The Embroidered Handkerchief

By Thunderhead

Rating: NC-17 with homosexual activity, love, and basic cursing.

Warning: Spoilers for the movie. I haven't seen the movie in quite a while, I'm working from a 1995 script by Hegeland. I've never been to L.A., so if I screw it all up, you'll understand. I apologize to residents of Bisbee, I've never been there.

Pairing: Exley/White.

Disclaimer: James Ellroy, Brian Hegeland and Curtis Hanson created these characters and the screenplay. Undoubtedly the rights of ownership are now in the hands of a multi national corporation that could squash me like an insect for writing this. I guess I like an element of danger with my creativity. I certainly don't get paid for it.

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The Embroidered Handkerchief

By Thunderhead

The warm yellow glow of electric light from Exley's kitchen spilled out the window into the chill January air. Even L.A. had its winter, and all things being relative, this was a cold one. Bud White sat in his dusty Packard across the street, looking in. He rubbed his hands back and forth to get some heat, blowing into them. The engine had long since stopped pinging its fatigue as it cooled. Bud took a flask from his coat pocket and pulled a swig, which warmed him up slightly. He couldn't afford to be seen, so he waited in the cold and dark, watching. He had been there since sunset, hours ago.

Exley was inside the warmth and light of his kitchen. White could see him through the side window, moving around in there. Looked like he was making something. He wasn't alone. There was a large navy blue or black Ford sedan he didn't recognize in the driveway. That didn't deter Bud. The front curtains were drawn, but shadows could be seen against them with the lights on inside. Someone in there was pretty light on her feet. Had to be a woman, her shadow seemed to dart around too much to be a man. Then he saw her, medium length, dark hair swinging in front of her pale white face as she put something in the kitchen cabinet. At this distance, she didn't look like much, but then, who could tell what was inside the packaging? She was probably helping him set up in his new house, planning to be married soon. He shouldn't have come back. He knew it was crazy.

He told himself how crazy he was as he drove back here from Bisbee, that godforsaken mining town. Lynn had to hold on to the flower vase every day at 12:15 when they blasted for the mines. Dust everywhere. The house was never clean, Lynn just couldn't keep up. He didn't blame her. She wasn't a wife, no matter how hard she tried. He never found a job, not like there were too many options. Bud wouldn't be surprised if they ran into each other in L.A. somewhere, soon, but by this time, Lynn could be anywhere, doing anything. Dreams of a new life in a new city, that's a pretty heavy drug to kick. The reasons for coming back to a place, well, that's just in your blood. It's nearly impossible to fight, because you're not really in control of it, that maddening ache in your heart that makes you do crazy things. Maybe you're drawn to a place to finish something you started, or maybe you just can't live in the rotting corpse your town has become. Some reasons you keep secret, even to yourself. Maybe when it's all over, you'll admit why you did some of the things you did, maybe you'll never know.

All Bud knew was that it would give him some secret pleasure to sit here, in the cold, and watch Ed. Probably Ex and that girl would make love and she would leave. He could come back tomorrow night. Bud cracked his knuckles and rubbed his hands together again. He saw the shadows on the curtains come together a moment. He slunk down in his chair as he saw the front door begin to move inward, and the light come slanting across the dark porch. She was leaving already. They kissed briefly on the threshold, the heavy wooden door held open by Exley's back. Exley held open the screen door for her, and stayed there in the open door as she got in her sedan. He was smiling in the porchlight, his dark hair gleaming.

Bud thought he looked a lot more confident since they last saw each other. More like a man than a boy trying to be one. He had a lot to be proud of. Plus, he'd been through a lot. No denying that. So much shit had come down it was enough to make you run to your mother. If you had one. If not, replacements of a sort could be found. I guess he found one, thought Bud. Can't fault him for that. Bud kind of liked him better now that he knew Ex was settling down, doing what he was supposed to, when he was supposed to. Just like Ex. Ed turned and shut the door, blotting out the little rectangle of light. Bud should have known better. He felt a pain in his stomach that made him put a hand to his gut and double over. That's what happens when you don't eat with an ulcer, Bud said to himself. Time for a drink. Got to start this old bastard up and get to a bar, preferably one that no one will recognize me in. Not going to be easy. Then another lousy night's sleep in the motel room with cigarette burns on the sheets.

