Nothing Else Matters [Elsie]

[Jamison Cavanaugh]

The past few days had been long, with Jamison alternating between waiting at the hospital and moving Elsie's things from Brooklyn to Manhattan. At first he had spent almost all his time with her, excluding food breaks and the like, but once she was clearly well he had set about making the proper arrangements. He had spoken to his landlord on Elsie's behalf and gotten her into the apartment across the hall and to the right of his own. There had been some odd finagling, such as having to sign for her and handle all the other formalities, but due to the circumstances, which Jamison had very briefly explained to the landlord, some allowances had been made.

Going through Elsie's things had also been awkward. He had simply put things in boxes and loaded furniture onto a moving van, but every moment spent there reminded him of how little he really knew her, and of the night they were supposed to have spent in that apartment. He understood why Elsie was so loath to return to the place.

But he had gotten everything moved, and had said a goodbye to the doorman, thanking the man for his role in the events of that ill-fated night. There was no telling what might have happened without his call to the police. With everything done there, he had unloaded the truck's contents at his building, and set everything up in an easy-to-understand way. At first he had planned to make the new apartment set up like that of the old, but then he had realized he would be defeating the purpose of the move, in part, if he did that.

Finally, he had made a grocery run and brought back a small dinner for them to share. A rotisserie chicken, potato salad, corn, and a bottle of wine were on offer; he wanted to make the night special, a little romantic, but not overly so. He still wanted Elsie as much as he had before, but understood that he would have to wait until she was ready - if she ever was again. As stubborn a man as he could be, he could at least make that concession.

He drove Elsie home from the hospital and to the building. Her car and motorcycle were parked together, and he found his usual spot, right next to what would now be hers. They headed up to the fifth floor, and Jamey grasped Elsie's hand.

She might have noticed his relative silence of late. He was tired, partly because of the physical exertion of moving things, but also due to a lack of sleep. He'd been haunted by dreams the past couple of nights, the sort of dreams in which he had a knife in hand and no audience. Just a bloodied warehouse and a criminally insane ADA and all the time in the world.

"Welcome home," he told her now with a soft smile, handing her the keys to her new place. "I hope you'll like it here." With that, he stepped aside to let her get to the door.

[Eslytt Sunderland]

Elsie had spent most of the last few days simply laying in the hospital bed, resting and recovering. However, the previous day she had to endure the torment of reliving the night in the warehouse again as the detectives came in for their thorough questioning. Elsie was glad that Jamey had not been present when they had arrived, she was not sure she wanted him to hear in detail what she remembered of the ordeal. Each word seemed to intensify the pain that had largely left her until their questioning.

All in all, it was a pretty open and shut case, but the detectives seemed interested in whoever Jamey's partner had been. Elsie had been intentionally vague regarding that detail, leaving out the fact that she had learned that it was Jamison's boss and that he had been tailing her for the better part of two weeks. Such details would arouse suspicion that this was more than what it seemed and result in more digging and a more drawn out process. Elsie just wanted it over and done with already, she wanted to move on with her life, and if being slightly vague in a detail of her recollection helped speed the investigation to its conclusion, there was no harm in it.

Today though, the OGBYN that was assisting on her case had declared her healed enough to go home. Except it was not home she was going to go to, for her home had been stolen from her. The difference between a house and a home was safety and security, that which had been taken from her and her former apartment. No, she would not be going home, but to a new beginning, a fresh start, a new door and passage that had been booked by Jamison. He had done so at her behest, but that he had done so still held a remarkable value to Elsie. He had moved all her things from her former apartment to her new one, ideally located in the same building as his own. Elsie giggled when she thought of him having to sort through her lingerie and pack and unpack it. A task she would undoubtedly have to redo herself.

As Jamey brought them to the new building in Manhattan, the first thing Elsie noticed was her pair of vehicles in the parking. How had he known? It nearly brought a tear to her eye seeing them there. "Oh Jamey." she whispered to herself, lost in her appreciation.

It seemed only moments from when she stepped out of his car until she was standing outside the door of her new place. Maybe that was because Jamey had been so quiet, eerily so for him, a man who liked to talk as much as possible she had figured out. "I hope so to. Though I hear the company is decent in this part of the city, or at least, on this floor." she said with a wink and smile before playfully sticking her tongue out at him and skipping into the apartment gleefully.

