A/N: All right, I couldn't wait to start the next Rhodes-Bridges story. I'm just too impatient! After all, I have plenty of time to write that other dealie I've been planning. All righty, to all those who are new to my works, I am Wakizashi and I write mystery fanfictions based on the novels and short stories about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's famous detective, Sherlock Holmes. As a modern Watson I have created one Nadia Bridges to chronicle the stories: a young massage therapist from Olympia, Washington with a cynical streak in her. In place of the Great Detective™ himself, may I present to you Ethan Nicholas Rhodes, a dashing young sleuth with a Southern accent and an unwillingness to overcome his tragic past. The first story in the series was entitled 'A Perfect World', and it was based on the first Sherlock Holmes story, 'A Study in Scarlet'. With me so far?
Okay, well, this latest story is once again a re-write of Conan Doyle's work; this time a modern version of 'The Dying Detective'. It is set a little over two years after the last events in the first story, and by this time Nadia is having a hard time suppressing romantic feelings for her partner and now closest friend. And for everyone who read my first story and for some reason actually liked Special Agent Edward Solomon, he's back, too. So let's begin, shall we?
Disclaimer: Though all the characters technically belong to me, the person responsible for the whole plot in the first place is Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, whom we would be lost without.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Down the Rabbit Hole
a modern Sherlock Holmes fanfiction
by Wakizashi
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Chapter One: Nadia in Wonderland
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
This really didn't make sense, I had to admit. It was eight o'clock at night, far past normal business hours at the massage clinic where I worked, and here I was entering appointments into the computer at the front desk. Um, hello, I wasn't the secretary around here! This was Stephanie's job! What was I doing here so late, and why would I be filling in for someone I didn't really know? Where in heaven's name was that girl?
I sighed in defeat. What did it matter, anyway? If I wasn't working, I would probably be off somewhere with my dear, insufferable friend Ethan Rhodes - most likely reading the newspapers for any interesting crimes, or just lounging around watching TV. Aside from solving cases, we really didn't do that much, now that I thought about it.
My mind drifting once again, I looked outside the front windows of the waiting room. It was dark, but there were still people walking briskly up and down the street, even in the freezing weather. It was amazing, how long people waited to get their Christmas shopping done. Luckily for me, I had fulfilled that duty weeks in advance. All I had to worry about was if my loved ones liked the presents I had gotten for them.
Somehow, I knew Rhodes would like his.
The phone on the receptionist's desk suddenly rang, making me jump. Why would anyone call here so late? Our doors closed at five. How could anyone know I was there? I thought of all the people I had had a hand in locking away over the past two years. One of them couldn't have tracked me down, could they?
Warily, I picked up the handset and held it to my ear. "Bay Area Massage Clinic, how can I help you?" I said, straining to keep my voice neutral.
A soft, raspy voice on the other end spoke. "What are you doing?" it asked.
My hackles rose instantly. "Who is this?" I demanded.
"Oh, you know. Not anyone special." The voice was so soft and indistinct, I couldn't even tell if it was male or female. Something insidious about it made me suspect it was a man.
"You know, I've been watching you, Nadia," the voice continued. "I must say, you're a very beautiful woman. And your voice is just as pleasing to the senses." My heart leapt into my throat at this. He knew my name? How long had he been watching me? *Oh God, Rhodes, where are you when I need you?* I thought frantically.
"Who are you?" I asked, fighting the urge to panic. It wasn't working. "What do you want from me?"
"I'm coming to you, Nadia. I'm coming right now." I choked back a sob of terror, my eyes desperately scanning the windows. But the door to the waiting room was solid wood, and anyone could be behind it. "Don't go anywhere, Nadia. Just stay right there."
To my horror, the knob moved. Oh God, he really was out there. It was an old office, and the lock had never been changed. It would only be a matter of minutes, even less that a minute, for a reasonably skilled person to pick it. I dropped the phone and backed against the wall. There were no other exits, there would be nothing stopping him from getting to me. I was trapped.
The doorknob jiggled again, and this time it turned. This was it. This was the end of me. The door opened, creaking on its old hinges...
...and Ethan Rhodes stood, a wicked grin on his face and a cell phone in his hand.
For a moment I stared at him, my mouth open, uncomprehending. Then all at once it dawned on me. "OHHHHH, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!!" I shouted angrily, clenching my fists so hard my fingernails dug into my palms.
