"I was just guessing,
At numbers and figures,
Pulling the puzzles apart,
Questions of science,
Science and progress,
Did not speak as loud as my heart,
Tell me you love me,
Come back and haunt me,
I want to rush to the start,
Running in circles,
Chasing tails,
Coming back as we are.
Nobody said it was easy,
Oh it's such a shame for us to part,
Nobody said it was easy,
No one ever said it would be so hard,
I'm going back to the start."
Johnette Napolitano – The scientist.
"It's never easy to lose a loved one. It's never easy to continue as they are stuck in the past. It's this train you have been thrown off, and somehow, someway, you must get back on the train. If you don't, you'll be forever dwelling in past memories and being a present ghost, chasing a future that doesn't exist."
If he could just sit here, forever, not having to move, his world wouldn't be so cruel, the pain wouldn't be so bad. If he could just remain where he was, let the rest of the world pass him by like the traffic did during rush hour. It would have been so much easier. For the past days, he felt like everything had slipped right through his fingers and he had sat in their bedroom staring at the clock, watching time tick away.
He didn't care.
He couldn't care.
For days he had laid in their bed, smelling her, remembering her, visualizing her. Often, it had led him straight into wetting the sheets with his salty tears, burying his head under the pillow and wanting to let the world end. Or at least stop, stop so he could get used to the empty hole in his heart and that aching in his chest. At some point, the still sharp pain in his chest became something he graved deeply and he wished it would never go away because he wanted to miss her every single minute of his worthless day, only if just to remind him of what he used to have.
And so he remained seated, just sitting there, let the world pass him by like the row of yellow cabs. He had no intentions of ever moving again. He would stay still and wait till darkness took over and he was more than willing to let go, to let it all go.
Quietly and silently, he stared ahead of him, at the white statue of one of God's angels, portraying ease and belief. If he had any intention of moving a muscle, he would have scowled at the angel. But he didn't, so he just stared.
The calmness of the church gave him a sort of peace and it helped him shut out the rest of the world. The high and strong walls protected him from the outside and finally he understood why the church was a shelter to so many.
Careful footsteps echoed through the church and a wave of exhaustion flushed through his body, another person whom felt sorry for him. Another person whom believed she was too young. Another person sorry for his loss. If he had any intention of moving, he would have told the person to stay the hell away and leave him and his misery alone. But he didn't, so he let the person slowly walk through the church and take a seat next to him.
Mac Taylor had approached him with caution, knowing he could blow up by one single action. Though Mac desperately wanted to see some emotion coming from the young man, he did not want to push him.
As the detective dared to turn his head and look at the man, he found the sudden urge to move and he bowed his head, looking down. Mac followed his gaze and watched him hold on the silver bracelet so tight, his knuckles were white.
Holding on to that one thing that linked him to her, had become a habit he couldn't kick. And it had become one he didn't want to kick. He wanted to have her by his side, back in his life, so badly, that the pain it caused was almost unbearable
Mac's voice was softly and gently, caressing his torn heart and comforting his broken soul.
"Reed. I think it's time you came with me."
.
He had wondered for days where she was, hours he spent awake and watching the phone, trying to make it ring and give him the relieving news. He had called all his contacts, asking if they had any, any idea of where she was. He hacked into her laptop after the persons in her contact list couldn't help him further. Finding her, had become his one reason why the world turned.
He would snap at everyone that called him for something different, something else. He would hang up and wait for the person that could tell him where in God's name she was. Mac had finding her turned into his own personal crusade and he refused to sleep much. On and off the clock, he searched for her, hoping to find just one small lead or thing that could ease Reed's mind.
That one small thing led towards something bigger. Something he didn't want to find. Just as Reed wanted to redecorate their apartment in his frustration and anger, the one phone call he didn't wanted arrived. The one with the bad news. He could hear it in Mac's tired and almost broken voice. They had found her.
He cursed her and that stupid IPod. For months he had been telling her not to turn the damn thing on too loud, she wouldn't hear a thing. It was the how they met, as she would teasingly reply while kissing his neck. She bumped into him at the coffee shop while listening to her iPod, she didn't hear him.
He remembered it like yesterday, it was a vivid dream in his foggy mind. When she bumped into him, her eyes went over his body, studying him, observing him, and she wasn't hiding it. He only had to look at her face to know that he fell in love with her right there and then.
She threw him her wicked smile, the smile he would die for to see again, and introduced herself. Just like that. She always was pretty straight-forward and self-conscious. Never afraid to take the wrong step, she faced the world with her head high. Oh, he had loved her so deeply, he felt that now that she was gone, there was nothing left of him. Why did she, of all people, had to go?
He closed his eyes whenever he thought of their last moments. It cut deep through the leftovers of his heart when he remembered the fight he had. A slight feeling of arousal overcame him whenever he thought of how they made it up to each other. Clenching his fists, he just wished everything went differently.
.
A squad car had found her two blocks from their apartment, wearing the clothes she left when she told him she was going to get some smokes. He did always tell her smoking killed. Thirteen hours after they found her, Mac came to their apartment and explained to Reed what happened.
