[attr="class","dibody3"]
Demetri watched her with curious eyes as she leaned back instead of forward. Considering the number of people in the bar not sticking to the six feet distance rule it would have been too late already. If one of them was infected, all of them would be by now. His gaze found a wet spot in the counter in front of him where a glass with ice cubes used to stand just earlier. The cubes had melted as he made no use of them enjoying his bourbon at room temperature. He wiped at it with his thumb, creating a circle in the water. Before he replied to her extraordinary assumption about his occupation he tossed a napkin on it, watching the tissue soak up the moisture. “Close but yet not. Suspended detective would be the right answer.” he said, his lips touching the rim of the glass, pausing to give her a short-lived smirk of approval for the try, before he took a sip, eyes looking at her over the rim. “You did get the law enforcement part right. It's worth a drink of your choice on me.”

The frowny detective let out a “Ha!” at her mention of bringing her to court. He did appreciate her refilling his glass without further comments or orders. “Being a cop comes with a natural dislike of lawyers, prosecutors and judges.” he replied quickly before she continued on. He could immediately count off a batch of foul playing lawyers who would accept bribes to get their clients out of jail, prosecutors who took favors to not approve arrest warrants, judges who would pretend to be neutral but never were. Money was all that counted and Demetri felt like spitting into their faces every time he had to deal with those for his cases.

“I just hope it won't be me you have to do the procedure on.” he chuckled, the alcohol slowly affecting his mood in a more positive way. Demetri hadn’t wholeheartedly laughed in what felt like forever. Not that he was the smiley and laughing type, to begin with, but he was at least capable of doing so - of feeling those emotions of joy. However, ever since Lara had disappeared his joy disappeared with her. Every single day was like torture. Worry, concern, hate would haunt him all day long until he somehow fell asleep. And for those brief moments of sleep where he didn't dream, he could actually enjoy the nothingness embracing him. No thoughts, no dreams, no images of anyone, no voices. Nothing.

He did, however, understood the issue about being short-staffed. The police department was going through the same issue but still, they suspended him. For serious reasons of course, but with all the help they needed, they could have perhaps just downgraded his rank to patrol officer for the time being. But as always, internal affairs was being a pain in the butt.

On the mention of reversing his mistake, he frowned, once again, eyebrows drawn together to hide the pain in his expression. Staring at the bourbon in his glass he gave it a swirl and downed it, one-shotting the full glass, not able to make the words come out of his mouth otherwise. Before he gave her a chance to refill it or finish the new drink she was mixing he grabbed the bottle of bourbon and proceeded to pour himself another glass. This one too disappeared with one gulp, and he poured himself another one. Pushing the bottle away from him and back to her, one side of his lips pulling upwards into a painfully sarcastic smirk. “I don't think reversing my mistake works unless someone knows how to bring back the dead.” he finally managed to say, swallowing hard and washing out words with yet another sip.

He, not so gracefully, put down the glass on the counter. Burying his face in his hands he breathed in deeply - the smell of alcohol, smoke, sweat, and perfume making him want to gag. He didn't. Maybe he already had too many drinks, not having counted the number of glasses he downed already. Pressing his hands hard against his face, then sliding them down, head dropped as he stared at the wooden counter, hazel eyes tracing the cuts and marks made within the time of being used to hold drinks. “The thing is… someone went missing. If they hadn’t done what they did… then it would have been me. It was supposed to be me. I shouldn't be sitting here drinking the sorrow away. I should be the one gone.”

[attr="class","dibody3"]
Last night.

Those two words were burning like acid in his mind and his mouth as he tried to repeat them after her. She went missing for almost three months but here she sat, thinking they were still hanging out together one night ago. "Lara, you went missing for almost 3-" Demetri paused, "-days." he lied and it stung. He had never lied to her before. He never planned on doing it but yet here he was... dishing her one lie after another. "We went drinking and you told me you were getting a cab. I tried calling you the next morning because you didn't come to work but you never answered my calls. We were looking for you... I was looking for you for 3... days."

Is this another one of your jokes?

Demetri leaned back into his seat, both hands grabbing the edge of the table. He frowned at her, holding his breath. His heart was pumping a little faster inside his chest but he wasn’t sure if it was because of the excitement, the adrenaline of the run, anger or frustration. Releasing a breath before glancing over his shoulder towards the mirrored window he scooted forward, hazel eyes looking at her. “Do you really think I would make jokes like this? Of course it’s not funny. It’s not supposed to be funny. It’s not supposed to be a joke Lara-” he said, running a hand through his messy hair.

When she asked for water he rose from his seat, walking over to the door and turning his head to take a look at her. His eyes wandered to the bottle of pills on the table but he didn't question it further, shrugging them off as regular painkillers. He opened the door where someone was already waiting with a bottle of water and a paper cup. "Thanks." he mumbled, taking the things and moving back to the table. He put the glass down in front of her first, unscrewed the bottle and poured in half a glass of water for her before placing down the open bottle on the table.

