fandomtownies | Trooper Station: Thursday

Entry tags:

Trooper Station: Thursday

Yes, there were probably other bigger events happening on the island right now but right now Dale was dealing with a more immediate problem.

Bananas.

They were everywhere in his office. So much so he barely had space on his desk for coffee and pie.

And apparently Dale wasn't the only one having this issue.

"Yes, Ma'am. The bananas. I understand, Ma'am, but you're not the only one with bananas randomly showing up either. I believe it's one of those things. What's that? Aliens? What kind of aliens. Uh-huh. Shape shifting aliens. I'm sure. Perhaps they're the one responsible for the bananas. I'll look into it ma'am."

Dale hung up the phone and went for another refill on coffee. It was going to be one of those days.

[What? It's a theme! Open!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Hey, Coop," Daisy went to poke her head into his office and not only was any attention to keeping the bandage on her arm from being notice forgotten, but so was, momentarily, the whole reason she popped in at all.

"Catching up on some potassium, sir?"

"Not today," Dale replied. "There seem to be bunches of bananas randomly popping up on the island. However now that you mention it some banana cream pie is sounding awfully good."

Daisy couldn't help a small laugh. "When life hands you bananas, I guess...Have you got a moment?"

"Absolutely," Dale said waving Daisy to take a seat. "What can I help you with?"

"Oh, no," Daisy waved off the offered seat. "Nothing big. Just was hoping if it'd be alright if I took Wednesday mornings off. I decided to take up on your suggestion about teaching, and that's where they've put me."

"Completely fine," Dale said with a nod. "Did the same myself a couple summers ago. What will you be teaching?"

"Nothing much," said Daisy. "Just a little course on healthy cooking, that sort of thing."

Not that she was giving a look toward the desk and the fact that, even with all those bananas, there still seemed room for pie.

"Excellent topic," Dale said as he sipped at his umpteenth cup of coffee for the day. "You can't live a health life without good nutrition. That's what I always say."

Says the man who also eats tons of pie and doughnuts.

If not even married life could manage to make Cooper fat, Daisy would be willing to finally ascent that, no, life is definitely not fair at all.

"Of course, sir."

The police station. Alex was a big fan of cops, except when they violated due process and lost her cases. But she wasn't exactly a prosecutor right now, so that was moot.

In the meantime, she needed to find out just how safe this island was, or if the FBI was setting her up. Hammond had been pretty pissed at her when his underling got killed, but this seemed a bit far to go for revenge.

She was paranoid, sure, but she had a bullet hole in her shoulder that was supposed to have hit her lungs.

"Excuse me?" she asked, walking up to the man at the desk. "I would like to talk to someone."

Dale looked up from his paper work and blinked. "ADA Alex Cabot of New York? How can I help you?"

Alex froze, glancing over her shoulder and then back at Dale again. "Did someone tell you I was coming?" she asked, lowering her voice.

"No," Dale said slowly. "You were here for the law enforcement convention that I helped organize. You were a guest speaker. Unless you are a different ADA Alex Cabot?"

Which in Fandom is a valid question.

"No," she said carefully. "No, I'm not."

There had been so many people that weekend, but a few moments of thought produced his name.

"Cooper," she said. "Sheriff Cooper?"

"That's correct," Dale said giving her a grin and nodded for to take a seat. "Can I get you some coffee? And then maybe you can tell me what brings you to our little island."

Alex sat down carefully, looking around. "So you ... haven't been contacted by the FBI?" she asked, placing her purse onto her lap. "I don't think I know the protocol, here."

"I think you'll find that most government agencies tend to stay off the island," Dale said pouring some coffee. "However judging by the sling, your concern of who I've talked to... I'm guessing you're not here on vacation."

Alex stood up again, moving to shut the door to his office. If he was a dirty cop, then she'd know it soon enough, and would probably find out the hard way. But he seemed honest.

How many people had made that mistake? Better not to tell anyone. Except she needed information, and if she couldn't trust the sheriff, she had no idea where to start.

She sat down again, eyes seeking out his. "I was prosecuting a rape-homicide," she said. "The man beat his girlfriend to death. He was part of a Colombian drug cartel. The kind that doesn't submit politely to the orders of the judiciary."

Edited 2009-05-08 04:00 (UTC)

And now Dale's smile had faded and he was all business.

"Witness protection program?" he asked. "Who's giving you cover? US Marshals?"

"I had US Marshals on protective detail," she said, feeling reassured by his demeanor. "So did my mother, since there was a credible threat on her. I was shot in the presence of two armed NYPD detectives -- drive-by. It happened fast. So the FBI leaned on the hospital to have me declared dead, and they rushed me out of town."

Dale brushed aside a few bananas from his desk so he could sit on the edge of it.

"Do you have any protection on the island?" Dale asked. "And do you want me to contact the FBI to arrange some communication regarding your security?"

"I have a service revolver, given to me by the squad captain I was working with," Alex said. Cragen probably thought she was dead. It seemed a lousy way to repay him. "I have a concealed carry permit, but that's only for New York. I don't ... understand what's going on. They said Witness Protection. They were talking about putting me in Wisconsin. Then I ended up here. When I opened the file, it said my new name was ... Alex Cabot, and I'd be practicing law. Which happens to be my old name, and my old profession. Witness Protection isn't that sloppy."

A small grin crossed Dale's face.

"I wouldn't worry about your license. What you have from New York will cover you here. In fact we have a great shooting range in town over at Wellspring Arms. I recommend you go there to practice. Our Mayor owns the shop," he began. "As for you coming here... Well let's say our little island is unique."

"Unique?" Alex was in no mood. "Unique. Wonderful. So a blonde woman showing up with my name and my profession isn't going to set off any alarms for the Colombian drug cartels, because this island is special. That's what you're telling me?"

Had someone set her up?

Dale held up his hand apologetically. "Not quite what I mean, and I apologize for being vague. The explanation for this place is a little hard to explain," he said sympathetically. "Do you remember some of the unusual people at the convention?"

Alex was going to count minutes until she could take more pain medication. Maybe she would take a lot of it. Perhaps if she was stoned, someone would start making sense.

"I remember men in spandex," she said. "And fursuits. Convincing ones. I thought it was supposed to be a law enforcement convention, not a weekend outing at Bellevue."

"There was a legitimate reason for that Ms. Cabot," Dale replied seriously. "The reason why they were different is that this island has some... mystical properties to it. I know! Hard to believe, but it is true."

"Mystical properties," she repeated dryly. She'd chosen one person to confide in, and that person was insane. "Magic fairies will keep me safe from Colombian drug lords?"

"Not quite," Dale chuckled. "But if you spend enough time here you'll realize what I'm saying."

Alex was going to start drinking early tonight.

"Please tell me there isn't actually a drug presence in this town?" she asked. Even a crazy person off his medication should know that.

"None at all really," Dale replied. "Though every town has its dangers with the nature of this island, I can probably guarantee your safety of being discovered. However if it would make you feel better we can set you up with panic button that would alert the station and any troopers we have in the area to your location and aid you."

Right. Crazy person, but a panic button would have its uses.

"I would appreciate that," she said calmly. "Thank you."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Trooper Station: Thursday

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

NFB from here please?

Re: NFB from here please?

Re: NFB from here please?

Re: NFB from here please?

Re: NFB from here please?

Re: NFB from here please?

Re: NFB from here please?

Re: NFB from here please?

Re: NFB from here please?

Re: NFB from here please?

Re: NFB from here please?

Re: NFB from here please?

Re: NFB from here please?

Re: NFB from here please?

Re: NFB from here please?