The first thing she noticed was that the place was set up somewhat like her old place, though not entirely so. There were changes, her decorations on different angles and walls, her bookshelf not in the living room. It did not bother that there were subtle similarities though, it made her feel comfortable enough that she was sure she would acclimatize quickly. "Someone really went out of their way to make the eccentric lady feel at home. I think they deserve a little kiss." Her voice was playful but soft, signaling her appreciation for his efforts before she leaned in and pecked his cheek. It was the first time she had kissed him... since the night.

"Do I smell chicken?"

[Jamison Cavanaugh]

The apartment seemed to meet with Elsie's approval. She had been really glad to see her car and bike, too, which had taken Jamison some effort to move there. Jamison smiled gently as she kissed his cheek. He understood the significance of the kiss as well. It was all he could have wanted at the moment, and for that moment, he felt happy. Happier and calmer than he had for a while.

He followed her into the apartment, trying to see it through her eyes, taking note again of where he had set things up. If any more numbers had come in while he had been helping Elsie, neither Finch nor Reese had told him so. He found the aberration in workflow kind of odd, and half suspected they were intentionally letting him off the hook. It was probably better this way - he was not in the best condition to work.

"You do smell chicken," he told her with a smile, leaving her side to go into the kitchen and unpack the dinner. A little proudly, he brought the rotisserie chicken out of where it had been warming and placed it on the table, followed by the potato salad and corn. He knew where everything was, of course, so he also brought out plates and utensils and set the table, and brought out a couple of glasses in case Elsie wanted some of the wine. He knew he would drink some of it. He needed the drink, badly.

"It's just something I picked up for us. I thought you might like something that wasn't similar to the hospital cuisine you've been dining on." He gave her a smile, or tried to, at least. In the most gentlemanly fashion he could manage, he pulled out a chair at the dining room table and helped her take a seat. The true intention behind this might have become apparent to Elsie as his hand brushed her arm gently. He had not grabbed her or touched her inappropriately, in fact the contact was barely there, having been hindered by her sleeve, but it was clearly not accidental. If she happened to catch his eyes directly after that, she would notice a touch of something like exhaustion in them.

He took a seat next to her and moved the potato salad to be closer to her. Unsure what to say, he gave her another smile and cut a leg off the chicken. "Leg?" he asked, a little awkwardly.

[Eslytt Sunderland]

Jamey was trying, he really was trying to be a gentleman and the kind of man he thought she wanted. In fact, she did want a gentleman and a kind person as her partner. Why then did she feel like maybe Jamey was forcing it or was trying too hard to win her affection? Maybe it was nothing, just doubts that lingered in her mind after the episode at the hospital. It had been a trying few days and they both were emotionally and mentally worn thin. Things need to be simplified...

"Breast, if you would please." Elsie said softly as she thought about what to do. There was so much she could say or do and it might have helped, how could she know what which was the best course of action? Jamey at first seemed a simpler sort of man, easy enough to read and figure out how to work around and for. Yet he was not, he was complicated like her, holding secrets from her, and looking more than just a little worn out. "This... needs something." Elsie said as she looked all around slowly, trying to figure out just what it was that was wrong.

Then it clicked and her eyes went wide. "All wrong, this is all wrong. Excuse me for a moment!" She said as she got up and headed to a closet, hoping Jamey put things up similarly all around the house. Elsie was sure that Jamey was a bit confused right now and maybe even a little upset that she got up so abruptly. Yet the entire thing felt soo forced, soo wrong.

Elsie smiled as she saw the pair of items she was looking for and slid them into the pockets of her firered jacket. It was part of the outfit he had brought her to wear home from the hospital. It was better than one of those ridiculous hospital gowns.

Having what she needed she slinked back into the dining room and turned off the light as she did so. As she quietly made her way to the table, she pulled two of the items out of her pockets and put them on the center of the table before pulling out the box from her other pocket and opening it. Without saying a word, she pulled out a match from the box and struck it, quickly lighting the pair of candles before the flame ate too much of the match. With a smile, she took her place back at the table and gave Jamey a soft stare. "A breast if you please dear Jamey."

