A/N: Don't hate me. Also, fun fact, the song chosen is actually the song I want at my funeral. Happy Monday.
"So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."
-F Scott Fitzgerald, "The Great Gatsby"
But please remember me, my misery In circles round the well and where it spells
And how it lost me all I wanted
Those dogs that love the rain and chasing trains
The colored birds above there running
On the wall behind St. Peter
So bright on cinder gray in spray paint
'Who the hell can see forever?'
(The Trapeze Swinger – Iron & Wine)
"Kathy's pregnant"
The words fall deaf on her ears but she nods, dares not let her emotions betray her. His eyes bore holes into her, almost willing her to look at him, understand all that he cannot say right now. It's something she cannot give to him right now because she knows the moment she does, the dam will break and everything she's kept thinly veiled will stain them in ways she can't risk now, not anymore.
Because she had known what the risk was, the detective in her had spent years assessing the liability involved in regards to her feelings and she had chosen to conceal them, until she no longer could. They had found themselves in hell, dragged back, stronger in the parts that were once broken.
Or so she had thought.
OoO
She walks away, her arm brushes past him and he aches to grab her, pull her back, hold her to him and breathe her in. He can't. Not here, not now because the wires are frayed, crackling tension between them, and he doesn't know how he's supposed to fix them this time.
One night, a mistake he made, and now he stands to lose everything again. Because Kathy leaving had felt like an irreparable break but she had put him back together, she had fused the bones with the imprints of her fingers…and everything he had never known he had needed, was right there in his grasp.
Slipping through his fingers.
OoO
The knock is anticipated, and she doesn't need to check the peephole to know that it's him. Their eyes meet between the opening and the door jamb, "Hey"
"Hey"
Slowly it swings open, and his feet have known the steps he takes inside as she walks into the kitchen and opens the fridge, pulling out a beer and turning to him. Their bodies are three feet apart, and the distance maims her, swallowing the lump in her throat as she hands him the bottle, "Thanks" he whispers, his fingers running softly against her knuckles.
Hot, searing, pleasure and pain and she pulls away softly, crossing her arms against her chest, "How's Kathy"
Words pointed like weapons because, there's a part of her that aches for him to suffer like she is. For the dull throb to fill his bones, the pain to permeate through his blood stream like it's become a part of him…as it has her.
The bottle hits the counter hard, "So that's how we're going to do this?" he asks, his voice thick from his throat.
She walks past him, and then turns to shoot him a look, eyebrow arched, "What else am I going to say, 'Hey El, when exactly did you find time to knock up your wife when you've spent almost every night in my apartment, that what you want me to ask, huh?" she asks, getting closer to him, shaking with emotion, her finger pointed and pushing into his chest, "I told you, I fucking told you"
The first tear falls from her eye, making a track mark down her cheek and when his fingers come to swipe it away, her hand slaps his wrist down, "Don't touch me El, not now, not anymore"
OoO
"I didn't" he starts.
Didn't think, didn't fucking think, because all he knew was that he was hurting and he found himself seeking out somewhere safe, where the feelings didn't make him feel like he was crawling out of his skin. Somewhere she wasn't looking at him with those eyes that could see the parts of himself that he ached to keep dark. Because Kathy was safe, they had known each other since they were kids…and somewhere along the way, even when they hated each other, there weren't any expectations, he didn't have to crack open his ribs and show her his soul.
Not the way he did with her, where it was so real that it hurt and he felt exposed in ways that taking off your clothes couldn't quite grasp.
"I'm sorry"
OoO
The words are worse than when a blade slices you open and she wishes she could feel the rush of blood slide down her skin because, at least then, it would explain the physical pain that explodes in her gut.
A caustic laugh escapes her lips and it's an outer body experience, like she's watching herself square against him, "For what Elliot, go back to your wife" she spits at him.
There's a part of her that is more upset with herself than at him because she was the only who broke her own rules, broke her own heart by trusting her feelings. Being with him, had lowered her walls, and for the first time, in as long as she could remember…she had let the voices in her head quiet, let her guard all the way down, trusted the happiness that was always out of reach.
His hand grips her elbow and brings her back down to earth, "I don't want to go back to my wife"
OoO
It's the most honest and the most selfish he's probably ever been because he should take the burden of his sin, go back to Kathy and make it right. But that was never right, and he's as sure of it now standing here than he's ever been before.
"I don't love my wife" he tells her, stepping closer, pulling her to him, "I haven't loved her in a long time"
He crashes his lips against hers, and for a moment she melds into him, slipping her hands to his chest, their lips tangling and suckling, tongues tangling, moans dying against throats until she stops abruptly, pushes against his chest, "DON'T DON'T DON'T" she yells, "ELLIOT"
OoO
"Elliot, Elliot"
His eyes snap open, his heart pounding against his chest, the cribs dark, and her hand his on his chest, "You okay?" she whispers, "I heard you, thrashing around" she finshed, concerned, eyes wide and shimmering.
Her fingers still linger on his chest, and he grabs her wrist softly, needing to feel her, "I had a nightmare" he tells her, afraid to talk about how real it felt, gutting, like someone had pushed him off a building, over and over, yet he never truly hit the floor.
The hand that isn't on his chest comes to his face, "This case is getting to both of us" she tells him.
All he does is nod, staring at her, holding her close enough to him that he can feel her, remind himself that he didn't ruin his life, that they're still here…a world full of promises in front of them.
"You okay?" she asks as he half sits up, slipping his hand around her neck and pulling her close, stealing a soft kiss, just a slow suckle of lips, momentary before she's pulling away.
"El" she says, but she's smiling softly, "Not"
"Not at work, I know" he says with a smirk, "I just needed" is all he finishes with because he can't explain the ways he needed to tether to her, to feel the way they are bound to each other.
"Me too" she admits, "Now get up, Munch ordered Chinese and you know he'll eat all the good stuff if we don't get down there"
Grabbing her hand, he lets her pull him up, and holds her hand until they go through the doorway, and he watches her walk, sensible detective shoes clicking along the cold ground, slacks hugged against her sinewy curves. This is his future, this is his life and he swears to the God he forgot he believed in, that he will never squander this gift.
A/N2: Did I scare you there? You just had to make things right.