batmanschmatman | 019 [spam for costigan]

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019 [spam for costigan]

For not being necessarily directly involved in what had happened outside of being friends with the victim and having information that - in his mind, anyway - might have been able to stop this from happening if he hadn't been stupid, Dick was not dealing with the current situation on the Barge as well as he could be. While it was true that he wasn't totally out of control or anything, just pretending like everything was fine was getting hard, especially when Costigan was apparently still willing to chat with the guy who'd brutally murdered someone Dick was friends with.

He didn't get what the inmate wanted or what hoping to achieve, and when Costigan had suggested they talk about it not on the network, he had two options. Run off to the CES or the gym or something to try and distract himself from his continued frustration so he wouldn't end up snapping at the inmate, or to just directly go to the inmate's room and hope he could keep himself in control.

Maybe foolishly, he'd decided it was a higher priority to get this conversation over with, so he headed down to the former undercover's room and knocked on the door, pacing slightly as he waited for him to answer it, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, clearly visibly frustrated and maybe a little anxious. It had been easier when he'd been sparring with Steph, because at least he'd had something to do with his pent up energy.

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Costigan had been waiting for Dick since he told his warden to come find him, fairly confident that that was exactly what the man would do. He had tucked his journal away and wondered if John had replied, but that could wait until after the talk. The inmate was too busy sitting stone still, his own sign of distress and anxiety, to bother with it right now. When he heard the knock at the door, he slowly rose and moved over toward the door.

His right hand moved to the blade at his back as he opened the door just a crack with his left hand. When he saw it was his warden, he relaxed a hint and opened the door enough to let the other man in. Costigan wasn't stupid; he caught that Dick was angry already, but he didn't want their dirty laundry aired in front of anyone else.

He didn't bother saying anything, waiting for his warden to do the talking.

Dick stepped into the room and out of habit, looked around. He'd been in here before since the inmate had apparently asked for a change in residence, but only briefly, so he still wasn't entirely familiar with the space, and the moment or two of focusing on that instead of on what he was here to talk about bought him some time to recompose himself and not immediately jumping into the screaming, "what the hell are you thinking" territory.

"You said I wasn't understanding." He turned around to look at his inmate, still tense, but voice level when he started and expression a little less frustrated than it had been before entering the room. "What's there to really understand? He killed Howie, Costigan. He tortured and killed him, and doesn't seem to have a problem with it, because he thinks he's doing what God wants him to. What could he possibly have to tell you that could be anywhere close to positive or helpful? I might be a pretty lapsed Catholic, but I think I missed the part in the Bible where it says torturing and killing people is totally permissible as long as you cry act of divine will or whatever."

Although by the end of his little speech, the frustration and anger was definitely creeping back into his voice, it wasn't directed towards Costigan. He really didn't understand what he was hoping to get out of this potential continued communication with John, but he wasn't angry with him. He was angry with the killer and at himself for not being able to do something to help even though he should have. He'd had the facts, he should have been able to pick up on the warning signs. But he hadn't, and his friend was paying for it.

Edited 2011-02-10 08:02 (UTC)

Costigan waved off most of Dick's concern with a dismissive gesture as he moved back into the main part of his considerably smaller room that was void of pretty much any decoration. The inmate took a seat in the chair at his desk, gesturing his warden to the small two-seater couch across from it. Then he took a pack of old smokes and a lighter from his pocket, beginning to fix himself a cigarette.

"Calm down, guy. I get that John's fuckin' evil, but it's not going to do me any good to get on his bad side right now. Guy wants to reform me? Let him. I don't think he'll want to kill me. If he does? Then at least I'll know about it in advance." It was all pretty damn logical to the undercover who was used to working with Frank Costello. Even if he'd hated it, at least he'd had a better idea of when he may or may not get killed working closely with Frank than when he was a simple goon.

Breathing life into the cigarette, he set the pack and lighter on his desk and turned back to Dick. His warden's anger actually irritated him a little bit. He had figured the guy would give him a little more credit.

Dick ran a hand through his hair, letting it linger there for a moment before pacing a little again, walking in short lines back and forth. He didn't sit down - couldn't sit down. He still wanted to hit something or go for a run or go out on patrol and do some actual good, break up a gang or stop a robbery or generally just go out and stir up some trouble for some criminals, but that definitely wasn't an option here.

