A/N: Ohhhhhh, last chapter. It's a relief, and yet I'm sorry it's over. But no matter; there's going to be another story after this! So don't think I'll be gone for long. Oh, sure, I might take a short break to write an amusing little diversion I've been wanting to do. But after that, it's back to Rhodes and Bridges! After all, you guys have been so patient, and what kind of author would I be if I didn't appease my readers with a spot of romance? Yes, I do take my tea with a little sugah, thank you very much.
But before I start, I'd like to thank all my reviewers; the ones who reviewed, more specifically. There are quite a lot of you, and I'm not online at the moment, so I can't thank you all by your individual names. But you know who you are! Please believe me when I'm say I'm very grateful for your interest. And a great big thanks goes out to March Hare, my beta reader and good friend. This story wouldn't be the way it is without her help. Thanks, amiga, and I hope you can endure our friendship through my next stories!
Disclaimer: Blah. Go back to an earlier chapter and read its disclaimer.
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A Perfect World
a Sherlock Holmes pastiche
by Wakizashi
Chapter Eleven: And Last
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"I'm glad we decided to take a train," I said happily, staring out the window at a line of maple trees as they swept quickly by. The branches were nearly stripped of their red and orange leaves, and the air outside was no doubt frigid, but the chilly November day seemed quite bright and sunny. Perhaps it only seemed that way from the warmth of the train car.
Sitting at my side, Rhodes pulled his headphones away from his ears. He had been listening to a Celtic CD I forced him to borrow on his Discman, and actually seemed to be enjoying it. "What was that?" he asked.
"I said, I'm glad we took the train, instead of flying to Seattle," I repeated, pausing to take a sip of my Jones soda. Mm, green apple. "It may take longer, but the scenery is to die for."
Rhodes nodded, his green eyes taking in the lush Oregon landscape that passed us by outside the window. "It really is," he replied. "Hard to believe I've never been to the Beaver State. It's quite picturesque. Although I can't say I would enjoy the rain much after a few weeks of torrential downpour," he remarked dryly.
"Well then, you're going to adore Olympia," I told him, chuckling. "As a rule, it's always five degrees colder in the Olympia-Seattle-Tacoma area than it is in Portland. And there are no exceptions to the rule."
"Hmm, lovely," he said, settling back in his seat. He winced slightly as the movement tugged at his wound.
"Still sore?" I asked, though it was more of an observation than a question.
He shrugged. "Not too bad."
If I knew Rhodes, however, he was just saying that to make me feel less guilty. The previous month had been enough torture without the trial, but it had taken an unexpectedly long time for Rhodes to heal. I suspected his slow recovery had something to do with his reluctance to face Thomas Hu again - although he would never admit it.
Still, I doubt his anger toward Hu was as intense as mine the first time I saw him in that courtroom. The second he raised his dark eyes to mine, I had wanted to seize the judge's gavel and beat him into senselessness. Rhodes must have felt the rays of fury emanating from me, for his iron grip on my shoulder quickly left little room for my brutal impulses. The proceedings were held without any untoward incidents or threats on the defendant's life.
This disappointed me greatly. It turned out, however, that this was a good thing. After three stressful weeks, the verdict was finally in: Thomas Hu was to serve two life sentences without bail, for the murder of Martin Chan and the attempted murder of Ethan Rhodes. There is a God, after all.
And yet, as the bailiff dragged my former instructor out of the room, I felt, to my surprise, some of my hatred for him dissolve. Just a *fraction*, mind you, but this miniscule amount of anger was replaced by pity. What's that phrase that people say sometimes? 'Sympathy for the Devil'. Well, Thomas Hu wasn't the original serpent, of course, but I still felt sorry for him: sorry that he couldn't let go of what had happened to him in the past, sorry that he felt the only answer was taking another's life. What a sad mind, indeed.
"Where are we, exactly?" Rhodes suddenly asked, shaking me out of my musings. It was just as well. I really didn't feel like thinking about Hu on such a great day.
I pondered over his question for a moment. "I'd say we're almost to Eugene by now. But it'll still be a while until we get to Olympia, so I suggest you kick back and relax. Enjoy the ride. After all, it won't be too long before our little vacation is over, and we'll have to get back to life as usual - me to my studies, and you to what you do best."
Rhodes smiled and replaced the headphones. It took only a few seconds for his index finger to begin tapping the armrest, and then it was my turn to smile.
As he became immersed in the soothing but catchy music of the Celts, I pulled my original French edition of 'The Count of Monte Cristo' out of my duffel and began to read. I had already read it numerous times, but for some reason I never got tired of it. It was like that one favorite movie that you watched so many times you ended up wearing out the tape, or that old threadbare sweater that was far too comfortable to get rid of.
I probably should have been studying my massage therapy textbook, but I didn't care. I was just happy that I had found a reliable, sane instructor. Needless to say, I had checked her references to death.
