Another tag. Because I had to. I...can't even pretend to understand what Dan is doing - so this happened.

A little different from things I've written, a lot more expository than usual. Hope it works. :)


Turn the lights up over every boy and every girl.

Closing time,

One last call for alcohol, so finish your whiskey or beer.

Closing time,

You don't have to go home but you can't stay here.


She blinked up from wiping off the counter to see him walking towards her.

Well, so much for a night alone to collect her thoughts. (Introspection was never really her thing anyway.)

"We're closed, Benson." She shrugged. "I'd tell you to read the sign...but we don't have one yet."

He half laughed and pulled up a stool to sit by the counter. "Yeah, the empty tables kind of gave that away."

She gave a him look still expecting him to explain why he was here. "So..."

It was his turn to shrug. "I, uh, I heard you guys were actually almost closed for good."

She nodded, absently playing with the dishtowel. "Oh, it was no big chiz. Good ole Ted had our backs."

He grinned. "Gotta love him."

She scoffed and turned her back for a minute, placing a stray glass on the tray that was behind her.

"Yeah, you seem to love a lot of people," she mumbled, the words tumbling out of her mouth without her consent.

She was sure she could feel Freddie's eyes on her back.

"Excuse me?"

She cleared her throat, shaking her head. "Nothing."

"Sam-"

Turning around with a sharp inhale of breath she cut him off. "Weren't you studying tonight? With Carls?" She tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice. Really she did.

"Why are you here?"

"I-"

She propped her elbow on the counter, resting her hand under chin waving him on to continue.

"I don't know," he finally finished.

"Yeah." She rolled her eyes and stood up straight again. "That's what I thought. So, in that case, I'm sure you'll have no problem moseying right on out."

She stopped and gestured towards the door. "I have to finish closing up."

She broke eye contact and took a step to walk away before he grabbed her wrist from across the counter.

"Sam, stop-"

"Stop. What?"

"I just - I came to talk," he answered. "Can we just talk?"

She perused her lips, tilting her head. "I honestly can't think of anything we have to talk about."

"You're upset."

"Is there a reason I should be?" She's daring him to be the first to say something.

He ran a hand through his hair, takes a beat. "I guess not," he settled on.

Of course he chooses not to.

She wasn't sure if she's more angry or relieved.

"...Sorry I bothered you."

"You've been bothering me years," she returned, with an empty smile. (Neither of them buy it.) "Used to it."

"Right." She watched him start to leave and Goddamn him to hell and back for the sudden ache in her chest.

He doesn't get to do this.

He doesn't get to come here to stir things up, confuse– hurt her –– even more and then walk away.

Freddie does not get to break her heart again.

"You know what? You wanna talk – let's talk."

He stopped in his tracks and turned around slowly towards her. "It did upset you, didn't it? What you asked before?"

She extended her hands outward, albeit over dramatically. "Well give the boy a prize, ladies and gentleman. We have a winner."

Honestly, she's over the games. Over pretending and the lies. To him –– to herself.

After everything they'd been through, she thought they both were.

(Isn't that what 'I love you' s are for?)

There's a softness in his eyes as he sat back down and she really, really wishes she could learn to hate him.

"I-I didn't think it would. Not really."

She raised an eyebrow, disbelieving. He's many things but, dense was never one of them.

"I mean, you're fawning over 'hot guys' again and hanging all over boy band members..." He stopped to meet her eyes. "I just assumed-"

She shook her head. "It's not the same."

He doesn't say anything else, just looked down at his shoes she pressed on.

"You tell me that you wouldn't be swooning in that oh so Freddie way of yours over some celebrity chick that came on the show? Does Shelby Marx not ring a bell?"

"We weren't dating then."

"We're not dating now!"

Her words hung in the air, the reality of saying it out loud – finally talking about it – striking the loudest silence she'd ever experienced.

"Then why are we having this conversation?" he finally whispered back.

He's the one daring now. Pushing her to talk.

Say something. Say anything.

"I..." She trailed off biting her lip. What can she say?

She has no claim to him anymore.

(Isn't that what 'I love you' s are for?)

"Like I said Benson, it's not the same."

"Why?"

Does she really need to spell this out for him?

"Freddie, it's Carly," she breathed, her voice nearly inaudible to even herself.

She hoped she wouldn't have to say more – that he of all people would get it.

That he'd understand.

Sam loves Carly more than anyone but––

After Jonah, after countless years of always being looked past in lieu of her best friend –– after years watching him chase after her – knowing that she had always been second best...It cuts.

That sting...he'd been the one to heal it; the night he'd kissed her.

The night he'd made her believe that she was worth falling for.

Made her believe that someone could put her first.

(When no one else had.)

(Isn't that what 'I love you' s are for?)

And now...she's left with that wound open, feeling played, sure he's thinking that he had it right the first time around.

That it's been Carly all along.

She watched the realization wash over his face and then darted her eyes down to a random spot on the counter.

"Oh, God, Sam -" He stood up after a second and walked around to meet her where she's standing.

"A crush isn't the same thing as– I mean, what you and I had..."

His voice tapered off and she tried to gather his meaning. She wants to believe he's telling the truth...

She doesn't know if she could handle it if she had been just his consolation prize.

He bit his lip, and nodded slowly, before taking a long breath. "I was never in love with her, Sam – it wasn't like..." He stepped closer and her own breath hitched. "With us."

She gulped, nodded back. "But you do...like her again?"

Why she wants to know, why she's intent on hurting herself, she has no idea.

Her closed shut, braced for the answer.

"I...I'm not sure," was his response. "Not really sure of anything right now, to be honest."

She laughed dryly.

That makes two of them.

"Hey," he continued to make her look back at him. "Even if I-" He paused. "I wouldn't go there."

She's unconvinced. "Come on, dude, if Carly woke up tomorrow and suddenly-"

"She wouldn't."

"But if-"

"Wouldn't do that to you," he insisted, softly. "Couldn't."

His proximity is suddenly unnerving and she's fighting to breathe.

"And no matter what happens going forward – or whoever I end up dating –" He stopped for a beat, his hand moving to just barely ghost over hers that's still leaning on counter.

"It's not going to take away from...What we were to each other."

Were. Not are.

And the truth is like a splash of cold water to the face, accompanied by a punch in the gut.

"Great," she answered, moving away to face forwards. "Got it. We're good, okay? You don't have to feel guilty or whatever."

He opened his mouth to cut in but she doesn't stop. "Let's just...move on, all right?"

He certainly has already.

She could see him looking at her through the corner of her eye and at the moment she wants nothing more for a hole in the basement to swallow her up.

"I'm sorry," he pressed on, obviously ignoring her plea. "If I made you think..."

She turned her head, faced him again.

"I'm glad we went out, Sam. I don't regret any of it. Or anything...I said."

He gave her a soft smile, bright and wide –– reminiscent of the ones he'd always save just for her.

It still makes her melt.

"Yeah, well..." She shuffled her feet and looked up at him through her lashes. "Ditto"

They stand in silence before he cleared his throat.

"So...what now?" he questioned.

Closure maybe? A new start?

(But what if she still wants to go back?)

She just shrugged before turning back to reach the pitcher of lemonade along with two clean glasses.

His eyes widen and he grinned at her.

She poured him a glass, smiling back, and then brushed her hair out of her face to look at him.

"We can stay open a little bit longer."

(Isn't that what 'I love you' s are for?)


Closing time,

Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.