A Lonely Place

George slowly stirred his coffee. He brought the spoon up, then plunged it back down, over and over. He stared at his hand making the motion.

He felt dead. Seventy-two hours on duty, with a grand total of 3 hours of bad sleep.

"I'm getting too old for this," he said. He dropped the spoon into the coffee, and rubbed his hands over his face and through his curly brown hair.

"Something wrong with the coffee?" asked the diner waitress, snapping her gum. George let his hands fall to the table.

"No, coffee's fine, thanks," he said wearily. The waitress walked away. George stared out the window at the street.

Another waitress came by a few minutes later with his toast and eggs. She plunked the plate down in front of him. George nodded his thanks. He picked up his fork, diving into his eggs when he noticed the waitress was staring at him. He stared back, chewing.

"Don't you remember me?" she asked with a coy smile. George looked at her nametag. Angela. He rolled the name around in his tired brain. Nothing. He swallowed his eggs loudly. She was pretty, too. Shit.

"No, sorry, I don't," he went back to his food, then dropped his fork with a clatter, and looked up at her again. "Should I, Angela?"

Angela's face had fallen slightly. "Well, you should," she said. She leaned close to George's ear. "My name's not Angela. It's Carmen. And I know that you have a scar on your left hip, a long thin one," she whispered. Her breath ruffled the hair on his temple. She straightened.

George's stomach dropped. He took a closer look at Angela/ Carmen. He recognized her now. Her hair was shorter and lighter brown, and she had put on some weight. She looked a lot healthier than the last time he saw her.

"Hello, Carmen," he said cautiously.

"Hello, Patrick," Carmen said. Her face regained its smile.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK,

George thought. She thought he was Patrick. Christ, he didn't need this right now.

"Uh, Carmen," he started to say. She slid into the seat across from him. He felt her foot deftly slide up the inside of his leg, to his groin. George grunted, reached down and gripped her ankle hard. Carmen smiled wickedly, taunting him.

"Been awhile, hasn't it, Patrick? Oh, don't worry, I have no hard feelings," she said. She pressed her foot forward, against his cock. George was too exhausted, and too pissed, to respond. His grip tightened.

"It has, Carmen," he practically spat.

"Touchy aren't we? No big deal." Carmen pulled her leg back. George released her ankle, as she knew he would. "But then, you always had a bit of a temper. I liked you anyway. You were different from all the other thugs I ran with. I knew you would never hurt me." The smile had left. She studied George carefully, a serious look settling on her face. George had forgotten that Carmen often showed more bravado than she actually felt. He relaxed a little.

"Listen, Carmen, we really can't-"

"Pick up where we left off? Never expected us to," she interrupted.

"Angela! Get a move on! Customers are waiting!" yelled a female voice from behind the counter. Carmen rolled her eyes and stood.

"Stick around for half an hour, and we can talk more. If you want," she said. George saw lines in her forehead and around her eyes that hadn't been there two years ago. She looked as weary as he felt.

"Yeah. I'd like that," he said.

Carmen walked off, patting his shoulder as she walked by.

Without much choice in the matter, he was going to be Patrick again.

Half an hour later, Carmen came back George's booth, where he was nursing his third cup of coffee. She jerked her head towards the door, and walked out, swinging a long coat on over her waitress uniform. George grabbed his leather jacket and followed.

"There's a park nearby, that has one of those outdoor theatre things. It's usually quiet," she said once they were outside the diner.

"Yeah, sounds great," George said. He walked along side Carmen, hands shoved in his coat pockets. Carmen lit up a cigarette, and hunched against the stiff autumn breeze.

They walked in silence to the park. The sun had begun to set over the trees as they trudged along the broken path of stones to the outdoor theatre. By the time they got out to their destination, twilight had settled over them, and Carmen had smoked three cigarettes.

She sat down on the lowest bench, looking up at George. He wasn't sure what to say now that they were alone. He scuffed his sneaker toe on the ground, kicking up some dirt. Carmen patted the bench next to her.

"I don't bite," she said kindly. "And I won't molest you again, unless you want me to."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

George sat down next to Carmen. The silence stretched on for a few more minutes.

"So... why Angela?" he finally asked lamely. Carmen snickered.

