He shouldn't feel this way and he knows it, but he can't help it. He knew he couldn't allow himself to feel this way, but he couldn't control his heart. He looked down at the lights of the city. He loved her. When he discovered he loved her, he couldn't say. They just always had this bond, this connection that they had with no one else. She understood him and, whether she knew it or not, he understood her. They had known each other and had been partners on the force for too long to not understand what the other was thinking without a word being spoken.
He took a sip, or rather a long swallow of the Jack he was drinking out of the bottle, thankful that the next day was an off day because he knew he'd need the day to recover.
She had dropped by tonight for no reason except to talk. To talk. He cursed silently. Nothing more. Just talking. One more long swallow of Jack. She had this power over him and she didn't know it. Only she could drive him to drink and only she could keep him from it.
He'd known her for years. Ever since the academy. He knew a lot about her. He knew her marriage was in a constant state of falling apart. Her husband blamed him. Not the he blamed her husband for thinking that. After all, they were not just partners, but best friends. And he broke the cardinal rules of never falling in love with a married woman or your best friend.
He didn't mean to fall in love with her. It just happened. When did it happen? He didn't know how to respond to the thought in his head. He leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes, envisioning her in his mind's eye.
She wasn't exactly Miss America material, but there was something about her that drew him to her. Some would argue that she was plain looking, but not to him. To him, she was the most beautiful woman alive. She had this perfectly balanced mix of strength and femininity. He knew she could pull off the tough cop look in the day and at night, pull of the sexy lacy thigh highs and make him succumb to her will. He subconsciously moaned at the thought. How many times had he imagined that? How many times did he try to visualize the lacy underwear under her uniform?
How many times had he thought of laying her down and making love to her? How many times had he prayed she'd leave her husband for him? How many times had he thought of building a life with her? Too many times for him to count.
He took another long swallow of Jack, cursing that the bottle was nearly empty. He looked where the Towers once stood tall and remembered the day he came to her, finally breaking down about what happened to him that day. She held him as he cried and never judged him. She never told him to 'Get over it.' like so many others had. She caressed him and he fought his urge to kiss her. He heard the door open and knew her husband stood there, but he couldn't move. He didn't want to. She was holding him and that's all that mattered to him.
He stumbled his way into the kitchen and found another bottle of Jack. He managed to open it and took a long swallow. He knew how he'd feel in the morning, but he didn't care. Ever since that day she came, he felt like shit anyhow.
He always thought that when she told him her marriage was over and the divorce final, he'd finally be able to tell her. Of course, she may have already known, but never said anything to him of it. Then, that day came. She came to his apartment and he knew when he opened the door and saw her eyes, he couldn't say anything.
Not then and not ever.
Now, Camelot was gone and everyone was being reassigned. She was a detective going to the 7-6 and he was still a beat cop, assigned to Bed-Stuy. Whatever chance there may have been, was gone. Gone in the flames that burned Camelot.
Maybe one more long swallow of Jack will put out the flames.
