Disclaimer: I don´t own any familiar character (sadly), but I love to play with them.

This is my first try and English is not my first language, so please bear with me. Thanks to the wonderful Shakespeare's Lemonade, without you I never would be brave enough!

As I entered the house it felt like a ton of emotions came rushing onto me. My heart was heavy and my fingers were trembling, so much that I nearly dropped the keys. It´s been so long, too long, since I've been here last. I've tried to avoid coming back for as long as I could but I knew it was time to stop finding excuses. It was time to come here and time to put an end to the story of my life. There were millions of other places I would have rather been right now but it didn't matter.

I slipped the keys onto the little table when I came into the living area. Taking in the sight made me swallow. It was like a knot in my stomach and I felt the urge to just leave without finishing what I came here for. Quietly and quickly, so no one would ever know I was here. But then I straightened my shoulders, brushed my hair back and let my eyes wander around.

There were thousands of memories linked to this room. I remembered how we were looking for the furniture together on one of the rare occasions when he was home. It´s been me and only me most of the time. Me to buy stuff for the house. Me to decorate everything, making it a cosy home for him. Me to eat dinner alone in a dark house. Me. Me. Me.

I hated being with a guy who was gone for most of the time. Who wouldn´t be there to have normal dates, who wouldn´t give me a ride from work or who wouldn´t share his day with me. He´s never been that kind of guy anyway, but it would have been nice to at least have the chance to do all that with him. Instead I was single even when I was with him. It wasn´t easy, but I knew what I got myself into when I allowed things between us to proceed. He never lied to me and he never dragged me along. He told me right from the beginning who he was and what he was doing, at least as much as he could tell me.

I sighed, feeling tears coming to my eyes. I swallowed the lump in my throat and just wished I didn´t have to be here. But there was no one I could have asked to do this. And it was my duty, my job.

Sliding my purse off my shoulder and leaving it in the living area I slowly made my way to the kitchen, gently touching the table with my fingertips. I remembered our first breakfast here, on a cloudy, windy morning after a night were we had done anything but sleep. I thought I still felt his arms around me as he entered the kitchen, sneaking up behind me and closing his arms around me, pulling me closer. I still felt his nose nuzzle in my hair, his lips pressing against my neck and his deep voice gently whispering, "Good Morning Beautiful."

I closed my eyes and wished I could lean back against his broad chest and still feel his warmth around me. But he wasn´t here. And he would never be here again. I would never again feel or hear or touch or kiss him. I would never see his smile again and that broke my heart. Even though it was something I was getting used to. There were so many memories that broke my heart every day again, over and over. I got the message 8 weeks ago, 8 agonizing long weeks were I still had hope. With every ring of the phone or every knock of the door I thought he might come back.

He was gone on a mission and I never knew where he was or how he was doing. I never knew if he´d come back but as much as I hated it, I loved him more. I wasn´t willing to let him go just because I was a wreck inside as soon as he left. The moments we had together were special and I loved every second of it. And after his second deployment I began to get into a routine. As soon as he had left I would start working as hard as I could, doing overtime and making sure that I stayed busy as much as I could. It didn´t hurt that this also benefited my professional career, but that was just a small comfort when I returned to the empty house every night.

I entered the master bedroom upstairs and just stopped abruptly at the door. How could just one room carry so many emotions and memories? I sucked in my breath but it didn´t help, I already felt tears streaming down my face. Our bed.

I moved closer and gently sat down, my fingers buried in the depth of the soft white silk of the bed. There still was a faint scent of him lingering in here and I couldn´t help but close my eyes and let the memories consume me.

It was like watching a movie where you see a couple fooling around, laughing, giggling, tickling each other until they are drawn to each other by just a look. Where he buries his hands in her dark curls, pulls her closer while looking deep into her eyes, her laughter slowly dying. Where he licks his suddenly dry lips and then leans in to touch her lips softly with his. Where she softly whimpers, her hands sliding to his waist for some strength while her whole body melts into him. Where he kisses her deeper, his eyes closed, his tongue playing with hers and his breath entwines with hers.

