- three -

Every breath is excruciating.

She knows it's for Nathan's own good, and that's the only reason she can go through with it. But pushing him away hurts worse than slicing her wrists with a jagged shard. She eases into it, thinking that will be easier – cancelling their movie date with a claim that she's tired, staying late at the station so she doesn't have to join him for dinner, inviting Duke to lunch so they don't have a chance to be alone. She makes herself watch his face crumple in disappointment every time because the guilt of looking away would be suspicious, but it's like swallowing glass and she knows she'll never survive forty-three days of this.

There had been a moment this morning, when Duke had suggested forgetting all this and enjoying whatever time she had left, that she had contemplated just that. She could drag Nathan off to a tropical island somewhere and tell him she needed a vacation – and nothing else. At least then he'd always have those memories of paradise. There's something intoxicating about the thought of having him to herself – no late night calls from the station, no small town politics or traumatizing Troubles. But the practical side of her knows she can't vanish into thin air without warning and leave him stranded in a foreign country. Lucy couldn't run from the Hunter, and she's afraid she's no different. She can't let anyone dangerous think Nathan is keeping her from her destiny. Whoever she is, she isn't meant to be happy. She's meant to help the Troubled, and she needs to keep doing that for as long as she can. She can't let Nathan get in the way of that – for his own good as much as for anyone else's.

She's made up her mind – this is the only way. Better to rip it off like a band-aid.

She can't believe she actually wishes the meteor storm would arrive sooner.

"How about we get some takeout and call it a night?" he asks, hovering by her desk. He hasn't been this tentative around her since – well, ever. She hates it.

She's about to hate everything a whole lot more in a minute.

"I don't think this is going to work."

He goes still and silent. Usually she has a good idea what he's thinking, but in that moment she has no idea.

"Pardon?"

She desperately wants to allay the fear that's crept into his tone. Instead she takes a deep breath and spits out lies. "You and me. This more than partners thing. It's a distraction. There's a serial killer on the loose and we need to focus on that, not on screwing around."

"We're not screwing around," he argues, immediately defensive. She grabs on to the touch of anger in his tone, because it'll be easier to play off that than the sadness that is sure to come.

She narrows her eyes. They're not just screwing around. But they're definitely screwing around. A lot.

Or they were.

She tries to appear aloof, unaffected. "It's unprofessional."

"That's never bothered you before. You didn't give a damn about professionalism after you shot the Rev."

"What I give a damn about is helping the Troubled. I need to focus on that, and you need to let me. So we need to cool it."

"This isn't about work. I don't know what the hell is going on in your head, but that isn't it. You're not leaving here until you tell me."

"Are you forbidding me from breaking up with you?" She finally feels anger begin to spark in her stomach, and she tries to fan it because this would be so much easier if she was enraged instead of heartbroken.

He huffs out a labored breath. "Lord knows you've never listened to me before. Don't know why you would start now. But after everything we've been through, I thought you'd at least have the decency to tell me the truth."

It feels like she can't breathe, except she's still sucking air into her lungs. It's just not doing any good as her chest constricts and her heart pounds and her traitorous lips almost tell him everything. But she clenches her jaw and keeps silent. Because she remembers that glimpse of the Colorado Kid's bloody form, the overwhelming devastation that had consumed Lucy that felt exactly the same as when Nathan had been hit by that car on the endless day, and she'd stroked his hair and watched the light fade from his eyes as he whispered that all he could feel was her. Something inside her had died both those times. It feels like it's dying now, but as long as he doesn't she'll carry on as long as she needs to. It's only forty-three days.

Maybe not remembering is meant to be a mercy.

She glares back but she doesn't say anything, and she wills him to fold first.

Except that he doesn't.

He's too damn stubborn and that's the problem exactly. So she pulls out her final weapon, which she knows will break them beyond repair.

"Look, I'm sorry you're not going to be able to find another fuck buddy but some things are more important than getting off."