-------

According to Bud's watch with the glowing numbers, it was 5:50 P.M. It was pitch black again, no moon. He sat in the cold, watching from a reasonably safe distance. He had to keep one window slightly rolled down to keep the condensation from his breath off the windows. That was a dead giveaway. No smoking allowed. Noise traveled at night, too. Less ambient noise at night than during the day, so voices could blow with the cold wind to speak right in his ear from far away. So, utter silence. No radio. Time alone with one's thoughts. And one tremendous distraction.

He realized that he had reordered his life around watching Exley at night like this. This was his big event of the day. He pretended it was just another stake out, business as usual. He ignored the voice which was nagging at him, "Except you're not on the force anymore, Bud, you're not on the force." The fact of the matter was he couldn't live like this for very much longer. He thought about going down to the station house and seeing some old friends, if he could call them that, which he really couldn't. He thought about asking to see Exley one day when he was in his office and passing all this off as a lighthearted, friendly "let's catch up on old times, I was just in the neighborhood" kind of thing. He knew he could never do it.

He was sure Exley wouldn't mind seeing him, but he didn't want to be seen like this, all loose ends, a failure with Lynn, full of crazy emotion that he couldn't hide anymore. Bud knew there was a chance he could say something stupid and ruin the whole friendship. That would be truly awful. Better to sit in the car and watch. Maybe he would learn something that would make it okay for him to just walk right up to the door bell and ring it. Maybe he would learn something that would make him go away forever, drifting off like a leaf in the breeze. He was halfway there now. He could feel himself just disappearing into the night, like a character in a dime store detective novel who has run his course. He looked out the window, squinting his eyes into the darkness.

The garage door slowly opened from inside. He must have slipped in the side door, Bud hadn't even seen him. The Plymouth backed out, careful and slow. Bud started his car, keeping the headlights off until Ed was way at the end of the street. Bud remembered how smart Ed was, and he was extra cautious about following him. Hard to pull the wool over this sheep's eyes, he thought. They were headed west on Sunset. A pretty popular route, but as they got further, Bud wondered when Ed would turn off. At this rate, they weren't really heading anywhere except to the seashore. Bud thought that was strange, and suddenly it dawned on him that maybe he would be seeing something he shouldn't. He took a glance at his watch in a moment stolen from a streetlight. 6:38. Hmm, not really time for the kind of dirty dealings expected of a Chief of Detectives. And he wouldn't be doing them out in the open. What then? Something sexual? Another girl? The muscle in Bud's jaw jumped to life as he sat up straighter in his seat. What did Exley have up his pressed and decorated sleeve?

The road became crunchier under the tires. They were nearing the shore. A northern breeze lifted up into the cracks of the car, whistling mournfully. Bud slammed his hand into the dashboard, trying to bring the heater back to life. They pulled into a deserted, dark parking lot with the beach on one side. The black water seemed to lurk there ominously, churning relentlessly. Bud followed a moment too soon, not concentrating. The parking lot was completely empty except for Ed's car, and Bud was forced to be involved in whatever would happen next. Ed sped up into nothingness, then hit the brakes with a squeal, turning the wheel sharply to the left. The fat, heavy car did a 180 degree turn in two seconds. Ed's headlights were beamed directly at Bud.

"Fuck," thought Bud, "this is it." Ed had been driving like a traffic cop for 25 minutes, and now all of a sudden, this reckless move. "Well, it's all over now," Bud said out loud to nobody. He quickly lit a cigarette from the car lighter, puffing on it for just a moment. Some movement in the car, then Exley got out, slamming the door behind him with a big, angry flourish. Bud sat in the car, tapping his fingers on the dashboard, looking straight ahead as Exley came up on his left. No way to disappear now.

