And I know I'm a coward, I know I'm a slave,
to the same fucking reasons you'll never be saved,

By this unchosen hero, this futile attempt.
I will fight for myself, because no one's been sent.

He knew he was nothing more than the man who sat a couple doors down from her. He knew he could never live up to that of the man that she needed. Maybe he was more. Maybe he was her best friend, her safe haven. Maybe he was her partner in work, but never at home.

She needed a hero. She desperately needed a hero and was screwed over with Cal's sad excuse for a savior. Rather than being the person she needed to save her, he was part of the cancer - spreading the pain and the disasters that he didn't know how to avoid.

She thought he was her hero. Praying that he would one day save her, she waited for her knight in shining armor that would never show up, because Cal was there, futilely praying himself that he could one day save the princess.

How he ended up falling into the category of hero, he didn't know and he desperately wanted to. He desperately wanted out of this sticky situation. He couldn't save Gillian. He would never be her knight in shining armor and he had to get away.

But he wanted to be the chosen one. He wanted to be the one that would one day be worthy of saving her.

"They say the sword bows to the might of the pen, because the blade's wound is clean, while the ink will bleed in," he whispered weakly.

Frowning, she raised an eyebrow and asked, "Hmm?"

His eyes fell to a sheet of paper in his hand and sighed heavily. "You're being transferred, love."

"No." She stood up and rushed towards him, taking the crinkled paper in her own hands and reading it over, then reading it again, and finally a last time. "They can't do this to me..." she whispered.

He had nothing to do. Having nothing to say, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her towards him. "They can."

"But... but we started this together! This is our business! They can't just move me!"

He let go and stared at her eyes. Those eyes that were free and that's when he realized that she wasn't the one trapped that needed saving, he was. He was trapped in his body like a dog in a cage. He desperately needed a savior, but he would get nobody. Gillian was being taken away right in front of his eyes and he could do nothing. He would be forced to save himself, before he could even get close to saving her.

"What do you want me to do, Gill? The FBI do whatever the hell they want! There's nothing I can do!"

"Stop them, Cal!" she practically begged.

Save me! That's what she was screaming to him and he knew that it was useless. "There's nothing I can do..." he whispered.

"Cal... You need to do something! You're in charge here. You're not even going to try?"

"Gill, listen..." It was pointless. To push on like there was something he could actually do.

Maybe transferring her would be for the better. Maybe she could find a man that could really, truly protect her. Maybe, just maybe, she would be saved. Saved from all the disastrous things she's been through. Saved from all the stupid men that couldn't love her like she needed.

He was a coward, and it was obvious to him now. He was terrified of trying to save her because he was terrified of failing. A real chivalrous man wouldn't give a shit about the possible outcome - apart from the fact that it could possibly save the princess. But no, Cal was terrified of hurting her, and wasn't even trying to see the beautiful possibilities of saving it.

It was no use. He was a coward and it was about damn time that he realized it.

What the bloody hell was he supposed to do? Go talk to the FBI? Tell them that what they were doing was a big mistake? They were the fucking FBI for goodness sake. There was nothing he could do about this. Nothing at all.

"Gill, I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do!"

Her eyes begged for a savior that he could never be. Her hands held onto him like he was her safe haven, like he was her only hope, like he was the one who would save her.

He wanted to just go die right now, because he knew there was nothing he could do. It was a moot point - trying to ask him for help that he obviously had not obtained in his ten years of knowing her.

"I'm sorry." It was all he could say. All he could do was apologize. "I'm sorry..." He needed her to understand that he was nothing he could do.

She took his face in her hands and pulled him down until he was mouthing 'I'm sorry' against her soft lips. He kissed back immediately, of course - because he didn't know what else to do.

The second she pulled away, he found the strength. There was the fighting power that he needed all along. A kiss. A simple fucking kiss.

The End (A Coward's Lament by Reptile Dysfunction)