Jonathan’s POV

 

Gotham Hall, lit up in the colours of the NYPD and this year, the FDNY. It’s truly a sight to behold. I look forward to this event every year. Though I don’t remember last years, I do remember the years prior, and I always have a good time. This year will be even better celebrating with our fellow FDNY brothers and sisters. Yes, we have a rivalry but when it comes to the crunch, we are there for each other and If I’m honest, we couldn’t do our jobs without them. They have been crucial in helping to solve a lot of crimes quickly. They know the roots of this city.

Walking into the foyer, I instantly stopped in my tracks. Immediately in front of me, looming over the entrance to the hall, stood two large skeleton trees lit up by blue fairy lights. They would alternate between red, white, and blue in one clean transition. Every branch looked aged like they had seen better days. I know that when NYPD put things like these up, they are using it as a metaphor. Everyone that saw them, and walked under them would interpret them in a different way. But, for me, these trees represented the years of growth, progress, learning, loss, and achievements for not only my department but the entirety of the NYPD and the FDNY.

I stand in awe for a few moments, watching them change colours and enjoying the feeling of being grounded. Since I got back, the world has felt like it’s spinning out of control, like the ground is falling out from underneath my feet. But right now, the ground is settling, and I’ll take it even if it’s just for tonight.

“Ahhhh there’s the man I was looking for.” I hear my captain’s voice boom from beside me, striding towards me.

“Captain,” My voice sounds surprised as I turn on my heel, facing him.

“Come, I’d like you to meet someone.” He shoots me a knowing look.

Resting his hand on my shoulder he guides me over to a group of people standing to the side, chatting amongst themselves.

“Deputy Commissioner Riley, this is Detective Jonathan Harris.”

Deputy Commissioner! My brows shot up in confusion as I tried not to spit out the real question I had and that was, “What happened to Sienna’s father?”.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Detective. I’ve heard great things about you,” she said, expressionless.

Commissioner Riley is in full NYPD dress uniform, hair tightly pulled back into a bun, no make-up with an air of confidence swirling around her. To say I was intimidated by this woman would be an understatement.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Commissioner Riley.” I shake her waiting hand, palms sweating. “And I hope it was all good things.” My eyes flick from her to Captain Holton.

“Of course, detective.” She smiled.

Relief washed over me. Whenever you meet the commissioner or their deputy, it’s not because you’re doing a good job, it’s because you’ve fucked up and are about to have your balls raked over hot coals.

The commissioner turns to the others standing in the circle and dismisses them before fixing her gaze back on me.

“I wanted to let you know that my predecessor and his daughter will be dealt with swiftly.” She emphasised, “swiftly” then mouthed, “I know everything.”

I look at captain Holton who smiles and gives me a pat on the back.

“I- thank you, both of you,” I reply, feeling the weight instantly fall from my shoulders.

“It’s my pleasure, detective. Now, go and enjoy your night.” The commissioner smiled at me.

“I will,” I smile back at her. “I’ll chat with you later?” I ask, turning to Captain Holton.

“Sure, son.” He nods, smiling.

The NYPD had gone to extreme lengths to create quite a utopia inside the hall. The room alternated between blue and red lights that illuminated the doom above us. The seating around me is block armchairs and lounges that are lit up white just enough for you to see them and not interfere with the backing lights. On each table is a vase with skeleton trees covered in fairy lights with each table having its own colour. They give off a very eerie feeling like you’re in a dead forest but one that springs to life if you watch closely. Littering the floor are black lanterns lighting your path to the stage, bars, and dance floor. Serving staff are weaving their way through the many bodies standing around chatting or dancing. The atmosphere is electric, filled with sparks and delights.

My first stop tonight will be the bar. Though a massive weight has been lifted from my shoulders tonight, Camilla is playing heavily on my mind. My heart feels heavy in my chest and my stomach is still in knots.

Walking up to the bar, I flag down a bartender.

“What can I get you, sir?” The bartender asks.

“Whiskey, neat,” I reply, leaning against the bar.

“Right away, sir,” he says, disappearing down the end of the bar.

