She needs this man.

Didn't realise it until the bullet ripped through his stomach, ripped through her heart.

Didn't realise how much he was part of her day-to-day existence, ever present, taken for granted but vital. Like breathing.

His warm body ready to absorb the chill she brought to bed, after nights spent strutting the docks in high heels and halter tops. The fresh coffee on the nightstand as the alarm sounds. Her shirts, crisp and freshly ironed, hanging amongst his. The way they move around the small kitchen, the smaller bathroom: never colliding, never in each other's way. The shoulder massages, the foot rubs; never requested but always provided. The way he just knows it has been a bad day; warm scented bath water waiting...

There is so little time left, and she is selfish, greedy for every precious second. Resentful that she has to share this time with the doctors, the nurses, his partner, his squad, his captain, his family... the seemingly never ending procession of false cheer, forced smiles, evasive answers and barely suppressed tears. But she lets them come, sits with her back straight, face stoic while the voice inside her head rages "Go away, leave him alone, leave us alone..."

Leave us alone because there is so much left unsaid.

She still needs to say she's sorry.

Sorry for her mocking derision of his gift of a taser; that she now understands he wanted her to be safe, protected. Sorry for not taking his name when she took her vows and his ring; that she hadn't wanted to give up her allegiance to one cop as she pledged her life to another. Sorry for putting her career first, her marriage second and motherhood way down on the list. Sorry for all the times she lashed out with her sharp tongue and sorry for all the times that softer sentiments were left unsaid...

And she needs to thank him.

Thank him for his unfaltering, non-judgemental support in every choice she has made. Thank him for sharing his hopes, his dreams with her and making her part of them. Thank him for putting aside his gruff, practical nature to show her his tenderness, his gentleness. She needs to thank him for every promise kept, every kiss, every hug, every touch, every loving word and gesture, everything...

And finally she needs to say goodbye.

Goodbye to nights at the pub, drinking beer and listening to him sing "Wild Rover" in an off key duet with Kevin, as she and Theresa roll their eyes in mock pain. Goodbye to heated debates and companionable silences. Goodbye to the strange domesticity of cleaning their guns together; to practicing on the range, side by side in serious but good natured competition. Goodbye to their private rituals observed on St Patrick's Day, on Christmas mornings, on the first snowy day. Goodbye to days spent laughing and nights spent loving... Goodbye to dreams of being parents, grandparents, growing old together. She needs to say goodbye to him, all of him, past, present and future.

At last she is alone with him.

The words choke in her throat and she realises she is not ready, that there is not enough time; there will never be enough time to say all the things she has to say. That the words "I love you" seem too small, too inadequate to truly convey her feelings...

The steady beeps of the monitor change to a soul piercing monotone and the moment is forever lost.