Exley knocked on the window forcefully. Bud, still looking straight ahead, rolled it down reluctantly. Exley's voice came through the window before it was an inch lower, his breath causing clouds of heat swiftly taken away in the cold blowing air.

"Bud, what the fuck have you been doing outside my house? Who are you working for?"

Jesus, thought Bud, this is even worse than I thought. He turned his head to face Exley, looking up at him through the window."Captain Exley, I'm not working for anybody," Bud shook his head, saying with his eyes, how could you think that? Bud put the "Captain" in there to soothe him. Butter him up a little. Bud knew he was deep in the wrong.

"Christ, Bud, you're scaring me," then, a little gentler, "Don't call me Captain. I'm not your Captain and you know it." There was a moment of silence. Bud couldn't think of anything to say.

Ed took up the reins of conversation again, "Spill. What are you doing here. I thought you were in Arizona. Why have you been watching me?"

Bud shifted in his seat, then looked away from Exley, saying "I don't know." He put out his cigarette in the car ashtray, brutally stabbing it dead.

"What?" called Ed through the open window.

Bud sprang into action quickly, surprising Exley, who jumped backwards as the car door flew open. He looked at Exley, scowling, and shouted, "I don't fucking know!"

Ed looked at Bud, backlighted by the interior carlight. It didn't smell too good in there. Like cigarettes and whiskey and something desperate. Well, thought Exley, Bud's blood was up again. "Okay, I believe you. Calm down." Bud was breathing angrily, nearly as loud as the surf, which Exley was shouting to be heard over, "Do you feel like driving some more?"

Bud seemed to come back into focus, looking hard into Exley's eyes. There was a little gleam of pleasure in them that Bud hung his heart on. "Sure." He looked over his shoulder to motion to the street, "Where are we going?"

"Back to my house, you fucking lunatic. This time, I'll follow you." Exley turned on his heel and strode quickly back to his car, feet crunching over blowing sand. Bud got back in his car and drove like a robot to Exley's house. His hands were shaking on the cold steering wheel. Much later, when he tried to, he found he couldn't remember driving to Exley's at all.

-------

"I'm glad to see you parked in front of the house like a regular citizen," said Ed to Bud as they sat at the kitchen table. Ed got up and moved around the kitchen, looking in cabinets as if he didn't know where anything was. "You interested in dinner? I think I have some tuna here. Here's a can of corned beef hash. I could make us something, how about eggs and bacon?" He opened the refrigerator to study the interior contents.

"Eggs and bacon are for breakfast," said Bud, still in a mood.

"Hey now, don't get ahead of yourself." There was a shocked pause while Bud tried to come to grips with what Ed just said. Ed continued, filling the pause, "Seriously, Bud, where are you staying?"

"This flea bag rat trap called the Modern-Aire. But it's cheap, so I'm not complaining." Bud began to crack his knuckles nervously.

"Way the hell out there? Call them, tell them you're checking out. Stay here tonight." Bud looked at Ed, all happy and innocent. "I won't hear of you staying in a motel when I have a perfectly good spare bedroom. We'll get your things and we can catch up on old business tonight." Ed was buzzing around, cooking something that sizzled in a huge iron skillet. Bud smelled the corned beef hash. "Whatever," thought Bud. Ed wasn't watching him, so he had a moment to himself. Ed paused, his back still turned to Bud, "Stop cracking your knuckles, you're driving me crazy." Bud stopped.

Bud looked around the kitchen, seeing the potholders on their little hooks, the yellow and white tile on the wall above the yellow Formica countertop. A straw napkin holder with a daisy on it held several drooping paper napkins. The maple cabinets shone in the light, brass handles gleaming, and Bud realized he was here, in the warm glow. He was in the light, not just looking at it from a distance. He was welcome, tonight. A spreading hot liquid feeling started in his belly and worked its way out to his hands, so forceful that when he reached for his glass of scotch, his hands felt swollen and hard to move. He didn't even really mind that she, whomever she was, had been all over this kitchen, arranging things so Ed couldn't find them. He was happy just for this night, this time on a cold night with someone he might regard as family. Bud closed his eyes, and heard the wind blow outside around the little bungalow. The wind he used to be sitting in. For some reason, maybe because he was tired, the tears welled up in his eyes.

