Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue, etc etc.

They come to her tonight, seemingly out of nowhere and yet wholly inborn, like a dormant volcano that has been waiting to happen, to just rise.

No longer can these thoughts sleep.

She can feel the words simmer on her tongue as they lay together in bed, surrounded by the sweet heat of adulation this night has fashioned.

Five days to go.

And she finally finds the courage to form these words and allow them ghost her lips, dancing across in hopes for an eruption.

She won't swallow them this occasion; she's running out of time. These words will do, striking her at midnight as she turns affably onto her side to look at her.

"I promised myself I wouldn't ask. I told myself I wouldn't, but I have to. I have to otherwise I'll never forgive myself if I never did." Her eyes lift to glimpse her face, pocketing the soft contours of her appearance as she takes a breath. The air feeling particularly cold for some reason as she sucks it in, causing her jaw to clench briefly before she promptly swipes her lips with her tongue.

This needs to be right; it needs to be said in such a way it doesn't backfire.

That this will be taken seriously, and that she can feel okay in saying it.

That she will be okay in asking.

Because never has she ever needed, said, or asked for something so important in her life.

"Stay. Just.. Please stay? I want you to." She inhales deeply, forcing her hand to gingerly caress the arm on display, forcing herself to reach out and connect in any which way that she can even though her heart is thumping in her chest.

Her body aches, oh how it hurts, because this arm will be gone soon.

And so she takes shelter in knowing it's still here as she delights in trailing her fingers tenderly up and down the expanse of olive skin in front of her.

The motion is hypnotizing and detains her attention.

She could do this for hours.

She has done this for hours.

And she wants nothing more than to keep reliving these strokes, always. For there is a life to be led in the remembrance of the anatomy; retracing every arc and crevice to acknowledge each notable change throughout the years.

The body is a temple that will harvest these alterations with time.

Time she wants to have, and to allocate toward this person - for no other body will ever capture her like this one.

"I'm in love with you." It's a breathless truth that causes her voice to break, struggling under the weight of admission for she never envisioned telling her like this.

The words are enough to still her mind and her hand as she waits.

She just waits.

And listens.

After a beat she finally rounds up her nerves to look at her face, watching as she smiles almost disconsolately.

"I do. I'm so in love with you, and I want you to stay." She welcomes the silence, even feeds off it as she sighs softly, not worrying about it as she adjusts her position on the bed when she finds merely facing her is no longer enough.

She needs to be closer, needs to be near her: has to breathe her in like it's an exigency.

For this woman has been nothing but pure, unadulterated air since the very first moment she met her. And sure, too much can be lethal.

But too much can also be fucking paradise.

And she's not yet ready to let this dizzy spell go. She just wants to inhale and carry on because it's the most she's ever had in her life. It's the most she's ever felt and allowed herself to feel in her entire life.

So imagining not having that anymore conflicts her, scares her to the core.

"I keep thinking what your life will be like without me. What work will be like for you, where it'll take you. Who you'll meet, what woman you'll eventually fall for. What sort of life you'll have." She rests her forehead against hers then, her mouth opening slightly as she stares at her, just taking the time to really see her up close.

And it almost breaks her heart because there are only five more days left, only five more days where she'll be able to do this.

120 hours.

"In all this time, I really thought you'd be my constant. The one who would stay. And now all I can think is that life really does suck, because we're right in so many ways, and yet not in so many others."

Her hand snakes up to her head then, desperate to tease the magnificent tresses that cascade over her bare shoulder and down her chest.

It's a wonder, a privilege, and it's a sight that will only be available for such a finite amount of days, hours and seconds now. It hardly seems fair when at one point it appeared they had all the time in world.

432000 seconds.

"I think about what will happen to you, who you'll end up being without me. You're gonna rock at your job because you're already the best at it. You'll write and publish more journals, lead lectures and seminars because you secretly do enjoy them, even though you complain about doing them. It's not even the attention you enjoy; it's knowing you're making an impact on these people, you're teaching them to think and to learn new, awesome creepy things." Her eyes narrow as she draws in some air, her eyes closing momentarily under the influence of these words before forcing them back open.

