Author: Kristin
Disclaimer: Not mine, wish they were, I love you Hank, and they belong to you!
A/N: First and foremost, thanks to D and Maple Street, the best forum EVER!! Secondly, this is just a scenario that was running through my head in light of the upcoming season. Boy, do I hope this doesn't happen, but that's why we have fic, huh? I dedicate this one to my father. It is hard to let go.
Summary: It's harder to let go of the living than it is to let go of the dead.
*
She's trapped, she thinks, halfway between Heaven and Hell in that place where you can't move forward and you can't ever look back.
Time is measured in lonely hours as each second he starts to fade from her existence. He left her casually, on the turn of a head, a slight brush against her shoulder, a small smile, an empty promise that his presence would still be felt in her life.
All fairy tales begin with that trite opening line, "Once upon a time," as it's imprinted on the minds of young children year after year. Each of them, she thinks, once believed in that cliche, in that little happy ending as the last page was flipped over. Each of them once, perhaps, dreamed of dragons and knights and maidens; kings and queens and the unspoken assurance each day that good would always triumph over evil, nothing bad would ever happen, and love would last forever.
Silly, though it is, she finds herself wishing to believe those fairy tales once more.
His back is to her now, preventing an advance, a hope that what once was could be once more.
There are more photographs on his wall now, more than ever. His ring rests solidly on his finger, his marriage vows remain intact, and as he leaves the office tonight, shutting off the lamp, smiling at the picture of his wife, he takes one more fragment of her heart until piece by piece, she begins to crumble.
*
"Sam, I owe you one. I can't thank you enough."
"It's no problem, really." She waves off her sister's repeated thanks as she bounces her young niece gently against her hip.
"Just -- just have fun, okay?"
Patting Samantha's shoulder softly, her sister smiles once more and leaves quietly with her purse hastily draped over her arm.
Sometimes, she feels so alone.
*
Maybe she was meant to meet him, in some twisted cosmic way. Maybe he was meant to serve a purpose beyond anything she has yet to fully understand. The complexities of their relationship kept her up nights, wondering where she was going, what she had done, why she had done it, and if she could allow herself the hope that this man, this love, was more than the physical attraction, the need to be with someone who fully understood the pain of the job.
Maybe once it meant more than just being together. Once...once upon a time, it meant never looking back and never fearing the future. It was that love she had dreamt about long ago, safely tucked away in that childhood neverland where dreams were born.
It had become the love of her life, the reason she found herself committing to each day with a passion, a reason to keep searching for the tiny fabric of human decency amidst the evils of the world.
Jack Malone had embodied every fiery passion she had ever imagined.
Jack Malone had become her life.
He slipped in quietly and left just the same. The threads of her soul were slowly unraveling each day as the realization he would never be coming back dawned on her. He had gone back to Marie, back to the life he once had, the life he suddenly wanted again.
And she was left to pick up the pieces.
She found she didn't want to. It was easy to shrug off the relationship in the beginning, easy to believe that once it ended, she could move on.
She had come alive with him.
She struggled to breathe without him.
So the night draws near as it always does, the silence giving her too much time to think. Her hand strokes gently through the soft tufts of hair on her niece's head as she settles in for the night. Her tiny head burrows into Samantha's lap, seeking a shelter from the real world briefly, a chance to escape.
"Tell me a story," she says in her childish voice, her thumb going into her mouth.
Samantha sighs and thinks, leaning back against the headboard, and smiles sadly, wistfully.
"Once upon a time, there was a woman -- "
"A princess?"
"Well, she wanted to be one, but she was just an ordinary woman. One day, she escaped her dungeon and found a big city to live in and work and make friends. She was scared at first, but then she met this man who made her feel safe --"
"She was his princess, wasn't she?"
"Once. For a little while. And one day, a man hurt her, and her prince came to rescue her."
Her niece's eyes begin to lower, already lost in the blissful refuge of sleep.
Her breathing evens out and the story dies on Samantha's tongue. There is no ending. No happy resolution or hopeful reassurance. Just a hole, a hollow touchstone.
She leans down, trying to maintain a comfortable position, and turns to gaze out the window at the drops of rain steadily battering the window.
Her mind wanders through memories and words and wishes and dreams, lingering on a single thought as the edges of her consciousness begin to fade away.
It's harder to let go of the living than it is to let go of the dead.
She has to let him go.
And this, she thinks, is going to hurt like hell.
*
FIN