Title: Curiosity
Author: Olivia Adams Smith
Character(s): Tim Bayliss and Frank Pembleton
Rating: PG-13 for adult themes
Category: Angst and some missing scenes
Spoilers: Season 2. The episode, 'A Many Splendid Thing'
Summary: The black leather jacket…Tim Bayliss tried to resist the gift and yet he gave in to its powerful persuasion. This short story focuses on Tim's thoughts about his conversation with Frank and how he felt wearing the jacket.
Disclaimer: The dialogue between Tim and Frank in the car isn't mine. I don't own the Homicide characters, but I wish I owned Tim.
Author's note: This is my first 'Homicide' story and so I admit I'm nervous posting this fic. I don't have a beta that is an expert in writing Homicide stories, though I try my best to edit. So I would appreciate any help from someone who's willing. Any constructive criticism and feedback is greatly appreciated.
Chapter one: The unexpected gift
Tim sat at his desk inside the squad room. It surprised him to see the blonde—the woman who worked in the S & M shop. She had given him a gift he never expected…a black leather jacket? When she had gone, Tim stared at the open box while clad in the jacket he refused to wear, but she insisted. Bayliss was so lost in his thoughts that he had been oblivious to his partner, Frank Pembleton halting suddenly at his desk. Noting Frank's shocked expression, an embarrassed Tim wished he had taken the jacket off before Pembleton saw him wearing it. Pouting, he let out a frustrated sigh.
Frank chuckled. "Well, look at you."
"You think I look foolish, right?"
"No."
"You remember that woman in the store…the blonde?"
"Yeah, I remember."
"I can't believe she actually came in and gave me this jacket. You know what she said when I put it on? She said…it's you, but it's not. I look ridiculous."
Frank leaned his hands onto the desk and stared boldly into Tim's eyes. "You don't look ridiculous."
Tim shook his head. "Yes--I--do." He immediately peeled the jacket off of him and slammed it inside the box.
Frank straightened and sighed. He rolled his eyes away from Tim and then Pembleton looked at him again. "Remember the conversation we had?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't forget it."
He watched Frank walk away. Frustrated again, Tim plopped back against the chair.
Inside Tim's apartment, he paced anxiously around his bedroom. Every now and again he peeked at the box that lay on his bed. Bayliss hesitated, tired from pacing and at the same time, drawn to opening the box. He sat down. Gingerly, he took off the top, reaching for the jacket; holding it, staring at it. Tim pressed his nostrils against the leather, smelling it, intoxicating. He shut his eyes. "What am I doing?" he thought. His eyes snapped open. Uneasy about what he felt, he tossed the jacket aside. Tim's sweaty face caved into his hands. Frank asked him if he remembered their conversation in the car. How could he forget?
After leaving the S & M club, they were in the car. Tim smeared dotted sweat from off his forehead; feeling as if he would lose what he had eaten earlier. While Frank was driving, Tim said, "Tell me you don't find all this porno stuff, all this phone sex and S & M stuff disgusting."
Frank answered, "Well, Bayliss, that's the way of the world. It's been that way forever. When they dug through the ruins of Pompeii…"
Tim didn't want to remember, wishing he could forget what had been said, but the memory stubbornly replayed itself over and over in his mind. Frank, what he mentioned about fellatio…just hearing the word, knowing it meant oral sex made Bayliss cringe. And then he recalled his reply to Pembleton…
"Alright, granted. Perversion has existed since the beginning of time. We see it everywhere but that doesn't mean I'm willing to accept that."
"There are people," said Frank, "who think it's perverted for people of your color and my color to sleep together."
"No, Frank, I'm not talking about prejudice. What I'm talking about is kinky sexual acts. Dehumanizing acts between two human beings, all right? Sex is love. This is what I believe."
"Oh, yeah, right. So a beautiful woman passes you on the street. You smile at her. She smiles back. You're not thinking about marriage, you're thinking about her in a French Maid's outfit."
"No, no, I don't think that way."
