So – this latest fic (only a few chapters) is set at the end of Episode 26, Series 3, "In Harm's Way", created and written by John Hugginson and John Banas, after Nick has shot dead William Clegg, and he and Jen share a "moment" in the car. It is my imaginings of what may have happened at that point.
Contains some dialogue from that episode.
Disclaimer: I do not own City Homicide or its characters.,
1.
They sat in the car, listening to the vitriolic comments spewing forth from the talkback show on radio. They were the usual complaints of trigger happy Police that seemed to eventuate each time there was a Police shooting. Why didn't they use capsicum spray or the tasers or something? Why didn't they try to talk him down?
If it's not street violence, it's the cops, gun crazy cowboys.
Nick sat back in his seat, staring vacantly out the window, listening to the comments that were ultimately being directed towards him and that afternoon's events. Jen couldn't take it anymore. She reached across and turned off the radio. Enough was enough. She had had the unfortunate experience of having shot dead a young man, and she knew that to hear these sorts of things from an angry public was the last thing that Nick needed right now. He would be going through enough, just knowing that he had taken a life.
"You had no choice".
"I know".
She reached out and placed her hand over his. He glanced over at her, feeling electrified by the physical contact between them and entwined his fingers with hers.
He turned to stare out the window at the night, the traffic buzzing by, life still continuing as normal for so many people.
He had empathised with William Clegg. He had never wanted it to turn out this way, the family had been through enough with the loss of their son Peter. But Nick had been left with no choice but to shoot him. He wished it had turned out differently, that William Clegg had put down his weapon and surrendered. But he hadn't. There were others at risk and Nick had been left with no other option. He knew that. He knew that Jen was right; but it didn't make him feel any less distraught at what had transpired.
Her fingers in his were having such an effect on him – tingling down his spine, his heartbeat quickened. This was the first time in four years that they had touched. He closed his eyes at the memory of it.
He lay on his side in the bed, his eyes half closed, secretly watching her as she came into the bedroom they were sharing as husband and wife, as Trish and Wesley Claybourne. She was in her pyjamas, having just had a shower. Even the shapeless pyjama top and long pants could not hide the trim and taut figure beneath. Her blonde hair hung across her shoulders and across her eyes. He constantly had to resist the urge to brush it off her face.
They had been undercover for three months now, living as husband and wife. They hadn't known each other at all, but Nick liked her. A lot. She was generous, funny and quick witted, intelligent and gentle. He thought that she was extremely attractive, maybe even beautiful, and her personality was fabulous. Everything he was looking for in a woman. Except he couldn't have her. They were here, doing a job, work colleagues, that was all.
Tonight, after dinner, his hands had brushed against hers when they both reached for the tea towel to dry the dishes. They laughed it off, but the current he felt run through him at that time was unbelievable. It was like an electric shock. There was definitely something between them, he thought; an attraction.
He felt her slip into the bed next to him. She reached over and turned out the light. He could smell her, the freshness and scent of soap radiating off her, with just the faintest lingering aroma of her perfume. It was dark, but he knew that there were cameras in the room. He didn't know whether to make a move or not. Probably not. They were working, they mustn't ever forget that.
"Nick". Her voice was a whisper and he felt her turning towards him, so he turned around to face her. "Do you think Hartono will turn up to Abdul Supomo's tomorrow night? For the party?"
He could pick up on the tension and anxiousness in her voice. "Maybe. Don't worry, though, everything's solid. We're fine."
She sighed. "I know...I just...I can't help feeling nervous about this."
He reached over and lightly stroked her cheek. She felt a shudder run through her body. He had touched her. Not as Wesley, but as Nick. She placed her fingers gently over his. Should she read anything into it, or is he just trying to comfort her, to reassure her?
He wished that he didn't have to hold back. He was sure that if there wasn't a camera in the room right now, that something might happen...
He looked down at their hands, entwined together. For four years, he had fantasised about seeing her again, about their meeting each other once again and reigniting the unresolved passion that he knew had developed between them whilst they were undercover.
"Why don't we go and I'll make you something to eat? You shouldn't be alone."
He looked over at her. She was so caring and compassionate and he loved that about her. Love. In the 13 months that they had spent together as husband and wife, he had fallen hopelessly in love with her. Thoughts of her had occupied his mind for four long years. He had been unable to move on. He had had casual affairs with women in that time – not many, just a handful; but it was never anything serious. Never anything like the feelings that he had for Jen. He had slept with other women, but it was nothing like what he had experienced previously, with her. And they hadn't even consummated their relationship. Once, they very nearly had. They had lost track of themselves, had faltered, had nearly compromised their undercover work by getting too close. That brief interlude had been explosive, and it was the one memory of her that he had to hang on to, that he used as a yardstick by which to measure any liaison with any other woman.
He shook his head slightly, trying to rid himself of the memory, bring himself back to the present.
"Okay. Sounds good. I could use the company". Oh Jen, I want to be close to you again.
She reluctantly let go of his hand. It had felt so good to touch him again. She had managed to get thoughts of him out of her head in the last four years, his face only sprung up in her dreams, or in a situation with another man. Not that there had been many. She had been celibate for all of that time. She wasn't the sort of person to just 'give it away' , she had to feel something for the person she was sleeping with. She wished that things had been different with her and Nick. She wished that they had never stopped themselves. She had never wanted anything so badly in her life, and she had not felt that way with anyone since that time.
Working with Nick again, it was bringing up these memories, these feelings that she had tried so hard to suppress; and now, touching him again. She felt the pangs of desire and longing that had once been there. Regretfully, she didn't think that things could ever progress any further between them. They were now in an even more untenable situation than they had been previously. Now they were working side by side again, in Homicide. Work colleagues yet again. Relationships between colleagues were not the done thing.
She sighed heavily as Nick put the car in drive and pulled out into the evening traffic.
