Send me a number and two characters - get a drabble. 16. Donald Cragen and the basketball monkey.
Thanks for the prompt! This ended up being longer than a drabble, and I’m not entirely happy with the ending, but here goes. (And if anybody else wants to send me more, my askbox is always open.)
Spoilers for “Wildlife” and “Amaro’s One-Eighty.”
Questioning
Was she ready?
That question had lingered in Don’s mind for weeks, ever since Eileen asked him to join her on a cruise around the world. He’d taken to watching Olivia closely, trying to picture her as commanding officer of the Special Victims Unit. In some ways he thought she’d be a natural—in a sense, she had been literally born for this job. The rest of the squad certainly looked up to her. But Don knew from experience that it was lonely at the top, and with Olivia still recovering from her ordeal, she needed the support system their close-knit unit provided now more than ever. Could she lead the squad without isolating herself from them?
As he trudged through his front door, it took him a moment to realize that his big old house wasn’t quite as empty as it normally was; he and Eileen had finally exchanged keys, and for the first time in many years he was greeted with the smell of dinner on the stove. Sure enough, his girlfriend met him in the living room, lights blazing in the kitchen behind her.
“Have you told them yet?” she asked anxiously.
He shook his head, then kissed her softly on the lips. “I will,” he said. “When they’re ready.”
“When you’re ready.” Eileen smirked. “Honestly, Don, you’re just retiring. It’s not like you’re never going to see them again. Look at John, he still keeps in touch.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.”
“I know.” Eileen stepped closer and slipped her arms around him. “She’ll be fine.”
Don leaned down to return the embrace, and as he did his eyes fell on the little stuffed monkey in a cut-open basketball that he kept on a shelf above his TV. Fin and Olivia had bought it for him years ago as a gag—they’d never let him live down his momentary friendship with the real thing. He’d pretended to be annoyed the morning that he came in and found the toy sitting at his desk with his detectives giggling like children in the background, but he’d held onto it as a reminder of better times.
“What say we go out tomorrow?” Don suggested. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
***
It was early, and the Central Park Zoo hadn’t yet filled with tourists. Don paid the entrance fee for himself and Eileen, and led her directly to the monkey exhibit.
“We’re meeting someone here?” Eileen asked, scanning the faces in the crowd around them.
Don gently laid a hand on her shoulder, and, once he had her attention, pointed to a particular monkey sitting on a rock near the hot spring. “See that little guy? I know him.”
Eileen looked up at him quizzically. “You… come here often?”
Don smiled and filled her in on the animal smuggling case his squad had stumbled into five years earlier. “And the thing is, that case was awful. One of my detectives was shot, his cover blown. Liv had to pull a UC off the edge of a roof. Not to mention, it wasn’t even supposed to be our case. But as bad as things got, my guys still look back and joke about that stupid monkey. They still found something to laugh about. And the thing that worries me is, I can’t remember the last time that happened.”
“It’s been a rough year for all of you,” Eileen conceded.
“Every year in this job is rough,” Don replied. “Most cops can’t handle this unit. Looking back, you know when I first realized that each of my detectives was going to cut it?”
Eileen shook her head.
“It was the first time I saw each of them making the others laugh. You have to be able to laugh in this job—not at the cases, and never at the victims, but you have to be able to laugh at something just to drown out all the other noise, all the images that it puts in your head. And lately I’ve been wondering, you know, after everything, can they still do that? Because if they can’t, they’re not gonna make it.”
They fell into silence, both preoccupied with their own thoughts. Finally Eileen took out her phone, snapped a picture of Don’s old primate acquaintance, and texted it to Olivia.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“You want to know if she can still laugh?” Eileen said, holding up her phone. “Call her and find out.”