I wasn't very far into my book, and in fact Edmond Dantés' harrowing escape from the Châteaux D'If had barely come to fruition when I felt a warm weight on my shoulder. Startled, I whipped my head around to see Rhodes leaning heavily against me, fast asleep. I couldn't help but smile. He had been complaining about sleeplessness ever since the trial, and I had no doubt that our early-morning departure from the San Francisco station had done little to help his predicament. Now, I was glad he had a chance to rest.
A little girl across the aisle began to giggle as Rhodes began to snore softly. I grinned at her and shrugged helplessly, feeling a swell of attachment toward the man who slept so innocently at my side. Come to think of it, I had been experiencing that feeling of affection quite a lot recently.
Looking down at his peaceful face, at his long black eyelashes, I sighed. Over the last couple of months, I had found a true friend. Sure, he had his annoying qualities - like that horrid slouching habit - but his good traits far outweighed the bad. Plus any idiot could see he wasn't ugly. And sure, sometimes when he sat close to me while we watched a movie or discussed a case, and I could smell his cologne, I inexplicably had the sudden urge to edge closer so I could better breathe in the scent.
But we were friends; nothing more. Our relationship was something that I treasured, and I didn't want to risk turning it into something more, for fear of destroying what we had. My absurd little dangerous thoughts of romance would have to go unfulfilled.
Just as that pleasant chill his soft black hair gave me as it brushed against my neck would have to be ignored. Smiling as he murmured something unintelligible in his sleep, I shut my book and settled against him, closing my eyes and resting my head on the top of his. Soon he would wake up, and our moment of intimacy, whether he knew about it or not, would be over. But for now, I could enjoy it while it lasted.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Bridges. Come on, wake up."
*No, not yet,* I thought groggily, burrowing further into the warm heat source I was pillowed against. I was just far too comfortable to move.
"Wake up, Bridges, we're in Olympia."
Okay, that got my attention. Slowly, my eyes fluttered open, and I remembered what - or rather, who - I was leaning against. My head shot up quickly, and Rhodes grinned at me in amusement. *What's so funny?* I thought irritably. It wasn't like I had *planned* on falling asleep on him... well... Shut up. "Sorry," I muttered, looking out the window. Eager to change the subject, I said, "So we're here?"
He nodded, running a thin white hand absently through his hair, which had grown almost past his ears. Lordy, it grew fast. "We're here," he replied.
With a giddy thrill, I looked out the window at the station outside. The sun was slowly falling toward the horizon, but it was easy to tell we were in Olympia; the most underrated state capital in the country. I couldn't wait to see my father, and all my old friends. Although I felt bad that Rhodes had no one else to spend Thanksgiving with, I was still glad he had agreed to come with me to my former hometown. Everyone was dying to meet the man who had saved my reckless hide.
As Rhodes pulled his suitcase out from under his seat, he looked at me thoughtfully. "Do you still consider this place your home?" he asked. No doubt he had planned on keeping his voice casual, but it didn't come out that way.
I knew what he was thinking. He suspected that San Francisco was merely the place where I lived now; that even though he had become a good friend to me, he would never be as important as everything I had in Olympia. It was true that I felt like I was going back to a place that I loved. But it wasn't my home anymore.
I turned away from the window and smiled at Rhodes, who was still awaiting my answer. "Nah," I replied, shaking my head. "It will always be the place where I grew up, but I'm not attached to the city itself. It's the memories that I treasure, and I'll always have those." I grabbed my duffel off the floor. "Like I told you before, kid. I'm not going anywhere. San Francisco's my home now."
Before he could answer, I stood up and tousled his shaggy black hair. "Come on, let's go. We don't want the train to leave the station with us on board." With that I edged past him into the aisle and stepped off the train onto the platform, leaving Rhodes to follow me silently, still absorbing what I had told him.
The second that my foot touched concrete, a familiar voice in the form of an excited squeal reached my ears. "Naddy!!" came the delighted shriek.
I laughed as the petite form of my childhood friend launched herself at me, hugging me with a strength that didn't seem to match her size. "Hey, Alma," I said, squeezing her back. "Long time no see, chica!"
Giggling, Alma pulled back and gave me one of her scrutinizing looks with her dark eyes. "You look like you've lost weight, Naddy," she observed, obviously displeased. "You're not eating healthy down in 'Frisco, are you?"
"Sure I am," I replied defensively. "It's just, with the trial and Rhodes' injury and everything, it's been a little hard on me physically. Speaking of which!" Turning to Rhodes, who was standing with his suitcase at a respectful distance, I grabbed his arm and brought him forward. "Rhodes, meet Alma Dominguez, my partner in crime when we were kids. Alma, this is Ethan Rhodes. He's my *new* partner in crime."
Alma took one look at him, stood on her toes, and gave Rhodes a big, wet kiss on his cheek. I covered my mouth to suppress a laugh. This time his embarrassed blush *wasn't* my imagination. "I don't know who the hell you are," Alma told him matter-of-factly, "but I love you for saving my Nadia."
