attention or not until I know I can trust you to make those decisions. We won't be tied up all day with bullshit because you want to earn extra credit.”
“Ok, but... Don't we have to respond? By regulation and by.. law?”
“Not if somebody else does first.” He explains promptly, “Don't worry, we won't leave anybody to bleed out on the pavement, but when it comes to writing parking tickets or noise complaints there's no reason to rush. You can consider that your first lesson.”
She nods a bit taken aback and he gestures for her to start the car. This is shaping up to be a very different experience than she anticipated. Murphy isn’t done yet either.
“I asked for you to be assigned to me because I figure you won't be too much work. Your dad was a cop, so I bet you know all about procedure and stuff already, plus your undercover assignment tells me you had good grades at the academy and have probably learned to stay alive on your own by now. I'll impart the missing street knowledge and this will go over easy for the both of us. Guaranteed pass. Sounds good?”
“Why are you even a FTO if you don't like teaching?” Clarke asks before she can think better of it, but he just chuckles, not at all offended by her question.
“Pay bump, and a substantial one. Now, our day starts with a stop at the corner coffee shop. I take mine black, two sugars.” He pulls out a few bills from his wallet and holds them out for her. “Get yourself whatever you want, as long as you can eat or drink it while driving.”
- - -
Their morning is spent mostly cruising around the neighborhood so she can familiarize herself with the geography and frequent problem locations, but there’s not a lot of actual policing going on. Some of the advice Murphy gives her is actually quite useful, but his casual approach to the job is taking some getting used to. She decides to forgo judgement for the time being.
At some point she comments that she was hoping to at least see some action her first day.
“Don’t you dare jinx it.”
Not ten minutes later the radio comes to live to inform them about a 911 call in their area and he gives her another of his sour looks. “Well, here we go then. Take it.”
When they pull up on the curb in front of the small supermarket a rotund man in a dirty white t-shirt is already holding court there with a bunch of gawking onlookers.
“About time!” He yells out as soon as they approach, “This whino tried to fleece me, I have it all on tape! I want him arrested right this moment!”
The homeless person in question, a man in his late fifties with a bushy beard and mismatched shoes, is sitting on the ground casting a rather sad image. He doesn't even look up at his public scolding, just rubbing each knuckle of his hand in some kind of nervous tick and flinching when the other guy gets too close or loud.
Murphy fishes out a notebook signaling her to follow, “What’s he taken then?”
“Bread, canned peas, some other stuff from the food aisle, all stuffed in that disgusting coat he’s wearing, no way I can sell it now. Do you need me to put together the total value?”
“That won’t be necessary,” The training officer tells him without having taken a single word down on paper, “Listen, we can try to persecute if you want, but honestly you won’t get anything out of it money wise and cops will have to be in and out of here for a few weeks to put together the case. Bad for business I think. How about I throw him in the drunk tank for a night instead?”
He is fuming, taking a few aggressive steps towards them. “So he gets a roof over his head for a night and a warm meal for robbing me? I don’t think so.”
“Ok, let’s do this then. Office Griffin, please go inside and start collecting the necessary info. We’ll start with a statement, then we’ll need the business license number and internal layout for the report. Tapes have to be authenticated too.” He turns to the guy, “It’s probably best you close for the day, this will take a while.”
Clarke does as she is told, a bit taken aback by the suddenly very by the book approach her fellow officer is taking, but the prospect of losing half a day’s worth of revenue doesn’t seem to sit right with the owner of the small business, who scoffs and mutters to himself before shaking his head. “Oh goddammit, fine. Night in jail it is, just get him out of here.
The pencil goes back into his breast pocket and Murphy gestures to the homeless. “Come with me please, Sir.”
The shoplifter follows them to the car without protest or need of handcuffs and sits quietly in the back seat as they drive off from the scene, after a moment Clarke sees her colleague turn around towards him. “What’s up Jay, you are usually a big earner.”
“My subway station is closed for maintenance, not a lot of food traffic in the area.” He answers with a shrug, “I was planning to pay him back when I had the money, I swear”
“Makes sense.” Pulling out ten dollars, Murphy sticks them between the mesh separating them. “There’s another minimart at the end of the street, better go there, this one you better keep away from for a while.”
“Yeah, no kidding. Thanks Murphy.”
He nods and gestures for her to pull over to let the man out, which she does before starting the car again, but her confusion must be pretty visible, because after a few moments of silence the training officer rolls his eyes. “What?”
“Aren’t we supposed to bring him in?”
“Who needs the paperwork. Plus it’s lunch time, there’s a good taco place here on the left.”
“Yes sir.”
- - -
The shift ends up being much longer and more exhausting than she could ever have imagined, but even if she was falling asleep on her feet Clarke wouldn’t skip her first end of day beer at the Cheap Shot, the local cop bar.
When she pushes past the old wooden door with Octavia her eyes immediately search out Jake’s picture hanging on the wall, smiling next to Jaha and some other guys with a horrendous mustache that he thankfully put to rest soon after the picture was taken. There's dozens of other old photographs of honored veterans adorning the place along with memorabilia and trophies of various city leagues. She’s been here a few times, but now she belongs.
“I mean, I can see that she's getting queasy so I tell him I will do it and he almost throws the thing at me.” She hears Raven recount far too loudly to an amused audience in a corner booth, “I had to catch it, can you imagine if it had fallen to the floor? Anyway, I take the severed hand, push it up next to the wrist and don't you know it... they don't match.”
She basks in the disgusted noises like it was applause before continuing to tell the story about some gruesome murder she's working on at the crime lab.
“Whose hand is it then?” Jasper asks laughing.
“How the hell should I know, but what are the chances they find a guy without a hand and a hand without a guy on the same day? Only in Chicago, I tell you.” Looking up and seeing her and O approach her eyes light up. “Hey, it's my favorite rookie!! Come here.”
She hugs Clarke tightly, clearly tipsy, and waves the others off when they protest. “It's true, deal with it. She's my roomie! My bestie! And she owes me a beer!”
Monty, Jasper, Wells, Miller Jr are all already there, other small groups of cops having their own conversations all around as she goes to get drinks. Clarke notices the detectives from Major Crimes against the back and looks for Woods, but she isn't there. Octavia's FTO Lincoln is though, and they seem to be having their own great time.
As is Finn. While she waits for her order to be prepared he leans against the counter next to her and gives her one of his patented boyish grins. “Hey princess, it’s really good to have you finally among us. How about we get out of here and celebrate?”
“In your dreams.” She scoffs and physically pushes him away a foot or two, which makes his charming facade melt away.
“I don't get you Clarke, I haven't seen you in almost a year and now you're blowing me off like it's nothing? What the hell? I thought there was something between us.”
“We broke up, Finn, that means I get to blow you off whenever I want. As in always.”
“We just took a pause. I don't see why we can't...”
Not again. Unwilling to have him ruin her good time she squares off against the fellow rookie and very slowly explains herself for what she hopes will be the last time. “We broke up. You got whiny, because you couldn't handle that I got a special assignment and you didn't, and you all but told me to choose. I did. Now leave me alone.”
“That's not how that went down and you know it. I..” He tries to argue, but the blonde just takes her tray of beers and walks off towards her friends, who in the meantime have taken over the darts game. New job. New Clarke. No looking back.
This is going to be awesome.