Disclaimer: They aren't mine.

A/N:Apologies for the mistakes...I need a beta. Not really a story but a ficlet.

He left her on a Tuesday.

Three have passed since then.

On the first Tuesday she had managed to get a shower and when finished put on another pair of pajama pants and t-shirt. She crawled back into the bed, sheets no longer smelling of fresh laundry, or him but her and her alone.

Her.

Alone.

She needs to get it together. She knows this. She's a rational person and that isn't going to change. She deserves this time to fall apart a little. She has always been the one to say goodbye. She wasn't ready for his.

He only left her three Tuesdays ago.

Five pass and she makes it back to the precinct. The boys stop giving her the sympathetic look by lunchtime; of course it took her giving them more than one glare for them to get it together. She wasn't going to break, she was still Beckett. She's lost people in her life him leaving was not going to break her. ..As far as she would let anyone else see.

She was still Beckett.

Her first murder case was simple and solved by her second day back. She could do this. She could do this without him.

She dives into her work again. Not losing herself into it like she has in the years past. Before he came into her life and pulled her out. Instead she tries so desperately to do so. She wants to drown in the work that comes her way. She puts everything she has into it and when she looks up again twelve have passed.

Twelve Tuesdays and she's lived through them.

Twelve Tuesdays, twelve weeks, eighty-four days, two-thousand-sixteen hours have passed…Not that she's counting. No she doesn't know how many minutes or seconds have ticked by since he left her.

Except she does.

She has it calculated, all of it. She knows how many hours have passed since the last time he touched her, how many days have passed since his lips had been pressed against hers.

She goes back to those moments as often as her memory will allow her.

They flash through her mind in seconds, completely rips her heart out and steals her breath.

Tuesday sixteen she finds herself under the covers again. It's too warm in the apartment to be in a cocoon of blankets but she covers her head again when the sunlight begins to filter into the room through the closed blind.

She can't be blamed for this though.

No, this isn't her fault.

She had been canvasing when it happened. She expected it to at some time. But expecting it and being ready for it were two different things.

She had just opened the driver side door to her cruiser when he walked out of the little café on the corner of Mulberry and Broome. The door opened and he stepped out onto the sidewalk and oh how she tried not to follow. But when his name escaped her mouth her feet were already following him. He didn't turn to her, not right away, no. It took her hand on his shoulder for his body to turn to hers.

As his eyes meet hers she knew she was mistaken.

Brown could never be mistaken for blue.

It hadn't been him.

It would never be him.

He left her on a Tuesday.

Sixteen Tuesdays have passed and there will be a lifetime more.

A lifetime of them left for her to live without him.