sbpd_papabear | A Proper Apology (locked to Karen Vick)

A Proper Apology (locked to Karen Vick)

He's been an idiot, and unlike most men he's absolutely sure of it when he has been. Maybe not at the time, but soon enough after the fact that if he's lucky - when he's lucky - he can make up for it... and hopefully not lose what he had hoped would be the second love of his life.

The girl... he couldn't even remember her name after what happened... she had been a mistake pure and simple. He had no right looking at a girl that young. And really, he had no place looking at someone that wasn't the woman who held his heart.

He'd gone the only way he knew how - a bouquet of roses and a bottle of wine laced with apologies sitting beside him in the truck as he waited until Iris' window went dark and only a small living room lamp remained lit.

With a deep breath, prepared for the worst, he knocks at her door and waits for her to answer it.

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She knows it's Henry. She saw his truck pull up when she was pulling the shade in Iris' room. No one on her street drives a truck like his. No one in the whole neighborhood does. But that's Henry, an iconoclast, without apology.

Well, hopefully not completely without apology. She has some to make, she hopes he does too.

"Hi," is all she says when she opens the door. She'd like to say more. She'd like to kiss him. But she plays it cool.

Henry swallows hard, swallows back the foolish pride that put him in that situation to begin with and the fear that he'll have missed his chance. Exhaling a breath he hadn't realized he'd held as she opened the door, he says quickly; "I'm an idiot."

He then holds out the half dozen pink carnations (roses would be too showy, and dozen would be overwhelming) wound tightly with baby's breath in white paper with a big pink bow. "A big one."

"Henry," she shakes her head, stepping back to let him in. "You're not an idiot. You're..." There are so many ways she could describe him and the daft choices that brought them to this moment, but one stands above the rest. "You're a loving man." Belatedly she takes the flowers, cheered by the bright, optimistic simplicity of them. He couldn't have chosen better.

The door is open, but he still awkwardly stands in the doorway - lowering his eyes when she smiles at him. He almost wants her to be angry, to feel like she doesn't just adore him no matter what stupid things he does.

He wants to feel punished for his mistakes.

"I mean it, Karen." He looks back up to her, his eyes showing dark circles in the network of creases from the sleepless night he had. "Not just for the camera."

"I know," she takes his hand, pulling him inside. It's a chilly evening and she's not going to stand and talk in the open door. "Come on," she leads him into the living room, dropping into the love seat. "Sit with me and talk this out. Don't get bashful with me, Henry, we have to clear the air."

She can't know, of course, not in any sort of detail. Hell, Lassiter had barely had the time to file the report on the incident in wine country - and there was no way it included his brush with insanity.

He follows her in almost timidly, clutching the bottle of wine for some kind of moral support when he stops at the end of the short sofa. After a moment of consideration, stalling the inevitable, he asks; "Maybe I can pour us a drink?"

"Is that really what you want, or are you stalling?" She's gentle as she can be. She doesn't want to spook him, and it's clear that he feels like he needs to make a big show of making things right, but she'd just as soon clear the air between them and try to put the pieces back together and she doesn't need wine for that.

"I just want to talk."

He nods slowly, depositing the bottle on the table before settling onto the sofa beside her. "I, uh... I made a mistake, Karen."

Henry sighs, crossing his arms as he tries to find exactly the words to say what's on his mind.

"I made lots of mistakes."

This is more than the traffic camera, that's coming clear. "I'm listening. And whatever you tell me, I'm going to listen carefully and I won't jump to any conclusions." She owes him - and herself - that much. She rests her hand gently on his. "Henry, it's going to be okay."

If she has to arrest half of Santa Barbara to make sure of that, well, she has a box of zip tie cuffs in her trunk.

She doesn't have to say it, he knows her... she's always been one to listen before she jumps - calmly considerate. When she touches his hand, he turns his palm up to grasp hers.

"You need to know." He sighs and licks his lips, feeling her eyes on him and curious. "The other night, I went out to a club with Gus and Detective Lassiter - I was... I don't know, lonely I guess. The stupid part of my brain thought maybe we were through."

Oh. Well that isn't what she was expecting to hear. He was lonely but instead of calling her, he was out with Gus and Carlton and...

"What did you do?" the words are barely a whisper.

He shakes his head, closing his eyes as he lets out a soft sigh. "Nothing," he says weakly and then manages to look her in the eyes.

"There was this stupid bet about who could get a number first and we just sort of hit it off, and you know... it felt good to talk to a young, attractive woman but when it was clear - blatantly clear - she wanted more I just thought about the sweet, young, attractive woman I had at home who isn't a lot more Shawn's speed than mine."

He laughs nervously, scratching over his scalp; "I wanted to call you so bad, you know? And just tell you that I'm sorry and I shouldn't have put you in a position that would compromise your job."

"I wish you had," she says quietly, trying to focus on what he's saying and not her imaginations about some young woman -- how young, she wonders -- giving Henry her number, wanting more.

"I should've just called you myself. But you seemed so angry." She didn't want to fight with him any more. She's had enough fighting to last her a lifetime. "Not angry any more?"

His laugh comes easy, nervous as he shakes his head.

"I wasn't angry. I was stupid."

Henry shifts himself closer to her and murmurs; "I don't want to be stupid anymore."

"Let's just call it a momentary lapse, then," she suggests, "and say that the moment is over."

She puts her arms around him. "And maybe try not to have any more moments. Either of us. I promise for my part."

He likes that idea, even though it feels like he's getting off a little too easy.

Slowly, Henry nods against her and brushes a kiss against her cheek. "You have my word." For what it's worth.

"I won't pull that kind of stunt again."

"Good, because I need you. There," she nods in the vague direction of the station, "and here."

She caresses his cheek, looking into his warm blue eyes. "And I'll do my best not to let my roles as your Chief and your lover get all muddled up again."

"I need you..." he smiles, dragging her hand to his breast pocket; "right here."

He'll make sure they won't get muddled, no matter what. It's time.

"You didn't do anything wrong."

She shrugs a shoulder. "I'm right here," she pats his chest, "until I'm evicted. It's my favorite place to be."

She's not entirely sure that she did nothing wrong. Everything since Henry walked into her office -- actually, since her IT compliance officer called her -- has felt wrong. She was just entirely on the wrong foot in the right shoes. But it's not really about right or wrong now. That part's behind them.

"Right, wrong, we're here, now. It's done. We move forward."

"Eviction is not an option." He presses a small kiss against the corner of her mouth, letting his arms slip easily around her.

"I love you, Karen. I hope you know that."

Her breath catches in her throat and it takes her a moment to be able to speak. "I've never doubted your love. Not for a moment."

She may have doubted whether their love -- not just his, but theirs together -- was enough to make this complicated, mostly clandestine, second chance work. Or rather, she worried that it wasn't. But she never doubted him, or his heart.

She confesses that doubt in a whisper, her lips brushing his ear. He deserves to know her slip, her moment of losing faith in this fragile thing they've built. "But I know you love me, Henry, and I hope you know how much I love you. And I want this, us, no matter how much work it is."

It's easy to rest his cheek against hers and let himself revel in the relief of that thought - in the knowledge that they're on the same page.

"It's worth it. You're worth it."

"So are you. Always."

She kisses him softly and steps out on a limb. "Stay with me tonight?" She's not ready to let him go, won't be ready for a long time.

"Of course..." he murmurs against her lips, leaning easily against her.

"I'll stay as long as you like."

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A Proper Apology (locked to Karen Vick)

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