Disclaimer: I do not own City Homicide or its characters.
Thanks to those who take the time to review. I appreciate it.
2.
Jen busied herself in Nick's kitchen, making them something to eat whilst Nick was in the shower. She had found a lot of cookbooks on his kitchen shelf, as well as a plethora of Asian sauces and spices. She remembered him mentioning once that he was partial to Asian flavours.
In the fridge, she found some vegetables, and took some beef out of the freezer, enough to whip up a decent stirfry. While she waited for the meat to defrost in the microwave, she glanced around, taking in the surroundings of Nick's kitchen and living room.
He was definitely renovating, and that was something else she remembered about him – he had always been good with his hands, able to fix things at the drop of a hat.
There were old photographs adorning the shelves, she assumed they were of Nick's family, and the bookshelf was overflowing with titles. There were books to do with natural habitats and wildlife, and books on the Australian outback, as well as some classic novels. She had figured Nick was a reader. When they had lived as Trish and Wesley, he had read the paper religiously every day, from cover to cover, and had often made comments about wishing that he had a decent book to read.
She had ended up finding him a couple of books in an old op shop, and he used to sit up in bed on some nights, reading intently. She smiled at the memory. Some nights, he had driven her crazy with the constant flicking of pages.
Nick had several pictures hanging on the walls, and there were a few surprising pieces around the room – old jugs and urns, porcelain bowls. He seemed to appreciate fine things.
The microwave beeped in readiness, interrupting her thoughts. She removed the meat and began slicing, then threw the lot into a wok, tossing quickly, before adding the vegetables she had prepared.
Nick came out of the bathroom. He had changed into tracksuit pants and an old sweatshirt.
He took in the sight of Jen in his kitchen, standing over a sizzling wok, tossing madly, her back to him.
She was wearing tailored grey pants, with a button up shirt in a medium shade of purple. He loved it when she wore colour, it seemed to set off her green eyes and counter the delicate pallor of her skin. Those big eyes, which dominated her face. They were piercing and so expressive – he could see everything in those deep green pools. And then there was that large beauty spot on the left of her face. He had run his fingers over that cheek, over that blemish, time and time again.
Jen always wore minimal makeup, just a touch of blush on her cheeks, which brought out the rosy hue of her lips. Her blonde hair was shorter than it had been when they were undercover together. It now hung just below her shoulders, cascading across them in layers.
He thought that she was gorgeous. Even as Trish, she had been beautiful, but as Jen, she was absolutely breathtaking.
His body was beginning to respond to the thoughts going through his mind, and Nick knew that he needed to focus on other things.
"Smells great."
She turned and smiled at him, that smile which lit up her entire face. Her whole face smiled at him and he felt slightly weak at the knees of the sight of her, here in his house.
"Oh, I just found whatever I could. Hope stirfry's okay?"
"Perfect." He smiled, touched that she had seemed to remember his penchant for Asian food.
He rummaged around in the fridge and produced a bottle of white wine. He poured two glasses, handing her one. He got two bowls out of the cupboard and laid them on the kitchen bench, while Jen started spooning the stirfry into the bowls. He carried them over to the coffee table in the living area; she followed with the wine glasses.
After having lived as husband and wife for over twelve months, they were completely comfortable in each other's presence, and they moved together in unison, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
After they had finished eating, and had cleared away the dishes, they sat back in Nick's lounge room, drinking their wine. They were seated next to each other on the long leather sofa, both facing each other slightly.
"How do you feel now?" Jen asked quietly.
"I don't know. I know that I had no choice, Jen. But the last thing I wanted to do was shoot him. I didn't even want to bring him in, you know that."
"This case really got to you, didn't it?"
He stared at her intently. "All of those parents...they'd all suffered enough. They suffered at the hands of little pissheads who took everything away from them, and then got off lightly. They were let down by the system, Jen. And William Clegg's wife – now she has to deal with the loss of her husband as well. Ultimately, the crime that took her son's life, also took her husband's. And that's not fair."
Jen sighed quietly. She had never seen him so passionate, so riled up over a case. "But that's the way it goes sometimes, Nick. You and I both know that. We see it all the time."
"Yeah, but..."He stopped, trying to find the words, trying to work out how to tell her the one thing that he had never told any of his colleagues.
She reached across and took his hand, squeezing it tightly. "Nick. What is it?"
They knew a lot about each other, but there were still things that they did not know, personal things, things they hadn't been able to discuss, as Trish and Wesley.
Nick knew that if he was going to tell anyone about his past, his deepest secrets, his desires, his dreams, his tragedies; it would be Jen to whom he confided.
He squeezed her hand back, trying to ignore the feelings of arousal that she set in motion within him.
And then he began his story.