The Answer Within
by Pic
Rated: T or mild M for language and references to sexual conduct of het and slash nature
Pairing: Ricky Caruso/other who is actually, in fact, nameless
Summary: Ricky is in a situation and trying to figure out what to do and talking to himself (sort of).
Disclaimer: Recognizable character isn't mine.
Author's notes: This story was written for Ursula in gratitude for procurement and provision of a certain article that got a lot of hype on the Zone last weekend and she graciously agreed to posting to the list at large. Thanks as always to Missy for wading through this with good humor and an eye toward characterization. As to where the idea came from, your guess is as good as mine.
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When did this happen? And how? How, for Christ's sake? This isn't in the Ricky Caruso program. Not by a long, an extra long or any other kind of shot. How do other people deal with this shit, anyway? They must get drunk. That's the only thing that makes even a little bit of sense here.
Hmm? What do you want? You're the one that got me into this mess in the first place.
Yeah, mess. That's what I said. A big genuine, first rate, extremely messy … mess.
Don't change the subject. I don't know and I don't care how many other guys argue with their own libido.
I'm not talking to my dick! You're my libido and the prime suspect relating to this … this issue. Don't you forget it.
Damn straight I'll have it my way. I'm in charge here, ya know.
That's really funny. Don't quit your day job, ok?
What's the problem? You have to ask!
Well, look at her. Just look. Closer. She's got tears in her eyes. Real ones, not those crocodile tears grandma used to accuse me of crying when she reached into the cookie jar to give me something to make the hurt go away. How the hell do I make her hurt go away? If I offer her a cookie, she'll kick my ass.
I am not too cheap to pay for dessert! It's just that more wine seems a whole lot more appealing right now. To me, anyway.
Who are you calling a coward? There's nothing wrong with admitting that you have no idea what to do when your girlfriend is on the verge of crying in her favorite restaurant. And drowning problems in alcohol has a proven track record. Centuries of success.
Yeah, my girlfriend. You got a problem with that?
Girlfriend. Lover. Whatever.
Well, no, they're not exactly the same thing, but …
So you're interrupting now, is that it? So full of wit and wisdom that you can't wait to interject. Full of shit is more like it.
Christ! Shut up with that. You take the conversation from shit to … to that at a time like this? I've told you. I won't give it up to that guy, no matter how "cute" you seem to think he is. Can't you be serious? She's gonna cry. What'll we do then?
We will? No, we won't. I mean, I won't.
Why not? Well, because … I mean … What do I mean? I know what I mean. I don't say things like that.
I don't!
Look. Just because we've had some fun together over the last couple of months …
Has it been that long? No way, she just moved into town last … spring. Oh, yeah, I guess it's been about a year that I've known her, but ...
We had sex for the first time watching fireworks on the 4th of July. What's your point?
Describe it? The sex? That particular time? Why should I?
You want me to humor you? Don't I do enough of that?
Fine. If that's the way you want to be. It was … intense. Seriously intense. Other people close but too far away to bother us. I could see the points of light from the fireworks in her eyes while we did it and starlight after everything was over.
What else about after? Oh, yeah, Scalli. I remember, he was wandering around to keep the peace as if the kids were actually gonna put those M-80s away and stick to sparklers.
Huh? More seriously? You think?
Well, maybe he did take me a little more seriously after seeing me stargazing with her. A sophisticated lady moved up from the city would impress him, I guess.
We were!
We'd been stargazing, then, if you want to be particular. And, ok, we were making out when he showed up. The Commish just wanted to embarrass me a little because I maneuvered to get that night off when just about everyone else was on duty. Remember when she stood, looked him square in the eye and told him we were waiting for the traffic to ease up. No way he didn't notice that her shirt was buttoned wrong but he didn't have the guts to say anything. Not to her.
She accused me of doing it on purpose, yeah, but I didn't.
Yep, she glared at me all the way home.
And right, straight into bed. Yeah, that's all true, but it's history. There're tears in those gorgeous eyes right now. Let's focus on one thing at a time, ok?
