100-fic prompt: 033. Too Much

AN: Originally published in 2008. Chapter revised in 2021 to match tonality and mood in subsequent chapters.

This is our last embrace
Must I dream and always see your face
Why can't we overcome this wall
Baby, maybe it is just because I didn't know you at all

Jeff Buckley, "Last Goodbye"

last goodbye

Detective Senior Constable Tessa Vance stared at the clean desk opposite hers.

It didn't fit. There was no clutter of files and folders, no mugs with day-old coffee left in them, and no bright yellow post-it notes stuck to the side of the telephone. Square lines, rectangular shapes: the telephone and the laptop – now cleaned of all personal files – were lined up perfectly on the side of the desktop. Prepped and ready for a new day, a new arrival, a new personality.

He's really gone.

Standing still next to her own, far messier desk, Tessa could hardly believe it. In their early days, when things had been rocky and he'd seemed to like nothing more than either bail out or request a different partner, she wouldn't have been surprised. But that'd been years ago. To her, things had changed. They'd found common ground, grown on each other, and might even call themselves the best of friends. Although it wasn't uncommon for partners to form a strong bond, she'd thought…

Tessa sighed. She didn't know what she'd thought. It'd seemed important at one point, but now all her mind could do was draw a complete blank. The words wouldn't come through the haze and give her the satisfaction of an answer. All they did instead was rattle off facts she could probably recite in her sleep.

Like how it wasn't uncommon for people to come and go in Homicide.

How one way or another, this job always sunk its teeth in you, and you either rolled with it, fought against it, or left it behind.

"I'm sorry. I can't do this anymore."

Familiar hollowness seeped into her bones as the memory wedged itself deeper in her head. Tessa clutched the cardboard box in her arms a little tighter to her chest, gaze back on Steve's empty desk.

"You all right?"

Tessa startled at the sudden intrusion into her private reminiscence. To the side, Constable Dee Suzeraine peered at her above a frown, genuine worry in her face.

"I'm fine." Tessa smiled, but it came out all wrong. Dee's brow furrowed even more and the redheaded constable crossed her arms. Tessa let out an immediate and annoyed huff, familiar frustration breaking through the haze. "Really, Dee, I'm fine. I'm just tired. It's been a long day."

More like a week, her inner commentary said. Months.

Or years.

"Right… Well, you know he could do that himself." Dee pointed to the box of Steve's personal belongings in Tessa's hold, a glint of something in her eyes. "He's not helpless."

"I know," said Tessa curtly, hugging the box a bit closer. "It's one less thing for him to worry about, though. He's got enough on his mind with the move and all." She hesitated. "Besides, it's the least I could do—"

"The least you could do?" Dee's eyes nearly bulged as her voice grew a suddenly hard edge to it. "The guy left. That's on him. You should get him to pick up his own ruddy stuff, not rub it in your face."

"Dee…"

"No, you listen, Tessa." Dee's face flushed red with anger, and her hands were fisting at her sides apart from when she jabbed her finger towards the empty desk. "You don't deserve this. He should've—"

"Should've what?" Tessa's own tenuous control on anger snapped like a twig under foot, and she wanted to slam the cardboard box onto her desk in want of the real target. "Dee, he's got every right to quit this job. And given everything he's seen — been through — I don't blame him."

If anything, she should've figured this one out earlier. He'd talked about some wistful dreams of his before. Dreams that'd been placed far from here. Out of reach. And during the last year especially, she'd seen the toll this job had taken on him. Had seen him land that one case all detectives hoped they wouldn't, and which'd stolen near everything — including his life — from him. She'd hoped the trauma counselling would help, but…

He's had one foot out the door for ages.

"I don't get you, Tessa." There was no humour or concern in Dee's voice now; it had a marked edge to it. A defeated yet passionate simmer, with a touch of disbelief at what it perceived before it. "You're just letting him go. And walk all over you in the process."

Tessa said nothing, the previous storm diving back under the blank haze she couldn't penetrate.

"Guess five years of loyalty aren't everything, eh?" With a scoff, Dee shook her head. Then she left without another word, the glass doors almost slamming behind her.

In her wake, Tessa clutched the cardboard box with a vice-like grip.

"I'm sure she didn't mean it all."

Tootsie's gaze was, as ever, both penetrative and kind, and far too perceptive for her own good. Yet Tessa couldn't muster the energy to rebuff her and instead stared into her half-empty wine glass, wondering if the roles should be reversed; she certainly felt half-empty too.

"Give her time," Tootsie said gently and reached along the back of the sofa to touch Tessa's shoulder in comfort. "Dee's known him for a long time and they've always had a good rapport. She'll miss him."

And I won't?

Tessa played with her glass, swirling the murky contents. "I'll miss him too."

"…I know." The hand upon Tessa's shoulder squeezed once, but didn't pull back. "It's been about five years, hasn't it?"

"My whole time at Homicide," Tessa murmured. So far was implied.

