I've never been good at telling stories, especially not about things that happened to me. Old scars that should have healed over long ago, I guess. Still, even though my life has gotten better I have a difficult time forgetting all the harsh lessons I learned when I was a kid. Learning that it was best to hide when I was hurting, otherwise the world would notice and use the pain to hurt me even worse.

But at some point I guess I let my guard down; that is the only reason I can think of for how things changed. Helped uncover a political scandal, gave up my life as a petty scam artist, somehow made it through the academy to become a cop, and found myself assigned to the best partner I could ever want. All because of that sly bunny.

I never asked Carrots—sorry, Judy—what she saw in me. She's practically defines the word "idealist." Normally I'd count that as a fault, and yet. She believes it all so earnestly it's contagious, grabbing hold of something I thought was lost long ago and just making me want to see the world that way too. Because if we could make it work everything would be so much better. And because it would make her happy. I'll never know how she does it.

So I cleaned up my life and joined the academy. When I got out we became partners. I was happy, which was a little weird. Things had never been great before, but I'd never realized how cheerless my life was. Maybe I put up such a good front that I fooled myself, or maybe I just accepted that the misery was simply meant to be. Karma. Regardless, those few years were great.

And then we weren't partners any longer. That probably sounds bad, but it really wasn't. See, as partners we naturally spent our shifts together, chatting about literally anything to keep boredom at bay. Eventually we started spending our free time together as well. Then, at some point, we realized what I assume the entire precinct already knew.

So we got split up. Regulations. Fraternization between partners is forbidden. Didn't matter to us, not even the looks. Maybe we saw each other a little less during the day, but when we did get together we could be more open.

Things were rough, especially at first, but somehow we managed in spite of the inevitable misunderstandings and occasional fight. It got better, we moved in together and learned how to make things work. There were a lot of rough patches, a lot of hurt feelings, but for some reason she never wanted to give up. Neither did I.

Which I guess brings us to the story I'm so valiantly running from. Night after work, our third anniversary just two weeks behind us. We'd decided to meet at our usual diner to grab some food before heading home. My mind honestly wasn't all there. I was looking out at the rain, watching it fall through the light cast by the street lamps. One flickered intermittently. It was a soft, gentle rainfall. Soothing.

That was nice because I was pretty nervous. I'd been thinking a lot about the future at the time. Soon I'd be pushing my way into 40, and though Judy would always be beautiful in my eyes she was starting to lose some of her youthful bounce. She deserved more than the never ending holding pattern we were locked into, even though she claimed she didn't mind.

Heh. I don't know why it seems funny now, but I'd already bought the ring. Even had it in my pocket right then. Simple thing, just a band of gold without even a stone. Kept checking to make sure it was there, though I didn't dare propose. It needed to be something special. Something nice, but private, so we wouldn't have to deal with the same looks we got whenever we kissed. Just her and me together. I just hadn't figured out what, or when, or how.

"You okay?" she asked. "You're spacing out tonight."

"Mmmm. Just thinking."

She put her elbows on the table, leaned over, and smiled that smile. "You're doing that an awful lot in your old age."

"I'm not that old yet," I said, though I couldn't help grinning back. The uniform still looked amazing on her. "Just got a lot on my mind these days."

"Work?" she asked.

"Yeah, those robberies I'm looking into," I lied. Considered getting on my knee then. Should have, but I chickened out. "This is a lot harder when I can't steal credit from you."

She slid down in her seat enough to kick me under the table, just hard enough to make me jump. "Dumb fox."

We both started to laugh almost like we had during our first date. It felt good. Got a lot of attention from the others in the diner. Oddly, that felt good too. I guess it is a little different when we're not dressed up. When we're in uniform most everyone just assumes we're two regular cops grabbing dinner after work.

"There is something, but I'm really not sure this is the time," I said once we both settled again. "A surprise. I just need to figure everything out first."

I remember the way she looked at me when I said that, so different from her usual self. Carrots is so outgoing I rarely catch her acting shy. Looking away like she had some sort of secret. My heart nearly jumped from my chest from worry that she'd seen the ring already.

"Well, when are you going to tell me?" she asked.

"I...uh...next week?"

And she took my hand and we just sat, eating our food while we stole looks at each other. I can tell when she's hiding something, and I'm sure she can read me just as easily. There was no need for her to ask, though. Eventually we always share everything. This would be no different.

When we spoke, we talked about work. About her family. About the precinct gossip. About the city. In a small, indirect way it was always about us.

After, we stood outside under what little shelter the entrance overhang provided and just looked into each other's eyes. The rain had washed the usual scents of the city away, so all I could smell was her. It made me want to pick her up and carry her home right then, gather some blankets, and just curl up together.

"We should go," she said, as if she'd read my thoughts. "My parents will be calling soon, and talking to them in public is embarrassing."

I actually winced. "Sorry Carrots, but there's this thing I need to take care of. One final interview in Sahara Square."

"So late?"

"Witness works a swing shift," I said. "He asked me to come by after he got off work. I'll probably come home once I'm done."

"Probably?"

I trailed my fingers down one of her ears then tapped her nose, smirking. "Well, you do snore. I might sleep better if I get a hotel room."

"Dumb fox," she muttered before licking my cheek. "How late are you going to be out?"

"A couple hours, unless I get something important enough to head back to the precinct," I said, then shrugged. "Either way, I'll be home by midnight."

"But I was hoping we could talk," she pouted.

"Like I said, I should probably be back before then. If not, we can talk in the morning, right?"

We kissed, ignoring the looks we got, and went our separate ways. Stupid. I should have gone with her.

Instead, I got in my patrol car and headed to Sahara Square. It was a long, lonely drive, and listening to the radio didn't really help. I kept feeling the ring in my pocket and thinking about Judy sitting by herself back home. She wouldn't be sad—she knew how the job could get—but I hated to disappoint her.

Arrived about half an hour later, mostly because of the traffic. For some reason I always forget that Sahara Square comes alive at night, which means I never leave myself enough time to get around. Already late, I was in a hurry to meet the witness so I scampered into the building as soon as my car was off.

Let me tell you something about movies: they lie. When someone sneaks up on the hero he always turns around at the last moment. This didn't go down like that. Not at all.

I'm...not exactly sure what happened. Something hit me. Something hard. I went down with an undignified yelp, the whole world swimming. Then a prick to my arm and a burn and then...just...nothing.