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The chatter bleeds into his ears. Oh, so lovely chatter of little nothings, new year proposals and retrospectives of the old one. He thinks of his answers yet there really is no one he could to talk, so instead he guards them and keeps them for himself.
The chatter brings laughter. A particularly dumb resolution or a sharp comment about something stupid that happened last year. He just stays away and watches from afar, though he wishes he could laugh with them. The chuckles become full blown laughter, and he can’t help a little flinch and the way his hand tenses around his cup.
The music is almost loud enough to drown out the other sounds, almost loud enough so he can enjoy himself, yet it doesn’t quite reach that point. Oh god how much he wishes it was a little louder, even if that would break his ears.
The noises are nothing compared to the sights, though. There was this one couple making out while giggling and smiling as if there was no tomorrow, and he envies them (not that he would ever admit it or of who he wishes to kiss with all his soul). There was this friend group playing on one of the tables, they were drunk out of their ass but it seemed fun, their banter was battling with all of the nights other noises, he entertains that maybe if he didn’t lead the life he lead he could be like them, with them —but he isn’t, so he stays on the pillar of the bar away taking a sip of his sour drink—.
And that woman, dancing, smiling, carefree. His eyes always landed on her for as much as he hated himself for it. She was dancing as if she was the center of the universe, maybe she was the sun and he was stupid enough to believe such person could actually just be a human and not something larger than life. And she was with her friend a hundred thousand of strangers —at least it seemed like that to him, he knew the bar couldn’t house more than thirty people at once and he knew she probably knew all of them—, but at the same time she seemed unreachable, like a god up at Olympus.
Beautiful.
Utterly, most fascinatinly beautiful.
Was the one thought on his mind.
He hated that place, and still…
He wanted to be selfish for a little more and admire the woman he was growing sleepless to. That woman with blood red hair and golden dangerous eyes. That woman that was as dangerous as she was generous, who was as wonderful as much as she was a threat for his sanity. That woman that in that moment —that singular and ephemeral moment— was happier than he had ever seen her be and it was a sight so precious and so rare it made his heart ache. He wanted nothing more than to run to her and take her lips in his and lose himself on her, he could lose his form, his mind, even his name to her and it wouldn’t matter more than the fact that he was loving her in a way that was palpable, in a way that was real.
It took all his willpower to control himself, but the craving sensation grew as did the weight on his chest and the space between his lips —indulging himself imagining her taste, would it be of the alcohol she had been drinking or was it sweet as her smile or did it taste of something otherworldly he couldn’t even beg to comprehend—.
He knows that if were to kiss Lauren Sinclair he would not be able to hold back from doing it again and again. He giggles to himself and a warm feeling gets a hold on him and-
The small smile he had leaves his lips. He shouldn’t be thinking that of her, he shouldn’t even be here.
He leaves the cardboard cup somewhere and goes towards the door. He looks over his shoulder as he puts on his coat. He was an idiot to hope. She wouldn’t even noticed he is leaving. Why would she go after him?
With a shaky breath he opened the door and walked into the night.
…
Kym was out of it. She knew as much when she started dancing with her, yet her tripping and bringing her down with her did nothing more than confirm it to her.
“Lauren! Kym!”
Will ran to pick them up. Lauren was faster, but Kym really did need the help. She collapsed into William and Lauren felt the urge to ask Lukas to take a photo of it (for investigation purposes of course).
“Hey! Don’t fall asleep on me!”
“Will, don’t you know that public displays of intimacy are illegal? I don’t want to arrest you”.
“What is that supposed to mean? KYM, WAKE UP! GODDAMMIT!”
Kym opened one eye and let go of Will for a moment to then fall right back in his arms.
“You smell of pine cones”.
“I’ll take her home”. Will had never had more resolution in his face in his entire life. He also had never worn such a content expression before, could it be because of the woman in his arms?
“I’ll do it”.
"Lauren, it's alright. Take your boyfriend dancing, I haven’t seen him since we finished our drinks, I think he left, when you find him tell him that we had a really great time with him. And tell him that he's more than welcome to hang out with us more”. Will threw her a reassuring smile.
“Yes, you should bring your boyfriend around more, Lauren. Oh, tell him we wish him a Happy New Year’s, you know since he doesn’t have to go to work this week”.
"Kieran left? I didn't notice", but the lieutenant was already too far to hear. “Well, goodbye! Stay safe!” she shouted her farewell.
She had seen Kieran by the end of the bar while dancing, so she headed there hoping she could talk to him.
