He crosses my mind every now and then, and when he does, I still feel that pang of regret and sorrow. To be honest, I have never stopped missing him, nor did I ever stop loving him. Deep in my heart, I know that one day I'll see him again. If I concentrate hard enough, I can still hear his voice. "Hey, Catherine," he'd say in that husky tone of his. He'd have those sleepy eyes on me as he spoke. He certainly wasn't a morning person, that's for sure. I still remember how he used to come dragging his ass into work every morning, grumbling respones like a zombie. But then again, if he hadn't been like that, then he wouldn't be Keppler.
It wasn't right of me to feel sorry for myself as he'd passed, but I did. When someone dies, we do not pity them or feel bad for them per-say. We feel sorry for ourselves, for having to move on without them. Too many times have I had to move on, alone, without someone that I cared deeply about. Life is a fragile thing and it can be taken away so easily. I should have told him how I felt. That much, I know.
Sara had thought so, too. One late night a few weeks after after his funeral, she'd come wandering into my office with paperwork. I don't remember how we'd gotten on the subject, but she asked me if I regreted not asking him out to dinner or something along those lines. My response? I'd merely played dumb and asked what she was talking about. Apparently she wasn't in a mood to let things go, so she came around to my desk. "You aren't a very good liar," she'd joked as she wrapped her arm around my shoulder. I'd put my head on her shoulder and together, we were swept into a silence that saddened us, but yet, it lifted spirits. "Sometimes, all you need is a hug," Warrick used to say to me. He was right, I think. Sara and I had ended up going out for a drink that night and for the first time in a while, I'd felt good again.
Right now was one of those moments that I just couldn't help but think of what could have been...
Perhaps, it was just not meant to be. Keppler and I were just two intirely different people in our own ways. He was a grieving fiancee and I was the woman who worked the graveyard shift. Don't they always say how opposites attract, though? Life can be so confusing, sometimes.
I heard a knock at my office door, and it pulled me from my thoughts. I picked my head up just in time to see Nicky walk in. "Hey," he said, smiling. I was exhausted and upset, but a small smile found my lips none-the-less. "Hey. What's up?" He closed the door behind him. "Wanna take a ride with me? I gotta find a Mr... Hosenburg, and bring him in for questioning." I looked at him for a moment. Oddly enough, I didn't want to leave but then again, I was falling asleep at my computer anyhow. I suppose going out for a few couldn't hurt. I shrugged and turned to grab my jacket as I spoke. "Yeah, sure." He nodded and turned away. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw him stick his thumb into his pocket like the good old Texas boy he was. "Alright. Meet you outside, I gotta make a call." I glanced over at the door as it shut behind him. The were so many people out in the hallway going about their jobs. "Ugh," I sighed a heavy breath and shook my head. "I hate people."
As I pulled my jacket on, my eyes found a picture-frame at the end of my desk, on the far right. In the picture, Keppler and I were standing, smiling, and living for the moment. His arm was around me and a smile was spread wide across his handsome face. I smirked to myself as I got up and joined Nicky in the hallway to leave. A feeling that someone was watching over me warmed me somewhere deep inside as I left the building with my friend.