You are focused? Uh huh. Could've fooled me.
And what's that supposed to mean?
Ha ha. Very funny. Sure, we've had great sex. No question. I've got no problem admitting that. But it's not like it's been exclusive or anything.
Over the last few months? Um … well, there was … ah … um … Francesca. Yeah, Francesca was totally hot.
November? Are you sure?
Ok. Ok. Maybe it was a Halloween to Veteran's Day fling. Um … what about … ah … Kelly? Er, no, it was Kimberly. Yeah, Kim was sweet.
Labor Day picnic. Oh yeah. Right. Kim got the cops eating hotdogs experience.
Hmm? I don't take her to department stuff because … just because. Besides, she doesn't want to hang out with a bunch of cops.
She makes an exception for me, smart ass.
This isn't about sharing. Or hiding anything from the guys. She's … well, she's separate from work, ok? What's wrong with that?
Good. Now …
Don't bring up the Christmas party. We agreed that was off limits.
It's only pertinent in your warped worldview.
The only thing that made your brilliant idea fly was that I'd had way too much to drink. I couldn't look him in the eye for weeks after that.
I did not lead him on! All I did was - oh, never mind. You're no help. You never are.
Oh, for … He didn't ruin other women for me. It's just been a little slow this year. That's all. Probably all your fault, too!
How do I feel? Weren't we talking about blame and where it should be laid? Don't even go there. I'm warning you.
Ok, you win this one. I have to let you, now and then, right? How do I feel about what?
How the hell do you think I feel about her crying? I feel like shit. No one remotely normal likes to see anyone cry.
Specifically? Kind of sick to my stomach. Why?
Give it a rest. There's nothing funny about feeling sick.
What's so fucking funny?
Excuse me?
You're nuts! Absolutely, positively nuts! I am not!
C'mon, get real. What's love anyway?
Love is not feeling sick to your stomach when your girlfriend …
Ok, lover. When your lover starts to cry. Um … is it?
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
Lose the taking it up the ass commentary. Why are you so damn sure that I'd forget her if I let him fuck me? Get off that, will ya?
Those are the alternatives as you see them, huh? Excuse me for thinking there've got to be a few more.
I am thinking. What do you think I'm doing?
Forget I asked. Let's get back on topic. Why the hell is she crying?
Oh.
I get it. I get it.
But why shouldn't I be talking to you? She's the one that drove me to it.
She threw me with that "I love you, Ricky," crap. Looking at me all sincere and everything. What did she expect? An immediate, knee-jerk …
Well, maybe, yeah. But …
I heard you. I did! Sick to my stomach. Check. Exclusive since Thanksgiving. Check. Separate from work. Check. Want to dive across the table and kiss her until she forgets everything but my name. Check. Just … just back off for a minute. Or ten.
We've talked through the coward issue and quashed that rumor. Remember?
Take a deep breath? Ok.
I'm getting ready to spit it out. I am! I just need a few more deep breaths. That's all.
There's no danger of hyperventilation.
Or passing out. For Christ's sake, shut up and let me think.
I can do without the sarcasm, too.
"Hey," Ricky whispered, reaching across the small table to catch the tear that had leaked from the young woman's eye. "Let's have some more wine, ok?"
"Why?"
Relying on the wide, playful grin that had never once failed him with a female of the species, Ricky met her sad, increasingly resigned eyes with twinkling ones of his own. "Because I love you, too."
Startled wasn't the reaction he expected. Nor had he anticipated the warmth that flowed through him when she smiled or for it to be followed so quickly by the searing heat that accompanied her sliding stocking-clad toes underneath the cuff of his khaki pants to stroke his calf.
"God," he groaned softly, swallowing with difficulty as she licked her lips and regarded him through heavily lidded eyes.
Regaining his composure and reaching for her hand, he murmured, "I have it on good authority that being a little nauseous at times like this is a sure sign."
When she stuck her tongue out at him, everything settled in Ricky's world, making him realize that his admission did not signal the end of life as he knew it, but the beginning.
The End
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