Here is the next installment in the Dov/Megan portion of this Rookie Blue galaxy. Mainly written for one FireEthereal, who leaves the BEST REVIEWS EVER. No joke, I look forward to you in particular. Heheh. Anyways, I know you're all itching to find out exactly what happened to Megan when she vanished from Dov's house. Well, you might find out this fic. Probably. As of right now, there are other things at hand... ;)
Getting the Girl
Dov lifted his aching legs up the stairs in front of his house, less than thrilled to finally be home. He'd been back at work for two weeks now. After the Dawn Fletcher, he knew he needed to be back there, not standing idly by as he was. He pushed open the front door and tossed his bag on the floor.
Looking around, he assessed the miserable condition of his abode. Blinds shut, dirty dishes, a spare shirt lying crumpled on the ground near the couch. Miserable.
His house was back to what it had been like before. A house. That was it. Somewhere you slept at night, and then left in the morning. No puppy, no Megan, not a home.
The ringing of a phone jarred Dov enough to make him drop his keys.
"Damnit." He flipped open his phone. "Hello?"
"Hey man, are you coming to the Penny tonight?" Chris asked over the loud cheering and music at the bar.
"No." He breathed. "I've got something I gotta do."
"You gonna go talk to her?" His friend asked, stepping outside the Penny.
"I'm gonna try, that's for sure. I just want her to come back!" He rubbed his hand over his face and tousled his hair.
"She wouldn't even open her door for me. Be patient with her, I think she's just scared. Good luck." He offered, a hopeless tinge in his voice.
"Thanks, brother." Dov hung up. He almost turned and called for Aila, before he remembered that the little dog was back with his owner now. Dov hadn't felt this low and unhappy since his parents got a divorce during his senior year in high school, an event that shook him to his core. He turned on his heel and headed back out, knowing there was nothing he needed at his so called home.
Back in his car, he circled the block three times before finally parking and jogging up to her apartment.
"Megan? It's me. It's Dov, I mean. Can we talk?" He called through the door, its paint peeling and the large golden 4 had lost it's bottom screw. 'I need to get her out of this hell hole.' He reminded himself.
"No." She answered, sounding much the same as she did the day she packed her things and left. Scared.
"Please?" He wasn't above begging her.
"No, Dov!" Her voice cracked.
"Fine." He ran his hand through his hair and crossed his arms defiantly. "Then I'm going to sit in the hallway until you change your mind." He turned his back to the door and slid down to the floor.
"Go home, Dov." She hurled her words at him.
"Don't have a home." He answered plainly.
"What?" She asked in disbelief.
"It's not a home without my girlfriend." She didn't answer this time, but an older man at the end of the hall opened the door.
"Can you shut up?" He snapped.
"Come on, man. I'm trying to win my girl back here, give a guy a break." Dov threw his hands up at the ceiling.
"Hurry it up; I'm trying to watch Dancing with the Stars in here. Do the words 'finale week' mean anything to you?" The man slammed the door shut.
"Then turn up the volume, old man!" Dov called after him. He fell onto his back as Megan swung open the door. "Oh, hello there." He waved at her, upside down.
"Get up." She snapped. "Don't disturb my neighbours, they can have me evicted."
"Are you going to talk to me?" He asked, not moving.
"Fine, just make it quick." She stepped back and he lifted himself off the ground and walked into her apartment.
She looked better than she had, her bruises had faded. They were now a light greenish yellow, compared to the angry red and purple they'd been for a while after she reappeared at his house. The house was bare, pictures had been taken down. He did a quick, subtle glance around and noticed something that puzzled him. She'd taken down all the mirrors.
"How have you been?" He leaned against the counter across from her.
"I'm fine." She answered shortly. He rose from his position and cross the kitchen to stand in front of her.
"Look, I'm gonna skip the small talk. I'm too tired and miserable to but on a show. I miss you. I want you to come back." He furrowed his brow and spoke from the heart. "I need you to come back." Desperation plagued his expression.
"Dov. I just, I can't right now." She pressed her lips together and averted her eyes, doing her best to keep her emotions in check.
