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Chapter Text

Emmett Dixon was HAPPY...FINALLY HAPPY...his paintings and sketches have been shown in and purchased from a WELL-
respected gallery near Paris, France and he met an expatriate American about a month ago who's not only unattached but
also seemed interested in something beyond a fling and open to a possible long-term commitment.

Then Travis Montogermy rang the doorbell of his flat...Emmett steeled his features and said, "You came a long way for
nothing."

"You can't even say my name?"

"As I recall you ordered me never to use your name again. Say what you want and leave," the artist said as coldly as he could
manage.

"OK...I remember and I regret ever saying that. Can I come in? I flew 12 hours to get something very important off of
my chest."

"I have a guest coming. Would you move so that I can close my door, please?"

"Just wait, Emmett, please!" Travis pleaded. "Two more seconds, please!"

Emmett relented, against his better judgment. "Two seconds."

"I'm here until the day after um, Christmas. If you feel like it"-

"That was more than two seconds. Take care."

=====================================

"Do you agree to therapy or not? Maya, that is the question: yes or no?"

"It's not as simple as you make it sound, Car! I made a really stupid decision concerning Ross, and on top of that, I gifted
gifted Captain Dick that bottle of scotch AND threw a bucket at him when he refused to stop badgering me: I have to consider-
WE have to consider - the reality that the old guard in SFD marks me and if they get wind of me needing help with my mental
state"-

"Excuses" Carina shot back.

Marina huffed, then said "Here's a question for YOU Mia moglie : if you walked into Bailey's office and said to her that
you're struggling mentally what would she do? And she's nothing like those dried-up racist and misogynist husks in SFD who would
love to have me on record as another hysterical female too weak mentally to survive in a 'man's world' as Lane Bishop might phrase it...
I love my job! The moment -THE VERY MOMENT that downtown knows that I went to see Diane I may as well sit for the real estate
boards first!"

"Maya; I suspected that you might attempt that RUSE, Mia moglie ...except I spoke with Andy a few days past and
it seems that her cousin Michelle here in Seattle is a therapist; her cousin Annalise's partner in Miami could put us in contact
with a well-known counselor there. For either one, Jackson Avery told me that the Avery Foundation would offset 70% of the
cost - both therapists agree to the municipal billing rate, lowering the 30% we'd normally pay to half of that. I can text the
contact information to you"-

Bishop tried to wheedle: "Can't we decide after the holidays? Parties, good friends, family"-

"You know, why don't you go home, Maya? I'm suddenly very tired."

"But...I thought...OK," the blonde said dejectedly, gathering her coat and wool hat.

"Go home, Love...Basta andare a casa , alright? Good night."

"Good night...I love you."

"Yes...I know that you believe that."

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Chapter Text

*CHARACTERS*

Sean Beckett
Jack Gibson
Andrea Herrera
Robert Sullivan

He won't understand-or possibly doesn't want to or just refuses to...and Andy's just about had it with him...
worse, so is ROBERT. It isn't her fault that Sean Beckett continues to buzz around her like a sancudo : a mosquito and at
certain times she sees reproach in his eyes. That isn't enough, though; Jack Gibson saw an opportunity (or imagined one when she
filed for divorce to 'slide back' into her bedsheets and her filing of a motion to stay the proceedings hasn't done a thing to dampen his
nor many other's resolve. "Hey, Beckett!" She ducks her head into the space between his open door and doorjamb. "I a word, please!"

"Oooo...I like an authoritative chick!" he grins lasciviously. Where to, 'Ma'am'?"

"OUTSIDE-NOW!"

She marches outside ahead of him and rounds on the creep as soon as he follows her out. "This is your last warning, Beckett,
she seethed. "YOUR LAST - I don't wanna hear one more invitation for 'drinks' or to 'hang out'; I'm not attracted to you and I'll
never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever E.V.E.R fuck you under any circumstance; you need to understand that concept and
justify it to yourself however you need to but if you keep harassing and stalking me you will be sorry."

Stepping closer the red-faced prick snarled "You know what? You're hot but you're also a conceited mouthy bitch"-

"PLEASE; touch me-grab me...take a swing and your new boss ROBERT: who CAN GET IT ANYTIME HE WANTS-can cut you
an ass the length and width of the Lincoln Tunnel you pudgy, bloated liquor-y prick. OHHH, right...I forgot: you're CULO of him-
you're SCARED!" And laughed so hard she also peed herself. Her nemesis could only clench his fists, get redder in the face, and 'spit
nails'. "Is that it?" he snarled before turning and stomping off.

"Oh, yeah!" she called. "Get off of Bishop's back and stay off of it...or 🎵Ro-bert!🎵!!"

"Goddamn stuck up spic BITCH!" The pudgy, bloated liquor-y prick muttered angrily under his breath, as he IS afraid of
Sullivan...

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Later she's approached (yet again!) by fellow Lieutenant Jack Gibson as she readies the Captain's office for occupancy
(not long after her 'chat' with Beckett Robert calls to inform her that Chief Ripley has approved her appointment to the position
she's always wanted as the incumbent will be gone by the end of the week), so when Jack walks in she can't help the exasperated
sigh that escapes her. "Jack"-

"Why though?" he whines. "You're divorcing the guy - you have your own place and you started dating again so...WHY?"

Rolling her eyes, Andy replied "That was...all FAKE, OK? Sullivan and I decided to put up a front for everyone else. To be
honest I don't want to get into this with you, so..."

Gibson scoffed. "You 'staged' a make-believe divorce WHY, exactly?"

"That was only to get Robert's attention, okay? It was always heading this way: I've tried to tell you that one hundred
times and either you won't understand, don't want to understand, or just flat REFUSE to...I've had and so has Robert;
you're acting like Beckett: *como un maldito sancudo : a fucking mosquito and I'm getting blamed for it. Not that it's
you're business but I spend almost the whole week at his-I mean OURS-the opportunity you think you saw to slide back into
my bedsheets isn't happening...won't happen and has no chance in one million of happening. Yes, I filed for divorce but I also
also submitted a motion to stay the petition and I intend to let it lapse. Now; Robert said something about transferring you if
you can't control yourself and tbh I hope that you CAN-you're a good friend and 19 would be worse without you here but it's
up to you...'k? Please?"

"Yeah, OK. I don't know if I can 'control myself' but I'll try. I'll-I'll see Diane and if therapy doesn't help I'll consider the
transfer. I, um...I JUST LOVE YOU, ANDS"-

"C'mon, Jack"-

Sighing heavily and grimacing sorrowfully, Gibson said "Cool. OK...I get it...ummm - Ripley took me off the schedule for the next
shift so...I'll see you in ten days I guess. Anyway - see ya."

"That'd be good-Robert's coming by to help me move some things to our house...hey Jack? Make a life for yourself, please. You
deserve to be happy."

Robert came in five minutes later and before she could approach to greet him he asked "What was Gibson doing here and
for HOW LONG??"

"N-Not long" Andy squeaked.

"How long was Gibson HERE?!" Sullivan growled.

"5 minutes...10 at the most," Andrea admitted. "He passed by to shoot his shoot, like the rest of them since the divorce filing.
"I can't help that, Robert! These DOGS sniffing after me have this delusion that I'm the same 'Anytime, Anywhere Andy' that I
was - WAS , Robert: I'm not like that anymore and I think that I've proven that."

///Continue?///