McCord brings her the bad news. McCord, whose blue eyes have softened in the wake of their discoveries, McCord, who is looking at her with a combination of pity and pain. She shrugs off the look. She can't afford to be the recipient of pity right now. That is not who she is. That is not who they are.
"Tell me." Her words are cool. Clipped. Emotions under lock and key.
"The tests came back positive. He's been…infected."
"How long?"
"Less than a day." She can't help the sharp intake of breath at that. She doesn't look at her new partner, but instead stares steadily at the investigation board they've built up, all new pieces of data falling into place without a hint of a solution. Here's another, one that stabs an icicle through her heart.
"And no more leads?"
"We're doing everything we can." That rote answer feels like ash in her mouth.
"I know."
"It isn't…contagious." McCord's voice is soft. Sympathetic. "If you want, I could go in there and break the news to him."
"No." Her tone brooks no argument. She will do this. They will share this burden together, as they had done before. As he had helped her when she had stood all day on a bomb, so she would help him through this.
There is no doubt, none at all, in her mind that they'll get through this. She will not entertain for a second the thought that her happiness will be snatched from her now. They've fought long and hard to get here, past snipers, gunmen, serial killers and terrorists. Past boyfriends, ex-wives, communication mishaps and soul-wrenching arguments.
She's spent four years at his side but unable to stretch out and take his hand.
Another year together, but just enjoyed in the moment, in the here-and-now of their love, hiding from her work, careful whispers around friends and family but with few thoughts of future. Few thoughts of her life with him, them together stretching out, years and decades into the future.
All that had changed that day at the swings two months ago, when her heart had skittered around and her spine gone cold as he first seemed to be paving the way for a break-up, only to pull a 180 on her emotions and propose. It had been a heady few weeks between arranging her move to DC, saying her goodbyes to the 12th and his own work commitments with promoting Deadly Heat, but she'd finally allowed herself to imagine a future. With him. Her fiancé. Her one-and-done.
She imagined a small, intimate wedding, her father walking her down the aisle. Alexis serving as an unconventional but utterly appropriate best man, Lanie as her maid of honour. Maybe at his Hamptons house, maybe in a small chapel somewhere in New York. She imagined coming home from a tough day at work to him cooking dinner and serving her a glass of red, and Sunday brunches with coffee and…
A tall, slender girl with his overactive writer's imagination and her rebellious streak. Her dark, slightly curly hair and his blue eyes. Maybe a younger boy, with his charm and tendency to jump feet-first into life and her single-minded drive to finish things she starts. Her green-hazel eyes and his muscular, broad-shouldered build.
That is the future she has allowed herself to imagine for herself now, empowered by the ring that hangs around her neck, and she'll be damned if she's going to allow it to be stolen from her.
She squares her shoulders, takes a deep breath and strides towards the interview room where he's waiting. She will be strong for him. They will beat this. Together.
Just a one-shot idea that wouldn't leave me alone after the ep. Let me know what you thought.
