Peraltiago-Too Late To Turn Back Now

1x05

6:42pm. Amy twirled the key she'd taken from Jake at their last meeting in her fingers. She'd have to give it back to him tonight, hopefully before he noticed. Despite having already taken detailed notes about the engravings and dimensions of this simple key (and even an imprint of the bite of the key so if she worked out what it opened, she could replicate it for herself) she was rather reluctant to have to give it back.

Or maybe it was more the hoodie that she was reluctant to give back? It was soft and yes, she had slept in it since Jake had let her borrow it. It wasn't weird though, it wasn't because it smelt like Jake or because it was slightly faded from how much he'd worn it. Or that it was a sign of him being a genuinely nice guy despite his crimes. No, it was because it was NYPD, it was familiar. It was a link to home.

She'd washed everything he'd let her borrow and now it was folded neatly on her counter, waiting for him to collect it.

6:45pm. It had been difficult to get ready for tonight. 'Mrs Stanton' was needed at work until 5 on Friday's in order to run the adult English literature class after-school, and then she'd done some extra marking before heading home. Amy had spent the whole day wondering what to wear that night.

Not that she was shallow, far from it. But they hadn't specified a dress code. He'd said 'it's a date' but her only plans were to order a pizza and put on a movie. But she liked to be prepared and God forbid if he was dressed smart and she was in her lounge-wear. Or visa versa.

He'd said Die Hard was his favourite, and she'd never seen it. Being considerate, Amy had bought the movie on her TV so that she could keep him engaged at hers for longer. Tonight was to gather more information, to get closer to the criminal. Tonight was not a date. Not a date.

6:51pm. In the end, she'd decided to dress smart-casual, a nice floral top - fitted, and slightly cropped (she may be 32 but she's still fashionable), with a pair of plain denim jeans, ripped at the knee. She was wearing her smart ankle-boots, but beneath those was her softest pair of bed socks, pink and stripy and very cosy.

Sending one last update to her handler (she'd requested a replacement for Teddy, but at the moment, the request was still pending) Amy pulled her coat over her shoulders and walked down the bodega.

6:57pm. No sign of Jake, but she wasn't surprised. She got the distinct impression that Jake wasn't the most prompt of people. Amy flashed a smile at Mrs Rosario who was behind the counter, but the woman only nodded in response. Progress, Amy thought to herself. Feeling a little self-conscious for just standing there, Amy browsed the magazines and newspapers in one of the stalls.

7:02pm. Unsure of what to do and more than a little concerned that Mrs Rosario's eyes have burned a whole into the back of Amy's head, she went outside the bodega and stood by the door. Hopefully Jake wouldn't be too long.

7:06pm. The wind picked up and made her eyes water as she stared into it, her eyes on the lookout for Jake. He was probably busy being a criminal, she was aware. But she was also aware that Amy Stanton thought he was a good guy and would probably give him a few more minutes of leeway before presuming he'd bailed on her.

7:14pm. Amy heard a shout from an alleyway across the road. She got out her phone and pulled up a text chain from her co-workers, thinking that if anyone saw her now, she could pretend to be oblivious to any of the ruckus.

There was another shout and a clatter, Amy presumes it's the bins. And then a person groans.

A head appears round the edge of the alleyway which Amy doesn't recognise from her peripheral vision. Before she can make the decision whether to look at it directly, the face has retreated back.

7:17pm. Amy watched Jake from the corner of her eye as he came out of the alley and jog across the road to greet her. She kept her head at her phone to reassure him that she was oblivious.

"Amy, I'm so sorry. I got held up." She turned at the sound of his voice. He sounded worn out but he was hiding it well, just not well enough to deceive Amy. Smiling, she turned to meet his eyes.

"What happened to you?" Amy frowned, analysing his face. His right eye was red - certain to be swollen in the morning - and he has a split lip. If Amy gave herself a split second to look, she was certain his knuckles would be bruised at the very least.

Jake shook his head. "Doesn't matter. I'm fine. Don't-"

He stopped talking when Amy ran her thumb over his cheekbone, gently turning his face to get a better look at his eye. "That's gonna hurt, have you iced it?" She asked, tapping the pad of her index finger onto the flushed skin. He sucked in a breath. "I'll take that as a no." She chuckled.

"Come on," she offered him her hand, which he took, his cheeks turning the colour of his eye, "I'll patch you up."