Chapter Text
“Patrol Officer,” Jean Vicquemare says from the podium, “what’s the status of the target?”
“All clear, Sir,” Judit Minot says from the front row. “He’s back at the 57th today to pick up his personal items from there.”
Jean nods. “Sergeant McLaine, does the target know of our intentions?”
“Nuh-uh,” Chester McLaine says with a lazy grin. “We’ve all kept it tip-top secret from him. ‘Course, it helped that Dick Mullen here only found out about our plans before this meeting---”
Jean glances at the corner of the room, where his former partner, Harry Du Bois, is frowning indignantly in his seat.
“I wouldn’t have told him anything!” Harry says, with a whine in his voice that attached a silent, “... maybe,” to the end of his sentence.
Jean sighs. The entire Division’s decision to withhold information from Harry was based on the fact that ever since Lt. Kim Kitsuragi’s transfer to Precinct 41, he and Harry were practically attached to the hip. Within his first week at the precinct, the lieutenant quickly established a reputation among the officers as a living saint by exercising a seemingly endless amount of patience towards Harry, who had taken it upon himself to follow Kim around like an eager, unkempt puppy.
“It’s all right. I actually enjoy his company,” Kim admitted to Jean during one of their shared breaks. “And besides, if he’s with me, then he’s not bothering anyone else.”
Namely, you, Kim had deliberately not said to Jean.
Jean admitted that the lieutenant made a very good point.
At the same time, Jean also had to repeatedly tell himself that Harry’s attachment to Kim was of no consequence to him whatsoever. After all, he had only been Harry’s partner during the six nightmare-ish years when Harry was hell-bent on destroying himself and everyone around him, while Kim had only been Harry’s partner during that fateful week in Martinaise.
So yes, Jean was definitely okay with the attention that Harry was showering on Kim.
Yes.
Definitely okay.
Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Jean looks around the room and takes stock of the meeting’s attendees. Practically the whole Major Crimes Division was there, except for Kim. There was Harry, Chester, Mack, Judit, and Trant, who had enthusiastically agreed to be part of this whole operation. Jules couldn’t afford to leave the Communications Post, and Nix Gottlieb begged off from the meeting, saying that he was too old to be planning parties. The lazareth did say that he was willing to provide emergency medical support during the night of the party. After all, the last time that they had one of these things, someone had too many drinks and gracefully fell on a knife---
Jean kind of felt sorry for everything that Lazareth Gottlieb had to put up from the precinct, but then again, Jean had to put up with the exact same things too.
So, they were even.
“Alright, let’s get this damn thing started,” Jean says, smacking a gavel onto the podium. “Commencing the planning and strategy meeting for Operation: Welcome to Precinct 41, Lt. Kim Kitsuragi.”
Trant raises his hand.
“Yes, Heidelstam?”
“Thanks, Jean. Did we really have to give this thing an official name? It’s a bit... excessive, isn’t it?”
“Everyone else seemed okay with it. We already used, ‘Operation: Get Absolutely Shitfaced,' for the New Year's Party, so we had to be creative for this one.”
Before Trant could object to Jean’s constant use of profanity, Judit saves the day by raising her hand.
“Yes, Patrol Officer Minot.”
“I’ve already booked the catering, Sir. They’re asking if we need utensils, and also if we’d like tables and chairs.”
“Oh, I can bring utensils!” Mack volunteers. “My momma loves it when we have parties like these over here.”
“Thank you, Torson. And no need for tables and chairs, Patrol Officer.”
Judit nods and scribbles something into her notebook.
“Alright. Does anyone else have any updates?”
Chester raises his hand.
“Go ahead, McLaine.”
“What kind of booze does the lieutenant like? I’m about to go shopping tonight, and I ain’t willing to shell out cold, hard cash for something that he won’t like.”
Jean’s about to point out that Chester will get reimbursed by the precinct for his expenses when suddenly, Harry chimes in.
“Kim doesn’t drink,” he says.
