User:Slade81/sandbox

'''This is one of my fan fiction sandboxes. You shall not pass! Y'know...Spoilers and all that. I'll publish when it's finished.'''

Chapter One
Birdsong trails through the fog of my sleeping mind, remaining there until I wake up. Well, only a little. I'm vaguely aware that I'm happy as I rub the soft fuzz of a blanket over my face, and I know that part of my deep contentment comes from the bottles of wine from last night, and part comes from temporary security in a lifelong tenderness. I know that today, I'm going to ache for him just like every other day, and want him when he makes it home, but this piece of the morning is the best. A bit of wine still in my system, no worries yet, and a feeling of strength and love that hasn't yet been corrupted by fear. This is the time of day I think of Charlie as my husband and a great man, not a brilliant detective and a selfless one. Right now, I can think of him as only mine.

I smile a little, there in his arms, and open my eyes to see the bedroom. The mess brings to mind the beginnings of last night: him coming home late, me crying, us drinking, kissing, lace, bedroom... Our kind of love. No cheesy movies and salty popcorn. No walks on the beach. No awkward visits to in-laws. Just the stress while he works, and the relief when he makes it home. My friends and my parents don't understand it. I barely understand it. I don't know if Charlie can, but I don't ask him. I let him talk about work when he wants to.

I search around the room, in the untidy blanket and in the clothes strewn on the floor. I finally find my lingerie and slip it on before going to open the curtains, casting shafts of light into the room. I take a moment to stare out at the city. Starlight Shores. I've lived here my whole life and never gotten sick of it. The city and the beach are perfectly balanced. I grew up in a small beachside house and moved into a fantastic home in the city when I married Charlie, which is enough of a change of scene for anyone. Overall, I love my life, but a lot of the time I forget that.

I climb back into bed with my husband and lie there for a few minutes, thinking about us, remembering every milestone in our relationship, from the first adorably awkward date to our three year anniversary just last Spring.


 * "Hey."

His voice startles me out of my thoughts. "Good morning, love," I say as he opens his eyes. "How'd you sleep?"


 * "Great. I always feel better when we go to bed at the same time," he replies. "But I wish you wouldn't wait up for me. You need your sleep."

"So do you," I frown. "Besides, I don't sleep well without you anyway."


 * Clara_sitting_on_the_bed.jpeg"I just wish you'd try." Charlie reaches out and strokes my cheek. "What time is it?"

I look at the clock on the wall. "8:02."


 * "Whop! Time to get up," Charlie says, getting up. I sit on the edge of the bed. I can feel my morning strength already slipping away as he pulls on boxers and pants, getting ready to leave again. I know that he has his responsibilties, as everyone does, but I don't know why they've left it up to him to tangle with criminals and psychos. I don't know why he signed up for it. I guess my mood shows on my face, because Charlie pauses as he puts on his belt. He looks at me. "Cheer up, honey. I'll be back."

"I know, Charlie." I know he'll try. "I'll go start breakfast."

I go downstairs to the kitchen, grease a frying pan and put salmon and seasonings inside and let it cook. While it fries, I scrape a spatula under the fish, more and more angrily until the fish starts to fall apart.


 * "Clara?" Charlie appears in the doorway, his face worried. Suddenly I feel inconsiderate.Clara_makes_salmon_in_her_lingerie.jpeg

"Sorry," I apologize, flipping the fish onto plates and setting them on the dining room table.


 * "Look..." Charlie says, sitting down across from me at the table. "There's something I've wanted to tell you about. A work thing."

I feel my stomach tighten, then feel bad for assuming the worst. "Okay."


 * "There's this criminal, a high-up one. Debano's the only name we know him by at the station. Me and him have had a...personal talk."

I start to panic, but only nod.


 * "He knows about us now, Clara. I'm so, so sorry, but he knows. I just want you to be careful, okay? Even when you're at home. Check who it is before answering the door, keep the doors locked, the windows shut... And for God's sake, don't go out alone."


 * Clara_scared_at_the_table.jpeg cover my mouth with my hands, shocked at his unintentional threat. "You mean...If you cross him...He could come here?"
 * "That's what I mean, yes." Charlie's face is pained. "Clara, I swear, I'll leave him alone. I'll let him do whatever, as long as he doesn't come near you. I promise."
 * I quickly compose myself, pushing every immediate pang of fear away so what I say can sound like what I want. "No, Charlie. You do your job. You try and stop him and don't worry about me. Just watch out for him and watch out for yourself."
 * "Thanks, Clara." His voice is choked.Lancasters_kissing_goodbye_in_the_morning.jpeg
 * I walk him to the front door, looking at his uniform. Every kid who watches TV could tell he's a detective, from the fedora to the coat. No one could miss him. Neither of us knows what to say.
 * "Be careful," he says at last.
 * "You too." I'm about to wish him good luck, with that same false composure, when he takes hold of me and kisses me with more passion than any lie I could Lancasters_hugging,_Clara_sad.jpeg up about being okay. I try not to react too much, not to let him know how scared I am. But I can't help it and when I give in and hug him fiercely, I brush away tears on the back of his coat.
 * Then, like every morning whether I like it or not, he walks out the front door.

*  *  *