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Four years. For four years I've been able to keep my personal life strictly behind closed doors. My doors. I've gone along with the assumptions, just like I've been doing since I joined the force. I've listened to Lennie moan that he's not as young as I am, doesn't have the opportunities that I do to have sex with every young woman we see in Manhattan. Like I can just snap my fingers and women come running. So to speak.
Then last night, man, last night was so.... What the hell was that, anyway? A twist of fate? A shift in the ozone? I'd just gotten home, ten minutes before Lennie was there, buzzing to get in. I'd had a fuck of an evening, on top of a fuck of a week. And that's not fuck in a good way, either. I mean, Barry had just been pushing, and pushing me, until I'd finally broken down and told him the truth. I couldn't take it any longer. So I go to pee, just to get my head on straight, just so I could be The Detective, and not someone who'd just had a fight with his lover. I come out, and Lennie looks like, well, like his eyes can't blink or something. I don't put it together until I'm back home again, and hear Barry's message. My fuck of an evening had turned into a fuck of a night.
Four years, and then some. It's not that I don't trust Lennie, because I do -- with my life. I don't even think that he'd have a hard time with it, if I gave it to him straight (I know, I know, but how else can you say it?). That's not the thing that keeps me silent, and either way, I think silence is what he expects. Hell, it's what I've been doing all along, so why change now?
No, my problem is that if I open up, then we'll be doing the buddy talking thing again, only this time it'll really be about my personal life. Not that I'd mind, but given the particular circumstances of my life as it stands -- it could be... difficult. Because what's the one profession that Lennie loathes? Who's the symbol of that entire profession, in Lennie's mind?
That person is the reason that I fought with Barry. That person has been dancing around my space for months now, sending me vibes that I can't quite figure out. I only know one thing. I'm dying to do just that. To try something, anything. To make a move. How can I do that with Lennie watching?
On to Part Three, Jack's POV by Tobias Charity
Rating: PG
Summary: Green (Briscoe)
Author's Note: 500-word response to Cirocco's "Plain Sight Exception," and a sincere thank you to her for allowing me to do it.
Copyright April, 2003, Cassatt
Lennie keeps staring at me. I catch him, and in that split second, we both know what we're each thinking. I wonder if he'd be surprised by what else, exactly, is going through my head today. Then I wonder if I'd be able to tell that Lennie was surprised. The most he'd do would be to lift his eyebrows.
End.