Work Text:
Time to Go
By ttrummer/tonyajot
tonyajot@yahoo.com
"So, then," Jim popped the top off of another can of beer, taking a small sip, "Simon yelled, `But how in the hell did he lose his pants?!' Pretty good, huh, Chief?"
The snarfled laughter made the age-lined detective's face soften a bit.
"I know! I know! Yeah, underwear, too!" He took a much deeper chug from the can, the condensation dancing little rainbows across his knuckles. "And then, Connor walks in..." He chuckled along with his partner. "Yeah, you guessed it. She walked right up to him and commented, as only her abrasive Aussie-self could about his `shortcomings' as a detective!" Jim chortled and patted his friend on top of his head.
The curly brown mop shook back and forth with glee.
"Then she walks up to Simon and says as loud as she can, and you KNOW how loud that is...that didn't she already tell the Captain that red was NOT Rafe's color?"
After another round of shared laughter, Jim's no-longer sentinel sight caught the decided downturn of the sunset.
"Well, Chief, I guess it's time to go." The furry muzzle nuzzled his hand as he stroked the granite marker.
"We'll be back the day after tomorrow, Sandburg. And YES, I promise Chief won't `disrespect' anybody's resting place coming or going." His ice-blue eyes misted over. "I miss you, chief." All present knew that he wasn't referring to the dog at his side. Standing gracefully, man and dog weaved their way back up the hillside and scrambled into the truck. "Good, visit, huh?" A drooling tongue hung out of the mutt's mouth as he shook his head affirmatively. "Yeah, good visit."
Fin
tonyajot@yahoo.com