The more Kia thought about her situation, the more she hated it. There was no clear path forward and no one to run to for advice. She felt isolated and trapped in Baglor's crazy world, and it was getting exhausting.
At work, she tried to focus on her other cases. However, it was hard to concentrate, especially when Jean was around. She desperately wanted to tell him everything, but she feared for his life. Everything she had learned about Baglor indicated that his threat was valid.
There was also the fact that she couldn't trust Jean to believe her. She didn't want him to think she was crazy or laugh off her explanation like he had laughed off her question the other day. And yet, she couldn't blame him if he reacted with disbelief or jest. In his shoes, she would have done the same.
However, she needed to talk to someone, and he was all she had. Ultimately, she decided to talk to him without actually talking to him. Surely, he could help her sort through her confusing thoughts without knowing about the supernatural elements of the case.
So, during lunch, when he asked what was wrong for the twelfth time that day, she decided to let him into her thoughts, with restricted access, of course.
"It the Bargaratti case," she said as they sat in their favorite booth in the little diner across from the station.
"I knew it," he declared, sitting across from her. "You told me it was going fine but I could feel you were lying. What are you hiding, Kia?"
"Sometimes, you act like the elder brother I never had."
He shrugged shyly, and his face turned red.
"I never wanted an elder brother," she added, and his blush vanished. "It's annoying."
"Oh… Sorry."
"It's fine. It's just…"
"I didn't know that caring about you was annoying."
"Jesus," Kia said. She slapped her palm against her forehead and ran her fingers through her hair in frustration. "I didn't mean I like that. You know what. Forget I said anything."
"I'm sorry," Jean said honestly. "I was being a tad bit petty. Tell me what's going in with the case and how I can help."
"I don't really need your help, Jean. Just a bit of advice."
"That's technically help. But who cares about semantics. What's up?"
Kia rolled her eyes, and just like that, they were back to their friendly self with all awkwardness gone.
"To be honest Jean, the Bargarattis are way more than I expected."
"Do you think you are in danger?"
Kia thought about that question for a brief second. Was she really in danger?
"Well, I'm a cop undercover as a dirty cop. Of course, I'm in danger. I will always be in danger until this damn case is closed. But it's not that. They are a complicated gang. More like a cult than anything else."
"So they take the term' crime family', a little too seriously. That's not news."
"It's easy to dismiss when you read it in a report. But when you are in, it feels more…"
"Real?"
"Kinda. It's deeper than I thought."
"If I didn't know better, I would have said you have grown to like the Bargarattis."
"That's impossible. If anything, I hate them more than ever. Between me and you, I want Baglor dead. He simply has to give me an excuse and an opportunity and he would be meeting his maker."
Jean was taken aback. He had never heard Kia talk this way. It was an unpleasant surprise. He forced himself to ignore it and believe nothing had changed about his friend.
"So, you want advice about what exactly? Are you having second thoughts about the mission?"
"Kinda, Kia confessed. But I don't think I can pull out. The question is, how deep should I go? I'm scared that if I get in too deep, there would be no coming out. I don't want to get sucked in."
"You won't," he said urgently and placed his hands on her.
Her nerves jumped for a split second before relaxing to his touch. His fingers felt cool on her skin, soothing. However, he seemed to have sensed her initial nervousness. He withdrew his hands slowly and continued to talk.
"No matter how deep you go, I would always be here to draw you back out, to remind you that you are Kia Ling, a detective of Bane City. You are not a Bargaratti criminal. And nothing will ever change that."
"I don't know Jean."
"I do. Going undercover into a gang like the Bargarattis is not easy at all. And as you know, I didn't want you to do this."
"Jean," she tried to protest.
"Shhhh, I didn't want you to do this because I was reluctant to believe in you. But the truth is, you are way tougher than I was willing to admit and probably way tougher than you think. You got this. And yes, the Bargarattis are tough. But you are much closer to bringing them down than any cop in existence has ever been able to get. That's a win, and that's all you. You started this, and you are gonna finish this Kia. And if you ever get lost, I would be there to lead you back home like Gatsby's green light," Jean said.
In that moment, looking into his eyes, Kia could see his feelings as clear as day. There was more than friendship, more than a like-like, more than a crush. It was there in his eyes, too heavy to push through his throat and escape his lips. But if only he understood that he only needed to say the words he could and confess his truth. He didn't need to express it all, just enough to make it clear.
An awkward silence fell upon them as their eyes locked. Their faces drew close, and the possibility of a wordless confession slowly began to materialize. Closer and closer, clarity approached with the promise of a beginning. They were at the precipice, about to rise to the apex, when his phone suddenly rang.
The spell in their eyes wavered like an illusion. They tried to conjure it once more, but it was gone; the moment, fleeting, was lost. Their bodies returned to their seats. Jean picked up his call, his face a mask of anger and annoyance.
"What?" He yelled into the phone but immediately mellowed when the person on the other end responded. Without explanation, he rose and walked out of the diner.
Their lunch arrived, and after waiting for five minutes, Kia decided to start eating. Jean returned a quarter of an hour later, mumbled weak, inaudible excuses, and left before she could ask any questions.