Unable to think of anything else to say, Rhodes managed a weak, "It's nice to meet you, Miss Dominguez."
At that Alma turned to me, a wicked grin on her bronze face. "Oh-ho, you didn't tell me he had an accent," she remarked, elbowing me in the ribs. "Seems like a nice, fine, upstanding southern gentleman, if I do say so myself. Emphasis on the word 'fine'," she added with a snicker.
Rhodes colored again, and I rolled my eyes. "Forgive my friend, Rhodes," I said with a glare toward Alma. "She has this disease where she speaks whatever's on her mind."
Of course, I could understand Alma's reaction at seeing my partner for the first time. A dapper study in gray and white, Rhodes was over six feet of male resplendence with his expensive suit, Italian shoes, and open collar. His long, billowing overcoat whipped in the cold autumn wind, completing his dashing ensemble and looking very much like he had the first time I had seen him - with slightly longer hair, of course. Briefly I remembered my own comment at first laying eyes on him, and I quickly forgave Alma for her indiscretion.
My partner was obviously aware of the both of us staring at him, because he raised a dark eyebrow expectantly. "Shall we go?" he asked with a politeness I was infinitely grateful for. God knew I would be hearing about this later. "I'm sure your father is anxious to see you again."
"You're right, Rhodes," I said, smiling sweetly at him, while at the same time pinching Alma on the arm. She squeaked, but before she could open her mouth to express her displeasure, I steered her toward her car, which stood at the near end of the parking lot. "Come on, Alma, everyone's waiting for us!" I told her lightheartedly.
We deposited our bags in the trunk of her old Honda Accord, and it was only a short ride to my old house. It was comfortably situated at the corner of the street, and as the car braked to a stop in the driveway, I got a warm, fuzzy feeling when I saw smoke rising from the chimney, as if expecting our arrival. As houses go, it was a tad small; certainly smaller than the farmhouse we had lived in before. But it was quaint and cheerful and filled to the brim with memories - some good and others not so good.
Alma pressed the 'release' button for the trunk, and Rhodes climbed out of the car and retrieved all of our luggage before I could protest. Carrying all that weight had to be a strain on his wound, and I reached out to take my duffel from him. He merely smirked and walked blithely past me up the walk. It was just like him. Glaring angrily at his back, I willed him to trip and fall on his way to the front door, but of course he did no such thing.
Myself sighing at Rhodes' stubbornness, Alma and I followed him to the door. I found it unlocked, and I yanked it open and raced inside, tossing my bag carelessly on the floor. Barely able to contain my excitement, I dashed down the short hallway and into the living room, my eyes at once landing on the man who was my hero, my role model, and my friend.
"Dad!!"
My father, Douglas Bridges, smiled at the sound of my voice. "Hey, princess," he said, beaming. "Good to see you're still in one piece."
Laughing, I knelt by his wheelchair and hugged him, even though I knew he couldn't feel it. After a few moments I stood and embraced Rachel, my father's physical therapist, just as tightly. "How have you guys been since I've been away?" I asked.
"Oh, you know. Same old, same old." Dad drew in a breath after each sentence. "Alma has been calling almost every day. Asking me if you've said anything about moving back. I keep telling her you're staying where you are. She doesn't believe me. Hi, Alma," he added as my two friends filed in behind me.
She grinned impishly. "Hi, Mr. Bridges. Way to rat on me."
My father laughed, and his eyes fell on my other companion. "And is this Ethan Rhodes?"
I nodded. "Yes, I believe it is him. Rhodes, come here and meet my old man." He came forward, and I took his hand and placed it in my father's limp one. "Ethan Rhodes, this is my father, Douglas Bridges."
For a brief moment the two men stared at each other, taking each other in. Suddenly Rhodes brought the full force of a genial smile on my father. "It's very nice to finally meet you, Mr. Bridges," he told him. "Your daughter talks about you constantly."
This caused a grin to spread on Dad's face. "I could say the same thing about you," he replied. "But please, no more of this 'Mr. Bridges' stuff. It's just Doug, all right?"
"All right, Mr. - ah, Doug."
"Mr. Doug! Oh, that's good!" My father laughed again. "Rachel," he said to his therapist, "young Ethan here is the guy who took a bullet for Nadia."
Rachel gasped and put a hand dramatically on her chest. Oh, Lord, here we go again. "No! Really? Oh, well, in that case, Mr. Rhodes, we owe a great deal to you for putting yourself in such danger. If you hadn't been there, our little Nadia..." she trailed off, choking back a sob. *Please,* I thought, suppressing a sigh of irritation. *In the name of all that is holy, Rachel, please don't cry.*
Fortunately she didn't, but a shower of thanks and praise on my partner for saving my life swiftly threatened to waste the rest of the day. I won't lie; it really annoyed me. That's not to say I wasn't infinitely grateful, or that Rhodes didn't deserve it. In truth, I would probably thank him every single day if he had not requested not to make a big deal out of it. But it was my fault it had happened, and every time someone brought it up, it only reminded me than it was because of my acquaintance with Thomas Hu that Rhodes had been shot in the first place.
