Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my inspiration.
AN: This doesn't really fit in with current canon anymore. I wrote this after seeing the previews for 2x13 "Nothing To Fear." Thanks to Chris for looking over it.
maybe I'm not up to being a victim of love..
He finds her sitting out on the patio staring at a glass of red wine on the table.
Sighing, he leans into the frame of the doorway, not sure if he should even be here. She dropped a hell of a bomb on him today; he's still not sure what he thinks of it – not that what he thinks matters right now anyway. Not if she ends it before either of them has a chance to wrap their heads around it.
If this had been ten years ago and things had stood the way they stood between them right now, he wouldn't have given it as much thought as he is now. But now. Now is another story. Now they are in their forties and the fact of the matter is… if not now, when?
"If I go tomorrow - It doesn't matter if I drink that glass, if I drink the whole damn bottle."
The sound of her voice startles him, but he chooses to remain quiet. Maybe he's a coward, but the truth is he just doesn't know what to say. He has no herbs, no magic words for this.
He might be a little bit in love with her. Or maybe he's just in love with the idea of her, but for the first time in a long time, he had actually started thinking that maybe a relationship wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. She was his friend first, lover second and for whatever reason the pieces and emotions had hit him in the right spots to make him wonder… what if? Would it really be the end of the world?
Then there was Sheldon, and that hurt. It hurt a lot more than he thought it could for such a short non-relationship relationship. He knows he had no place to judge; he'd done much of the same thing to Meg.
And now, now she's pregnant and too far along for it to be anyone's but his. Theirs. And she has an appointment in the morning.
The waves crash on the shoreline in front of him, the sky painted red as the sun settles in for the night.
"Then why haven't you?" The words sound like they're coming from someone else entirely even though he knows they came from his own lips.
He comes up behind her and places his hands on her shoulders, gently squeezing them. She kind of laughs, but the sound falls flat. Sighing, she shakes her head.
"I don't know, Pete. I don't know."