This wasn't her first time sitting alone at the bar, anxiously waiting for either Jane, Reade or Patterson to arrive late. She kept picturing either one of them begging for forgiveness as they sat in the seat next to her. Her mind seemed to be flooded with many thoughts now that she was trying to avoid betting and gambling. That she did her best to tuck it away in the back of her head and avoid completely.

Looking at her phone she kept clicking on the conversations with Patterson, Jane and Reade, hoping that the tiny gray bubble with the ellipses would appear. Every time she saw that little tiny bubble she would feel a little rush of adrenaline running through her body. On occasion, that rush of adrenaline would convert itself into an anxiety. So as she waited for a gray bubble to appear she told herself: You could message both of them again, and just say that your connection was spotty so you weren't sure if they got the message. Or you could ask simply send a question mark. No, no, no. You'd sound needy.

Without really thinking about she felt as her fingers glided over the keyboard to send a sole question mark to Patterson. No... Great self-control, Tash. Can see why gambling took over your life. She hated when her thoughts went dark or crossed the thin line between good and bad. Very often, a few negative phrases escalated into the dark hole that was ever so difficult to climb out of. For a while, she was good at avoiding that place, but lately, it was a place she was constantly in. She knew that getting comfortable in that dark place would be tragic given her personality. That is why she more than ever tried being a little more social with everyone at work. She opened up a bit more to Reade and started inviting Jane or Patterson for drinks much more often. She avoided time being alone with her thoughts and distracted herself with other things. Most of the time it was by drinking, and if not that then running. She supposed that there was a balance between the both.

When she heard the acute sharp ding sound, she quickly glanced at her phone to see who it was. Such ding reminded her that she really needed to change the tone of her notifications. Whenever she heard it too constantly she would end up with a headache and it only made her migraines worse.

Patterson: ?

Patterson: Question mark to you too, Tasha.

Tasha's head went back an inch, she was not expecting such response. Confused, she decided to psychoanalyze the previous messages. As she Looked back she noticed that Patterson had not received the previous message. Great.

Tasha: I'm at the bar, the usual one. You busy?

It had not been more than a minute since she had just sent out the message when she saw the little gray bubble with the ellipses moving. Yes. Patterson was typing. Her pupils were well dilated waiting for Patterson's message to go through.

Patterson: OMW

Patterson: On my way.

Patterson: It auto-abbreviated. See you in ten, Tash?

She nodded and smiled with a little extra joy, just like she did when she was ten and beat her older brother at video games. Tasha was content because Patterson's presence aside from being a good one and one that she had grown fond of ever so more recently also meant that she did not have to drink alone. Looking back at the text conservation she registered that her smart cheeky nerdy coworker had called her Tash. Not many people called her Tash. Tasha knew that she was getting comfortable around her, but she wasn't sure that Patterson was getting comfortable around her too. Being a little too excited about having a drinking buddy for the night made her almost forget to reply.

Tasha: Yes. Don't forget your card, Patt?

Patterson: *Patterson.

She covered her face as she saw Patterson's text message, and then she groaned so loudly that the bartender had to ask her if she was okay. Shit, fuck, shit. She felt a little embarrassed for having the prudence of giving Patterson a nickname. It was her fault for getting too comfortable, too soon. After taking a deep breath she told herself not to worry much. Therefore, she nodded the incident away and ordered another drink.

After thinking about it, and not being sure what Patterson would want to drink she ordered another bourbon. It was not that she was impatient and out of urge ordered a drink for Patterson, but rather according to their unexpected plans Patterson should have already been there five minutes ago, so she assumed that she would be there any minute. When the bartender placed Patterson's drink next to hers she turned around towards the door to check if a blonde smart-ass gal was anywhere to be seen, but the door was shut and there was no Patterson in sight.

It wasn't a while later until Patterson prodded Tasha's shoulder with her finger. Not expecting such greeting, Tasha almost jolted out of her seat. Glancing up at Patterson, who had an awkward smile decorating her face, Tasha's eyebrows furrowed and her lips pursed. "You're late." She announced as she put her hand on top of the seat where Patterson was about to sit. "Your drink melted. You made me waste nine dollars on some classy bourbon that is now diluted."

She could tell that Patterson felt either guilty or bad, maybe even both. "New York traffic." Patterson tried to ease the situation and optimistically try to use that as an excuse. Traffic in New York was probably the biggest horror of living in the city, aside from the expensive rent. Patterson pointed to her hand, "Now, common, let me sit." Tasha's glare was no longer stern, but exuberant. The little smile that seemed to creep from the corner of her lips was quickly sedated by Tasha's efforts to remain the ambient uneasy. She could tell Patterson wanted to sit, but her hand was prohibiting her from doing so. "I'll sit on it..." Patterson warned and teased.

"I don't wanna touch your butt, Patterson" Tasha whined as she fake-cringed her face.

Patterson nodded, "I know." She waited, but nothing. "Tasha, please. I mean, unless you secretly want me to sit on your hand so that you can touch my ass. You wanna touch my ass, Zapata?" Hearing her say that, she quickly and in fear took her hand off of the seat and watched as Patterson pridefully took a seat. She then ensured to note: "Thank you." Reaching to take a drink of the bourbon she taunted, "I don't mind watered down drinks." She took a sip and cringed, "Okay, maybe I do." Tasha laughed enthusiastically and ensured that Patterson heard every syllable.

