A/N: Two-shot. This is what happens when I don't want to write an essay. Please review!

Also, I am still working on Marchin On, but I needed a break from that. Next chapter of Marchin On should be up in 2-5 days. Sorry for the delay.

Sometimes there is no happy ending. That's why Lanie Parish waits across the street from of an apartment building in Queens, feeling somewhat nervous. She shouldn't be, really, and she knows this, but ever since their break-up, things had been strained between her and Esposito. Though part of it was her fault, really it was mostly Javier. If only he hadn't been such an egotistical, controlling man with a wandering eye… If only she hadn't completely fallen for him.

True, he did seem to want to make amends, and that only made it worse. Between fighting and her pushing him away, she'd almost forgotten why they'd broken up in the first place. I mean, it had been a rough day, and… and… she hadn't wanted to commit, though she really couldn't say why. But why couldn't she just say that to him?

He had really seemed to have fallen for her, and fallen hard. Honestly, it was great when it lasted. He was smart, handsome, and charming, very charming. He always treated her with utmost respect, and made her feel really beautiful. Plus, he was one of the few that could stand up to her, and she loved it. His embrace was strong and comforting, and he always made her feel better. And now, he still hadn't given up of her. He was still waiting, still trying to change her mind.

That familiar black detective car pulled up to the curb in front of her, and out stepped Javier Esposito. Today, he was unaccompanied by his partner, Kevin Ryan, who was still on his honeymoon. Javier wore a simple grey t-shirt and jeans, with his police badge on a chain around his neck.

"Hola, Chica!" It's his customary greeting for her. It pulls at her heart, infusing more doubt in her than anything else could. A smile is begging for permission to appear, but she forces it away, instead inviting a frown to be present.

"I hope this is important. I don't get a lot of days off." She states in a harsh tone. It's true. She's taken the past three days off to finish unpacking after moving apartments. His smile stays, but the light is gone. She wants to apologize, but instead, she just looks away.

"Because Pearlmutter is retired now, and you were on vacation, that new ME-"He starts, but she cuts him off.

"That new ME has a name. It's Jason." Lanie explains. She knows he ignored the name for a reason. Esposito hadn't been happy when Lanie had arrived at Ryan's wedding accompanied by Jason. They'd fought. Again.

"All right." He complies. She's trying to figure out what he's thinking. Is he angry with her? Or is that almost… admiration? He doesn't seem happy… yet he isn't sad either. "Jason did the autopsy. I just want a second opinion." He hastily pulls a folder from under his arm, and opens it for her to see. "Here's his report. Here, he says that Telling, our vic, was shot from about forty feet away. But, CSU confirms that he was shot and killed in the bedroom of his apartment, which has wall shorter than 40 feet long. I just need you to read over the report, and then maybe take a look around the apartment and see if you can come up with a scenario that would lead to those wounds." Esposito explained, pointing at the picture of the gunshot wounds.

"Sure, Javier." She agrees as she takes the folder from her and starts examining the reports inside. "Do you have a suspect yet?"

"Yeah." He reaches towards the papers to find the sheet on the suspect, but accidentally brushes hers. She hesitates for a moment, liking the way it feels, before quickly pulling her hand away. Their eyes meet for a moment, before both quickly look back down. He clears his throat. "Michael Swenson. He's Telling's old buddy. We think they might have been business partners. Both have spent a nickel up north for possession with the intent to distribute, and we have a witness that puts them together every Tuesday at a diner." She nods thoughtfully, reading over the file.

Michael Swenson is thirty-five years old. He's a giant, about six feet tall and weighing around two hundred and fifty pounds. Grey eyes with wrinkles in the corners are covered with heavy eyebrows. Messy brown hair stands on end, and short stubble covers his chin.

"Where's the apartment?" She asks, glancing around at the possibilities.

