McCall's version (fanfic)

After Juliann finished her wonderful Hunter version of the partnership (and I'm sorry, but I can't remember the name right now) I asked if she'd mind if I tried my hand at McCall's verison. So after a L-O-N-G time, I finally have enough that I feel comfortable posting. I've got a pretty busy schedule this time of year, but I hope I'll be able to post at least a section or two a week. And as usual, I have no title. Hope you enjoy it anyway!




McCall gritted her teeth in frustration. Nothing about this partnership was turning out
as planned. The initial offer, which she accepted only because the terms appealed to
her, was erased within days. The captain had figured out what they were up to and
insisted on them actually working together. So instead of reporting for roll call and
signing each other’s reports, she was forced to spent a minimum of eight hours a day
with Rick Hunter.

Until now, the situation had not been entirely unpleasant. She had to grudgingly
admit that they did work well together. His carefree attitude towards the rules and her
innate desire for justice complemented each other. He was committed to the job and
so was she. They worked long hours, hard hours, but neither one of them minded. And
she supposed that there were worse people to spend the majority of your waking hours
with. He knew a lot about the job, had a fairly decent ability to make conversation and
sense of humor, and genuinely seemed to respect her as an officer. And he hadn’t tried
to hit on her once.

So even though it wasn’t what she had signed up for, McCall hadn’t had too many
complaints about this new partnership. Prior to him showing up at the Irish Rose.

“I didn’t ask for your help Hunter.”

“You just don’t know how to ask for help.” She hadn’t asked him to go to her
place, rifle through her things, or track her down, not that any of those actions would
even qualify as help. He hadn’t responded to her assertions to get off her back or give
her space. If anything, her protests caused him to dig in harder.

“After Gus, I never wanted another partner. I never wanted to get that close to
anyone I worked with again.” And for more than a year she’d been successful, keeping
no partner longer than a couple of months, and earning her reputation as the Brass
Cupcake. Yet here she was, standing outside a Century City high rise office, blinking
rapidly to keep the tears from spilling out of her eyes. Her new partner eyed her
carefully, before returning to the office Gus had rented. Having known her only a few
weeks, he had understood immediately what a blow Gus’s parting words had been.
“You never knew me and I never knew you, honey.”



“What’d you say to him, Hunter?” she questioned as they left the building,
attempting to catch up with his long strides.

“Nothing. A hello and a goodbye,” he told her. “I forgot my cigarettes.”

“Hunter, you don’t smoke.”

“I was smokin’ in there,” he replied, a self-satisfied grin on his face. Their
conversation ended when they heard a car speeding out of the underground garage.
Ushering her in the driver’s side door and across the front seat, they followed Gus until
he intentionally drove them off the road. Disbelief at his actions and the entire
situation kept McCall unnaturally quiet on the ride back to the office building. It had
been cleaned out. She knew once they tipped him off Gus would dig himself a hole
until it was time for the contract to be executed. Surveying the barren office shook her
head in utter bewilderment.

“I can’t let him go down like this. He was my partner. I owe him.”

Prepared to lay down one of the fundamental laws of partnership, at least in his
book, Hunter began, “Dee Dee, partners don’t owe. They just do.” His words of
wisdom were cut short by the ringing phone. Hunter’s prediction that he would soon be
contacted by his relatives caused another inward groan. If she did have to have a
partner who ignored her every request for privacy and insisted on inviting himself
where he wasn’t wanted, did it have to be one with connections to the mob?




McCall’s eyes flew open as she saw the glass above her shatter. The events of a
few hours ago had already managed to work their way into her dreams. Ever since
Steve had been killed, her dreams had become more vivid and realistic. Life’s daily
traumas replayed themselves in all their glory in her subconscious at night. Seeing Gus
stand over her with a gun pointed at her heart was not something she wanted to
re-live, real or not. She tried to sit up, but the incision and her broken ribs wouldn’t
allow it. Defeated, she reached for the buttons to adjust the incline of the bed and
wrinkled her nose at the IV that had been placed in her hand. Hearing a knock at the
door she called for the visitor to enter. In limped Hunter.

“Did you break something?” she asked.

“Not quite. In fact, I get to go home tonight,” he gloated, referring to the doctor’s
insistence that she remain in the hospital overnight. “I hope you enjoy your Jello
dinner.”

“Geez Hunter,” she groaned, shaking her head. “We’ve been partners, what...six
weeks now and this is my second time in the hospital! Is this what usually happens to
people who work with you?”

“No, usually after the first time they won’t be my partner anymore,” he quipped.

“I can see why. Hunter, look...” she fumbled. “Thanks. I didn’t want your help,
but you ended up being pretty helpful. So thanks.”

“Hold on a minute here. Do not tell me thanks.” He rushed to ease the offended
expression on her face. “Partners don’t owe, Dee Dee. They just do...whatever they
have to for their partner. As your partner, I’m going to watch out for you and be there
when you need me. That’s how it works.” He watched her digest this information and
continued before she could argue with him. “Lookit, when you’re in a situation, I’m just
going to react, do whatever my gut tells me to make sure you get out of it and are all
right.”

“And when your gut tells you to shatter and jump out of a third story window and
land on top of someone?” He saw the smile pulling at her lips.

“Hey, I never said my gut thought these things through. It’s not so much into
long term consequences.”

“Well, it craves chili dogs, what do you expect,” she said dismissively.