He reached forward to brush her hair out of her face, but she gasped and flinched, which in itself was traumatizing for Dov.
"Megan." He whispered. "Did you think I was going to hit you?" She didn't answer, but her knees began to buckle and tears began to fall. "Megan, did you?"
"I don't know." She finally answered almost inaudibly. He sighed, upset.
"Look at me." He begged her. After a few seconds, she lifted her gaze to reveal brilliant turquoise jewels. Her eyes always a few shades brighter when she'd been crying. "I will never, never in a million years even think about laying a hand on you. Never. And God help me if I ever find who did." His voice was a little raspy, reflecting his exasperation. Again, she looked away but found the courage to meet his gaze once more. The look of resignation in her eyes smashed Dov's heart into pieces.
"Sorry." She whispered, squeezing her eyes shut trying to suppress more tears.
"No, no!" He shook his head. "Don't be sorry, you have no reason to be sorry. I'm the one who's sorry." He wanted to hold her, and make everything okay. "I'm so sorry. I never should have pressed the subject. I just wanted to find who hurt you." Another tear fell and a choked sob escaped her cut lips.
"I know." She replied sadly.
"Please, just come home to me. Please. I will never ask you again, I will never bring up the subject or anything even remotely related, okay? Please. I just want you to come home." He begged. "Please." He opened his arms, willing her to walk to him, to safety. They stood in silence for what felt like hours before she finally nodded and collapsed into his capable arms.
She sobbed into his shoulder, begging him for forgiveness which he didn't have to give. He rubbed her back and kissed her head, swaying gently in place as he tried to soothe her shaking body.
He hated seeing her upset. It was nearly every day she'd cry, and it ripped him to shreds because he couldn't fix her. He couldn't stand not being able to fix her. He led her into the living room and lay down on the couch with her, cradling her small form.
Eventually, she did stop crying. She remained curled up on top of him, her head resting on his shoulder, her index finger tracing random patterns on his chest; pausing momentarily to adjust the tiny shorts she so often wore. She was clearly conflicted.
"You okay, Megan?" He slowly brought his hand up to brush the hair out of her eyes.
"Yep." She whispered.
"Would you tell me if you weren't?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. She didn't answer. "Please tell me what's wrong." He said quietly. She sat up and wiped her eyes.
"Let's just, go home." She got up off the couch and began gathering her things. He sighed and pushed his sleeves up to his elbows. He wished that she would just tell him the truth.
"Home it is." However, he was happy to have her back.
A few minutes later, the two stood outside her apartment door as she locked it and turned to him.
"I missed you too." She placed a palm on his chest and ran it up to his neck, rubbing her thumb over his cheek. "A lot." He gingerly pulled her into him and they stood content in this embrace for a while. When he finally did release her, she threaded her fingers around his and led him down the stairs.
"It's about bloody time!" The elderly man yelled after them. Dov turned as they walked out the front door and gave the man a cheesy smile and a thumbs up.
"So," he began as they climbed the front steps of his house, "it's kinda late. Are you hungry?"
She shook her head. "Not much of an appetite lately." She admitted reluctantly.
"Alright, no problem. No problem at all. Do you want to just go to bed?" He set her bag down on the table inside the door and then turned to face her.
"Sure, why not?" She smiled meekly and slipped off her shoes. She hadn't bothered to change out of her shorts and sweater, so she was basically set.
Smoothly, Dov moved towards her and slid his arms around her waist, touching his forehead to hers. She closed her eyes and soaked in the sense of comfort that she got from him.
"Please don't leave again." He asked her, quietly. "I can't sleep without you."
"Dov." She looked up at him.
"I suck at games. So I figured, what the hell. Throw all my cards on the table." He smiled.
"I'll stay as long as I'm welcome." She smiled, placing a soft hand on the back of his neck.
"So, forever?" He smiled and raised an eyebrow playfully before lifting her off the ground and carrying her to the bedroom.
They'd known each other for a while now, been officially 'together' for the majority of that time, but they'd still not taken that next step. They'd slept together, sure. But they still hadn't slept together. And, much to his surprise, Dov was fine with that. He was completely happy just being next to her, feeling her hot breath on his skin as she slept.
