With a heavy sigh, Dean slumped to the familiar couch and finally answered Tara. “It’s complicated. Could I talk you out of a cup of coffee first?”

…he quickly slid the silver-framed snapshot…

Tara quickly disappeared to the kitchen and returned with a cup of coffee for him. When she returned, he quickly slid the silver-framed snapshot of her back onto the end table.

“I’m not thirsty,” Tara said in response to his questioning eyes. Dean felt nervous as he noticed Tara’s eyes following his every move. She could read his actions like a book, like she knew every word he was going to say before he actually said them. Where was she leading him?

He looked into his cup before taking a sip. What am I here for? Was it really that complicated?

“Tara, I did not mean to offend you. I never think before I speak, and my words got the best of me.” Looking in her eyes, he saw her frustration building.

“Stop stalling, tell me what you want! Don’t play games, and if that’s what you’re here to do, there’s the door.” Tara stood up and pointed to the door. Her right hand snapped to her hip, and she glowered at him, furious.

“I’m not playing games. Eager to kick me out? Don’t you even want to hear what I have to say?” the petulance evident in his voice. He stood up grabbing his jacket and waited for Tara to stop him.

She moved to put him between her and the door, defining her boundary. “Just tell me what you want. I’m eager to kick those out who don’t want to be real. You know how I come across, so come back the same way.” She turned away from him, unable to bear looking at him.

Breathing deeply, Tara sat down on the couch and rubbed her forehead. Her hands dropped between her knees, and she looked up at him with a tired expression. “Don’t go. Tell me. What is so complicated?”

Throwing the jacket to the floor,

Throwing the jacket to the floor, Dean moved closer to Tara perched on edge of the couch. “I wish I could undo the last five months. I wish I never hurt you, and I wish to God Almighty I had never joined the ‘Society’. But I did, and you above everyone else knows what happens when your cover is blown. That is why it’s so complicated right now. I’m not even supposed to be here. Paulston will have my ass if he finds out I took the slightest detour on my way to Atlanta. But I had to see you.”

The eyebrow over her left eye arched menacingly. Her tone dropped flat. “You had to see me?” Tara stood up, pushed past Dean and paced in front of the couch. “Why?”

“I wanted to straighten things out with you. I didn’t want to leave and have you think that I was that kind of guy.” Dean stood up and gently grabbed Tara’s arm. “I didn’t want you to think that I wanted to leave you.”

Dean pulled Tara into his embrace and breathed in deeply. Tara relaxed for a moment as she smelled Dean. He smelled like a warm memory, one which had nearly faded away. Tara had cut herself off from the world so much she had forgotten what the memory felt like.

Suddenly, Tara pulled away. “Well, look. I’m glad that you told me. I think it’s time for you to go now.” Tara looked down at the ground to avoid Dean’s eyes.

“Why?” Dean stepped back in front of her seeking her gaze, and her eyes drifted up to his. Why is she kicking me out? Her eyes were so dark, it seemed he could not find her soul. Dean leaned into Tara again and kissed her on the forehead relaxing her spirit. Tara’s eyes warmed up a bit, and he could see just a glimmer of her soul. “Please cooperate with me. Why do you want me to leave?”

Yes, that says it.

“Because with you, Dean, it is always complicated. You are the proverbial drama queen. I like quiet.” She pulled away from him again. “You’ve known that since the day you were assigned to me. Then, that got complicated. You got transferred, and then, we got complicated. Then, you disappeared without so much as a “Kiss my ass”, and I am supposed to be thrilled that you have strolled back into my life as though none of that ever happened?”

Dean had that coming. He came as close to guilt as he could. It was not a very convincing look on him. “So, is it an apology that you want, Tara?”