Rhodes chuckled heartily, obviously pleased with his prank. "Forgive me, Bridges," he said in his honeyed Southern drawl. "I called your apartment, and you weren't there, so I assumed you were working late." He slipped his cell phone into an inner pocket of his leather coat and grinned. Wait a minute, did he even own a leather coat? "I just couldn't resist."
Still trying to calm my pounding heart, I glared at him as hard as I could. I was really trying not to seize the lamp on the desk and throw it at him. "Rhodes, you scared the hell out of me!" I said furiously, my hand over my chest.
With smooth, economic movements, Rhodes shed his coat and scarf, hanging them on the coat rack by the door. Despite my anger and residual fear, I couldn't help but notice that he was wearing a gray heather T-shirt that was so tight it could have been painted on.
Annoyed at myself for appreciating my partner's narrow but muscular torso when I should have been enraged, I turned heatedly away from him and resumed my work at the computer. Rhodes crossed the little waiting room and leaned against the desk, pushing his shaggy black hair behind his ear. "Come now, Bridges, it was just a joke," he said mildly.
My jaw tightened, and I continued typing.
Rhodes waited for a moment, then sighed. "The silent treatment now, is it?"
I didn't answer. The clacking sound of the keys filled the room.
And then Rhodes did exactly what I didn't want him to do. Pushing himself off the desk, he came around to the other side and rested his hand on my shoulder. I stiffened, but didn't shake it off. "I'm sorry if I frightened you, Bridges," he said gently. "Please don't be angry with me."
Now it was my turn to sigh. The dork, how could I ever stay angry at him? "Yes, fine, I forgive you," I said resignedly, swiveling around in my chair to face him. "Just don't ever do that again, you understand me? You really scared me." My voice, to my embarrassment, trembled a bit.
Rhodes caught my distress at the same time I did, and he pulled me out of my chair and straight into his arms. "I'm sorry," he repeated, murmuring into my hair. "If I had known it would make you so upset, I wouldn't have done it."
"It's okay," I replied, blushing as he drew me closer against his hard chest. I hoped no one outside was watching.
He drew away slightly, just enough to gaze into my face. His own wore an expression I had never seen before, and my heart began to thud against my ribcage again, and not because of fear.
"You know, Bridges," he said in a low, husky voice. "It's only a matter of time."
I swallowed as his long white hand came up to stroke the side of my face. "Before what?" I asked nervously, my cheeks burning.
In response the hand reached around behind my head, pulled the clasp out of my hair, and tossed it carelessly aside. "When a man and a woman have been such close friends as long as we have," he continued, his fingers now threading themselves seductively through my hair. Rhodes was actually being seductive. "It's only a matter of time... before they become something more."
I couldn't speak; couldn't even think of anything to say if I *could* speak. There was no way this was happening. Rhodes and I were friends. Sure, sometimes I thought about what would happen if we took our relationship just one step farther. But it just couldn't happen. It would change everything.
Rhodes had to know where it would end. "Um," I said hesitantly, raising my hand to illustrate my point. "I don't know--"
My sentence was quickly cut off when he grabbed my hand in his free one. "You don't know what?" he breathed, his green gaze staring at me, *into* me.
Suddenly I forgot where I was going with this.
Rhodes' face drew closer to mine, taking advantage of my hesitation. "Yes?" he whispered, his eyes never leaving mine. Those beautiful, endless green eyes, darkened with passion, willing me to close the inches between us. 'Give in, Bridges, give in,' they called to me.
I released the breath I had been holding and shook my head minutely. "I forget," I said.
And then Rhodes' mouth was on mine, his gentle, searching lips exploring every curve of mine. His hands, too, wandered lazily over me, as if memorizing the shape of my body. I gasped involuntarily as I felt his fingers graze my belly, and he took the opportunity to push his tongue into my open mouth.
Heat spread like a forest fire from every inch of my skin that was in contact with his. So lightheaded I felt like I was going to pass out, I wrapped my arms around him for support, my own fingers burying themselves in his soft black hair. Rhodes pulled me closer, impossibly close, and when I heard a low moan, it took me a while to figure out it was my own.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I sat up in bed, my back as rigid as a two-by-four, my face damp with sweat. Looking around, I realized I was in my own darkened room, dozens of blocks away from the massage clinic. I looked at the digital clock on my bedside table: 3:26 in the morning. Breathing hard, I drew my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, trying to stop the pounding of my heart in my ears. Finally, when my pulse slowed, I lifted my head from my arms.
