She is sorry
She is sorry for what she does to him. Late at night, when there's no one but her, she even admits it, as she slips out of her apartment, vowing that it's just for a walk this time. Vows that she won't go to him and the comfort his arms offer, vows that she'll cope with her demons by herself so as to save him from the pain, and, even as she thinks it, she knows that it's a lie.
She remembers how it started. She remembers laughing as they walked across the campus. Remembers the look of terror that crossed his face, and a glimpse of red as he knocked her to the ground. Remembers trembling at the way he covered her with his body- her protector, her shield- as bullets from both sides whistled over their heads, and the fear of losing him that was suddenly so powerful it almost made her breath stop.
She remembers his muffled cry of pain as a bullet ricocheted from the ground and grazed his leg, and how he had pinned her more firmly as she tried to make sure he was alright, forcing her to stay low and out of danger.
Remembers the silence after the bullets stopped.
Remembers voices getting louder and louder as Charlie pushed himself up, meeting her eyes to ensure she was all right, even as Don pulled him up to check him, and Meghan reached down to grab her hand. Remembers how her heart ached so badly at the idea that he would have given his life for her. Remembers avoiding his eyes as she gave her statement, whilst the EMT's wrapped a bandage around his leg. Remembers smiling at Meghan, thinking she was doing so well, and the way the other woman had reached up to wipe away the tears she can't remember shedding. Remembers risking a glance at Charlie, and seeing his heart break at her expression.
She remembers being given a blanket and coffee, and looking up to see if they'd thought to give Charlie some too, and the sudden fear as he wasn't there. Remembers Don calling out to her as she walked calmly away from the scene and up into the building, knowing where he was and suddenly needing to touch him more than she needed to breathe. Remembers the way she came in without knocking and how she had closed the door behind her - the 'click' of the lock as her fingers turned it. Remembers the calm that came over her as she walked around the room, closing the blinds as she went so as to prevent anyone from seeing them, and then the fierce desperation that flooded through her as he placed his hands on her hips and kissed her neck, offering her a comfort she couldn't deny. Remembers grabbing the lapel of his jacket as she turned and kissed him, needing to be closer to him, to feel his heartbeat, to taste him, just to know he was alive and there.
She remembers the way he kissed her, driving away the pain, the memories, erasing them from her mind and replacing them with thoughts of only him. Remembers how she greedily drank him in, and how he felt as he moved around her, matching her frantic pace as she pulled him ever closer. Remembers how she kissed him when it was over, dressed and left, unwilling to let him see how much she now needed him. Remembers how she had walked to her apartment, and closed the door behind her, sliding down to sit on the floor. Those tears, she remembers.
She stops, looking at the house before her and sighs. A soft light filters through the window, revealing the profile of her friend and lover, and she sits, cross legged on the sidewalk, ignoring the rain that pelted down around her, watching him as he writes. She knows as well as he does that what they're doing is wrong. She knows, and she cares, and she still can't stop – she is addicted, and has no way to stop.
Remembers the other times, the times that come much more frequently than before, and the way she would show up without a word, and she remembers the haunted look that would flash across his eyes before he would take her by the hand and banish her demons with his touch, asking nothing in return. Knows that tonight will be the same, and wishes she would tell him how much she loves him, how much she wants to be with him, talk to him. Vows instead to show him, knowing that she could offer him some measure of comfort. Vows that she will stay, even when the sun rises. Knows that she probably won't.
Walks over and knocks on the door, not bothering to force a smile, knowing it upset him that she wasn't actually happy. He opens the door, tired and haunted and hesitates a moment, before opening the door to allow her entry. Forces herself not to succumb to his touch so quickly, she walks to the middle of the room, looking around. He is concerned and her heart beats faster as he comes up to brush her cheek with his hand, and she turns to kiss his palm, watching as he shivers at the gesture, before pulling him close and resting her head on his chest. His heart too, beats faster, and she smiles as he begins to sway, soothing her frazzled nerves.
"This has to end," he whispers, pain lacing his voice and she almost startles at the sound. Never, in all their time together, had words been uttered and it frightens her that it hurts him so much, so she nods, pulling him closer. Just one last time, she vows, and looks up, grateful to find that he's looking down at her as well, before reaching up to tenderly brush her lips against his. She will show him how much she loves him, how grateful she is to him, and she will stay. He dips his head to kiss her shoulders and neck and she inclines her head automatically, running her hands up his back as she begins to lose herself in the sensations. "This is killing me, Amita," he whispers against her skin and she fights the tears that spring to her eyes. 'I know', she wants to say, but instead just nods, and tugs his t-shirt out of his jeans to pull it over his head.
She knows that what they are doing is wrong. Vows to herself that it will end tonight, vows that she will not inflict this pain on him anymore, and even as she thinks it, she knows it is a lie. She is sorry and kisses him again.