[For Layla]
Chandler once said the true detective never marries. It's something I've kept in mind throughout the course of exploring this... thing with Layla, a niggling doubt at the back of my head that whispers at the most inopportune of moments. Marriage isn't in the cards for me, not by a long shot, but it is part of the natural progression. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Layla with a--
I won't bother finishing that thought. The first step still needs work.
It had been an interesting week. Between classes, his rounds with the IPD, and his daily appointments with Doc Reid, Jamie had spent his every free moment trying to come up with a suitable activity for his promised evening with Layla. Dating, per se, was as new an experience for him as it was, he presumed, for her, and he'd got it into his mind early on that it should be some grandiose affair -- a romantic dinner by candlelight, a ride on horseback, the swell of an orchestra in the background as they leaned in for that one perfect kiss. It was easier dreamed than realized, though, and in the end, after scrambling for a viable idea for what had seemed like forever, he'd come to the conclusion that it wasn't the setting he couldn't make work, but the characters. He and Layla were never going to have some fairy tale romance, which had meant, then, figuring out what they could have.
The location was chosen more for its significance than its romantic potential. On paper, of course, taking a pretty girl out to the falls sounded like a great idea, but Jamie's reasoning ran deeper than that. Months ago, he'd picked this spot as his final resting place, the last thing he'd ever see before the big sleep. There was a certain symmetry in going out there now, knowing that, in spite of everything, he wanted to live.
The set-up was small -- a blanket laid out by the rocks closest to the water, leftover cake from that morning's breakfast at the Compound, a light supper from the Winchester packaged to go, a bottle of juice to make up for the drink he'd had at the Hub after his session. Candlelight was dismissed in favor of the setting sun.
He'd dressed for the occasion in a pair of faded jeans and a pale blue button down shirt, a far cry from his uniform by any stretch of the imagination. Underneath he wore a pair of black swim trunks. Out of everything, they were causing him the most anxiety. He couldn't tell her that he loved her -- and maybe he never would -- but that he was willing to go out there at all spoke to a certain level of commitment.
Maybe this is my 'I love you.'
"You can take off the blindfold," he said, slipping behind Layla to help her do just that, nimble fingers working at the knot. It had been a last minute addition, his one stab at living in a story. "If you haven't already guessed where we are."
I won't bother finishing that thought. The first step still needs work.
It had been an interesting week. Between classes, his rounds with the IPD, and his daily appointments with Doc Reid, Jamie had spent his every free moment trying to come up with a suitable activity for his promised evening with Layla. Dating, per se, was as new an experience for him as it was, he presumed, for her, and he'd got it into his mind early on that it should be some grandiose affair -- a romantic dinner by candlelight, a ride on horseback, the swell of an orchestra in the background as they leaned in for that one perfect kiss. It was easier dreamed than realized, though, and in the end, after scrambling for a viable idea for what had seemed like forever, he'd come to the conclusion that it wasn't the setting he couldn't make work, but the characters. He and Layla were never going to have some fairy tale romance, which had meant, then, figuring out what they could have.
The location was chosen more for its significance than its romantic potential. On paper, of course, taking a pretty girl out to the falls sounded like a great idea, but Jamie's reasoning ran deeper than that. Months ago, he'd picked this spot as his final resting place, the last thing he'd ever see before the big sleep. There was a certain symmetry in going out there now, knowing that, in spite of everything, he wanted to live.
The set-up was small -- a blanket laid out by the rocks closest to the water, leftover cake from that morning's breakfast at the Compound, a light supper from the Winchester packaged to go, a bottle of juice to make up for the drink he'd had at the Hub after his session. Candlelight was dismissed in favor of the setting sun.
He'd dressed for the occasion in a pair of faded jeans and a pale blue button down shirt, a far cry from his uniform by any stretch of the imagination. Underneath he wore a pair of black swim trunks. Out of everything, they were causing him the most anxiety. He couldn't tell her that he loved her -- and maybe he never would -- but that he was willing to go out there at all spoke to a certain level of commitment.
Maybe this is my 'I love you.'
"You can take off the blindfold," he said, slipping behind Layla to help her do just that, nimble fingers working at the knot. It had been a last minute addition, his one stab at living in a story. "If you haven't already guessed where we are."