It seemed such a strange concept now; as unreal as the fact that right at this very moment, her partner and perhaps closest friend of those five years was packing up his life in boxes. By the end of the week, it wouldn't just be the office desk that'd be empty. His house, this city: they'd be suffering a loss too.

"Many ups and downs," Tootsie said in that sort of tone that hinted at something else between the lines. When Tessa looked up at her, the same was reflected on her face, along with that inherently sense of goodness that the pathologist so often exuded in her presence. "Shame it didn't get to end on some more…well, happier notes."

Tessa's throat tightened, and the rest of the wine was down her gullet before she'd realised it. Her eyes teared at the pain of forcing the liquid past the lump stuck there, but once it swirled around her stomach, the heat of the alcohol warming her from within, the tears ceased and she could breathe again.

None of which went unnoticed.

"Tessa…" The hesitance was clear, and she couldn't really blame Tootsie for it. She'd never made it easy on her. On any of her friends and colleagues. Cards were meant to be kept close to the chest, if only to avoid the mistakes of her past. That's how she'd played the game.

And now she'd lost.

"It's not your fault, you know." Tootsie's voice was kind, soft, and driving a stake so deep into Tessa's chest that her eyes welled up in a split second. "You've done all you could."

Have I?

Had she truly exhausted all options? Gone beyond her calling? Pushed the boundaries of probability and possibility? Tessa didn't know, but she recalled every roadblock and each turning point from the past three months especially, and they all turned over and over in her mind like a Rubik's Cube that just wouldn't be fixed.

"Hey…"

Tootsie's hand squeezed her shoulder again, making Tessa's watery eyes blink and shed some stray tears. She looked at the pathologist, throat clenching, body beginning to shake in anticipation of whatever Tootsie would say next.

"He's stronger now." Another squeeze, but this time coupled with a gentle yet aching smile as Tootsie stared straight into her soul. "You can let him go."

It broke the dam.

Finally.

The moving van was already speeding down Arthur Street: off towards a new life and new possibilities. A life without Homicide. Steve's car was waiting behind him, the engine running – ready to take off as soon as possible. It stressed her out.

"You're gonna be fine, then?" Tessa shifted on her feet, arms crossed tight across her chest.

"Yeah. Eventually."

His hands were tucked into his pockets and Steve Hayden had never looked more gorgeous. Even with a gaunt and wearied face, a spark had been relit in his eyes, and Tessa found she could live with anything that made him happy. That's what she'd always wanted for him.

"You should come visit sometime." Steve gave her a small smile as he scraped the ground with his shoe. Sneakers – not the dark shoes he had to wear to work. There was nothing remotely similar to a Homicide detective in front of her if not in his slightly tense posture. A blue sweater and corduroy trousers had replaced white shirt, navy suit and striped tie. Even his hair was slightly ruffled.

"I could show you the farm," continued Steve and Tessa shook herself out of her momentary reverie. She met his eyes and managed a small chuckle.

"As long as you don't try that 'more stars in the country' routine. It's getting old."

It earned her a slight grin and she felt better, less empty, but the feeling soon drained away as he glanced at the running car behind him, clearly impatient to get on his way.

"I won't hold you up any longer," Tessa told him. "It's a long drive and you're probably eager to see your mum and dad again."

She was slightly taken aback when his smile faltered a bit and an indescribable look crossed his features. He scraped the earth again and hunched his shoulders, losing some of the spark in his eyes. Was that…?

"Have a good trip," Tessa said too brightly, realising her mistake only when his eyes met hers again.

No, she told her raw and exposed heart, desperate to keep its painful throb — and accompanying tears — at bay. Keep it together. Keep it together. Keep it—

The rest of her mantra disappeared into a sudden, encompassing hug that was like nothing and everything they'd done before. Tessa sunk into it at once, feeling such a strong physical pull to hold on and never let go that she felt certain they'd somehow moult into the ground and remain solid.

But the way Steve's nose snuggled into the crook of her neck brought a sense of finality into the air around them, and to Tessa's shaking limbs, and she knew: this was never meant to last. She couldn't leave Homicide, and he couldn't stay, so when they drew back, that'd be it. No more turning points. No second chances.

Only full steam ahead on paths they'd chosen themselves, leaving this moment — these seconds — as their last goodbye.

The tears fell silently down her cheeks as Tessa returned the hug fiercely; somehow pouring her everything into it, and with Steve's grip just as tight. She kept back the sob, but he still ran a gentle hand over her hair, pulling her close for another moment…

And then suddenly the pressure was gone and only cool wind caressed her wet cheeks.

Steve stood between the open car door and the car, staring back at her with that same indiscernible look from earlier, before smiling gently at her. "Keep in touch."

Tessa swallowed her tears and tried to smile, even if she was sure it came out all wrong. "You too."

Another heartbeat of silence and then Steve simply nodded and got into the car, closing the door. Tessa gave him a short wave after he got buckled in, and then he was pulling out on Arthur Street, following in the wake of the moving van towards a new life without Homicide.

Without her.