Ray stepped inside the apartment. It was a cozy place. There were notebooks scattered on the table in the living room, and a few takeaway boxes. Emma motioned toward the couch.
"You want coffee? Tea? I've got some herbal stuff too," She said, pulling her hair into a loose bun.
Ray smiled faintly. "I'm good, thanks. Still on duty."
"Right. The badge and all," she said, dropping onto the chair opposite him. "So… how's life been, Officer White?"
He chuckled. "Complicated. You?"
She gave a half-smile. "Same. Just with more cameras and fewer friends."
The silence that followed wasn't awkward. It was the kind that only comes from two people who once shared something special. Emma leaned back, studying him.
"You know, I spent years thinking you ghosted me," she said with a soft laugh. "I told myself I didn't care, but I did. I was a teenager, hormonal, dramatic… the full package."
Ray looked at her, his expression gentle. "You were seventeen. You had every reason to think that way."
She shook her head. "No, I was stupid with too much emotion and zero patience. I got angry. I thought you left me like everyone else. I ignored your calls for weeks, told myself you were just another person pretending to care. Then we moved on to another state. And when I finally decided to call, your number was switched off. I figured it was karma for being stubborn."
Ray looked down for a moment, then met her eyes. "I joined the army not long after that fight. They sent me into a special program. No phones, no contact, nothing for months. By the time I got out, life had already moved on."
Emma looked kinda sad, the sadness that comes after realizing the result of a bad decision that changed a part of one's life.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
He smiled faintly. "We were both young and stupid."
She nodded, then laughed softly. "Yeah. Young, stupid, and way too good at overthinking. God, I remember spending nights wondering what I'd done wrong."
Ray looked at her for a long moment. "You didn't do anything wrong. You were the only person who ever made school feel normal for me."
Her smile softened. "You still talk like that. Quiet, but somehow heavy. You haven't changed."
"Neither have you," he said. "Still overanalyzing everything."
"Hey," she said with mock offense. "That's called being thoughtful."
He chuckled. "Right. Thoughtful."
She looked down, then back up. "I really am sorry, Ray. For not listening. For assuming the worst."
Ray gave a small nod. "It's in the past. You're safe now. That's what matters. Besides, if we didn't go through that patch of life... We probably wouldn't be where we are right now. You overcame your weakness of anxiety and bad social skills and became one of the top celebrities. While I overcame my physical weakness and improved my social skills and decided to walk the same path as my Dad."
Emma smiled faintly, the corners of her eyes softening. "Guess we both turned out alright, huh?"
Ray leaned back slightly. "Yeah. Just took the scenic route."
She said. "A really long one."
They talked for a while, letting the years between them fill in the pauses. The conversation flowed easily—old memories, half-forgotten jokes, and quiet acknowledgments of how much had changed. It felt strange and familiar at the same time.
Emma told him about her acting career, how she'd stumbled into it after college. Fame had its ups and downs. Being watched all the time made her long for quiet moments, like those in the school library.
Ray shared a few light stories from his police work, carefully skipping over the darker parts. He spoke about the squad, Rosa, and the bizarre everyday chaos of the Nine-Nine. Emma laughed at his stories, real laughter, the kind she hadn't felt in months.
For a moment, it was almost like they were back in that library again. Just two people who understood each other without needing to say too much.
Eventually, Ray glanced at his watch and stood up. "I should go. Duty calls."
Emma's expression faltered for a second. "Right. Of course. Saving the city and all that."
He smiled faintly. "Something like that."
He made his way toward the door. Emma followed, her hands fidgeting slightly. When he reached for the handle, she spoke.
"Ray?"
He turned. "Yeah?"
She hesitated, biting her lip before saying, "Would it be weird if I asked you out for a drink sometime? Nothing serious. Just... catching up. If that's okay with you."
Ray looked at her for a long moment, reading the quiet hope behind her voice. Then he smiled. "I'd like that."