"That's the third time this week!!" I shouted at the walls of my empty room.
This was really getting to be annoying. My first dream about Rhodes had started differently, but in essence, had ended with pretty much the same results - that is, my best friend and I sucking the lips off each other. I had assumed it had been a fluke; that the dream didn't mean anything. But then, two nights later, it happened again. And now, a third time. In every instance, I woke up gasping for air.
I heard somewhere that recurring dreams were by far the most dangerous. I couldn't remember where I had heard that, but I was inclined to agree. Because after every dream, I found myself wishing that it had been real.
Which was ridiculous, of course. The very idea of Rhodes and I together, like *that*, was too weird to imagine. And yet my subconscious clearly didn't think so. While I was awake, Rhodes was my partner and closest friend, the man I had bared my soul to, and likewise with him. But when I fell asleep, he became an object of overwhelming desire.
Why *was* that?
It was true that Rhodes was gorgeous; any woman could see that. He was over six feet tall, and his narrow frame made it seem as if he was even taller. His mop of shaggy black hair was a little past his ears, and somehow contrasted perfectly with his pale skin. And his eyes... God. His eyes were a breathtaking shade of green, somewhere between emerald and jade. All of my female friends, both in Olympia and here in San Francisco, thought he was stunning. Or as my friend Alma Dominguez once said, "hotness in an expensive suit."
But Rhodes' admirable qualities didn't end with his good looks. He was charming, well-bred, and unfailingly polite; that is, when he wasn't being incorrigible on purpose. Though he could be a little melancholy at times - a result of his heartwrenching past - he still had a quiet streak of humor that took me by surprise. And no one could accuse him of not being loyal. He was the truest friend I had ever had.
I rolled over onto my side with a groan. I had to face facts: the only reason why I wasn't hopelessly in love with Rhodes was *because* he was my friend.
Yes, I knew it was ironic, but thank you for pointing it out. If Rhodes had asked me to dinner that first day we met at the coffee house I used to work, instead of just giving me his order, we would probably be married or something by now. But I had become the young detective's partner instead, working with him on a murder case which, by another ironic twist, involved my own massage instructor. The threads had all come together, and we were on the verge of catching the murderer in our nets when he unexpectedly cornered us.
And then, in a moment of either madness or devotion, Rhodes had risked his life for me and took a bullet intended for my own chest. It was the single most selfless act I had ever witnessed.
Needless to say, he survived, and the killer was locked away for life. But I would never forget what he had done for me, and ever since then, I occasionally experienced sudden, unexpected little stabs of affection for him at the strangest times - when a positive turn of events in a case would make him smile in excitement, or when he would sit curled up on his futon couch and pluck at his guitar. Sometimes just watching him stare thoughtfully out into space, his chin in his hand, filled my stomach with butterflies.
Okay, so I admit it: a lot of things about Rhodes gave me a thrill. But even if I was a tiny bit attracted to him, I could never tell him. That was unthinkable. He would absolutely freak out, withdraw back into the shell I had been trying so hard to pull him out of, and never look at me the same way again. To Rhodes, I was just his friend. His *best* friend, yes, but nothing more.
The jerk. Why did he have to be so irresistible?
I sighed and closed my eyes, trying to fall asleep again - even if it did mean I would fall back into that crazy wonderland where nothing made sense and where Rhodes couldn't get enough of me. I almost didn't want to see him tomorrow, because it would remind me of... of what we had done in my dreams. But I knew I would see him. I always saw him.
Only two days until Christmas. Maybe I shouldn't have been so hasty about staying home this year.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When I woke up the phone was ringing. I reached over groggily, almost knocking over my clock radio, and grabbed the handset off the bedside table. "'Lo?" I mumbled sleepily.
"Bridges, what are you doing today?"
I suppressed a groan. It was Rhodes, of course, wanting to hang out. If I saw him today, I couldn't guarantee that I wouldn't either kick him in the shins or kiss him on the mouth.
Passing a hand over my face, I looked at the clock. "It's seven-thirty in the morning, Rhodes," I said, blinking my eyes blearily. "You know this is my first day off. Call me back when I'm fully awake." With that I moved to hang up the phone.
