Ok...so my secret is out...I love me some Horatio 'H' Caine. He has that quiet sex swagger about him.
And without a doubt of all CSI's, the Miami sub is my favorite. I have been waiting patiently for a new season to begin. It seems we will be having a new Medical Examiner coming on soon. I hear it's going to be a man. WHY??? After all, the last two were African American females, or some mix of that. I like Jada Pinkett's chops. I think she fits in well with crime dramas. Now, because I respect her work on Hawthorne, and combined this with her fierce nature depicted in the Matrix:Reloaded, she received top votes on the new Examiner.
On Kent, I love her and I don't think she gets enough time to shine on daytime, so I think she'll crossover nicely. On 50 Cent, he's just fiddy. I love his music and believe his acting chops are top notch for his limited experience. He was perfect for the role I had in mind. I hope you read...I hope you enjoy. But most of all, I hope you keep supporting! --thanks!
CSI Level 3 Day Shift supervisor Horatio 'H' Caine (David Caruso). He is the head of the Miami-Dade crime lab, a former NYPDhomicide detective, a forensic analyst, and former bomb squad officer. Several of his coworkers and subordinates affectionately refer to him as 'H'. He is an outstanding marksman, and does not hesitate to use deadly force when the situation calls for it. He also very often goes to extraordinary lengths to save evidence or a potential victim, and is often seen giving his personal number to victims or their families to call if they need help. His demeanor is serious, direct, and to the point. Horatio appears to have a good sense for how to communicate with children who have just experienced traumatic ordeals, obtaining information from them quickly and gently. Horatio uses the 'stay-calm' approach while comforting victims, killers, etc. Horatio is usually seen wearing a pair of sunglasses. Horatio was briefly married to Eric Delko's late sister, Marisol Delko Caine; the marriage ended when she was murdered by a Mala Noche, a sniper who had it in for H.
Medical Examiner: Dr. Dominga 'Sunny' Aguilar (Jada Pinkett-Smith). She is the day shift medical examiner who has replaced Dr. Tara Price, who was suspended for illegal possession of a legal narcotic (Oxycodone), compromising a case and costing her the career she loved. Sunny transferred from nearby Palm Beach county office where she interned for three years. She's new to the team, she's fresh, and she's hot--a fiery Latina by way of the Dominican Republic-DR, Sunny knows her stuff, working up the ranks and paying her dues, she rode the fast track all the way back to Miami-Dade County Coroners Office. She considers the opportunity to be a return to her roots, where she began her medical career as a registered nurse. She's a single mother of a fifteen year old daughter named Alejandra Sofia-Reye, that lives in the primary custody of her father Miguel Sosa, who is also a descendant from the DR. Although Miguel and Sunny never married, they maintain a healthy friendship and share custody of their daughter.
Pandora 'Pan' Gomez (Kent Masters-King) is a public school educator. She teaches Special Education in the Miami-Dade County Schools and lives at home with her West Indian mother Sydney Chanderpaul. Her deceased father Amarillo Gomez is a descendant of the Republic of Panama. Pandora is the youngest child of nine, and has dreams and aspirations of publishing children's books some day. While working as a summer intern with the Miami-Dade Crime Lab years ago, she met Lieutenant Horatio Caine. The two former lovers share an extremely close bond-one that cannot be explained but also cannot be denied. Although she desires to advance their connection to marriage, even to just living together 'H' finds the demands of his career and the enemies he abounds impede his ability to give her the love and life she deserves. Pan is one of few to truly capture his stoic heart. And although he prides himself on keeping a professional distance their love is never remised when they are in the presence of each other. He believes he can keep her safer behind the scene--in the shadows far better than he ever could in close proximity. She is without a doubt the single most important thing in his life next to the son he learned he had when the child was sixteen.