And now *everyone* was bringing it up.
"Is it true you would have died if the bullet had been any more to the right?" Alma asked.
Rhodes looked slightly self-concious. "Well, I'm not sure about that..."
Now it was my father's turn. "How long were you in the hospital again?"
"Ah, well..." He glanced at me for a moment. "It was around three weeks, give or take a couple of days."
Rachel. "Oh, you poor thing. You were so brave, just stepping right in front of Nadia like that."
That was it. Biting down on my lip to keep from screaming, I walked out of the living room and down the hall, not stopping until I reached my old bedroom. Shutting the door securely behind me, I sat down on my familiar bed, allowing my head to sink down into my hands. Those people were unbelievable!
It wasn't their fault. It was only natural that they would be curious about what had happened, especially since I hadn't told them much. Lately just thinking about it made me feel even more guilty. Sometimes I wondered what would happen if Rhodes had the chance to do it all over again. Would he step in front of the gun a second time?
With a groan, I fell back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. I was probably being childish, even questioning Rhodes' friendship. He was kind and loyal and considerate, and far too good for me.
As if on cue, there was a gentle knock on the door. "Bridges?" came the soft voice. "Can I come in?"
Geez Louise, this was the last thing I needed. Just seeing his face reminded me of his brush with death that had been my fault. But I couldn't avoid him forever, and I certainly didn't want him to think I was angry with him. "Yeah, it's a free country," I replied wearily.
The door slowly opened, and I heard Rhodes enter, closing it behind him. I acknowledged his presence, but continued to stare blankly at the ceiling. "So this is your old room," he commented after a while. "A little sparsely decorated, but nice in its simplicity."
"Thanks," I said in a monotone.
He responded with silence, but after a short pause the bedsprings creaked, and I felt him sit down on the edge of the bed. Waving a hand in front of my face, he noted, "Something is wrong with my Scottish friend."
I sighed. "Your Scottish friend is tired of hearing everyone talk about how you saved her life."
He chuckled at this. "I must admit, it does get a little trying - especially after I specifically requested that you wouldn't make a big deal of it. You've been very faithful to that promise, by the way." He paused. "May I ask why it troubles you?" he said gently.
"You may." I had to smile. Always so polite. I put my hands behind my head, still reluctant to look at him. "It's not that their talking about it annoys me," I said, then blinked. "Well, it's not what annoys me the *most*. It's just, whenever anyone brings it up, it just reminds me why you got yourself shot in the first place. You..." I faltered, to my embarrassment, and tried again. "You got hurt because of me."
"What?" Something in his tone made me meet his face. He looked affronted. "Bridges," he breathed in disbelief. "You're not saying you hold yourself responsible?"
I shrugged minutely. "Why shouldn't I?" I asked. "If I hadn't been there, Hu wouldn't have flipped his lid and pulled on the trigger. You saw how furious he was with me."
There was a silence, during which all I could hear was Rhodes' soft breathing, and the whoosh of a car driving by out in the street. Finally he spoke quietly. "God, Bridges, if I had known you felt this way..." He heaved a sigh. "Nadia, Hu was my suspect. I would have had to confront him whether you were with me or not. It was just coincidence that he was your instructor."
I snorted, interrupting him. "Freaking big coincidence."
"Coincidence, and nothing more," he insisted. "And bringing it up may make you feel guilty, but it shouldn't. Do you want to know why?"
*All right, I'll bite,* I thought. "Sure. Why?"
Rhodes smiled - that charming smile - and said, "Because, my Scottish friend, it reminds *me* of why I did it."
At that moment all my doubts dissolved. I had wanted proof and he had given it to me. Silly that what he thought mattered so much to me, but his words gave me more confirmation than anything else could. I opened my mouth to tell him as much, but before I could speak, he bent down and kissed my forehead lightly.
I lay there, stunned and blushing like a madwoman, as he stood up. "The stuffed bird corpse with all its trimmings will be ready soon," he said airily, turning to open the door. "I daresay I have a lot to be thankful for this year than the cranberry sauce." With that he walked out of my room, whistling a familiar old ditty to himself. In the hallway his whistle turned into a hum, and then he began singing softly in an extremely convincing accent:
"You'll take the high road and I'll take the low road
And I'll be in Scotland before ye
But me and my true love will never meet again
On the bonny, bonny banks of Loch Lomond."
I smiled, still fighting my blush. "You dork."
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A/N: *sits back and cracks knuckles* Wow, I'm actually done. How did you like it? I hoped it lived up to everyone's expectations. Please be brutally honest in your reviews. Oh! Before I go, I promised you all that I would go into a little more detail about the next story. First off, it's going to be another modern version of a Sherlock Holmes story. This time it's going to be a re-write of 'The Adventure of the Dying Detective'. You know what that means. Also, it's going to take place two years after this story; two years and one month to be precise. It's going to be narrated by Bridges again, and yes, there will be plenty of romantic tension. You can obviously see from this last chapter that she's starting to have feelings for our southern sleuth. Tell me what you think about it. Ciao for now!
