Hey all! So, with my similarities to Maggie and my own less than stellar memories, I have noticed that I can kinda work through my own shiitake through writing (AKA my story The Burning Door). I had to write this to get myself through a loss I experienced on the job. don't worry, things are changed, this isn't a real case.
If this upsets you, or if you ever need it. Please text "Start" to 741-741. It is a Crisis Text Line with trained counselors who will listen and try to help 24/7. It's truly a life saver. Stay safe.
She knew what to do. She did what she could. If only the words helped, if only the words could rewind, if only the words could fix this.
"You tried, Maggie. We all tried." Her partner's voice fills their squad car as he drives shakily from the scene. His words hang heavy in the air as the feeling of loss, of failure, clinging to them both.
And yes, they did try. She knows that. She does, but…that doesn't change anything.
That doesn't help anything.
That doesn't fix anything.
There will still be an empty bed somewhere in the city. There will still be calls to parents, calls to relatives, and tears, God, so many tears.
Maybe they did try their best, maybe so, but their best wasn't good enough.
Not this time.
City lights echo inside the car as they make their way back to the station. The radio blares on as if a life hadn't been lost, as if everything was the same. Nick stays silent, no doubt his own mind stumbling over the events of the last hour.
Closing her eyes, Maggie can almost feel the wind as it was then, as it brought redness to her face and chills to her body. Can almost feel the small stings as her wind whipped hair assaulted her face. Could almost smell the salty breeze as it picked up the scent from the water below.
Within a moment, she's there.
There on the bridge.
There with the lights, with the sound of storm-caused choppy waters, with the man.
Nick at her side they made their way from the car to the side of the bridge, leaving a bubble of distance between them and the man lost in his mind. Lost in his pain.
"Hey, buddy, I'm Maggie, this is Nick." She introduces, voice calm even as she works to speak over the heavy winds
The man doesn't react to her voice, not vocally, not quickly. Almost as if his he's already in the water, movements slowed by his thoughts. "I-" A pause, before he coughs. "You can't stop me." No sadness, no heartbreak, only acceptance, only determination, coat his words.
"Can you tell us your name?" Nick tries, eyes kind as he takes a slow step toward the man as their eyes meet
The man steps back at his advance, foot bumping against the cement guard of the bridge. Instantly, they stop. Hands rising in a clear surrender of control, Nick and Maggie shift back a bit letting out silent breaths as the man moves back to his original place, inches further from the edge.
"It won't work."
"What won't work?" Maggie asks, lowering her hands
"You, you'll try to help. But it won't, you can't, it can't be helped."
"What is troubling you tonight, sir?"
They watch as the man turns back around eyes focused on the distant water.
"Sir?"
A sudden shift and Maggie's eyes meet his own.
What she sees when their eyes meet, what she sees snaps her back. Back to the car, back to the present.
The memory still clinging for control, she finds herself blinking quickly attempting to focus on the endless array of traffic lights before her, on the warmth of the air coming from the vents, on Nick's forced singing. On anything but the nagging feeling, the memories both of tonight and years ago fighting for control of her mind.
She'd seen those eyes before. The looks of defeat, of accepting, of the end…she's seen them far too many times. In the eyes of people before their arrest, before they jump, before they…
She's seen those eyes before, but not just in others. She's seen those eyes in the mirror, far too many times.
The words of her family ricocheting through her mind, those eyes had stared back at her. She'd clutch the sink, her grip tight as if the sting of it, as if the whiteness coloring her knuckles, would keep her together. Would keep her alive.
She saw it in her eyes almost every day until she realized she could escape. The day she realized she could be something, be someone, work hard and make her own life? That day she finally saw those eyes clear.
The clouds still come, and some days they rain down.
But, they clear.
They clear and life goes on.
They clear and she lives to laugh, she lives to smile, she lives to lose another round of pool, pet another dog, read another book (which she totally guesses the twist in, no matter what Alex says).
Because, she still has a life, she still has a chance, she still has tomorrows, and next week's, and…and he doesn't.
A breath.
She tried her best, they tried their best. But it doesn't help, it didn't help.
Once the engine is cut, she puts a hand of understanding on Nick's arm, her own hurt reflected in his eyes.
"See you tomorrow?" The 'we'll be okay, I've got you,' silent but resounding
A few nods and he's mustering up a smile.
"Bright and early!"
The drive home is a blur, the thoughts are pushed back as her engine revs, pushed back as the speed increases and distance shortens. Within minutes, she's softly opening the door, careful not to let it squeak as she does.
Keeping the lights off in an effort to not wake Alex, she shrugs off her coat in near silence, toeing her shoes off much the same.
Her mind debates if a tumbler of scotch or settling into bed, and pulling her sleeping wife to her, would be the best next move. Her shaking hands lead her to the direction of the kitchen, a glass of water her goal.
Before she can get more than four steps toward the room, she notices moonlight lighting the features of the woman bundled on their couch. Feeling a breath leave her as she takes in the woman, she finds herself mimicking Alex's soft snores of breath. Within moments her breathing has calmed fully, heart and shaky hands following at their own pace.
A particularly loud snore has Alex grumbling in her sleep, Maggie almost catches the chuckle as it falls from her lips. Of course, she'd wake herself up.
"Mags?" Alex's sleepy voice questions, blinking as her tired eyes adjust to the darkened room
"Yeah, just got home, babe." She replies, the water forgotten as she makes her way to her wife's side
"You okay?"
Maggie can't answer, the lie cuts her throat, but she can't talk about it, not right now. She needs something to be sacred, something to not be filled with the scene, not tonight.
"I'll tell you in the morning." She says instead, forcing a half smile as Alex's eyes study her
Alex swallows, soft eyes and nod her response.
Arm reaching out, Maggie helps Alex up and into a soft and comforting kiss.
Their bed is warm and soft. Wrapped up in Alex's arms, the pain falls away. Not fully. Not forever. Just for this moment, just for the night. Tomorrow she'll explain, tomorrow she'll cry, tomorrow she'll feel, but…she has a tomorrow and she'll use it.