She's not expecting how quickly his outrage melts into desolation. He'd been far more peaceful dying in her arms – but the sudden dullness of his eyes is so similar the magnitude of what she's done shatters her resolve. She was so certain this was what's right but he's actually crying and suddenly she's crying and she can't handle it and this is wrong, so wrong, so very wrong.

"See you around the office, Parker," he spits, and the disdain is so foreign from this man who has bandaged her hurts and soothed her soul. He doesn't look at her as he turns around and as soon as he reaches the door something inside her just snaps.

"Lucy loved the Colorado Kid and it got him killed," she whispers brokenly as she stands up to follow him. He stops with his hand on the doorknob. "I love you too much to let the same thing happen to you."

He's like a whirlwind as he turns back towards her, grabs her tear drenched face and kisses her with bruising force. He's never been rough with her before but she doesn't push him away. For better or worse, she's done with that. She can't save him – not without breaking him – and if it's too late for both of them all she can do is accept that. She kisses him back just as desperately, all clashing teeth and feuding tongues, because she's angry at him for not letting her save him and angry at herself for failing and angry at this damn world for putting them in this inescapable situation.

When he finally tears his mouth away, panting, he drops it to her neck and she knows he'll leave a mark.

"We can't do this here," she hisses, surprised by how angry she sounds.

"Because you're determined to use some moronic argument to break us apart?"

"Because we're in my office and you're giving Stan a free show." Indeed, the officer is standing outside the window, probably drawn there by the sound of the commotion. At the mention of his name he startles out of view.

Nathan closes the blinds so forcefully Audrey thinks he might rip them down.

"Now he probably thinks we're going to have angry sex on my desk." She can't help it – these things just come out of her mouth before they cross her brain. And now suddenly she is thinking about exactly that and she can't keep herself from blushing.

"You don't have to protect me," he says through gritted teeth once he recovers from her awkward comment. "I'm a grown man. And a cop. I've been looking out for myself my whole life."

"Are you saying you wouldn't try to protect me if our places were reversed?"

He ignores her question, but they both know the answer. "We don't know who killed the Colorado Kid or why. That was twenty-seven years ago. The Hunter may not even be alive."

She had spent the first day after Duke's revelation wishing he had never told her. She'd rather live her life oblivious than spend what was left of it dwelling on its ending. She understood Duke's paranoia about the tattooed man a helluva lot better than she used to. But now that the future was known, there was no way to unlearn it. "The Hunter isn't a person," she explains. "It's a meteor storm."

"How do you know that?" The ferocity of his emotions seem to have faded, but he's still tense and it makes her nervous. Instinct tells her to reach out to him and drown his fears with her touch, but that would be a false and temporary balm.

"Duke did some digging in the Herald archives. The storm hits every twenty-seven years. And when it comes ... I go."

"Go where?" he demands.

Wasn't that the question of her life. "I don't know. But Lucy and Sarah – the woman before Lucy – both vanished the night of the Hunter."

She waits for a freak out that never comes. He crosses his arms and scowls, as if bracing himself for an attack. "I'm not going to let you walk off into some meteor storm. We'll figure this out."

"The next one's in forty-three days."

His eyes widen and his fingers twitch, but his voice is steady when he tells her, "There's still time."

Hers is a wavering mess. "There isn't. That's less than two months away! I thought if I broke up with you now it would give you some time to get over me, so it would be easier when I go."

"There's nothing that could make losing you easier."

She wraps her arms around herself. The tears keep falling, and she can't stop them. "Damn it Nathan! I need you to be okay when I'm gone."

"That's impossible."

"Don't say that. Please," she begs. She cannot bear the thought of leaving him alone and heartbroken any more than she can stomach him dying because of her. He has suffered so much already. All she wants is to ease his pain, but she's about to make it so much worse.

He approaches her like she is a wounded animal and places two gentle hands on her shoulders. "Long as you stay, I'll be just fine."

"I don't think it'll be my choice. Lucy wanted to stay, and the Colorado Kid died."

"We'll find a way. We always do. I'm not losing the best thing that's ever happened to me."

