The Bars Between Us

15. New York

I look at the GPS on the dashboard and see that I am halfway, with an hour and a half left. I rest my head on my hand, running my fingers through my hair. We had come to a standstill. I decide to let Scott know that I'm on my way so I reach into the bag on the passenger seat and grab my phone.

I'm about an hour and a half away, but am currently stopped in traffic.

I put the phone on the passenger seat as I wait for the traffic to move. The vehicles in front of me start to move slowly, causing me to press on the accelerator lightly. I stop the car, when the traffic stops again. My phone soon lets me know that I have a reply from Scott.

OK, I'll see you in a couple of hours. I'll take you out for lunch.

I go to object about the lunch, but stop, thinking it would be nice to catch up with him, without Roman knowing.

Sounds nice.

*^*^*

Two hours later I finally turn the engine off. Feeling grateful for being able to stretch my legs, I get out of the car, groaning as I straighten. My legs feel stiff. I reach back into the car, taking my bag out, before locking it. Pushing it onto my shoulder, I turn and make my way out of the parking lot. I step out onto the busy sidewalk, looking up and around at the tall buildings. I glance at my watch and see that it's just past midday. Feeling hungry and eager to get what I came for, I set off for Scott's precinct.

As I walk, I politely decline all the vendors selling different things, which mostly consists of tourist souvenirs. Eventually, I stop outside on an unassuming building, except for the police cars outside. I return the greetings from the cops I pass, with a smile. I go to push open the door, but am stopped when it's pulled open from the inside.

I move back to allow the people out, other than one who stays behind to keep the door open for me. I look down, mumbling a thanks, before entering the building. Not knowing exactly what I should do, I look around. Obviously sensing my uncertainty, a lady calls out.

"Hi, Miss? Can I help you?" I look around and meet her gaze, before walking over to her desk.

"Uh, yes. I'm looking for someone."

"Have you been called in?" she asks.

"No. Well, yes, but not in that way," I stumble to explain.

"Who are you looking for?"

"Scott," I tell her, but quickly clarify further when I realize there are probably many Scotts in the precinct. "Scott Robinson."

She nods. "If you wait a moment, I'll tell him you're here. What's your name?"

"Aphrodite Stevens."

She gives me the ordinary look over before, reaching for the phone on her desk. I step back from her desk, and sit down in a chair next to it. I drum my fingers on my leg as I wait, feeling slightly nervous about seeing him after two years. We used to see him often—or, at least communicate with him—and then it suddenly stopped after the wedding. The lady puts the phone down and turns to me.

"He'll be down in a minute."

I nod in thanks, before going back to drumming my fingers on my leg.

Like she said, a minute later, I hear my name being called.

"DeeDee! I can't believe you're here, it's so good to see you!" he exclaims.

I stand up, a wavering smile on my face. I look him up and down and see that he's dressed smartly, which is unlike the Scott I used to know, but everything else is just the same. His blond hair is exactly the same style, and his green eyes still hold their cheeky glint. He reaches forward, and pulls me into a hug. I return it, feeling nostalgic. He pulls back, but his hands stay on my shoulders, gripping them.

"Wow, you look almost exactly the same," he comments.

I chuckle, not believing him. After all the abuse I have taken from Roman, I probably look like a shadow of my former self. My amber eyes probably hold sadness, while I still have the scars from all the hurt I have felt. I still have a scab from where Roman hit me with the bottle, and the bandage on my wrist which Roman ignored like it wasn't there.

However, Scott notices.

"What happened?" he asks with concern.

"I fell down the stairs." I trudge out the excuse I use constantly. "I'm okay, it was nothing serious."

He gives me a sympathetic smile, before it changes to his usual easy grin. "Okay, well I'll get you the file, and then we'll go for lunch so we can catch up properly."

I follow him back past the woman behind the desk, and to an elevator. He presses his floor number, causing the elevator to jolt to life. The short ride up is silent. Then the doors slide open and show a room full of desks. Scott leads me through them until we stop at one. He turns to the desk behind us, pulls the chair out, and turns it around for me. He falls down into his own chair, before wiggling his computer mouse. I sit down on the edge of the chair, leaning towards the monitor.

"Most of the cases have gone electronic," he lets me know as he types in his login information.

He moves the mouse to open the database, and types in Nixon's name. He examines the results before clicking on one. He turns to me as he moves his chair out of the way.

"Thanks, Scott," I say as I move my chair into the space in front of the monitor.

I take the mouse and scroll through the pages, my eyes scanning over the information. Bile rises in my throat when I see the crime scene photos. I swallow it down as I turn to look at Scott.

"Can you print a copy? That way I can have a proper look at it later."

"Sure."

I move back out of the way, so he can go back to the computer to print the file. The image of Grace, Nixon's girlfriend, on the floor undistinguishable because of all the blood, flashes up in my mind. I can't let my emotions affect my judgment; I'm trying to find the truth, whatever it is.

"It'll take a minute to print all the pages," he lets me know. I nod.

As we wait, I see him looking me up and down curiously, as if he was trying to work something out. He shows me a smile, before saying he'll go and get the file for me. As he walks off, I look at his desk, hoping for it to show me more about his life, and who he is now.

I see a photo frame next to the monitor. It's of a woman who is laughing at the camera. Her red hair is blowing around her face, and her green eyes are crinkled in amusement. This must be his fiancée. I pick it up and see that she and the person behind the camera, who I assume to be Scott, are on a beach.

She looks happy, so I assume Scott is happy too. I put it back down and move my eyes over the desk again. It doesn't have much on it, apart from his work. I jump when the chair next to me is pulled back by a returning Scott. He sits down, putting the pages in a folder. He passes it to me.

"Thank you, you didn't have to do that for me, especially after we haven't spoken since the wedding, which I'm sorry—" I start to ramble as I put the folder in my bag.

"It wasn't a problem. We both have our lives to lead so don't worry," he cuts me off. "You ready for lunch?"

Here you go! I hope you liked it!

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