Have you ever met a girl who made you feel like you were floating every time you saw her?
No, that's too simple.
Have you ever met a girl who made you feel like you were about to pass out, throw up, shit your pants, and die all at once?
Well if you have, I feel sorry for you, but if you haven't –
I feel even worse.
You can't wait for that girl to leave, to give you some space to breathe on your own – but the second she's out that door, you're running right out after her.
She's your third arm, and you didn't even realize it, but at least you realized it at some point, right?
You probably moved in together, married her, had kids – did everything the right way.
See, my girl and I, we realized it over and over and over again.
But we never did anything about it.
We were on-again, off-again, everything-in-between-again for years. It was mixed up and twisted, but it was ours and, looking back on it now, it was beautiful.
We thrived in that complicated, screwed up world.
There's nothing quite like the feeling of having your heart ripped out, chewed up, and crammed right back into your chest.
Repeatedly.
Nobody knew about us – we were very careful about that. Coworkers, bosses, friends, family… everyone would've had our heads. We would've been fired, or hollered at, at the very least. The secrecy only made it more exciting.
We'd date other people, her more than me, mainly just to throw people off. She was a lot better at pretending than I ever was.
We'd revenge date – I'd annoy her in some way and she'd have a date with a nerd down the hall the next night.
She was manipulative, but, then again, so was I.
We got into a massive fight once after she'd gone on a date.
It was stereotypical; we were bickering – hollering back and forth about god-knows-what – when I just couldn't hold it in any longer. I ask her why she couldn't see; why she couldn't see what I'd been trying to tell her for years; the three words that had been on the tip of my tongue since the day we met…
So I yelled them at her.
Her eyes grew wide and she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. I was terrified, absolutely frozen in fear, but she let her lip go and the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen lit up her face.
"I love you too," she replied. She flung herself at me and I caught her.
I'd always catch her.
I know it's hard to explain, but, when you've loved a person as long as I've loved my girl, hearing her say she loves you back… it's the greatest feeling in the whole damn world – and both of us were high on it.
It was like we were kids again.
We shared our dreams, our nightmares, our plans for the future.
We even started moving my stuff into her apartment.
Of course we knew that living together would be risky, what with us working together and all, but damn, we didn't care. We were in the honeymoon stage – that wonderful, beautiful honeymoon stage.
We thought it would last forever.
And boy do I wish it had.
We were called away on a job two weeks later. I boarded the plane and left her behind without a second thought. I knew I could call her right when we landed and I knew she'd answer.
But I didn't know the plane would go down.
The last time I saw her, she was wearing pink – my favorite color on her. I kissed her on the cheek and whispered in her ear. She giggled and swatted at my arm with the tiniest wrinkle of her nose.
She had the cutest nose.
We were in the air for ten minutes, fifteen tops, when the plane starts sinking, the pilot hollers something… God, I can't even remember what he said. My friend, his emergency air mask didn't come down, so I stood to mess with it, and that's when we took a nosedive.
I got trapped between something, two of the seats maybe, and one of the computers came loose and whacked into my forehead, knocking me out cold.
The last thing I remember thinking was Let me see my girl again. Please, God, please let me see my girl one last time.
But I never did.
The plane did a few spirals, flying stuff everywhere, apparently my neck was broken.
I didn't feel a thing.
Everyone else lived and the pilot landed safely on the freeway. I was the only fatality.
I'm glad I was the only fatality.
But it would've been better if there were zero.
My girl never knew about the plans I had.
Not about my grandmother's ring sitting in my dresser drawer.
Not about the house I was fixing up for us to live in one day.
Not about the names I'd thought about naming our future kids.
She didn't know about a single plan.
Not one.
And she never would.
Well, that's not true.
She'd find the house. See the plans I'd had.
She'd know it was for us.
She'd find the ring too.
My mom would explain why I had it – why I'd asked for it in the first place.
She wouldn't know about the names, though.
But maybe that was okay. She'd move on with her life and I died knowing that the woman I'd been in love with for years loved me right back, even if I only knew it for a few days.
But there were things I didn't know too.
I didn't know about the positive pregnancy test sitting on our bathroom counter.
My first ever Morgan/Garcia fic - Tell me what you thought!