Written for the Angst vs. Schmoop Challenge at Numb3rsWriteOff on LJ and a sequel to "The Last Goodbye". Most of the angst involved was on my side though, since writing is a little... difficult these days.

Final Legacy

by Jules

It was birdsong outside her bedroom window that woke her up instead of her alarm and for a short moment, Robin Brooks listened to nature while her body slowly became awake. Then, memory set in, slammed into her like a ton of bricks and the beginning smile died on her lips.

God.

She'd always cherished those first few moments of waking, the seconds during which everything still seemed bright and new until everyday routine took over. She still did. It was the recurring moment of realization that she hated now, loathed with every fiber of her being. So much that she sometimes thought she could feel the pain physically.

Robin Brooks had been fortunate in life. While her profession brought her close to death and violence and destruction, she never had to suffer through personal grief herself. Both her parents were still alive, as well as both her sets of grandparents. Maybe that was why this was so hard.

It had been nearly three weeks ago when her cell had gone off in the middle of the night and Megan Reeves had told her in a very controlled voice to come down to UCLA Medical Center, relaying the news that Don had been shot. She remembered those hours in the ER, when they were all waiting on news and how Alan had simply pulled her close when the family was allowed to go see Don, not voicing what he obviously felt; she was family by now.

And she remembered how the brutally clear light in Don's cubicle and the feel of his cold skin under her touch had made her realize that this wasn't Don anymore, just a lifeless shell, no matter what the monitors by his bedside displayed. He was gone already. His death a few hours later had felt like release, but she'd been living in a waking nightmare ever since.

With a sigh, Robin climbed out of her bed and padded over to the bathroom. There was no sense really in clinging to the past. She could not change it and she was sure Don wouldn't have wanted her to not move on. If only the emptiness he'd left behind wouldn't have been this big.

This house was so awfully big. Back when she'd bought it, it wasn't only a good deal, but she'd envisioned herself here enjoying her time off, maintaining the back garden on the weekends, finding a refuge from her stressful job. But in the end, time off had proven to be scarce bordering on nonexistent and after a two hour commute, most nights she just crawled into bed, simply too tired to enjoy the beauty.

The long commute had been one reason while she'd slept over so often at Don's place, the sheer practicality of being closer to her workplace winning over the reclusion her house in the valley offered. Not to mention that she loved Don's apartment; as small as it was, it had this comfortable, homey feel she never could project into her own home, no matter how hard she tried. And of course not being alone, having someone you loved near you, feeling a body beside you.

Robin left the bathroom door ajar and pulled the shower stall open, hoping that the hot water would chase away her demons. She switched the water on and turned around, catching a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror. She wasn't really sure she recognized the sallowed-faced woman staring back. The dark rings around her eyes had reached gigantic proportions and she knew that while she was sleeping every night, she just wasn't sleeping well, haunted by recurring dreams and restlessness. God, she really wasn't feeling herself ever since that night.

It was grief, yes. But also something else, something much more internal and personal, that was nagging at her. She felt her eyes starting to sting and resolutely pulled her nightie over her head and stepped under the hot spray. It felt almost scalding for a moment, but she relished in the heat that relaxed her muscles, taking away some of that stress. But not all of it.

Grief and sorrow were the obvious and understandable emotions to acknowledge, but the prevalent feeling, as hard as it was to admit, was self-hatred. Loathe for running away when she did, for bolting when it became harder to breathe, when Don's love was beginning to suffocate her. Robin had been in a few relationships before Don, and some of them could have even been considered serious. But never before had she ever felt the need to run. Love had wilted, lives had developed into different directions. She knew that feeling, when you woke up beside someone and realized from the bottom of your heart that it was time to move on.

Waking up beside Don had been different on every level. He wasn't clinging, but his love had always been so absolute, so all-encompassing. Robin had never been prone to jealousy, but she realized very early on that it would never be an issue with Don. And that's why she had to break it then. She was a coward, she knew it now. Too afraid of being loved without limitations, too scared of the commitment she herself might have to put in to reciprocate. Frightened, deep down inside, that it might not be enough, that it might never be enough.

But a year later, when she'd given their relationship a second shot, she had already realized what a fool she had been. They'd fallen back into an easy and companionable rhythm so effortlessly, almost as if those twelve months of separation had never been. But they were there and many nights when she lay awake beside a sleeping Don, she thought about the hurt she had caused. About how their love would have developed much further if they'd had that extra year.

Robin rubbed at her eyes, knowing full well it wasn't just water clinging to her lashes. It was time to pull herself together or she never would get running. She rinsed her hair and opened the shower stall to reach for her towel. She still had ample time, but she knew already that she would forgo breakfast again. Eating in the morning held little appeal these days, she would grab something during her lunch hour. Maybe a little tea to calm her nerves and her infinitely upset stomach.

She stepped in front of the sink and opened the bathroom cabinet for her toothbrush, but when her eyes fell on the box tucked away on the second shelf, suddenly her breath caught in her chest and she felt a shiver run through her as she did the math. It couldn't be, could it? Life couldn't really be this cruel.

Trying to contain her panic, she stepped over into her bedroom and rummaged through her vanity, hoping the pack she had stashed here so long ago was still within its expiration date. She had to know, even though she had no idea how she would continue if the result really was what she feared it would be.

Moving back into bathroom, she went through the necessary motions and settled herself on the closed toilet seat. Now all she had to do was wait.

Oh, God.

Could she really go through this? Could any woman, really, without losing their mind? Robin was filled with equal parts of fear and exhilaration at the mere prospect. This would clearly throw her life off its axis and rearrange all plans she'd ever had for her future. But wouldn't it also be wonderful, a totally mind-numbing and fear-inducing kind of wonderful?

When the time was up, she slowly reached out and closed her fingers around the plastic tube, not daring to look at it for the final verdict. No, not final, false positives weren't unheard of, the final verdict would be cast by her gynecologist. Whom she would call, once she'd find the courage.

A slight draft moved the still open bathroom door slightly and the summer air seemed to caress her cheek for a moment. No sense stalling any further. She opened her fist and looked down. Two pink stripes told her all she needed to know.

Fate sure had a strange way of displaying its grace. Robin buried her face in her hands and cried.

THE END

This fic was written for the Angst vs Schmoop Challenge at Numb3rsWriteOff on LiveJournal. After you've read the fic, please rate it by voting in the poll located here: www . livejournal . com / poll / ?id1247867 (Your vote will be anonymous.) Rate the fic on a scale of 1 - 10 (10 being the best) using the following criteria: how well the fic fit the prompt, how angsty or schmoopy the fic was, and how well you enjoyed the fic. When you're done, please check out the other challenge fic at Numb3rsWriteOff. Thank you!