Everything was so hectic at the moment she didn't find the time to even thank him for helping her on Sakes' case and she wanted to tell him about all she had learned during their visit to the circus and she wanted to ask about the kidnapped children. And she found herself wanting to talk to him, even after everything that has happened.
She wasn't stupid, she knew he was trying to redeem himself after what happened and even apologized, even so she noticed how much it mortified him.
Maybe it was time to finally thank him for everything he had done in these last weeks —and to let him know that she trusts him and that she appreciates all of the effort he has been putting into mending what was left of their partnership—. God, was the itch to talk to him annoying.
Lauren Sinclair looked through the whole bar and couldn't find Kieran.
He had left, she knew, to where or when, she couldn't be sure.
She went to the coat rack, his nowhere to be seen. She took hers and left the bar for the freezing outside. The New Year was always unkind, she was lucky she had a chimney waiting for her back home.
Maybe he was out for some fresh air, but there wasn’t a single soul by the bridge or by the street of the bar (and she had looked twice through the area close to the bar).
Maybe he left a shoe running towards his home because his carriage would be turning to pumpkin by the twelfth ring of the bell, yet the clock had announced the new day long ago.
Lauren truy wanted to know where he was, to know he is alright, to be with him, so she found herself taking a cab to the sixth district.
…
Lauren Sinclair was a fool, a lovestrucked fool. She must have looked like a crazy person looking for a cab at this hour and even more after she told him the direction.
Her breath was visible and it fogged the window of the car. She was rubbing her hands in a vague attempt to keep warm. Her cheeks and her nose had gone rosy. The street was freezing and the lamps’ lights casted the shadows of the frost. If she were to guess tomorrow there would be headlines of this being the coldest night of the year (and the deaths it had brought).
Was Kieran also this cold? Was he before a chimney in his apartment? Was he sleeping under various blankets? She could only hope that was the case. She would have done the same thing had she not been out in the dead of the night, looking for someone that probably didn’t want to be found, and yet… There was something else in her insides that told her that he probably needed finding.
The car stopped a few blocks away and she gave a generous amount of money to the poor driver and started walking. Her limbs were stiff, it was as if she forgot how to walk. Also she didn’t dress for the weather, so she would’ve thanked Kieran if he had warmed up his place. The numbers of the apartments were a slur, only when she got down to the 20’s she slowed her pace.
Apartment 19 was the first to be seen by her, she had her hands deep in her pockets, this Winter was unforgivable.
Apartment 18, a shadow went into an apartment, limping, like a hurt animal going back to it’s hiding hole.
Apartment 17, the shadow went into…
Apartment 16… Kieran’s.
What was she doing?
Lauren Sinclair was a fool.
Cursed, damned, blasted, doomed fool.
Infatuated, enamored, head over heels, star-crossed fool.
And Lauren would be lying if she said she didn’t feel great like that.
But a shadow went into Kieran’s apartment, that was more important than whatever she felt. He could be in danger or hurt.
Without thinking it through she threw herself through the door.
And maybe she should’ve thought about it more since the thing she saw at the mere seconds after entering was Kieran, bloodied, hurt.
His clothes were in rags, torn, blood-soaked. His arms were bruised, not from fighting, from a beating . He had a limp and a cough. He was drenched in sweat. His torso was mangled, fresh injuries mingling with old scars. His face was almost untouched if not for the broken lip and the blodied chin.
He was mutilated , but his face, holy fuck.
Before Lauren there was a defeated, beaten, destroyed man. A husk of who he was.
And he didn’t have the strength to even look surprised or to pretend anger so he said.
“Come on in detective, pardon the mess, I just arrived home”.
“Kieran, holy f-”
He swayed but she was faster and her hands on his arms steadied him in less than a heartbeat.
“Are you ok? How much are you hurting? God… What happened to you? You need to sit down, I’ll help you bandage up".
Kieran could barely walk. He let himself fall onto the chair while Lauren looked for the first-aid kit, but that was more than enough to get a pained groan out of him.
This was a semi-normal occurrence; he should be able to just shrug it off. Yet he felt more than comfortable letting his façade down with Lauren, even if it would just worry her more —he could spare the self-loathing that would bring for later—.
“Can you take off the shirt?”
She said and pulled him out of his thoughts.
“Sorry darling, you’ll have to help me with this one". He said with a most fragile smile.
She help him get out of his shirt and started tending to him. First she cleaned off his blood.
“... because of Lune”.
He seemed way to dazed when she called him so she repeated.
“Yeah, the leader is not a very patient man”.
“So he just gets to torture you just because? It doesn’t even look like you defended yourself”.
