Saying the Words by chibiness87

Pairing: GSR
Genre: Angst
Length: about 700 words
Spoilers: through 8.07
Disclaimer: No characters or any quotes in this fic belong to me.

A/N: TPTB have broken my muse. This is the latest in a line of fics that have been GSR angst. If someone out there has seen either my GSR fluff/smut muse, can you please let them know I'm looking for them? Thanks to butterfliedgsr for the beta.

AJ: I've gotta tell her how I feel, you know? I've gotta tell her that I, er… well you know, that I er…

Joe: Love her.

AJ: Yeah. Now, how do I do that?

Joe: You say, "I love you." What do you want, written instructions?!

He thought it would be easy, telling Sara how he felt, how he truly felt, about her. People tell each other every day, after all. And not just in real life. Book. Movies. TV shows.

All of them joining in with the millions, if not billions, of people who told someone how they felt.

So it surprised him when he couldn't.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

He knew he loved her. And he was pretty sure she knew he loved her. But there's a big difference between knowing something and having it confirmed.

He had tried, of course, subtly to tell her.

The sonnet in the letter when he was away in Massachusetts.

The quotes he read out to her as they lay relaxing on the sofa.

Hints he could slip into conversations.

Sex without love is meaningless. It makes you said.

Well I'm pretty sure I don't make you said.

No. you make me happy.

But the simplest of words wouldn't come.

In all the years he had known Sara, worked with Sara, loved Sara, he had never been able to say "I love you."

Even when she had been taken and left to die out in the desert.

At least, not to her face.

Apparently, when his brain had shut down and he was filled with utter horror and dread, his uninhibited mouth had let slip to the team that Sara was the only woman he would ever love.

It seemed, ironic, somehow, that they could get the confirmation before she did… after all, they could all tell he was in love with her long before he realised he was.

And when they had found her, and the words still wouldn't come, he had decided to give up on words, and show her though actions.

There is no remedy for love but to love more.

He knew not working with her on cases would be hard. It had been hard all those years ago when he was living in denial of his feelings for her. He had told her to get a life outside of work, and she had.

Just not with him.

And he had punished her for that, the only way he knew how: minimising contact.

He just didn't appreciate that it would mean punishing himself too. Because as much as it hurt to see her happy, or at least apparently happy, with someone else, she was still Sara.

She was still his first thought in the evening and his last thought in the morning… even if he didn't, couldn't, or wouldn't admit it to either of them.

But that was before he had lifted his head out of the microscope (got his head out of his ass) and had asked her to dinner.

And now, 2 years, 2 attempts on her life, attempts on their friends' lives, and 2 shift changes later, he asked her to marry him.

Because he loved her.

And because she was alive.

And because now, now, they could.

The smile she had given him, even after being stung by a bee, had made his heart lift.

The ceremony had been small; so small in fact, not even their friends had attended.

They would have pushed for something big.

Something extravagant.

Something not them.

They had left the justice of the peace's office husband and wife, and yet, even through the vows, promising to spend the rest of their days together, loving one another, until the end of their days, they had not said "I love you."

After all this time, the words seemed superfluous, really.

But now, standing in his office, with a letter in his hand, he wished he had said the words.

Let her know, if only for a second, that he did love her.

Would forever.

But it was too late now.

She was gone.

Love begins with a smile, grows with a kiss, and ends with a teardrop.

Quotes, in order: Empire Records, Browning, Thoreau, Anon