Glenn 'glenny ray' Taylor (Curtis '50 Cent' Jackson) is a former drug dealer. He is a recent parolee whose luck began to run out when he hit the proverbial wall, serving six years in the federal pen for possession of an illegal narcotic. He's crossed paths with 'H' and several crime units before from as far up the eastern sea board as New York, which was where 'H' originated (in the South Bronx), but Glenn's slippery heels have slid in and out of the grasp of law enforcement only because many of his customers work in law enforcement or have connections to law enforcement-primarily Erik Delco and his late sister Marisol (who was briefly married to H), who died at the hands of a sniper, associated with a cartel that once employed Glenn. He was assumed to be a rehabilitated, until a routine traffic stop and a pound of Afghan ET spelled eighteen months of a five year sentence, plus five years probation. He works several jobs, one in particular as a hi-lo driver at the local Home Depot, which was where he meets the beautiful lamb Pandora, a recent homeowner shopping for paint. He has no idea of who guards this lamb from the shadows. Glenn-a straight up gangster, hard-tough-real, has nothing to prove only to keep his nose clean and stay away from trouble.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
ONE
50 Cent's AYO Technology played to the crowd at Miami Club Vault 305, a converted bank to one of the hottest nightclubs in Miami. The music is thumping. The crowd is mixed. Dancing, grinding, bodies lathered in sweat, signing on to sex. The owner, former Major Leaugue ball player Madeira 'Maestro' Sosanza is away in his native Columbia on holiday. His manager and cousin 'Tito' is loosely covering every corner of the spot. It's 'ladies night' and the balance is off by a few knots but it works well because the deep pocketed men will be spending grams on drinks and private rooms so it's expected that the profits will be on swollen.
Two big black guys, thick bicepts and necks, looking like they bench press Hummers are summoned to a fricassee involving a young woman and two men, one getting his ass whooped, the other doing the ass whooping. Looks as if yet another Deb has been caught out well after curfew.
---
Pan and H could never really be together, definitely not the way she wanted them to be--certainly not the way she dreams it with the house, the kids, the dog named Riley, all tucked perfectly behind the clichéd picket fence. A few years ago when she was an intern in his lab, his excuse to not commit was you're too young to be hitched to an old wagon like me. He always revisited that same old shtick, lathering her in guilt that she could do so much better in her life if she'd just finish her education, live a little more, and not pin herself up with an older man--himself, that would rob of her youth and leave her a hapless young widow. She was young, fresh, impressionable, and very attractive. Her exotic dark hue came from both parents. But she had a dark side, that transfixed her flawless complexion. She wanted to let that side of her out when he wasn't watching-when he'd abandon her questions about the future and what it held for them. A part of her was delicate as a flower, and a part wanted excitement--to be challenged by the extremities of life. Horatio loved her. Her eyes held so much promise. She made him feel alive.
Truth is H lived his work and his personal life suffered indiscriminately as a result of it. He watched far too many of those closest to him fall innocently because of his work, so he made the decision to keep his heart under lock and key, protecting those cherished few that remained in his presence at arm reach. Only one woman aside from the wife who died was allowed to access the mangled mystery of his heart and psyche. But not even H would ever let this be known to his beloved Pan.
On his last words...his pager buzzed--his first love came a calling and he had to leave.
"H mm, I'll call you..."
"Lose my number, just fucking lose my number!" She cursed, angry again. Wash-Rinse-Repeat.
"You don't mean that..." Horatio tried reasoning with that remark sharped on both edges. He knew what it meant.
"Get out!" Pan spat.
His heart was his work, though she always knew it, she tired of envying that, tired of the womancalling and his rushing out in the early morning. When she could steal his time away, it was precious. She was a tuft pillow for his head, a kind ear when he needed a release, and the mind-blowing therapy of their lovemaking, righting the despair of his haunted past. Another female could be out seduced...but how do you steal a man away from his life's mission? This woman she couldn't compete with.
The peace between them rarely lasted for long before a tantrum would erupt, he'd feel guilty again for inciting hope where he knew he shouldn't have. The distance would evoke his return to work, where his leadership over a great group of investigators kept him busy fielding the bay and helping them manage also their intimate lives. H didn't mind the distraction. It helped him focus on something other than Pan, whose passion he could bathe in one minute and curse the next. He loved her, but loving for him was complicated.
H closed the entry door to the home Pan shared with her mother for last 13 years. He was enamored with her, but showing it and claiming it was altogether a whole different thing. He just didn't trust it, didn't believe he was bred to do serve that kind of a master. His lot, he believed was his work where he could serve, protect, and walk away.
She pricked at his nerves, she challenged his capacity to share him self, and like few others he let her in, briefly in short spurts. Pan wanted full access all the time to the man, the mind, and all of the mystery. She always wanted more, made him want more, as she pushed the beauty of what life could be right out in front of him. And for a brief moment he held out some hope, until work called, and there reality resurged.A day supervisor of course, but it didn't matter the hour of the night, when the whistle blew a dark veil descended upon his face-donning his signature DG shades, this dark haunted soul shined magnanimously.