"I needed an new identity. I couldn't continue being Carmen Ruiz, not after Tommy Callaghan and all them went down. Not all of the gang was thrown in prison, there were still some smaller fish still swimming around that might still want a piece of me. I barely wiggled free of the mess by rolling on the entire gang. I had wanted out for a while anyway. After the trial, I picked a name that had a measure of irony and moved on with my life. Thankfully, the smaller fish are too dumb, or really just don't care enough, to find me."

"I'd bet on dumb before apathy," George said. "There's a reason they were small fish. They haven't managed to get the gang back together. Too many squabbles, and too much machismo."

"Where did you go, Patrick? I mean, you just up and disappeared right before the raid. Did you know the Feds were coming after us?" Carmen narrowed her eyes and looked at George shrewdly.

He sighed heavily. "Nah, I got picked up the day before. Unrelated charges, until some blabbermouth in the jail said something about seeing me with Tommy. They had me between a rock and a hard place. I had to turn," George lied. He watched Carmen out of the corner of his eye to see if she bought it. She shrugged.

"Doesn't much matter now, I guess. We're both out of the life. You are out, aren't you?" Carmen asked, alarmed.

"Yes, Carmen, I'm out of the life. I've gone straight," George said with a smile.

Carmen nodded with approval. "Good. You were too good for it, I could tell. You weren't brought up in it like I was."

George snorted internally. Ain't that the truth, he thought. In the scant moonlight, he studied Carmen's profile. The extra weight filled out her face, making her more feminine and softer than he remembered. Now, she was pretty, whereas two years ago she had been striking in an oddly androgynous way.

"You look good, Carmen," he said truthfully.

"I've gained weight. I don't fit into those slinky clothes the boys like anymore. I look like someone's mother."

"Those slinky clothes only attracted the wrong sort of boys, if I remember correctly."

"They attracted you, didn't they?"

"No, your attitude problem attracted me, Carmen," George said with a laugh. Carmen laughed with him. "Besides, even if you were someone's mother, I'd still sleep with you."

"Thanks, Patrick," she said, still laughing.

It was getting colder. Carmen pulled her coat tighter around herself, shivering. George shifted closer to her, wrapped his arms around her. She leaned into him.

"Always a gentleman," she murmured. She rested her head against his chest. He kissed the top of her head.

"My mother taught me well," he said quietly. He enjoyed the feeling of her new curves under her coat.

"I never had chance to tell you, Patrick. I loved you. You broke my heart when you left. I thought you left because of me, that I did something wrong. I always thought you were better than me, and you finally realized it," Carmen whispered. George hugged her tighter.

"I never thought that. And I didn't leave because of it." George toyed with the idea of telling her the truth. Carmen, I'm a Federal agent. My name's not Patrick, it's George, and I was undercover when you met me. I did love you, Carmen. I think I still do.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't tell her the truth. He couldn't risk blowing his cover in case he needed it again.

"I'm so sorry, Carmen," he whispered. He tilted her head upwards, fingers under her chin. Tears had fallen down her cheeks. George used the pad of his thumb to wipe them away. He bent his head down and kissed her.

He tasted the salt from her tears, and the traces of the cigarettes she had been smoking, strangely sweet. He pressed his lips a little harder against hers. She opened them slightly under the pressure, and he slipped his tongue inside her mouth. Her tongue played along his, twisting in a familiar dance. He felt her press her body against his, heat seeping into his clothes. His hand wandered lower, from her jaw to along her neck, to cup her breast. He gently massaged it, feeling the nipple harden under his palm. Carmen moaned against his mouth.

George pulled his lips away from hers. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her breathing ragged. George felt his cock coming to life, constricted by his jeans. He found himself enjoying the new curves Carmen had acquired.

"Your place or mine?" Carmen asked with that wicked grin.

"Yours. Mine's a disaster," George said. Carmen looked slightly startled.

"I thought we weren't going to pick up where we left off?"

"I lied," George said as he stood, pulling Carmen with him. "Let's go, before my erection cuts off the circulation to my legs."

Carmen threw her head back and laughed, rich and throaty. She allowed herself to be pulled along by George.

Her apartment was within walking distance of the park. They kissed and teased each other the half mile there, tugging on each other's clothes, caressing. George came close to flipping up that waitress uniform and plunging himself into Carmen in several doorways.

