A/N: I own nothing. Shonda Rhimes owns everything. This is just a short little piece about how Charlotte feels. Post attack. Review!
I'm sitting on the couch staring at the television, but I'm not even sure what's on. Maybe the news or a soap opera or something like that, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter because every second I know that he isn't watching me, I'm watching Cooper.
He's cleaning, organizing, keeping himself busy. He's doing this because he's Cooper. It's what Cooper does. It's how he deals with this.
I wish that he would do what I really need him to, but he won't. He can't. I understand. Cooper won't touch me because of what happened. He won't touch me because all he can think about is the fact that someone, not him, was inside of me. I need him to hold me, and kiss me, and make love to me. But he can't. He won't.
I shouldn't push him. He needs time, just like me. I need to feel his touch though, so that I can at least pretend that he has the power to erase what has happened. Cooper won't pretend. He feels bad enough for not being there. I know it's not his fault. He doesn't. And he won't pretend that he can erase.
He won't pretend that this will ever go away.