He was thinking over what Costigan had said, but already that was getting jumbled with his own thoughts on the subject and knowing what he'd done to Howie and how he should have been able to stop it from happening, so it took him a minute before he actually figured out what to say. He stopped pacing to address him, his voice once again level and sort of confused rather than angry.

"I don't get it. What do you want to get out of this? Talking to him, I mean. Believe me, I get where staying on his good side's something most people would want, but why not just ignore him?"

He watched his warden pace and the hand through the hair and all the signs of anxiety he was all too familiar with. It was a little disconcerting to see them from the man he was supposed to be listening to and that made him shift uncomfortably. The former undercover was used to working for level people that could deal with any amount of anxiety pretty evenly. People who had answers or made them up. Though he wouldn't say it, it was something John had that he respected.

"Because maybe he can help me." Costigan replied with a shrug before taking a long drag on his smoke. "Just because he's a fuckin' murderer doesn't mean everything he says is complete bullshit. Half the people on this boat have murdered somebody. You read my file. I haven't murdered anyone directly, but I've been there for it. I've seen it happen and I never lifted a hand to stop it. What does that make me?"

"There's a difference between standing by and watching it happen and actively selecting someone to torture and kill because you think you're doing God's work." And really, although he caught himself before just blurting it out, because he was supposed to believe that everyone here had a shot at redemption and had the capacity to be a better person, in his mind, the difference was pretty clear. Costigan wasn't a monster, and John Doe wasn't any different from any other psycho in Arkham.

He finally sat down, shifting so his elbows rested on his knees, hands clasped between them. Now that he wasn't moving around, he looked a little calmer, a little more focused on the conversation at hand and less bothered by his own feelings of inadequacy and apparent failure.

"Okay, explain to me again, what exactly are you hoping he'll be able to help you with? And it seriously doesn't bother you at all that he kidnapped, tortured and killed a guy who - to the best of my knowledge - you get along pretty okay with most of the time?"

Costigan stood as Dick sat, agitated by what the warden was saying. He wasn't the type to pace so much, but he moved a little nearer to Dick in a way that very much suggested willing aggression if it came down to it. He took another long drag on his cigarette and let the smoke flow slowly from one side of his mouth before replying.

"The fuck, Dick?" He asked, then paused to take a breath and began again. "Of course it fuckin' bothers me. Who the fuck do you think I am? But I'm not you. I was never some vigilante who could do whatever the fuck I wanted. So you'll forgive me if I'm a little more used to dealing with murderers and shit than you are, without sending them to jail. Look, you can react however you want, kid, but short of you ordering me to stay away from him, I'm going to do what I think is best for those involved and that's to talk to him."

Dick's posture didn't change as the inmate stood up, not really caring if Costigan wanted to lash out at him. Part of him almost wanted the inmate to attack him. That would be so much more normal and what he was used to then just sitting around waiting for something to happen, letting other people take care of everything.

On top of that, he'd been concerned that the vigilante thing was going to be an issue and apparently, it was. Part of him was concerned that it would go as far as to be an actual serious issue between the two of them, that maybe Costigan would want a new warden, and at the moment, he wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. If he was going to bring up the fuck you, you were a vigilante, you don't know anything card every time a crisis situation happened, maybe this wasn't going to work out.

"Why do you think that's the best thing to do?"

His voice was level and curious, and he looked at the inmate openly, honestly interested in what his logic was.

If Dick had stood to posture against him, Costigan would have punched him. Because the warden remained seated, he simply relaxed slightly and puffed away at his cigarette. It wasn't that Dick was a vigilante, it was that Dick was never an undercover to his knowledge. Being an undercover was different than anything else and he knew that, without question.. sorta like losing a parent; you never knew what it felt like unless you'd been there.

The inmate ran a hand through his hair at the question and silently bemoaned his missing hat, reminding himself to talk to Mal again soon to try to get it back. After a beat, he pulled the smoke between two fingers to free his lips. "Because he's going to find someone and he's going to keep killing regardless of whether or not I'm involved. If I back out now? There's a better chance of him murdering me because I wasn't redeemed. If I keep going, not only do I have a better chance of making it out of there alive, but I might actually be able to help or warn an intended target."