His resolve is so comforting and familiar that she throws her arms around him and holds on. He relaxes against her, his hands rubbing soothing patterns across her back. He presses a kiss to her forehead and she wants to remember this forever – this wonderful man who loves her so much that she can't push him away as much as she tries. She doesn't understand how love can be erased – but she had loved the Colorado Kid and all she can remember is his death. She doesn't want that to be the only thing she can remember about Nathan. But she doesn't know how to fight this anymore.

"Why do you put up with me?" she whispers into his neck. "I'm a mess, and my life's some cosmic joke."

There's one obvious reason for his attention, of course. He's told her that isn't it but she can't fathom anything else being strong enough to bind him to her when she's a moody and erratic disaster.

When he doesn't answer immediately she wishes she could burrow into the ground. "Gosh, you don't have to answer that. I can't believe I even asked. Just forget it."

"Give me a second. I'm trying to find the words."

He pulls away, and she's not sure she's ever seen him look so determined. "I put up with you because you're the most extraordinary woman I've ever met. You have a single minded determination to help others, whatever it takes. You're smart. Gorgeous. You make me laugh and keep me on my toes. You've never treated me any differently because of my Trouble. You're strong, inside and out, and you can kick anyone's ass, including mine, which is sexy as hell. You fixed me, not just because you made me feel again, but because you made me want to live. And you spend so much time looking after everyone else that you never look after yourself. I want to be the one to do that – to make you breakfast and remind you to sleep and make sure you take some time off from saving the world to enjoy yourself. To be a shoulder to cry on when you need it and the one to tell you you don't need to face the future alone."

Never before had compliments made her want to bawl. She doesn't feel like the woman Nathan described, but his eyes are brimming with sincerity and hers are brimming with tears. "You're the best man I've ever met," she tells him, and it seems inadequate compared to everything he's said but it's the singular thought running through her mind. "You're just so good. Honest and patient and kind and so nice to me even when I don't deserve it. And I'm so sorry for saying such terrible things. I didn't mean them, I swear. I know this isn't about your Trouble or my immunity. I just needed something to make you mad enough to leave."

She's glad when he doesn't tell her it's okay, because it isn't. She'd crossed a line when she'd reduced his love to something crass and she's afraid she'll relive that horrible moment for the rest of her short life.

"I would have come back as soon as I cooled down."

Her own personal boomerang. But instead of making her feel cherished, it just frustrates her. "I was trying to save you. Now I don't know how to do that."

He wipes the tears from under her eyes and she imagines she can feel his pulse through his fingers. "If you really love me, then don't give up on yourself. I'll fix this."

She wants so desperately to believe him, but she's never believed in fairytales. "No one's been able to before."

"My father didn't love Lucy – thank God." She wrinkles her nose at that thought. Thank God, indeed. As if her life isn't already a soap opera. "And if you don't think I'm more capable than Vince and Dave I'm going to be offended."

That coaxes a half-hearted chuckle from her. "There's my girl." His hands trace the contours of her face and she closes her eyes, letting the sensation steady her. He values her strength, but she's never let anyone else see her so weak.

"What if we can't stop this?" she asks, keeping her eyes closed.

"We will." If he doubts that at all, she can't tell by his voice.

She opens her eyes. "What if we can't?" she demands.

"If you only have forty-three days left as Audrey Parker, then I want to spend every one of them at your side."

She launches herself into his arms, needing to feel his lips open under hers. He's right, of course. If they only have forty-three days, then they need to make them count. She isn't a quitter, and she isn't one to sit around and complain that life isn't fair.

"Whatever's coming, you're not gonna face it alone," he whispers against her lips, and he kisses her until she feels like she is drowning.

Though it's the sweetest damnation imaginable, she can't help but feel like she has failed him.

This is our life, it's all that we get
The days are all numbered
And the nights are all spent losing our focus
We're starting to drag, we're running in circles
And we start to feel bad

But it don't mean that this ain't right
We just both need a little more time

Snowblind, Rob Thomas