"No no, wait, there's something I have to tell you!"
I brought the phone back to my ear in an instant. Rhodes had something he needed to tell me? I spoke calmly, trying not to get my hopes up. "What is it?" I asked. "Is something wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, Bridges. Nothing at all. But I would prefer to tell you in person." His voice sounded charged with nervous emotion. "Will you meet me at the Boule des Nerfs in half an hour?"
My heart gave another leap. He wanted to meet me at the coffee shop where I used to work; the place where we had first met. That had to be significant. "Sure," I replied, keeping my voice far more nonchalant than I felt. "Half an hour. I'll be there." I replaced the phone on its hook and rose from my bed. If Rhodes had something that he could only tell me in person, it must be important. Was he going to tell me that he needed me, that he couldn't stop thinking about me, and that he wanted us to be together the way we should have been this whole time?
*Oh please,* I thought to myself. How unlikely was that? And yet, as I showered and threw on my clothes, I couldn't help but dwell on the infinite possibilities.
In a relatively short time, I was done getting ready and fully prepared to meet Rhodes. I stepped out of my apartment, bolting the door behind me, and set off toward Fisherman's Wharf, which was only a small number of blocks away. The air was so cold I could see my breath, and I pulled my wool coat tighter around my neck. Despite the time of day, there were many cars in the streets, still taking care of their holiday shopping. I checked my watch and quickened my pace.
Before long the smell of fresh coffee mingled with the less pleasant perfume of fresh fish. I crossed the intersection and arrived outide the faddish coffee house, feeling the blissful warmth envelope me as I stepped through the door. My eyes quickly scanned the room, and I smiled as I saw the tall, lanky form of my partner, sitting at the same corner table he had been slouching at the first time I had taken his order.
As I drew closer, he rose, and the smile froze on my face. Standing beside him was a beautiful young woman with long brown hair, a golden tan, and exotic blue eyes. She was holding Rhodes' hand.
"Ah, Bridges, you're right on time," he said as I approached them. "I'd like you to meet Gislaine LeFavre. She's my new girlfriend."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
*dramatic music* Wow, that must be the meanest plot twist I've ever written. Well, you guys wanted angst and romantic tension, so here it is! How did you like the dream? Did you want to throw things at me when Bridges woke up? I know, I'm sorry. But hey, now you know why it's rated PG-13. Don't worry, the next chapter will be up soon. In the meantime, leave me a review if you're not *too* furious with me. Ciao for now!
Wakizashi
[email protected]
Okay, well, this latest story is once again a re-write of Conan Doyle's work; this time a modern version of 'The Dying Detective'. It is set a little over two years after the last events in the first story, and by this time Nadia is having a hard time suppressing romantic feelings for her partner and now closest friend. And for everyone who read my first story and for some reason actually liked Special Agent Edward Solomon, he's back, too. So let's begin, shall we?
Disclaimer: Though all the characters technically belong to me, the person responsible for the whole plot in the first place is Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, whom we would be lost without.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Down the Rabbit Hole
a modern Sherlock Holmes fanfiction
by Wakizashi
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Chapter One: Nadia in Wonderland
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
This really didn't make sense, I had to admit. It was eight o'clock at night, far past normal business hours at the massage clinic where I worked, and here I was entering appointments into the computer at the front desk. Um, hello, I wasn't the secretary around here! This was Stephanie's job! What was I doing here so late, and why would I be filling in for someone I didn't really know? Where in heaven's name was that girl?
I sighed in defeat. What did it matter, anyway? If I wasn't working, I would probably be off somewhere with my dear, insufferable friend Ethan Rhodes - most likely reading the newspapers for any interesting crimes, or just lounging around watching TV. Aside from solving cases, we really didn't do that much, now that I thought about it.
My mind drifting once again, I looked outside the front windows of the waiting room. It was dark, but there were still people walking briskly up and down the street, even in the freezing weather. It was amazing, how long people waited to get their Christmas shopping done. Luckily for me, I had fulfilled that duty weeks in advance. All I had to worry about was if my loved ones liked the presents I had gotten for them.
Somehow, I knew Rhodes would like his.
The phone on the receptionist's desk suddenly rang, making me jump. Why would anyone call here so late? Our doors closed at five. How could anyone know I was there? I thought of all the people I had had a hand in locking away over the past two years. One of them couldn't have tracked me down, could they?
