Fandom: Houston Knights
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None.
Category:
Title: An Evening at Chicken's
Author: Lynn

The Disclaimer: The usual suspects are owned by the same folks they've belonged to since the '80's. If life were perfect, they'd belong to me...but life is not perfect. No infringement is intended. This fan fiction is simply and hopefully meant to entertain others, who, like me, don't want Levon, Joe and the rest to disappear. Please don't sue me, my imagination is the most valuable thing I own.

"There's got to be a storm on the gulf," Levon Lundy said with a sigh. He and his partner, Joeseph La Flaimma, had come to 'Chicken's' after a rough day at work to unwind. It was beginning to seem that it was not meant to be.
 

The two men rose as one and strode toward the nearby pool table. Chicken, the very large, very dark and very capable owner of the low-rent establishment, was already there. He nodded in acknowledgment of their presence before returning his attention to the two men who had been playing pool. One was slumped against the table, holding a bar rag against his neck. Near him on the table lay the two pieces of a pool stick, the jagged ends of each tinted crimson with his blood. The second man, who had broken the stick against his opponent's neck, was gasping for air. Chicken had one beefy hand around the man's neck, and was holding him at eye level...which meant that the smaller man was suspended several inches from the ground.
 

"I thought I told you two boys earlier that I don't allow fightin' in my place," Chicken said softly. "Why you want to go and mess up a perfectly fine evening by causin' a ruckus?"
 

In answer, the man he was speaking to slowly turned blue.
 

"Now, I'm only gonna say this once...you and your buddy here, " he jerked his head in the other man's direction, "are gonna leave. Right now. You wanna finish the fight somewhere else, that's your decision. But, you ain't gonna tear up my place. I worked too long and too hard for this joint. It may not be much, but it's mine. Do I make myself clear?"
 

The man, now coloring grey, nodded as well as he could.
 

Chicken released his hold and the man fell to the floor, gasping for breath. Lundy pulled the still-wheezing man, slowly regaining his normal color, to his feet. La Fiamma checked the other, bleeding, combatant. He was quickly satisfied that the wound was superficial. The two off-duty police officers escorted the men to the broad opening that made up 'Chicken's' entrance.
 

"'Spect y'all oughta go sleep it off somewheres," Lundy drawled. He and Joe pushed the two men forward, sending them on their way.
 

"Think we ought to call for uniforms to come pick them up?" La Fiamma asked.
 

Watching the two men stumble off into the parking lot, Lundy shook his head. "Naw, they's just blowin' off steam. It's the first a th' month, an' they prob'ly just got paid. C'mon," he led the way back inside and the two men returned to their table.
 

Picking up his bottle, Joe took a long drink. Setting it back down, he looked across the table at his partner. "It's days like this, when the whole world seems to be going crazy, that make me wonder about something...Lundy have you ever thought about doing something else for a living?"
 

"Whattaya mean?" Levon was enjoying a gentle buzz from the beer he had consumed so far.
 

"If you weren't a cop. What would you be?"
 

Shaking his head, Lundy said, "son, that there's too much thinkin' for me tonight."
 

"Come on. You mean that you've never thought about being something else... wondered what you would have done if you hadn't become a police officer?"

La Fiamma insisted.
 

"Boy, I come outta the shoot wantin' to be a lawman. Nothin' else ever made sense."
 

"And you never wanted to do anything else?" Joe's tone of voice told the other man that he didn't believe him for an instant.
 

"Well..." the blond began, but then he hesitated.
 

"I knew it!" the Italian crowed. He sat staring at the other man for several seconds. When it became clear that Lundy wasn't going to say anything else, he frowned. "So? What? What is it that you wanted to be?"
 

Looking at the other man impassively, Levon lifted his beer. "Ain't tellin' ya."
 

"Oh come on! Dammit Lundy, don't do that! Tell me!" La Fiamma nearly jumped out of his chair in frustration.
 

"Settle down, boy, 'r Chicken's gonna be tossin' us out next." the Texan said softly.
 

Regaining his seat with a huff, La Fiamma sat pouting for several minutes. For his part, Lundy simply finished his beer and ordered another. Finally he decided that the silence had gone on long enough.
 

"What about you? You ever wanna be somethin' else?"
 

"I ain't tellin' ya," Joe said in a mocking imitation of his partner.
 

"Fair 'nuff. But I'll tell ya what I think -"
 

"Do you think?" LaFiamma quipped.
 

"Least once a day," Lundy said evenly, ignoring the jibe. Laughter shone in his dark brown eyes. "I think if'n you wasn't a cop...you'd a been a teacher."
 

"A teacher?! Jeesh, Lundy, you've had too much to drink." La Fiamma slumped back in his seat, his hands held out before him.
 

"No I ain't...leastways not yet. What's th' matter, can't ya see yerself as a teacher?"
 

"No...well...maybe, I...NO! I'd make a lousy teacher," the Italian sputtered.