Carmen's apartment was small, but cozy and warm. It was a studio, with a full size bed in the middle under the main window. Carmen pulled the curtains shut, before yanking George fully against her body, and falling backwards onto the cheerful orange patchwork quilt. She spread her legs, allowing George to settle between them. She reached down between their bodies, rubbing her hand against George's cock. He groaned, and kissed her hard. She unbuttoned his jeans, then undid his zipper. She placed her hand inside his fly, and palmed his erection through the cotton of his boxers. George ground himself against her hand.

He wrenched his lips from hers. Her lips were red, and swollen. He stood, and took off his jacket. Carmen propped herself on her elbows, and watched him from the bed. He kicked off his sneakers into a corner. He slid his hands under the hem of his white t-shirt, teasingly pulling it up. He pulled it up to mid-chest, then let it fall, while running his hands over his belly and chest.

Carmen got fed up, and jerked it over his head. She kissed his mouth, running her tongue along his lips.

"Coffee. How interesting," she said. She kissed along his jaw, down his throat, licking his Adam's apple. She kissed a trail down his chest and stomach, then back up, sucking lightly on one nipple while rolling the other between her fingers. George pushed himself against Carmen's mouth. She switched nipples, using her teeth this time to bring it erect. George groaned loudly.

Carmen left his nipples, and kissed him on the mouth. While doing so, she slid his jeans off. They landed on the floor, and George stepped out of them. He unzipped the front of her dress, then spread it open. He cupped her breasts through the lacy beige bra, feeling their weight. Carmen took off the uniform, then lay back down on the bed. George followed, leaning over her.

He pulled the lace to the side on one breast, and bent his head to take the nipple into his mouth. He sucked on it hard. Carmen gasped, and plunged her hands into George's hair. She arched her back. George sucked harder, then moved to his mouth to the other nipple. He mimicked Carmen's rolling motion with his fingers on the free nipple. Carmen writhed underneath him.

He wanted to be inside her so badly it hurt. He skimmed his fingers over her stomach, down under the elastic of her panties, into her pubic hair. He felt for her slit, and slid his fingers inside when he found it. Carmen jerked underneath him, pulling his hair.

She was soaking wet, and hot. George slipped two fingers inside her. He decided that neither of them could wait anymore. He stood, and pulled Carmen's panties off. She unhooked her bra and tossed it to the side while he impatiently yanked his boxers off. Carmen leaned over to the nightstand, and got a condom out of the drawer.

"I hope it fits," she said, handing it to George. He merely gave her a grin as wicked as hers was earlier. He ripped open the package carefully, and unrolled it onto his cock. Carmen watched him lazily. She ran her fingers over the scar on his hip. He stroked his hand up and down twice for her benefit.

Carmen lay down as George lay on top of her. She flipped George onto his back in a quick move that surprised him.

"Still limber, I see," he remarked sardonically. Carmen shushed him with her mouth. She straddled his hips, and wrapped a hand around his shaft, guiding him inside. She slid down him slowly, eyes closed. She paused a moment once he was entirely inside her, then lifted herself upwards, stopping again once she was at his tip.

She rode George excruciatingly slowly. His fingers dug into her hips, trying to urge her faster. She ignored him. She pushed herself up and down at her own pace, striving towards her release. George's fingers wandered between her lips, and found her clit. He worked it with the tip of his finger, pushing it up from underneath. Carmen threw her head back, and thrust herself faster onto George. He smiled to himself, thinking this was much better.

George thrust himself into Carmen hard, his back arching. The bed springs squeaked in protest. Carmen continued to ride him hard, pumping herself against George's cock and his fingers. She let loose a howl of pleasure as she climaxed. Her vagina squeezed tight around George's erection in waves. George thrust into Carmen several more times before he came to his own climax. He gritted his teeth against screaming, but a small whimper still escaped. His cock twitched with aftershocks.

Carmen had fallen forward and to the side, half draping herself over George. He gently pushed her off. He carefully withdrew his now limp dick, taking the condom off and throwing it in the trashcan. He pulled Carmen into his arms, caressing her bare skin. Their breathing was returning to normal.

"Just like old times, huh George?" Carmen said into his shoulder.

