It's not how she thought it would go. not how she played it in her head, Over and over again for the past month when she couldn't think, couldn't breathe from anxiety and terror, pure terror, from just the thought of him walking out that door and never coming back.
They weren't supposed to be at the precinct and he wasn't supposed to be wearing 1870 suit or disgusting (pretty cool actually) make up and she was supposed to hold his hand and look into his eyes and tell him that he's a stupid, stupid man cause she's here, she's his and he's just stupid to ever think otherwise.
And then she was supposed to hug him, and if she can overcome her barriers, kiss him even and then it can all go back to normal. more than normal cause they'd be more now.
So no, it's not how it was supposed to happen, not how she planned it, but it will have to do.
Be enough. For now.
It really is good, great even cause he said he gets it, and she couldn't hope for anything better considering how poor their communication has been lately.
He's been pulling away for weeks and all she did was stand and watch, trying to think of a reason while the obvious solution, the only solution to this mystery was as simple as ask him.
She was ready to believe he gave up on her, that she wasn't enough, that he wanted fun while she's complicated, ready to believe the worst of him but not ready to ask because then she'd know for sure and if she's oblivious, she can still hope.
She wonders what she would have done if he didn't said anything, didn't given her this opening and instead said goodbye and walk away. Would she let him go or maybe do it herself? Push him into interrogation room 1 and make him talk.
She wants to believe it's the second option but mostly she's just relieved and grateful, so very grateful that she'd never have to find out.
She wish she'd said more though, wish she told him how hard it was for her to just breathe through all the pain and confusion that followed that day, how she couldn't leave the house cause she was so terrified, how she hated herself, hated that she was too weak, too slow, too fragile.
Told him how much she missed him, craved for him to not be so damn stubborn and come find her, and since when does he listen to her any way?
Tell him she couldn't accept all that happened that day, couldn't accept those 3 words but she treasured them, kept them in the safest place in her broken heart and they've been growing there ever since, growing stronger and helping her heart grow stronger too.
Because once she started, once she manage to break a hole in the wall, a crack in the door, a leak in the dam or any other allegory you choose, she didn't want to stop.
It felts so damn good to let it out, to let him in and she couldn't for the life of her remember how it felt before, the feeling was so liberating, so purifying that it washed everything else away.
And she can so easily get addicted to it that.
But she's also well aware that it's not them, not how they do things. They are all about subtext and between the lines, just under the surface with a bit of a crooked smile and a passionate look.
It's who they are, and they make it work. Most of the times.
Only she wishes just this once that they weren't.
They came so close to having everything and then too close to losing it all she can't leave anything for chance, can't take the risk of another misunderstanding that would lead to a disaster.
She really can't cause her heart won't survive it.
No more. It can take no more.
And yet, he said tomorrow right? So maybe she's just over thinking it, he said he got it and then he said tomorrow so maybe she did good after all.
He got it, and he'll be back tomorrow.