Ed was moving a spoon back and forth in the pan quickly. Smoke was starting to rise from the pan. Bud got up, pushing the chair out behind him, and reached over to turn off the gas burner. He moved in very close to Ed, brushing against him. "Thanks," said Ed, "I guess it's done." Ed looked at Bud, seeing his sadness, sensing his physical strength. Ed said nothing, but he pointed in the direction of the hall phone. "Call the motel already. I'll get us some plates and forks. I think dinner needs to cool down a bit, anyway."

Bud went out to the phone, searching his pockets for the slip of paper with the phone number. It wasn't there, so he got out the directory and found it there. He made the call.

Ed leaned his hip against the counter, poking at dinner in the pan, putting it on the plates. "Strange," he thought, "Something's really wrong with Bud." He heard Bud's voice in the hall, sounding so, not exactly sad, but he couldn't remember ever seeing him like this. Not without him also being extremely violent at the same time. "What the hell happened to him?" Exley asked himself, followed quickly by, "It's none of my business." But curiosity and concern kept knocking in his heart.

-------

Sitting in the living room, trying to get the fire in the fireplace going, Ed realized they hadn't talked of anything important during dinner. Bud certainly wasn't going to offer anything, and Exley was too respectful to ask. He managed to light the kindling underneath. To imagine that Bud was sitting outside his house for days in the cold and dark, too proud to knock was a little too much for Ed to take, if he thought about it. Satisfied that the fire had caught, he sat back down on the sofa. He didn't want to know about anything if Bud didn't want to tell him. He guessed the worst, and knew he was right. It couldn't be anything else but total disaster in Bisbee, followed by emptiness in L.A.. Bud's clothes were rumpled and dirty. His collar was all stretched out and wrinkled. He looked better than when they parted, of course, but Bud wasn't exactly the picture of glowing health. Ed wasn't much of a caretaker, but sometimes anybody can rise to the occasion. "You know what, Bud? I've got a washer and dryer."

"Good for you, Ed," Bud smiled, perplexed.

"How about we get your stuff at the motel?"

"No, don't bother. They said they're charging me for the night anyway," said Bud, starting to feel the warmth of the fire, settling back into his chair, relaxed.

"I don't think so. You may not be on the force anymore but I've still got a little pull in this town." Ed was smiling, secure in his position. Bud began to fully realize the magnitude of Ed's power.

"Fuck," said Bud, a gleam coming to his eyes, "You're the new Dudley Smith."

Ed nearly sprayed his whiskey across the room. "No. No. I don't think so," he said, between coughs, holding his hand out and shaking his head.

"That's not what I meant, Exley, and you know it."

"Okay, okay, sure." Ed took his glasses off to clean them then suddenly remembered he was tired. "We're going to leave your stuff there and they're not going to charge you for it. I don't run a crooked ship like Smith did, but I'm not a saint." He put his glasses down on the coffee table and looked up at Bud impassively. Bud thought maybe he should change the subject.

"So, who's your lady?" asked Bud, figuring there was no point in pretending anymore.

"Yeah, you saw her, didn't you?" Ed exhaled regretfully, "Since you know so much about me, and I have to guess everything about you, let's have a little fun. Who do you make her for?" Bud knew the answer. Sitting talking with Ed while he had his glasses off was strangely close and intimate, like he was seeing the real Ed. Like Ed had taken off a mask instead of a small pair of gold wire-rims. He proceeded with caution, trying to keep the heartbreak out of his voice.

