Disclaimer: I own nobody from the movie S.W.A.T nor do I own any of the storyline I may use as background information. I do, however, own all original characters you see within this fic.
Author's Note: Just a warning to the die hard Jim/Chris fans they may not end up together in this story as after watching the commentary I have learned a few things about the relationship but I haven't finalized anything yet. Also leave me feedback whether you like this or not because that's the only way for me to continue it.
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Sand flew in every direction as he jogged by the waters edge leaving a trail of dug in foot prints where he went. Though he couldn't see anything but the reflection of the moon on the water's breaking surface he knew where he was going. He'd traveled that path so many times before that it didn't matter that he couldn't see, wasn't paying attention.
His mind wandered to the funeral he'd attended just weeks ago. One he'd debated about going to for days but in the end he'd gone. He always had known that he would because somewhere it didn't matter to him that he'd been betrayed by the man they'd laid to rest. In some part of his brain it didn't even matter that he'd killed several people just to show Fuller how much smarter than him he was. Because somewhere he still saw him as his best friend. And to that part of his brain it would always be that way even with the death of one.
The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the beach before washing away again lulled him into a deep train of thought. Thoughts that hadn't, in the months of analyzing he'd done, once crossed his mind. Even his work related section that kept him devoted to the job at all costs.
He wiped the sweat that threatened to drip down his forehead and into his eyes with the back of his hand trying to remember how many miles he'd already ran when his mind threatened to wander to why he got angry when his team talked of Bryan as though he were a waste of a human being. When he began to wonder why he still saw himself and Bryan as friends though they'd severed ties many months before. Why should he call him a friend, had this so called "friend" he'd had since high school, his partner in the police force and SWAT for five years, best man at his almost wedding not betrayed him? Had he not tried to kill him? Didn't he prove that what is mandatory in all long lasting good friendships hadn't been there by not trusting him and then breaking that trust with Alex Montel? And he found himself on the verge of being pissed and quoting this friend in his head. A real partner wouldn't have to ask that.
But the words hadn't remained a simple thought in his head. He'd spoken them outloud in a lower tone of voice unwilling to break the serene quiet all around him. He could feel small amounts of anger beginning to build up in his body. Anger that would start small and evolve into a thick boiling river that would course through his body and drive him harder in this routine he'd started at the beach. Before he knew it he'd be working out relentlessly at the old light house that was to be his destination on this night but for a different purpose. He'd work himself well past exhaustion to the point where he'd get puking sick yet still he'd go on jogging home where he'd hit the punching back in the corner until he couldn't move and collapse on his bed.
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The beach was uncharacteristically still. No wind and the waves, usually roaring with power, seem to have receded to nothing more than tiny breaks on the surface hardly visible in the distance. It was as if the wind and water knew something that she didn't. It reminded her of the calm before the storm yet the weather forecast for the weekend was anything but storm worthy and the week had already proven to be beautiful.
She kicked at a random clump of sand before finally sitting upon the pill box that had been half embedded in sand sitting just beyond the old light house that housed many so many memories she hardly thought she'd ever experienced anything worth remembering anywhere else.
The small smile that had graced her features vanished almost as quickly as it had come as she turned from the light house and running a hand over the rough concrete remembering all the times she'd spent thinking and sitting on it. She almost found it funny that looking at the light house made her happy yet here just a few short feet away she remember everything that had ever caused her a moments worry or grief. She dropped her shoes in the sand as she sat on the surface tucking her knees under her chin and watching the water.
For the first time since she'd heard of her brother's death she actually allowed herself to think of what had happened. She found herself grieving her loss but cursing how stupid he had been and acted. And no matter how hard she'd tried to hate the man who had caused him to no longer be there when she needed him she couldn't do it. For she knew, maybe not on the surface of her thinking but somewhere much more important, that he had done it for the greater good of all. No matter how much she didn't want to come to grips with the fact that he had been killed she couldn't deny that he'd been on a downward spiral for months. And she, unlike others, realized that his death had been inevitable one way or the other. There would have been no rehabilitation. Because her brother would never have gone to jail they would have found him with a bullet in his head or worse and a note with his reasoning. And that was the one thing she could not handle.
