Rogers helped her up and they grabbed the canvases and items to be moved to his room. "Now that you've seen my secret treasures, what's this about you being an artist, having some works of your own?"
"Huh?" Tilly blushed, flustered. "I just make do with what I have and what comes to mind. Nothing as intricate as yours." She raised her free hand in excitement, speed walking down the hallway with him, "I mean, you have oil paints, for heaven's sake! They're expensive!"
In his room, there was a bed neatly made with a giant chest used for storage at the edge of it, a window with a desk below it, topped with files in a cardboard box, a chair, and an aquarium set up propped on a dresser which took up a third of the wall. Next to the desk to the right side of the door was a corner where art supplies were in transparent file cabinets and canvases were stacked next to one another.
"Well, it started out as a hobby, a mere interest really. A policeman's salary doesn't pay nearly enough, but it helped me pass time and get things off of my mind after the job. You can set the paintings over here," Rogers said. He walked over to put the art in the corner next to the desk.
Tilly followed suit, replying, "Yeah, I can tell," as she surveyed his artwork and supplies.
As she looked around, she got close to the aquarium and admired it in awe. "Wow! I've never seen a tank this big inside of someone's place. Look at all the little fishies!"
Some of the fish continued swimming, not caring about her presence while others darted into the hole of some cave looking rocks or in the tangle of the aquatic plants. Tilly waved at them, clearly wanting to touch the glass, but refraining herself in case she scared them off. She walked around the sides of the aquarium not touching the wall, its tank light illuminating most of the bedroom and the individuals that lived inside it. Throughout the course of her examination, Tilly pointed at different ones asking, "What kind of fish is that one? And that one?"
Rogers answered, "That's a clownfish. The other is a betta fish. The majority of them are the latter. There are also two guppies. Most of them were kept in small bowls that weren't suitable as their habitat at the pet store. A lot of people who buy them assume that's how they live and the fish eventually die early." He shrugged. "Luckily, I didn't know what I was looking for when I first got a tank, so I did my research and decided afterwards that I might as well give them the best life here since I can't return them to the wild."
"That's horrible! People and pet stores shouldn't do that to fish if they can't take care of them properly. Imagine if they were dogs or cats. I bet then they wouldn't feel like fish are replaceable," she cried before looking back at the tank, watching the bubbles made by the aerator as the fish danced around them.
"You're in good hands, fishies," she said as if the fish could understand her.
Looking around some more, Tilly exclaimed, "Oooh, you even have snails and a starfish! What made you want to have an aquarium this big?"
"Well, it was always a dream of mine to see the ocean. The river in the park nearby is nice, but it's not the same," he said as he looked at the fish moving around in their tranquil life. "I had planned to go sailing on the ocean with my brother, Liam, in a ship he would have saved up to buy, but he's…," Rogers let out a sigh, his arms heavy as if he could still feel his brother going cold in his arms. "Either way, the aquarium brings a part of the sea indoors and gives the fish a chance at a better life. It brought me a way to feel responsible to take care of these guys and myself when I was still in rehab and physical therapy."
"I'm sorry to hear about your brother. I'm sure he's in a better place," the blonde mused. "I hope you get to see the big blue someday. I've heard it's dazzling."
The detective nodded, hoping she was right. "Well, it's getting late, Tilly. I'm sure you'd rather sleep now after this long day."
"Mm." She waved goodbye to the marine inhabitants in the tank before following him.
He led her out of his bedroom and into the room left of it in the corridor. The inside of the hardwood floored bedroom was filled with boxes of miscellaneous items in the corner belonging to Rogers and his late brother, a reasonable closet, a bedside table with a lamp on top, and a full sized bed covered in a tarp. Rogers lifted off the sheet and sighed, pulling his hand over his face in frustration. The bed was still covered in Liam's blue cotton blanket and pillow, a last remnant of his brother that he couldn't find himself putting in a box after the funeral.
"I can get you a new pillow and blanket if you like. I still have some extra in the side closet out in the hallway. The floor's a bit dusty, but I can clean that up tomorrow."
Tilly put down her green canvas backpack against the wooden leg of the bed frame and sat herself down on the bed. Shaking her head slightly, she replied, "It's okay. This is better than I could have imagined. Well, if that's alright with you and your brother."
