Chapter 18: The Conference Romance - Part 3
POV: Kole Martinez
Saturday afternoon in Prospect Park arrived with the kind of perfect autumn weather that made Brooklyn feel like the center of the universe. Cool air carried the promise of winter while leaves painted the landscape in shades of gold and crimson. Kole walked through the park entrance with takeout coffee and nervous energy, preparing for what felt like their first real date without professional interruptions.
Second chance. Time to do this right.
Jessica waited by the lake, feeding ducks with bread she'd apparently brought specifically for that purpose. The sight of her casual generosity toward random waterfowl made something warm and complicated flutter in Kole's chest.
She's exactly who she appears to be. No pretense, no performance, just genuine kindness toward everything around her.
"Afternoon, Detective Martinez," she said as he approached, offering him coffee with smile that could power the city.
"Just Kole, remember? We're off duty."
"Right. Just Kole and just Jessica, having a perfectly normal date in a perfectly normal park."
If only she knew how abnormal everything about my existence really is.
They walked along the park's winding paths, conversation flowing with easy rhythm that suggested genuine compatibility rather than forced politeness. Jessica talked about her teaching philosophy with passionate intensity that revealed the depth of her commitment to helping children learn and grow.
"I have this theory," she said, gesturing expressively while they navigated around families and joggers, "that every kid who acts out or shuts down is really just trying to be seen. They're sending signals that they need connection, but adults get caught up in behavior management instead of addressing the underlying need for recognition."
Every kid who acts out is trying to be seen.
The irony is devastating. I'm invisible too, the real me hidden behind Detective Martinez's borrowed identity.
"That sounds like exactly what those kids need," Kole said honestly. "Someone who sees past the behavior to the person underneath."
"Exactly! Like this student I had last year—Marcus. He was constantly disrupting class, getting into fights, refusing to do assignments. Everyone said he was just a troublemaker, but I noticed he was always trying to make people laugh. So instead of punishing the humor, I found ways to channel it productively."
Finding ways to channel disruptive behavior productively. Jessica understands redemption in ways that most people never consider.
"What happened?"
"He became the class comedian—in good ways. He'd help me explain difficult concepts through funny examples, and he started mediating conflicts between other students. Turned out he wasn't disruptive, he was a natural leader who'd never been given appropriate outlets."
Natural leader who'd never been given appropriate outlets.
Maybe that's what I am too. Someone with abilities that could be constructive if I ever found the right context for honesty.
Jessica asked about his life before the Nine-Nine, and Kole found himself sharing fragments of truth wrapped in necessary lies.
"I've always felt a little displaced," he said carefully. "Like I was trying to fit into a world that was designed for different kinds of people."
The most honest thing I've said in months.
"I know exactly what you mean," Jessica replied with understanding that felt like recognition. "I spent most of my life feeling like everyone else got instruction manuals for being normal adults and I somehow missed distribution day."
She understands displacement. Not the supernatural kind, but the fundamental human experience of not quite fitting anywhere.
"How do you handle it?" Kole asked.
"I stopped trying to fit in and started trying to be helpful instead. Turns out when you focus on contributing something valuable, belonging sort of follows naturally."
Contributing something valuable. Maybe that's what I'm doing at the Nine-Nine, even if the methods are unconventional.
They discovered street musicians playing near the park's center—an acoustic duo performing covers with genuine skill and infectious enthusiasm. Jessica's face lit up with delight, and before Kole realized what was happening, she was dancing.
Unselfconscious, joyful movement. She doesn't care who's watching or what anyone thinks.
"Come on," she called, reaching for his hand. "They're really good!"
Kole's combat adaptation kicked in automatically, reading Jessica's movements and responding with fluid grace that made dancing feel like conversation between bodies. His borrowed abilities made him a perfect partner, anticipating her steps and matching her energy with supernatural precision.
I'm using powers to dance with her. Even this moment is built on deception.
