Hmm, long time no see, I know. I'm not even going to promise to do better because the moment I do it, Murphy's Law will strike as it always does. My writing life in a nutshell. ;-) But I have been working on the next part of Bitter Harvest, so maybe there's light at the end of the tunnel? *bats eyes at the universe*

Anyhoo, this is a little piece written for the Numb3rsWriteOff challenge on LJ. Hope you'll enjoy it.

Ripping Off a Band-Aid

by Jules

She's losing him.

Just a little while ago, that thought was uncomfortable and annoying. She always pushed it away, even when she was reminded of the possibility on a daily basis. In law enforcement, you simply don't dwell on the if's and when's, you rise each day and promise yourself that you get home safe and sound when the job is done.

Kim Hall isn't a fearful woman, she never would've made it far in her profession if she were. And her relationship with Don Eppes isn't her first serious commitment either. It was always complicated, with him being her boss, but they've both grown into it, jumping hurdles and dodging bullets with the hope that the good they had was going to be good enough in the end.

Well, she did, in any case.

Kim waits by the door until the doctor leaves the examination room before she steps in, smiling at the sight of the figure on the bed. Don isn't aware of her yet, his right arm crossed over his forehead to shield his eyes from the glaring overhead light. There's no blood as far as she can see, so that's probably a good sign. His left arm is curled loosely over his ribs and she can see the dark bruises forming there.

Then she sees the chair in the corner, and the plastic evidence tub with his clothes on it and she can't help herself, she has to move over there. His tactical vest lies on top of everything else and she reaches in and unfolds the material, tracing the gauge in the ceramic plate and the frayed edges of the kevlar material covering it.

She's losing him, and maybe now is the right time to let that feeling sink in. Now, as she's standing here with the proof that she didn't lose him tonight, that the bullet aimed to kill him was deflected. No, she didn't lose him tonight, but she still knows she is losing him, much too soon and it hurts. It hurts so much because there's no vest to prevent that kind of damage.

"Hey."

She swivels around at the sound of his voice and smiles. "Hey yourself."

Don squints at her from under his arm and his other hand strays away from his chest to reach out to her. It's just one step to take it in her own, but it feels like a too long stretch of miles because it brings her closer to the inevitable.

She splays her fingers through his and perches on the edge of the mattress. "Didn't think of calling me, huh?"

Don sighs. It's a too familiar sound right now and for a moment, Kim closes her eyes. His fingers tighten around hers.

"Come on," he whispers roughly, "it's nothing. I took a hit in the vest, that's all."

"Yeah?" She points to the bruise at his temple and he shrugs one shoulder and instantly freezes at the renewed pain in his chest.

"Hit my head on the way down," he says with a wince and relaxes back into the cushion.

"Yeah," she says. "It's nothing."

That's Don Eppes for you. He'd run out the door in the morning with his head under his arm if he could. All those bumps and bruises, scratches and cuts are always nothing. You're not invincible, Don.

The doctor steps back into the exam room with a set of X-rays in her hand. "Good news," she says.

They watch her as she clips the pictures onto the light box. "Two cracked ribs and a hell of a shiner. No concussion."

She eyes Don over the rims of her glasses. "Looks like you have a hard head, Agent Eppes."

Kim snorts at that. "Don't I know it," she mutters and barely dodges Don's swiping hand to her thigh. But he smiles and she can't help smiling back. God, she will miss this.

"I'll write you a script for painkillers," the doctor continues. "And a week of light duty wouldn't hurt either."

"Yeah," he grinds out and slowly pushes himself up. "The paperwork will probably take just that long."

The doctor leaves again and Don sits up on the side of the bed. Kim reaches into her bag and hands him the clothes she brought. Don raises his eyebrow in a question.

"So, how did you find out?" he asks.

She turns to the window and braces her shoulders. No, she's not going to tell him how she tried the office and his cell and how, after far too many calls for her liking, she finally found out that he went to the bust without even telling her and landed himself in the hospital. Her anger, her frustration won't matter.

She's losing him and it's probably the best to lay it all right out. Maybe lessens the pain, like ripping off a band-aid.

"Your dad called."

"Yeah? What did he want?"

Turn back time, maybe? Rage at the world? No, she's met Alan and he's a wonderful person, much like Margaret. They won't rage, they take life as it comes, even when it crashes in right over their heads.

"Kim?"

Don's behind her now, his shirt still half unbuttoned and she feels bad for not telling him. She feels even worse for knowing already what he will soon find out.

"Don, you need to talk to him yourself, okay?" she finally says and hands him her cell phone.

He doesn't need it to be spelled out to know something is wrong. Their eyes meet and right this small moment, their last uninhibited moment together maybe, she wants to tell him how much she loves him. What he means to her and how her life has become better thanks to him.

But she doesn't. Instead, she steps forward and kisses him lightly on the lips. "He's waiting for your call. I'll be out in the car."

And she leaves and walks out of this room and the building alone, a feeling she has to learn to get used to again.

She's losing him.

He'll be on a plane back home very soon. And it's okay, because the moment Alan told her that Margaret was diagnosed with cancer, she knew that Don needed to be home.

But whatever the outcome will be, she's losing him. She doesn't even understand why she knows it with such certainty, but she does. He'll fly home and he'll never be back.

And the toughest thing for her to accept is that he won't even say goodbye.

The End

This fic was written for the Angst vs Schmoop Challenge at Numb3rsWriteOff over on LiveJournal. After you've read the fic, please rate it by voting in the poll located at http: / www. livejournal . com / poll / ?id=1635696. (Your vote will be anonymous.) Rate the fic on a scale of 1 - 10 (10 being the best) using the following criteria: how well the fic fit the prompt, how angsty [or schmoopy] the fic was, and how well you enjoyed the fic. When you're done, please check out the other challenge fic at Numb3rsWriteOff. Thank you!