Things Hidden
Warnings:
Unapologetically British English has been used throughout. Also contains feelings, sometimes shared between members of the same gender.
Disclaimer:
I own nothing, and make no money from this; its just good old-fashioned harmless fun. Neither puppies nor legal rights to characters, places, or fictional worlds were hurt in the making of this (those things belong to CBS and other people far more important than me!).
Its just after midday when she's woken, and there's a halo of pale light creeping around the black out curtains, reminding her that most of the city's been awake for hours already. She's not the rest of the city, though, their simple nine-to-five lives are not hers, and she's not yet ready to leave the bed, or the shadow curled around her, or the dream they share when they're not at work. Not three scant hours since they surrendered to its warm embrace. She's still pleasantly exhausted from the night before, her back still sore with scarlet scratches and fluttering muscles protesting the brevity of their rest, and if she had her way, she'd stay and watch her gentle shadow sleep. She wants to lie there for hours, feeling warm breath wash across her skin, and stroking her fingers over soft dark hair and softer curves, but she knows that she can't.
They'd promised each other that this; this bed, this peace and softness; was just for them. Nobody else needed to know. It was separate. Work would not change it, and it would never affect their work. So when work calls, a persistent buzzing from the abandoned phone at her bedside when she should be sleeping, she has to answer. Carefully she rolls away, silently gathering her things in the dark, dropping a last kiss against a shadowy cheek and whispering 'I love you' as she slips out of the door and into the harsh light.
She becomes a different person then. No softness, just strength. The tender smile she hadn't realised she'd been wearing disappeared. Her movements lost some of their easy grace to precision. Even the smooth alto of her voice took on a harshness as she snapped open her phone to answer.
"Curtis," All business now, no time for pleasure.
The voice on the other end of the line is flat and workman-like, the product of someone else's late night. "The kid rolled on the supplier. Warrant's in."
"I'll meet Meddows and Conti there. Send uniform, but have them be quiet about it. I don't wanna be chasing this guy half way to Henderson!"
She's in her car, jamming the key into the ignition by the time she hears the tired "Sure thing Lieutenant," acknowledging her orders, but between dropping the shades over her sharp blue eyes and wrestling with the abused manual transmission she remembers the man attached to that weary voice.
"Well done with the kid, Dwyer," she says, meaning every word. "Now get some sleep,"
He chuckles in response, but she doesn't hear him. The phone's already shut and slung on the dash, barely staying put as the car peels out of the drive and hurtles down the quiet residential street towards god knows what.