And as he set her down on the bed that night, he realized he'd be content with that for as long as she wanted. Nothing was going to get in the way of their relationship, especially not his typically male tendencies. As they lay in bed, Megan resting her head on his chest, they didn't need to speak. They'd fallen back into their routines, and it felt like home. It felt like it was meant to be.
He brushed a lock of her long, dark hair over her bare shoulders. He'd forgotten how much he loved her hair; how it contrasted with her fair skin and curled so beautifully around her shoulders, and how when they got caught in the rain it clung to her body in such a way that it looked like she'd just stepped out of a shoot for Italian Vogue.
"How are you?" She asked, suddenly.
"Good. Great. I have you, I'm back at work, and I'm a month and a half sober. I'm happy." He answered, satisfied with the turn of events.
"That's wonderful, Dov." He could feel her smiling against his skin. He traced his thumb over the small city of freckles situated on the back of her left shoulder, and smiled as he thought about where they might have come from.
Her breathing evened out and he took this long awaited opportunity to just be there, in the moment. No thinking, just feeling and being happy for the first time since she left. He kissed her on the forehead and saw a small smile creep up her lips.
"Night, babe." He whispered, before finally falling asleep.
A noise jarred him awake. He checked the clock: 3:00 AM.
Rolling onto his side, he immediately noticed that Megan was gone. Sitting up, he realized the bathroom light was on. Careful as to not scare her, he got out of bed and walked towards the source of the light. Water was running and he could hear her laboured breaths before he even made it to the doorway. She jumped when she saw him and pressed her palm to her chest.
He walked in behind her and slid his hands onto her stomach, strategizing. Her red rimmed eyes and pink nose told him she was upset, but why was a whole different story.
"What's wrong, hon?" He asked her through the mirror.
"Nothing." She choked out, wiping her eyes before lifting them to meet his gaze.
"Please tell me." He whispered in her ear. She began to shake her head, but seemed to think better of it.
"My mom, is very sick." Her voice cracked and she crumbled into a fit of suppressed sobs. He walked her back into the bedroom and turned on the bedside lamp.
"What's going on, Megan?" He asked, sitting them both on the bed and facing her.
"Mom, was" she spoke through hiccups "diagnosed with cancer when I was seventeen." She gripped his hand as if it was a life jacket and she was floating through an endless sea of isolation. "Advanced, stage four lung cancer." His eyes softened and he rubbed her knee with the pad of his thumb. "She was okay, but she went into palliative care a few years ago. She just had to be moved out here a few weeks ago, and they found another tumour in her throat." She brought her hands to her face and leaned forward into Dov's chest, sobbing.
He rubbed her back and whispered soothing words to her until she had collected herself enough to continue.
"She's dying. It's a matter of time. Probably a week or so." Her breathing became soft and even.
"I'm so sorry." Was all he could manage.
"And she knows that it's happening. Her mind is all there, she knows that she's going to die." She whimpered, collapsing back into the safe haven of Dov's arms.
He lay her back down in bed and brought her a cup of hot chocolate, with a dash of cinnamon and whipped cream, the way she liked it.
"You need to go to sleep." She said after thanking him for the drink.
"I can sleep anytime. You need someone to talk to." He said, propping himself up next to her on the bed.
"Talk about what?" She asked, taking a sip out of the green mug clasped in her hands.
"Anything. Tell me about Megan." He grinned.
For the first time today, her shoulders sank back and she smiled a true smile.
"You wanna know about me?" She raised an eyebrow.
"Tell me everything." He poked her in the side playfully.
"I don't know where to start." She laughed, sniffing.
"Tell me what it was like growing up with Chris. Or tell me about some family vacation you took." He toyed with the hem of her shorts.
"How about why I started drinking?" She asked quietly.
"Do you want to tell me? You don't have to if – " She cut him off.
"I want to. I trust you." She whispered.
"Alright, I'm all ears." He smiled kindly at her.
"Buckle your seatbelts, ladies and gentlemen. This is going to be one hell of a ride." She sighed.