As I wait, I take a moment to look around the room to see if Anthony or Es have arrived yet. A lot of my colleagues are here but none I really have friendships with, more acquaintances.

I wonder if Camilla will be here, I think to myself. Deep down I know she’s not here but I can’t help but still look for her.

“Here’s your drink, sir,” he says, placing it on the coaster in front of me.

“Thanks.” I nod to him.

“My pleasure, sir,” he replies.

I knock it back, revelling in the burn it gives me. Perhaps a couple of these will dull my mind and heart.

As I go to order myself another, a quiet voice from further down the bar asks, “Rough night?”

“Rough couple of months,” I reply, gesturing to the bartender for another whiskey.

“Well, you know what they say, ‘A drink a day keeps the sadness at bay.’”

“And what makes you think I’m trying to keep something at bay?” I turn to the side to see who it is I’m speaking to.

I’m instantly hit by how beautiful the woman is that’s standing at the end of the bar. Her floor-length burgundy dress sits perfectly on her body, giving any red-blooded male a view of the spectacular curves hidden just underneath. Every inch of her scream’s elegance; from the sliver necklaces that hang effortlessly around her neck, to her hair that flows in a kind of beachy wave over her shoulder, coming to rest on her collarbone.

“No one orders a whiskey neat if they’re not keeping some kind of emotion at bay,” she smirks, bringing her wine glass to her lips.

“And what is it you think I’m keeping at bay?” I ask with curiosity.

“Sorrow,” she replies rather quietly, her words filled with knowing.

“Close,” I sigh. “Try loss, heartbreak and anger with a slight tinge of jealousy.” I turn back to the bar, picking my drink up and downing it again in one gulp.

“Would you like to talk about it?” She asks softly.

“Another whiskey neat, mate,” I tell the bartender as he catches my eye again. “It’s- complicated” I reply, turning back to her.

“Love always is,” she says with an air of experience behind her.

We both stand in silence, letting the words neither of us wanted to say aloud float between us. It was nice to not be alone in this feeling. To have someone, even if they were a stranger, understand the depths of my despair my soul is living in.

“We Found Love,” I breathe out as I hear Rihanna’s voice echo’s around me.

Go figure, I think to myself as I look down at my glass of whiskey contemplating downing this one as well.

“Pardon?” She shouts over the beat.

“Nothing, just talking to myself,” I shout back.

“Well, I’m Hannah, but my friends call me Han.” She smiles warmly, offering me her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Hannah. I’m Jonathan,” I reply, downing my whiskey.

“Nice to meet you too, Jonathan,” Hannah says, turning and waving the bartender down.

“Jon, call me Jon. Everyone else does.”

“Ok, Jon,” she replies playfully.

“So, I’m going to take a wild guess and say you’re from the UK.”

“I am, good guess.” Hannah smiles, picking up her glass.

“What brings you to the Big Apple, Han?” I ask.

“Well, a few things. Good and bad.” She replies, her hazel eyes piercing into me.

“I’m going to take a leap and say that the bad is heartbreak,” I reply.

“And you would be correct.” Her eyes move off mine and to the busying people.

“I’m sorry.” Those were the only words that I could think of to say and if I was being honest, they never helped me and probably won’t help her either.

“It is what it is.” Her words were filled with resignation.

“Tell me about the good,” I shift the conversation swiftly.

“I’ve been picked up by a publisher and they are going to publish my poetry,” Hannah beams. “My heartbreak and love are apparently in high demand,” her words dripping with sarcasm.

The moment she said those words my mind went straight to Camilla. I wondered if she had been involved, had she proofread it. I knew she loved poetry, and I knew this would be something she would want to read. I wondered if she had smiled while reading or if she felt pain reading the heartbreak I knew was inside. I felt my heart tighten like someone had reached into my chest and squeezed it.

Before I could say anything, I see her attention taken and she places her empty glass down and says, “Anyway, I better get back to my brother, he currently shooting daggers at me.” Hannah giggles. “Have a good evening, Jon.”