[Jamison Cavanaugh]

Was there something missing? The evening was fine for Jamison - he didn't need anything more, especially if it would make Elsie go out of her way. She left the table, though, without giving Jamison a chance to protest. He wasn't sure what to expect, but since he had no plans for the evening, it didn't really change his view on things. All he had expected was a quiet night with Elsie, welcoming her to her new home after her ordeal and her stay in the hospital.

He busied himself with the carving of the chicken for the brief time that she was gone, during which time he separated about half the chicken, planning to leave the rest for later. He could have eaten the entire chicken, having been eating mostly hospital scraps here and a taco there for the past few days, but he didn't want to seem greedy or rude.

Maybe he really was thinking too hard about this.

She brought back a pair of candles and lit them. It was a small change, considering the way she had run off. Jamey didn't mind, though. Using a fork and knife, he placed the breast he had cut away on Elsie's plate, then reached for the potato salad and the spoon that came with it, handing both to her. She would probably find it demeaning if he spooned out the potato salad for her. Or was that gentlemanly? Being far from a gentleman himself, he really had no idea. He knew she preferred to do thing herself, though, so he allowed her to do so.

He gave her a smile and nodded at the candles. "Beautiful." She looked beautiful as well, in that outfit of hers, with the floppy fedora a nice touch. Perhaps it was because they had met through a blind date, but she had more style than most of the women he had dated.

"You can tell me if this is worse than the hospital food. I didn't make any of it," he joked, giving her a smile. Reaching for the bottle of wine, he began to uncork it.

"Wine for you, my dear?" he offered gallantly.

[Eslytt Sunderland]

"A small glass if you would be so kind." Elsie responded as Jamey offered her some wine. It was a nice touch, adding to the more sensual and romantic mood that the candles provided. It would be a few weeks before her body could have normal ... intimate relations, but she wanted the closeness of him against her. She wanted to feel those arms around her, holding her close, supporting her when she wanted them to. Small little touches like these candles would be a tease and a reminder of that until her body had healed from her ordeal.

"Well, it's not as bad as that mush that they call food at the hospital, but it is no five star gourmet dinner either." Elsie said, sticking her tongue out at Jamey playfully. Potato salad was not something she particularly was fond of, but she still took a small helping so Jamey would not feel like his efforts had been wasted. The chicken itself was fairly good, moist and tender and full of flavor, a small delicacy for what it was.

Elsie quietly ate her food, thinking about life, and what was to come next. There was so much that needed to be done but yet, it was trivial matters that seemed so small in the scope of things now. Elsie had her new home, away from the disaster that had become her apartment, but she was still suffering from what had transpired that night. The doctors said she would for some time, even after the physical wounds were completely healed. She would quit taking jobs... for now at least, until she found her footing again. The mess she was physically and mentally, she would do no one any good.

"Dessert?" she asked hopefully a few minutes after she had finished the food on her plate. It was easier to ask for some comfort food than to ask the hard and serious questions right now. They were both tired... those questions could wait till another day. A day where maybe she was more herself, a day where snuggling was not all she could for at nights end.

[Jamison Cavanaugh]

At her request, Jamey poured a little wine, and passed the glass to her. Dinner was taken mostly in peace, aside from some joking around. Jamison found himself thinking as well, about work, about living across from Elsie, about general things that did and did not have to do with her. He was content to do as she needed, knowing that what he wanted was going to have to wait a good while now.

He considered the rest of the ordeal yet to come, as the media circus wound itself up for the next round.Being an investigator, and a very private person, he was used to dodging the media and downplaying his involvement in things, and he would be able to do the same for Elsie if she needed it. But she would have to give her statement - he didn't know whether she had already - and the case would have to be closed before he would rest easy.

She asked for dessert, which reminded Jamison of the ice cream in the freezer. That had been a bit of a challenge, choosing a dessert, so he had wound up getting ice cream - simple enough - and a sheet of brownies. One of those had to be acceptable. Maybe even both. "Dessert," he confirmed, getting up to retrieve the dishes. It wasn't long before he returned with the tub of ice cream, the brownies, and some utensils for it all.

