Part 2: Try and Try Again
A few days later: As Special Agent Williams and I stand on the patio of Rip Van Winkle's, I babble on about how my wife left me while I twirl the wedding ring on my finger. I couldn't even bring myself to tell my best friend Ken about Sandra leaving me, so how come I can tell her? She comforts me and acts like my divorce surprises her, but she already knew about Sandra. I could tell. How did she know? I couldn't even figure out where she came from, yet she takes one glance at me and knows my whole life story. She's something else. I decide to take a stab at figuring out her past.
"So, Agent Williams, what's your dark secret?" I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. For a split second, I watch her eyes become lost in reminiscence. The wall that's behind her eyes is ablaze with sorrow and regret. She breaks off from the moment and puts her guard up again. "I should go. Thanks for dinner, I had a great time." "Natara. . ." She leaves without another word, and I don't have the nerve to stop her. It wouldn't do any good. Well I didn't find out anymore about her, but at least I got my dinner with her.
Attempt #1: "Would you rather go on a date with a monkey, or with Kai?" Natara shoots me a look of disgust from the passenger seat of my car as we drive to a new crime scene. "Definitely a monkey!" I can't help but laugh. "Good choice." Natara laughs too. "Why are you even asking me these dumb 'Would you rather?' questions?" "Kai kept asking me them back at the lab until I punched him. But they can actually be entertaining if you ask the right questions." Natara shakes her head. "Are you actually being influenced by Kai Kalaba?" I turn my attention from the road to her. We've become pretty good friends over the past few weeks, and that makes me happier than I thought it would. She still has that wall, but her eyes are warmer, like she's gotten comfortable around me. But I still haven't achieved my goal. "Don't ever say that sentence again Nat." I say as fake serious as I can. Natara scowls at me. "Please don't call me that. I hate that nickname." I hide my disappointment. "Oh, sorry my bad." Her face softens. "It's alright."
Attempt #2: We're sitting on the roof of my building because the air isn't working very well in my apartment. I watch Natara's face light up as she shovels her Chinese food into her mouth, and I realize she means something special to me. I'm not really sure if it's a crush or if she's meant to become my best friend, but I knew it meant something if I realized this when her face is buried in a cheap white food box. "Oh my god this stuff is amazing!" she mumbles through a mouth filled with chicken. I chuckle softly. "I still can't believe you've never had Chinese takeout." She smiles. "Me either, but it's quickly becoming my favorite food." I look at her quizzically. "You mean Natara Williams isn't listing French cuisine as her top pick anymore?" "French cuisine looks more civilized, I'll file Chinese takeout under Secret Obsessions." She gets a laugh out of me this time. "You should really try the Mongolian Beef sometime, nothing beats it." I advertise. "Maybe another day." she replies as she swallows another bite. "Alright, but you don't know what you're missing Nat." She drops the fork into her box and scowls at me again. It kind of hurts. "I thought I told you not to call me that." I try to defend myself. "Uh, well yeah I know but. . ." Good defense Mal. I finally form a sentence. "Maybe if you told me why you don't like that name, I might remember better not to call you that." She looks out towards the city skyline. Her eyes are lost, deep in thought, like they were the last time I asked about her past. After what seems like an eternity, she refocuses her attention back on me. "It started back in Quantico, when I met Special Agent Shawn Mallory. . ."
Attempt #10: I'm never really sure when I should try again, because I'm afraid of her scowl. Her scowl. I get it when I do stupid things that risk our safety, when I tease her about her and Shawn, when I throw my dreadful sarcasm at her, and whenever I try calling her Nat. I've tried seven times since that night on my roof. Once when we went out to eat after closing a case, two times when we were eating Chinese takeout, two times while we were reading over case files, one time I just shoved it into a sentence when I was talking really fast, and another time after work when it was really late and I thought she might be too tired to notice. But of course she noticed each time and each time I was met with that hurtful, and increasingly more annoyed, scowl. I've debated just sticking "Nat" into every sentence until she gets fed up and gives in. But I feel like that would defeat the purpose of why I set the goal in the first place.
She lets Shawn call her Nat. I don't really understand their relationship. They met. He was her trainer. She was his trainee. He fell for her. She didn't understand. They waited. She still wasn't sure. She took a chance. They were happy, or at least, he was happy. She shot him by accident. He almost died. She fled to San Francisco. He followed. He still loved her. She felt something. And here we are today. I think what she felt was obligation, but I never told her that. She doesn't like people calling her Nat because of what happened between her and Shawn, yet she's back with him. She's trying to fix her damage with the cause of her damage. There's something off about Shawn, but I just tell myself it's because he's basically the complete opposite of me personality wise.
I realize my mind has drifted off when Natara snaps her fingers in front of my face. "Hmm, what?" "You've been staring at the wall for the past ten minutes." I shake my head. "Lost in thought." She goes back to her paperwork "Care to share?" I flash her a cheeky smile. "Not very interesting." She looks up. "Could not have been too bad if you spent ten minutes thinking about it." She can read me like a book. I won't be able to deflect the question. Time to bring out the secret weapon. "You know me Nat, my thoughts aren't interesting." Bam, there's that scowl, right on cue. "God dang it Mal, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me-" I cut her off. "-Nat. Don't call you Nat. I know." She pauses when she hears the dejected tone in my voice. "Then why do you keep trying?" I look her in the eyes. "It slips out sometimes." She looks slightly confused, like she wants to be mad but can't, before going back to her paperwork without another word. I return to my work as well. At least she forgot what she was interrogating me about.