"You got a darkness. You, Tim Bayliss got a darkness inside of you. You gotta know the darker, ugliest side of yourself. You've gotta recognize them so they're not constantly sneaking up on you."
Tim recalled something else Pembleton said…
"Your virtue is not real virtue until it's been tested…tempted."
Tim eyed the jacket again. He picked it up, stood in front of the mirror and slipped in on. Bayliss watched his reflection. The blonde…her voice teased him again…
"It's you. It's you."
He heard another voice, the other part of him Tim battled to ignore. It was futile.
"Go outside with it. You know where you wanna go. Don't be afraid."
There had been a chill in the Baltimore night air. Tim headed toward the busy streets where there were numerous sex clubs and prostitutes had taken their usual stroll. He shivered not only from the chill but also from his dark side tugging him forward. Tim hesitated.
"No, I can't do this," he said to himself.
"Yes, you can."
Tim continued on and stopping in front of the places he thought disgusting…the 2 O'clock club. Bayliss looked up, staring at it for a moment. His hands were tucked inside the jacket pockets. He could still smell the leather. A fantasy was screaming to be free and yet Tim refused to let it out, to think about it.
"How long can you keep it hidden? As if that part of you doesn't exist? How long?"
Bayliss left the 2 O'clock club and continued down the street, walking past more clubs. A prostitute, African-American she was and smoking a cigarette had stopped him. She whispered in his ear. Stunned at what she told him, he looked at her with wide eyes. Although he thought what she had said was perverse, Tim shuddered at the reaction inside him, sexual intensity immense and stirring; so many fantasies scolded and locked away now begged to let themselves known to the detective. His chest rose and sank from fear of what he was feeling, what he was doing.
"Embrace it. It's all right."
Tim breathed deeply and when walking away from her, he managed to smile. Smile? Yes, that had been a surprise.
"C'mon," he thought, berating himself. "I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be thinking about…no, it's disgusting. It's disgusting!"
A few other prostitutes followed, pleading to be with him. Then came another surprise, he ignored the scolding voice. Looking back at the prostitutes, he smiled again, allowing himself to enjoy the attention…the fantasies. And as he walked away from them, the smile stayed etched onto his lips.
Tim had gone back to his apartment. He took off the jacket and had gone inside the bathroom. Turning on the water, he cupped some in his hands and splashed it across his sweaty face. Looking up at his reflection, he heard the pleasant voice again, calm and soothing…
"Don't repress yourself."
Tim still could not believe he actually went out wearing the jacket; going to places that he found appalling…
He did it.
Listening to what the prostitute whispered in his ear…
He could no longer deny the fantasies, the sexual dark side. He always succeeded in keeping it buried, but this night had showed him something he never wanted to acknowledge.
"What was I trying to prove by going out there?" he said to his reflection. Tim smirked and added; "I guess I was testing myself, right, Frank? Okay, I liked the attention. I even smiled. So I must be perverted, huh? Damn!" He shut off the water. Frustrated, Tim marched into the bedroom. The jacket lay across his bed again. He slumped down onto the edge of the bed, sliding his hands through his hair. Some strands tumbled back onto Tim's forehead. Sighing deeply, he said, "I feel—I don't know, like I—I lost control. I shouldn't have gone out there." He chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm talking to myself. What the hell is wrong with me?"
"Don't be afraid. Don't repress yourself."
For what seemed like an hour, Tim sat in silence, staring out in the open space of his room. Sitting there in deep thought; the voice repeating…
"Don't repress yourself. Don't repress yourself…"Bayliss finally gave in to that voice. Taking in a long deep breath, he then let it roll slowly from his lungs and out through his puckered lips. The detective had been aware of fear that still insisted on him being its prisoner, but Tim had also known the time would come when he could no longer run away from the dark side of himself. He had to recognize it, like Frank said.
Tim picked up the jacket, staring at it for a few moments. He then strode over to his closet, opened it and neatly hung the jacket onto a hanger.
"It's you," Tim said, repeating the blonde's compliment. He managed to smile again. "Yeah, well, it's not so bad."
Bayliss shut the door.
End