Wakizashi
tricksparrow@hotmail.com
But before I start, I'd like to thank all my reviewers; the ones who reviewed, more specifically. There are quite a lot of you, and I'm not online at the moment, so I can't thank you all by your individual names. But you know who you are! Please believe me when I'm say I'm very grateful for your interest. And a great big thanks goes out to March Hare, my beta reader and good friend. This story wouldn't be the way it is without her help. Thanks, amiga, and I hope you can endure our friendship through my next stories!
Disclaimer: Blah. Go back to an earlier chapter and read its disclaimer.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A Perfect World
a Sherlock Holmes pastiche
by Wakizashi
Chapter Eleven: And Last
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"I'm glad we decided to take a train," I said happily, staring out the window at a line of maple trees as they swept quickly by. The branches were nearly stripped of their red and orange leaves, and the air outside was no doubt frigid, but the chilly November day seemed quite bright and sunny. Perhaps it only seemed that way from the warmth of the train car.
Sitting at my side, Rhodes pulled his headphones away from his ears. He had been listening to a Celtic CD I forced him to borrow on his Discman, and actually seemed to be enjoying it. "What was that?" he asked.
"I said, I'm glad we took the train, instead of flying to Seattle," I repeated, pausing to take a sip of my Jones soda. Mm, green apple. "It may take longer, but the scenery is to die for."
Rhodes nodded, his green eyes taking in the lush Oregon landscape that passed us by outside the window. "It really is," he replied. "Hard to believe I've never been to the Beaver State. It's quite picturesque. Although I can't say I would enjoy the rain much after a few weeks of torrential downpour," he remarked dryly.
"Well then, you're going to adore Olympia," I told him, chuckling. "As a rule, it's always five degrees colder in the Olympia-Seattle-Tacoma area than it is in Portland. And there are no exceptions to the rule."
"Hmm, lovely," he said, settling back in his seat. He winced slightly as the movement tugged at his wound.
"Still sore?" I asked, though it was more of an observation than a question.
He shrugged. "Not too bad."
If I knew Rhodes, however, he was just saying that to make me feel less guilty. The previous month had been enough torture without the trial, but it had taken an unexpectedly long time for Rhodes to heal. I suspected his slow recovery had something to do with his reluctance to face Thomas Hu again - although he would never admit it.
Still, I doubt his anger toward Hu was as intense as mine the first time I saw him in that courtroom. The second he raised his dark eyes to mine, I had wanted to seize the judge's gavel and beat him into senselessness. Rhodes must have felt the rays of fury emanating from me, for his iron grip on my shoulder quickly left little room for my brutal impulses. The proceedings were held without any untoward incidents or threats on the defendant's life.
This disappointed me greatly. It turned out, however, that this was a good thing. After three stressful weeks, the verdict was finally in: Thomas Hu was to serve two life sentences without bail, for the murder of Martin Chan and the attempted murder of Ethan Rhodes. There is a God, after all.
And yet, as the bailiff dragged my former instructor out of the room, I felt, to my surprise, some of my hatred for him dissolve. Just a *fraction*, mind you, but this miniscule amount of anger was replaced by pity. What's that phrase that people say sometimes? 'Sympathy for the Devil'. Well, Thomas Hu wasn't the original serpent, of course, but I still felt sorry for him: sorry that he couldn't let go of what had happened to him in the past, sorry that he felt the only answer was taking another's life. What a sad mind, indeed.
"Where are we, exactly?" Rhodes suddenly asked, shaking me out of my musings. It was just as well. I really didn't feel like thinking about Hu on such a great day.
I pondered over his question for a moment. "I'd say we're almost to Eugene by now. But it'll still be a while until we get to Olympia, so I suggest you kick back and relax. Enjoy the ride. After all, it won't be too long before our little vacation is over, and we'll have to get back to life as usual - me to my studies, and you to what you do best."
Rhodes smiled and replaced the headphones. It took only a few seconds for his index finger to begin tapping the armrest, and then it was my turn to smile.
As he became immersed in the soothing but catchy music of the Celts, I pulled my original French edition of 'The Count of Monte Cristo' out of my duffel and began to read. I had already read it numerous times, but for some reason I never got tired of it. It was like that one favorite movie that you watched so many times you ended up wearing out the tape, or that old threadbare sweater that was far too comfortable to get rid of.
I probably should have been studying my massage therapy textbook, but I didn't care. I was just happy that I had found a reliable, sane instructor. Needless to say, I had checked her references to death.
I wasn't very far into my book, and in fact Edmond Dantés' harrowing escape from the Châteaux D'If had barely come to fruition when I felt a warm weight on my shoulder. Startled, I whipped my head around to see Rhodes leaning heavily against me, fast asleep. I couldn't help but smile. He had been complaining about sleeplessness ever since the trial, and I had no doubt that our early-morning departure from the San Francisco station had done little to help his predicament. Now, I was glad he had a chance to rest.
