A/N: Written as my short story for belonging. It's finally not my usual fluff/happy ending. My teacher will kill me when she reads it cause of the language etc but she hates all of my writing anyway so...
Spoilers for various episodes - Tango (18x10) For the Defence (20x09) and Dignity (20x05).
"I am outside the door." Pause. "I know you're in there. Open up. We need to talk." Silence. Then, "Come on, let me in."
I pulled open the door roughly and sent the biggest glare I could muster to the man on my door-step. "Why won't you take no for an answer?"
I waited for him to try and talk his way out of this one, to argue his way out of it. But all I got was a simple, two word sentence - two little words that surprised me. "I'm sorry."
I moved away from the door, silently allowing him to come inside. It was not fair on my neighbours to do this out in the corridor, in hearing range of all of them. I didn't know how this could turn out – but I knew that it would end with one or both of us in a yelling match. At least in here it wouldn't be as loud and we had a decreased chance of someone calling the cops on us.
"You hung me out to dry today!"
Typical bastard! Apologising was just a way to get into my apartment – of course he didn't actually mean it. For him to mean it, meant he actually had to care about something.
"Yeah? And?" I raised an eyebrow folding my arms across my chest. I was getting sick of him and his ego.
"I thought we were meant to be partners."
"Partners? Please," I scoffed, dragging the word out to two syllables, rolling my eyes at him. I doubted he even knew what the word meant. "You wouldn't even know what that word means."
It was his turn to frown. "I do know what it means. It means that we work together, trust one another, we consult one another."
I laughed. "Oh, like you do with me? Hmm, let's see," I trailed off, pretending to think about it for a minute, counting them off on my fingers. "You didn't consult me that time when you accused me of murder in open court, and of being in love with Woll. You didn't consult me, before you "pimped" me out to the jury."
"I told you I was sorry about them and -"
"Sorry?" I scoffed once more, anger filling me from the inside out. "Sorry implies that you actually have to care about something and… You don't seem to care abut anything – other then winning of course."
"That's not true," he lowered his voice, hesitating, looking away from me to the wall, then back to me. "I care about you!"
"You care about me? You've never shown it. Pimping me out to the jury, accusing me of murder, ordering me to go against what I believe in, to go against my morals and ethics. I'm not like you. I have a sole."
"What? You don't think I have a sole? I do, only my job, our job, demands that we remain objective at all times. You should know that by now."
I had to admit he had a point. I closed my eyes, trying to control my anger - at him… at the situation. I was too tired to do this right now. I couldn't do this.
"Despite what you think of me Connie – about I'm portrayed as a heartless bastard who doesn't give a shit about anything I do care. I care about you. And I need you."
His words were barley audible but I still heard them. I opened my eyes, surprised but as I opened my mouth to speak, to respond, I saw him walking to the door. "You know what? I only came by here because I knew the case was hard on you, I wanted to make sure that you were okay. I guess I have my answer then."
Opening the door he hesitated. "I'll see you tomorrow. If you haven't transferred already."