Affections
I watch you as you walk calmly into that station. I stare at you, as you wonder by, holding yourself elegantly, and seemingly gliding along. I briefly wonder what you are here for, but that doesn't concern me as you enter Cragen's office, unannounced. A few minutes later, my question is answered.
You are our new A.D.A., the woman that is supposed to prosecute our cases. I know nothing about you, but instantly as you begin to speak, I know that you will fight with every fibre of your being for the victims. You give us a brush-up on the new legal updates regarding arrests, probable cause and search warrants. I'm not listening, your voice floats and covers me like a blanket, taking away all my senses. When you finish, I am surprised to find I'm the only one not moving.
You stare at me, confusion in your eyes. I blush, though I quickly cover it. No-one can know what I feel, or what happened. Evidently, your question goes unanswered as I walk past you to my desk. Briefly, my partner looks up, and asks what the problem was. I tell him nothing, but I know that I can't hide what I feel for you forever. When I leave that day, my mind is filled with nothing but images of you.
As we work together, we become stronger. We form a bond, a purely platonic friendship. As you prosecute a man for rape, and succeed, I ask you out to dinner. Before you can take it as anything more than a platonic gesture between friends, I apologise and rephrase. You agree, but I see something in your eyes that looks like sadness. I speculate that you might return my feelings, but I dismiss the thought quickly.
There is no way that, the vision of perfection you are, would ever return these feelings to someone like me. Someone whose past is so riddled with lies, deceit and deception that they have no idea who they are but only that they must trust their instincts. You deserve someone so much better, someone who has the capability to give you everything you deserve.
We have dinner at a restaurant near your apartment. As I walk you home, we talk idly about everything and nothing. My heart stops when you ask if you think my partner would be interested in you. I desperately want to say that it isn't possible, but I know that I can't lie to you. Softly, I tell you that anyone in their right mind would be the luckiest person on earth to be with you. You blush lightly, and it is all I can do to keep the wide grin from bursting my face.
As we bid goodnight, you gently kiss my cheek before rushing into the building. I decide to walk home, and I as enter, I can't help but think of your kiss. Did you mean it as a gesture of platonic affection? Did you mean it as something more? This thought is dismissed hurriedly, you are interested in my partner. Jealousy burns through my chest, and I have an immense desire to hurt the person who has captured your attention.
The following morning, I glare at my partner harshly, and snap at everybody. It's not intentional, but I'm frustrated and hurt that you can't see how I feel. They don't know what the cause was of my anger, but as soon as they see you, they shout a warning. There's no reason for that; I could never be angry with you.
You look at me in surprise when you learn that I'm angry. I suppose you thought that I had iron control of my temper and emotions. I see the train of thought that goes through your head when you learn of my mood.
'It's not your fault,' I think as I see your expression change to sorrow as you look at me. Either you don't understand or you want to apologise anyway, but as you say you're sorry, I can't help but think that you're playing me. You should have been able to clearly read the message displayed on my face, yet you ignored it. Apologising to me for your behaviour the previous night, when I know that I will cherish that gentle peck forever.
I nod in acceptance, and out of the corner of my eye, I see you leave. I want to race after you and beg you to return, but I can't lose my composure in front my colleagues. I vow that I will join you in your office later and explain. What my explanation is, I have no idea. All I can think is that I need to make this up to you, and I have no idea how.
For the rest of the day, my mind is filled with thoughts of you, and I get no work done. My partner glares at me, when I accidently kick him under the desk because of my growing restlessness. I glare back, but say nothing. We remain in silence, until it is time to leave. I rush out of the building, as fast as I can go, and run to Hogan Plaza. I stop outside your office; I don't want you to think that I rushed over here.
A few minutes later, I enter and find you curled up on the sofa. You look so peaceful, laying gracefully, your hands placed over your stomach. Your hair is fanned out around your head, giving the impression of a halo. It's true, I think quickly, as I admire your sleeping form, and you look like an angel as you sleep. I desperately wish that you could be my angel. I turn to leave, but before I do, I notice the drop in temperature in the office. Quickly, I find the blanket that you keep hidden in one of the cupboards.
I slowly and gently wrap it around your sleeping body, being careful not to wake you. As I once again admire you, I impulsively lean down and kiss your forehead lightly. As I pull back, my lips burn with the sensation of your skin under them. I leave hastily before I can do anything else irrational. For the next few weeks, our friendship grows, and I start to wonder if maybe you might be interested.
I ponder this frenziedly, wondering if I might have even the slightest chance with you. I think you have noticed what I feel, when you ask me if there is anything that I would like to tell you. I feel like a deer-in-headlights and after a few awkward seconds, you retract the sentence. Before you can apologise further, I begin to explain. I tell you that I have feelings for someone, and I don't think that they will ever return them.
As you answer, and give advice, I can't help but wonder what the strange glint is in your eyes. It isn't one I have seen before, but it's something that I want to rectify. Something about your expression tugs at my heart, and I wonder what I can do to make it better. I barely listen to your words, once again entranced by your voice.
When you stop talking, you look at me strangely. I think that you have noticed that I'm not paying attention. Apparently worried, you place a cool hand against my forehead, and I blush and warm at your touch. Quietly, you tell me that I'm a little warm, but I do not have a temperature. I nod absent-mindedly as I stare at your lips, which move enticingly.
As your hand continues to caress my face, I can't stand it any longer. With a low growl, I lean forward and capture your lips in a frantic kiss. It is our first, and I can sense your shyness as you trace my lips and roam my mouth. Several seconds later, we pull apart, and I look at you. I don't know why you returned my kiss, and I look down into my lap, ashamed of what your reaction might be.
With tenderness I hadn't expected, you raise my chin, forcing me to look into your eyes. The love and affection I see clearly reflected at me, overwhelms me. You return my feelings, and I am overjoyed. Gently, I lean forward once more and ensnare you in a kiss. This one is much more tender and soft, it has an underlying soothing note, as well as calm fondness. As we part once more, breathing deeply, I prepare myself for what I am about to say.
"I love you," I state quietly, looking deeply at your face, trying to find some sort of reaction. Your face lights up with joy, as you look at me, "I love you," you reply in turn. Thinking, I have finally found happiness, I beam and smile widely.
Two weeks later, you are shot.
(I know this is not usually my normal style, but I hope that it was well written. I usually don't like stories written like this, but half of it came to me when I was trying to get to sleep one evening. I hope that you like it, and I hope that you let me know what you think of it.)