---
He didn't want her to leave the safety of her mother's home. H preferred accessing her there when he needed to without interruption. He wanted her within his sights at all times. She had an established a life, or the one she lived because he advised her to it. But he always kept a close watch on her-like a good neighbor though miles separated them. And as long as she hooked arm and arm with a boy scout, or some computer geek he never worried much. But let's face it, no one was or would ever be good enough for his Pan.
She wanted a home-not just the feeling of it, but the physical space they could share. She wanted to have his babies, red haired, blue-eyed, it didn't matter. She just wanted him, a part of him forever and always. He'd put her off, putting it off fearing the ashes of his labor would find her. He had enemies-perps he helped put away who swore revenge on their jailer. She was safer in the distance. Now that she was done with her education, he couldn't use it as an excuse to hold her back, from wanting them. She loved him, was in love with him and she wanted them together so much that it drew her blood to a boil when he'd bounce from sexy and attentive to cold and distant,when that pager blew.
She hurt him with her words, spewing wretched doubts that he didn't love her. To Horatio, it was well okay if she believed he didn't. If she needed the comforts of her hissy fit to retort her insatiable need to have him closer, so be it. But he was closer, more than she'd ever know or believed--a guardian he was. Protecting her was far more important than any cursed word she swore to him.It would pass. Her temper would thin and in a while return to its static place, where she'd soon come to realize as always that this was the only way. This was his way-as close as he could or would allow himself to love her. Cherishing that kind of love, endeared her to him, giving her the strength to press on, but made her more in love because of it.
TWO
Sunny walked up delicately, her petite feet striking the pavement, medical bag in tow; a tight band grips her silky tresses into a neat ponytail that sways as she walks. Petite but tough she's on the job, this is what she does, and she loves it. Dressed in a light-weight navy denim suit and fuchsia woven silk shell beneath, she's arrived there minutes before H and quickly assesses the alledged crime scene, kneeling a short distance into the wet sand. The body lays contorted, appearing sleep, but death has claimed this Jane Doe. Sunny opens her traveling examiner kit, fastens on her exam gloves and gets straight to work, harnessing evidence and administering to the male officers quite a show, doing simply nothing but working--this is after all her job. She doesn't give them the time of day it'd take to solve this or any other crime. New to the county, attractive and rather spicy to the touch, her feelings are rarely worn on her sleeve. She has something to prove--a lot. The last investigator was young too, too green and simply couldn't cut it. H appreciates her professionalism, lauds her attention to detail. She's now a part of his team. And he looks out for her too. You know he's there, when the deputies begin to actually look like they're working."What have we got Sunny?" Pursing lips, observing the work in progress, H rests both hands onto his waist, making his usual visual once-over. The reddish blond lashes glitter and shine when the sun's light kisses them. The raging humidity has made for the absence of his suit jacket. His slacks are navy, his jacket must be also. His badge clipped to his left side, his SIG Sauer 229 is fastened to the right.
"Hey H." She affectionately calls him. "So far it looks like one of passion. It never ends does it?" She delicately lifts the grudged right hand of her latest specimen who bears indentions on the wrist. It appears that it could be broken considering the way it's twisted in an awkward unnatural manner.Unreal. "The purple and red bruises on her neck, strangled perhaps" And she's barefooted. Theperp brought her hear? Crime took place maybe at home or would connect her to the perp. Dirt under her fingernails, looks like she crawled her way...tough girl, she put up a fight."
"Sunny...what is THAT on her jacket?" H observed a red, green, and gold shimmering piece of jewelry fastened to her lapel, small but visible.
Sunny lifts the muddied lapel, folding it upwards into her plain sight. "Looks like an 'apple'?"
"Teachers...wear apples. Which means somewhere there are some children...waiting."
"Sad. Beautiful girl too, I'll check for any other identifying details. Oh...looks like some sort of marking on her left hand." Vault 305. Sunny describes from her personal inspection witnessing the stamp signature of a well-known club. H sighs deeply, though he doesn't know her, still she touches him close to a place in his heart where he holds one dear.
"Yes...looks like someone loved her too much!"
---
Several months later...
50 Cent's Best Friend
"You need some help ma'am?"
"Tell me, why in the hell do people glue foil wrapping paper on their bathroom walls...dining room walls, bedroom walls..." She trailed off, shaking her head at the disgust, but was finally seeing a ray of sunshine even after the labor was done, wallpaper down, fucked up walls left in it's place. The bathroom was was the worst. She had old original tile she had to make do of. Stucco, was her new best friend.