"Look..." he started, burying his lower face in his hand. "About being infected-" This wasn't going to make sense. He mentally slapped himself before sitting up straight. "What else do you remember other than friday night?" he asked, observing her carefully as she took the pills. Perhaps this was going to turn into an involuntary interrogation - an unofficial one considering the fact he was still suspended and didn't hold any rights to do so. But he wanted answers, no, he needed answers - and Lara was the one holding the key to those answers.

[attr="class","dibody3"]
“Lara... is here.”

Lara. His heart dropped when he heard her name being mentioned. He swallowed hard - or tried to at least - his mouth suddenly feeling as dry as a desert, his throat burning - as if he just swallowed a handful of sand. His hazel eyes darted back and forth as he tried to let the news sink in but it was more difficult than anything has ever been. For some reason hearing someone say she’s alive was far worse than hearing someone say she’s dead. God, he couldn’t even bear to think about it. Demetri was sure the sentence would end with ‘... her body was found.’ Alive, alive, alive… the words repeated inside his mind over and over again. Alive.

As soon as the call ended, and he ended it rather quickly to get going, he shoved his phone into the front pocket of his pants, grabbed his jacket and rushed out of the door. The news itself sounded fake… he wasn’t even sure if this wasn’t some sort of dark prank. He had checked the calendar just to make sure it wasn’t April Fools day.

It wasn’t.

So he ran, and ran, and ran. At this moment he couldn’t care less if his throat was burning, if he was feeling dizzy because he hadn’t ran this hard in a long time but he willed his legs to keep going as far as he needed them to go - and that was the police department. His apartment wasn’t too far away from work but it took a while. He skipped taking the subway because the next one was going to arrive in an hour and he just couldn’t wait that long. There were no cabs available nearby either so all he could do was run as fast as he could.

By the time he arrived at the building his legs almost gave up on him but he continued on. There was a small crowd of officers pooling around the reception desk, looking at him and whispering, but he shut them out and just jogged to his former unit’s office. “Where?” was the only word he asked and needed. The other detective nodded towards the interrogation room. Drawing his eyebrows together in confusion he walked over to door but was stopped right in front of it. “You can’t go in there yet.” he was told and lead into the other part of the room where he was able to see her through the window. He could see her… but he didn’t want to believe his eyes. She looked just the same. There was nothing off about here. No injuries, no marks, no sign of going through a traumatic experience. No sign of being kidnapped or disappearing. She looked just like Lara. The Lara he knew, his partner Lara, Detective Lara Shaw.


He pinched himself in the arm, just to make sure this wasn’t just another dream - one he had dreamed too often and always woke up disappointed, sad and angry. Angry at her, angry at him, angry at everyone. “Why? And why the hell is she in there?” he demanded to know, a little furious about it. “She’s not a criminal you need to interrogate or keep locked up. She doesn’t deserve this treatment.” he said, watching her through the window. “I know but we just want to be careful. We don’t know what happened. We are simply waiting for orders.”

“To hell with orders. She’s part of our team. She is…” he swallowed before correcting himself, “was a missing person case not a fugitive.” he growled, turned around and was about to open the door when the detective said “Don’t… get too excited about her return.” Ignoring that advise or whatever it was he left the room and moved over to the entrance door of the interrogation room. The room where she was - alive and breathing. His hand hovered over the door handle. Suddenly he wasn’t so sure if he really wanted to open it, to see what’s behind… if it was indeed reality or just another nightmare. With a heavy sigh he gripped the door handle hard, pushing it down and swinging the door open. He kept his eyes lowered on the floor before mustering up the courage to lift them slowly, so slowly, until he was looking at her. Alive.

Demetri didn’t dare to blink as he mustered her, afraid she might vanish again if he did - but there she was, sitting in that chair. How high were the chances of someone who was believed gone to return? Almost zero. Her case got put to the cold case files after two weeks - more than other people were granted. 72 hours. The worst 72 hours of his entire life. He didn’t sleep, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything properly. He was allowed to help with the investigation but after they failed he was suspended immediately. But there she was… right in front of him - just a few steps away.

“Lara?” he said, almost a whisper.

[attr="class","dibody3"]
He exchanged his empty glass with the new one she had pushed over towards him. His eyes rested on the glass for a moment before he let out a heavy sigh. Fingers tapping the clear, solid material as he thought. "I don’t think there will be enough bourbon." he finally said, taking a sip of his drink, his gaze wandering towards the already half empty bottle. Nope, definitely not enough. He downed the second shot awaiting him and grimaced ever so slightly as it left a burn down his throat. The first one went down smooth, the second one not so much. "And to be honest I’m a little paranoid talking to strangers. No offense. Comes with the job." he added with a shrug, as if he didn’t care - well, no, he actually didn’t care. He wasn’t one to talk to anyone about anything to begin with. He never quite understood people talking to their hairdressers about their lives. People nowadays and just really always had been giving their personal information to others recklessly all the time - and that’s how a lot ended up being a case for him.