"Uh huh, just like old times," George said sleepily. He cuddled Carmen close, drifting off to sleep, when the fact that she just called him George finally sifted through.

His eyes snapped open, and he jumped off the bed. "What did you just call me?" he demanded.

Carmen rolled over onto her back, and stretched like a well-satisfied cat. "I know your name isn't Patrick. It's George St. Germaine."

George stared at Carmen, his mouth hanging open. Not much surprised him anymore, but he'd also never had his cover blown so spectacularly before. "How did you find out?" he managed to say.

Carmen sat up, and gave him one of her shrugs. "DA working my case had a big mouth."

"Which one?"

"Bolton."

George exploded "I knew we should have requested someone else! Bolton can't keep his trap shut, all he cares about is his damn career. I'm going to find him and rip his-"

"Will you shut up?" Carmen interrupted calmly. She rose from the bed, crossed the room to her closet. She took a blue bathrobe off a hook on the door, and wrapped it around herself, pulling the ties tight around her waist. She faced George defiantly.

"Bolton didn't actually mention your name, just that they had an agent on the inside that told them about the big drug deal that Tommy had going down. I put two and two together. I figured you were the agent they were talking about, since you disappearing and the raid coincided a little too well. I found out your name later by asking around at the police stations. It took awhile, but eventually someone came around and told me."

"Who?" George inquired. He was oblivious to the fact that he was stark naked.

Carmen shook her head. "No."

"Carmen..." George growled.

"No," she said, a little louder. "I gave my word that I wouldn't tell. I keep my word."

George made a frustrated noise through his nose. He racked his brain for names of cops he worked with. Too many cops, on too many cases to make a short enough list. He fumed. "How'd you make them tell you? By fucking them? You always were a whore-"

"I was never a whore, you sanctimonious prick!" Carmen shouted. "I never let anyone else in the gang lay a finger on me.Yeah, I fucked Tommy now and then, but that was it until I met you." Her voice was dangerously low. She advanced on George, fists clenched at her sides. "I slept with Tommy for protection. I slept with you because I wanted to."

"Did Tommy know that we were sleeping together?"

Carmen snorted. "Course he did. Tommy knew everything that was going on in his gang. Well, except you being an agent, but even that I think he wondered about. He didn't care, about us having sex. All Tommy cared about was money and power. Keeping me on his arm elevated his status with the other dealers. As long as I still was willing to do that, I could do what I want, as long as it was my choice." Carmen shook her head, laughing bitterly. "In his own odd way, Tommy was rather chivalrous."

"You sound like you miss him," George shot at her.

Carmen gave George a dirty look. "Put your clothes on, and get out."

"Carmen-"

"GET OUT!" she screamed. She picked up his clothes and threw them at him. "I've been paying for my mistakes for two years now, living in a lonely place. I don't need you to help." She fired off a string of Spanish, her body shaking with anger.

George clamped his tongue between his teeth and got dressed. He left Carmen's apartment, slamming the door.

Two days later, George stopped at the grocery store and bought a bouquet of flowers. They were red-orange alstroemeria, or Peruvian lilies, as the cashier called them. The cashier also said they lasted for a long time, for cut flowers. Their color reminded George of Carmen's temper.

He drove to the diner, and parked on the street in front. He got out, and stood on the sidewalk, the flowers hidden behind his back. Carmen walked out, distracted, five minutes later. She short-stopped in front of him, and glared.

"What do you want?" she spat.

"To apologize. For being a sanctimonious prick." He brought the flowers out from behind his back and held them out to her. She just stared at them.

"They're for you," George prompted with a smile.

"You're...

apologizing?

" Carmen said, stunned. "I think I just heard hell freeze over."

"Don't get used to it. It doesn't happen very often," he said.

Carmen took the flowers from him. "Thank you, George." She looked him up and down, slowly. "Please tell me you're not wearing a suit for this apologizing business. I don't think I could handle that along with the flowers."

George laughed. "No. I'm stuck on desk duty for the next week. Have to look presentable." He smoothed his tie down. "You don't like it?" he said with a frown.

Carmen shook her head vigorously. "No, I do like it. Actually, I like it a lot. I'm just not used to it, that's all. Ratty jeans and old t-shirts are usually the order of the day. This suit thing... makes you look almost respectable."

"Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment."

"You kinda look like my dad..."