She needs to see her as she says these words.

"I think I know no matter what that you'll be a mom. And I know you worry about it, but I know you, Holly. Being raised in Foster Care doesn't mean you won't know how to be a good parent, it's just not possible. You've got more warmth than my morning coffee, and I like that stuff hot. You're quick on your feet and wicked smart. Kids love you, so you can't let this fear eat you up okay? I see you. I feel you. And you're going to be a wonderful mom someday."

Her hand threads through the dark locks one last time before settling on her cheek, cupping delicately.

"You've got the best of everything; you'll be the best mother ever." She blinks, trying to rid of the tears collecting in her eyes as she swallows audibly. She's aware of the silence now, and it prickles her.

So the words rush out.

"It'll be the best decision you'll ever make. It'll trump San Francisco and it'll trump accolades; it'll trump them all. Because I know you'll have children, even without me. I wish I could be around to see it; I just wish you could stick around to watch it happen for me."

How was she to know that this person was to influence her the most? That this seemingly innocent, nerdy M.D. would change her world swiftly and so goddamn irreversibly? With those eyes; those browns, the deepest and kindest and loveliest she has ever seen. Hidden initially behind rimmed glasses, those pesky things that threw her off and made her assess Holly that much harder in the cold, sodden woods.

And that bloody lunchbox.

She should have known then that this person, though unsuspecting, would deal her a strong hand. For she dealt her with a cloakroom kiss, and a night of batting cage mirth:

She dealt her with sweet hospitality, and late night conversations.

She dealt her with a sick courier's folder, and an observation room kiss.

She dealt her with a remedying haircut, and a reviving cold shower.

She dealt her with tidings that brought hilarity and tender limbs that itched closer to her own until one day she implored them upon her body without the tiniest disinclination.

Those months were new and untimely, yet filled to the brim with so much enchantment. She can't recall the last time she felt so relaxed, and was so lax in somebody else's company.

This is what love brings; it's everything Holly has brought.

It's in every caress, however slight, for it is imbued with meaning.

It's in every look, however short, for it encompasses affection and serenity and home.

It's in every word, however contrived, for it goes to the ends of the earth and back to show they carry the weight of every action, consequence, confession and promise.

It's in every kiss, however chaste, for it tastes like love; morning breath, afternoon coffee, evening fatigue and night relief.

But now that hand has been subtracted, it's no longer valid: a mere flicker of potential that never stood the chance to blossom and become a reality. And here she is, watching everything take course and change so completely without even moving from this space they inhabit.

A place Holly will soon vacate.

And so she lets this knowledge swirl as she grapples with it, protesting briefly until it wins; spreading throughout her body like a fever. She burns all over. Yet the mark will be superficial at best; a minor singe that will eventually scorch the skin of her heart once the days are up.

Because they are numbered.

But she decides then this blemish is okay, that it's worthwhile, for this love will be enough for her entire lifelong. She will carry it with her until she perishes, much like this singular night that endeavours forward, paving way for morning.

It's all inevitable, and she realizes that.

"I'm really going to miss you." She plants the most delicate kiss ever conceived on the face of the most wonderful person she's ever known, wanting nothing more than to forget this moment right here, and yet longing - no matter how less - to wake her up.

To just wake her up and tell her all of these things needing to be heard.

But instead she pulls her lips away, making haste to lick them quickly as she appraises Holly in her quiet slumber.

She untangles herself from the bed then, tentative in her approach to not rouse her as she makes her way out of the room; not knowing Holly's breathing has come to an abrupt halt and that her eyes are laborious to open, leaking her very own tears as she watches her walk away.

If you go, if you go
Leave me down here on my own
Then I'll wait for you

Sing it, please, please, please
Come back and sing to me, to me, me
Come on and sing it out, now, now
Come on and sing it out, to me, me
Come back and sing it.

The italic lyrics at the end is from the song In My Place by Coldplay.