Each day she holds her head high, pretending to be ok, not wanting anyone to see the scars of her past. She goes through the motions each day, praying that no one would ever catch on. But there was one, he saw her. He knew that the things she never mentioned, were the ones that cut the deepest. He knew her better than anyone. She hated to admit it, but she needed him, she would never be able to go on without him. He was her pillar of strength between a rock and a hard place.
She picks at her salad, not saying much, just listening. He looks at her, and in a moment of clarity, without any notice, he just stops. He looks at her, but she's too busy picking at the salad to notice. He touches her hand, the hand that's wrapped around a fork. She freezes, and her eyes move from her plate. She looks up at him. She sees in his eyes that he's waiting on her. She doesn't say anything, so he takes the lead, just the way she was used to. She needed to be lead, she needed it, to get out of her own head.
"You know I always do all the talking. I guess that I've just known you too long. I expect you to let me do the talking. What's on your mind?"
She looks out the window of the restaurant, taken off guard by his gesture. "It's nothing," she lies.
"Nothing? I don't believe it. You can't lie to me."
"I..." she begins, but finds herself at a total loss of words.
"I'll grab the check and..."
She begins shaking her head.
"Talk to me. Just once talk to me," he begs.
"Ok," she agrees.
He grabs the check, and they walk toward the car, that's parked next to the curb, just yards from the diner. He walks to the passenger's side, and waits for her to unlock the door. He turns around when she doesn't. He finds her standing next to him, dangling the keys in front of him. He meets her gaze, looking at her questioningly.
"You should decide before I change my mind," she goads.
He takes the keys from her hand, and walks around to the other side. They climb inside the car. She puts her seatbelt on, and he turns on the car. He locks the door, but the car doesn't move. She looks at him in irritation.
"Are you going to drive or..."
"Not until you talk to me."
"This is a silly game, even for you."
"You know everything there is to know about me, but you... you share so little."
"What do you want me to share, exactly?"
"Your deepest darkest secret," he taunts.
She scowls at him. "Is there something specific you want to know, because, if not then... we should go."
"Where? We have nowhere to be," he points out.
"What do you want to know?" she questions in irritation.
"I want to know about you."
"What?"
He takes a moment, racking his brain for a satisfactory answer. Finally something comes to mind. His eyes lock with hers, "How did you get the scar on your shoulder blade?"
"I got it when I was working on Vice," she answers.
"I didn't ask when. I asked how," he reminds her.
"I got it when I was working a case," she responds.
"How?"
"I have a better question, how do you know about it?"
"Doesn't matter," he points out.
"I got it undercover. I said something smart, and...he warned me to think twice before saying anything else?"
"With a knife in your shoulder blade?"
"I was stupid, and I had to respond," she answers numbly.
"Why do you try so hard to cover up all of your scars?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
"What aren't you telling me?"
She huffs, "Things that you don't need to know," she reveals.
"Please tell me," he begs.
"I can't," he lip quivers.
"Can't, or won't?"
"I can't talk about them. I..."
"Legally you can't talk about them, or you just can't bring yourself to talk about them?"
"Are you trying to interrogate me?"
"No," he shakes his head.
"It sure feels like it."
"I'm not," he promises softly.
"You don't want to know," she murmurs.
He turns off the car.
"What did you do that for? We'll melt," she growls.
"Then start talking."
"Stop interrogating me," she warns.
"Please," he begs.
"Ok," she agrees. "It was one of the first times I went undercover. I was under for sixteen months. From September of ninety-four to January of ninety-six."
"That's a long time to be undercover."
"Too long. I saw things that…" she trails off.
"Tell me about it."
She takes herself back to that place, back to the person she was, then. Who she was, and who she was pretending to be.
"I remember it more vividly than I've ever wanted to," she admits.
"Yeah?"
"I was young and naïve. I made a lot of mistakes."
"Did you blow your cover?"
"That was never an issue."
"It was never an issue?"
"I was fully committed to my cover, but there were still problems," she reveals.
"What kind of problems?"
"I got in too deep."
"What was your cover?"
"I was originally just supposed to collar a couple of big time drug dealers, but one of them really liked me, and my boss told me to go with it."
"So how badly did things go?"
"As bad as they can go."
"Care to elaborate?"
"Not particularly."
"What was your cover?"
"I was just supposed to be a waitress at the bar that they frequented."
"You as a waitress? Now that's something I'd like to see."
"I was a very good waitress."