Inhale.
You take in the scent of the left over cologne he had on following today's events. The warmth of his bare chest against your skin sends shivers down your spine.
He shifts in his sleep, pulling you closer without even knowing it.
You realize one thing, that you feel safe.
The tightness of his arms relaxes as he settles back to sleep—you still lying wide-awake, still trying to take in what all has happened in the past twenty-four hours.
Been interrogated? Check.
Been mind-screwed? Check.
Been screwed? Check.
One of your teammates got shot? Check.
Now lying in bed with the man you wanted so dearly to hate, but still loved him? Check.
Your eyes wander over to him and you look down at his still form, resting around yours peacefully. You wonder if he'll ever see from the same position you do. You wonder if he'll ever understand how you felt when you had to tell him it was over.
He rolls back a bit, releasing you from his grip as his eyes slightly open. He shrugs at you and asks you if you're alright, and all you can do is nod and pull him close to you. He settles back in with his head near your chest, and his hand wrapped around your waist.
All you can think about his how this will never be.
You train of thought leads you to think about how on earth you even got here this time.
An hour after you were sent away from the station, you showed up at his door. He willingly let you in—and ten minutes later, you willingly let him in as clothes shredded off and your fingers mangled together. Twenty minutes after he fell beside you and you collected your thoughts, his phone rang—Ed had been shot. Five minutes later, your phone rang with the same message. You both gathered your bearings and rushed to the hospital to see Ed lying in the emergency room, heavily bruised from where the bullet had hit his vest.
You along with a few others say your goodbyes and let Ed and his family be with the newborn baby he was able to hobble up to the delivery room to see.
As you're walking through the parking lot he catches your eye and instead of walking home, you find yourself in the passenger seat of his car with his lips attached to yours before he released you to drive home.
After he attempted a round two of "who can get naked first", you shrugged him off and got settled in for bed.
And there you lay, on the bed you swore to yourself you'd never lie on again—and he pulled you into it with open arms, you unable to say no to him.
His warm grasp on you seems to always override the agony of all the problems at work, the bills that need to be paid, or whatever son of a bitch ran into your trashcan again that morning. Nothing bothers you while you're with him—except for him. The pain in your mind that you know this will never be real is what kills you inside.
He's still sound asleep, still wrapped around you because he swore he'd never let go.
The never-ending horror of the final scenes of Titanic start to run through your mind.
You shake it off and reset the scene of you facing Dr. Toth and spilling your guts to a man you had never met. Why should he worry about your relationship and sex life? Sure didn't seem like he had much of one.
Your mind picks up on that and finds a humorous tick of the thought of who on Earth would marry someone like Toth.
Sam's movement brings you out of it as his hand traces down the length of your hair and you nudge in closer to him.
From the first time he had flirted with you about going out for beer and burritos, to the night he helped you escape from the dreadful thoughts of what you could have let happen at the Royal York, and to all the times he helped you "drywall" as the two of you liked to call your painting, sex, and beer nights on your living room floor—you can't find yourself giving up the sweet memories you spent before you decided to end it to return to the team.
And then there was Steve. Oh Lord, Steve.
You knew he wanted to be back with you so bad, but whenever you tried to picture the two of you with a dog and two kids—the man in the picture always came out blonde and tough, with blue eyes and a kid to match.
Unconscientiously, your hand traces through his and you find that image reappearing in the back of your mind. The two of you, two kids and a family dog—his mom finding any chance possible to come live with the two of you to play with her grandkids. It was a happy time in your life—.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Your train of thought is split in two by the sound of his alarm going off.
5:30
You hadn't slept a minute all night long, and it was time to get up and ready for an eight hour shift—or more-so to find out what your future at the SRU held.
He leans over to kiss you and you give him a small peck back.
There are no emotions to describe how you feel as you roll out of bed and stumble to the bathroom to wake yourself up. No emotion at all.
Thinking back on the past twenty-four hours you wonder if your life will ever be the same. One thing's for sure—the next twenty-four could make or break who you are as a person, an SRU officer, and you hate to say it, a girlfriend.
A splash of water to your face wakes you of your thoughts—now if only you could forget about everything and move on. If only life was that simple.