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"Hey, Linden!" I say this deliberately to tease you, exhaling a huge cloud of smoke from my lungs.
You turn your head in my direction and wince, enveloped in the tobacco haze.
"Is this another of your jokes, Holder?"
You feign anger at me, frowning and pursing your lips, but I know the truth.
You like it!
You spend too much time with me, and we're inevitably growing into each other.
"We're becoming one, Linden! The process can't be stopped!"
I don't notice I'm saying it out loud, and your face contorts into a pained grimace. You're the more vulnerable of us, even though you're used to thinking differently.
"Did the rain tell you that, Holder? Some philosophical stuff? I'm still waiting for your book, remember?
You're laughing! Because you don't think I'm serious.
But I'm not joking.
Large drops pound the windshield, striving for unity. They're all the same. At first they look like individual splashes, but then they merge under the action of the windshield wipers, eventually forming a chaotic mass on the gray asphalt. Someday, Linden, we too will be smeared across the glass like that! Some Rahim will shoot me when I try to arrest him, and you will get hit over the head with a hammer in some seedy motel.
That's how it will be, Linden! It can't be avoided!
People like Reddick retire; people like us fade into oblivion. We're pelted with sticky clods of rain-soaked soil. Reddick makes headlines; we're the subject of obituaries.
And then we're forgotten, Linden!
"Give me a cigarette!" you say, brazenly, commandingly, demandingly.
And I obey!
You're so impatient! I love watching your fragile hands struggle with my strong fingers, trying to pry the treasured tutu from their grasp.
I'm teasing you, Linden!
But it seems this dance is made exclusively for two. We circle each other like two clumsy ships, maneuvering between honesty and truth. You pretend not to hear me, I pretend not to see it. But we speak, and our words are a dance.
You know, Linden, we're bad liars!
Our movements are too uneasy and awkward, as if if you touch me, you'll no longer be able to create distance.
Curiously!
Is that why you fall into the arms of all your partners? To get ahead of them? To be the one who lies? You want an illusion, but there's none between us. They look at you like a mirror, but I look at you through tinted glass.
I see you, Linden! They don't!
You strike a lighter and take a deep drag, relaxing your haggard face.
I admire you and the small, voracious flame, its enthusiasm as it begins to devour the thin layer of paper.
You don't notice it, but we burn just like that, Linden!
Don't ask! I don't know when it happened. Our detective lives were too short and too intense. One day lasted a year, no less. Maybe it happened the day we were looking for Jack, or when we heroically broke into the casino on the island? Maybe I died on that bridge, on the median, and you died in a plane crash, flying on one of those damn flights to Sonoma?
But I'm on fire, Linden! Every damn day!
Skinner's looking at me sideways, you know? Reddick thinks we fuck at night! The others agree! They watch us and see us burning. So I run to Caroline's warm bed to cool off, and you're torn between Cody and James!
We desperately need rain, Linden! That's why we're still in Seattle!
"How's your man doing?" I ask casually, just to start a conversation.
You shake your head because you know I don't need an answer. I talk to Jack more often than you do, and you seem to have come to terms with it, Linden! I could easily have become his dad, or at least his friend! But you deliberately choose cold men! They won't warm your soul, and they won't fulfill a boy's need for a family.
They dream of your panties, Linden! I dream of having breakfast with you and your little hooligan!
Damn! I just realized they're all the bad guys in your story. As if you hate yourself so much that you're forced to surround yourself with only questionable people!
I'm not a bad guy, Linden! So you doubt me?
I'm a drug addict and an unscrupulous thief! I'm pathetic and hopeless! I'm too flawed to be a villain! So why are you so afraid of me? Are you afraid I won't hurt you, and you'll get attached? And if you do, you'll never be able to let go?
It hurts you, Linden! Damn it, it kills me!
I'm dead, you understand? I'm fucking dead to you! You rejected me, covering me with leaves on one of your runs. Because the dead aren't scary! You love solving their riddles and talking to them! That's why you talk to me! Every day in this smoke-filled car, you argue with me, afraid of any sign of life from me. It's easy to love the dead! They're silent and submissive.
That's why your relationship with Rick was doomed long before Rosie died...
He wanted to understand you! I don't want to!
Your connection with Skinner was poisoned for the same reason!
He wanted to control you. I don't want to!
Poor Cody never had a chance!
He wanted to change you! I don't want to!
That's why you circle around me like an undertaker with a shovel? You want to bury our connection every day, and then you come after me again and again while I try to forget with Caroline. I don't blame you! No!
We're both sick, and it looks like it's incurable!
"Stop messing around already!" I say cheerfully, quickly starting the car when I see the cigarette you snatched from me in a fair fight has burned out in your hands, "We have to go!"
You nod slyly in response, giving me a slight smirk. You look at me so openly and with such trust that I can’t help but almost say something stupid out loud.
Yo, Linden! You're on fire today!
I steal a tender glance at you and rise again like a phoenix.
I'm alive, Linden! And I'm desperately waiting for you to realize it!