“Yeah, you too, Han.” I smile softly at her.

I watch as she disappears into the crowd. Turning back to the bar, I grab one of the many glass bottles filled with water and pour myself one. The water doesn’t give me the desired effect I was hoping it would, but at this point, nothing other than whiskey would do that.

Don’t get drunk, Jon, my inner voice warns.

“When have I ever listened to you?” I mumble under my breath, flagging the bartender down again.

Of course, the moment I want to continue my reckless behaviour, my outside conscience shows up.

“Jonathan, my brother, my man, my better half!” Anthony shouts, slapping me on the back, almost spilling my whiskey and breaking the very expensive glass it is in. “Don’t tell Es I said that she’ll claw my eyes out,” he whispers in my ear, chuckling. “Hey, I’m going to need an old-fashioned and mocktail, preferably a sweet fruity one. Thanks, man,” Anthony calls to the bartender.

“You almost spilled my drink, you asshole,” I grumble, turning to him.

“I think you’ve had enough of those, brother,” Anthony says, taking my drink from my hand and placing it on a passing tray.

“Is that your opinion as a friend or a police officer?”

“Both,” he winks at me.

“Right,” I roll my eyes. “Where is your better half?”

“Es made a beeline for the buffet table the moment we walked in. The woman could eat an entire horse and still be hungry.” He chuckles.

“Don’t let her hear you say that,” I chuckle.

“You heard nothing and if you say anything I will deny I ever knew you,” He shakes his finger at me.

“I’m the only one that can get away with that memory loss here, brother. But I’ll keep that in mind.” I smirk at him.

“True,” he smirks, reaching behind me and grabbing his drink. “So, how are you? Have you been able to remember anything?”

“It’s mostly fragmented. I’m writing everything down and working through it with Mahoganie.”

“That’s awesome news, brother.” Anthony takes a sip of his drink. “How are things, feelings wise going? Are you making ground?”

“It’s slow, really slow,” I replied, looking over Anthony’s shoulder, my attention caught by something red.

The air was immediately ripped from my lungs when I realised what it was that had caught my attention. It was her; it was Camilla. She was standing near meters from me; a bright, red beacon, a siren calling to me. I couldn’t help but let my eyes devour her body from head to toe. Her dress, red and flowing, clung to every curve, cutting low at the base of her back. The way her hair fell over her shoulders as she glanced around the room looking nervous and fidgeting with her dress. She was trying her best to look confident in a room full of men and their very expensive suits. What she didn’t realise is none of them held a candle to her. Camilla was exquisite. A true angel.

From the corner of my eye, I see a man approach her. Dean. Of course, she’s here with him. I felt the bitter bite of jealousy fill my entire being. He walked up to her and, handing Camilla her drink, leaned in, his hand snaking around her waist, coming to rest on the small of her back, pulling her in. She quickly places her drink down, resting one hand on his arm and the other on his shoulder and leans into him. After a few moments, Camilla looks up at Dean and begins to laugh as he pulls away and watches her intently.

My chest tightens.

What the fuck? I thought to myself, but it wasn’t to myself. I had inadvertently said it aloud.

I felt Anthony’s hand grab my shoulder and hold it tightly.

“Don’t go over there, Jonathan,” He warned.

“I can’t stand here and watch the love of my life with another man. I can’t!” I snap back, eyeing his hand up on my shoulder.

“Think about what you’re doing. If you go up to her now in the state you’re in, you will ruin whatever ground you have gained,” he replied, removing his hand.

“Fuck the ground, Anthony!” I shout.

My voice had been loud enough for the people around us to stop their conversations and look in our direction. That included Camilla.

 

Camilla’s POV

 

I knew that voice anywhere. It cut through the people like a blade. My eyes immediately found him and his mine. My stomach dropped, and the room instantly felt like a small bird box. I needed to get out, process my thoughts and centre myself.

“Dean,” my words come out hurriedly.

“What did you say?” Dean shouts, putting his drink down.

“I’m feeling a little hot, do you mind if I just pop outside for a moment and get some air?”

