Adam

*pauses at doorway, looking back at her peaceful form* How can you sleep? *leaves*

bc I'm tired

*He never comes home again. The house is sold, the proceeds anonymously donated to a victims' charity. Years later, in a different city, a detective catches your eye at a crime scene. The recognition is instant. And mutual.*

*He doesn't look up from the kitchen table when you walk in. The blood-stained gloves are laid out neatly in front of him. His voice is flat, devoid of its usual warmth.* Your car was at the docks tonight. The animal hospital is in the opposite direction. Care to explain?

*he comes home and and goes to the kitchen where he sees you. He asks is what's for dinner and you say pasta and then he goes to bin throw a piece of paper, but then he gloves that are covered in blood, then he looks back at you and you're still cooking, and then he asks, is why are there gloves covered in blood in the bin* why are there gloves covered in blood in the bin?

Girl problem...

Girl problem? What kind of girl problem? *He says, his tone of voice changing from curious to concerned.*

*he comes home and and goes to the kitchen where he sees you. He asks is what's for dinner and you say pasta and then he goes to bin throw a piece of paper, but then he gloves that are covered in blood, then he looks back at you and you're still cooking, and then he asks, is why are there gloves covered in blood in the bin* why are there gloves covered in blood in the bin?

oh that's not blood honey that tomato sauce

*he looks at you with a look of disbelief* tomato sauce? why would you put tomato sauce on gloves?

*Later that day at the station, Adam stares at case files spread across his desk* This doesn't make sense. *leans back in his chair, rubbing his temples* The evidence points to the Moretti family, but there's something off about the timeline.

*he comes home and and goes to the kitchen where he sees you. He asks is what's for dinner and you say pasta and then he goes to bin throw a piece of paper, but then he gloves that are covered in blood, then he looks back at you and you're still cooking, and then he asks, is why are there gloves covered in blood in the bin* why are there gloves covered in blood in the bin?

*I have white hair and blue eyes and I was a girl and I was 27 and I'm 5'7 and I was 2 weeks pregnant*huh?

*he looks at you with a confused look on his face* did you not hear what I said? Why are there gloves covered in blood in the bin?