Chapter Text
14th Precinct — Late Afternoon, 1982
Mary Beth Lacey still wasn’t used to the feel of the detective’s shield clipped to her belt instead of pinned on her chest. It was heavier somehow, though maybe that was just the pride weighing her down. Three years riding in the same squad car with Christine Cagney, and now here they were—partners again, promoted together, walking the halls of the 14th as detectives third grade.
Christine walked half a step ahead, as usual, heels clicking quick and confident on the scuffed linoleum, blond hair swinging just so. She didn’t even seem to notice the stares she drew, from uniforms and detectives alike. Mary Beth noticed, though. Lord help her, she noticed everything.
The way Christine leaned in close when she made a wisecrack, palm resting casually on Mary Beth’s arm as if it had a permanent right to be there. The way she called her “kid” sometimes, even though Mary Beth was only a year younger. The way she laughed, head tossed back, throat bare.
Most days, Mary Beth told herself it was just Christine being Christine—flirtatious, dramatic, larger than life. But then there were the other days. Days when she sat on the E train rattling back to Queens with the smell of Christine’s perfume still in her hair, and some thought—some flash—would slip past her defenses. Christine’s hand sliding down her arm and lower, Christine’s mouth brushing against her ear as she whispered something reckless.
By the time she reached Jackson Heights, Mary Beth would be gripping the strap of her handbag so tight her knuckles ached, praying no one on the subway platform could see how hot her face had gone. She was a married woman, a Catholic girl from Queens with two little boys at home. She had no business imagining the things she imagined. And yet—sometimes the fantasy was so sharp, so consuming, she was half-convinced the whole city could see it glowing off her skin. Like a flare shot up into the night sky: Lacey wants her partner.