Title: To the Other Side
Author: Sarken (sarken@gmail.com)
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Yeah, because it's so easy to think I write the show...
Author's Note: I found the beginning of this is my notebook, and decided to finish it to protest this Marriage Protection Week crap. It follows the fourth season episode 10-13. Title stolen from Tori Amos' "Cornflake Girl" since I seem to have an obsession with that song right now.
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As I squeezed the trigger, I thought about how easy it would have been to miss, to shoot her instead of her attacker. It was so easy that I could taste her blood when I heard my weapon fire.
Two hours later, I was rinsing the metallic taste of my imagination from my mouth. I sat at the bar, ordering drink after drink in hopes of drowning my dark side. The liquid was only around its ankles when she came and sat beside me.
I refused to look at her or acknowledge her presence, but it could be that I gave her the ultimate acknowledgment by standing and heading for the bathroom. I felt too guilty to be near her -- so guilty that I looked at my hands and, for a second, saw red. I approached the sink and turned on the water, lathering my hands up with soap the colour of Pepto Bismol.
"Yokas." Her voice, rough and loud, drowned out the sound of running water. "You should have shot me. I wouldn't think twice about shooting you."
I turned off the water, but I didn't turn to face her. I watched her in the mirror, studying her. I was almost waiting for her to push her jacket aside and pull a gun. I dried my hands on my jeans, trying to push that thought away. "Well, that's where we're different."
"Not that different." She stepped forward, placing her hands on the sink. Her neatly manicured fingernails tapped against the porcelain once. She studied me in the mirror, just the same as I was doing to her. "You, me, Boscorelli...we all want the same things. We all want to stop the bad guys... We all want each other. We just have different ways of getting what we want."
I laughed, too quickly and too loudly. "You think I want you?"
"Oh, I know it," she said, meeting my reflection's eyes. "That's why you want to kill me. If you can't have me..." Her tan hand slid across the white sink and came to rest on mine. "Tell me I'm wrong."
She traced circles on my hand and I began to feel it between my thighs. It felt good and I found myself completely incapable of saying she was wrong.
The mirror showed the satisfied smirk she wore. "You can't do it because you hate lies. It's okay, though, babe." She turned to face me and her hand glided up my arm. "No one else needs to know, not if you don't want them to. We'll just keep it between us and these walls."
It wasn't until she had my shirt draped on one of the sinks and the cool air was hitting my back that I realized I was halfway to being Bosco. She was getting to me; if she was any good, she would have me wrapped around her little finger. I realized it, but I didn't care because her hands felt so good on my breasts. She was rough, more like Bosco than Fred. Perhaps this was just what I needed: a cop, not a civilian.
She knelt and pushed my jeans and underwear down around my ankles. Her hands went back to my hips, pressing me against the sink and holding me there. Goosebumps appeared on my arms, although I wasn't sure if it was because the porcelain was cold or her mouth was hot.
Then her fingers were in me and there was a supernova behind my eyes as I called Bosco's name.
When I opened my eyes, she was standing, her fingers in her mouth as she sucked them clean. Around those fingers, she said, "He's in the car. We'll wait for you."
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