Many thanks to Drumchik for the beta. This is set immediately after Shock Waves and before Blood Moon. It's a bit angsty and dark coming from me.
My 47 Years
"Alex McCann you're under arrest. Get your hands in the air. Get down, get down NOW!" I called out to the young man coming out of the pool store.
"Son, drop the bag and get down." I yelled more commands to the suspect.
"NO," cried Nick Stokes as, by chance, he saw the young man reach around and pull out a weapon. I wasn't expecting to see that let me tell you.
Within a blink of an eye bullets were being fired. I can't even remember who shot first, but I'm pretty sure it was Stokes who eventually made the kill shot.
Thank God for that. I'm not sure I would have been able to handle shooting another young male, let alone killing one.
I watched Catherine lower her weapon as the officer behind me called it in.
She raced to stop Nick from continuing to shoot at the suspect who was already down. He was going to reload and carry on firing his weapon. A good call on her part. I'm not sure I would have done that.
"Nick, drop it. Nicky, drop it. You all right?"
Catherine ran and I walked over to where the body lay on the ground. I couldn't look at him; I watched her instead.
She walked over to the car sitting at the curb. Her investigative skills came out as she decided that yes that was the car the young man was going to get into.
The trunk opened to a bunch of paper. Mainly maps and directions I noticed as I strode up next to her.
"He was planning to hit P.D."
"You just saved a lot of cops' lives. Next time Brass tries to beat you up or you beat yourself up, remember that."
I offered that to her not as the person I'm sleeping with but as her position as the CSI Supervisor. I thought she should at least know, that killing that young person wasn't all in vain, something good did come out of it. No more cops would have to die, at least at the hand of Alex McCann.
It's been 4 days since that scene. The funeral, the explosion and the scene where Sanders happened to shove me out of the way of a trap set exclusively for us. Us being 'the cops'.
And I think it's one of those cases that will stay with me for a long time.
Sure it's easy to fall into that 'clichéd' detective category. You know, the ones on the brink of madness or burnout. I don't know if I'm there yet, but if more things keep happening to me with young suspects old enough or young enough to be my son, I'm not sure what will happen.
I look at myself in the mirror. I'm old.
The moisture that has collected from my shower has clouded up the whole room. I open the door a crack to let out the steam. I look at my watch; 3:35 in the afternoon it reads.
I crane my head to peer into my bedroom. I see her, still sleeping in my bed. I sigh and go back to my reflection.
She, Catherine, the woman in my bed. That's something else I'm not sure about either.
I guess I really don't know where we are or more like what we are.
The first time I saw Catherine Willows all I wanted to do was fuck her. Bend her over and have my way with her.
That was in 2004.
My life was shit then. My wife had just left me. Took our son. She said she needed her 'me time'- whatever the hell that means. I just went to work just like every other day. Long hours, busy crime scenes, tons of paper work. The usual. It didn't really dawn on me that she actually left until I came home and found Jake's bike in the driveway. A note was on it saying he had outgrown it.
So I moved on, moved to Vegas and started again. I did what everyone thinks cops should do, fill their days with work and their nights with booze and women. Well I did that, just took it easy on the booze and the women… well…. I've had my share.
Catherine was the epitome of every woman cop I had ever met. Smart and funny and a bit too tough for her own good.
But all I would have wanted from her was a fuck, a screw, a way to make myself feel better about myself and my life.
Alas, we never did do anything more than flirt back then. A smile once in a while, friendly flirting over urine on the floor of a hotel bathroom. Things that we did while on the job.
Flash forward 6 years and now where are we?
I want to say we are sleeping together but, is it more than that?
I had to laugh when Catherine told me that I need sleep.
Sleep? That's all we've been doing. That and going at it every chance we get.
Sometimes the way she looks at me that's what I think, all I am to her is a roll in the sheets. A body to keep her warm at night and to make her feel good by touching all the right spots.
It's almost ironic; our situation. Is it her now that is using me to fill a need much like I wanted to back then?
She's been to known to literally push me onto the bed and have my clothes off before I can even utter a phrase or ask a question. Like I'm some immediate need of hers then I'm nothing else. No one else to her but a cop at her crime scene.
Other times, after we talk all night, or something happens that causes her to break down. I truly think she wants me to become her Knight in Shining Armor and whisk her away to Suburbia to live 'Happily Ever After.'