Everyone turns to look at Harry.
Flustered by the sudden attention, Harry puts his hands up in front of him. “I uh. What I meant was that... I’ve never seen him drink before, and he’s pretty uptight about vices in general.”
Unlike you, everyone in the room thinks.
Harry sweats bullets.
“But... maybe he does drink? I don’t know. I might be wrong.”
Jean frowns. If Kim didn’t drink alcohol, then this party would make its mark on Precinct 41’s history by being the first ever sober party. No drunken fights. No shameful slurs. No inebriated wailing of old disco songs.
Jean tries to imagine the last time that he was at a party like that, and fails miserably.
“Chester, go buy whatever you want,” he quickly says. “If the lieutenant doesn’t drink, then by hell, everyone else will.”
McLaine gives a joyful whoop. “Yeah! You got it, Boss!”
Harry looks like he’s about to protest, but he clams up in the face of Chester’s enthusiasm and the withering glare that Jean gives him.
“Anyone else have something to say?” Jean asks.
Mack raises his hand.
Jean ignores him. “No questions? Alright then---”
Mack waves his hand so vigorously that he almost smacks Chester on the head. “Boss! I have a question!”
Jean sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t get paid enough for this.
“Yes, Torson. Your mother can make vanilla waffles for the party.”
Mack gasps. His eyes become as big as saucers.
“Boss,” he says with awe and wonder. “How---how’d you know that I was going to ask that???”
“Because you always ask that in every party, you numbskull,” Chester says.
Mrs. Torson was a sweet, little old lady who was just a bit less than half the size of her son. She loved the fact that her baby boy --- and Jean still has conniptions that she calls Mack that --- is a police officer, and has taken it upon herself to support the RCM’s peacekeeping efforts by making devastatingly delicious vanilla waffles for their parties.
Jean resolutely does not tell her that her son’s main peacekeeping method is to smash criminals’ skulls against the nearest brick wall, or in the absence of any available walls, against the nearest other skull. If that criminal is particularly unlucky, that skull would be to be Torson’s own skull, which happens to be denser than most brick walls that Jean has encountered.
“Any other questions?”
Trant raises his hand again.
“Heidelstam.”
“Just a suggestion, Lieutenant,” Trant says with an earnest smile. “Maybe we can all pitch in so that we can buy a gift for Lt. Kitsuragi? Gifts have been scientifically proven to be one of the most effective ways to boost camaraderie between colleagues, especially in stressful occupations like law enforcement.”
Once his brain catches up with everything that Trant just said, Jean mulls over the suggestion.
Meanwhile, he thinks that if someone could invent a way to convert earnestness and good will into a power source, Trant could light up the entire precinct. Maybe the entire city block, even.
“I don’t see why not,” Jean says carefully. “But we might as well have a vote. Everyone in favor, raise your hand.”
Everyone raises their hand.
... Well, almost everyone.
Jean’s eyebrow twitches.
“Lt. Double-Yefreitor Du Bois,” he says. “Do you have any objections against Civilian Volunteer Heidelstam’s suggestion?”
Startled, Harry blinks and straightens up in his chair.
“No! I’m not against it,” Harry says. Then, he sheepishly scratches his head. “It’s just that... Erm. I was planning on buying my own gift... For Kim, I mean.”
Jean lets that statement hang in the air for a moment.
Then, he says, “In that case, we’ll go ahead with Heidelstam’s suggestion. But,” he gives Harry a pointed look, “maybe you can enlighten us all by telling us what Lt. Kitsuragi likes?”
For the second time in the meeting, all eyes in the room turn to Harry, who visibly starts to sweat.
Jean tries to stifle the smug, malicious pleasure that he feels upon seeing Harry’s discomfort.
“After all,” Jean says, twisting the proverbial knife, “you’re the one who’s spent the most time with Lt. Kitsuragi. Why, you practically spent most of your time here at the precinct with him---”
All eyes in the room start to ping-pong between Jean and Harry. The tension is almost palpable --- Judit’s face is drawn with worry, Chester gulps nervously, Trant frowns at Jean’s tirade, and Mack seems to have no idea what’s going on.