"I don't think Liam would mind and I don't either. Do you need anything else?"
Tilly tucked herself in the bed and asked, "Can you turn off the lights please?"
"Sure."
As soon as he did so and was read to leave the room, Tilly let out a small scream and he turned them back on. Concerned, looking at the frantic woman, Rogers asked, "What happened?!"
She sheepishly answered, her voice still ladened with fear, "I didn't expect it to be so dark. Usually, I'd leave the light on in my boxcar but they were dim light bulbs. I can't do that here."
Rogers's face wrinkled up in confusion. She had been fine the night before sleeping at Henry's on his living room sofa. Then again, he vaguely remembered the lamp lights next to the red couch were left on at her small request as he and Henry talked about what had happened until morning. His face softened. "I think I have a solution for that." He walked over and turned on the bedside lamp. Tilly watched him with interest at his movements and soon enough, he turned off the room lights.
Some time passed. How long? Tilly didn't know. The sound of a clock ticking from the bathroom in the corridor reverberated the silent apartment. She rolled over, hands pressed under the coolness of the pillow, tossing and turning for what felt like the millionth time. Tilly let out a groan. She had tried, really, to go to sleep. The blanket was comfy, the room warm, and herself declared innocent. Even the rain tapping on the window and slightly thudding on the roof overhead was soothing compared to how it used to wake her up in her metal shipping container that she had called her living quarters. So why couldn't she fall asleep despite closing her eyes? Maybe it was the new environment or the questions that kept filling her head, nagging at her like something was different and glaring right at her.
The blonde opened her eyes and lifted one of her arms, reaching out toward the ceiling and staring at the shadow her hand made from the lamp illuminating the room. If I can't sleep , she thought, I might as well see what the detective's up to. Besides the ticking, every once in a while, she also heard some rustling from the detective's room. After sitting up for a minute, firmly steeling herself to move, Tilly threw the blanket off and sauntered out the bedroom. When she was in front of Rogers's door, she rapped her knuckles on the wood.
"Tilly? I didn't wake you, did I?" he responded.
Entering and closing the door behind her, she shook her head, replying, "Couldn't if you tried."
The detective was sitting at the desk, his face wearily resting on his gloved prosthetic hand while his other hand was writing on blank documents. Without looking up, he asked, "Couldn't sleep?"
Putting on a mocking frown, she said, "Nope, although I could say the same about you. Something on your mind to be doing this at a jolly hour?"
Most of the papers surrounding him seemed to be filled out and bits of it had photos taped to them, scribbled with descriptions underneath them to provide context. The box that was originally organized on the desk was emptied of its contents, the files spread into a chaotic mess that could only be sorted by the man himself.
Rogers couldn't stop himself from wrinkling his nose at the mess that lay before him, letting out a sigh as he rubbed his forehead to soothe his stress. He hated this part of the job the most. "The paperwork can't finish itself. I owe it to Weaver to at least get some of it sorted out since he managed to buy me time to get to you earlier. Can't imagine he won't get chewed out by the squad for letting you go at the crime scene and me off the radar, even if you were innocent in the end."
Tilly smiled, thinking about the older gruff detective who seemed capable of killing if it weren't for the fact that he wasn't on the side of justice. "I think Weaver can handle himself far better than they can handle him."
"I guess the tough bastard could," Rogers said amused, continuing to write out his report. "So what do you plan to do after all this is over?"
"Maybe bring my stuff over? Buy my own marmalade? I know how that stuff is worth gold and considering the look on your face, you know it is too. I couldn't do that to you." It was a small truth in the larger picture. Tilly plopped down with her back on his bed, stared up at the ceiling, and answered with a sigh, "I don't know. Usually, I'd scout the town for anything fishy and report back to Weaver for lunch."
He felt like there was a 'but' coming at the end of her sentence. However, she just continued twiddling her thumbs. The air hung still until Tilly let out a nervous laugh. "Never mind, it's just a dream, an impossible one."
Rogers looked up at her, who was trying to be distracted by the fish swimming around in the aquarium, "Any dream is important, even impossible ones. So if you want to share, I'm all ears."
