The thing about detectives is that they not only see everything, they remember it too. They remember everything! Ask one about any place, any person, any event.. if they know of them, they can recall practically every detail in near-perfect clarity. It's part of the job after all, to pick up on the small things as well as the big things; not to mention the little tiny details that usually connect most of those things together.
It can be hard to hide anything from a private eye.
It can be even harder to surprise them.
"You can't be serious, doll."
"I am serious."
"It doesn't make any sense at all. You're not like me, I'm not like you."
"Does that have to matter?"
"You might as well marry a toaster."
"Was that a proposal already?"
She laughed, but he sighed. It was a defeated sigh, not the happy kind she had hoped for.
Had expected, to be honest.
Her shoulders started to drop, but she swallowed hard and did her best to remain standing, challenging, mocking... she had to keep herself strong as steel.
Strong and cold steel.
"Nora... Nora, I can't. We can't."
Her hands are very naked and cold now, just hanging in the too-still air between them. The sight of his own hands returning to his sides rocks her heart hard. Suddenly she can't help herself and she gripped her own elbows, crosses her arms, a defense shield she needed to manage, to keep together the bits she wasn't expecting to break.
She tosses back her head and laughs; The sound is so close to normal that it makes it easier for her. It's easy to pass everything off with a casual shrug, like it was no big deal, more of a joke she let get too big and certainly nothing with real emotions or feelings, no, never. It was fine.
It had never been real.
And she knows that's not true, but it also is at the same time. It doesn't matter if she believes in him, if he's more man to her than anyone else could ever be.
He doesn't believe himself that he's real.
And she can't change that.
The office is quiet.
He's not asleep, of course, no need, of course, but even if he could...
He can't stop thinking about those sad, sad eyes.
He can't stop replaying every flicker of hurt she fought to hide.
Can't stop remembering how she had dug her nails into her skin, trying so hard to be so steady.
He sighs.
It doesn't matter. He knows it couldn't be real. How could it have been?
A human- a living, breathing, beautiful human- needed another human beside her.
Cold steel could never do.
Eventually he turned off the lights.
He doesn't need to sleep.
He closed his eyes.