Honestly, I'm not that strong. I'm 47. I'm not going to be her Knight to carry her away from whatever it is she doesn't want to deal with.
I get jealous. I heard about the speech Catherine gave to Stokes after he returned from the crime scene. I heard about what she said to him about how she felt after Warrick Brown died. What she said Nick Stokes was supportive beyond words.
Yea, I knew it was her job to keep him from completely losing it, but I don't think she realized what an impact shooting someone that was my sons' age did to me either. I wish she would give me that same consideration.
Sometimes I wish I wasn't with her that night. That night of that stupid drug stakeout at the Diamond Dust hotel.
I wish I hadn't come across that jerk attacking her. I wish I hadn't seen what I saw; her struggling, fighting, keeping him from shooting her.
All I saw, or all my mind flashed to, was my 6 year old son wrestling with his cousin.
It sure as hell didn't register that it was Catherine, a woman I had just confessed that I wanted her to come home to, struggling for her life as a young man, higher than a kite, was going to kill her.
I did shoot. I killed him. I almost didn't.
I wonder now if it was then, that scene, that instant or that particular outcome that led her to my bed. I haven't asked and I'm not sure I want to know the answer either.
Not that I'm complaining. She is gorgeous and is one hell of a ride in between the sheets.
But it took me 47 years to realize, I need human contact. I need someone to counteract my mouth when it goes off. I need that in my life. I'm getting to old to live like this every day.
I would like to have someone to come home to. But, someone who isn't going to rip my clothes off the minute I walk through the door. Someone who asks how I am. Someone who generally cares about me.
I see her stirring some. I have to admit, Catherine Willows is one beautiful woman. Even when sleeping she still makes my dick hard.
She sits up and looks around. She's looking for me.
"Hey, "she mumbles. "What time is it?"
"Almost 4," I answer, walking back to the bed.
She smiles at me. Her eyes are blue, really blue and clear. It's like I can see forever in them.
They are what draw me to her. When she is like this, open, innocent, and sincere without saying anything, it's then I think that… I… I love her.
I sit down on the bed. She looks at me again with those eyes and I can't help but smile.
"When are you on?" she asks.
"11 the usual. You?"
"Same."
Funny, I think. We don't even know each others' schedules.
"I uhh, I got Nick to see the department psychologist." Catherine changes the subject.
"Yeah," I offer feeling my heart sink.
"Just wish you would have told me about Jake sooner." I wince at her words as she looks down at the blanket.
I don't want to have this discussion. I don't want to be analyzed by Catherine, I want her, I want her… I want her to love me. Or at least feel the same way about me as I do when I look into her eyes.
And that's part of the reason why I didn't want to do this. Take this step with her winding up in my bed. I didn't want it to wind up uncomfortable and stale.
But we did and she's here. And now, I'm not so sure about any of it.
"Why? Would it have made any difference?" I walk away from her and begin to get dressed. I can see I hurt her.
"Perhaps Nick Stokes isn't the only person I care about?" She's got that look on her face. A look that says she wants me to make things better for her again.
I sigh. "I know that."
"This isn't easy." Her voice breaks the silence that fills the space around us.
"Huh? What?" I ask a bit annoyed at the vagueness of the conversation.
"You and me. This isn't easy."
I don't even know what to say to that.
I leave her in silence as I finish dressing. She still sits in the bed waiting, waiting for me.
She's waiting for me to come sit with her and tell her everything is going to be okay.
I offer the first thing I can, "I never said that."
"But you know it's true." I can hear some lilting in her voice.
It dawns on me, am I that predictable? At 47? Am I that transparent that she can see what I'm thinking? Again it's funny because I'm not one to hide things either.
"No, I guess it, you, me. This. It isn't easy." I spoke the words.
I'm standing now in my own bedroom with Catherine Willows in my bed.
I'm not sure what's going on in her mind, but now I don't want to leave.
I feel her hand on my arm as I turn to get something from across the room.
Her hand, her body, it's warm. It's nice, it feels good.
I sigh again, not wanting to fight it, and let her gently pull me toward her as I fall next to her.
Her hand reaches into my hair. She strokes it tenderly and smiles at me.
God, now I really think I love her.
"Some of the best things in life aren't easy." Her words of wisdom make me smile.
I'm not sure if that truly pertains to us or whatever we have. I'm sure in some way it does. But I do know that possibly my next 47 years won't be so bad.