Disclaimer: Think about it y'all. If I were Andrew Marlowe, why would I be on here writing FANfiction. Just saying.

Love is a funny thing. It can make you happy. It can make you want to cry. It can make you so ridiculously confused that you can't help but wonder, "Why me?"

Around the time my dad divorced Mom, he started teaching me about love. I didn't understand why she had just walked out one day, with her suitcases in tow, and why Daddy said she wouldn't be coming back anytime soon. Weren't your mom and dad supposed to love each other? What is love, then? Despite being a renowned author, he was having a difficult time putting love into words.

"Love exists in many forms. It can be simple, like the love you have for Monkey Bunkey." He held up my favorite monkey, and I eagerly grabbed it and crushed it against my chest, further proving his point. He continued, "Love can be confusing. It can make you angry and sad and…"

"Like you and Mommy?" I cut off.

He paused. "Yeah. Kinda like that." He turned away and smiled sadly, clearly reminiscing.

"But love can also be wonderful. It can give you a reason to wake up in the morning, and to want to be the best you can be."

"And who makes you feel a love like that?"

He tweaked my nose. "You."

"I love you too, Daddy." I wrapped my arms around his neck and gave him a big squeeze, and felt him return the favor when he placed his hands on my shoulder and back.

"Alexis, this is probably a lot to take in all at once, and I know I haven't done it justice. The word is easy to add a definition to, just pick up any dictionary and see for yourself. However, the feeling is harder to describe. There are no words for the joy, or the pain…" He trailed off, and I snuggled deeper into his embrace.

"When you find love for yourself Alexis, greet it like an old friend. Don't shy away from it, and definitely don't fear it." I pulled back and gave Dad my best "huh?" face, and he laughed.

"Daddy, how can you fear something like love? If it's so wonderful, why would I be afraid of it? Is it that scary?"

He chuckled again, and kissed the tip of my nose. "You remember last week at the pool, when you jumped off the diving board?" I nodded my head fervently.

"Well, do you also remember how when you got to the top, and you looked down, and you told me you couldn't do it anymore?" I smiled sheepishly, and he continued with a smile. "Finally, do you remember what I told you?"

I thought for a moment. "That I'll regret walking away from it, because if the time is right, I shouldn't waste it. That I don't want to come back and see they took away the diving board, and be left wondering 'If only…'" As I said those words, it suddenly clicked in my head where my dad was going with this. That if you don't take the plunge, you'll never know, and the last thing you want is to live with that regret, knowing you could have missed out on the best thing that ever happened to you. My epiphany was cut short by my dad shifting me on his lap. I glanced up at him, a grin on my lips.

"So do you think you get it now? That fear is your worst enemy when it comes to love, because something good always comes out of taking that plunge."

My "huh?" face gave a repeat performance, and Dad chuckled again. "Did I confuse you again?"

The confused look now came with a complimentary "well duh!" stare. "But you were so unhappy when Mommy left. What good came out of that?"

The largest of smiles appeared on his face, and for the second time that day he touched my nose before saying, "You. Now, who wants to make cookies?"

I jumped off his lap and yelled, "I do!" before running off into the kitchen, my dad hot on my heels.

Three years later, that same public swimming pool was replaced with a new pool. However, this one lacked a diving board, and for the next few years whenever Dad and I would pass that pool I would remind him of the day I faced my fears and jumped off that diving board.

Eight years after that, Detective Beckett was shot while giving the eulogy for Captain Montgomery, who was killed in the line of duty. When she was shot, everything was moving in slow motion. My dad diving for Detective Beckett. Everyone else diving for the ground. The shouts flying through the air, some informing the other officers of who got shot, and others demanding an ambulance be brought to the cemetery. I only had eyes for my dad, who was whispering something to Detective Beckett.

And similar to the one I had when I was six, this epiphany was about love. Despite working with her for three years, Dad never got over the fear of what would happen if he shared his true feelings with Detective Beckett. His two failed marriages were most likely to blame for that.

My dad probably had a chance to take the plunge. He probably had several chances. But he wasted each and every one of those, undoubtedly waiting for the right time to confess his love. And now it's too late. His diving board, Kate Beckett's life, was being taken away from him, and there's nothing he could do about it. If only he had plucked up the courage and said something. If only their late nights at the precinct and lunches at Remy's had turned into something more. If only she hadn't gotten shot, robbing my Dad of any more chances. If only love wasn't so wonderful and complicated and joyful and depressing, all at the same time.

If only…

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