A/N: In an Alternate Universe where Reagan doesn't exist. (Sam does, mind you.)

Cowards

She knew it was cowardice; pure, unadulterated and utter cowardice.

But she couldn't help but value preserving her sanity more than her ego. Her ego hurting? That she could take. Her heart? Not so much. She simply didn't have the strength in her anymore. She'd had enough, and any more attempts at keeping up the whole everything's-is-just-great act was starting to kill her. Her face hurt from all the smiling when she felt nowhere close to even talking. It wasn't like she wanted to cry all day. Not really. She really just didn't want to talk to anybody. She was simply tired of maintaining a facade.

She felt herself laugh darkly at the thought of her, Jessica Day, not wanting to talk to anyone. This is what she'd become; a completely different person with a weight she carried in her heart almost every second of every day. She missed her old self and wanted to do everything in her power to restore that part of herself. Genuinely bring her back instead of walking around with a mask pasted on a ghost of her former self.

Inhaling deeply, she shook her head, trying to clear it. She looked at the suitcase resting on her bed, the slivers of moonlight turning the turquoise colour into a ghostly faded blue. Everything she needed was in there. She pulled the suitcase off the bed, holding the base with one hand to lower it gently without any noise. Pulling it after her, she paused at her desk to pick up the envelope she was going to leave on kitchen island for her roommates to find.

It wasn't very long; an apology, a promise that she'd try to be back soon and some generic stuff about needing some time to figure herself out, while of course excluding a very important truth. It wasn't exactly a lie of course, but it was an oversimplification and a minor case of truth by omission. She knew that wasn't sufficient and her roommates were bound to throw a tantrum. But she would just seek their forgiveness when she came back. If she came back. She hoped things wouldn't get that bad.

Opening her bedroom's door, she stepped into the hallway with her suitcase behind her. Wincing when the wheels made a noise against the hardwood floor. Sighing, she picked it up so that it was a few inches above the ground. She took small, quick steps towards the main door, pausing every once in a while to set the suitcase on the ground and catch a breath. Finally, she was at the door.

She swallowed thickly before putting her hand on the doorknob and after a few moments of hesitation, she sighed. Shaking her head, frustrated at her own taste for punishment, she left the suitcase at the doorway and made her way back to the hallway.

Standing outside his door, she stared at it for a few seconds before opening it softly, just a peep. She tiptoed into his room, and took in his sleeping figure and felt her heart ache dully. She'd promised herself a glance, but against her instincts, she walked towards his bed and stare at his face. She resisted the urge to smooth his frown, and suppressed the rising concern at the realisation of his rigid shoulder muscles; he wasn't having a very pleasant sleep. The lampshade she'd bought him long ago was exactly where she'd placed it, and it's dim glow cast shadows on his face. Added to which the slight scruff he had started to keep only made him look more disturbed. Shaking her head, she turned back to the door and glancing at him once more over his shoulder, she walked out his room.

The moment the door closed behind her, he felt himself relax. He'd known it was her; he'd recognise the footfall anywhere. She'd always thought she was stealthy, but she really wasn't. He'd pretend to be surprised when she'd tiptoe in with breakfast to surprise him when they were together just to feel the awe of being able to make her that happy.

He'd known this moment would come. He'd noticed her change in behaviour. He'd seen it in the way her smile would drop the minute she thought no one was looking, the way she sighed to herself every now and then, how she mostly talked to the floor these days, not looking anyone in the case. And last week, when he'd gone to her room to ask her about breakfast, he had pretended not to have noticed her suitcase that stood next to her desk. Finally, this morning, when she had taken her toothbrush and shower gel with her back to her room after her shower.

The darned wedding had him feel all kinds of things for her and was starting to drive him crazy. He wasn't ready to deal with all of it just yet. He couldn't, not at a time he knew she was this vulnerable from her breakup with Sam and the wedding itself. He'd seen the longing in her eyes when they were standing behind their best friends while they got married. Seen the tears that she was refusing to shed and the smile that she'd worn on her face; genuine happiness for her friend with just a hint of envy. He'd known in that moment that he could give it all to her, wanted to give all that to her. But he didn't know if she wanted those things from him; not after those foolishly uttered words in the aftermath of the worst hangover of his life. He remembered that vividly; a memory burned into his brain.

But if there was anything he had learned from his relationship with Jess, it was that leaps of faith can help you land even further than you wanted to. But he wasn't ready to take that jump yet; the last time, he'd landed quite well, but skid and fell off the mark. He was still preparing, warming. He would talk to her. He definitely would. He would talk to her when she came back; she would come back.

She would.

As he heard the soft click of the main door, he sighed and sat up on his bed, face in his hands. There was no point in sugarcoating what he was feeling with metaphors.

Nick knew it was cowardice; pure, unadulterated and utter cowardice.

A/N: I am extremely down today, and filled with a lot of sadness. So I had to channel it somewhere. I don't usually write this kind of stuff, but the Sadness Demon possessed me and I couldn't help it. I'm sorry.

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