A/N: This is just a short one to kick of season three, but expect a few more updates throughout the day. Lots to write about :)
Spoilers for episode 3x1, Revenge is Best Served Cold.
"Love sees sharply, hatred sees even more sharp, but jealousy sees the sharpest for it is love and hate at the same time."*
It didn't help that he was young and good-looking.
I'd heard Warrick, Nick and even Greg tease about this Hank, but I saw him for the first time myself en route to a scene. Just a quick glace as he and Warrick exchanged pleasantries, but it was enough.
It wouldn't have been so bad if he were, well, unattractive or deficient in some way. But no, he looked every bit the Romeo.
In the ten seconds I had to take him in, my mind went crazy – seeing him with Sara, making her laugh, touching her, kissing her…
I needed to stop. This was not healthy. I had told myself that distancing myself from her and her private life was the best thing I could do. It would not do me any good to have my imagination on overdrive.
So I focused my thoughts and energy into quiet, steady work on the case. I realized that that was how I needed to carry myself from now on. Calm indifference. Quiet contemplation.
Thankfully, my hearing held out for most of the case. One less thing to worry about. For now.
I left my office for the night a several paces behind Warrick and Sara. Coco beans had turned out to be our killer, but they weren't concerned with that little discovery.
"I hear your man Hank is a cognac kind of guy," Warrick said, elbowing Sara in the side.
"What the…" Sara replied, her voice raising. "Who told you that?"
"I swear, I am going to kill that boy before long," Sara said. "Don't listen to a word he says."
"Hey, you're preaching to the choir," Warrick said, holding his hands up for effect. "Greg's a gossip-monger. And besides, I didn't peg Hank as a cognac guy. I like him."
"Yeah," Warrick said nonchalantly. "Nice enough guy, decent, and he makes you smile. Guy's all right by me."
"Well, dually noted," Sara said, her voice hinting a smile.
My temper wanted to flare. The pit of jealousy that I'd long tried to suppress wanted to bubble over. My imagination wanted to run wild. But I turned and left the building through the side door, walking through the parking lot alone.
*Quote is an Arab proverb