"I...I really don't know. But I prefer paint myself, easier to changeup. I'm Glenn...how can I help you?"
"Hi Glenn...I didn't mean to ramble. But I have a love affair with wallpaper as you can tell. Anyway...I'm forced to make peace with this funky peach and black tile. Do you think you help me match it with paint?"
"For you Ma, anything..." His eyes memorized the sexy smile fastened to a creamy dark chocolate whip of perfection. glenny ray flashed his mega-watt smile as a deep east coast drawl emoted from between his tightly clinched teeth. Thick muscles were held taut behind a khaki shirt, store patched logo on his left breast. Loose fit, but neatly tailored denims, G-Unit sneakers on his feet. One word--fuckable.
The mutual exchange of pleasantries and an offer to help her to her car, Glenn pitched Pandora several dead lines. Likewise, his ass couldn't paint worth shit. But she was fine, and a good lie is all you need to make a foot cross the ceremonial line. He was paid to help, but his charm won her over. Far too sophisticated for the mud of his murky waters, Pan drew enlightenment by the swagger, the crisply ironed uniform. The perfectly aligned Colgate smile along with the woodsy essence of an unfamiliar cologne gave him promise, likely something still kept discretely in the chem. Lab. He must have been a live test model. Damn! It sure passed. Even if he couldn't distinguish paint tape from masking, by the peeps of his loaded guns he sure could lift her to within kissing distance of the ceiling if and when she wanted him to.
---
This was her first house, and definitely her pride. The tiny starter home pleased her modestly, but yielded a few projects that could help make this her own?officially, the mortgage payments included, which she was still trying to get her head around.
Pan always wanted to be on her own since she was twelve. Between H and her mother's protests, she was determined to spread her wings. Horatio's silence and nose flaring on their last encounter became all the ammo needed for her to dismiss his pansy plea that she stay at home with her mother until she married, instead of pitching her own tent. Pan didn't care and wasn't listening anyhow. He wasn't about to stall her adventure by pouring fear into her veins.
So used to swaying people with his spoken and unspoken words, Horatio overlooked Pan's frequent need to go blindly in the opposite direction from where he pointed her.
THREE
Pan. Horatio looked off and away into the Miami sky. He didn't want to think about her, but she was in his soul, had built herself a home in his heart. This victim reminded him of her. Pan wasn't returning his calls. She'd miraculously distanced herself and he considered it best for her, for them. His first mission her to be happy, even selfishly so. He missed her. They hadn't spoken really in several months now. She tried calling to apologize for the way she reacted to his departure. He accepted her plea, though never acknowledging it, fearing he'd wind up back in the sack again.
He needed to see Pan, know she was ok. No matter how hard he tried to keep the distance, something always drew him near. He could have easily checked the DMV stat and pulled up her current whereabouts from anywhere in the U.S., but he used the visit with Sydney, at her home to pique the background of this guy her youngest child was seeing. Sydney certainly didn't mind at all when he just showed up unannounced. She adored him, believed he could do no harm. If you weren't so mean you could have that wonderful man to love you for all time.
H knew Sydney had a soft spot for him. And he wasn't abhorred to getting the information he knew she was willing to give so freely.
---
50 Cent's 'Like My Style'
"So...are you going to invite me in?" He coursed a strong but soft glare through the peep hole. It was evening. Work concluded for the day. He wasn't dressed much differently than per usual_his DG shades held between his fingers, dark gray suit over a light blue cotton shirt. His eyes peered through the screened sash, still when the door opened and the blaring sounds of hip hop music echoed. H blinked, cocked his head as if insulted by the presence of someone inexplicably relaxed on site. A fox was in the hen house.
"You have company?" He asked graciously.
"I do." Pan folded her arms, assigning her intention to guard the door. He wasn't getting over the threshold no matter how much he charmed her mother. This was her house and he didn't have a search warrant.
"I'd like to see you."
"You see me, now you can go!" She flipped him an icy stare. He couldn't deny the power she wielded.
Pan wasn't excited that Glenn was still there a moment longer than she had wanted him to be. She was tired, finished with playing hostess. He was taking up way too much of her time. Didn't he have work? But H wasn't getting the satisfaction of trumping this deuce. She was content to play content and avoid rolling her eyes to at the loud soundtrack to this video, but ever so glad it muffled this exchange.