But from the time she'd gotten the call from her brother, when he'd cursed his best friend and wished him out of existance she couldn't help but feel guilty. Feeling as though she'd put a strain on their friendship with secrets she'd made him promise to keep and leaving him at the alter because she was nineteen and scared of making such a huge commitment when neither of their parents had been able to succeed at it either. Because at such a young age she wasn't ready for such a huge commitment but had accepted because everyone had pressured her into it with their feelings that it was right. And her brother had been the one to tell her to make her own decision though she knew he wanted her to marry Jim more than anything.
The salt that hangs in the air by the ocean water clings to the tears that have sprung and dries them out before they fall from her eyes burning like acid. But as always it is a part of the cleansing process. She pulls her hair over her shoulder and lets it run it's course eyes and throat stinging.
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Quicker than he thought his fast pace has carried him to the light house and only then does he slow down preparing to walk around the light house where, obscured from vision by the aging weathered woodwork, lies the place that has gotten him through rough times. The one place where the combination of water and void of intrusion by the winding road built by most of the coast can pull him back from the edge and make things make sense.
He realizes only when he's almost to the pill box that the shadow he'd seen but not comprehended is another human being. With no more than a gap of three feet between him and this person who has intruded upon his thinking he realizes nearly at once who it is and why they looked so familiar even though he can only make out the outline against the velvet black sky. The movements of their body and the way the moon, rising steadily higher in the dark night sky, shines off the hair thrown carelessly over their shoulders has told him the identity. He knows she's sitting there, staring at the water but not actually seeing it, looking for the answers to the questions they share. Answers neither will ever be able to know.
And for a minute he contemplates turning back. Coming back when he is sure to be alone, as he once thought, in the oppressive silence that surrounds the both of them. But his feet make the decision for him. As if they have a mind of their own they move him forward towards her quickly closing the distance between them. And for the first time he's unnaturally aware of how he's moving. Of the way his arms swing at his sides, of the way his heart is beating rapidly and loudly, and of the way his breathing has become rushed and forceful. Trying to correct everything he feels looks stupid he trips on a piece of drift wood and stumbles forward only just catching his balance before pitching forward into the concrete.
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Before she has time to comprehend who it is, before she can make an attempt to flee he's beside her. Awkwardly positioned after his near miss with the concrete and inwardly she laughs. But seeing him here, being alone in this place that had once been shared between them, is something she's not ready for. And just his presence unnerves her more than she would willingly admit.
"Can I join you?"
He asks it as though she would be able to simply reply with an answer. As though they didn't have a past and she were just an aquaintence he has. She turns the question over in her head looking for the hidden meaning but knowing that after three years he likely doesn't have one hidden as he used to. Knowing that he is likely just looking for a place to search his mind and soul for answers.
She scoots over creating a space large enough for him to sit in and not be too near her indicating her assent. He sits quietly beside her mimicking the way she was looking out over the ocean before he came perfectly.
"Expecting answers?"
She asks it having abandoned staring out at the dark water and studying the way he was sitting beside her. She imagined he looked every bit the way she remembered. Maybe older with time but his posture, smell, the cocky air around him... everything was so familiar. And though she's just heard herself ask him she's momentarily stunned that she had been the one to innitiate conversation.
He slowly nods turning from the water to meet her gaze before he answers, "Aren't we all?"
As always her simple question had been answered with just as simple and non-committal an answer that she's infuriated by it. But the expression on his face says that he's amused by the flash of annoyance he has seen cross her face.
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His unasked question lingered about him as he gazed out into the water an internal battle being waged. Asking the question is not the difficult part but hearing the answer could kill him. When he finally turns toward her she can see the anxious look on his face that he had unsuccessfully tried to mask.