"You and she are going to be married. I base that on the fact that I saw her moving stuff around in the kitchen. That's pretty serious. And you kissed her." If Bud hadn't looked so cut up about it, Ed would have let him continue to think that. But not tonight, thought Ed.

"I am legally unable to marry her," offered Ed.

"Wow. She's already married?" Bud was kind of impressed, in spite of his jealousy.

"She's my sister." Ed laughed, and put his glasses back on. Bud let out a huge sigh of relief before he could think about its implications. He tried to cover it up by laughing at himself. Ed had heard it, though, and his heart leapt at the possibility sitting before him.

Ed sat up straight, staring into the fire, trying to keep his mouth from hanging open. Suddenly, it all fell into place. Everything explained itself with this hypothesis. It must be true. He needed to drink, a little Dutch courage. He downed his glass and refilled it, offering more to Bud, who took just a little. Ed felt ever so slightly guilty about drinking tonight, now that he knew how it was going to play out. Ed raised his glass, proposing a toast, "To the solving of crimes that require absolute justice."

"Absolute justice," echoed Bud.

The truth of the matter was that Ed never gave a fucking damn about what anybody thought of him. If he wanted something, he went for it, like Alexander burning his bridges behind him. Ed was Chief because he was a master of circumstances, and a persuader of strong, powerful men. He never choked in a tight spot. Bud was going to fold like a bicycle hitting a Mack truck. Ed didn't think Bud would mind the impact. Bud got up to put a log on the dying fire. Ed watched him move across the room, thinking about how nice it felt to have a man around the house. He let out a soft bark of laughter.

Bud, bent over in front of the fire, turned his head up, catching the full glow in his face. He looked amused, like he was laughing just because Ed was laughing. "What?" Bud asked, wanting to be let in on the joke. He stood up and approached Ed. Ed got up, ignoring Bud's question, and put down his drink on the coffee table.

"Let's get you out of those clothes. You need a shower," Exley left the room, sure that Bud would follow. Bud watched Exley, looking so neat and well cared for. Like a damn Boy Scout, thought Bud. A Boy Scout that's killed lots of men, he remembered midway through his thought. A Boy Scout that had this huge, rotten, beautiful city in his back pocket.

Bud followed, and watched him get some towels out of the linen cabinet in the hallway. Ed turned, giving them to Bud. "Fabric softener. Jesus, what next?" said Bud, smiling.

"What's the matter Bud, don't you like things soft?" Ed said, raising his eyebrows.

Bud shrank away from that a little, then answered, "Sure."

"They smell good, too," continued Exley, smiling back at Bud, "unlike someone I could mention." Ed turned and shut the linen closet with his heel, then pointed to a door a few feet away. "Get in the damn shower."

Bud held the sea green towels under his arm, and opened the doorknob of the bathroom with the other. He was not surprised to see the bathroom was clean and in pristine condition. It had white tile again, like the kitchen, radiating and reflecting the light from the cut glass fixture in the ceiling. Nothing too fancy, chrome fixtures, one frosted glass window, wood trim painted white all around. A deep white tub with a frosted glass shower door. He looked at his face in the medicine cabinet mirror. He didn't know who was looking back.

Ed thumbed through the hangers in his closet, looking for a second robe. He was wearing the first, his clothes neatly folded and stacked on the bedroom chair, his watch and glasses in their places on the dresser. In addition to the green terry cloth robe, he wore dark blue fuzzy slippers. It was cold on the hardwood floors in January. He couldn't find any slippers for Bud, but he didn't think he'd mind all that much. At last he found the robe he was thinking of. It was heavy flannel, maroon, with a big serrated Southwestern design on it in beige and forest green. "Excellent," thought Ed. "Now I've got to give it to him." A cheap ploy, he knew, but it would probably be effective.

Walking out into the hall, Ed heard the gushing of the showerhead. He was seized by apprehension and desire mixed in an intense high. He knew Bud wanted him, possibly loved him, but this was crossing the line. Technically, they could go to jail for this. Sodomy, they called it in the damn code. Then it hit Exley, and he laughed again to himself. Who would arrest them?