Jean ignores all of that and presses on. “—so please. Tell us what kind of gift Lt. Kitsuragi would appreciate. Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor.”
Harry winces at hearing his title being said with such spite.
Jean stands back and crosses his arms, waiting for Harry’s answer.
Harry gulps.
“Well. Kim. Uh, Kim... likes cars.”
The silence that rings out in the room at this revelation is deafening.
Jean arches an eyebrow.
“McLaine,” he says.
Chester jumps in his chair, terrified of being pulled into whatever it is that’s happening. “Uh. Yes, Boss?”
“Did you know that about the lieutenant?” Jean asks, while keeping his gaze leveled at Harry.
Chester scratches his head. “Yeah, ‘course I did. The lieutenant’s practically a member of the mechanics team already, with all the time he spends with them.”
“Okay,” Jean says. “Anything else that we don’t know about the lieutenant that you can share with us, Detective?” he asks Harry, who’s looking more and more panicked by the second.
“Yeah, like, what’s his favorite color?” Mack says, still completely oblivious to the tension in the room. “He keeps on wearing that orange jacket of his, so maybe it’s orange? But his notebook’s always blue, so...”
“Thank you for those astute observations, Torson,” Jean says, before redirecting his attention to Harry.
“Uh. Well... Kim likes listening to Speedfreaks FM---”
Chester whistles in admiration. “Wow, really? That stuff’s nasty. I never figured he’d be that kind of guy---”
“He’s not!” Harry objects. “Well. He is. Kind of. Only when he’s driving, though.”
“You still haven’t answered my question, Detective,” Jean reminds him.
Just when Harry looks like he’s about to implode with shame and embarrassment, Trant steps in to salvage the situation.
“Lt. Vicquemare, the Lt. Double-Yefreitor’s just recovered from the severe physical and psychological damage that he received in Martinaise---”
Mostly from his own hands, everyone else in the room thinks.
“--- so it’s understandable if his memory isn’t in good working order yet.” Trant gives Harry a bright smile. “I’m sure we’ll be able to figure out an appropriate gift for Lt. Kitsuragi with our combined efforts.”
Harry gives Trant a look so grateful that he looks like he’s about to cry.
Jean ignores the twinge of remorse that shoots through his heart at this sight.
“Hm. Very well then,” Jean says. “If anyone has a suggestion on what gift we can get for Lt. Kitsuragi, please let Patrol Officer Minot know after this meeting.”
“What if we just get him a mug?” Chester suggests.
Jean feels the beginnings of a migraine build up behind his eyes.
“No, McLaine. We will not give the lieutenant a fucking mug as a welcome gift.”
Chester gapes at him. “But---”
“Meeting adjourned,” Jean says before anyone else comes up with more brilliant ideas. “The party’s in two days, so make sure to have everything ready by then.”
As the group disperses, Jean stays behind to fix his notes. He’s about to leave when he notices that someone else has stayed behind with him.
Harry looks so uncomfortable that he seems ready to bolt out of the meeting room.
Jean gives him a deadpan stare.
“Jean, I---” Harry starts to say, but Jean holds up a hand to stop him.
“Harry. It’s okay. You did your best.” Even as the words leave his mouth, Jean knows that he doesn’t believe a single one of them.
Harry closes his mouth. The look that he gives Jean is filled with so much remorse, hurt, and disappointment that Jean is almost tempted to apologize to him.
Almost.
“Good luck finding that gift,” Jean says, as he walks past Harry. "Looks like you'll need it."
As he closes the door behind him, Jean hears Harry slump back into his chair.
Jean tells himself that he doesn’t care what Harry does, or how Harry feels. He tells himself that Harry deserves all of this after everything that he made Jean go through.
As Lt. Jean Vicquemare walks away from the meeting room, he almost believes the lies that he’s telling himself.