Her eyes brightened, and she let out a small breath of relief. "Good. I'll text you then."
He nodded. "I'll hold you to it."
They exchanged their numbers quickly.
As he stepped into the hallway, she called after him. "Hey, Ray?"
He turned back once more.
"It was really nice to see you again," she said softly. "And thanks for saving me."
He gave a small nod. "It was nice to see you too. As for thanks, I'll take 20% of that since Amy and Boyle did most of the work. They cracked the case. I simply followed the orders."
She chuckled, "I'll thank them in person."
"Yeah, you do that. Well, I should get going," He said.
Then he left. Emma followed him outside and watched him drive away.
She stood there for a moment before whispering to herself, "Still the same Ray White. But more handsome and looks buffed up in a good way." She went inside with a happy smile and thoughts.
...
[That night] [Ray's house]
It was raining hard outside. Rosa and Ray planned to go to the shooting range for a game, but the rain spoiled it. So, both decided to stay home and just do whatever they want.
Rosa lay on her stomach on the bed. Ray sat beside her, hands working methodically into her shoulders.
She groaned in contentment. "God, that's perfect. Don't stop."
Ray chuckled. "I wasn't planning to. You're tense as hell."
"Of course I'm tense," Rosa said. "Do you have any idea what it's like being stuck at a desk for eight hours listening to Hitchcock and Scully debate over which flavor of Doritos tastes best with cold pizza?"
Ray smirked. "Sounds like psychological warfare."
"It is. I'm filing for trauma pay."
He said. "Better to take it slow for now. You're still recovering. Holt doesn't want you back in the field until your ribs fully heal."
Rosa grumbled, half annoyed, half relaxed. "Yeah, yeah. Responsible decisions. I hate it when you make sense."
"You'll live," Ray said, pressing a thumb gently into the side of her neck. She sighed, eyes fluttering shut.
For a while, neither spoke. Just the sound of rain and Rosa's steady breathing. When he finally stopped, she rolled over onto her back, looking up at him with a lazy smile.
"You're good at that," she said.
"I know," he replied, touching her cheek. 'I love her so much.'
Rosa reached up, hooked her arms around his neck, and pulled him down until he hovered just above her. Both of them were looking into each other's eyes. 'I just want to stay in his arms and just... stay like this. Then fuck all over the place like there's no tomorrow.'
"So, I've been wondering…" She finally broke the silence.
Ray raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh."
She hesitated for a second, searching his eyes. "My parents want to meet you."
He blinked. "Your parents?"
"Yeah," she said. "I kinda told them about you. About how you saved me during that kidnapping mess, taking care of me and... Well… that you're my boyfriend."
Ray smirked slightly. "Kinda told them?"
"Okay, I told them," she admitted. "And ever since then, they've been bugging me to set up a lunch. They're curious about the guy who managed to make me, you know…" She gestured vaguely. "Less scary."
He laughed softly. "That's quite an introduction."
"I know. So… is it okay if I set something up? Lunch with them, nothing fancy. I promise they won't interrogate you too much."
Ray studied her for a moment. "If it matters to you, then yeah. Let's do it."
Her eyes softened. "It does. A lot."
He leaned down and kissed her. "Then I'm in."
Rosa kissed his chin. "Good. Because if you said no, I'd have to drag you there anyway. Or probably called your mom."
Ray kissed her back before saying. "Wouldn't expect anything less."
...
[Meanwhile] [Docks]
Down at the docks, a cargo ship arrived a few minutes ago. Workers moved quickly under flickering lights. The rain made it harder for them to work.
A crane lowered a container onto the concrete. One of the men pried the seal open with a crowbar. Inside were rows of smaller, matte-black crates marked only with a red pig symbol and a single word: GIGGLE.
A man in a tailored coat entered the container and opened one of the crates. He shone his flashlight in to check the contents.
"Get them loaded," he said before closing the box. "We'll start with Brooklyn."
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[24 advance chs] [No double billing.]
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