He stood for a minute or two outside the door gathering himself together and preparing for battle. His head made a tiny, involuntarily jerk. Bud might try to hit him again, possibly very hard. He could deal with that, although he thought it unlikely given Bud's current mental state. Exley was sure his deductions were flawless, but Bud was a wild card, he could go any direction at any given moment.

"A few minutes and you'll know, Ed," he thought to himself, "so step up to the plate." He knocked once on the door to the bathroom. Bud couldn't hear him through the shower noise, which Ed was counting on. Ed opened the door and stepped into steam and a cloud of soapy fragrance. "Hey, I've got a robe here for you, for when you're finished."

"Thanks," came the reply through the shower door.

"I'll just put it on the hook, here." Ed did so.

"You make this any nicer, and I'll never want to leave."

"You got enough hot water? I just installed a 25 gallon tank," said Ed. That was it, thought Bud, one sentence too many. Ed was loitering in here. Loitering with intent. Enough screwing around.

"Sure. Hey Ed?"

"Yes?"

"Get in here." Bud slid open the shower door for Ed. He shrugged out of his robe, letting it drop on the floor. Getting into the shower slowly, he thought yet again that the best conclusions a man could have are the ones you lead him to find on his own. The hot water barely registered on his skin as he looked into Bud's eyes. In them he found the heat that had been driving the engine of Bud's violence. There was something terribly fragile in them that needed to be protected. That was why he was so vicious at times, thought Ed, it was because he had inside him this shattering weakness. No, thought Ed, not weakness. Tenderness.

Ed faced Bud and began to run his fingers through Bud's short cropped hair, rinsing it out as the water splashed down on him. They were both ready, and the passion sparking between them said it had better be fast. They moved together into each other's space, feeling Bud's soapy chest and the hot water join them in a slippery embrace. Bud had the soap in his right hand, and he moved it up and down Ed's back. Exley stretched back into it like a cat, his open mouth catching the spray.

Bud, deeply aroused by the sight of water droplets on Ed's open mouth, nuzzled his neck fiercely, grazing his teeth against Ed's skin. Bud let out a moan of desire that electrified Exley. Ed's head dropped back in pleasure, as he pushed himself harder against Bud, causing Bud to take a couple steps back out of the spray. Bud's wide, strong hands spanned around Ed's waist commandingly. He watched the water for a moment as it rolled down Ed's chest and past his groin. Ed snapped to attention, looking deeply into the flame in Bud's eyes, wanting to be sure he understood the wordless message.

Bud made it abundantly clear, quickly turning Ed around with his hands and placing him directly under the water. Ed spread his hands out for support as Bud bent him over and began soaping him up. Bud's thick fingers loaded with soap found their place and began to ease the way into Exley. Ed let out a shuddering cry, his trembling hand causing the shower door to quake under its pressure.

All things considered, Bud was taking his time, not taking Ed quickly and without mercy as his passion told him to. If this moment was all they had, Bud wanted Ed to remember him fondly. Bud ran his left hand gently down Ed's back, trying to relax him. Bud leaned his head forward to whisper in Ed's ear the sweetest words he could find, "Just ease up now, you beautiful colt. I love you so much, just let me do this, I swear to God I'll do anything you say. Just let me love you." Ed nodded his head impatiently, not really hearing anything Bud was whispering in his ear.

"Are you gonna do it?" asked Exley, his voice shaking with anticipation. Bud felt slightly chastised for his consideration, and began fucking Ed, still starting slowly. His hands moved Ed's hips back and forth with each stroke, the water splashing off Ed's back. Ed began to writhe against Bud's pressure, meeting Bud's rhythm as they increased speed. Ed felt himself burn stretching to accommodate Bud. The physical act was not as pleasurable as the knowledge that Bud was inside him, taking what he wanted from him, sure to find release there. Ed felt a pressure in his throat with each stroke, like Bud was fucking him all the way through. It was all Ed could do to continue breathing. But it was a powerful feeling, of that Ed was sure.

