[part 1]

That night when he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she'd left, that she'd emptied the apartment he'd used to call home, that she'd taken her adorable dimples that settled in the crook of her cheek and her warm hazel hues right along with her and onto that blasted plane he drank himself into somewhat of an oblivion. He returned to his huddle of friends with their forlorn expressions and nearly empty bottles of booze, ducking his head so maybe, just maybe they wouldn't see the tears welling at the corners of his eyes or the way his jaw was clenched in irritation because if he would've had just two minutes- two fucking minutes in front of her to plead his case and maybe flash the box with the diamond that had been burning a hole in his back pocket for the last few days she would still be here. She would still be here with her tiny fingers trailing patterns up and down his thigh, out of the sight of their colleagues as his heartbeat quickened in anticipation and tossing back a few pulls of his beer but he wouldn't have minded. Because on one of those tiny little fingers there would've been his mother's diamond- a promise to her that he would love and cherish every single part of what made her who she was for the rest of their lives.

He would love the way she mumbled his name in frustration whenever he shifted out of her arms in the middle of the night, trying to make at least a few inches of space between the both of them in case he flailed and screamed and couldn't separate reality from the dark depths of his memories fast enough. In the end her mumbles always got to him and so instead he stayed awake, running his fingers through the waves of her hair while committing every last detail of her face to memory, as if he would ever be able to forget the way her lips always seemed to curl up on the right side in an unconscious grin or maybe even a hint of a smirk, or the array of colors he could spot in her pupils whenever her eyes flickered open in an early morning daze or even when she was glaring daggers when her fiery temper spiked. Even then he would have to smile because she was just as beautiful to him when she was enraged.

He would love the way her legs felt around his bare torso when they were lost in the feeling of each other, the way she tightened her hold and tangled her fingers in his hair as if she needed him closer, still. Or the way her lips felt trailing up and down his neck, and then his collarbone, and then down his stomach and if there was a heaven he was pretty damn sure this is what his would be- the feeling of her all over his bare skin, the feeling of her hot breaths in the crook of his neck, the way it felt to be inside of her, the sound of her screaming his name at her peak and sending him barreling over the edge right along with her.

He would love the way her go-to dinner was a microwaveable pizza and a box of macaroni and cheese with a cold one from the refrigerator, no matter how many times he offered to cook. He would continue to love the fact that she always left him half of the box of each and always had an extra few bottles in the fridge stashed away just for him, leaving him plenty of room to cuddle up right next to her on the couch to watch a rerun of a baseball game, or a football game, or if nothing else was on some design show on HGTV and he would always love the little hints she dropped about wanting a porch that wrapped around her entire house or a swing overlooking a lake in the backyard to hold her babies on and he would continue to love the way it felt to take her in his arms after he finished his meal and whisper in her ear that someday, somehow, he would give it all to her. And then he would fall even more in love with her grin and the slight pink tinge in her cheeks because maybe, just maybe, she would actually let him.

But he was here and she was not and there wasn't anything left of her in Chicago to love anymore and that thought alone made him snatch the last of Will's drink from in front of him and though his brother's brow furrowed and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat he didn't utter a word and for that Jay was thankful. He noticed then the rest of the team had cleared out and maybe that was a blessing because he had a feeling he was about to make an embarrassing ass of himself and frankly he didn't want to look any more pathetic in their eyes than he already did. Sitting here with a ring and his hope and his firm belief that she wouldn't really board that flight without looking him the eye but as the clock winded it's way past midnight a sick feeling had settled in his gut because he finally had to face the fact that she had. That he wasn't worth a goodbye or an explanation or hell, even so much as an answered phone call. He would have settled for hearing her voice on the other end, or maybe just her erratic breathing and then he would've swallowed every last one of his selfish reasons for keeping her here, right here in this city with him, and given her the last few words of comfort he knew she needed because he'd spent months learning the ins and the outs of her head and how her mind always tended to want to do the best for other people instead of for herself. Go. You're making the right decision. I am proud of you.

But no- he hadn't even been worth that.

Flinging a few bills out of his pocket to cover the tab, he began to gather himself enough to make it completely off of the stool and out the front door of the joint before he heard his brother's pounding of footsteps behind him and then a muttered 'are you okay?' rattling in his ear drums, and all he could manage was a feeble shake of his head as he finally admitted it. As he finally admitted that her leaving had crushed him, had left him afraid to walk into the bullpen and find her empty desk and her empty rolling chair that she'd stolen from him a couple months back, claiming his was 'more comfortable' and 'looked better' on her side of the room and of course he'd relented and let her keep it because that sexy, teasing glint in her eyes had made him weak in the knees and he never really did like to argue with her. He was afraid to use his spare key to her place and find it barren and empty and he was afraid that if he stayed long enough and breathed in deep enough traces of her scent would still reach his nostrils and send him straight over the edge into despair, and heartbreak, and irritation. Because even though they'd always told each other they'd have each other's backs, she hadn't given him the chance. She hadn't given him the chance to hear her out and to try and understand her angle and her thought process and why in the hell she felt she needed to pack up her things and move to New York and not even give him a goodbye.

He allowed Will to lead him to his car and guide him into the passenger seat because at this point the world was spinning and his vision was foggy and in all honesty he wanted to curl up and sob but he wouldn't because he was trained as a soldier and trained to lock it up tight and it was so firmly ingrained in his thought process he had a hard time reminding himself feeling what he felt was acceptable, understandable even. And maybe when he was sure he was alone he'd let a few tears fall and let his right hand curl up into a fist and slam into something hard to welcome the sudden bursts of pain because the aching of his hand would be better than this dull ache settling in his heart and Will seemed to understand as much because he brought him back to his old apartment- the one he'd moved out of when he'd moved in with Nina- and flipped on all the lights and mumbled something about 'extra blankets in the hall closet' before he had disappeared down the hallway and then Jay heard a door slam and he thought maybe he should be considerate and ask what the hell they were doing here and not at Will's girlfriend's place but thought better of it because his head hurt and he wasn't sure he could form the right strain of words into a sentence.

So he slipped out of his work boots and unhooked his gun from his belt loops and placed it safely well out of reach until morning, when the sun would come up and the world would be a little less hazy and his days without her pointed gazes or raised eyebrows from across the bullpen would have completely disappeared.

He settled down on the couch then, yanking a blanket down off the armrest to pull over his shoulders, his fingers grasping the velvet box in his back pocket before he let his eyes drift all the way closed and he dared one last look at it, the diamond glinting if he tilted it just right and he had to smile through the single tear that dripped down his cheek because it would've looked beautiful sliding onto her finger but now he couldn't help but be angry at her for leaving him behind with all of the love he had left in his heart to give her and all the words he didn't get a chance to say.