Late Night Visit
So this is my first story written for Beauty and the Beast. Hope you like it!
Summary: Cat has a late night visitor. Character's thoughts are in bold italic. The usual disclaimers apply. Reviews are welcome.
oOo
It was late evening, well after 11pm, by the time Catherine Chandler returned to her apartment. All the lights were off since her sister, Heather, was staying with her boyfriend Josh that night. She locked the front door and left her keys in the bowl on the kitchen table. When she got in at this hour, Cat would rarely eat dinner, preferring to have something more substantial at breakfast. She favoured her right leg as she slowly limped to her bedroom. She couldn't wait to get into the bath for a good long soak. That is exactly what she needed to ease her aching ankle. She had twisted her left ankle while taking down a suspect earlier on that evening and did not have an opportunity to attend to it while she brought the man in for questioning. The adrenaline of the chase had numbed the pain but the walk up to her apartment had taken its toll. The knee-high black leather boots provided excellent support during times like these. Fashionable and practical too, she thought to herself. But, now in the safety of her home, her guard was slowly coming down and the pain in her ankle was beginning to demand attention.
She navigated the short passage to her bedroom by moonlight. Bed. Bath. Bed. Bath , was all she could think about. The door swung open and she flicked the lights on. She immediately looked at the open window to her fire-escape half-expecting, half-hoping that Vincent would be there, waiting for her.
If I ever needed the Doctor to give a house-call... she smiled at the thought. Feeling a little guilty, (but not too much), she imagined what it would be like to be taken care of by Vincent and the fantasy carried her mind away from the present moment. Would he coddle her and make a big fuss. Most likely he would lecture her about her safety and for not taking better care of herself. Then she would say it's only a twisted ankle and not a gunshot.
She dropped ungraciously onto the foot of her bed and began the lengthy process of stripping away the many layers. Jewellery were the first to go. Followed by the intricate and delicate removal of aforementioned boots. She limped into the en-suite bathroom and started her bath. She poured in arnica oil to ease her aching bones and slowly slipped into it's hot and sudsy embrace. Her thoughts never straying far from Vincent. It was like that all the time now.
He had visited her the night before to discuss the case that was closed earlier today. He was wearing his usual green army jacket and a fitted black shirt. He always had a clean smell and a slight hint of cologne. As if he had just stepped out of a shower... Shower... Vincent... Cat's heart began to race at the thought.
The bathwater had become tepid. Time to get the show on the road. Cat slowly raised herself out of the tub and flexed her ankle. Not a hundred percent healed but better than earlier. The trick with the arnica had helped a little. She slipped into a bathrobe and made her way back to the bedroom.
As she stepped into her room. She heard a low and raspy voice say "Catherine" from her fire escape window.
oOo