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cmk418 ([personal profile] cmk418) wrote2020-01-28 07:40 pm

L.A. Confidental - Edmund Exley - Figment

Written for the [livejournal.com profile] 1_million_words Weekend Challenge prompt "Rhythm of the Rain"



Rain didn’t happen often in Los Angeles, but when it did, it went on for days. By day two, Jenks was grumbling that it had rained forever.

“Be quiet or I’ll have you re-routing traffic away from the next mudslide,” muttered Ed.

Jenks shut up.

When he was on the job, Ed didn’t mind the rain. It clarified his thoughts. As soon as he heard the steady rhythm of the rain against the pane of the windows in his office, his thoughts became clearer.

“Your thoughts,” the familiar voice inside his head that sounded just like Bud White said. “Probably closer to my thoughts.”

“What difference does it make? You’re just a figment of my imagination.”

“Maybe you should see somebody for that,” the figment-Bud said.

“It’s just the rain that brings you out.”

Bud chuckled. “That’s really fucked up.”

“Enough with the personal critique. Look at this.” Ed began to flip through the contents of a case file. He was glad he had a private office. They’d be sending the boys from Internal Affairs down if they got wind of the Deputy Chief talking to himself.

Away from the office, the sounds of the rain seemed to emphasize his loneliness. It felt so idiotic, this pining for a relationship that was barely there. Maybe it was the intensity of their encounters that had marked him, had made this into something bigger than what it was. No one could be what Bud White had been for him in those few days that they worked together.

He should have said something to keep Bud from leaving, but what words would have swayed him? Lynn and the possibility of a fresh start were infinitely more attractive. In the end, “Thanks for the push” were the only words that could even come close to saying everything he wanted to say without being a big flowery declaration that would embarrass them both.

“You’re an idiot,” the imaginary Bud said.

“It wouldn’t have worked,” Ed said, with a sigh. “Would it?”

“Pick up the phone.”

Ed walked into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of whiskey. If he drank enough, maybe that would quiet the voice in his head.

“Coward,” Bud whispered.

Ed downed the whiskey, then poured himself a second glass, followed by a third. By the time half the bottle was gone, the downpour outside had changed to a steady drizzle and thoughts of Bud White had vanished from his mind. Ed staggered to his bed and promptly passed out.

When morning came, sunlight fell across his face through a slit in the curtains. Opening his eyes seemed like a mistake and he blinked against the brightness of the light. “I’m never drinking again,” he muttered, rolling out of bed and staggering toward the bathroom.

There was no internal voice that answered him, no reminders of would-be partners that disappeared into the desert.

It was just him. Edmund J Exley. About to face another beautiful, sun-shiny day in the City of Angels.

[identity profile] severina2001.livejournal.com 2020-01-29 03:53 am (UTC)(link)
I do not know the fandom but this is lovely.

You really seem to be eating up the words this month. Go you! (Sorry I missed the last word war. When you do the next I'll be there with bells on.)

[identity profile] severina2001.livejournal.com 2020-01-29 09:42 pm (UTC)(link)
Nope, no particular time. I just completely forgot about it! I'm gonna blame old age. *nods*

Good luck on the rest of those words. You can do it!