Authors note: This one I is really, really short. 655 words. Takes place sometime near the end of season 6 or beginning of season 7, I guess. Not a post-ep for anything. The sentences in italics are lyrics to the song "Dancing Nancies" by The Dave Matthews Band. Please review, I can't know how bad it is unless you tell me.
Disclaimer: The show belongs to Dick, the song belongs to Dave, and I'm a slave to copyright laws.
At one time, they were perfect.
At one time, she could look into his eyes and see herself reflected in them. They could have a conversation without words; a lifetime of understanding could pass between them with one glance. Some inexplicable force connected their hearts and souls, binding them together for all of eternity.
At one time, they were the personification of what partners were supposed to be.
Such a shame to throw it all away.
"Elliot." He heard her. He had heard her walk into the crib, he knew it was her without turning around, before she even spoke. They were still connected. He knew it was her, but he didn't respond.
He was playing a game.
"Elliot." She repeated. Her voice was laced with a mixture of anticipation and anger, wishing he'd answer her, angry that he didn't, hurt that she was being pushed away.
She was tired of these games.
"Why are you here?" His voice was bitter, and he refused to look at her. Refused to turn around. Some partner he was. How long ago was it that they were perfect?
"Because I was worried. You should be at home, Elliot." He could hear her coming towards him, but still he wouldn't turn around. He was a stubborn ass. He was a baby. He was playing a game.
Cat and mouse.
"I don't want to go home. There's no one to go home to. Why shouldn't I just stay here?" She hated what he had become. She hated that the ties binding them were growing weaker with every passing day. She hated playing games; she hated being a cat to his mouse, chasing him day in and day out.
Chasing him in circles.
"I'm not going to pretend that I know how you feel, or that I understand what you're going through. But that doesn't mean you have to shut me out. Or the rest of the world, for that matter." It sounded lame, and she knew it, but what else was there to say? What else could she say to the back of his head?
How long would they play this game?
The images grow darker still.
"Well what do you expect me to do?" He snapped so loudly that she jumped out of her skin. "Come running to you crying? You don't know anything!" He spun around, and their eyes met for the first time, blue on brown, emotions clashing, a war of no words beginning and ending in that one moment. Then he saw the hurt in her eyes. The tears she was trying to blink back to no avail.
The game had turned dark.
"I'm sorry you feel that way," she whispered. She couldn't decide if she wanted to kill him or hug him, yell at him or comfort him, laugh or cry. So instead she did nothing. She turned around slowly and walked toward the door.
"Liv," he put his had on her shoulder to stop her. The last thing he wanted to do now was lose the one person he had left. She turned to look at him, and a solitary tear ran down her cheek as she saw that he too had tears in his eyes.
She had caught the mouse.
He wanted to tell her everything that happened in the last few months, he wanted to pour his emotions out all over her, and for her to clean up the soppy mess. He wanted her to tell him jokes, he wanted to talk about mindless things like the weather, and forget any of this ever happened. Instead, all he could say was "I'm sorry."
It was all he needed to say.
She could hear his life story in those two words. They were still connected. That bond could never break, no matter how many games they played, no matter how many circles she chased him in.
Turn, turn, we almost become dizzy.