The young woman took a deep breath. "After today, I want to do something else." She spread her arms out on the bed, saying quietly, "Somewhere I won't end up where I don't want to be."
He knew all too well what she meant, the danger of getting arrested always in her tail, especially since during the day when she had brushed too close to it by being at the wrong time and place. Having been on the streets with Liam as a teenager had not bode well for him, always looking out for their own survival rather than what was right, he found himself empathizing with her. He saw what desperation did to people and he could only imagine how one wrong move for survival had led to Weaver roping her into being his informant.
Rogers shoved his pen into the stationary cup on his desk. Having had enough of the paperwork, he stacked the papers into a pile and placed them neatly in the box again. When he put the box on the ground, he noticed the firefly stamped bag that had recently contained beignets in his trash can. With steadfast enthusiasm, he commented, "Tilly, if you're up for it, I think I have an idea where to start."
Questioning his joy that came so suddenly, she asked, "You do?"
"What do you know about that beignet truck that just popped up around the block?"
Tilly gulped. The detective had found powdered sugar on her jacket earlier and she had lied about buying some beignets there. It seemed too suspicious that he'd mention it now. She wondered if he knew or had pieced it together that she was the one who had stolen some bags of beignets when people weren't looking. Trying not to stumble over her words, she quickly responded, "It's delicious and stands out with its yellow."
Noticing her tense posture and apprehension, assuming it was due to her fear of walking into the unknown, Rogers spoke with a softer tone. "It's just an option so it's okay if you decline. I know someone who works there and I'm sure she'd be willing to work with you."
She covered her eyes and told herself that if he had known what she did, he was giving her the chance to right her wrong by working with the person she stole from. Maybe she'd get the chance to explain herself eventually. Tilly sat up, looked at Rogers, and said with a bit more hope, "Okay, but only if it's not inconvenient for you and I can make it up to them for my past thievery."
He gave a nod to her prior indiscretion. "I'll give Sabine a call in the morning then."
She found herself smiling. Tilly had always enjoyed Rogers's company when it came to their weekly chess games they had in the past two months, but she never thought it would come to this. With him, the future felt possible. She started thinking about Weaver, how she'd explain this to him that she no longer wanted to be his informant, how hopefully he'd look past her constant thievery instead of landing her in jail once it was out of the way. "Mmm mmm," she hummed as she patted herself on her cheeks realizing that she was stuck inside her head again.
Hope was a fearful thing, easily gained and snatched when least expected by reality. Still, Tilly believed Weaver was a good man underneath his tough exterior, that he wouldn't do that given their history and how he even seemed nicer in the present times. However, it was moments like these or maybe the sleep talking, but she felt the difference between the two detectives. Weaver gave her marmalade sandwiches, her favorite, and a person to talk to, but it always came at a cost of information or in Rogers's case, betrayal. On the other hand, Rogers did the same thing but without a price. It gave her this overwhelming sense that he really cared about her wellbeing and future if he was helping a stranger, someone even as strange as her, get a step to independence. First as a friend with his trust, then as a roommate in his apartment, and now a potential job to start her own journey one step at a time without indirectly impacting or stealing from anyone. The feeling that she wasn't alone, her loneliness parted for just a moment, and it scared her more than anything.
"Ha, that's not what-" Tilly said with a sob. Tears fell on her knees, blubbery hot tears, one after the next, some felt warm on her cold knee that was exposed due to her ripped tights.
Rogers took a step towards Tilly on his bed, his heart ached seeing her cry, but he stood still as she sobbed, her muttering a "sorry'' in his direction while wiping her eyes and nose with her jacket sleeves. What could he do to make her feel better? His body moved before he could respond. Arms wrapped gently around her into a warm embrace, he rubbed the middle of her back as she got louder in sobs.
"No need to be sorry. Let it all out. It will be okay," he said, trying to soothe her and his nerves that he didn't know what the future held. He had invited her in on an impulse, almost like an instinct to coddle a baby when it cries, and was now ready to even try to get her job when she didn't ask him to. It took her a few minutes for her breathing to slow, but when it did, the blonde hugged back the raven haired detective.
"Thank you for being there for me," she said, relieved, letting go of him.