“Always the detective”. He try to gave her his usual sly smirk but his tiredness made a wince. “What gave it away the untouched knuckles or the attitude?”
“It doesn’t matter". She crouched in front of him and started wiping the blood of his chin. “Why didn’t you?”
He noticed Lauren was shaking (or maybe his eyes were jumpy). He just wanted to fall to sleep. And lord, he physically needed for the fireplace to be ignited.
Lauren shouldn’t be here, he is being watched, she… could be hurt. If she were to fall into any kind of danger he would never forgive himself even more since he knew he could be the bringer of such pain.
“Creature of habit, I suppose. Come on darling, as if you haven’t seen my back. Or did you thought I got lucky and just fell an absurd amount of times?”
“Why do you let them?” She demanded, she had whipped all of the blood already, but her hands stayed on his chin just to make him look at her in the eyes, eyes that betrayed rage and hurt. “Have you grown accostumed to it? They do not have the right to do that to you. Put up a good fight! You are the Purple Hyacinth, they should fear you, not torture you just because! You shouldn’t let them!" Lauren rose to her full height and grabbed his shoulders violently. Her shouting echoed through the whole place and she wanted to put a bullet right through the skull of whoever did this to him and-
“Putting up a good fight got me most, if not all of my wounds, and, opposite of what you seem to think, I am putting a constant effort in not becoming unrecognizable with scars. Do you think it is nice not being able to even lay down in a stupid bed because my back aches with the consequences of “puting up a good fight”, Lauren?” God, how could she assume like that? Did she not understand that just because he was their favourite attack dog that it wasn’t enough? That nothing would ever be enough to spare him of the cracks of the whips, the cold of the chains and the drummimg pain of the beatings.
Lauren stepped back — probably reminded of that night, he thought — . She left the rags and reached for the bandages. Kieran felt another headache begging to form —as well as a pool of blood beneath him—.
“I’m sorry Lauren, I-”
“No, it is my fault, I shouldn’t have pushed. I’m sorry".
She was an idiot with a ungovernable tongue who never learnt to correct it. He looked at her as if he was pleading. He opened his mouth only for Lauren to be quicker than him.
“Really, it’s my fault, Kieran".
“Still, I shouldn’t have-”
“Shut up". She softened her gaze on him. “It doesn’t matter anymore. It is my fault, don’t insist. Let me finnish your bandages before you bleed out on your nice table, subordinate". And then she gave him a gentle smile.
They were quiet, interrupted by the occasional groan of pain from him and the quiet apologies of her. Kieran felt like his head was splitting into three, one part was from pain, the other from exhaustion and the last from the way her hands traveled against him. Her hands moved quickly and methodically sparing him from any more pain, but confidently with a trust that should’ve been lost eons ago and with a trust he’s been desperate to build back up, and her hands moved kindly, far more kindly than he deserved. But the feeling was so soothing and ghostly, his eyelids became heavy and his breathing easy. He was falling asleep on her. His head was falling on her shoulders and her warmth was more than inviting for him to fall on her.
Lauren wasn’t going to say anything. Gods knew how much they needed sleep.
“Lauren?”
“Yes”. She answered while finishing the bandages. Thankfully he wasn’t beaten that badly and didn’t need more than a couple of hours of rest —she was still going to send him to his doctor when he felt better—.
“Could you light the fireplace? I feel like an icicle”.
“Alright. Come with me”.
And so she grabbed him and led him to the couch near the fireplace and looked for everything to light it. She struggled for a while which seemed to amuse Kieran.
“Good to see you in the mood to laugh at me, subordinate”.
“Always, darling, but do hurry up, I don’t think you would make a nice snowman”.
Lauren chuckled and finally was able to light the fire. Then, she sat near Kieran basking in the warmth. She was aching and desperate to ask, to prode, to interrogate, to thank, to talk, yet she had already hurt and she would cause that hurt again, so she stayed quiet and observant of Kieran’s every action hoping she catched the right thing to say.
Kieran was scared. Scared of being found like this. Scared of being taken care of. Scared of what could happen to Lauren. Scared of why she even was there. Scared of waking up back on that church floor. Scared of waking up to this dream and finding out if Lauren truly cares or if this was another deceitful trick his mind conjured. He is so afraid.
And his shaking hands betrayed him. And his avoidant eyes betrayed him. And his tense jaw and clenching teeth betrayed that. And his shaky exhale betrayed him. And he betrayed himself because he wanted Lauren to know and to try —for as wretched as he was—.
“How… How are you feeling, Kieran?”
“I’m alright”. He couldn’t even look at her.
