A short song fiction wrote for the tumblr: rizzles-songfiction(dottumblrdotcom) and edited by maxxxie74(dottumblrdotcom).Oh god, she did more than to correct my mistakes. She added comments every edits and that helped me a lot! Thank you so much, mate. Second attempt to directly write in english...

Song: The Man Who Can't Be Moved by The Script

Also inspired by Janet Tamaro recent tweet: " SashaAlexander1 I have a surprise in store for you for Season4 Think you will like: someone we love to hate/love returns."

He did it. Dr Ian Faulkner. He finally opened his eyes and he saw what he was missing. I still don't know why, I still don't know how, but this time when he came back, I knew deep down it would be different. I remember the way she started to act differently again; her eyes not instantly connecting with mine every time I looked at her, instead staying stuck to her phone. I remember her huge smiles every time she read one of his texts, opened one of his gifts or simply when she thought about him. What is harder to remember is her behaviour when she finally told me.

She did it during one of our last sleepovers, biting her lips nervously and looking at me with her pyppy-dog eyes. "He said he was tired of running everywhere in Africa. He said there are a lot of people in need in our country and he could be as useful here. He promised to stay this time and he wants us to have a family. You know my job is my life, but you showed me so much more Jane. What you have with your mother, your brothers... I think I'm ready for all of this."

Those were her words. Each one of them hit me like a hammer but I did my best to act casually. I congratulated her, I laughed and I told her to be careful with Ian's gorgeous DNA. With all this time spent in Africa, she certainly must do a color ultrasound before giving birth to a Faulkner. A terrible joke, isn't it?

Things went fast after that night. A month later, they moved to Cambridge because one of his friends offered him a job in a charity organization; I still don't know which one. An old man who spits every time he talks became our new Medical Examiner. Worse, I lost my best friend physically and emotionally.

Here I am on this colder winter day, chewing over old memories while I'm blowing steam off my hot coffee and standing in front of a hot-dog stand. I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. "Sorry, I'm stuck in traffic but I will be there soon."

I haven't seen her for almost a year and that's my fault. She called often, texted me a bunch of pictures of her new life, but all I did in response was to hide myself deeper in my thick shell. I was so sad to lose what we had. I preferred to forget everything. My phone vibrated again. "I am near The Dirty Robber, meet me there?"

I throw my cup in the nearest trash can and I start to walk, hands in my pockets. Once I reach the bar, I open the door and I take a look around the room. There she is, seated in a booth close to the window. She sits quietly, her chin in the palm of her hand, her fingers caressing her lips. She seems deeply lost in her usual complicated thoughts as she watches people passing by.

When she finally sees me, her beautiful face lights up with a huge smile. She stands to greet me.

That's when I see it and I immediately stop paralyzed. She's still thin, but her top is tight under her open cardigan because of her bigger belly. She freezes too, her expression anxious. I'm sure my face is pale, and my jaw might have dropped to the floor, like in a cartoon.

I swallow hard, I take a deep breath and I switch my surprised face to a weak smile. I close the distance and put an arm around her, careful not to press her body. "It's good to see you, Maura." Of course, she's not tricked by my fake delight and she grips my arm before she sits again. I sit across from her and bring my cold hands to my mouth to warm them. I can't read a single emotion on her face. She's just staring at me with her beautiful eyes and waiting for me to talk.

What should I say? Her hair is a bit longer, her make-up is lighter, her left hand is wearing a ring and there's a Faulkner growing inside her... I can only blame myself. If only I'd done it, if only I opened my eyes and saw what I was missing.