Homesickness & Relative Happiness: Crockett X Tubbs: Miami Vice

Untitled Part 1

Sonny must have caught her staring at the ol' black and white photo of her now-deceased brother. It is of the few personal possessions that she kept folded away in her wallet next to her New York driver's license. She hasn't yet found the time nor the patience to update her address with the sloths over at the DMV. A smile, hollow and haunted, finds purchase upon her lips for but a brief moment.

Somedays, Tubbs found it hard not to be nostalgic for the stuffy breath of the Big Apple and the city's hurried pace. Today, happened to be one of them.

Miami was beautiful. Hell, it belonged on thousands of postcards. The kinds that tourists bought by the dozens. After all, Miami has been deemed America's Vacation Land. But she was still trying to salvage what little was left of a life in extreme turmoil which, could be likened to trying to piece a shattered glass together with only half of its original parts. Yet, internally, she knows she can not return to her home up North or they'd definitely fry her for misconduct. And quite frankly, she is surprised they hadn't come down South looking for her. Tubbs supposes they didn't have the manpower or energy to do so. Which, by virtue, made her incredibly lucky.

Soft hues of coffee and evergreen dare to drift Crockett's way when he speaks. A semblance of guilt and shame creep into the unwavering pupils. Sonny seemed unusually nervous with his line of inquiry and this causes Tubbs to quietly slip her wallet and all its contents back into the drawer of her desk. He then managed to capture her undivided attention.

Of all the things she had been expecting to be asked, happiness had not even made the top fifty-percent of the list. In fact, almost no one in the unit had seemed to care about the state of her emotions except for dear Sonny. "I... suppose I am. I'm still kinda getting used to everyone and everything." She starts, her voice at first coming off as distant yet maintaining its eternal warmth. Happiness was certainly a relative term and subject to interpretation. But before she could continue, he tacks on another part of his question. This time striking a chord much closer to her heart and far more personal!

Her hands instinctively reach across their combined desks to grab his larger ones. "Sonny," his name departs her tongue with effortless endearment. "I..." Butterflies seize over the rapid fluttering of her heart. She already loved him so much, it hurt her heart to see him looking mildly dejected. "I am so happy here with you. You saved my life not to mention my career, in more ways than one. I really owe you." Tubbs professes. "Out of all my partners, I like you the best. We work well together, man. And no amount of money can buy the kind of chemistry we have." Oh, no?! She had said it. Perhaps too much. Twinges of crimson, far deeper than bing cherry push into the upper crests of her cheekbones.

"Why?" She ponders aloud in return. Tubbs had recognized the unease embodied by every inch of his physical features. "Listen, if this is about my complaining about my living arrangements to Lou... don't worry. I've decided that working with you is worth dealing with the Cuban bikers from Hell." Naturally, she was still displeased about having to be stuck in what was little more than a glorified drug-house. Yet, it really was aiming a little too high to think she'd be granted a more cushy lifestyle right off the bat.