I realized my breath wasn´t more than a pant and my fists were nearly ripping the soft silk. My body was tensed and I felt like I just wanted to run. As fast and as far as I could. I wasn´t ready for this. I wasn´t ready to let go yet. I wasn´t ready to say Good-bye and bury all our memories and our past. I felt like abandoning him, betraying him. I couldn´t make this little voice in my head stop, who was telling me that he wasn´t dead. That he´d come back home, come back to me. That he would never leave me alone.

It took every little bit of strength I had left to stand up and open the doors of the drawer. I began taking his clothes out, piece by neatly folded piece and placing them on the bed. Not wanting to feel anything, just keep myself busy by doing God knows what. That is until my fingers touch one of his button-down shirts. I heard a sob escaping my throat and I buried my head in the soft fabric, drinking in his scent. My knees got weak and I felt myself falling. When I hit the floor I just curled up like a fetus, his shirt pressed against my face, swallowing my sobs.

After what felt like an eternity I relaxed and the sobs died. Still I stayed on the floor and relished in the faint scent in the fabric, feeling closer to him. I´ve denied myself all memories up until that moment, when I couldn´t hide anymore. I realized I had to come here as this was the first step on my long journey. I wasn´t ready for the second step yet, not willing to accept the truth. Not yet.

It was dark outside when I eventually got up and stretched my sore muscles. I didn't know what to do or where to start. I felt sore insight, not only physically but emotionally, like my soul was raw and bruised. I couldn´t move on and just remove his clothes and all the things inside our house that still reminded me of him and still kept my hope alive. It felt like if I would remove him off this house, I´d also remove him off my life and off life in general. And I knew I wasn´t ready for that yet.

I left the bedroom and went downstairs again, leaving the kitchen and was standing on the porch, overlooking the ocean in the dim moonlight. The warm breeze tossed my hair and cooled my tear stroked cheeks. He loved being out here, relaxing and enjoying the breeze, the ocean and the silence. We´ve spend countless nights cuddled together in the hammock, looking at the stars. We didn´t need to talk as it was enough just to feel the closeness after the long months apart. His warmth would surround me and I would hear the steady beating of his heart. My fingers would be locked with his and his chin would be resting above my head.

It wasn´t fair. I wasn´t meant to be here alone. He was supposed to be with me, after his last deployment. He should be grilling some steaks on that cold grill over there, smile at me when I come outside with the rest of dinner. He should have one of the ice cold beers in his hand and just look hot and sexy as hell.

My memories took me back to the moment when he came back from the first deployment since we met. I went to pick him up at the harbour, standing there with all the other women and families that were waiting for their loved ones to return. I was so nervous and couldn´t help the big smile on my face. Finally after 10 months I was about to see him again, my heart was nearly bursting with joy.

I didn´t see him right away, too many people were getting in my way. But when the man in front of me finally made a step to the left... there he was. Tall, dark, handsome and sexy as hell in his camouflage and with this little smirk curling around his lips. My heart skipped a beat and only seconds later I walked over to him, slowly, trying to not show how much I just wanted to throw myself in his arms.

When I stood in front of him, close enough to feel his warmth, I lifted my face to him and said, "Welcome home, sailor." He dropped his bag, wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close, nearly crushing me against his strong chest. My arms were wrapped around his waist, our eyes locked and I felt his breath on my face.

"I missed you." Three little words but they held so much emotion and meaning that I had to swallow my tears.

"I know. I missed you too," I whispered before his lips came crashing down on mine. Hot, deep and passionately he kissed me, his tongue diving in my mouth, teasing mine but never giving in. He rarely surrendered and his kisses showed just how much he needed me at this very moment. He´d never admit it but I knew that kissing me for the first time again after a mission was his way to find back to reality and back to the real world.

Standing on the porch I wrapped my arms around myself, desperate to feel his arms around me again. I felt so cold inside and I knew that I should be get used to this feeling. This would be my companion for a long time.

