For those of you curious as to why this is a stand-alone one-shot when I started to organize all my one-shots in to one story… it's because I'm uncertain if I want to run with this a little more or leave it as it is. For now, however, this is a stand-alone… and maybe one day I'll make up my mind. XD The credits for this fic idea go to "I Wish I Could Break Your Heart" by Cassadee Pope from her album Frame By Frame and is also partially due to my recent unsettlement about how we saw a rather short and rocky relationship between Mac and Peyton and then were left with that question of who she really was for us in "Point Of View." Don't know why… but I've recently gotten familiar with my true feelings being that maybe she wasn't the horrible person I originally condemned her to be… XD I also settled on first person for this. It seems that I've really enjoyed first person as of late…
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I chewed at my lip just slightly as I mindlessly stared out the window and leaned back in my seat on the flight back to New York. It was the first time in a long time that I remembered feeling rather alone and unsettled with what I'd done.
It hurt me to know I was soldiering back to New York without her, although I should've expected something like this. She deserved so much better than I'd given her even though it was very true that my loyalties still drew me back to that September in 2001.
I guess she'd seen me as a bit of a wild, untamable and unpredictable kind of creature, and I couldn't blame her if that had indeed been the impression I'd given her. I had a history to have a temper that most of the times I could keep in check and I was one hell of a pain in the ass.
I credit her for putting up with me so long. She had helped me through a hell of lot more than I had even realized until I boarded this very flight I was now on back in London. Alone.
I allowed my mind to wander back to that note I'd left on the table for her. I had actually taken the time to sit down and write this long, drawn-out expression of my feelings, most of which was regret, and I'd left it for her before I'd hailed a ride to the airport, knowing that she was out doing something and that the flight we were originally supposed to be getting on together would probably leave before she got back.
I think I realized a long time ago that it was very possible that this wouldn't work out between us… Somehow I just knew it wouldn't quite fit the way I told myself that it would. Don't get me wrong, I understand your decision… and I hope you can return that understanding and know that New York is my home just as much as London is yours. Truth is… I never ever wanted to hurt you, even though I knew I had the grand potential of doing just that and I know I have. I also knew I had the potential to really make a fool of myself and I guess I was honestly a little scared of what would happen if I let you get as close as I did. I honestly didn't know I'd have to worry about my own hurt feelings in this, but… I see now that I don't really have a chance here.
I'm taking the flight to New York alone, and maybe one day I'll hear from you again… When? I have no idea, if ever at that. Truth is, I almost wish I was strong enough to make you feel how I do and show you exactly how I feel walking out like this, because I know how strongly I feel right now, and it admittedly hurts like Hell. Call me harsh, but it's true… If I could be strong enough to show you how it felt, then I probably would. But I just can't bring myself to do that, and so… here I am writing this and by now I'd bet you're probably wondering how long I'm going to string you along with this horrible good-bye.
And I guess that's really all that's left to say… is good-bye. You know my number… I don't think it's going to change any time soon, and you know where to find me, should you ever happen to find yourself in a tight spot and back in New York.
I really had no idea when we started that saying this good-bye would be one of the hardest things I've ever had to do… but now?... It certainly feels like it is.
I don't even know how to sign my name on something like this… but… you know who it is, I know you do.
- Mac
Thinking back on it now, I was calling myself rather selfish. A selfish bastard. I would bet money that's what I sounded like when she read that. I wouldn't blame her.
I sighed quietly, rather glad that, with her not with me, I had pretty much all the space I could ask for on this plane with the spot that had been intended for her empty beside me.
"The truth is that I never ever wanna hurt you, baby,
But it'd be nice to know that I could,
Be strong enough to pull you under,
Throw you back a little thunder,
Even though I never would,
Oh, I wish I could break,
I wish I could break your heart."
I should've listened to my first instincts and known that I should've followed my age-old tradition of keeping work and pleasure separate matters. But I had trusted her and it hurt so much to think about how I'd said good-bye…
It hurt so much that I had to close my eyes to keep myself from really letting my inner emotions get the best of me. What on Earth ever happened to those moments when we could just joke around before we headed out together to a crime scene?
I shook my head and opened my eyes to look out the window again with a sigh. I had to refocus here… I know I had a few hours to do it, but jet lag when I got back in New York would have to be a problem I could deal with.
Knowing my job, I wouldn't be able to even say "non-stop" before I was back on a scene with my team. And I could already see that Stella probably would be the first, if not only one, to see through my mask that I had worked up over the years.
There were just some friends that knew me that well. And Stella was one of them. My eyes unfocused on something outside the window, I allowed myself some time to think over that.
She probably would ask, and I would tell her. I would tell her about how Peyton and I had really seen things put in perspective when we were in London and about how the jet lag was not my problem, but it was more so the way that I left her…
That way I'd told her good-bye and the way I'd told her that I knew it wouldn't work.
I think the flight attendant just skipped asking me if I wanted anything based off the look I knew was on my face. I had a lot on my mind, so I didn't quite care.
I was a little thankful, actually. I had enough to think about and enough people to try and put a brave face on for that I didn't need to add that flight attendant in to the mix. That'd be just too much on my plate for me to handle.
I sighed again. Love really was complicated. And I realized that it was the reason I'd been so hesitant to let Peyton close again. I didn't want to go through the heartbreak again, and here I was… I'd led myself right in to it.
It was almost painfully torturous how I'd told myself to expect it and yet I'd ignored my own warnings and how I'd wound up getting hurt with how I'd been stumbling with Peyton.
I know she told me I deserved better, but she deserved better than what I'd done, too. I don't care what she said to me about that. It was true as anything in my mind and it didn't help that pain that I swore I could feel in my chest.
Whether it was real or a figure or my imagination and emotions was entirely beyond my caring. I hated how I left her. I hated how I felt like I'd failed her. And most of all, I hated that I'd let myself do it.
I think that was what I shamed myself with the most out of everything. I'd let her get so close that it hurt when I had to say good-bye and I'd let myself get so close to her that I didn't like how I'd seen her able to cope with it a lot better than I was even though I didn't show it.
This was going to be a hell of a long flight back to New York…
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Song Credits
"I Wish I Could Break Your Heart" by Cassadee Pope off Frame by Frame