It could have been any one of them.
It could have been all of them.
So why was it only him? Why only Jesse that hadn't made it through the gassing of their lab when everyone else had come through with nothing more than sore lungs and minor bumps?
Natalia had said her goodbyes first, sobbing over Jesse's lifeless body as it still lay in the lab, Horatio holding her tightly. Natalia needed it, the reassuring grip that let her know that she was still alive, and the rest of them, all standing with her, all ready to take down the man responsible for Jesse's death.
What could Ryan say then? It wasn't the time. So he hid his pain behind a mask of determination. He was going to do whatever it took to bring the bastard in, to make him pay for taking away a good cop, a good man. Jesse would have done the same.
Horatio was next, standing with Loman over Jesse's body on the autopsy table. His clothes had been cut off, his effects lined up neatly on a metal tray, but still not processed. There was no rush. They knew what had killed him. No one, not even Loman, was ready to cut into their friend.
What could Ryan say then? It wasn't the time. So he spun on his heel, brushing from his shirt the last bits of dust his crawl through the ventilation system had left as he headed back to the lab. It didn't matter that he'd been picked for that job just because he'd been the smallest guy in the lab because if making his way through the air ducts would help them figure out what had happened, Ryan would have volunteered for it. Jesse would have done the same.
Walter said his good byes later, indignant that none of Loman's assistants had made it so far as to clean the dried blood from Jesse's head. He sat there, cleaning it himself as carefully as if Jesse had only been wounded and might at any second wake from the pain of a too harsh touch. He spoke in soft tones, words too low for Ryan to make out, tears on the verge of spilling over, a desperate battle to keep them back.
What could Ryan say then? It wasn't the time. So he left again, leaving Walter his time to mourn. Time. Ryan had thought he'd have plenty of time. Time to come to terms with the way he looked at Jesse, and the way Jesse looked back. Time to accept the feelings he hadn't been able to stop growing in his chest. It was the only thing he had ever asked of Jesse after the man came to him, baring his own thoughts and feelings and letting Ryan know he hadn't been alone in his confusion. What had that time got him, but Jesse's death? Walter got something from his time, a piece of glass that Ryan prayed would be the break they needed. Ryan was glad for Walter's fervor. He attacked that tiny piece of glass like it might in fact hold the keys to the universe. Jesse would have done the same.
Calliegh waited until they'd caught the bastard before she said her good byes. Jesse was dressed in his LAPD uniform and she stood over him, smiling slightly as she polished his shield. She wouldn't want to show him a sad face, not here at the end. But she was crying too, as pained as they all were despite the strong front she'd put up during their investigation.
What could Ryan say then? It wasn't the time. So he left once again, staring at his reflection in the elevator doors as they slid closed. It was never the time. Jesse was gone now, and all he had left was the memory of one kiss, one moment of Jesse pressing his lips to Ryan's and swearing that what they felt was something worth looking into. One sweet smile and one calloused hand mussing his hair, a wordless agreement to give Ryan the time he'd thought he needed. It was never the time.
The doors slid open and for several seconds Ryan stood still, watching the techs and personnel hustle around the lab floor like nothing had changed, like the entire world hadn't just become a bit more gray with the loss of just this one man. Then he reached out, jamming his thumb on the button that would take him back down to the autopsy room, back to Jesse. It wasn't the time. It was never going to be the time.
Calleigh was at the elevator doors when they opened. She looked at Ryan, eyes red from crying and slightly wide at the sight of him. And why not? He and Jesse had never been friends, not like the others. Then she smiled, and patted a hand gently on his shoulder as they passed through the doors, her going in and him coming off, as if she somehow understood everything he had never said. He didn't stay long enough for the doors to close, just headed straight for Jesse.
He was dead. Ryan knew that as he looked down at the man. But even in death, the color drained from his cheeks and that cut that couldn't quite be hidden by his hair, Ryan could swear the man was still smiling. Those dimples were still visible in his cheeks and Ryan still wanted to touch them. He held back, because it was what he was used to doing.
"I'm sorry, Jesse," he murmured softly. Then his voice caught in his throat. Sorry for not accepting what he'd already known. Sorry for the time he wasted not simply giving in. Sorry that he'd never get that time back. He sighed and swiped a hand over his face, willing back the tears he'd been holding in since he'd seen Jesse on the floor, not moving, not waking up like the rest of them. But he forced himself to speak. He owed Jesse that much. "You were right. All those times I hoped some simple solution was the answer, all the times I tried to get out of handling a case with you as fast as possible. I was scared…" he cleared his throat and glanced upwards, the words still almost too difficult to say even now. Especially now. "I was scared of liking you too much." He looked back down to Jesse's face, studying the dark lashes that rested against his cheek, closed forever now. He lifted a hand to touch that face, but let it drop back to his side instead. "I love you," he admitted softly and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough to tell you when it would have mattered."
For long minutes, he stood there, letting himself remember Jesse, his smiles, his glances, his challenges. He laughed a little as he remembered the look on Jesse's face when the man had tried to get out of searching that plane's toilet with a game of paper-rock-scissors. He pressed a hand to his eyes as he remembered Jesse's confession and his kiss. Then he let his hand fall, and smiled down at Jesse, even if the man could no longer see it, because Ryan was more like Calleigh than he might ever admit out loud. He didn't want that sad face in these last moments. It wasn't how he wasn't to remember Jesse.
What could Ryan say then, that hadn't already been said? It wasn't the right time. That time had slipped by, and he'd been too much of a coward to stop it. So he said good-bye, taking one last look at Jesse's too-pale face under the florescent lighting, and left the room. He met the others as he got off at the lobby and went with them to cheer up Walter. A good game of basketball would take their minds off of things. It didn't matter that he was really too short for the game, he was still a decent player. When one of them was hurting, they all hurt. And they all worked to try and make it better.
Jesse would have done the same.
A/N: I am obsessed with Jesse/Ryan and I'm sad that no one else seems to be! So I made one of my own. I have a happier one in the works, really, but I'm mourning a loss here.