"Naw, you'd be a good 'n...put all that passion to work on givin' kids a good start in life." Levon's tone had become half serious now.
 

La Fiamma had no come back for that. In fact, his face shone bright red for several long minutes as he digested the - although glibly delivered - compliment his partner had given him. Undeterred, Lundy continued with the train of thought.
 

"What about th' others?"
 

"Who?" La Fiamma frowned.
 

"At work, son. What about them? Whattaya think they'd be doin if'n they wasn't cops?"
 

Joe rolled the thought around in his mind for a while. It was hard to think of the people he had come to know over the past two years, the people he had slowly learned to trust, as being anything other than what they were.
 

"Know what I think?" Lundy asked.
 

"What?"
 

"Well, I'm thinkin' that Joe-Bill...well, he'd be a rodeo clown."
 

LaFiamma nearly spit beer on his companion. Managing to swallow the bitter liquid, he choked out a laugh. "Rodeo clown! Jees..." Pausing then, he nodded. "I think maybe you've got something there."
 

" Course I do. What about Dale?"
 

"Besides professional hard-ass?" Joe asked.
 

"Yeah, besides that," Levon said with a grin.
 

"Hmmm..." A sudden gleam settled in the ex-Chicagoean's deep blue eyes. "A used car salesman!"
 

Laughing, Lundy nodded in agreement. "There ya' go!"
 

"Esteban?" La Fiamma asked.
 

"Esteban...Esteban..." Lundy stared thoughtfully off into space for a few seconds. "Well, not that they seem much diff'ernt sometimes, but I'm thinkin' maybe somethin' in social services... welfare or some such agency."

"Social services? Why?" Joe asked incredulously.
 

"Compassion, La Fiamma. The man practically bleeds compassion. He'd have ta be doin' somethin' that would let him help folks."
 

"Yeah...maybe...but I can't see Esteban in a tie every day," Joe grinned. "What about Annie?"
 

"Shoot, she wouldn't be happy if she wasn't ridin' roughshod over folks," Lundy said with a wide grin at the thought of the unofficial mother hen of the station. "'magine she'd be doin' that wherever she was."
 

"It'd be nice if it was somewhere that didn't involve so much violence,"

La Fiamma said. "I'm thinking maybe the assistant for some CEO."
 

"Fer one, thought ya said someplace less violent. Hell I'd rather face a bullet than one a them corporate types! And two, ain't that a little sexist for you son?" Levon said. "Why wouldn't she be the CEO?"
 

"Not enough of a challenge," Joe insisted. "She needs to be behind the scenes, actually running things. Hell, the big-wigs never know what's going on."
 

Tilting his bottle toward the other man, the blond said, "I see what yer sayin'. Okay, then...what about Carol?"
 

"Legs..." Joe said. Then his eyes locked with Levon's and they said as one -
 

"DANCER!"
 

When the men had finally stopped laughing Joe, wiping tears from his eyes, said, "so...what about Joanne?"
 

Sobering at the thought of his ex-partner and current boss, Lundy's eyes softened and a pained expression skated across his face like a shadow. In a voice suddenly gone serious, he said, "I know what I'd wish for Jo if I could..."
 

"What?" La Fiamma asked quietly, although he was fairly certain that he already knew.
 

"I'd wish she could just be a wife...maybe a mother, even. Be able ta call her life her own, least for awhile..."
 

Nodding, Joe took a drink. The two men were silent for a time, each distracted by thoughts of the dark-haired woman who had sacrificed her marriage and personal life at the alter of police work. Finally deciding that the mood had gotten too dark for the buzz he was trying to maintain, Levon nodded toward the pool table. "Table's empty. Wanna shoot some pool?"
 

"Sounds good," the Italian responded. As they moved toward the game, he said, "so...who haven't we discussed?"
 
 

Three games of pool and five beers later, the men dropped their pool sticks onto the green felt and returned to their table. They were surprised to realize that there were only four or five other people in the bar. The partners had managed to find new careers for everyone they worked with, and even a few that La Fiamma was not well acquainted with. Finally running out of ideas, they had moved on to other topics. Just as they seated themselves, they heard a cry from outside the building. Looking at one another, they jumped up and moved quickly to the entrance. Glancing back, Joe saw Chicken coming around the bar and hurrying toward them. His cook had grabbed up the phone kept close at hand near the grill. Turning his attention back to matters at hand, Joe loosened his guns in their holsters, hidden beneath his jacket. A few steps in front of him, Lundy did the same with his holstered Colt.
 

From the parking lot came the sound of a single shot, followed by another scream. The partners glanced at one another, each seeming to read the other's mind. Slipping out the door and crouching at each side of the entrance, the detectives scanned the dark parking lot for signs of the shooter. Getting La Fiamma's attention, Lundy motioned to him. They would move around on each side of the parking lot, skirting the edges until they found their quarry. With a quick nod, Joe moved away. Crouching as low as possible, the two men made their way around the parking lot, trying to find the source of the disturbance.
 