A little girl across the aisle began to giggle as Rhodes began to snore softly. I grinned at her and shrugged helplessly, feeling a swell of attachment toward the man who slept so innocently at my side. Come to think of it, I had been experiencing that feeling of affection quite a lot recently.
Looking down at his peaceful face, at his long black eyelashes, I sighed. Over the last couple of months, I had found a true friend. Sure, he had his annoying qualities - like that horrid slouching habit - but his good traits far outweighed the bad. Plus any idiot could see he wasn't ugly. And sure, sometimes when he sat close to me while we watched a movie or discussed a case, and I could smell his cologne, I inexplicably had the sudden urge to edge closer so I could better breathe in the scent.
But we were friends; nothing more. Our relationship was something that I treasured, and I didn't want to risk turning it into something more, for fear of destroying what we had. My absurd little dangerous thoughts of romance would have to go unfulfilled.
Just as that pleasant chill his soft black hair gave me as it brushed against my neck would have to be ignored. Smiling as he murmured something unintelligible in his sleep, I shut my book and settled against him, closing my eyes and resting my head on the top of his. Soon he would wake up, and our moment of intimacy, whether he knew about it or not, would be over. But for now, I could enjoy it while it lasted.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Bridges. Come on, wake up."
*No, not yet,* I thought groggily, burrowing further into the warm heat source I was pillowed against. I was just far too comfortable to move.
"Wake up, Bridges, we're in Olympia."
Okay, that got my attention. Slowly, my eyes fluttered open, and I remembered what - or rather, who - I was leaning against. My head shot up quickly, and Rhodes grinned at me in amusement. *What's so funny?* I thought irritably. It wasn't like I had *planned* on falling asleep on him... well... Shut up. "Sorry," I muttered, looking out the window. Eager to change the subject, I said, "So we're here?"
He nodded, running a thin white hand absently through his hair, which had grown almost past his ears. Lordy, it grew fast. "We're here," he replied.
With a giddy thrill, I looked out the window at the station outside. The sun was slowly falling toward the horizon, but it was easy to tell we were in Olympia; the most underrated state capital in the country. I couldn't wait to see my father, and all my old friends. Although I felt bad that Rhodes had no one else to spend Thanksgiving with, I was still glad he had agreed to come with me to my former hometown. Everyone was dying to meet the man who had saved my reckless hide.
As Rhodes pulled his suitcase out from under his seat, he looked at me thoughtfully. "Do you still consider this place your home?" he asked. No doubt he had planned on keeping his voice casual, but it didn't come out that way.
I knew what he was thinking. He suspected that San Francisco was merely the place where I lived now; that even though he had become a good friend to me, he would never be as important as everything I had in Olympia. It was true that I felt like I was going back to a place that I loved. But it wasn't my home anymore.
I turned away from the window and smiled at Rhodes, who was still awaiting my answer. "Nah," I replied, shaking my head. "It will always be the place where I grew up, but I'm not attached to the city itself. It's the memories that I treasure, and I'll always have those." I grabbed my duffel off the floor. "Like I told you before, kid. I'm not going anywhere. San Francisco's my home now."
Before he could answer, I stood up and tousled his shaggy black hair. "Come on, let's go. We don't want the train to leave the station with us on board." With that I edged past him into the aisle and stepped off the train onto the platform, leaving Rhodes to follow me silently, still absorbing what I had told him.
The second that my foot touched concrete, a familiar voice in the form of an excited squeal reached my ears. "Naddy!!" came the delighted shriek.
I laughed as the petite form of my childhood friend launched herself at me, hugging me with a strength that didn't seem to match her size. "Hey, Alma," I said, squeezing her back. "Long time no see, chica!"
Giggling, Alma pulled back and gave me one of her scrutinizing looks with her dark eyes. "You look like you've lost weight, Naddy," she observed, obviously displeased. "You're not eating healthy down in 'Frisco, are you?"
"Sure I am," I replied defensively. "It's just, with the trial and Rhodes' injury and everything, it's been a little hard on me physically. Speaking of which!" Turning to Rhodes, who was standing with his suitcase at a respectful distance, I grabbed his arm and brought him forward. "Rhodes, meet Alma Dominguez, my partner in crime when we were kids. Alma, this is Ethan Rhodes. He's my *new* partner in crime."
Alma took one look at him, stood on her toes, and gave Rhodes a big, wet kiss on his cheek. I covered my mouth to suppress a laugh. This time his embarrassed blush *wasn't* my imagination. "I don't know who the hell you are," Alma told him matter-of-factly, "but I love you for saving my Nadia."
Unable to think of anything else to say, Rhodes managed a weak, "It's nice to meet you, Miss Dominguez."
At that Alma turned to me, a wicked grin on her bronze face. "Oh-ho, you didn't tell me he had an accent," she remarked, elbowing me in the ribs. "Seems like a nice, fine, upstanding southern gentleman, if I do say so myself. Emphasis on the word 'fine'," she added with a snicker.
