The Aftermath of Getting Away With Murder

I've Got Her

By the time they left the restaurant, Pip was stumbling drunk, Ravi and Cara having to hold her up and help her back to the car.

Just one glass of wine, she had said. Just one.

So, Ravi ordered her one.

But then, a polite please for a second glass, and then a third, and by the time she was half done with her fourth, Ravi decided that was definitely more than enough.

Pippa "No, I Don't Drink," Fitz-Amobi, right?

As they half-dragged her to the car, she began to mumble about someone. About what she had done, and about, how could I live with this?

And Ravi knew who and what she was talking about. There was no way she wasn't talking about him.

Jason Bell. The DT Killer. The Stratford Strangler.

"What's she going on about?" Cara asked, helping Ravi sit her in the backseat.

"The guy I ki-" Pip began, words slurred, her eyes fluttering as she stared up at Cara.

Ravi was quick to press a hand over her mouth, gently shushing her, and buckling her seatbelt.

"Nothing. Just, um, how she kissed a guy at a party as a dare, once."

"No?" Pip mumbled, flopping onto her side and pushing Ravi's hand away. "I never -"

"Shh, Pip." He told her gently, pushing her feet inside the car and closing the door. "I'm sorry about her."

"No worries. Will she be alright? Should I come over and help out with her?"

"No, that's okay. I've got her. She's going to be my wife, I'm going to have to handle her on my own." He said with a smile, the word wife really sinking in for the first time.

His wife. Her husband.

It was almost odd. Just nearly.

But at the same time, it was right. It was the right, beautiful thing. This was right.

Ravi said goodbye to their friends before getting in the car with a sigh. "Pip,"

"Mm?" She asked, half asleep.

"You can't...you can't talk about him, baby."

"Who?"

"You know who, Sarge. Come on." He told her, starting the car; and the drive home.

"Jason?" She slurred.

"Shh, yes. You know better than that, Pips."

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, eyes closed as she pulled her knees to her chest, still laid on her side.

"No, Sarge," he said, looking in the rearview mirror. "Don't be sorry. It's okay. We're okay."

The rest of the drive to Ravi's apartment was silent and slow, Ravi driving carefully so Pip wouldn't get carsick.

He parked the car and carried her inside - bridal style, her chin rest on his shoulder - before laying her in his bed.

He told her to rest as she tried to pull off her heels, and that he would do all that for her.

And of course, he did. He gently took off her shoes, sitting her up to remove her dress and her bra; she quickly covered herself with her arms, though sloppily.

He laughed softly and grabbed her some pajamas, pulling the shirt over her head and the pants over her thighs as he laid her on her side.

He grabbed her a trash bin in case she needed to be sick, and laid behind her, petting her hair as she fell asleep.