Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned (Unfortunately).
This is rather dark, never meant it to be just kinda ended up that way.
This is unbeta'd and written in 30 minutes so any mistakes are mine and mine only.
The shear crapness is also my fault :-)
It's been three months, I don't know how I'm still sober. Three months since I made the biggest mistake of my life. After Barry shot me something changed, I lost my cool, my confidence and the ability to do my job. I don't remember much apart from the flash of metal and three loud bangs as I sprayed a shower of bullets into his chest. Then there was the blood, at first I wasn't sure if it was his or mine. It was his, all his.
Then there were these arms, these strong, familiar but out of reach arms that held me up as I lost control of my legs, they turned to jelly beneath me and my gun fell to the floor as I got lost, lost in those arms.
The there was a shoulder, a shoulder I rested my head on in the taxi. A shoulder that caught my tears as they uncontrollably fell from bloodshot eyes. A shoulder that could offer nothing more than support for a brief time.
Then there was this heart, a heart that beat inside an out of reach chest. A fast beat, a beat that mirrored mine. A beat that ached for completeness and for the reasons why.
And then there were those eyes, those eyes that said I'm scared, those eyes that were unsure of what to do, unsure of what was going to happen but eyes that weren't going to betray.
Finally there were those lips, those lips that said I believe in you, those lips that crashed almost bruising against my own and those lips that tasted better than ever before.
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Three whiskeys, three cigarettes and three records later and I'm alone watching the rain. I love the rain but most of all I love the rain with him. Running through the streets under his coat, laughing and care free. Yes I love the rain. The rain that washes away impurities and uncertainties and the sun that brings new beginnings and starting overs. I'm going to miss the sun.
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Three days, three hours and three bottles of whiskey and he's walking through the door. There's no words, we never did need them. Words break hearts and ours are already broken beyond repair. He takes the glass from my lips and brings it to his own, he doesn't drink but there's something about being with me that makes him give in. Whiskey lips brushing together, sweaty clothes spreading over the floor, aching limbs tangled together and broken hearts numbly beating as one.
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Three words of advice, three broken glasses and three missing found but I'm still lost. I wonder if I'm ever going to be anything but lost. I like being lost but most of all I like being lost with him. If being lost means he's the only one that can find me then I want to be lost forever.
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Three sunrises, three sunsets and three somewhere inbetweens. He never stayed the night, he had to be home before his girls woke. There was this one time, the night of my birthday, we drank wine and watched the sunset from my apartment window before falling into routine. He didn't leave that night, something made him stay and we were still making love at sunrise. It was beautiful, oh so beautiful and the colours in his eyes made me cry. He cried too.
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Three lies, three unknowns and three truths. I felt bad every time he lied:
'I'm working late.'
'I know I promised but there's this case…'
'I love you.'
But he had to lie, for us to work he always had to lie. The unknowns intrigued me:
'I'm not sure where this is heading.'
'Maybe I could stay just this one time.'
'Maybe this will be forever.'
The unknowns were important, they kept us strong, kept us together. I loved every time he told the truth:
'I love you Sam.'
'I wish this was easier.'
'I'll never forget us, I'll never forget this.'
Our relationship was built on lies, unknowns and truths and I wouldn't have changed it for the world. I'm not sure if we would have lasted as long as we did if we'd lacked one of those. It was never going to be perfect but it was perfect enough, perfect enough in our little world with our three little words.
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Three months, three cups of coffee, three photos on the wall and I'm still breathing. Three times over and somehow I'm still breathing. I'm not sure it's because I want to be, I think it's more that I have to because there is no other way to get over this pain. Eventually I'll stop because when I die, I'll die with a broken heart.
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Three months, three bodies, three tears and somehow I still remember. I remember every word, every second and every flicker of pain but most of all I remember the rain. The rain on his skin, the rain on my skin and the rain on her skin. The rain washed away the blood, sweat, tears and his very existence.
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Three flashing lights, three lost minutes and three broken hearts. His, hers and mine. Three hearts that can never be fixed, two hearts that don't need to be. Her angry words, my silent tears and his silence, how did it come to this?
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Three different actions, three different minds and three different way of saying goodbye:
'Sam we can't do this.'
'Sam this isn't right, this has to stop.'
'It's over Sam.'
It didn't matter how many times he said it or how each time he tried to make it easier for me to deal with, we always started up again. Sometimes just for the day and sometimes for a week or two if I was lucky. It's never really over. I'm not bitter, I know that's the way it had to be but that didn't stop the hurt. At least this time I know it's really over.
I look towards the three other loves of his life, the woman he pretended he was in love with and the two reasons he pretended, his beautiful daughters. I see the hatred in that woman's eyes and the sadness within those little girls and I take a step forward. Martin grabs my arm but I pull away, I have every right to be here, every right to mourn for something that was never really mine. I bend down and drop a single yellow rose onto the coffin, the coffin of the man I love.
'I guess it's my turn to say those 3 little words.'
'It's over Jack.'
'And I'm still sober.'