Shots
By: Lijep
A/N: If "Borderline" has to be angst, I have to get in my angst groove. This is me getting into my angst groove. Dedicated to Krystal, because, well, she's awesome.
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It's late, but it's early. The sky has turned from an inky black to a navy blue, and you know that it's not much longer until the sun comes up. It's been a week to forget, though you believed it would be a week to remember. The biggest trial of your career was approaching, but you blew it on a small piece of evidence being thrown out. And now, you're sitting alone in your apartment with a shot glass and a bottle of vodka, wishing it all would go away.
You down number one effortlessly, issuing a toast. "To justice," you mutter, knocking back the vodka, the burn in your throat satisfying and familiar. The justice was not served in this case, and you knew it. But you made a mistake, and the lack of justice was caused by you. A tear hits your table as you pick up the vodka bottle once again. Your second toast is for her.
"To Olivia," you mutter it quieter than the first one, as though you are terrified that someone will hear you. The secret relationship you share with the detective is one that allows you a certain amount of pleasure, but it also causes you an equal amount of pain. You remember her words: "If love didn't hurt like hell, how could it ever feel good?" You know she speaks of the truth, but you hate that it has to be so. You want the delirious happiness that the couples walking through Central Park seem to possess. You don't want to cry anymore.
Your third shot, coincidentally, your final shot, because you have been drinking all night, is for someone you don't love or trust, at least not anymore. You know her all too well, because she is who you see when you look in the mirror. So, for this, you fill the glass a little higher, and when you lift it, a drop or two sloshes out of the vessel. You raise the glass to the empty room, and knock the shot back like a seasoned alcoholic. Through the burning sensation in your throat, you whisper your final toast as the tears spill down your cheeks:
"And here's to you, Casey Novak."
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END
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