“Of course, darlin.” He smiles at me. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, no, I’ll only be a few moments,” I reassure him.

“Are you ok?” He looks down at me concerned.

“I’m fine,” I smile up at him.

“Ok, don’t be too long. I’m feeling rather objectified by all the women looking at me tonight.”

Faking a smile and a giggle, I turn quickly and make a beeline for the big gold doors. Walking swiftly in heels is quite the talent. One I have mastered over the years, but dodging people is something I hadn’t mastered until tonight. I felt quite proud of myself for not spilling anyone’s drinks or having to apologise for my face-planting into someone’s back. However, that was short-lived. As the doorman opened the door and the fresh air of freedom hit my face, I felt a hand grab my arm.

“CAMILLA! STOP!” Jonathan’s voice boomed through the foyer behind me.

I tear my arm from his grip and fasten my pace for the outside. Jonathan’s pace quickens behind me in an effort to catch me. For a moment I feel my resolution wavier, with every step my feet want me to turn back.

“DON’T WALK AWAY FROM ME, CAMILLA!” He commands just as I go to push the doors open.

Stopping in my tracks, I turn slowly towards him. Jonathan had never spoken to me like that. He has never raised his voice at me. It scared me but only for a moment before a mixture of embarrassment and anger rose in my stomach. How dare he start this shit here, in front of everyone and on Dean’s night.

“WHAT! WHAT DO YOU WANT?” I yell at him, storming towards him.

“You and Dea-“

I cut him off. “NO! Don’t soften your words now, Jonathan. You have my full attention, along with everyone else at the gala.” I point behind him. “So, SPEAK!” I shout, coming to a stop in front of him.

The ushers approach but I wave them off. I can handle this on my own. If Maplewood taught me anything, it was to speak up and be the strong woman I am.

Jonathan looks at me, anger and confusion litter his features.

“Just as I thought,” I huff, frustrated. “Have a good night, Jonathan.” My words are cold as I brush past Jonathan and head back to the Gala.

Fuck the air, I think to myself.

“Camilla!” He commands, grabbing my arm again.

This time he spins me around and presses me hard against the cold marble of Gotham Hall.

“I can’t watch you walk away from me again. I won’t do it.” Jonathan’s tone was stern, almost commanding in a sexy as fuck kind of way.

I know. I know this isn’t the time or place, but I can’t help what my girl downstairs likes.

“That’s rich,” I replied, sarcastically rolling my eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, Camilla.” His grip tightens on my arm.

“I need to know. Are you and Dean…” he pauses for a moment, anger flicking through his eyes.

“Fucking?” I finish his question as bluntly as I can.

Jonathan’s eyes narrow at me. “Yes, for lack of a better term.”

I smirk at his discomfort and, to be honest, Jonathan has never been the jealous type. So, I’m going to enjoy this.

“What’s it to you?” I reply, shrugging my shoulders.

“Camilla,” he warns, tugging at me.

I pull my arm from his grip. Watching as his face switches between concern and back to jealousy.

“Do you know what it does to me every second I’m not near you? The man I am without you is broken, jealous and angry” His hands slide gently up the sides of my cheeks. “I can’t sleep without you. I spend my nights pacing my apartment running over everything that has happened since that night. I can’t breathe, I have forgotten what it’s like to exist without you. I’m unfocused, I can’t eat and, everywhere I go, I look for you. Nothing makes sense anymore. And the crushing pain I feel in my chest, I can’t make it stop. It won’t stop.” Jonathan’s words dripped with pain. “You own me, Camilla. Do you understand that? Nothing on this earth is harder than knowing that another man could be sharing your bed, making you laugh, making you happy and my worst fear of all is you loving him.” He pauses for a moment. “I know you don’t trust me; I know.” Jonathan moves closer, his lips now only inches from mine. “But I love you.” I feel his lips graze my jaw as he makes his way to my ear. “You are the love of my life, Camilla” He whispers softly. “I need another chance, give me another chance.” Jonathan pulls away slowly, sweeping the tears from my cheeks.

Art by @dragon_and_direwolf