"Do you hate me?"
He finally asks not looking at her but at a point just past her left shoulder where the moon glitters across a particularly smooth puddle of water.
In the seemingly long minutes that it takes for her to get over the shock of the asked question and comprehend what he is asking her, he finds his stomach not fully turning but giving a rather feeble lurch forward that seems to launch a million butterflies.
"Why would you ask that?"
The tone which she uses clearly states that this is a rhetorical question for which she expects no answer. A statment to buy her time while she fully overcomes the shock that the question has brought on.
"No I don't hate you. If anything.."
But she trails off jamming a hand through her tangled chestnut hair that he remembered being silky soft to the touch and never in such a state.If anything....?
He silently thinks ears straining to hear even the quietest of answers but nothing more follows. And he can tell by the way that she looks out at the water, eyes nothing more than unfocused honey orbs that she's deep in thought unwilling to finish her sentence.
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Hate him? She could never....why would he think such a thing?
"No I don't hate you. If anything..."
But she was able to stop herself from telling him that he should hate her. She couldn't tell him that at this very moment in the house of the very man that had recruited him and the every member of his SWAT team slept a little boy who shared not just his last name but every tiny detail down to the way he was mesmerized by every cop that seemed to pass. Only his eyes set their childhood pictures a part. For they belonged to his mother.
She wouldn't tell him now because he had suffered such a great loss. It was unfair to not only Jim but the little boy as well. And she convinced herself that this was why he couldn't know. But in truth she was afraid that she may lose the one thing to which she was sure she needed more than the child needed her.
She was afraid the child would be hurt. That he would get so caught up in the lifestyle his father lived that when his father's inner child awoke and pushed him away that he would be devastated beyond repair. She told herself that it was better for them both to keep emotional ties to the minimum avoiding any potential heart break for either.
"I really don't hate you."
The words come out as a whisper more for her own assurance than his.
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She says them so quietly against the night sky that they were barely audible. But his ears, seemingly sensitive to the slightest sound, pick them up. And he nods his head determining it fitting for the occasion but knows the words weren't intended for his reassurance.
He knows that she has spent a great deal of the last three years trying to hate him. That he was the scape goat behind her self loathing. But he couldn't blame her. After what had happened between them he was sure she needed a reason and he was willing to absorb everything she blamed on him and add it to what he had already stored having blamed himself.
"Not as much as I hate my brother."
This part she says only just louder than the last an after thought of the painful trip her brain had taken. He is shocked by this honest confession and can find no comforting words or a response of any kind.
Looking down at his watch as an excuse to avoid having to comment he is surprised to find that already it is two in the morning and he has work in just three hours.
"I...uh...I have to go."
Any other time, if only it where any other person he could leave it at that. Just a simple answer with no need for clarification and no expectations.
"I've got work in the morning."
They finish the sentence together and share another smile and another moment to add to their pile in the past.
"Yeah I better go too."
She stands from the concrete clearing her shorts of sand that remained clinging to the jean material. He meets her gaze for only a minute before she turns toward the opposite direction and starts toward the trail winding up the incline where she has parked her car on the abandoned dirt road, a shortcut to the freeway.
"Rydley." He calls after her already disappearing shadow.
"What?" She stops dead in her tracks facing, what he hopes, is him.
"If you're not doing anything at noon you should drop by. We'll do lunch or something." He says in a voice he hopes is more casual than desperate or hopeful.
"Ummm...."
For a minute disappointment clouds his head and he is surprised to find that his heart has taken up residency somewhere near his navel. He curses himself for asking having already foreseen the answer.
"Yeah that sounds okay."
He let out a breath he'd not known he was holding and let a smile he knew she couldn't see stay rooted firmly on his face.
"see you then."
"Yeah."
He watched her walk until she was no longer distinguishable from the night sky and turned jogging back to his apartment happier than he had felt when he'd started out.