Hear Me

The Russians

Tomorrow

Clara checks her watch as she waits near the restaurant she picked. She hears a cane tapping to her left and looks, seeing Matt approaching. "Matt!" She says, going to his side.

"Sorry I'm a little late," he says.

She shrugs, "It's fine, let's go in," she takes his arm and they both walk into the restaurant. Once they're seated and have put their orders in, they immediately begin talking about things... anything. Then, music turns on and several people get up to dance. "Matt! We should dance!" She says.

"I don't know...," Matt says doubtfully, "dancing isn't really a blind man's sport."

Clara gets up and grabs his arm, "I won't hear it. Come on, just don't step on my toes," she guides him towards the dance floor. This is what made her love this restaurant. Her dad always took her here and they'd dance together.

Matt allows Clara to guide his hands to the right spots, "I really don't think..."

"Come on, please?" She asks, determined to get him to dance with her.

"It's not that I don't want to...," he begins.

"Then come on," she grabs his hand and they begin to move. It's really not that, he really does want to dance with her. He's concerned about how good he'll be. What if he steps on her feet... or bumps into someone... or he dances too close and she finds him clingy... all the outcomes seem to be bad. But none of that happens. He even twirls her right when the time comes... and she laughs. She's smiling and having a good time. He's having a good time, as well. Time went by and they both forgot about their meals until they had gone cold. But Clara and Matt didn't mind. It was worth it.

The waiter places the bill on the counter and Clara grabs it before Matt can, "I'm paying," she says.

"I asked you, though."

She smiles, "I know, but I did force you to dance...," she places her card inside and hands the check back.

Matt nods, "yeah, but I did enjoy it."

Clara internally cheers, "I'm glad you did."

Thursday

The precinct was a buzz of activity ever since the explosions went off. They had rattled the ground, sending a sinking fear into every officer's hearts, especially the ones who had survived the battle of New York.

"Marinetta!" The police chief rushes out of his office, "go meet Blake and Hoffman at North West Corner of 4-7 and 12. Mahoney will take you," he orders.

Brett and Clara get into his squad car, "It's hell out, right now," he says, turning on his sirens and lights.

She nods, "is it a gas leak?"

He shrugs, "that's what the news is claiming but here's the thing, all those buildings, owned by the Russians."

"So it's a hit of some kind?"

"I don't know but it's fishy alright," he says as he turns down the street. They stop near the other squad cars and get out.