It seemed to take hours, but in truth was only a few minutes. At the far end of the lot stood a man who looked vaguely familiar. La Fiamma realized that he had seen him in the bar earlier that evening. He hadn't been alone, either. With a sinking feeling came the realization that the screams came from the pretty young woman he had seen in the bar with the man.
 

As if to verify his recollection, the Italian heard a frightened, feminine voice. The woman was speaking from somewhere near the man, on the ground. "Please Duane...please don't. I didn't mean nothin' by it. You know you're the only man I could ever love."
 

"Shut up, bitch!" Came the answer. The man identified as Duane stood there, his body swaying under the influence. The moonlight suddenly reflected off something in his hand...a revolver. Raising it in the air, the drunken man fired of another shot. Even though the bullet flew harmlessly skyward, the woman cried out in fear once again.
 

"Shit," Lundy mumbled on the other side of the parking lot. He too was watching the exchange, looking for an opening that would allow them to disarm the man, hopefully without anyone getting hurt. Peering across the dimly lit parking lot, he wished he could see what his partner was doing.
 

"Duane, please baby!" The woman was crying, her tone pleading. "Baby, don't be mad at me. I won't ever do it again. I promise!"
 

"Shut up!" Duane repeated. "Damn it, yer always pissin' an' moanin'...'don't do this, don't do that'. How the hell's a man s'posed ta think with all that noise?"
 

"I'm sorry baby...I'm sorry."
 

La Fiamma tasted bile at the couples words. It took everything he had not to leap out of the shadows and beat the man to a pulp. On the other side of the lot Lundy tasted blood as he literally bit his tongue to keep from yelling in anger.
 

The man reached down and pulled the woman from the ground. Joe could see her face in the moonlight. Several bruises were beginning to color her pretty face, and her lip and nose were both bleeding. Hands balled into tight fists, La Fiamma tensed himself to move -
 

"Hey...hey...buddy..." came a voice from across the parking lot. "Hey...you sh-seen m' car?" A figure stepped unsteadily from the shadows. Duane's attention was drawn to that voice. He pointed his gun toward the lean figure that staggered toward him.
 

"Shoot...I cain't...I cain't fin' th' damn thing nowheres. You seen is buddy?" Lundy, his hat askew and shirt tail hanging loose, moved with a feigned drunken gait toward the armed man.
 

Deciding that the man approaching him caused no threat, Duane lowered his weapon, his attention still turned from the woman he had been threatening. Joe saw his opening and took it. Moving with cat-like grace, he bounded from the shadows and grabbed the woman. Pulling her to the ground with him, he rolled them both back into the darkness, as the woman reacted with a startled cry. His attention grabbed by the sound, Duane turned back to where the woman had been. Levon, taking the opportunity presented him, leapt across the last remaining feet between himself and the drunken shooter. Before the man could react, he was disarmed and thrown to the ground, his face pushed roughly into the dirt.
 

Pulling the woman back to her feet gently, La Fiamma's heard a distant sound that was growing steadily louder. Turning to his partner he said, "here come the uniforms."
 

From where he sat straddling the drunk, Levon said, "bout damn time."
 
 

Several minutes later Duane was being whisked away in the back of a squad car. His companion and victim, who introduced herself only as Cathy, was being transported to the hospital. The two detectives watched as the emergency vehicles drove away. Turning to find the bar owner standing behind them, a smile on his broad face, they moved to join him.
 

"Much obliged, gentlemen," Chicken said.
 

"Not a problem," Lundy replied.
 

"All part of the job," La Fiamma answered.
 

"Yeah, well, I don't know about that La Fiamma. But I do know that you boys just worked off your tab for the month."
 

The two detectives grinned at one another. "'preciate it, Chicken, " Levon said. Seeing that the lights were out in the bar, he continued, "callin' it a night?"
 

"Since night's over and the sirens chased off what customers I had left, I thought I might, " Chicken said. "Night boys."
 

"Night Chicken," the detectives said in unison.
 

As they moved toward their cars, La Fiamma turned toward the Texan. "You know Lundy, you never did answer me."
 

"Bout what, La Fiamma?" The blond said absently as he brushed the dirt and gravel from the hat he had lost during the brief struggle.
 

"About what you'd be if you weren't a cop," Joe said impatiently.
 

"Oh yeah, guess I didn't," Levon said thoughtfully. He hesitated, then favored his partner with a bright smile. Replacing his hat, he started off toward his Jimmy.
 

"Hey! Lundy, where you goin?"
 

"Home La Fiamma," Levon said, intentionally mispronouncing his partner's name. "'night."
 

"Lundy! Man, come back here and give me an answer!" Joe yelled.
 

His only answer was the sound of the red Jimmy starting up.
 

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