The flat tone returned. “If you have to ask what I want, you never knew me.” She took deep even breaths as she walked to the door, hoping the hurt would escape with each exhale. She opened the door, still holding the knob, and calmly stated, “Please leave now.”

~~~~~~~~~~

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One single drop of rain slithered down the dirty window pane. Tara watched it clear a path in the grime. She wistfully wondered how many drops it would take to wash away her doldrums. Soon, the grime dissolved in a sheet of water. She sighed, turning away from the window wondering how long it had been.

Soon, the grime dissolved in a sheet of water.

Slumping on the couch, she grabbed her calendar and the remote. She jabbed the buttons without thought, and in about 1.7 seconds Casablanca was quietly filling in the background between the flipping of the day planner’s pages.

Loneliness was a feeling she never easily overcame. The feeling grew with every drop of rain hitting the roof echoing her emptiness. She tried to concentrate on her calendar. Each raindrop took her mind back to another time: When there was happiness, before it all went wrong.

Irritated by the romantic scenes, Tara angrily switched off the television. The last thing she needed to see was romance. The television was mocking her loss. She still was not sure what had gone so wrong. Tara threw herself off the couch. Stomping, she went to the bedroom and flung open the closet door.

She stood in the open door for a moment, anger replaced by wistfulness. Against her better judgment, she knelt to retrieve the box containing her journals. Time slowed to a crawl, and she drew the tattered shoebox onto her lap. A maelstrom of memories swirled in her brain, while her hands seemed to seek in the box on their own.

Against her better judgment, she knelt to retrieve the box containing her journals.

She leaned back against the door jamb, cradling the box in one arm. Her other hand clasped the journal it had sought. She slid down to the floor as the tears fell in concert with the raindrops. In the seconds which passed as she lay on the floor staring through the journal cover, images played in her mind like vignettes of a movie in fast forward.

The doorbell shattered her private screening. Shoving the journal and box back into the closet, she swiped at the tears on her cheeks with the sleeve of her shirt. “Saved by the bell,” she thought wryly, as she answered the door.

…she pursed her mouth into a puckered frown at the muddy footprints…

With the door opened wide, Tara felt as though she had been punched in the stomach. A little more breathlessly than she would have liked, she asked, “What are you doing here?” Without a word he stepped inside and doffed his slicker. Lines drew between Tara’s eyes as she pursed her mouth into a puckered frown at the muddy footprints and droplets of water littering her freshly waxed foyer floor.

It occurred to her she was focusing on the minor details to prevent herself from guessing why, without a word for over six months, he was suddenly here again. “And to think I thought I had been saved by the bell,” she mumbled under her breath.

“What was that?” Dean asked, frowning quizzically.

He brushed raindrops from his curly, black hair, and she flashed back to him stepping out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel for the first time. She managed a melancholy smile. “Oh, nothing. So, what brings you here?” she asked as she closed the door.

…she folded her arms and made no move…

“Well, that wasn’t the reception I was expecting. I though you would be glad to see me.” His flip manner and that damnable crooked smile reminded her of days when she would have been glad to see him. Uncharacteristically, she folded her arms and made no move toward more comfortable surroundings. Her body language screamed, “Answer me.”

The pregnant silence grew heavy. “Whoever breaks first loses,” Tara thought, remembering what her SWAT negotiator father told her years before. Her jaws ached, as she only just realized she was clenching her teeth. She refused to break the silence and chose to stare at his cerulean eyes.

Tara’s mind raced. How did she ever accept him as a favored apprentice? Had he learned nothing? Had her father failed to teach her anything? “I know damn well he tried hard enough. I have the scars to prove it.”

Finally, Dean broke the silence with a laugh, “Still as tough as you were when I was a young rookie…before the student out-mastered the teacher.”

Tara stared back at him blankly. Her mind was still filled with Steve, and she was in no mood for dealing with her arrogant former student. Had she recognized how arrogant and ambitious from the off, maybe she would have been more careful.

Dean realized how callous his comment sounded too late to suck it back into his mouth. He cursed his over-active brain and under-restrained tongue, who had never been in synch. “Shall we get more comfortable?” he tried with a boyish grin, hoping she would warm to his affability.

Once Satan buys a heater, she venomously thought, but instead presented, “I haven’t the time today. For the third time, what brings you here?” Having a different affliction, an over-active mind and an over-restrained tongue, she felt her trembling hands long to reach around his throat.

~~~~~~~~~~

Here begins a story. If you would like to hear more of it, please be generous with stars, likes and comments. If it really bites, hatemail me.

If you missed a portion of the story, visit Story Time to view the other installments. Feel free to suggest a title at any time, either on a post or on Story Time. Thank you for your continued support.

© Red Dwyer 2012
Reblogging of this or any other post on The M3 Blog is expressly forbidden.
Copyright and Privacy Policy available in The Office.