"It's that building over there." He points to the tall, tan building that sits across the street, and starts towards it. Javier stops at the curb, and Lanie copies him. The street is surprisingly empty for New York, and contains just a few cars. To Lanie's surprise, one of the cars, a small black one, stops, while angry drivers behind it beep their horns. Esposito steps down off the curb, and starts walking across the street. He turns to wave at the driver, to thank him. But his hand freezes in midair, and she feels him tense. She takes another step, before she too turns to face the driver. She only catches a fleeting glance of him. It's Jackson Swenson.

Suddenly, there's a strong weight on her back. She can feel the two evenly-sized points of pressure on her back.

They're hands. His hands.

He throws her forward, past the front of the car, and into the other lane. Her feet manage to twist around each other, and she slams into the ground, hard. She scrambles to turn and face him.

What is he thinking? Why would he do that? She's going to kill Javier Esposito if it's the last thing she-

But her questions are answered a moment later, when the black sports car accelerates quickly, going thirty miles an hour in just a few feet.

She watches it all.

His eyes meet hers. They're sad, yet they lack fear. It's more of a longing; a look full of regret.

The car slams into him, hitting his thigh first. It knocks him over, and he lands on the hood of the vehicle. His head makes a sickening crack as it smashed into the windshield. The car drives for another twenty feet with him lying on the hood before Javier tumbles off the side opposite of her. As the car continues to speed away, she sees his limp form tumbling into the curb, where he lies, unmoving. She rushes to her feet, ignoring the throbbing in her ankle.

The other cars remain still, the drivers all staring at her in shock. There are several people on the sidewalks as well. She looks directly at a middle aged man walking his dog.

"Call an ambulance!" She screams frantically. She runs to the detective, falling to her knees at his side.

Somehow, he manages to roll over so that he is lying on his back, looking up at her. His left arm is bent underneath his in a sickening, unnatural style, and there is blood steadily dripping from his temple.

"Lanie?" He questions, his eyes trying to find something to focus on. His eyelids are blinking rapidly and his eyes are darting everywhere.

"I'm here, Javi! You're gonna be okay!" She chokes out. "Just stay with me!"

Finally, his eyes focus on her face.

"I miss you." He whispers.

"I miss you too, baby." She finally admits to him, to herself, to the world.

His breathing is shallow and strained, yet he is breathing rapidly, as though he cannot get enough air. His lips are turning a delicate shade of blue.

"Hurts like hell." He groans, trying to sound angry, trying not to show too much vulnerability. But she hears it, anyways.

"I know, just stay with me a little longer!" She begs. "Damn it! Javier Esposito, you stay with me!" She shouts angrily at him when his eyes start losing their focus. Her sharp voice lets him find her face again, and determinedly, he raises his hand up to cup her cheek. Gently, she leans into his touch, and places her hand on top of his.

"Hey, Lanie?"

"Hmm?" It's strangely calm here, more so than she would expect.

"I-"

But then he starts coughing up blood, and it's no longer peaceful, but rather, hell. Deep, strong coughs rack his body and sends crimson liquid to gather in his mouth. He struggles to breathe through it, making a sickening gurgling noise as he struggles for oxygen.

She's sobbing as she places a hand under his head, elevating it and allowing some of the blood to drain out. She's a ME, and right now, she's trying to ignore every logical thought telling her what might be wrong. If she acknowledges what might be, then she's admitting what is, and what has happened. And that means facing the idea that she might lose him.

He's able to breath again, but his lips are turning an even deeper shade of blue, and his skin is pale. Beads of sweat are sprinkled along his hairline.

He struggles for form words, but no sound comes out. His mouth moves, but it is as if he can no longer figure out how to make a noise. He struggles for a few moments, but finally, because he is a fighter, he gets it.

"I love you." It's just a whisper, barely heard over the traffic. But she hears. He's never said that to her before, not even when they were dating. And now, of all times, of all places...

"I love you, too, Javi." She whispers back. A slight smile forms on his blood-covered lips, and his eyes, wide with pain and shock, soften.

The sirens are wailing in the background. Help is here. If he can just stay with her for a little longer...

But it's inevitable.

His eyes glaze over and his hand slips from her cheek.

After all, sometimes, there isn't a happy ending.