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This is solely for entertainment and not for resale, and I do not own the original character's work, as it belongs to those who created the Rookie.
The flickering neon sign of the "Double Nickel" diner hummed outside, casting a sickly yellow glow across the checkered linoleum floor. Inside, the air hung thick with the smell of stale coffee and frying grease, a familiar comfort to John Nolan. He sat alone in a booth, the remnants of a half-eaten burger growing cold in front of him. It had been a week since… since Rosalind. A week since Bailey.
The weight of it pressed down on him, a suffocating blanket woven from guilt, grief, and disbelief. He hadn't slept properly, hadn't felt anything beyond a dull, aching numbness. The world felt muted, the vibrant colors faded to shades of gray.
He felt a presence before he saw her. A warmth, a subtle energy that cut through the fog. He looked up. Celina Suarez stood hesitantly beside the booth, her brow furrowed with concern.
"Nolan," she said softly, her voice barely audible above the clatter of dishes. "You okay? You haven't been answering your phone."
He managed a weak, humorless smile. "Define 'okay'."
Celina slid into the booth across from him, her eyes never leaving his. There was no pity in them, only a deep, unwavering empathy that made him ache all the more.
"I know I can't understand what you're going through," she began, folding her hands on the table. "But I know loss. And I know sometimes… sometimes just being present is enough."
He appreciated her honesty. He didn't need platitudes, didn't need someone telling him it would all be alright. He needed someone who acknowledged the pain, who sat with him in the darkness without trying to drag him out.
They sat in silence for a long time, the only sound the rhythmic hiss of the espresso machine. Celina didn't try to fill the void with conversation. She simply was. Her presence was a quiet anchor in the storm raging inside him.
Finally, Nolan spoke, his voice raspy. "I keep replaying it. Every moment. Wondering what I could have done differently."
Celina reached across the table, her hand covering his. Her touch was firm, grounding. "You did everything you could, Nolan. You are a good man, a good cop. Don't let her take that from you too."
Her words, simple as they were, struck a chord within him. He looked at her, really looked at her. He saw the unwavering strength in her eyes, the quiet determination that he'd always admired. He remembered her unwavering commitment to justice, her intuitive understanding of people, her unique way of seeing the world.
In the days that followed, Celina became a constant in his life. She didn't smother him, didn't force him to talk. She simply showed up. She brought him coffee in the morning, walked with him in silence during his lunch break, and sometimes, like tonight, sat with him in the diner, offering a quiet presence and a listening ear.
One evening, they were driving home after a particularly grueling shift. The city lights blurred through the rain-streaked windshield. "I'm going after her, Celina," Nolan said, his voice resolute. "Rosalind. I'm going to bring her to justice."
Celina didn't flinch. "I know you are. And I'll be right there with you."
Together, they began to piece together the fragments of Rosalind's twisted plan, poring over old case files, interviewing witnesses, and following the faintest of leads. Working alongside Celina, Nolan found a focus, a purpose that helped him push back against the despair that threatened to engulf him.
He noticed the way she anticipated his needs, the way she understood his silences, the way she challenged him to think outside the box. He appreciated her sharp wit, her unwavering integrity, her genuine compassion.
One night, after finally cracking a crucial piece of the puzzle, they found themselves celebrating at a quiet bar. The adrenaline had worn off, leaving them both exhausted but exhilarated. As they talked, Nolan realized he was laughing, genuinely laughing, for the first time in weeks.
He looked at Celina, the soft lighting catching the highlights in her dark hair. He saw not just a partner, not just a friend, but something more. A connection, a shared understanding that went beyond words. He saw a woman who was strong, intelligent, and fiercely independent, yet also vulnerable and deeply empathetic.
He knew it was too soon. He knew he was still grieving. But he couldn't deny the spark, the undeniable pull he felt towards her.
He cleared his throat. "Celina," he said, his voice hesitant. "I… I want to thank you. For everything."
Celina smiled, a warm, genuine smile that reached her eyes. "You don't have to, Nolan. We're partners. We're supposed to look out for each other."
He leaned forward, his eyes searching hers. "It's more than that, Celina. You've… you've helped me find a way to breathe again."
He reached for her hand, his fingers brushing against hers. He could feel the electricity, the unspoken connection that crackled between them.
He didn't know what the future held. He didn't know if he was ready for a new relationship. But in that moment, looking into Celina's eyes, he felt a flicker of hope, a glimmer of light in the darkness. From the ashes of his devastating loss, a fragile spark had ignited. Whether it would grow into a flame, only time would tell. But for the first time in a long time, John Nolan felt a glimmer of hope. He wasn't sure if it was love, but it was something. And right now, something was enough. He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back. They sat in silence, a comfortable, hopeful silence, knowing they were in this together, whatever "this" might become. Their journey was just beginning.