AN: I just needed to get this out of my system and it might stay a one-shot (not sure yet). I don't have a beta and it's been years since I wrote a fanfic so apologies for crappy quality.
It starts with a knock on the door and a pizza box.
The first time he comes over is about two days after Sophia's released from the hospital. He finds her on the living room's couch wrapped in fluffy blankets, surrounded by abnormal amount of pillows with Connor dutifully by her side. He has genuine questions to ask and nobody finds it odd that he's there. She's patient and understanding, and he hates it. No, she doesn't know where Lindy went to. No, she hasn't contacted her since "you-know-what". She refuses to call it anything else. Almost dying from a stab wound gives her the right to say pretty much anything at the moment, so no one questions her choice of words. And it's not like any of them calls it for what it really was. George refuses to even mention it. Connor calls it "the incident". Tommy calls it "the day we closed the case". Ultimately the visit turns out to be pointless and he leaves disappointed and tired, promising himself not to bother any of them again.
He doesn't stick to that promise. Wondering what the hell he's actually doing, he finds himself once again outside their apartment, a six pack in one hand and a pizza in the other. It's been a week since his last visit. He sits awkwardly on the couch, squished between DVD boxes, a bowl of popcorn and a slightly confused George. He can hear Sophia and Connor talking in the kitchen but he has no explanations to offer; he's just as surprised by all of this as they are.
"Why is he here? Are we now hanging out with him too?" Connor isn't exactly discreet.
Tommy knows Sophia is trying to shush him and he feels his heart skip a beat when he finally hears her reply.
"He misses her, ok? Play nice".
He doesn't really care what is said afterwards. Connor's probably rightfully protesting ("It's not our job to babysit her... whatever the hell he was to her"), George is trying to make it less awkward by babbling really loudly and he feels trapped by his own decision. Leaving now would be too dramatic for his taste and would only prove how right Sophia is. Let's face it, he's not ready to admit it to himself. So he opens a bottle of beer and absent-mindedly checks the DVDs. They decide on watching something silly and while there's a certain easiness to their companionship, he stays silent the whole evening. He leaves shortly after the movie and he can almost hear their joint sigh of relief.
When he comes back the week after nobody seems surprised anymore. He decides it makes the situation even worse now. He can deal with people's annoyance or the general weirdness but he doesn't know how to handle their collective look of pity. He does know he's being pathetic. They're her friends. He's in her world. He surrounds himself with her things trying to keep up the illusion that there's still a trace of her in his life. He's desperate and he knows it. And what's worse, they know it too. Sophia pretends not to notice his quick glances at Lindy's bedroom door (She's not there, you idiot. She won't magically appear just because you want her to). George doesn't mention work or the good ol' hacking days and Connor sticks to somewhat neutral conversations ("What's with the leather jackets? Do you even own other clothes?") after a few unfortunate comments earn him a temporary ban from Sophia.
By the end of the second month it becomes a weekly routine. He drops by with a take-out and alcohol, stays a few hours and goes home. Yeager comes with him a couple of times and Connor brings a new boyfriend once. Sophia complains about the lack of bigger, better parties and George regularly pesters them about going out to "dance the night away" but mostly it ends up with the four of them staying in for a quiet dinner. It feels easy and comforting. He has his spot on the couch and he knows what to say to shut George up and what wine to bring over when Connor texts him that Sophia's in a bad mood. He fits in this world now. Nobody mentions Lindy and sometimes he wonders if it's because of him or if they genuinely try to move on.
The moment Sophia says her name out loud hits him like a lightning. It's like a forgotten sound suddenly brought back to life and for a moment he just stares at her, unable to process what she said.
"Are you listening to me, Tommy? I'm worried about Lindy".
"I'm sure she's ok," he replies automatically. He's got that phrase memorised for such occasions. Practised it so many times in hope one day he'd actually believe it.
"I know, I didn't mean it like that. I'm just worried she's not coming back to New York," Sophia says tentatively like she's afraid his entire world will turn into ruins just by hearing these words.
He nods in silence, suddenly feeling exhausted. He no longer wants to be here, in this apartment, in this living room, having this conversation but Sophia doesn't seem to be done yet.
"It's been 3 months already," she continues. "I don't know how much longer I can keep paying for this place without getting a new roommate."
He feels sick, suffocating with every word she says.
"What about her things? I don't know where to ship them. Should I store them somewhere?" Her voice is slightly trembling now.
"Sophia," he interrupts. "I don't... I mean..."
He doesn't know what to say. He looks at her pleadingly because there's no way he can admit out loud that Lindy never coming back is his biggest fear. That it keeps him up at night. That he's so close to losing his badge and his sanity because he spends his every waking moment trying to find her. He's not ready; he's not ready to let her go. (I will never stop looking for you).
She fixes a knowing gaze on him and just like that the conversation is over.
They never mention it again.
He's pouring Sophia a glass of wine while trying to keep up with George's seemingly endless story ("You're gonna love this one, Tommy boy!") when he hears a knock on the door.
"Tell Connor I'm still mad about Saturday!" Sophia shouts from her room, "I haven't decided if he's still invited tonight!"
George stifles a laugh and points at Tommy.
"You're the brave cop. You do it."
It's not the first time he's been in this situation and he knows exactly how it'll go. He shakes his head and gets up from the kitchen chair. The knocking is a bit louder and insistent now. He hears George laughing behind his back and Sophia reciting a string of threats when he opens the door.
It's not Connor.
She stands there with a small duffle bag and a surprised expression probably matching the one on his face. Her hair is longer now, messed by the windy New York evening and he's sure she never looked more beautiful.
It's not what he imagined and everything he hoped for at the same time. It's too little and too much. He wants to hug her and kiss her. He wants to shout at her and ask her a million questions. Where were you? What happened? Why did you never contact me? Am I forgiven? He wants to beg her never to leave him like that again. Don't go. Stay. Let me help you. Please. (Love me back). He doesn't know which reaction to choose, which words to say. They both stand there speechless for a moment until he leans against the door frame and crosses his arms.
"Hello, Lindy," he says quietly.
She smiles at him.