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    Fandom: Houston Knights
    Rating: PG
    Spoilers: None.
    Category:
    Title: Line of Duty
    Author: Lynn



    The Disclaimer: Everyone sing along - the characters of Levon Lundy, Joe La Fiamma and Joanne Beaumont as well as the rest of the 'Houston Knights' cast are the property of Berstein, Butler and Columbia. No copyright infringement is intended. Humor and enjoyment are intended and fervently hoped for.

    Line of Duty
    by Lynn
     

    Detective Sargent Levon Lundy pulled his red Jimmy to a stop across the street from their suspect's house. Armed with an arrest warrant for one Arnold Melbourne he and his partner, Sargent Joseph La Fiamma, prepared to cross the rain-soaked street. La Fiamma pulled the collar of his coat up tighter in a vain attempt to keep some of the down-pour from running down his back. Lundy clamped his plastic covered brown cowboy hat down tighter on his blond head. Suddenly he cut loose with a sneeze that threatened to knock the hat back off.
     

    "Guisenteit," La Fiamma said.
     

    "Thanks," Lundy replied, his voice sounding muffled with a cold. "Look, you cover the back, I'll take the front."
     

    "Lundy -"
     

    "Hey, you can go first...right around to th' back door." He looked evenly at the other man. "La Fiamma, I feel like hell and I don't feel like trompin' through this stuff any more'n I have to."
     

    Acknowledging the red-rimmed eyes and general haggard appearance of his partner, La Fiamma relented. With a nod he left the vehicle and sprinted around the side of the little frame house. Levon followed, moving up the front walk. Knocking at the door, he listened for signs of life inside.
     

    A second knock brought a response, scuffing footsteps and a muffled, "Yeah, yeah. I'm comin'." The door was opened by a small, rumpled, skinny man rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Yeah," he said as way of greeting.
     

    "Are you Arnold Melbourne?" Lundy asked conversationally.
     

    "Yeah," the man replied. Levon was beginning to wonder if the man had vocabulary capabilities beyond the level of a three-year old.
     

    "Mr. Melbourne, I have here a warrant - " that was as far as he got. Caught off-guard, the Texan wasn't prepared when the other man shoved him in the chest with the force of a bull. The detective flew backwards a few feet, landing hard on his backside. He looked up to see that the man had disappeared back inside.
     

    "La Fiamma, he's a-runnin!" Lundy yelled through clenched teeth.
     

    Behind the house, the Italian stood at the alert. He held both side arms at the ready, waiting for the suspect to come through the back door...
     

    Melbourne came through the window.
     

    La Fiamma registered the sounds of breaking glass, cracking wood and tearing cloth just before the remnants of the window above and behind him came raining down. Their quarry flew out, his foot catching the detective's shoulder and sending him sprawling to the ground along with the window debris. Joe found himself tangled up in the mess.

    Melbourne ran free.
     

    Levon chose that moment to come limping around the house. He was making a concerted effort not to massage the part of his anatomy that had made contact with the cement walk. "La Fiamma?" he called.
     

    "Yeah," came the disgruntled reply from beneath the ruined drapes.
     

    "You okay?" Lundy asked.
     

    "Just go get the guy, okay?" La Fiamma sounded more exasperated by the second.
     

    The Texan stifled a laugh and limped after their man. He managed to stretch the bruised muscles enough to move a bit quicker, but even his top speed was little more than an awkward trot. The blond watched as Arnold ran in and out of foot traffic, easily keeping his distance. Still, Levon followed, bent on getting their man.
     

    Back at Melbourne's house, La Fiamma had finally managed to untangle himself from the drapes and wooden fragments of the window. Pulling himself up, he started after the other men. The ex-Chicagoan didn't realize that one shoe had been knocked off until he stepped on a large and particularly jagged piece of glass.
     

    "OW! Shit!" the detective cursed loudly as he hopped free of the debris and sat down on the wet ground. Gingerly he pulled the glass shard from his foot. Grabbing his handkerchief from his pocket, La Fiamma quickly wrapped it around his foot. Easing back up, he hobbled over and retrieved the errant shoe. Limping painfully, the brunette returned to the Jimmy. He grimaced as he felt blood collecting inside his imported shoe.
     

    Several blocks away, Lundy was still tracking their suspect. From the increased number of times the man looked over his shoulder, the Texan knew that he was starting to get nervous. A knot of people, waiting out the rain under an awning, blocked the detective's path and he quickly dodged around them. Just as he reached curbside, a pick-up truck passed, splashing through a huge puddle. The murky water shot over the already soaked man in an elegant wave, drenching him even more.
     

