Alexander Darcy was lying in bed still, pretending he didn't have to go to work. "Five," he thought to himself, counting the number of sirens he'd heard this morning since being rudely awakened by one. He rolled over onto his side to see how late it was. "Only 10 o'clock, not too bad..." Alex thought, suddenly motivated to get out of bed, or at least sit up. "Goddammit," he thought as his head throbbed with renewed intensity. "I knew I shouldn't have had that many PBRs."
Alex had had a bit too much to drink last night when Kara's dad came home. Jeremiah Taylor, Kara's dad, and him were good friends from less than desirable circumstances since Taylor was a drug dealer. Alex had no intention of selling Taylor out, but many of his cohorts had needed to go down to provide a smokescreen, many of whom Alex had gotten to know, which only doubled his guilt when he saw them being led away in handcuffs. Alex had really liked Tyrone, he was an amusing fellow, and a bit gruff, but you could count on him. "You can't really count on me, can you?" Alex thought and sighed.
Alex was about to settle into a long afternoon of wallowing in his own guilt when the fire alarm went off. Realizing he had no clothes on, Alex quickly shoved on yesterday's clothes, hurried down the hall, and stabbed the elevator button. Remembering that you shouldn't take an elevator in case of fire, he looked around the hallway for the stairs. Finally, giving up, he went back to his room, pushed up the window, dropped down to the fire escape. Alex allowed himself a brief smile at the fact that someone was actually using the fire escape to escape from a fire. He went around to the front of the apartment building and saw a clutter of people, awkwardly he remained some distance away from them. Looking around he noticed a gruff man head towards the package store, feeling inspired by the idea, Alex followed. "What could possibly happen, right? My headache can't possibly get any worse...."

Alexander Darcy spun on his heel and headed out into the brisk very early morning air. He was exhausted, bitter about his current situation, and cold. As he walked away from the police station he felt the icy pinpricks of the first snow on his face and hands. He turned left onto Polaski Avenue and heard the muted revelry of Le Royal Theatre. The theatre wasn't popular for shows like the Globe Theatre put on, but more like the Moulin Rouge, except not even that classy.
Finally he arrived at Jupiter Apartments on the corner of Rousse and Polaski and sidled into the front door just as the snow really started to kick in. He rode the rickety elevator all the way up to the twelfth floor, one from the top, and felt his heart skip a beat from the starling downward jerk necessary for the elevator to line up with the outside door.
He walked down the hallway, slightly more awake from his near death experience, to apartment 1246. After the customary fight with the lock, he was finally home. He flipped on the lights just long enough to spot a cockroach scurrying across his floor. He threw his hat and coat onto the chair, then loosed his tie. Alexander thought about hanging up his suit jacket, but decided against it, and instead threw it into the pile with his hat and coat. Once in the bathroom his own reflection caught his eye. He ran a hand through his short black hair and looked at the dark circles under his hazel eyes; his angular jawline was covered with a few days' worth of stubble.
Alex collapsed into his bed, immediately relaxing, knowing, unfortunately, that it would be a long time until he'd fall asleep. Many times like this he'd lie in bed wondering what he was doing here.
Alexander Darcy woke up with a start as the alarm on his phone went off. Fuck, Kara! He ran around the apartment putting yesterday's clothes back on and hurried down the hall to the elevator. No matter how many times he pushed the button for the damn machine, it still wasn't coming faster. Once in the small enclosed space of the elevator, he began tapping his foot expectantly, willing the machine to go faster. At some point a girl with wandering eyes got in and he almost ran into her, thinking it was the ground floor. She was studying him as they rode down the last few floor, but Alex had resumed his tapping and didn't care or seem to even notice her existence. The elevator lurched to a stop and the instant the doors opened Alex darted out, his coat furling out behind him.
After running a few red lights and barely stopping for even more stop signs, Alex finally arrived at Guiding Light Christian School for Girls. Sitting all alone on the steps was a little 10 year old girl with her chin in her hand.
"You're late," said Kara narrowing her brown eyes, but smirking all the same.
"Would you expect anything less of me?" retorted Alex.
Kara sighed, gave up on being mad, and ran down the steps to give Alex a hug. Alex loved the little kid like she was his own, but wanted to keep her dad out of trouble so he'd be the one raising her.
"How was your day?" asked Alex, ruffling up her hair.
Kara scowled, patted her black hair down and shrugged, "Well, I liked the learning part, but I still feel out of place."
Alex nodded, understanding completely, but had no advice or comforting words to give. They got into Alex's car and the drive back home was a silent one, both lost in thought.

Kara's dad Taylor came home very late that night as Alexander Darcy was attempting to keep the roaches at bay and made a beeline for his room. Alex raised a quizzical eyebrow, but then decided he didn't want to know. Alex didn't want to know anything that would separate Taylor from his little girl. When Taylor came back out, the two grabbed some beers and settled down to watch Leno when the power returned. 

Beginning

Alexander Darcy rubbed his eyes and took a look at the line-up of fat black men on the other side of the one-way mirror. He took a long inhale of his Turkish Silver before resignedly sighing out, "That one," in reference to fat black man number three. He would know Tyrone's lamb chops and ten chins anywhere.
"Thanks Darce, couldn't've nabbed him without your tip," said Deputy Froyd Delson. Froyd was as close to a friend as he had at the police station, but Alexander still found it extremely irritating whenever Froyd referred to him as "Darce." Alexander decided not to say anything about it this time, though, because he knew Froyd had had a long night catching this drug lord. Alexander had heard that Tyrone would have $75,000 worth of cocaine in his car on October 25th, and, well, these were the wee hours of October 26th. He hoped this catch would keep them off his back for a while.
Alexander Darcy stubbed out his cigarette, put on his black fedora and threw his black overcoat over his arm, then followed Froyd out of the observation room. Once out, he saw Tyrone being lead away in handcuffs and Alexander desperately prayed to any and all higher powers that Tyrone wouldn't look up. Of course he did. The flicker of recognition that crossed Tyrone's face quickly turned into a long suspicious glare. Alex wanted to apologize, to take it all back, but he couldn't.
"I feel like a fucking narc," Alex thought, "oh wait, that's because I am."