I do NOT own anything you recognize. Please read and review.
Because everything belongs to Shane Brennan. Except my OC. =D Thank you to Danielle. You are my savior because you had the plot point. XD
"When you love someone, all your saved-up wishes start coming out..."
Everybody needs somebody. Somebody to tell you that everything's going to be okay; that no matter what, they're not going to turn their back on you and walk away.
Everybody knows that no one lives forever. He probably knows it better then most people.
He once asked her what she would do if he never came back.
She stared at him; her stormy grey eyes told so many stories he was sure he would never be told. She replied with a casual shrug of her shoulder and told him that she wouldn't know; because he always came back for her.
And he knew how very true it was.
They don't know how to label what they have; if they even wanted to do so, they're not too sure if they really wanted too.
She was always there for him; even though, by the time he realized, he wasn't so sure anymore.
He doesn't remember how he got here to begin with; how he got to be this person.
Someone unknown.
He doesn't know how he came to be on her couch, he doesn't even know what time it was. Just that it was dark outside and rain started to fall heavily.
She was on his mind at all hours. Today more then ever.
Today he lost his team member. He feels the tears fall down his cheeks as she pulls him into a hug. Her arms wrapping tightly around his body as he clings on to her with dear life; he felt as if he had let go, he would fall to pieces on the floor.
He told her he was sick of loosing people he cared about. That he was sick of playing savior to so many people, and no one coming to save him.
She replied that she will always be there to save him. Because he had done to same for her so many times.
He told her about the look on his colleagues faces when he told them that their friend, someone who they should have always backed up, had died.
The final words Dom said echoed throughout his head.
I knew you would find me.
Those words forever haunted him. But in the end, they will blur into his mind. Just like everything else did.
Days mix together in his mind. The lines become so blurred that he didn't know what's right and what's wrong anymore.
He was also sure that his eyes were dead to anyone who looked at him.
For him, days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into years. Until, one day, he's not sure what's what anymore.
He believes that not everyone deserves the life he got; and he didn't understand what he had done to deserve it.
Because it was one he hadn't wished on anyone.
He told her about his job; that it was dangerous and that you could get hurt with him around. All she could do was raise a perfectly plucked eyebrow and turn the corner of her apricot colored glossed lip into a small smirk and reply in her usual amused tone that she wasn't going to go anywhere, no matter how hard he tried to push her. And that was something he loved about her. She never pushed him away; while at the same time, she never asked about his job, never asked about his friends. Because she knew that he would tell her these things in his own time.
She was the first girl who wasn't part of an undercover operation who he told his name too. His real name.
Not one he made up on the spot. When he first met her, that's what he was going to do. Thomas Cardew, the same name he used with the guy at the newspaper stand; but he looked at her, and saw the tears on her face and he knew he couldn't pretend he was something he wasn't around her. He couldn't lie.
Not to her.
Never to her.
Ever since he was a child; whether it was from stealing things from the corner shop, or back chatting the foster parents he wanted nothing to do with. He knew that all he was doing was silently pleading, silently screaming out for someone to help him, to notice how he wanted to be normal. To be like the kids he went to school with.
Not having to turn up wearing the same clothes he had been since he was 13. Because the American child care system didn't care.
He knew they didn't.
No matter how much he pretended that he also had two parents who loved him more then anything, to pretend that he had friends, that he was happy; he always had the nagging urge to belong somewhere.
That's why he got into the business that he did; because while he was undercover, he could pretend to be anyone.
He could camouflage himself; turn himself into a successful business man and tell everyone about the private schools he went to; how his father was a highly successful man with people in high places.
And that's why it scared him so much to be around her; because around her, he had to be him.
She could tell when something was wrong, when he wasn't telling her everything. Because she had this look in her eyes; something that made him want to open up to her.
Something he's barely ever done before.
They've never slept together. The closest they have was him on the floor and her on the couch next to him.
They're friends. If that's what he could label them.
Just friends.
She watched him as more tears fell as he explained why he couldn't save him.
He was shot saving his partner.
He looked at her and asked why she was doing this; helping him. Listening to him.
Her eyes narrowed so slightly at him as she reached over and placed her hand on his cheek; telling him that if the shoe was on the other foot, he would do the same for him.
With a small laugh, he looked at her and told her that the only person who would kill someone on her job was if they were caffeine crazed maniac who needed their hit.
She laughed back and told him that it could happen.
Then he told her about the story of his old mentor; Leroy Jethro Gibbs. How he would probably be the one to kill her for the coffee.
He could see the dark colored bags under her eyes and wondered if she ever worried about him. As if reading his mind, she said that she did. That she always worried that he wouldn't knock on her door at some stupid hour to sleep on her couch anymore.
He didn't know that he could become this person; someone who cared about what happens to the people he didn't work with.
Someone who wasn't family.
She asked if he got scared in his line of work, subtly hinting that she didn't know what that was exactly.
He had to think about this; she had once asked about the scars on his body. He couldn't tell her; he already knew that she worried. There was no way that he could tell her that he was shot five times. That he had to listen to his best friend plead for him to live.
He told her that he does get scared; because one day, he may loose someone he cared deeply about.
Sometimes he pretended not to notice the glances she gives him; the glances of longing. He ignored the feeling of his heart and listened to his head; something he's done his whole life.
This was the first time he had stayed in one place more then three months. He felt no need to move. And, if he did move, he wouldn't be able to see her as much as he would like too.
It was still dark when he left her asleep on the couch; he walked down the empty corridor and out onto the beach; his hands in his tanned khaki pants.
He knows that she loves him. He knows that there was every possibility that he felt the same way.
And that's why, as he walked down the empty street. A small smile was gracing his face. Maybe his life of torment and horror was finally letting him have a break.