Dick nodded to show he understood, but didn't comment for a minute. The inmate's logic was definitely sound, but again, Dick didn't like handing over control to other people, unless he knew they could handle it. And while he wasn't thinking Costigan was incompetent or incapable of taking care of himself, it was hard to separate his feelings of personal responsibility for the inmate and concern for his well being from the situation. He'd rather he take care of it himself instead of letting Costigan get further involved, even if he knew that was pretty much impossible at this point.

So, he was sort of fucked either way, and honestly, if he let his personal feelings get in the way, the inmate was right. Someone else could get killed, and whether or not that was Costigan shouldn't make that much of a difference. Preventing John from killing again should be the priority regardless of who the victim was.

"Okay. But if you do this, this can't be some secret project I hear about once and never get any follow up on. If you're planning on trying to monitor when John's going to kill someone again, whether or not it's you, you can't be doing this totally on your own." Dick had, actually, done the solo undercover thing before, and it had concluded with a bomb getting dropped on his city, killing over one hundred thousand people. While history wasn't necessarily going to repeat itself here, he definitely wasn't planning on letting the inmate take on the situation pretty much by himself.

Costigan, on the other hand, had never done the undercover thing alone. He had always had someone to report to, from Queenan to Dignam and eventually the rat bastard Sullivan. Maybe that was the difference between being a vigilante and working as part of a unit, the inmate mused silently. After Dick finished his conditions that sounded all too much like a lecture, the inmate gave a simple nod. Then he moved to lean back on the edge of his desk, showing that the aggression had waned.

"Never planned to do it that way. We need a task force. I'm thinking you, Sergeant Howie, and Graham." Even though Costigan wasn't fond of federal agents, and that seemed to be what he recalled Will being, the guy was John's warden and that necessitated his inclusion. "That work for you? Or do you want to keep telling me what a bad idea this is and how I don't fuckin' care?"

Yeah, there was a hint of bitterness about that false assumption, but nothing he wouldn't be over in a day or two.

Dick's already hypersensitive level of guilt rocketed up another several notches at the bitterness, and he grimaced apologetically, running a hand through his hair. "Sorry. That was out of line."

The apology was sincere, and before he really thought too much about it, he continued talking. "Graham told me what John was capable of, and Howie said he was probably picking people out as potential victims." He was quiet for a beat, looking at the floor and absently punching a loose fist into the open palm of his opposite hand in a sort of 'I have too much energy to know what to do with' gesture, not bothering to try and mask the guilt in his voice. "I should have realized something was up."

Which on the outside might have sounded sort of crazy, considering there wasn't necessarily a lot linking Howie's weird behavior to the inmate, to Dick, it had been a major failure on his part. He was supposed to be better than this. He might not be Batman - yet, a thought that was still just as unpleasant now as it had been back when Steph had first let it slip - but he was a detective, and a damn good one. He'd solved cases with less evidence and less time than this before, and if he'd been paying attention, he might have at least thought to check where John was, and if he was acting weird(er then usual, anyway). But he hadn't, Howie had died, and he felt responsible. The guilt was distracting, intensely frustrating, and left him testier then usual.

Moment of vulnerability over, he looked back at Costigan, forcing himself to think about the job and not his concerns about the past situation. "That sounds fine. You want to start working immediately, or would you be okay with holding off until Howie's up to actually sitting down and discussing this? And do you want to run it by Will, or should I or both of us or what? I don't exactly know the guy well so I'm not sure how he'd rather we go about doing about this."

Costigan looked up with an element of surprise painted on his face at the apology. He wasn't used to such straight forward sentiments most of the time, except with women, and so he gave it a grateful nod and the issue was resolved in his mind.

To the latter, the inmate frowned slightly. It was impossible not to hear the guilt and Dick's actions, idle boredom or not, suggested that he felt he should have been more directly involved. The former undercover's first thought was that it was unprofessional to get so emotionally involved, but it would be a bad, hypocritical joke to really believe that. Instead, he offered what little support he could reasonably give. "It wasn't your fault, guy. No one knew the sarge wasn't himself. There was nothing to say anything was going on. If he'd gone missing and no one could find him, sure, maybe then, but no one even noticed he was gone until he'd turned up really."

