It didn't take me long to heal after that night. Externally, that is. It was the hard rock in the pit of my stomach and the tight clench in my chest that didn't go away though. He thought I was using him. I could taste the bile in the back of my throat every time I thought about that night.
So I put in for my week's vacation, packed up Darla and Connor, and took off for the beach. Some little shack Darla's dad left her when he died a few years back, God rest his soul. Nothing fancy, we brought some padding for sleeping and some picnic food, a few things for the kitchen and that was it. I think we all needed to get away. Away from me and the job, away from Los Angeles, big hulk of a beast that it is.
Connor and I got a chance to talk some, about police academy, about Willow, and I gave him my blessing on both counts. I don't think Connor really believed me, and he sat there gaping at me for a long while... But he did stop looking at me like the sullen teenager he once was. He actually smiled I think before the week was over.
And Darla and I...we took some long walks on the beach, snuggled a little, I made her laugh again, and we started to feel like our old selves. I started to feel like maybe Wes was all a dream.
But it wasn't real, now was it.
Thought I was getting back to reality when I was really just running away from it all. After that little realization, my heart clenched a little tighter and my gut throbbed a little more at night. Wesley. There really wasn't a chance I was going to forget him, was there?
And when I got back I was right back on the beat like always. Never did stop being a beat cop just because I got moved up to detective. Can't stand sitting behind a desk letting other Joes do the work. We're all in this together, so why not get your hands dirty, I always say.
Just so happened a few weeks after I got back I got a little bit closer to Wes than I ever thought I'd be again.
The commissioner wanted to crack down on the speakeasies in town, run out the crime bosses and turn out all the corrupt cops. So we were raiding bars and clubs left and right. Every other night I came home with a bruised shin or a black eye. The men with their drinks didn't go down easy no matter if you had a badge or not. It was a nice distraction, being allowed to punch people every night. Got out my frustrations more than I would have otherwise.
Too bad William Pryce had to be in one of those speakeasies. We arrested him like the rest of the people in the bar, of course. He fought back, of course. And I knew the minute he was back at the station, that one phone call was going to be going to just the man I didn't want to see. Of course.
Current Mood: pessimistic