    Sputtering, the blond picked up his decidedly worse for wear hat, knocked off by the water. He struggled on, wiping the crude out of his eyes with the back of one smudged hand. Ahead, Melbourne turned into an alley. Lundy picked up as much sped as possible. He was tired and determined to end the chase. Just as the Texan reached the alley entrance a siren blast caught his attention. Turning, he saw La Fiamma speeding up the street in his Jimmy. Lundy waved the Italian on, motioning for him to circle around the block. Hitting the lights, his partner signaled his agreement. Levon barreled into the alley...
     

    And directly into a group of trash cans. Cans that had just recently been set out for collection. Very full trash cans.
     

    Arnold Melbourne looked down from his perch, on the lowest platform of a fire escape, to see the police officer lying face down in a pile of refuge. Laughing, the man lowered himself to the ground and, seeing no one else around, sprinted away from the fallen man. Just as Albert reached the far end of the alley, a red Jimmy pulled across the opening. Skidding to a halt, the man started to re-trace his steps. He changed his mind when he saw a handgun pointing in his direction.
     

    "Police. You're under arrest," La Fiamma said with no small amount of relief.
     

    As Joe was reading the man his rights, Lundy shuffled up to them. Still pulling eggshell and other things that he would rather not identify from his clothing, and carrying a very battered cowboy hat, the Texan was uttering more curse words than even he realized he knew.
     

    "You okay?" La Fiamma asked, trying very hard not to laugh out loud.
     

    "Oh, just fine," Lundy replied with no small amount of sarcasm. Taking in the way Joe was favoring one foot and leaning against his vehicle, he asked, "you?"
     

    "I'm just great," the Italian replied. "You ready to take this jack rabbit in?"
     

    Lundy looked down at his soaked, grit and garbage encrusted clothing. He looked at his partner's equally disheveled appearance. He looked at his Jimmy, thinking of what they were about to inflict upon it. He sighed. The sigh tuned into a series of sneezes. "Oh, hell...why not?" He said with resignation when he could finally speak.
     

    La Fiamma pushed the handcuffed man into the backseat and climbed into the truck beside him. Lundy scuffed around the front of his vehicle and crawled behind the wheel. As soon as he closed the door he realized that not only did he look awful, he did not smell like a spring morning either. Nearly gagging, he quickly rolled down the window. The wind chose that moment to whip the rain into the open window.
     

    "Yeah...that's just what I's missin'," he mumbled as he started the Jimmy up and pulled away from the curb.
     

    It was the end of their shift. They had made quite a sight, stomping into the station with Arnold Melbourne in tow. They had booked him and left before they could be thrown out by the other officers. A large part of the remainder of their shift had been spent getting La Fiamma stitched up and both men showered and changed. Despite Joe's arguments, Levon declined having his own injury tended to, insisting that he was only bruised.
     

    Now they were at their desks, filling out reports. La Fiamma had his bandaged foot propped up on a chair, a pair of crutches close at hand. Lundy sat gingerly on a thick cushion. There was a half-used box of tissues on the desk at his elbow. Neither man spoke, concentrating only on the reports at hand.
     

    Just as another series of sneezes overtook the Texan, Lieutenant Joanne Beaumont entered the room. She looked decidedly unhappy; her brow was creased in a frown and he pretty face flushed. Taking a deep breath, she seemed to be steeling herself for a confrontation. She squared her shoulders, strode purposefully across the room and stopped at the occupied tandem desks. Beaumont looked at first one man and then the other, gauging their moods. "I've got some news that you're just going to love," she said in her soft, throaty voice.
     

    The two men looked at one another, their faces unreadable. "Let's have it, Lieutenant," La Fiamma said with a tone of resignation in his voice.
     

    "They're gonna cut Melbourne a deal. They'll let him walk in exchange for names and information that they deem more important," Joanne finished, anger ringing in her voice.
     

    La Fiamma sighed and looked across at his partner. Lundy's face mirrored his own feelings of frustration and impotence. Without a word the two men eased stiffly from their chairs. Handing Joanne their reports, Joe grabbed the crutches and Levon picked up his cushion and ever-dwindling tissue supply. Together they moved slowly toward the door.
     

    Exasperated, Joanne Beaumont called after them, "aren't you two even going to get mad?!"
     

    With a shrug, Lundy turned back to her, "hell, Joanne, it's all part a th' job...all in th' line a duty." He turned toward his partner. "Chicken's?"
     

    "Yeah," Joe La Fiamma agreed. "I'll even buy the first round."
     

    End

     

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