H licked his dry lips. It was late and he'd hoped to use the opportunity to steal some of her time away. He pulled a tube of Carmex from his pocket, lifted the cap and applied a thin coating to his lips. Examining the tube a second, he placed it back inside his pocket.
"You have company?"
"Yep! That's what I said!" She signed arrogantly. She could move on, see?
"When do you think you will have time?"
Soon a lighter longer buffer of 50 Cent's 21 Questions wafted low. She knew Glenn would have full access to this exchange now. She heard his footsteps approach, prayed he wouldn't go for brave, not like this, not with H.
But Glenn was no punk bitch. He'd dealt drugs, spent time in the pen, and was on a path to restructuring his set up. His credit was zero and Pandora was the front he needed to access a new life. Now if he could find a single vocation he could stick with, maybe just maybe Pan would see past H and move on, for real this time.
But once a hustler, always a hustler
And now he was staking his claim, making no point to elude the uninvited guest.
"Baby, who is that at the door?"
Baby? Horatio rolled his eyes peering all around and about the small porch before settling them upon her gorgeous face. He wasn't leaving until she gave him a day, some promise to a moment of her time if not now then soon, very soon.
"Sunday..." She knew Glenn would be at work at one of his five jobs. IHOP?
"Sunday it is...well alright then."
---
In three months Glenn had gone from neighborhood friendly Customer Service rep at Home Depot to line cook, barber assistant, desk clerk at Super 8, and auto detailer at Jim Causey. Pan didn't know which way was loose.
But he was a distraction. One with a checkered past that she wasn't fully made aware of, but his territorial stance spoke to her in volumes. She wasn't in the mood, but after some great sex, he'd scramble and leave. Usually that was how it went during the week. She was anal about being up on time. He had work, third shift at the hotel.
"Hmm...yes...oh!" His strong hands gripped her hips, pumping against each other while she rode the thick meaty cock he spiraled up inside of her. Pan couldn't deny it wasn't satisfying if she tried. Her pert brown orbs jiggled, with Glenn devouring one then then the other, amidst a sexy perspiring heat exchanged between them as sweat draped their bodies.
"Yeah...oh...yeah. Right there...right there!" Pan prayed.
"Like that, big dick. Huh...yeah. You like it...say it. Tell me what you want." Glenn was putting it down. Blowing her back out. One trick is all you need, or so he thought. He truly didn't offer much else.
FOUR
50 Cent's Hustler's Ambition
"I don't want dat pasty muthafuckah here when I'm gone!"
"He's just a friend, family friend Glenn, don't trip."
"Then why didn't you introduce me to him then?"
"Fuck...let it go, ok. Don't spoil such a good thing we have." Her puss was still quivering from the pounce he put on it. Her wooden legs could still feel the tension. She wanted to lay there a minute, bask in the glow. In a few minutes he would be gone, hopefully.
"Fuck that Pan, you my woman! Aren't you?" Glenn growled low.
"Damn...let's not do this Glenn." She persisted. This line of questioning only came from H. Glenn was blowing her sex high. Fuck! It was pointless to continue trying to meditate and marinate. He was on some serious ego shit. Unhooking her legs from his body, she motioned as if about to rise from the tucks of his thick arms. He yanked her back to down, firm grip coursing her waist.
"Glenn...Stop playing! Not funny. Shit, you've pissed me off now. Fuck!" She broke from the mock hold, slapped his face hard for good measure. They usually played this rough Dom way. He'd yank her hard, usually away from her housework or cooking, and then whack his thick palm against her plump brown ass. She in return would slap his face a few times. They'd rip each others clothes, and the fucking would commence...usually on the kitchen floor or from wherever the moment hit. That's how they got down.
The fun was over, that shit stung him deeply, on the back of her intrusive visitation earlier. Pan had a small hand but the powerful connection he sensed between her and the chalky intruder brought a tear to his eye. She had unearthed the beast. He was primed for a real fight.
"Bitch!" He flexed.
"What the fuck did you call me?" Pan spun around, checking her ears and observing his mental status. Who was he calling a bitch?"If you ever put your muthafucking hand on me again I swear you gonna be suckin' your food through a fuckin' straw!"
"Excuse me rat bastard, but I don't think so."
