Summary: He wasn't there. And she was alone. With her memories.
Word Count: 714
Disclaimer: I don't own Brooklyn Nine-Nine or the characters.
She just sat there. On the cold, hard floor.
It was the hardest thing, to sit on the floor of that apartment. The place they went to live together so many years ago. It seemed like a lifetime ago when he brought the last box from his apartment to their apartment, the one they shared until...
And as she sat on that floor, she remembered all those mornings with him waking up like a zombie, but with just a splash of water on his face he would wake up instantly, eating cereal full of energy. She was always surprised to see him awake like that.
But now it just broke her heart to remember that.
She knew that sooner or later she would have to face the entire facts. She would have to go back to the room, their room. It became only hers now.
The room where they slept together, made love, the room where he realized he wanted to propose to her.
The room where she had her life planner. This wasn't in the plans. But now, she wasn't concerned about that.
He wasn't there.
And she was alone. With her memories.
In the middle of their living room. In that room where she fell asleep so many times with her head on his lap, him playing with her subconsciously. Where they fought so many times about what movie they were watching that night. That room where they talked about cases and sometimes even solved them. That room... how she wished she could go back to those moments, where she had no idea she was the happiest at.
And not she was sitting on that cold, hard floor. Her eyes red-rimmed, her mascara ruined, her hair a mess worse than his closet. No matter how many times she tried, she couldn't get up. She needed him there with her. She needed him to tell her everything was going to be okay, for him to give her a hug to put all of her pieces together. She wanted to feel his warm, soft lips against hers, his arms holding her together, his hair hitching her neck, tickling her. She wanted his cheap cologne to be against her clothes, leaving that smell as she walked around catching the bad guys.
Now, the only way for her to carry his smell around was if she wore his clothes. Exactly what she was doing.
She was using his old NYPD sweatshirt, one that was once Terry's, so it was huge on him, therefore big on her. It made her remember the time he kept smacking everything with its sleeves, they were so big. His laugh, always a constant presence in the precinct. She can remember why he was using that sweatshirt. It was one of the days he 'accidentally' caused a small fire, making the sprinklers activated. At least it was only on him. And since it was only in the break room, not much was ruined. Only the couch. Making Hitchcock and Scully sleep on their chairs.
Where their farts would get faster to them. They had to throw their chairs – with them on it – to the man's bathroom.
And it made Terry give Jake that sweatshirt. One that he never gave back. Because he could hit people with it. And he had so much with it.
The sweatpants she wore, they were Jake's from the academy. She smiles when she remembers the day he first showed her those pants. They were full of little holes, and she distinctly remembered telling him to just throw them away. But he just asked her for lessons on how to sew. He ended up stitching up the pants back to their original state. Although, he did a horrible job so she had to do it herself. It was only then that they actually were usable.
His socks, as disgusting as they always seemed, they were warm on her feet. She remembers him doing the full bullpen. She was sure those weren't the same socks, but they made her remember that amazing moment.
She was smiling, but deep down inside her heart was breaking. Those memories were happy ones.
And she felt lost, in that floor, tears not disappearing... ever.
The End
Muahaha! Angsty, once more... :)!