But Jessica's laugh was pure delight, and for those minutes moving together to improvised music, Kole forgot about transmigration and borrowed abilities and impossible circumstances. He was just someone dancing with someone he cared about, being present in borrowed time that felt more real than any moment since his impossible arrival in this universe.
"You're full of surprises," Jessica said breathlessly as the song ended.
If she only knew.
They found a bench overlooking the lake, settling into comfortable proximity while afternoon light filtered through autumn leaves. Jessica talked about authenticity with the passionate conviction of someone who'd learned to value honesty through painful experience.
"I used to try so hard to be what other people wanted," she said, tucking hair behind her ear in the gesture his memory had catalogued. "Quieter, less enthusiastic, more conventionally attractive. But it never worked because I was basically trying to be someone else entirely."
Trying to be someone else entirely. Story of my life.
"Now I figure if people find me too much, they're probably not my people anyway. Better to be genuinely myself and find the right connections than fake my way into wrong ones."
Better to be genuinely myself.
The words hit like physical force. Jessica values authenticity while dating someone whose entire existence is fabrication.
Kole felt something breaking apart in his chest—the weight of deception colliding with genuine care for someone who deserved so much better than lies.
"She talks about authenticity like it's sacred, and I'm sitting here wearing someone else's face, carrying someone else's memories, pretending to be someone who doesn't exist. How is that fair to her? How is any of this fair?"
"I could tell her. Right now, right here, I could try to explain the impossible truth. That I'm from another reality where she was a fictional character until she became real. That I have supernatural abilities I can't explain. That everything she thinks she knows about me is elaborate deception designed to hide the fact that I don't technically exist."
"But what would I say? 'Jessica, I need to tell you something. I'm actually from another dimension where you starred in a television show called New Girl, and I transmigrated into the body of a detective with impossible powers'? She'd think I was having a psychotic breakdown."
"The truth is too impossible to share, but the lies are becoming impossible to maintain. Every moment of genuine connection is contaminated by fundamental dishonesty about who I really am."
"She deserves someone real. Someone whose feelings for her aren't complicated by impossible knowledge of her fictional counterpart. Someone who can love her for who she is without the weight of knowing her as a character first."
"But I can't give her that someone, because I can't stop being who I am. And I can't tell her who I am because the truth would destroy everything we're building."
"So I'll keep lying. I'll keep pretending. I'll keep building something beautiful on foundations of deception, knowing that eventually—inevitably—it will all collapse into betrayal and hurt."
The weight of it threatened to crush him. Kole leaned over and kissed Jessica, pouring all the truth he couldn't voice into the contact. Everything he felt for her, everything he wished he could be, everything he wanted to give her if only he were real enough to deserve her.
She kissed back with warmth and promise, her hand finding his with gentle pressure that suggested feelings were mutual and growing.
She cares about me. Really cares about me.
About someone who doesn't exist.
When they broke apart, Jessica's smile was radiant.
"I'm really glad we're doing this," she said softly.
"Me too."
More than you'll ever know.
Less than you deserve.
They made promises about maintaining long-distance contact, exchanged schedules for future conferences and potential visits, built plans around the assumption that Detective Kole Martinez was someone who existed independently of supernatural circumstances and borrowed identity.
Promises built on lies. Plans that require continued deception.
But also the most genuine connection I've felt since transmigration.
As evening approached and Jessica prepared to return to her hotel before her early flight, Kole realized he was falling in love with someone who thought she was falling in love with him back.
But there is no him. There's just me, wearing someone else's life and hoping nobody notices the seams.
"I'll call you when I get back to LA," Jessica said, kissing him goodbye with obvious reluctance.
"I'll be here."
Literally. I'll be here because I can't go anywhere else.
Trapped in this identity, in this reality, in these deceptions that are becoming more complex and more necessary with every passing day.
Jessica's taxi disappeared into Brooklyn traffic, taking with it the warmth of genuine connection and leaving behind the cold weight of accumulated lies. Kole walked home through autumn evening air, carrying guilt and longing in equal measure.
I love her.
She loves someone who doesn't exist.
And somehow, I have to make that work.
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