"Brownie or ice cream? Or both?" he asked, serving himself a brownie while waiting for a response. If she wanted one, he would deposit a brownie onto her plate. If not, they'd move on to the ice cream; he placed a generous scoop atop the warm brownie, and would do the same for her if she wished. He was hers to command for the evening.

[Eslytt Sunderland]

"Both." Elsie said with a greedy smile, watching as he deposited a large, moist brownie onto the dessert saucer before dropping a dollop of vanilla ice cream onto the warm morsel. Elsie smiled at him appreciatively, delighted and grateful that she had someone like Jamey to be here with her, to help her on her way as she navigated this new path of her life's journey. Eventually she would have to go to the station and give her official statement, mostly a repeat of what she had said in the hospital. It would be a pretty open and shut case, legally at any rate, but the media circus was not something she was particularly looking forward to. Her life was hers to keep as private as she wanted to, to share with only those she desired to, not to be made some public spectacle.

"Thank you Jamey, everything was quite delicious." She mused as she nibbled on the warm and moist brownie intertwined with the cool smoothing of the ice cream. A small and wonderful treat, a distraction of heavenly proportions for the thoughts that plagued a tired mind. "You seem to know your way to a woman's heart." She offered with a giggle, a play upon that old silly saying.

"I want more you know, more than what has been given and can be. It's selfish of me to want those things, but I do, even when I know some of them are beyond my reach. I used to think that would make me a bad person, but it's just being human I think. We are never meant to just be satisfied... not entirely. Yet I think I would be, if such things were possible, within my control, within my reach."

[Jamison Cavanaugh]

The dinner went over well, all in all, with the dessert bringing things to a close nicely. Jamison had thought shopping for the dinner would have been difficult, but after picking things based on what he knew Elsie liked, and doing the very little preparation the dinner had needed, and now having gotten through the event with no complaint, he felt much more confident about it. Of course, it was easy to feel confident about something when it was already a success.

"You're welcome." He smiled gently, easily. Being around Elsie had a way of both keeping him on his toes and putting him at ease. She was easy to get along with, at least for him, yet was likely to do something unexpected at any moment. That was part of what he liked about her, and he hoped that part of her had not been left to die after…. For now she seemed to be recovering as best she could; he wouldn't ask for any more.

As she told him about the things she wanted, he placed a hand on hers, listening attentively. He wasn't sure what he could say that would comfort her - he never was; he had always been horrible at comforting others - but he understood that he should try his best, at least.

"It isn't selfish of you," he said quietly. "There are things I want that can't be - for me, for you, for us, for the future. Wanting them has been a reminder of what I have, something I wouldn't change for anything." He squeezed her hand and smiled. "Maybe you'll dream your way to what you want. Maybe we both will. But for now, if wanting is all there is, then it's better than nothing. Than complacency."

His hand left hers to rest on her cheek. "Would you have become the woman you are if you let yourself be satisfied? I know I… if I had, I would never have been lucky enough to meet you." His fingers traced a path along a lock of her hair. "I wouldn't have agreed to our date, I wouldn't have kissed you…" He smiled softly at the memory. "We wouldn't be here now. And right now I can't think of anything I've wanted more than just time with you."

[Eslytt Sunderland]

For a rough sort, Jamey had on occasion shown to be more than the mere physical appearance he gave off. Though there would be no mistaking Jamey for a cultured aristocrat who spent their free time parousing wines and art galleries, there was a measure of culture and class within him. And Elsie nearly had tears in her eyes as Jamey found himself displaying that hidden facet of his for her. Almost in tears, not quite though, not when she was trying to recover her strength. Those tears could fall later.

"Sometimes you know exactly what to say Jamison. I would not be the woman I am today if I was satisfied, you're right about that." Who would she have become if she had been satisfied with what had been provided for her, if she never strove for more? Would she had ever become a cop and then a detective, would she had been in those situations that tested her skills and morality? Could she have left well enough alone if she had been content with everything, would she had saved that young man's life in the alley?

