muse_shuffle: Application (March Disc Two)

3. Cos when our eyes did meet >> Girl you know I was packin' heat (Beck – ‘Debra’)

I don’t think I’ll ever forget my wedding day. It was enough for me to learn to never jump that far into a relationship without being absolutely certain it’s what you want. It wasn’t your typical scenario. I was twenty, she was nineteen. We thought we were so much in love that no one could ever possibly have been in love as much as we were. That’s the beauty when you’re young; everything seems so amplified and intense.

But things didn’t go how we expected them to. She fell pregnant. The damn condom broke, which we realised as soon as the bedroom finale was reached. To say we both shat ourselves in fright was very much an understatement. There was no morning after pill in those days, just two sets of potentially angry parents. So, we did what we thought was the best option at that point – pretended it didn’t happen and went on our merry little ways.

Of course, three weeks later, I was sitting beside her in the dingy bathroom at her work, gaping like a fish out of water at the little white stick with a blue line in her hand. It wasn’t the most romantic proposal, but I did get down on one knee and declare my love for her and promise I would stick by her. I had all intentions of doing so, as well. We told our parents and despite lots of resonant “debate” on the subject, both parties agreed us getting married was the best option.

Another two weeks later, I was standing beside her in the court house in a tux that pinched in all the wrong places, staring at the lacklustre bunch of roses she had clutched in her hand to try and keep myself from throwing up in fright. I spent the whole first portion of the ceremony hunched over like that, eyes planted on the flowers until my brother hissed at me from behind (he was my Best Man, of course, and spent the reception bonking the only bridesmaid in the hotel supply closet) to look at the bride. My eyes snapped up and met hers and I really must’ve looked like I was facing the gallows, because she leaned in and asked me if I was okay. As I was nodding, she took my hand and it seemed to make things so much better. We got through it, and although it never really felt as right as it should, I convinced myself things would be okay.

The following month, she lost the baby. We tried for two years to make the marriage work, but it wasn’t meant to be. Who really knows where I would be now if things had turned out differently? But I have no regrets on that front, so I guess that’s just the name of the game of life.

Muse | Special Agent James Campbell, Original Character
Words | 475

the_bigshow: Application, March Prompt

2.5 – 3E. Criminal Justice

“He what?!”

James glanced up from his computer screen with a smirk. “Pissed himself on the stand,” he repeated. “If that’s not guilt, nothing is.”

His colleague, Frank, snorted. “You didn’t have to sit there after him, did you? Nothing like sharing bodily fluids with the bastard you took down in a screaming heap,” he commented.

“Hell no. I said my peace on Monday. He knows his chances of the death penalty. I guess I’d be pissing myself too if I was facing that. Of course, I would never have kidnapped and raped six twelve year old girls.” James sat back and rubbed his hand over his face, stretching the tired muscles in his back that came from sitting on the hard court benches.

Frank perched on the edge of James’ desk, picking up his slinky and starting to toss it back and forth between his palms. “You’ll be glad to see the end of this one,” he noted, recognising the strained edges around his friend’s eyes. He’d worked with James for years, way back even before James moved into their current department.

“I want to see him on his way to burning in hell. We chased him for months. If I have to spend a few days in court to get a flicker of satisfaction, it’s more than worth the numb arse,” James replied with a small shrug of his shoulders.

“He wouldn’t be wanting his cell mates getting wind of his little faux pas on the stand.”

James’ smirk danced on the corner of his lips. “No, he wouldn’t, would he?” he said calmly, going back to his computer and bringing up his email.

Frank cocked an eyebrow. “What have you done, Campbell?” he asked slowly.

“I just ensured a little added serve of criminal justice. Call it closing the case,” James mused, hitting delete to get rid of an advert for Viagra. Frank just laughed, glancing at his mate knowingly and then walked away shaking his head.


Muse | Special Agent James Campbell, Original Character
Words | 330

quotethis_muses: Application

The will to be stupid is a very powerful force, but there are always alternatives. >> Lois McMaster Bujold (Brothers in Arms)

James couldn’t quite figure out how he ended up in a much worse state than his brother at his brother’s Stag Night. Not only did he wake up handcuffed to a lamp post down the street from his apartment, but he was in a skirt (with no underwear) and his face was painted blue ala the movie Braveheart. For someone that had a reputation as a bit of a savvy cop, he couldn’t fathom how he had allowed himself to get so piss-drunk that he ended up in such a pathetic state. He’d always made it a point to keep his drinking under control; he despised being out of control as much as he despise being hung over.

Still, his only brother was getting married and he had vague recollections of agreeing to let his hair down a little and enjoy Mark’s “last night of freedom”. In fact, that was probably one of the final recollections he had of the night. He decided he must’ve had his drink spiked, though when he’d tried to interrogate his brother’s best mate about the fact, all he got was a round of raucous laughter and a cheesy rendition of the chorus of ‘Bad Boys’ sung not-so-lovingly down the phone line. That wasn’t a particularly new thing. Apparently in the minds of his brother’s mates, being in the FBI was a close enough jump to being a cop, hence the regular onslaught James received of the Cops theme song. James had never found it amusing.

On the upside of the whole night, whoever had done it to him had the kind-hearted mindset to duct tape the keys of his cuffs to his forehead. Lovely, considering his hands were cuffed behind his back. He only got rescused from the whole ordeal when his work mate came by to see why he hadn’t shown up for work. After being the brunt of a wave of tear-inducing and mocking laughs, his friend had unlocked the cuffs and James had managed a feeble late call in sick to work with the mumbled excuse to his boss that he “had food poisoning”. Somehow “I’m hungover and strapped to a post in a skirt with my own cuffs” needed to be kept firmly under his belt.

To this day, he still doesn’t know exactly what happened save for the fact he found out later his brother came out relatively scratch free from the whole incident with nothing more than a minor hangover. It hardly seemed fair.

But you know what they say about friends and family. If he could’ve picked his brother, he would’ve chosen a dog.

Muse | Special Agent James Campbell, Original Character
Words | 437

For sixwordstories

I so do NOT heavy breathe.