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I Come Here, I Tell You Things

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"Come on, this is fun!"

"Fun? We've been standing in the same line for forty-five minutes and we've only moved about ten feet."

"Yeah, but it's a beautiful day! The sun is shining, outside, somewhere, I'm pretty sure. And if there are any birds out there, they'd definitely be singing and..."

"I think that guy over there just puked in his own shoe."

Amy looks in the direction Rosa's pointing and oh, wow, he's putting the shoe back on?


Rosa, surprisingly, laughs.

"You're right, Santiago. This is fun."

Technically, they're both supposed to be taking it easy today. Amy has court in the morning: her third day of testimony in what should have been a simple grand larceny case. But, of course, the defendant spent most of the summer in pre-trial detention spilling everything she'd ever done to everyone within earshot. The entire squad spent almost every waking minute since running back over nearly two decades worth of unsolved cases looking for those that fit the stories snitches kept throwing their way.

And, okay, they're not just supposed to be taking it easy. Technically, both Amy and Rosa are on unpaid leave until the trial is over. At least, that's the latest news they've heard. The review board's decision should be ready by then. It's all standard procedure, nothing to get upset about, although Amy spent two hours in the bathroom crying after Holt and their union reps broke the news.

(Rosa waited until she got home.)

It turns out that if in the course of an investigation you turn up evidence that shows that you made a prior collar that subsequently led to a bad conviction, you get put on involuntary leave. Which, you know, is a good thing that Amy totally agrees with in principle. In practice, though, it's pretty much the worst.

It takes Amy a second to realize Rosa's talking again. They're finally through the gates and someone in the crowd has definitely just lit a joint. Within seconds the whole platform reeks like a college dorm room. There's a likely looking clump of greasy-haired teenagers huddled together about twenty feet away; near them is another group that keeps looking around suspiciously, bearded men with rude but amateur anti-Patriots slogans written on their t-shirts in permanent marker. It's still only the preseason but that's no reason to slack.

"Hey, Earth to Santiago. You're off-duty, remember?"

"I'm just trying to keep sharp," Amy says, a little louder than she intended. One of the teenagers sees her looking their way and nudges the boy next to her. But before Amy can take a step toward them, they scatter into the crowd.

"Well, look sharp on your own time," Rosa tells her. "You run off to deal with these Transit losers and I don't have a beer line buddy."

"A beer line buddy...?"

"You don't seriously think I'm going to sit through an entire game without a beer, do you?"

"Of course not! But there's no need for that," Amy says. She was saving this for when they actually got to the stadium, but what the hell. She pulls out the tickets with a flourish worthy of a magician. "We are sitting in my uncle's suite."

She hasn't seen Rosa smile this big since Hitchcock got his foot caught in a holding cell toilet. "Sweet."


The game is terrible. Just the absolute worst. Somewhere in Brooklyn, Rosa's dad has turned off the television in disgust at least six times by now. She's had to put her phone on airplane mode to stop the stream of "you get down on that field and tell those bums to—" texts.

The beer, however, is excellent. Cold and expensive and always at the ready. At halftime, Rosa stands to find another and has to catch herself against the back of her seat when the whole stadium tilts away from her.

"You okay?" Amy asks, sounding not altogether certain she knows what she's saying.


There's a little buffet set up inside the suite: chafing dishes piled absurdly high with hot and cold foods, like burgers and sausages and potato salad. There are platters of little sandwiches and bowls of candies and some kind of a pasta. It's way too much for the two of them, but they've already made a valiant effort at putting away as much of it as possible.

"How'd your uncle get this thing anyway?" Rosa asks, once she's firmly planted back in her seat with a fresh beer in hand.

"He works private security," Amy says vaguely. "Something something the Mannings. I don't know."

"There's something you don't know?"

"Shut up."

"No, seriously, should I call the captain? You're slipping pretty hard there."

Amy struggles up out of her slouch and plants her feet. "Nope. No captain. I'm solid as a— a something. As a block?"

"Close enough."



There's a rally late in the fourth quarter, for one team or the other, but neither of them notices.

"Is it really asking so much for Teddy to just, I don't know, not be so much?"

Amy's pretty much just slurring all her words into one long stream of noise at this point, but Rosa's still following along. Her head keeps bobbing up and down, anyway.

"Totally. I mean, no. Totally no. Teddy should just be less ... much?"

"Right? I just need him to be less much a little. But it's like he doesn't get it at all."

"What's to get?" Rosa asks, and hiccups.

"What is to get," Amy says, but not like she's agreeing. She sounds like she's a million miles away. Not that Rosa blames her. The suite's really nice and all, but still.

There's a huge roar of noise from the crowd but neither of them stirs to see what's happening. Hopefully it's football-related.

"Are there any of those little sandwiches left?" Rosa asks after a while.

"I think Jake's in love with me," Amy answers, all in a rush. Her face turns green, then grey, then back to the same flushed pink it's been all afternoon.

Rosa finishes her beer. "Duh."

"God, I was really hoping you'd laugh at that."


By the time the cleaning staff manages to kick them out of the suite, they've missed the last bus. And the last train. Probably. Neither of them is really in any condition to find out. Neither of them is really in any condition to be out in public, either. If either one of them came across two women as drunk as they are...

Amy finally rambles to a stop. "I forgot what I was saying."

"I wasn't listening anyway."

They walk arm in arm around the vast stadium until they hit a fence, then sit on a narrow strip of grass to regroup. They're two competent professional adult women who happened to have slightly too much to drink. They can handle this.

Rosa turns her phone back on and calls her dad for a ride.

She tells Amy while they wait, "The last time I had to call him from here, I was thirteen and high as a kite."

Amy gasps. "You just told me a personal thing!"

"You told me Jake's in love with you. I already knew, but still."

"I said 'I think'... Wait, you knew? How long did you know?" Amy's narrow-eyed glare would probably be more effective if she hadn't spent at least the last hour squinting like she'd lost both contacts, which she had.

"How long did you know?" Rosa counters.

"I don't know anything!"

"Uh-huh. So how exactly is Teddy too much?"

Amy splutters for a while. Rosa would smirk about it, but she's been there. There sucks. But maybe it won't suck so bad for Amy. She's smart, and Jake is mostly only acting like an idiot. They'll work it out eventually. And if they don't, it will be kind of fun to watch, at least.

She can always smirk about it later.