I know this isn't necessarily what this song is ABOUT, but do I care? The answer is no. :-) This isn't, like, a HAPPY STORY, or a GOOD STORY, so don't yell at me for bumming you out or anything, alright? (:

"I will not make the same mistakes you did.
I will not let myself cause my heart so much misery.
I will not break the way you did;
You fell so hard.
I've learned the hard way
To never let it get that far.

Because of you I never stray too far from the sidewalk.
Because of you I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt.
Because of you I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me.
Because of you, I am afraid."

They think I'm the hero. Everyone here thinks I'm a great detective, an amazing partner, and an outstanding friend.

It all started when I was young. I actually can't remember a time I didn't get into trouble. I was a god-awful son; I can't believe my parents even put up with me at all. I must've made their lives so hard.

Then I joined the force. Yeah, I guess it was to follow in my dad's footsteps at first. Then my life started, quite literally, falling apart.

My mom died, and every day since, it replayed in my mind, haunting me: the last words she said, the last breath she took, her eyes looking at mine, and then her not seeing, not breathing, not being anything anymore. She was gone. Just like that, gone.

My dad was a criminal by then. Cynthia and I both knew it was only a matter of time before he got caught. And he did. But I still followed in his footsteps, joining the force like I always assumed I would. I guess all those little police cars won me over. I wasn't afraid I'd end up a corrupt cop like him. Thinking back, maybe I should have been. But it doesn't really matter.

So there I was, doing what my dad always wanted me to do, and doing it goddamn good, too. I was sticking to the law and locking criminals up like I was born to do it. Eventually, Cynthia moved away. It wasn't like I hadn't expected her to, but what I hadn't expected was how much it hurt. She didn't die; she wasn't in prison. She still left me though, just like mom and dad. My big sister still abandoned me just like they had. And yeah, obviously I never told her I needed her. Ever. Not even when I was a kid. I didn't need my big sister.

It still hurt, though.

They all said I was the hero. I was always so willing to take a bullet for my partner, for Ken or Blaise or Joe or anyone. I would always stand between my partner and danger. They just didn't realize that I was the one that didn't care. Everyone left me, why would I care if a bomb took my life instead of Ken's? My family had all gone, what difference would it make if I took a bullet from a maniac's gun instead of Blaise? They should have the chance to live if that's what they wanted. Because me? I didn't want it. I really, really didn't want it.

Then Natara showed up. They still called me the hero detective, the big shot that was willing to protect the new fed from danger out on the streets. I've never smiled so much when they said that. Because now, it was the real deal. It wasn't some dumb impulse to let myself get hurt instead of someone who I thought deserved life more than I did. Taking a bullet for Natara wasn't like taking a bullet for anyone else. It wasn't like "She values her life and she has things to live for and I better let her live so she can do them because I have nothing better to do." No, with Natara, it was instinct. It was like, "I need to keep this woman alive because she is so incredibly, unbelievably special that I can't bear the thought of her not existing somewhere at all times on the earth, even if I'm not alive to be there next to her." With Natara, I began to matter, but she came first.

For awhile, that strategy worked great. I kept recklessly saving her and she kept hugging me in gratitude and I loved every single bit of it. I realized I was falling for her and she fell for me and everything was inexplicably, indescribably wonderful for the first time since I was a kid.

Then I made a mistake.

In retrospect, we should have told Anders or someone. Someone that could have told her "no" when I couldn't. I shouldn't have let her go out on the field with me, but how could anyone possibly have expected me to say no? She was making that adorable face that made me just think "God, I love this woman so goddamn much she can have anything she's asking for if it will make her smile." So I let her. I let her come with to chase that goddamn criminal.

And the guy had a gun. And the gun had a bullet. And I had my goddamn idiotic strategy. He shot at her, and I ran and pushed her aside just as recklessly, just as thoughtlessly, just as instinctively as I always had.

"I need to save her. I need to save my wife. Not Natara, please God not Natara. Not my wife. Not when she just told me she's finally pregnant. Not Natara, not the baby. I need to save our baby."

That's me, just being the goddamn hero as always.

Maybe now she's more careful without me. Like, without knowing I'll be there to push her aside when she's being reckless and standing right in the way of a bullet whizzing toward her, maybe she stops and thinks, "Hey, maybe I should move out of the way because I need to pick my daughter up from daycare in a few hours and she's probably not expecting to be an orphan by the end of the day." I sure hope she thinks of Isabelle before she stands right in front of a goddamn bullet. (That's what she named our daughter, by the way. Isabelle. Isn't that the most gorgeous name in the world? Oh, you should see her. She's the most gorgeous kid in the world. That name fits her perfectly.)

If anything happened to Natara, I don't know what I would do. I don't know how someone could watch the person they love more than anyone in the world dying. How could anyone do that? How could anyone hold their hand and tell them they'd be okay and tell them they love them when they know – they know goddamn well – things aren't okay?

How the hell did Nat do that for me?