Bud couldn't take anymore. He threw back his head and let out a huge yell as he climaxed inside Ed, his knees nearly giving out. Barely managing to keep control, Bud released Ed and sank to his knees, bending himself forward. He was alone in that position for a moment, the water splashing off his bent head. Ed stood up gingerly, still touching the walls for support, and turning around, saw Bud collapsed in a kneeling crouch on the floor of the tub. Ed leaned over and shut off the tap, letting out a deep breath. He opened the shower door, content not to communicate with Bud just then.

Ed stepped on his robe trying to get to the towels and dried himself off. He put on his green terry cloth robe and looked past the shower door to check on Bud. Bud felt the cold air of the bathroom invade the steamy air of the shower and he looked up at Ed. Ed saw he was crying, but trying to hide it. Ed bent down and looked lovingly into Bud's eyes, tilting his head to one side as if he was listening. Suddenly Bud began to sob, great heaving sobs that cut through Ed and alarmed him deeply. Ed didn't know what exactly to do. He tried to pull Bud up out of the tub, and on the third try he got through to Bud and got his cooperation.

Bud stood in the middle of the bathroom, aware now that it was time to stop crying, but overwhelmed by the flood of emotion that had been unleashed in his body. Exley dried him off, patting Bud with the towel like he was a baby. He shook a towel around Bud's head to dry his hair, and that seemed to start to snap Bud out of it. Bud was able to help Ed get the maroon robe on him. Ed opened the door of the bathroom, relieved to be getting out into colder air. Ed walked him to his bedroom, and sat him down on the bed. He pushed Bud's shoulders back gently, easing him to a flat position, and arranging pillows behind his head. Bud put his feet up on to the bed one at a time. Ed left, saying he was going to make tea.

As Ed walked to the kitchen, he felt a strange new awareness in his body, a sensual pain from being opened up. That would have excited him all over again, but he was very worried about the man on his bed. He filled the kettle, feeling the weight of it tell him when it was full. He lit the stove and put down the teapot, and tried to find the Lipton. He was almost certain that Bud would not drink tea, but he would like some for himself. He walked back to the bedroom, waiting for the water to boil. Bud was up, seated on the side of the bed. Ed came over and sat down next to him, putting his arm around Bud's solid back.

"You okay?" Ed smiled hopefully at Bud, wishing he would snap back together.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm alright. I'm really sorry about that. I don't know what happened." Exley thought perhaps he did know, but what point was there in talking about it? Bud looked into Ed's eyes searching for forgiveness. Ed couldn't name all the things Bud was troubled about or just how much forgiveness he would need. But he did know that Bud was here with him now, the Bud that no one else knew. Ed leaned towards him and took his face in his hands sweetly. Then they kissed for the first time.

"There's no need to be sorry, Bud" said Ed, close to Bud's face, "I understand."

"Listen, when it's just me and you," and Bud snorted a laugh and looked at the floor to continue, "if there is a me and you, when we're alone, I'd like you to call me by my name."

"Sure, Wendell." The teakettle began to whistle, and Ed left to attend to it.

-------

Two officers working the late beat drove around Capt. Exley's neighborhood just to check it out. They passed by his house at 1:03 a.m., seeing it dark and quiet like it should be. Their wide, fat tires sucked on the asphalt street as they slowed down to take a look.

"You remember Bud White?" said one to the other.

"Do I?! I'm still trying to forget that time-"

"Yeah, well look," the other cop interrupted, "I think that's his car in front of the Captain's house."

"Holy Jesus, what is he up to?"

"Probably he's starting to do the same job he always has. You may not have liked him, but he did what Smith wanted him to."

"Yeah, but all the lights are off." They thought about that for a moment, driving away. They sat in silence for a few minutes. One cop spoke first.

"Do you think those two might be queers?"

The other cop laughed a little nervously, then said, "Now why the hell would you go and think something stupid like that? You'll never make detective."

The End

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