Even if he would be willing to talk to someone - anyone really - about his problems… where would he start? Was there even a beginning of it all? Maybe there was. Maybe it was his stupidness causing all the problems he accumulated. But maybe he wasn’t as much at fault as he thought he was. The risk that came with the job was always there, accompanying them daily, but it just happened to hit his close circle - and it hit hard. All those times an officer lost his partner, a district his man, a wife her husband or husband his wife… it never felt like something that would happen to him because it never did - until now. Demetri wasn’t used to losing someone. The one time he had lost his parents as they were arrested and send to jail was more of a relief than anything else. The few break ups he went through? Over in a breeze. It was always him ending it and he would just burry himself in work to get distracted. There never was someone he really felt attached to anyway.

"How about a thought for a thought?" he offered, lifting his head to look at her in front of him. "I’ll tell you something about my problems in return for one of yours. Just to be fair you know. I don’t like revealing something about myself without any benefits." Hazel eyes fixed on her face, he returned the initial smirk she gave him. He quickly took another sip of the bourbon before parting his lips ever so slightly to think a moment about what to tell her without being too direct. "I lost my job because of a mistake I made. Well, technically I didn’t lose it entirely but I’m suspended. So I spend my free time in bars like this, brooding."

[attr="class","dibody3"]
Maybe, just maybe, if he was going to be stuck in the bathroom for longer than a couple of minutes it would be better if she indeed called the police. It might be very much embarrassing but at least they could get him out of there. “I’m not sick sick, you know. I just had one… or maybe five drinks too many last night. But I’m not infected if you think so. So please, please-” he tried to explain and lightly punched the door. “-let me out!” He tried turning the door knob again a couple of times, maybe whatever she used to block the door would budge a little so he could open it. When she stopped replying he put his ear to the door, trying to listen to whatever was going on outside after he mentioned the burnt smell. “Hey? Hey! What’s going on?” he called, only hearing footsteps walking back and forth until the sound approached the door.

Demetri barely managed to jump out of the way as the door swung open without a warning. The blonde rushed past him without paying him any attention and grabbed the fire distinguisher. Who keeps a fire distinguisher in their bathroom? His eyes followed her out but he didn’t move. It was when the smoke alarm went off that he decided to check out whatever mess she got herself - or the two of them - into.

Demetri had to double check the fire in the kitchen. His eyes narrowed at the small flames rising from the floor, black smoke swirling up to the ceiling. “Goddamnit. Really?” he growled and let out a heavy sigh, feeling the need to facepalm himself for the stupidity of the blonde. It may have been partly his fault too but that wasn’t an issue to think about now. He watched her fumbling around with the extinguisher and rolled his eyes when she couldn’t open the nozzle. He walked over to where she was standing, grabbed the extinguisher out of her hands. However, he failed too, to open it and getting it to work. Something must be wrong with it.

He cursed under his breath and dropped it before turning around. Glancing around her apartment all he could see were the books - fuel for the fire. Insert mental eye roll. Nothing that could somewhat help. He spotted a blanket. His eyes darted between the blanket and the fire but it was already growing too big for the blanket to work on it. He had already grabbed it, clenching his fist around it trying to stifle a cough. He was about to throw it back on the couch when he noticed her seeming to panic. So instead of throwing the blanket over the fire he threw it over the blonde - hoping it would calm her down if she didn’t see the mess. It works with animals, maybe it would work with humans too. If not then at least it would keep her from inhaling too much smoke.

But if this was the same building as his apartment there must be… without giving it another thought he moved over to her apartment door, opened it and looked outside. Ha. It was his building. Hazel eyes paused on the door on the opposite of hers. What a joke. 107. Apartment 107 was his own. Either way he didn’t have much time to think about the mistake his drunken self made the night before. His eyes darted to the left and he spotted what he was looking for at the end of the hallway. Another fire extinguisher. Demetri never thought about getting himself one for inside his apartment until a friend’s neighbor managed to set fire in her apartment and fortunately they were able to prevent the worse from happening. Ever since then he decided to get one for himself just in case.

He jogged down the hallway, ignoring the people peeking out of their doors to see what’s going on, the fact he was half naked and the leftover headache he was still battling with. Ripping out the red bottle, double the size than the one in her apartment, and carried it back over to the fire. Poor bacon. What a waste of food, he thought. The fire already spread a little more due to the grease spitting out of the baking sheet. It was quite hot in front of it but nevertheless he positioned himself near the fire, still keeping a safe distance. He pulled the pin, aimed and squeezed the handles, distributing the white powder all over the kitchen. It didn’t take long until her kitchen turned into a snowless winter wonderland. The damage beneath wasn’t visible but half of the kitchen was probably not really usable anymore.

Demetri coughed, putting down the used fire extinguisher before he took a look at the mess. “Well, I’m not going to clean this.” he said, coughing some more as he turned around to talk to her. “You might need to leave your apartment for some time.” he told her before walking over to one of the windows and opened it. “My apartment is right across yours, since you wouldn’t believe me, if you want to stay there and not go outside.” he clicked his tongue as he glanced at her, remembering she was wearing pyjamas while working his way to the other window to open it, sliding over some of the books on the floor. "I also have bacon." he mocked her, glancing at the kitchen or whatever was left of it.