"Just drink your drink," Tasha begged. "Patt..."

"Noo… Patterson." She corrected the agent with the messy hair as she grasped her shoulder lightly, "Patt reminds me of an old lady or man." Tasha smiled and did her best not to concentrate that much on Patterson's hand. She wasn't used to human contact, and being isolated and secluded from other human beings, despite work, made Patterson touching her awkward. Tasha tried not to glance down at her shoulder that much, but every second that went on she felt a burning sensation grow more and more, the longer Patterson kept her hand on her shoulder. It's just a hand, nothing more. On the other hand, Patterson had no idea that her hand was on Tasha's shoulder.

When Tasha's shoulder was finally clear of Patterson's grip, she couldn't help but to furrow her eyebrows when contemplating the possible reasons as to why Patterson had grabbed her shoulder like that. Lost in her trance of thought, it was Patterson clearing her throat that brought her back into reality. Unsure of what to do or say she randomly came up with a suggestion. "You wanna see if the bartender will get you a fresher drink?"

"Yeah, I mean I can drink this, but if I can get something with less water and a higher concentration of alcohol, that would be much better." Her eyebrows were raised high in excitement. Patterson loved hanging out with Tasha, she was one of the few chill people still alive. After waiting for the bartender to come over, they gave up and signaled him over. The bartender, being a kind guy and knowing who they were and how loyal they the bar, agreed to exchange the drink for a much fresher one. Both women were surprised that he agreed to do such a thing. They smiled flirtatiously as he brought Patterson a fresher drink. When he was finally gone they dropped the act and looked over at Patterson's new drink. She drank in approval.

"Which one of us is getting drunk and who will be the babysitter?" Tasha spoke as she placed her lip on the rim of her glass which was decoratively covered with sugar.

Patterson reached out for her drink. She took a small sip and then cleared her throat. "Well, Tasha. We could always flip a coin." She noticed how her suggestion was not taken easily by Tasha. One of the perks about hanging around Tasha was that she was real and honest with her. Though sometimes she was a tee bit too brutal honesty.

Tasha chuckled, but before she could say anything more she licked her lips clean from the sugar. "With what coin?" Tasha dramatically put her hands into her blazer in search of a coin. As her hands came out empty she sighed. "All I have is plastic." She teased moving her credit card around and then fanning herself with it.

"Very funny. All I have is my phone and that wallet app."

Not being able to decide they both tilted their glasses; their bottoms up. They drank in silence, but that was a lie. The music was loud and explosive, and there was the constant hum of the machines dispensing alcohol. But in their silence all these things were ignored, just like the constant laughter and footsteps of the people who were there to have a good time. In their silence, there was only the other and the drink in front of them, because what more could they ask for?

Tasha knew exactly what though. In the back of her mind or in the bottom of her heart, she longed for happiness. More discretely and less thought about, she longed for love. The type of unconditional and artificial love that she saw on Spanish soap operas, movies and books. It was hard, sitting there at age thirty-one and feel on top of the world when every day felt the same as the last. Realizing that nothing was going right or as planned made her more upset. That's why, when Patterson glanced over at Tasha. She saw a Tasha unlike no other. Her shoulders were loose and her eyes an ambiguous gloom. It was as if a huge metal shield of armor had collapsed and she was finally allowed to have feelings. She didn't like seeing people upset, and usually, she was great and helping people out. Yet, she didn't know where to start with Tasha. Knowing that both of them had endured so much the past year in the FBI, she couldn't blame her for finally taking her guard down. Especially not after the tremendous case they had just had. At times, Patterson wondered how they managed to get through cases without any major breakdowns. Though Patterson didn't know what was up with Tasha, she knew enough to infer that it could be anything from her unorthodox upbringing to the horrendous day at work.

"What?" Tasha asked defensively as she saw how Patterson was looking at her, "Don't look at me like that, Patterson, that's not why I asked you out for a drink." Her words sounded stale.

Patterson nodded, "I know..." she admitted in a voice that sounded foreign to Zapata. Tasha looked down at her drink, but before she could submerge herself in her thought processes Patterson grabbed her hand. "But is it going to be okay?" She didn't need to look up to see the concern written on Patterson's face because it was visibly stitched into every chord that came out of her throat. "Is it because of what happened today?" Patterson squeezed a little tighter, "If so, we can talk about it if you want."

"No." She tried to smile, hating herself for making Patterson concerned in the first place. The last thing she wanted was to make a pity party scene in front of Patterson. They were supposed to be half drunk and having fun, not engaging in a dreaded conversation. She most likely had other things to deal with, no need to add herself to that list. "It's not because of work."

"Life in general?" Patterson asked. She squeezed tighter as if doing so was going to give her all the answer she was looking for.

Tasha didn't know what to say, so she managed to force another smile and nod.

Patterson lets go of her hand for fear of making Tasha's hand permanently blue. She now knew and understood that she didn't want to talk about, she simply wanted to forget and put everything away, at least for a moment. Patterson didn't blame her. It was then when Tasha finally glanced up, and Patterson easily read that there was still hurt still inside of her, even if there was a well-painted smile. "Let's both get drunk." And so they raised their glasses to that.

AN: Let me know what you think :)