"Someone once said that what we does now sends ripples throughout time. Do you believe that to be true Jamey, is what we do really important or makes a difference now or in the future? I want to believe it, I want to think that when I saved a person's life that has made a difference. Yet what if they die the next day in some sort of accident that no one could have prevented? Is saving their life still making a difference?"

Perhaps it does not matter if it matters. It would not be wrong to simply live life the way you desire to live it, regardless of what repercussions may come, if your actions rippled or not. You can have nothing to live for and a still make those right decisions even if they mattered not. It is the actions we take when there is nothing on the line, when there is no obvious consequences to those actions that define ourselves." Elsie rested her head against Jamey's hand and stared up into his eyes for what seemed like hours, quiet and just looking into his eyes before speaking up again.

"I want to be a good person Jamey."

[Jamison Cavanaugh]

Quietly, without interrupting, Jamison listened, letting Elsie speak her mind and heart. She was a brilliant woman, though of course this was something he had known for a while now, and was merely being reminded of in the moment. That was part of what interested him about her. She could be so strong yet so delicate, so random yet so sensible. She changed at her will, unpredictably to him. The puzzle was appealing, in that he never wanted to fully solve it.

He brushed his hand along her skin as she leaned her head against his hand, then lifted her head and kissed her, slowly, as deeply as he dared. His hand left her face to run through her hair, to cradle her head in his palm.

Some time passed before he answered.

"You are a good person, Elsie. You do good things when it doesn't matter, when there's nothing much to gain. You persevere when you don't have to. That, to me, makes a person good, no matter their intentions, no matter their actions."

The dishes on the table had been forgotten, the dinner finished. Jamey was seeing not the apartment around them, or the scene he had set, just Elsie, her eyes, her hair, the structure of her face. He had yet to notice his change in perception.

"If you save a person who dies the next day, then you gave that person a few extra hours to enjoy. That's something. And it's something they won't forget, that they'll be grateful for. But is it a person's reactions that define your effect on the world, or is it your own actions?" He cupped her chin in his hands and gave her a small smile.

"If you wait for others to validate you, if you wait on them to give your actions meaning, you'll probably be waiting a long time. You should decide whether your actions ripple, based on how those actions leave you feeling. If they make you more of the person you want to be, then you've done something right."

He fell silent for a moment, considering the best way to pose his own question.

"It's often said that the most dangerous man is the one with nothing to live for, but I don't think that's true. He has no reason to fight, and once he's defeated, it's over. The most dangerous man is the one who lives for himself - not for someone else. It may be selfish, but that kind of confidence is unshakeable. And it lets you live the way you want to, which can't be wrong.

"I live for myself, and I do what I want. I have a job I like and I work for my bosses, but I don't live for them or for the work. Maybe that makes me a bad person. I've never really cared whether others see me as a hero or a villain." He paused. He had just told a lie. There had been a very long time - most of his life- when he had not cared about perception, but now his past and how it could be construed did worry him. It worried him that Elsie might think less of him. Did that mean he was going against his own principles? He wasn't sure.

"Elsie… what is it that keeps you going, that keeps you from giving up? What do you live for?" He asked it quietly, unsure how she would take the question. The last thing he wanted was another fight like the one at he hospital.

[Eslytt Sunderland]

Elsie shyly smiled as Jamey said she was a good person, as he complimented her and affirmed her beliefs in herself. Or maybe it was the lingering glow of a kiss she was surprised he took and even more surprised that she allowed. It felt wonderful and yet foreign all at once, as she submitted the slightest bit of control to him. Yet she had returned the kiss, had let the feelings rise up inside of her as they had sat in silence there.

Jamey was a strange man, the culture, the class, the philosophical nature that he was now espousing, it did not fit him. And yet it did, like a glove, soft and perfect, made just for him and how he desired it. More like how he desired to be or maybe that was just her own hope that she was projecting upon him.

He had points, one did not need others to validate who they were or who they desired to be. Not many would every thank a kind act with another or with merely a thank you. Random acts of kindness were rare and when they were performed, they were taken for granted by those that benefited from them. Validation had to come from within, from how you felt about yourself and the decisions you made. Relying on others to validate you was weak and foolish and a fruitless exercise that left one jaded.