She got closer, dangerously close. “Alright is not a feeling, White”. Her tone carried sweet to counterattack the bitter of her words.
“I don’t know. I… I’m afraid and angry and tired”.
She was trying every single phrase she knew of and every combination of words yet if even one of them was the right thing to say it didn’t dare to leave her mouth, how could she even answer such a defeated confession.
“You?”
She barely registered the question directed at her and when she did she angered. How dare he treat this with such detatchment? After offering her a piece into his real emotions, into the real Kieran, the man that was riddled with scars and suffering, the man that wanted a peaceful life but that has to fight every single day to be able to get it. She wasn’t angry at him —how could she be angry at him? He didn’t ask for this kind of life— so she took a deep breath and let the irrationality seep through her exhale.
“I’m also really tired, maybe a little tipsy, more than anything I am freezing”.
“Last time I check freezing wasn’t an emotion, darling”. He grinned at her.
“Then I am uncomfortably cold”. The Kieran of the sly remarks was as much of a part of him as were the scars and she would take him as such, so she played along.
“How did you even get here? Did you run through this weather to come see me, officer?” He raised his eyebrows at Lauren and she was tempted to throw a pillow to shut him up.
“I took a cab here and still almost ended like an icicle”. She huffed.
“Didn’t know you were so desperate to have drinks with me, mon amour ”.
“I just wanted to know if maybe being drunk made you less annoying, guess I’ll never know”.
“Oh, I can assure a couple drinks make me even more insufferable”.
“I’m starting to think that that is true, how many drinks did you have at the bar, Mr. White?”
“If you think this is me drunk you are really going to hate me when you really meet me real drunk”.
“We will never know now, unless you let me take you out for drinks another day”. She smirked.
“Wow, detective”. He returned the smile. “I think the alcohol loosens you up, not that I mind”.
“Maybe or maybe I want to thank you”.
“Thank me for what, love?”
“For helping me and I am being serious with this so do not interrupt me”. Lauren threw her softest gaze his way and she saw how the tension that was building in his frame left as quickly as it arrived. “Without your help I wouldn’t have been able to reopen Chow’s case. It has brightened a really awful week for me and that and everything the case is means more to me than you can imagine. So thank you, Kieran”.
Kieran looks Lauren in the eyes in the first time in a long time and more importantly he does so without any kind of guilt or remorse behind his eyes. The blue of his eyes swirled at the sheer authenticity of the gold in front of them. The gold —no man could ever hope to see— was no different from the lit chimney and the blazing wood that fed it and if Kieran were to choose between them, Lauren’s gold would always come first.
“I…” The icy undertone in his eyes melted away and the frost that hid his smile fell to the ground. “Any time, Lauren”.
They fell into comfortable silence but the ocean was never so quiet, yet if Kieran wanted to say something he would say it in it’s due time. Lauren didn’t notice the hand he was trying to sneak towards her.
“I’m sorry for leaving without warning… Didn’t know you wanted to talk”.
“We got to talk anyway”. God, her smug looks were going to be the end of him. “I was going to throw you into a drinking game so you saved yourself there, subordinate”.
“You really want to get me drunk, detective!” He chuckled.
“You know, both Kym and Will asked me to wish you a happy New Year and to bring you around more, so I'm not the only one that wants to get you drunk”. She smirked but it dissappeared when she noticed the frost back in his form.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why would they invite me? I mean they're not my friends, barely my coworkers…”
“Is that why you left the party?”
A chill entered through the window and he moved to close it, giving his back to Lauren.
“I gave you my word Lauren, I won’t get involved with them-”
“You didn't have to go because of me”.
She stood before him. Blazing, angry, hot. She took his hand. With her free hand she took his chin and cradled it so that the vast sea could see the sun rising (he wouldn't have looked at her hadn't she done that).
“I trust your word, I know you won't hurt them. I trust you, Kieran”.
Lauren wasn’t thinking, but this time she didn’t condemn herself for it; not when she would stop herself from saying something that he needed to hear, and if she was a fool for it, then let her die as one too.
And he smiled and Lauren didn’t need of her ability to tell that it was honest.
“I’ll take you are staying the night?”
“Yes”.
Even after all the hassle of coming here for him, even after all of the missteps she had, she was glad that she did, she was glad that she came to find him, she was glad they could talk, she was glad to help him, she was glad to trust him.
The winds were thrashing outside the windows but in their little shelter they could rest their heads. It was their intimate santactuary, away from prying eyes, away from malicious men, away from regret, away from all else that existed.
Without need for words, they both knew they loved.