This is a what-if story. I simply took the characters and put them in a situation of my own creation.
Disclaimer: Law&Order: Criminal Intent and the characters are, of course, not my intellectual property. NBC, USA, Dick Wolf and whoever else can claim it are welcome to the money. This is purely a fan-created, not-for-profit work.
THE NIGHT NURSE
October 23rd
Understand that she is not subject to the same strictures you are. You liberated her from them yourself. She may come and go as she pleases now. You are required to remain despite your futile, pathetic attempts otherwise.
Recall the night she first came to you. Sudden, confident and tender. Her old, familiar wry grins and smirks replaced with soft smiles, soft looks, and soft hands. She should have been pale and trembling, stiff with fear. She should not have been here at all. Instead she stroked your hair, bandaged your wounds, and ignored everything which had gone before. "Let me take care of you," she urged.
Let her.
November 10th (you think)
Begin to accept her presence. She is there every night, but you never know where. Usually when you are brought back from dinner she is perched on the side of the bed. Sometimes she comes later in the evening, but you never see her arrival.
Once, when you shuffled into the bathroom she was there. Standing before the mirror, she was calmly flossing her teeth as if the place belonged to her. You smiled and when the movement stretched unused muscles and made you wince, her reflection laughed at you. It was a cheering, joyous sound that echoed off the tiles. You don't deserve it.
December (it must be, there are Christmas decorations)
Each night is the same. A comforting routine. "You need a shave," she says first. "Come here."
You mutely obey and allow her to tend to this most intimate, most delicate procedure. She applies the razor with long, sure strokes. You wish you could purr like a cat under her touch. She is so close that your ragged face is reflected in her eyes, filling them completely. You wonder how that could be. How she can bear to stay with you now when you did not stay with her then.
Sometimes you flinch, remembering. She cuts you by accident, then cries and kisses the wound. "No memories!" she whispers. Her tears mix with your blood and their salt stings. You wish it hurt more. You deserve pain.
Winter (that's all you know)
Silence outside. Snow covers everything. She sits in here and talks to you all night, yet never mentions the past. It is buried under the snow, waiting for spring to reveal all.
You want to explain to her. Apologize. Tell how you came back and didn't leave her for as long as you could. How you begged her forgiveness for your failure. Waited in vain for her answer.
Tell how when they finally found you, dazed with grief, you fought wildly against separation. Fought until they had to bind you and carry you out. Screamed until your throat was raw and silent when you saw her carried out as well.
Every night you try with your eyes, your face, your hands, to show how sorry you are. Solemnly you stroke her soft throat, her smooth cheeks. The wounds are gone. Instead, she is blushing with laughter as she pulls your hands away and kisses them. Enjoy it while you can.
March 22nd (you saw the date on the newspaper in the lobby)
Tonight you make your way to the stairs and then the roof to wait for her. She is the one who showed you the way up and out. She will find you there easily enough.
Crouch and stare through the darkness, knowing that spring has jumped the fence and entered the yard. You haven't seen the glitter of ice on your window in weeks. During the day you notice that there is a suspicious tint of green on the trees along the driveway. At night she is later to arrive and sooner to leave now. Worry about this.
She is behind you suddenly. Her hands are massaging your stiff shoulders through the thick terrycloth of the bathrobe which is your last possession from the old days. You breathe a sigh and see only the barest trace of it in the air. She leans down and kisses your stubbly cheek with cool lips.
"Bobby." Her breath is a bright plume of white. "You need a shave," she says. Smile, since it comes easily now and she likes it. Rise and let her lead you inside. Submit to her careful ministrations. Allow her to slip off the bathrobe and dress you warmly.
She takes you back to the roof. You stand side by side at the edge, looking out over the pale parking lot below. The air is mild, yet somehow her breath still makes little clouds. You are afraid she will be gone any moment. Clutch her small fingers in your large hand. Let her know that you won't allow it this time.
Go with her.
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Author's Note: The structure and tone of this story are based on the short story "Amahl and the Night Visitors" by Lorrie Moore. Also inspired by, the fanfic "The Night Visitor" by red-tenko here on which is also based on Moore's story. I enjoyed writing this a great deal b/c of the 2nd person viewpoint. Also, Crazy!Bobby is just fun to play with! Review and let me know what you think! -Neg