Rhodes colored again, and I rolled my eyes. "Forgive my friend, Rhodes," I said with a glare toward Alma. "She has this disease where she speaks whatever's on her mind."
Of course, I could understand Alma's reaction at seeing my partner for the first time. A dapper study in gray and white, Rhodes was over six feet of male resplendence with his expensive suit, Italian shoes, and open collar. His long, billowing overcoat whipped in the cold autumn wind, completing his dashing ensemble and looking very much like he had the first time I had seen him - with slightly longer hair, of course. Briefly I remembered my own comment at first laying eyes on him, and I quickly forgave Alma for her indiscretion.
My partner was obviously aware of the both of us staring at him, because he raised a dark eyebrow expectantly. "Shall we go?" he asked with a politeness I was infinitely grateful for. God knew I would be hearing about this later. "I'm sure your father is anxious to see you again."
"You're right, Rhodes," I said, smiling sweetly at him, while at the same time pinching Alma on the arm. She squeaked, but before she could open her mouth to express her displeasure, I steered her toward her car, which stood at the near end of the parking lot. "Come on, Alma, everyone's waiting for us!" I told her lightheartedly.
We deposited our bags in the trunk of her old Honda Accord, and it was only a short ride to my old house. It was comfortably situated at the corner of the street, and as the car braked to a stop in the driveway, I got a warm, fuzzy feeling when I saw smoke rising from the chimney, as if expecting our arrival. As houses go, it was a tad small; certainly smaller than the farmhouse we had lived in before. But it was quaint and cheerful and filled to the brim with memories - some good and others not so good.
Alma pressed the 'release' button for the trunk, and Rhodes climbed out of the car and retrieved all of our luggage before I could protest. Carrying all that weight had to be a strain on his wound, and I reached out to take my duffel from him. He merely smirked and walked blithely past me up the walk. It was just like him. Glaring angrily at his back, I willed him to trip and fall on his way to the front door, but of course he did no such thing.
Myself sighing at Rhodes' stubbornness, Alma and I followed him to the door. I found it unlocked, and I yanked it open and raced inside, tossing my bag carelessly on the floor. Barely able to contain my excitement, I dashed down the short hallway and into the living room, my eyes at once landing on the man who was my hero, my role model, and my friend.
"Dad!!"
My father, Douglas Bridges, smiled at the sound of my voice. "Hey, princess," he said, beaming. "Good to see you're still in one piece."
Laughing, I knelt by his wheelchair and hugged him, even though I knew he couldn't feel it. After a few moments I stood and embraced Rachel, my father's physical therapist, just as tightly. "How have you guys been since I've been away?" I asked.
"Oh, you know. Same old, same old." Dad drew in a breath after each sentence. "Alma has been calling almost every day. Asking me if you've said anything about moving back. I keep telling her you're staying where you are. She doesn't believe me. Hi, Alma," he added as my two friends filed in behind me.
She grinned impishly. "Hi, Mr. Bridges. Way to rat on me."
My father laughed, and his eyes fell on my other companion. "And is this Ethan Rhodes?"
I nodded. "Yes, I believe it is him. Rhodes, come here and meet my old man." He came forward, and I took his hand and placed it in my father's limp one. "Ethan Rhodes, this is my father, Douglas Bridges."
For a brief moment the two men stared at each other, taking each other in. Suddenly Rhodes brought the full force of a genial smile on my father. "It's very nice to finally meet you, Mr. Bridges," he told him. "Your daughter talks about you constantly."
This caused a grin to spread on Dad's face. "I could say the same thing about you," he replied. "But please, no more of this 'Mr. Bridges' stuff. It's just Doug, all right?"
"All right, Mr. - ah, Doug."
"Mr. Doug! Oh, that's good!" My father laughed again. "Rachel," he said to his therapist, "young Ethan here is the guy who took a bullet for Nadia."
Rachel gasped and put a hand dramatically on her chest. Oh, Lord, here we go again. "No! Really? Oh, well, in that case, Mr. Rhodes, we owe a great deal to you for putting yourself in such danger. If you hadn't been there, our little Nadia..." she trailed off, choking back a sob. *Please,* I thought, suppressing a sigh of irritation. *In the name of all that is holy, Rachel, please don't cry.*
Fortunately she didn't, but a shower of thanks and praise on my partner for saving my life swiftly threatened to waste the rest of the day. I won't lie; it really annoyed me. That's not to say I wasn't infinitely grateful, or that Rhodes didn't deserve it. In truth, I would probably thank him every single day if he had not requested not to make a big deal out of it. But it was my fault it had happened, and every time someone brought it up, it only reminded me than it was because of my acquaintance with Thomas Hu that Rhodes had been shot in the first place.
And now *everyone* was bringing it up.
"Is it true you would have died if the bullet had been any more to the right?" Alma asked.
