Blind Memory: Might Have Been
AN: These are little vignettes, that started out as being part of "Blind Memory" back in 2004, but that for various reasons I didn't wind up using in the final draft of the story (one of the major reasons being that I had originally thought the story would be from multiple viewpoints, but finally decided that it really needed to be from Tim's POV). But I really kind of like them, in and of themselves, and I figured that some of you might like them as well, so as a little holiday thing, I figured I'd post them as sort of outtakes from the original story.
I own nothing you recognize, of course.
This scene would have taken place shortly after Chapter 4. I ultimately decided that Tim had more than enough to deal with without introducing old flames to the picture...
Speed sat down on the curb a bit away from the building. It was just past sunset and the warm breeze felt good, since he was freezing from having spent the whole day in the arctic temperatures of the lab. He sighed as he rested his head on his knees and closed his eyes.
"It can't be as bad as all that." He heard a familiar voice tinged with amusement and raised his head to find a woman standing in front of him.
"What in the hell are you doing here?" he asked, after a long moment. He hadn't seen her in at least five years.
"I'm back," she said, simply, sitting down next to him.
"They let you come back?" he asked, incredulously.
"Actually, I was asked to come back, believe it or not," she said, with a bit of a smile. The same bit of a smile that she used to have when she used to wake him up in the morning.
"Mmm," he said, trying not to react.
"So, how've you been, Tim?" she asked.
"I'm fine," he said, shortly.
"Of course you are," she said, nodding. She pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket and tapped one out. "Want one?" she asked.
"No," he replied. "I quit."
"You did? When?" she asked, with some surprise.
"About 7 years ago," he said, dryly.
"Huh. For real?" she asked.
"Yeah," he nodded.
"How did I not know that?" she asked. "We were still together 7 years ago."
"You'd gone to night shift," he said, with a calmness he really didn't feel.
"Huh. I never noticed," she said, frowning.
"There were a lot of things you stopped noticing," he said quietly.
She was quiet, taking long drags off of her cigarette. "You're right. I'm sorry."
He shrugged. "Doesn't matter."
"It did at the time," she said. "Didn't it?"
He didn't reply, just rested his chin on his knees.
"Timothy Daniel Speedle," she sighed.
"Bridget Marie Mueller," he shot back, defensively. He'd never really liked it when she used his full name.
She smirked, but regarded him seriously for a long moment. "You're not sleeping, are you?" she asked, finally.
"I'm fine," he replied.
"You're not," she said. "You're not sleeping, Tim. I know how you look when you're exhausted."
"I know," he said, with a sigh.
"You should do something about it, you know," she said.
"You," he said, slowly, "gave up the right to say those sorts of things."
"Tim…" she said.
"No, Bridget. You left. You don't get to tell me how to live my life anymore," he said, flatly.
"I didn't stop caring just because I left, you know" she said.
"Yeah, well, you sure didn't show it," he retorted. "I've been just fine these past five and a half years without you, you know."
"Right. If you're so fine, then why are you still alone?" she asked.
"Maybe I want to be alone," he said, tightening his grip around his knees.
"You don't want to be alone. You never wanted to be alone," she said, softly.
He didn't answer. She was the first girl he'd ever loved, and the only thing that had ever even come close to covering up the hole in his heart. "You shouldn't have done the things you did," he said, finally.
"Probably not," she agreed. "But I can apologize."
"I don't want your apology," he said. He didn't. He really didn't want anything to do with her. It hurt too much, especially coming on top of everything else.
"Tim…" she sighed. "Why do you have to be so damn stubborn?" He shrugged. "You gotta trust someone sometime, you know."
That was the last straw. She had betrayed him. She had left him. She had been the one to break trust. He climbed to his feet. "I got work to do," he said, turning around and heading for the building.
"Tim, wait," she called after him.
He didn't turn back.