"No problem. It's my job to protect the public," Rogers said as he scratched the nape of his neck.
Tilly groaned at his obliviousness, ready to give him a sarcastic remark until she saw his expression. He was grinning, clearly proud of himself for still being able to crack one on her.
"What are friends for?" he replied.
She popped off the bed and punched his shoulder. "I'm being serious!" she said, slightly upset but also terribly amused as he rubbed his left shoulder as if she had wounded him beyond repair.
Tilly walked to the door, opening it to show herself out. She looked back at him, Rogers having gone back to his usual demeanor, and said sheepishly, "It means a lot."
He gave a slight wave of acknowledgement and she left his room, closing the door behind her. Rogers waited a minute or two, checking that everything was in order on his desk for the next morning, until it seemed that Tilly didn't need anything else and wouldn't be reappearing again. He stretched with his arms to the ceiling, rocking his head side to side to release the tension in his neck from having sifted over papers for so long.
With a yawn, his muscles relaxed and thinking about the eventful day being finally over, he went out of his bedroom and headed inside the restroom. The clock on the wall showed that it was two in the morning. Rogers mentally shrugged in his head at the thought of showering so late. Despite being an evening showerer, he decided it could wait until morning. Turning on the sink, he filled up a cup with water and wetted his toothbrush. Having put some toothpaste on, the detective brushed his teeth.
His appearance in the mirror told him that he lacked sleep and had probably gained some gray hair after the day, but overall he couldn't stop himself from smiling. He felt damned at his luck. Sure, he hadn't solved the serial murder case but something just clicked in his chest, his mind at ease. The slow repetition of brushing gave him time to reflect or maybe it was the opposite with his thought process slowing down his brushing to automation. Having a roommate, especially Tilly, with her infectious joy when given the chance to be herself, made him feel like everything was right with the world. Rogers didn't know where it would lead with her, but it was clear throughout the day that every fiber of his being felt very protective of his friend, in proving her innocence and making sure she was alright, soothing her in the way he would do if he was in a similar situation. He finished brushing, rinsing his mouth with water. It was so confusing and new, but still comforting to not be alone. To drift off the planet in the same direction , he thought, remembering what she had said when they reconnected.
Tilly, back in her newly designated bedroom, opened her backpack and took out a very worn yet loved plush. She could hear through the walls Rogers getting ready for bed in the restroom. She let out a deep breath as she laid back on the bed in the adjacent room holding the stuffed rabbit close to her chest, turning on her side facing towards the window across the room.
Tilly cycled through the day's chaotic nature in her mind. It had started all wrong, a day same as others. Well, if not for which it should have been at least a little bit sweeter than usual if it had gone as she wanted, with some of her favorite treats and maybe a stroll around the lakefront. Instead, in an attempt to prove her innocence and make the most of an awry situation, it led to her feeling invisible, like she didn't belong and didn't exist when she tried so hard to be a part of the world. Mrs. Lewis hadn't known her since she stole fruit or only bought them once in a while when she had money. Mr. Charles, someone who should have known her since she bought marmalade sandwiches from him, saw her as another customer, just another face who comes in but doesn't make an impression. No one wants to be forgotten, let alone be hunted for a murder, even if I wasn't one in the end, she thought.
As if fate would have it, the day led to many good things as well. Henry had found her in a crowd of people, Rogers had cleared her fears by listening to her, her backpack wasn't lost, and she didn't have to leave Hyperion Heights in the end. The Troll, one of her oldest friends, had seen her all along, making sure she was innocent and not letting her goodbye be in vain. The blonde smiled. She squeezed Mr. Rabbit with glee letting out a small squeal. Her life had been saved from her foolish mistake, as she was too wrapped up in sadness to have noticed the incoming car on the road, by another woman with golden hair and the air of an adventurer. Someone who hadn't seen her as crazy or destitute, gave her lovely advice, and just treated her as if they were long time friends that happened to be passing by. Although she hadn't said her wish aloud for precautionary measures, Tilly was certain that she had been seen, for more than her flaws and all those stereotypes people had about her, more than a passing glance.
"Mr. Rabbit, I guess my birthday wish did come true," Tilly said as she pulled the covers over herself, feeling peaceful and warm as she drifted into sleep.
