This is my first Dark Blue story, so please don't flame! I've tried to stay in character, but I've not seen all the episodes, so it might be a little hinky.
I absolutely adore the twisted relationship between Dean and Jaimie, hence I'm doing a one-shot series for the episodes, and it'll all feature around that pairing. Plus, Logan Marshall Green is hot, no?
Please review. It makes my week and believe me, my week so far sucks.
Falling into Heaven.
"If I live too long Im afraid Ill die so I will follow you wherever you go" - Kinks
Jaimie unloaded her Glock and slipped it into her desk drawer, comfortable in the fact that she had her off-dut weapon holstered and ready. It was a habit she'd slipped into during her days as a runaway; stay protected at all times. This hadn't changed when she became a cop, just legalised it, if you didn't count her changing her identity to become a cop. But it was her life now.
A noise made her glanced up. Dean Bendis strode in, kicking the chair out of the way from his desk as he ran his hands over his shaved head, letting his breath out sharply. He'd not noticed Jaimie sat in the corner, and she was given the chance to observe and study him. She knew what was going on. Dean was riding on the high, the adrenilin that was coursing through his veins and overpowering everything he knew. His senses were heightened, an ultra-awareness of his surroundings, every instict kicking into overdrive. The only thing she was able to compare it to was the high of the drugs she had relied upon for so long.
She coughed, alerting him to her presence in the only way she could think of that wouldn't get her killed. It wasn't all that effective; Dean spun towards her, Glack levelled at her forehead. It was so fast that Jaimie barely saw it, but she didn't flinch. "D'you mind? That's twice you've pointed a gun at me without so much as a hello."
He lowered his weapon quickly, gruffly replying with, "hello".
Jaimie stare for a moment, before giving a humourless chuckle. "Alright. Bye." She grabbed her jacket and made it halfway to the door before a hand shot out, catching hers.
"Sorry." he murmured, and Jaimie figured that it wasn't a regular word for him to use. "'M Dean. Dean Bendis."
"Yeah, I know. I was told to shoot you today." she replied with a slight smirk.
He laughed. It was a strange, husky sound, tainted by years of cigarettes and alcohol, she supposed. It was the same dry sound so familiar to her ears, the lack of humour she suffered from. "Yeah, I figured. Ty, I'm guessing."
She cocked her head, studying his expression. There was a faint trace of a smile on his lips, and his eyes burned with some sort of drak intesitiy that both thrilled and terrified her. The thought of working with him, relying on him, trusting him with her life... She wasn't sure whether she was going to be the best protected cop in LA, or dead within a week. "Yeah. You had us all worried. Didn't know if you'd flipped."
He snorted derisively. "Please. If I'm going to flip, it'll be for something more substantial than that trainwreck."
"If you're going to flip?" she repeated, mildly alarmed.
"Don't freak, new kid." he released her arm, stepping back. "Think I'd miss breaking in the rookie? Where'd Carter find you, anyway? Sure as hell ain't undercover. Homicide?"
"No, and what makes you think I'm not from undercover?" she demanded, automatically on the defensive.
"Because you've got talent." he replied, the compliment sounding more like an insult. "Undercovers... they're cops playing spy, that's all. No real skill, no real natural ability. You... any undercover would've put a round straight through my chest, especially if Ty'd spoken to them. You held your nerve."
"You still made me." she countered bitterly.
"In a heartbeat." he agreed. "But I could make a cop anytime, anywhere. So, where? Narc? Vice, maybe?"
"Beat cop." she replied after a pause. "Comes up to me in a cafe, hands me my life in a manila folder and offers me a job."
"Beat cop?" Dean's eyebrows shot up. "You serious? I didn't think Carter even realised beat cops are cops. You must have one hell of a record."
"Something like that." agreed Jaimie quietly.
He regarded her for a moment. "Look, if you're lookin' for sympathy, or a compliment, you're in the wrong career, sweetheart. And you sure as hell ain't gonna get one from me."
She set her jaw, folding her arms tightly. "I'm not looking for anything. I don't need assurance from you to know I can do my job, and I don't need my hand holding."
"Good. You might just survive, then." he called, pulling on his own jacket and striding past her to the door. "I'm going for a drink. You coming?"
She felt her heart skip a beat as she watched Dean, with his impatient but unaffected expression, tall stature (at least compared to her own small frame) and casual clothing, car keys dangling from one hand. He was attractive, that was undeniable. But Scott flashed into her mind, and she shook her head. "Nah. I've got a date."
"Suit youself." he shrugged, and was gone without another word.
Jaimie shook her head again, trying to shake the peculiar feeling settling in her stomach following the bizarre encounter, before growing steadily more and more pissed. He didn't even ask my name. Jackass. She was going to prove to all of them that she deserved to be there, wasn't some rookie.
Hell if she was gonna go down without a fight.