It was late already, I wouldn´t be able to get anything done today anymore. This emotional roller-coaster was something I didn´t expect. When I got the message of him being MIA, I didn´t break down, I didn´t cry. It was like I´d just died inside, stopped existing and just functioned. I called my boss , telling him I´d take all of my holidays right now and that I don´t know when I´d be back. And then I left the house, took just my purse, the keys and one of his shirts and left to stay with my sister. For 8 weeks. I can´t remember what I did during that time but I refused to talk to anyone. I was on the beach a lot, a place where I felt close to him.

But when I woke up this morning I knew I had to come here. I don´t know what it was but I felt like there was nothing more important on this whole planet than coming to our house. I thought that I could already start putting his clothes away and prepare. After 2 months my head told me that it was time to let go, to move on even if my heart still denied the truth. My silly, broken heart still hoped for him to come home.

How many nights did I lie awake, hoping his arms were holding me and his voice was assuring me that things would be alright? God, I can´t remember if there was a single night that I didn´t cry myself to sleep. No matter how often we had spoken about this and how much he had tried to prepare me, I wasn't prepared for the men in uniform at our door. I knew what they would tell me, the look on their face said enough. Blank faces, no emotions and their voices offered no sympathy. I wondered how many doors they had seen opening. How many faces changing from smiling or even laughing to shocked and understanding when people realized what the two men in front of the door meant.

They gave me the official version. That he was missing in action, details to where and when and how were classified. No word if they still tried to find him. Just these words, that shattered my world within seconds. I didn´t wait until they´d finish their little monologue, I just closed the door, moving straight to our bed and wrapping myself in our blanket. I heard their car leave and then nothing. I don´t know how long I sat there, time didn´t matter, nothing mattered anymore. When my sister opened her door to me, she instantly knew. It wasn´t good to stay in my place and to be alone, I needed someone around me, she said. I just followed her, not saying a word.

And here I was now, standing on our porch, listening to the waves rolling on the beach and it just didn´t feel right. The most important thing was missing. Him. And I was forced to face the truth, that he wouldn´t come back. That he wouldn´t wrap his arms around me again, kissing me and telling me that things would be alright. That I would never see his smile again. Never see again the way his eyes would slowly open to me when he would wake up. Feel him close to me, poking my side when he´d try to distract me so he could steal my coffee in the morning.

No matter how hard I tried not to think about his death and about what might have happened, I couldn´t keep these thoughts at bay. They were in my head, haunting me all the time and making me wake up screaming at night. I always thought that grieving and mourning the loss of a loved one was terrible and sad and quiet. But over the last couple of days there was another feeling inside me that I fought to keep at bay. Anger. I was so mad, so angry at him, at the whole situation, that I just wanted to scream.

How dare he leave me here, alone and in pain? I didn´t give a damn about his missions, about his duty, about his responsibility. I felt betrayed too, because I was expecting him to come home to me and instead found two men in uniform telling me he was MIA.

My life would never be the same again. He´s left not only footprints in my life but changed it completely. He was so close to me that it sometimes scared me.

And now I was left behind, left alone without him to protect me. Without his love. How was I suppose to handle that?

I sighed deeply and looked up at the stars. They were shining so brightly and in a strange way, this familiar sight and just the knowledge that they were there was comforting. I knew that he had loved the stars and that being in the Navy, being a SEAL, was his life. He never wanted to be a cop like his dad but still this had influenced him. He was more his father's son that he ever would admit. He needed to do something right, needed to take responsibility and do something good that he believed in.

When I began to shiver despite the warm summer breeze I moved back inside, looking around the house. And I realized I wasn´t ready yet to let go. I wasn´t ready to close that chapter and to bury him without a body. That I wasn´t ready to deny my love, feeling the silent flickering of hope. Not yet.

I picked up my purse and grabbed my keys, turning around and letting my gaze wonder for a second. Taking in so many different memories. I smiled and turned to the door, grabbing the handle and opening the door without hesitation. I came here to let go tonight, but my heart told me that this was not the right moment to say a final goodbye.

When I opened the door, I saw a dark figure outside. And before I could scream or react or do anything, I smelt his scent and then I heard his voice.

"Hey, Beautiful."