Rhodes looked slightly self-concious. "Well, I'm not sure about that..."
Now it was my father's turn. "How long were you in the hospital again?"
"Ah, well..." He glanced at me for a moment. "It was around three weeks, give or take a couple of days."
Rachel. "Oh, you poor thing. You were so brave, just stepping right in front of Nadia like that."
That was it. Biting down on my lip to keep from screaming, I walked out of the living room and down the hall, not stopping until I reached my old bedroom. Shutting the door securely behind me, I sat down on my familiar bed, allowing my head to sink down into my hands. Those people were unbelievable!
It wasn't their fault. It was only natural that they would be curious about what had happened, especially since I hadn't told them much. Lately just thinking about it made me feel even more guilty. Sometimes I wondered what would happen if Rhodes had the chance to do it all over again. Would he step in front of the gun a second time?
With a groan, I fell back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. I was probably being childish, even questioning Rhodes' friendship. He was kind and loyal and considerate, and far too good for me.
As if on cue, there was a gentle knock on the door. "Bridges?" came the soft voice. "Can I come in?"
Geez Louise, this was the last thing I needed. Just seeing his face reminded me of his brush with death that had been my fault. But I couldn't avoid him forever, and I certainly didn't want him to think I was angry with him. "Yeah, it's a free country," I replied wearily.
The door slowly opened, and I heard Rhodes enter, closing it behind him. I acknowledged his presence, but continued to stare blankly at the ceiling. "So this is your old room," he commented after a while. "A little sparsely decorated, but nice in its simplicity."
"Thanks," I said in a monotone.
He responded with silence, but after a short pause the bedsprings creaked, and I felt him sit down on the edge of the bed. Waving a hand in front of my face, he noted, "Something is wrong with my Scottish friend."
I sighed. "Your Scottish friend is tired of hearing everyone talk about how you saved her life."
He chuckled at this. "I must admit, it does get a little trying - especially after I specifically requested that you wouldn't make a big deal of it. You've been very faithful to that promise, by the way." He paused. "May I ask why it troubles you?" he said gently.
"You may." I had to smile. Always so polite. I put my hands behind my head, still reluctant to look at him. "It's not that their talking about it annoys me," I said, then blinked. "Well, it's not what annoys me the *most*. It's just, whenever anyone brings it up, it just reminds me why you got yourself shot in the first place. You..." I faltered, to my embarrassment, and tried again. "You got hurt because of me."
"What?" Something in his tone made me meet his face. He looked affronted. "Bridges," he breathed in disbelief. "You're not saying you hold yourself responsible?"
I shrugged minutely. "Why shouldn't I?" I asked. "If I hadn't been there, Hu wouldn't have flipped his lid and pulled on the trigger. You saw how furious he was with me."
There was a silence, during which all I could hear was Rhodes' soft breathing, and the whoosh of a car driving by out in the street. Finally he spoke quietly. "God, Bridges, if I had known you felt this way..." He heaved a sigh. "Nadia, Hu was my suspect. I would have had to confront him whether you were with me or not. It was just coincidence that he was your instructor."
I snorted, interrupting him. "Freaking big coincidence."
"Coincidence, and nothing more," he insisted. "And bringing it up may make you feel guilty, but it shouldn't. Do you want to know why?"
*All right, I'll bite,* I thought. "Sure. Why?"
Rhodes smiled - that charming smile - and said, "Because, my Scottish friend, it reminds *me* of why I did it."
At that moment all my doubts dissolved. I had wanted proof and he had given it to me. Silly that what he thought mattered so much to me, but his words gave me more confirmation than anything else could. I opened my mouth to tell him as much, but before I could speak, he bent down and kissed my forehead lightly.
I lay there, stunned and blushing like a madwoman, as he stood up. "The stuffed bird corpse with all its trimmings will be ready soon," he said airily, turning to open the door. "I daresay I have a lot to be thankful for this year than the cranberry sauce." With that he walked out of my room, whistling a familiar old ditty to himself. In the hallway his whistle turned into a hum, and then he began singing softly in an extremely convincing accent:
"You'll take the high road and I'll take the low road
And I'll be in Scotland before ye
But me and my true love will never meet again
On the bonny, bonny banks of Loch Lomond."
I smiled, still fighting my blush. "You dork."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A/N: *sits back and cracks knuckles* Wow, I'm actually done. How did you like it? I hoped it lived up to everyone's expectations. Please be brutally honest in your reviews. Oh! Before I go, I promised you all that I would go into a little more detail about the next story. First off, it's going to be another modern version of a Sherlock Holmes story. This time it's going to be a re-write of 'The Adventure of the Dying Detective'. You know what that means. Also, it's going to take place two years after this story; two years and one month to be precise. It's going to be narrated by Bridges again, and yes, there will be plenty of romantic tension. You can obviously see from this last chapter that she's starting to have feelings for our southern sleuth. Tell me what you think about it. Ciao for now!
Wakizashi
tricksparrow@hotmail.com
