A/N: Written pre-horrible wife scenario, for Emily's 17th. Touched up now, and posted. As ever, reviews are appreciated.
Disclaimer: All I own is the dvds. Wouldn't say no to owning me some Warrick though.
Plans
That day, in the sewers, I fell into his arms. I fell into his arms and never wanted to leave them.They're strong arms. Strong enough to hold me up, smelling like God-knows-what, and secure enough to know that whatever happens the memory of us will remain.
I can't believe I'm actually thinking like this. I'm a scientist not some cliché of a poet. I have a daughter. I have huge pressures at work. And I'm falling in love.
It's a strange thing, love. It sneaks up on you. You don't even realise. Then, it comes on you in a moment like that. And you want to scream and throw things because it wasn't in your plans.
I like my plans.
He let go of me after that devastating moment. And we pretended it didn't happen. It's so easy to pretend.
I love work. I know it probably completely screws me up but, hell, being a dancer for sleazy nightclubs does that too. And I know which job I prefer.
I'd actually seen Warrick a couple of times. Back in the day. He was the black kid, playing the money machines. Winning some, losing some. I'd watch him from afar and think, poor kid. Then, years later, I see him again. I work with him. I never tell him that I know about the gambling, the irresistible demons of the slot machines and card tables. I never say that I knew him when…
I love work. Because I love working with him.
Greg knows that my stuff gets processed first.
"Catherine, looking tired and worn as usual," he says, flashing me a smile that is far too bright and cheerful for this time in the morning.
"Thank you," I reply. "Such a charmer."
"Only for you baby," he grins.
"Daring to speak of your lust?" I love talking to Greg. He reminds me that there are people who aren't undeniably cynical and twisted in the world.
"Lust? My love is pure." He looks at me, affronted.
"I'd be more willing to believe that if I hadn't just seen you fetch coffee for Sara."
"The ladies love me."
"Whatever you say. Anyway, I need this analysed. Warrick and I are off collecting."
"You're the top of my list," he replies taking the samples and filing them carefully. "How's it going with you too anyway?"
"We're friends, Greg."
"Sure you are." He winks.
"Don't mind me. Just carry on with your delusions."
"Cath?" Warrick puts his head around the door. "You coming?"
Greg pulls a face at me as I follow Warrick out the doors.
"What's Greg been saying this time?" He asks, as I drive us through the streets of Vegas.
"Just the usual. I think he fancies himself as the matchmaker." I laugh, but it seems somehow forced.
"He was trying to pin me to you the other day," Warrick says, grinning. I can never resist a smile.
"Would that be so terrible?" I ask flippantly.
"No, of course not," he says, eyes focused out the side window.
I find a parking spot and we jump out. Warrick comes around to my side as I'm getting out. And I don't know what happens exactly but I fall again.
And he catches me.
"Steady on," he says softly. He doesn't let go.
I breathe in his smell. Sweat, chemicals and men's cologne. The smell I've always placed with Warrick. "Would it be so terrible?" I ask again.
His eyes, dark and soft, meet mine. "Never."
I could fix my plans around him.