Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Spoilers: 1x13 Misssing, 1x15 The Bank Job.
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Based off of the song Hear You Me by Jimmy Eat World
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She doesn't know why, but hearing the harmonica is what finally sets her off.
After everything that's happened in the past month, the familiar, buzzing notes are what send her over the edge. And she has to do something; she can't just sit there, pretending she doesn't hear the harmonica. So she storms upstairs, anger keeping her moving. And it's not just anger that someone she trusts would steal – secret borrowing, she corrects herself – something that normally would be trivial. It's anger for her father – she still doesn't know what happened to him, for Dom – he shouldn't have disappeared off the face of the earth, for G – he finally finds his little sister and she's killed. So the anger propels her forward, up the stairs, and with each step she wants to scream, to rip her hair out, to just explode, but she doesn't because she doesn't want to seem insane.
She finds the perpetrator and she sees the fear glint in his eyes as he tries to explain what he is doing. She won't have any of it. She takes the harmonica back, and leans on the windowsill.
She doesn't know what happens, but suddenly she can't stop talking as she tells him about her father. And Titanic. It seems strange that she, of all people, still loves one of the most romantic movies of all time. And she finishes her story, listens to his comments, responds, and walks away, the anger in her footsteps replaced with a 13-year-old grief.
She puts a sign on the box, a warning, and hopes that people will pay attention to it. "Do Not Touch – This Means You!" should get the message across. She makes sure the harmonica is safe before going off on a quest for coffee. Coffee is going to lead to her death one of these days; that, or breakfast burritos.
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That night, only a minute after getting home, she finally explodes.
Wordless cries lead to her picking up a plate that she has no use for and throwing it against the wall. It shatters on impact, and suddenly she wants everything destroyed. It is the shattering porcelain that causes her to finally lose control.
She doesn't hear the door open, as she is too busy attacking her kitchen cabinets, but he grabs her wrists, preventing her further destruction of the dishes in her home. Instinctively, she fights, but it's a losing battle.
Breathing heavily, she lowers her arms. Says something about the Lakers game. He points out that it's midnight, that someone's going to call the cops if she doesn't stop her tantrum, and that her hands are bleeding.
She gives up. She turns around, leaning against him, and lets the grief take over.
He doesn't say a thing. He rarely does.
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She calls in sick the next morning. She can't be around anyone. Besides, her hands look like she was attacked with a can opener, her head hurts, and she has three very painful bruises on her abdomen.
He promises to bring her coffee.
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A/N: This is what I do during poetry class. Review?