Lyrics from 'Better Days' by Goo Goo Dolls. Beta'd by delga (thank you!)

I wish everyone was loved tonight
and somehow stop this endless fight;
just a chance that maybe we'll find better days.

His hand rests dangerously close to her shoulder before he pulls it back, instead resting it on the counter and announcing his presence vocally. He's close enough for her to feel his breath on the back of her neck; warm and reassuring, it sends shivers down her spine and she feels like a cliché when she smiles.

The lab is quiet, they're the only two people actually in it: everyone else is either out at a scene or with family and friends; just a call away if something comes up. He smiles at her as she signs her report with a flourish and hands it to him, turning around to face him with a matching grin across her face.

Her smile fades when she sees a computer fruitlessly searching for a positive result in the corner, the search having been running for days with no definitive answer. No end to the case, no justice served, no closure for the family of the victim. He follows her gaze and his own smile drops; she wordlessly tells him she hates this.

He doesn't think he's ever seen this look in her eyes: it's more than confusion, it's more than pain – it's desperation; she's tired, she tells him – sick and tired of having no answer, of serving no justice. It's what she's in this job to do, she tells him, and when she can't do it she feels helpless. She could never be helpless, he informs her, his hand making its way to her shoulder before he can give it a second thought. She leans into his touch without thinking, his skin warm even through her lab coat and suddenly she wonders why she's even wearing it.

The clock on the wall draws ever closer to midnight and a quick glance at the date in the middle tells him it's a Tuesday, thirty-first of December, new year's eve. In six minutes, this year will end and a new one will start. New, he thinks, clean, fresh, change. He thinks of previous years: years with Claire, years before Claire and after Claire, resolutions he made and resolutions he broke, resolutions where he resolved never to make another resolution again. He makes a hasty resolution there and then (here and now – right now, with his hand on her shoulder and desperation in her eyes, the curls in her hair are tired and dropping heavily around her shoulders) to make this year different; to make this new year better, the best yet.

Four minutes to go until the new year falls with fireworks in its midst and his grip on her shoulder tightens, a slight tug to turn her around fully so she's facing him. It's only now he can see her that he realises she's moments away from tears. His hand leaves her shoulder and traces along her jaw, his eyes never leaving hers – unspoken words leaving them in a comfortable silence as the year's last three minutes are forgotten, her senses overwhelmed by his kiss and his hand on her hip beneath the lab coat.

(just a chance that maybe we'll find better days.)