He had sat motion- and emotionless at the kitchen table, holding a glass of water but never drank from it. He watched the colours that the reflection of the glass made in the sun on the cold, plain, white bar he sat behind.
She had left around two AM, placing a last kiss on his lips before heading out the door of her lot, going for smokes. Had he only known it was the last time he would see her, smell her, touch her, kiss her. He would have told her everything; that he loved her with all his heart and that he never wanted her to leave and he would kiss her in the most passionate way that he could. But he didn't know. And now all those things were left unsaid, left undone.
There was a store open twenty-four-seven, just five blocks away. On her way home, she got hit by a red Volvo, she always hated those cars.
What hurt him the most, was that she had been laying there, in the pouring rain and on the cold, dirty streets of an deserted ally for two days. Just laying there, waiting, rotting. He could picture her beautiful face looking up at the sky, smiling. They called it a hit and run.
Reed never understood why. It was more a 'hit and abandon'. 'A hit and lose your humanity'. 'A hit and life-taker'. Poof. Gone was his life. His love. His friend.
Mac didn't tell him, that while her body had laid in a pool of mud, dirt and her own blood, rain pouring down, drowning her body in the absent darkness, she had been alive. Sid had confirmed his concerns as Mac had found her bracelet in her fist. She had laid there in that ally, for two whole hours, slowly dying. And nobody noticed.
.
"Reed. You loved her, it's okay-"
"I don't love her. I hate her."
His words were harsh and cruel, but he wanted to release some of all the mess he was feeling inside. The uncertainty, the tension, the suspense, the relief and then the sorrow and the pain, the guilt and the pain, no tears and no breaking down in front of anybody.
But all he wanted to do was to scream. Screaming at her, trying so hard to reach her but she remained silent and just looked at him from a distance with that stupid smirk on her face. He wanted to scream at Mac, for staying so cool when he didn't believe him that she was gone. He wanted to scream at his parents for being there while he just wanted them to leave him the fuck alone.
He wanted to scream at himself, for being so stupid, for knowing that she would leave him one day, one way or the other. All these emotions he had built up inside his body, in his chest, were poisoning him and troubling his mind. He felt as if he was in a small box and there was no more way out. He fought hard against the walls, scratch marks throughout the box, but he couldn't get out. He was choking, choking on air itself and he didn't want to take another breath.
He just wanted it all to be over.
"I hate her. I hate her and that ridiculous smirk on her face all the time. The way she was always so confident about herself. I hate that she made me feel like she made me feel and that I loved that feeling. I hate-…"
Despite his lack of intentions to move, he had started to shift on the cold, wooden bench, clenching and unclenching his fists.
"I hate that fuckin' IPod of hers, with her stupid taste of music and I hate all the pictures she took, especially the ones that everyone else loved. I hate Volvo's, I hate the rain, I hate everything."
Realization had set in, finally he understood that she was never coming back. Never again would she throw things at his head when they had a fight. Never again would she kiss his neck, her way of saying that she loved him. Never again would she wrap her long legs around his waist when they had sex and never again would she look at him with eyes so vibrant and so transparent, he got scared knowing how much he loved her and seeing in her eyes how much she loved him.
She was the one. And now she was gone.
The agonizing pain ripped through his body and he felt a fist close around his chest – he couldn't breathe. For the first time in someone's presence, Reed led go of his pain and these jagged emotions. His cries broke Mac's heart as the young man slid down the bench, fell on his knees and grabbed his shirt, trying to make the tightness ease. He had become a broken man. Mac slid down next to him and pulled him towards his chest, hoping that one day the pain would ease away. His entire body was shaking and Mac could already feel the tears soak through the jacket of his black suit.
He led out a long and loud scream, a scream of distant failure, distant love and up close and personal distress and aching. He let go of his shirt but grabbed Mac's instead, pulling the older man closer, hanging on to him. With the other hand he covered his mouth. Aching, from the deep inside.
.
Two hours earlier.
"Next, mister Reed Garret would like to say some words."
His legs were shaky and unsteady. His breath was irregular and hasty. His mind hesitated with every step he took. Finally, he reached the podium and took a stand. He opened his letter but he closed it right away and let his eyes and mind wander off to the coffin next to him. He had seen her. And he knew he had been right when he said she was crazy. Even Sid, whom barely knew her, found it remarkable. And only because she died with a smile on her face, everybody who saw her, instantly knew she was the most perfect girl on the world. At least, for Reed she was.
He didn't know for how long he stood there, letting his eyes go over the beautiful white orchids that laid on top of the dark brown, oak coffin. He grabbed a small card from his pocket and shortly looked at it before he turned to the people that anxiously awaited his redeemed words.
And then, he spoke.
"Wet and wily, as in a dream, I dream you veiled in your nakedness, rapt, unfulfilled. What is it, love, but this ethereal nothingness, this nowhere that is no place, this whiteness, without distinction, without bounds? You waited to see whether I would come. I did come. Only you were too far removed from me to notice where I stood, hovering like smoke suspended in this air, aftermath of a gunshot, redolent, glowing, radiant at the moment of my assassination, murdered by love. I love you, I said. I die you. Dream love and it will enchant you. Live love and it will enrapture you in tragic beauty. Speak love and it will dissipate, like smoke."