You press your lips to her temple, or at least for one last time - you think you do, you tell yourself you did.

"I'm sorry, Maura, I am."

You wrap yourself around her, and you tell yourself that you're safe, you're real - she's here. When she isn't.

"I'm sorry, Maura, I am. I am."

I'm just not strong enough to want to love or live life without you.

It'll be a long fall, it won't be an instant - not really. But maybe I can stay, without being or becoming; without bringing you coffee. I can come be asleep with you, near me. It hasn't been an instant - not for me.

"I'm sorry."

A/N: Thank you, for everything - and this is it. Please don't be sad, nor take any blame - for there's no such need. It's on me.