I have lost count of the times you have walked out that door and the terror strikes me that you may never come back. Of how many times you've shown up at my apartment I felt a sickening sense of relief to see you bloodied and scratched when we both know you were working with Dyson.

I just cannot do it anymore. Not after this.

I could have gone on accepting that a part of this relationship was your need for the occasional other. I could have accepted that this was how life would if that life was going include you. That the nights we spent in my bed, barely able to keep from falling on the floor, were worth more to you than a simple affair. That your provocative flirting in the dark corridors of the compound when you there to see the Ash, knowing that he would be lurking, waiting for you to move on, proved something.

I can't now. It's petty, I know. That I would understand on the days when someone had to give what I couldn't didn't mean I had lost anything. They would be meaningless and rare. We both knew it would happen one day. I just hoped that when it did it would be someone else, not him, never him.

After our first night together since, to see you waiting for that kiss, the one I give each time you walk out on me, the one that reminds you of what staying here would mean, what coming back would mean, I panicked. You were walking out on me and I snapped.

I needed to know, to hear it from you. I couldn't bring myself to hope that these weeks had truly changed the outcome, that I had nothing to worry about. No, I needed to know, needed to hear, who I was to you.

I waited for the words that would mean the wolf never share your bed. That untreated internal bleeding had been the cause and not him. There was nothing though. No plea for an understanding, no denial that he meant anything to you, nothing offered in desperation.

It's my fault for stopping you, for not having the strength to take the looks between you two anymore. It was not fair to do this to you, but the temptation became too great. I begged you tell me who you truly loved. I pleaded to know that I had done enough.

It wasn't fair to offer demand such with your feet ready to walk out the door. I had to though, so you could never doubt how true they were. You needed to believe the pain and doubt wasn't because you never loved me, just me giving up on the hope that someday you might truly love me.

The look on your face, the silence on your lips, broke what resistance I had and if I didn't turn away I would have lost the battle to hold you. It must have felt like a betrayal, me asking you this, to make an absolute choice between us, to ask such a selfish question, but I had to know that if he loved you again you wouldn't leave.

You would have never have forced that choice on me. You wouldn't push me away out of fear that the words spoken minutes before, I whispered in your ear, begging you to stay, meant nothing. Your compassion is too great for that.

But I'm tired. I'm tired of worrying that it will happen again. I'm tired of the days spent wondering if he sparks that same light in your eyes. I'm tired of feeling like a whisper kept in the dark when he's around. I'm tired of being tired.

I've begged you stay and now I can't watch you leave. I expected you to open and shut the door. Perhaps offer a last I love you as if they'll be the last words you speak to me and I would know that in your own way you did. A final kindness so that at least I could sleep tonight believing that was true. That at least in my dreams you would still be lying next to me.

Instead there is no sound, no heartbreak, only the press of your lips on mine. I keep my eyes closed as tears the slip, as you say were always mine.

When you pull me up the stairs I have a smile on my face and an assumption in my mind about what is going to happen next. I'm none the wiser as you softly push me to the bed. It's only when your body pulls from mine that confusion sets in.

Somehow you had grabbed your overnight bag and as you set on the dresser I think I stopped breathing. As neatly as you can, which despite the moment makes me laugh, the clothes are transferred into an empty drawer.

What you had worn receives no such care and when what I had on gets tossed the floor I can't help but imagine the mess that will be left waiting us when reality finds us. Yet as you seek out my lips, searching for another kiss, I stop you. This time though there is clear concern in your eyes, but I hold them with mine only until you understand.

I know I can't give everything, to stop the days when for a few moments it will be someone else you turn to, but today I can give this and when just a sliver of life slipped passed my lips, those thoughts are forgotten.


Hopefully if you're reading this note that means you enjoyed the story. Not sure why my first two fan fics in several months are done from an internal first person point of view, but what's done is done. I will be posting more Doccubus fics will be added over the next couple weeks, including at least one new chapter for Delusions of Insignificance and, by popular demand, an epilogue for Promises to see to it that it has a proper ending. Reviews are always appreciated and much loved.