Warily, I picked up the handset and held it to my ear. "Bay Area Massage Clinic, how can I help you?" I said, straining to keep my voice neutral.
A soft, raspy voice on the other end spoke. "What are you doing?" it asked.
My hackles rose instantly. "Who is this?" I demanded.
"Oh, you know. Not anyone special." The voice was so soft and indistinct, I couldn't even tell if it was male or female. Something insidious about it made me suspect it was a man.
"You know, I've been watching you, Nadia," the voice continued. "I must say, you're a very beautiful woman. And your voice is just as pleasing to the senses." My heart leapt into my throat at this. He knew my name? How long had he been watching me? *Oh God, Rhodes, where are you when I need you?* I thought frantically.
"Who are you?" I asked, fighting the urge to panic. It wasn't working. "What do you want from me?"
"I'm coming to you, Nadia. I'm coming right now." I choked back a sob of terror, my eyes desperately scanning the windows. But the door to the waiting room was solid wood, and anyone could be behind it. "Don't go anywhere, Nadia. Just stay right there."
To my horror, the knob moved. Oh God, he really was out there. It was an old office, and the lock had never been changed. It would only be a matter of minutes, even less that a minute, for a reasonably skilled person to pick it. I dropped the phone and backed against the wall. There were no other exits, there would be nothing stopping him from getting to me. I was trapped.
The doorknob jiggled again, and this time it turned. This was it. This was the end of me. The door opened, creaking on its old hinges...
...and Ethan Rhodes stood, a wicked grin on his face and a cell phone in his hand.
For a moment I stared at him, my mouth open, uncomprehending. Then all at once it dawned on me. "OHHHHH, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!!" I shouted angrily, clenching my fists so hard my fingernails dug into my palms.
Rhodes chuckled heartily, obviously pleased with his prank. "Forgive me, Bridges," he said in his honeyed Southern drawl. "I called your apartment, and you weren't there, so I assumed you were working late." He slipped his cell phone into an inner pocket of his leather coat and grinned. Wait a minute, did he even own a leather coat? "I just couldn't resist."
Still trying to calm my pounding heart, I glared at him as hard as I could. I was really trying not to seize the lamp on the desk and throw it at him. "Rhodes, you scared the hell out of me!" I said furiously, my hand over my chest.
With smooth, economic movements, Rhodes shed his coat and scarf, hanging them on the coat rack by the door. Despite my anger and residual fear, I couldn't help but notice that he was wearing a gray heather T-shirt that was so tight it could have been painted on.
Annoyed at myself for appreciating my partner's narrow but muscular torso when I should have been enraged, I turned heatedly away from him and resumed my work at the computer. Rhodes crossed the little waiting room and leaned against the desk, pushing his shaggy black hair behind his ear. "Come now, Bridges, it was just a joke," he said mildly.
My jaw tightened, and I continued typing.
Rhodes waited for a moment, then sighed. "The silent treatment now, is it?"
I didn't answer. The clacking sound of the keys filled the room.
And then Rhodes did exactly what I didn't want him to do. Pushing himself off the desk, he came around to the other side and rested his hand on my shoulder. I stiffened, but didn't shake it off. "I'm sorry if I frightened you, Bridges," he said gently. "Please don't be angry with me."
Now it was my turn to sigh. The dork, how could I ever stay angry at him? "Yes, fine, I forgive you," I said resignedly, swiveling around in my chair to face him. "Just don't ever do that again, you understand me? You really scared me." My voice, to my embarrassment, trembled a bit.
Rhodes caught my distress at the same time I did, and he pulled me out of my chair and straight into his arms. "I'm sorry," he repeated, murmuring into my hair. "If I had known it would make you so upset, I wouldn't have done it."
"It's okay," I replied, blushing as he drew me closer against his hard chest. I hoped no one outside was watching.
He drew away slightly, just enough to gaze into my face. His own wore an expression I had never seen before, and my heart began to thud against my ribcage again, and not because of fear.
"You know, Bridges," he said in a low, husky voice. "It's only a matter of time."
I swallowed as his long white hand came up to stroke the side of my face. "Before what?" I asked nervously, my cheeks burning.
