sbpd_papabear | OOM: After Stumbling On Milliways

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OOM: After Stumbling On Milliways

It's been a couple days since they stumbled into some sort of shared hallucination (which is really the best thing he can think to call it) and neither one has broached the topic. For Henry's part, he's decided it's either too weird to talk about or never happened at all.

Instead, he's working late on Thursday night fixing paperwork that tried to claim Gus' car insurance as a state billable work expense. Nice try.

Just after seven, the station had gone more or less quiet - the steady din of the workday tapering off to the solemn click of a few keyboards punctuating the otherwise still environment. It was kind of nice... perfect time to grab a coffee and check out the snack machine for options to stave off dinner until he went home.

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"I'm sorry, Henry." She touches his hand, but only briefly before looking away, a little ashamed to have brought it up, a little sad that it's still so present in her mind.

"I don't know," she admits at some length. "I can't go through a door, either. I hesitated this morning getting into the shower. I worried driving through the tunnel on Via Esperanza. Anything could be a portal. How do we know?"

Portal

The word strikes him and he shakes his head again, clenching the hand that she'd touched. He knows what the implication is.

Several silent moments later, he looks back up at her and mutters; "I'm not going back in the evidence room until I've had at least one drink."

"I've been coming into the station from the back door. It's only halfway helped."

The waiter brings their food, hovering a moment to make sure they have all they need.

"Do you want to get a bottle of wine, maybe?"

"That sounds like a very good idea."

Maybe if he can get a glass or two in his system things will seem a little less insane.

"I'm sorry I brought it up, I ruined our dinner. We should've stuck to talking about fishing."

"No... it's fine." He slides his hand back to lean it against hers, not even sure why he's seeking the comfort.

"If we're going to deal with this, we're going to have to talk about it." He sighs; "And eventually try to go back."

Try, because he's not entirely sure that they can.

"Go back?" She gasps, pulling back and looking at him like he's nuts. "Go back there?"

In her wildest imagination she can't think of anything she wants to do less.

"Now who sounds nuts?"

"You were a detective, Karen. You know you can't investigate without access to an eyewitness or the crime scene."

He raises both eyebrows; "If we're going to figure this out, we need more than just ourselves."

The words 'crime scene' make her gut twist and she has to drop her chopsticks. She sighs heavily.

"Well, we're our own eyewitnesses. We don't know how to get to the... scene."

She hates what she's about to say, but it's been niggling at her every time the matter comes up.

"If this is some otherworldly kind of thing, that's, well, it's rather in the realm of of Psych, isn't it?"?

"No, uh-uh... no way am I bringing them into this." And not only because he's pretty sure Shawn'll try to have him committed.

"We can handle this, we'll go together - just the two of us - and try the door I went through."

"We'll try the door, and maybe we'll get there, but what if we can't get back?"

The idea of going back is tempting, of course, to figure out just what it was that happened. But she's become the sort of person who likes to have some guarantees in life.

"I can't just disappear, Henry."

"Then we'll have to keep dealing with it and be left wondering what really happened."

On cue, the waiter arrives with their wine and two nice large glasses.

"Might be worth the risk."

Now that gets her. It wasn't like that place, wherever it was, was unpleasant. But it wasn't home. It wasn't work. Their friends, their families, they were all back at home, none the wiser.

And time didn't pass in their "real" world.

Would that be the case if they went back? Would they at least find out where "there" even was? And why they were able to get there?

Was it worth the risk?

"I think I need to weigh the pros and cons. Unless you want to sell me." She takes a long swallow of wine, food forgotten for now. She's more than a little off kilter.

"Sell, no..." he shakes his head; "I think it's probably a terrible idea, but a better option that sitting around worrying about it."

The wine helps, a little.

The wine is helping a lot. It's giving her courage, false or not, she'll take it.

"So when do we try? Tonight? Tomorrow?"

Several bites of consideration later, he's not entirely sure.

Quietly, he replies; "If we go tonight, we're less likely to be seen going in together - but I don't know if you wanna do this at night."

"Why do you think it'd make a difference? As you pointed out, Henry, I'm a cop. Do you know where I made my bones? Vice. When I was with LAPD. I'm not exactly a blushing virgin."

And that lingering warmth of wine and his brain curling around things he shouldn't be thinking is back again; pinking his ears and scalp.

"Hey, I'm just saying that people might have some very interesting things to say about the two of us hanging out in the evidence room in the middle of the day."

"I'm sure people will have interesting things to say about us hanging out anywhere at any time, if they're inclined to gossip."

It's not like she doesn't know that the officers and clerks talk about her behind her back, and not always kindly. It's just how things go. At least they're respectful to her face, and get their jobs done. That's all she really asks.

"But then again, I am the chief. If I want to work in the evidence room with my consultant liaison at any given time, that's my prerogative."

There's always the question of how much gets back to the individual. Henry's not been told to his face, but he doesn't need to hear it to know things get said that people shouldn't be talking about without proper information - and even then, it's inappropriate.

He finishes his glass of wine, topping hers off before refilling his own glass - mulling over the options.

"Tomorrow, then." He nods slowly, twisting his fork in the noodles, "Just me and you."

Now it's her turn to feel warmth crawl up the back of her neck, lighting up her ears. She untucks her hair and picks up her chopsticks.

"Tomorrow. We could come in early, avoid the speculation a little, maybe?"

Henry looked back up to her with a small hint of a smile; "I thought you weren't worried about speculation?"

He chuckled under his breath; "I mean, it's kind funny - me and you..."

"Not so funny," she protests.

It's out of her mouth before she realizes it. And before she realizes the implication. She twists her mouth, embarrassed.

"Not worried about it, but we could waylay it altogether, is all I meant."

For a moment it's just there - and he considers addressing it...

And then she continues and he only nods. "Sure, yeah... I'm okay with that."

"Okay," she nods. "We'll figure this out, Henry, right?"

His way of cutting things down to brass tacks is still reassuring to her, in the end. She trusts his judgment, probably more than anyone else in the SBPD.

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