Which said something about the Barge that Costigan wasn't particularly pleased with. In Boston, there was a specific crew and they spent some time together nearly every day whether there was a job to work or not. It kept them cohesive. Here, it was a mess of acquainted individuals who were only cared about by the handful of over one hundred people aboard.

But Dick wanted to move on too and so the inmate focused on the job. "I already talked to the sergeant a little about what happened. We can wait until he's a little better to include him, at which point we both talk to him. We only ask Will once Howie's already on board."

Dick appreciated what the inmate was trying to tell him, or at least, the sentiment behind it, but he was still sort of too caught up in the guilt spiral to really start accepting that Costigan (and Kay, and everyone else) was right. Obviously no one was really to blame for this but John Doe himself, and it was sort of a waste of energy to feel otherwise, and he would come to that conclusion eventually. But right now, he sort of had to just work through it for a few more hours, probably go for a run in the CES, maybe see if Cooper or someone was around to spar with, and just try to come to terms with it his own way.

So, he just nodded, managing a sort of awkward "I don't really know what else to say because I'm still blaming myself, but thanks for trying to make me feel better" small smile before latching on to the topic change. Having a job and a goal to help prevent this from happening again was actually a pretty good way to yank him out of the funk and get him to start looking forward again instead of obsessing over the mistakes he may or may not have made a few days ago.

"Sounds good to me." At the moment, it was pretty safe to say that Dick was absolutely not Will's biggest fan, which was maybe a little unfair. He was just frustrated that Will hadn't been willing to acknowledge just how much his inmate needed to be monitored and someone had died because of it.

A thought occurred, slightly off topic, but he voiced it anyway, his tone sliding back for the first time in the conversation to genuinely conversational, almost entirely normal. "How long have you been thinking of doing this?"

Edited 2011-02-15 16:31 (UTC)

Costigan let the initial topic go because he understood guilt as well as anyone and he also understood that it was something you couldn't choose to change for a person. The inmate took another long drag on his cigarette and began to puff out a few smoke rings in the silence. Still continuing the action, he gave his warden a disconcerted and quizzical expression in reply. Funny he blew out the excess smoke to use his words. "Doing what? The undercover thing with John? Just thought of it when I found out he killed Howie."

Dick nodded, a little impressed that that had been his first idea, especially considering the vigilante's had been to go hunt down John himself, which was far from productive and probably said something about his considerable level of emotional involvement in this kind of thing. But honestly, while he definitely didn't think of the inmate as incompetent or incapable of taking care of himself, he hadn't had a ton of opportunity to actually see Costigan in action or anything, and the fact that he was that quick to come up with a productive solution that would hopefully benefit everyone for the long term was something he admired. It wasn't surprising, because again, he knew the inmate was more than capable, but it was still something Dick respected.

"It's a good idea. Seriously. And as long as we do this as a team, like you said, you've got my full support on this." And he meant it.

Costigan couldn't really think of another solution right now. John was too established to take on his own and he didn't think his warden, or any of the Bostonian's warden friends, would be willing to help him. Besides, John seemed like the kind of sick fuck to take death quietly and that kind of thing never sat well with the undercover. He couldn't just ignore it either, not with the murder of a guy he actually respected. So what else did he know besides walking away and beating the shit out of people? Working undercover.

Of course, he wouldn't tell his warden it was pretty much a process of elimination. Not when the guy seemed so happy. "..Thanks."

Process of elimination or not, it was still a good idea in both the interest of Costigan's safety and that of other people on the Barge, and Dick was actually really kind of not really but definitely looking forward to getting the ball rolling on it. He needed projects, something to keep him focused and busy, and without them, he got bored. When he got bored, he got depressed or frustrated or just generally was not in a good place, and having something that sort of resembled police work to do was great. Better then great. So far, all the Barge had really done for him personally (besides give him a ulcer about how shitty the future looked) was remind him how much he'd liked being a cop, and how he sort of really missed it, so this was pretty much right up his alley, now that he was getting used to the idea.

He shrugged nonchalantly, now with a definitely more genuine small smile. "No problem."

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