In response the hand reached around behind my head, pulled the clasp out of my hair, and tossed it carelessly aside. "When a man and a woman have been such close friends as long as we have," he continued, his fingers now threading themselves seductively through my hair. Rhodes was actually being seductive. "It's only a matter of time... before they become something more."
I couldn't speak; couldn't even think of anything to say if I *could* speak. There was no way this was happening. Rhodes and I were friends. Sure, sometimes I thought about what would happen if we took our relationship just one step farther. But it just couldn't happen. It would change everything.
Rhodes had to know where it would end. "Um," I said hesitantly, raising my hand to illustrate my point. "I don't know--"
My sentence was quickly cut off when he grabbed my hand in his free one. "You don't know what?" he breathed, his green gaze staring at me, *into* me.
Suddenly I forgot where I was going with this.
Rhodes' face drew closer to mine, taking advantage of my hesitation. "Yes?" he whispered, his eyes never leaving mine. Those beautiful, endless green eyes, darkened with passion, willing me to close the inches between us. 'Give in, Bridges, give in,' they called to me.
I released the breath I had been holding and shook my head minutely. "I forget," I said.
And then Rhodes' mouth was on mine, his gentle, searching lips exploring every curve of mine. His hands, too, wandered lazily over me, as if memorizing the shape of my body. I gasped involuntarily as I felt his fingers graze my belly, and he took the opportunity to push his tongue into my open mouth.
Heat spread like a forest fire from every inch of my skin that was in contact with his. So lightheaded I felt like I was going to pass out, I wrapped my arms around him for support, my own fingers burying themselves in his soft black hair. Rhodes pulled me closer, impossibly close, and when I heard a low moan, it took me a while to figure out it was my own.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I sat up in bed, my back as rigid as a two-by-four, my face damp with sweat. Looking around, I realized I was in my own darkened room, dozens of blocks away from the massage clinic. I looked at the digital clock on my bedside table: 3:26 in the morning. Breathing hard, I drew my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, trying to stop the pounding of my heart in my ears. Finally, when my pulse slowed, I lifted my head from my arms.
"That's the third time this week!!" I shouted at the walls of my empty room.
This was really getting to be annoying. My first dream about Rhodes had started differently, but in essence, had ended with pretty much the same results - that is, my best friend and I sucking the lips off each other. I had assumed it had been a fluke; that the dream didn't mean anything. But then, two nights later, it happened again. And now, a third time. In every instance, I woke up gasping for air.
I heard somewhere that recurring dreams were by far the most dangerous. I couldn't remember where I had heard that, but I was inclined to agree. Because after every dream, I found myself wishing that it had been real.
Which was ridiculous, of course. The very idea of Rhodes and I together, like *that*, was too weird to imagine. And yet my subconscious clearly didn't think so. While I was awake, Rhodes was my partner and closest friend, the man I had bared my soul to, and likewise with him. But when I fell asleep, he became an object of overwhelming desire.
Why *was* that?
It was true that Rhodes was gorgeous; any woman could see that. He was over six feet tall, and his narrow frame made it seem as if he was even taller. His mop of shaggy black hair was a little past his ears, and somehow contrasted perfectly with his pale skin. And his eyes... God. His eyes were a breathtaking shade of green, somewhere between emerald and jade. All of my female friends, both in Olympia and here in San Francisco, thought he was stunning. Or as my friend Alma Dominguez once said, "hotness in an expensive suit."
But Rhodes' admirable qualities didn't end with his good looks. He was charming, well-bred, and unfailingly polite; that is, when he wasn't being incorrigible on purpose. Though he could be a little melancholy at times - a result of his heartwrenching past - he still had a quiet streak of humor that took me by surprise. And no one could accuse him of not being loyal. He was the truest friend I had ever had.
I rolled over onto my side with a groan. I had to face facts: the only reason why I wasn't hopelessly in love with Rhodes was *because* he was my friend.
Yes, I knew it was ironic, but thank you for pointing it out. If Rhodes had asked me to dinner that first day we met at the coffee house I used to work, instead of just giving me his order, we would probably be married or something by now. But I had become the young detective's partner instead, working with him on a murder case which, by another ironic twist, involved my own massage instructor. The threads had all come together, and we were on the verge of catching the murderer in our nets when he unexpectedly cornered us.
And then, in a moment of either madness or devotion, Rhodes had risked his life for me and took a bullet intended for my own chest. It was the single most selfless act I had ever witnessed.