"Yeah you better recognize...throw yo ass out that fuckin' window through the bars, AND I'LL CALL THAT PASTY MUTHAFUCKAH AND TELL HIM I DID IT TOO!" Glenn grew angrier the more she challenged his words. It struck fear inside her. He was never disrespectful. No matter how often they debated issues of the social nature, he always was a gentleman. Rugged and hard he might have been, but he was chivalrous and respectful to the ladies always, until he felt emasculated.
Pan held her cool, held her tongue. She could go toe to toe, but she wasn't going there with Glenn. This beast she didn't recognize and wanted it to just go away, quietly. She put a distance on it for safety, dejecting the shower sprays and messing about her hair in the bathroom mirror. It was best she pulled back. Obviously he thought he was more to her. 'Suppose he assumed he was her de facto king . Glenn was nothing but a booty call, glorified. He was a pipe laying fool no doubt. Claimed he could paint, but didn't know a stucco brush from a one-coat roller.
But he knew violence. He was reared in the Bronx Zoo. Her hand lay delicately against this lions tongue, with his fangs sharpened, belly hungry, and ready to take her as his next meal if she moved without thought. Mama taught her never to pull against the closed mouth of a beast; else she could lose an arm, or worse. So Pan laid in wait, until the storm died, when the beast fell asleep and his mouth would open, set her limbs free.
Her signals were dead on. He was the one who tried moving in, one outfit at a time. Nothing ever was spoken about him living there. But he was sure in his absence, the moment he left her crib it'd be on and popping with her and the dark suited suitor strumming a serious Vitamin D deficiency.---
"So was that your man hear the other day?"
"Do you want something to drink?"
"I'm on duty...you going to answer my question?" H pushed.
Glenn was a non-issue now more than ever to Pan when his possessive posture sensed he wanted to own her. Horatio could tell by the docile movement of his Pan, trouble was looming.
"I ran his plates. You did know he was an ex-con, on parole?"
She didn't say anything.
"Pan...?" He called out to her.
"Yes. He told me." She admitted. She knew of some of Glenn's dealings. But about everything, she couldn't really be sure.
"O...k. Well then, did he tell you why he was incarcerated?"
"Drugs...H. This is Miami. Look around." She snapped, moving into the living room and plopping down on the caramel tan faux suede chaise that played well off the olive walls and coordinate tan and olive pieces.
H sighed. She had a violent man with Glenn and here she was posing like he had no right to care and inquire of her well-being. "And what else..."
"What else what?" Pan rolled her eyes. Her lips drew a thin line.
"He is a very dangerous man. I hope he doesn't live here!"
"No..." Anger boiled inside her mouth. She grabbed a random magazine, thumbed it harder than was necessary. She hadn't a clue what was on the pages she fanned through.
"Good." He spoke low, patient as always. Never did he raise his voice. "Keep it that way."
She ceased her mock perusal. "I haven't seen him...not in a couple of days anyway. I don't intend to..."
"Everything ok?" H asked.
"Yes..." She blinked, her eyes trained on him. Gawd she missed him. As much as she wanted to slap him for not being near her the way she wanted him to, she still couldn't escape his guardian-like shoulders that carried the weight of her safety. She rose from her seat abruptly, brushing past him making way back to the kitchen. Retrieving two clear glasses from the cupboard, she commenced to pouring an iced tea with lemon for them both.
He followed her the short distance, placed his shades on the counter. Digging his thumb and fore finger into his tired eyes, he sighed. "I still care about you Pan. And I know I'm not in charge of your life. But you need to be careful. There is an element of his type..."
"What type is that?"
"Hustlers, thugs who swear allegiance to the more sophisticated-educated young women who have something to prove."
"I have something to prove?" She asked in pointed stare. He smirked, drew closer.
"My pager will always be the same. I'm never more than a phone call away."
"H..."
"Babe..." He replied without thought to how he addressed her. Subconciously, she was his. The mask was off.
"You can't always be there...I have my life to live, isn't that what you want from me...of me? Isn't that all you want from me?" He lifted the glass, slowly taking a generous sip from the cold beverage. He didn't know how to care about her without caring too much, or giving her more than a passive impression that she meant the world to him. Pan remembered as the last time he was in her presence played in her head. She wasn't eying a fight. She leaned, gradually against the side of the refrigerator, staring deeply into his face, passed the skin, through the layers--both physical and psychological, unto the depths of his soul. He may never say it. He may never always show it. But the love was real; his presence abound when she needed him most couldn't be dismissed as a simple intrusion if it served to save her life. No fight, no promises, no envy now of his first love--his work."Whenever you need me...babe, I will be there."
THE END