Trusting others though, coming to know and appreciate them, relying on them for certain things, that was not foolish. People had a need to be with one another, humans had always been social creatures, no amount of evolution or cynicism could change that. She was beginning to trust one person, a small measure of trust, and hope that it was not falsely misplaced. If it was, she could sweep up the pieces of the broken trust and reforge them, but she did not believe that was going to have to be the case. Already they had proven that they were trustworthy.

Elsie almost recoiled though as Jamey said he lived only for himself and did not care whether people saw him as hero or villain. How could he not care at all, care nothing about what it was he was doing and how it was perceived? Was there not something more than just providing for ones self that Jamey found worth time, effort, and appearances in this world? Yet still she remained there beside him, until he asked her that question.

She pulled back from him, sitting upright in her chair, quiet. Why had he asked that question, why had he gone on this particular line of conversation? Was he trying to push her away?

Finally, after some time, she said what made the most sense to her. "I keep going because I choose to Jamey. I keep going because if I am not moving forward, then I am mired down in life. I live for life, I live for the choice to live my life as I see fit. I don't need a plan, I don't need any sort of idea of what I am to do next, I merely need the choice to do it any way I see fit. I keep living because I choose to."

[Jamison Cavanaugh]

This was not going the way he had expected. Jamison had always known he had a tendency to say the wrong things at the wrong time, but why now? He had clearly misspoken somehow, or said something that Elsie found herself violently disagreeing with. He just wasn't sure what it was that had done it.

In stark contrast to her behavior with the kiss, she recoiled suddenly, as though Jamey had just grown the heads of a Hydra. His lips twisted into a frown, giving away his surprise and displeasure. His beliefs were important to him, and the fact that Elsie did not share them was discouraging, to say the least.

To make matters worse, it seemed he had offended her with his question. He had certainly not meant to do that. All he had meant was to be certain she had a direction, now that her life had been so irreversibly changed. He was glad to see she did. He was not so glad to see her pull away from him.

Instead of carrying on the conversation, as he might have liked, Jamey stood up and turned toward the table, beginning to clear the dishes. "I'm sorry if I offended you," he told her, genuinely apologetic. "Pretend I didn't say anything. Let's just try to have a good night."

He rinsed off the dishes and placed them in the drain. Hearing her approach, he glanced at her as she sighed, a frown on her beautiful face. "Is there truly nothing you want to live for besides yourself?"

Why was she the first response that came to mind? He barely knew her; he couldn't live for her. It was against everything he had ever stood for. He paused and looked at her, studying her for a moment. "At the moment, that's all I need."

She looked floored for some reason he could not understand. Gathering herself quickly, she looked at him with a straight face. "We're different people, you and I."

"We are." He nodded. That had never been so evident as it was now. What had happened to their nice dinner, their quiet evening? He wanted little more than to just hold her right now, to wrap his arms around her and just hold her until she fell asleep. Instead he went for what he knew was a hugely mistaken line of reasoning, and asked, "What is it about what I said that bothers you? Is it so horrible to live for yourself?"

She sighed again, this time clearly unhappy with the line of questioning and the direction the evening was taking. "It would be so empty… so unfulfilling. To have nothing or no one to live for but yourself… I can not thin of a sadder fate."

"I can." He was going to regret this, he knew, but somehow, he could not stop. His tone had grown cold, his expression stoic. "To live your life for someone else, only to lose that person for no good reason." Turning away, dropping the last of the plates into the drain, he added in a murmur, "I think I should go."

Elsie hesitantly reached forward, as though to embrace him, but stopped before her hand was even halfway between them. "I'm sorry Jamey. I'll… I'll see you around."

Why? Why did he have to be so stupid? What had made him speak his mind? Whatever progress they had made was now lost, and Jamison was already regretting it. He nodded, moving toward the door. "Have a good night."

Not until after he was behind the safety of his own apartment door did he stop to breathe, crumpling against the frame. He stayed there for a while, there just beyond the threshold of his dark apartment, his body shivering slightly at the thoughts and the memories that overtook him until finally he closed his eyes and fell into a fitful slumber.

[Fin for Jamey]
[Written with Chellote]