Needless to say, he survived, and the killer was locked away for life. But I would never forget what he had done for me, and ever since then, I occasionally experienced sudden, unexpected little stabs of affection for him at the strangest times - when a positive turn of events in a case would make him smile in excitement, or when he would sit curled up on his futon couch and pluck at his guitar. Sometimes just watching him stare thoughtfully out into space, his chin in his hand, filled my stomach with butterflies.
Okay, so I admit it: a lot of things about Rhodes gave me a thrill. But even if I was a tiny bit attracted to him, I could never tell him. That was unthinkable. He would absolutely freak out, withdraw back into the shell I had been trying so hard to pull him out of, and never look at me the same way again. To Rhodes, I was just his friend. His *best* friend, yes, but nothing more.
The jerk. Why did he have to be so irresistible?
I sighed and closed my eyes, trying to fall asleep again - even if it did mean I would fall back into that crazy wonderland where nothing made sense and where Rhodes couldn't get enough of me. I almost didn't want to see him tomorrow, because it would remind me of... of what we had done in my dreams. But I knew I would see him. I always saw him.
Only two days until Christmas. Maybe I shouldn't have been so hasty about staying home this year.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When I woke up the phone was ringing. I reached over groggily, almost knocking over my clock radio, and grabbed the handset off the bedside table. "'Lo?" I mumbled sleepily.
"Bridges, what are you doing today?"
I suppressed a groan. It was Rhodes, of course, wanting to hang out. If I saw him today, I couldn't guarantee that I wouldn't either kick him in the shins or kiss him on the mouth.
Passing a hand over my face, I looked at the clock. "It's seven-thirty in the morning, Rhodes," I said, blinking my eyes blearily. "You know this is my first day off. Call me back when I'm fully awake." With that I moved to hang up the phone.
"No no, wait, there's something I have to tell you!"
I brought the phone back to my ear in an instant. Rhodes had something he needed to tell me? I spoke calmly, trying not to get my hopes up. "What is it?" I asked. "Is something wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, Bridges. Nothing at all. But I would prefer to tell you in person." His voice sounded charged with nervous emotion. "Will you meet me at the Boule des Nerfs in half an hour?"
My heart gave another leap. He wanted to meet me at the coffee shop where I used to work; the place where we had first met. That had to be significant. "Sure," I replied, keeping my voice far more nonchalant than I felt. "Half an hour. I'll be there." I replaced the phone on its hook and rose from my bed. If Rhodes had something that he could only tell me in person, it must be important. Was he going to tell me that he needed me, that he couldn't stop thinking about me, and that he wanted us to be together the way we should have been this whole time?
*Oh please,* I thought to myself. How unlikely was that? And yet, as I showered and threw on my clothes, I couldn't help but dwell on the infinite possibilities.
In a relatively short time, I was done getting ready and fully prepared to meet Rhodes. I stepped out of my apartment, bolting the door behind me, and set off toward Fisherman's Wharf, which was only a small number of blocks away. The air was so cold I could see my breath, and I pulled my wool coat tighter around my neck. Despite the time of day, there were many cars in the streets, still taking care of their holiday shopping. I checked my watch and quickened my pace.
Before long the smell of fresh coffee mingled with the less pleasant perfume of fresh fish. I crossed the intersection and arrived outide the faddish coffee house, feeling the blissful warmth envelope me as I stepped through the door. My eyes quickly scanned the room, and I smiled as I saw the tall, lanky form of my partner, sitting at the same corner table he had been slouching at the first time I had taken his order.
As I drew closer, he rose, and the smile froze on my face. Standing beside him was a beautiful young woman with long brown hair, a golden tan, and exotic blue eyes. She was holding Rhodes' hand.
"Ah, Bridges, you're right on time," he said as I approached them. "I'd like you to meet Gislaine LeFavre. She's my new girlfriend."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
*dramatic music* Wow, that must be the meanest plot twist I've ever written. Well, you guys wanted angst and romantic tension, so here it is! How did you like the dream? Did you want to throw things at me when Bridges woke up? I know, I'm sorry. But hey, now you know why it's rated PG-13. Don't worry, the next chapter will be up soon. In the meantime, leave me a review if you're not *too* furious with me. Ciao for now!
Wakizashi
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