Hello, everyone! I present to you a oneshot I wrote. It was inspired by the volume eight preview, which made me go beserk.
Disclaimer: I do not, and never will (to my knowledge) own Cause of Death.
Sunlight beamed from behind the few white clouds lingering in the blue February sky. Birds sang in the distance, but their melody fell on deaf ears.
The sun wasn't supposed to be shining. Not today. Where were the gray skies? Why wasn't thunder rumbling? Thunder to mingle with the anger and sadness, and raindrops to mask the tears. But none of that seemed to truly happen when people died.
In his career, he had seen many people die. Some were strangers, and some were ones he cared about. Tasha King had been the first. Blaise Corso had been the next. The environment around him was silent, but in his mind, gunshots rang and screams echoed. He could still see her crimson red blood trickling through his fingers in rivulets as he tried to stop the bleeding. He remembered clearly the look of fear in her eyes, the way her chest stopped moving under his hands...
Death was inevitable. He knew that well enough. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt to lose somebody. It didn't mean that watching the life drain out of someone's eyes wouldn't leave a scar.
He shuddered and ran his fingers across the polished granite of the tombstone. His fingertip caught on the indented lettering of her name, and he looked away.
Natara had told him that there was nothing he could have done, but he had never been the type to listen. He had left the station in a hurry, mute to the world. The next few days had consisted almost entirely of lying on his couch, ignoring the piercing wails of his cell phone.
Mal closed his eyes, enveloping his vision with darkness. He was too lost in thought to hear the sound of footsteps falling softly onto the green grass. He wasn't aware of another presence until a hand came to rest on his shoulder. He didn't need to open his eyes to know who had come.
"I let her die," he whispered. "I was right there. I could have done something... Anything. But I didn't."
"You tried," Natara said softly. "But you couldn't have stopped what happened, Mal." He opened his eyes and turned to face her.
"You know I can't believe that," he admitted.
Natara sighed. "I know you won't. But you should." She stood beside him in silence for several long moments, her hand still lingering on his shoulder. "I know it's hard for you, Mal. The two of you were close."
He nodded slightly, trying to settle the mixed emotions running through his mind. Natara's words were true. Blaise had been close to him. When he lost Tasha, it had been difficult. Losing Blaise proved itself to be even harder, but he couldn't even begin to wonder what he would do if he lost Natara. But he kept those thoughts to himself.
"Think what you want. But it wasn't your fault. You weren't the one that shot her. And I want you to know that I'm here for you."
"Okay." He glanced back at his partner. "Thanks." His voice cracked, and Natara took that moment to hug him comfortingly. Mal hesitated for a moment before closing his eyes and winding his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder. Natara's hand rested on his back, rubbing small soothing shoulders as he bit back a choked sob.
Neither of them spoke, but a simple touch said more than a thousand words.
Review away! And you can thank 4everyoung10 for demanding that I write this!