This one's only little, but I love it all the same. It was written sometime before S2, in response to a prompt with the dialogue from the third line.

Enjoy x


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"I never wanted this."

Sucking in an unsteady breath, Weller stared down at where she lay, the pain in his chest spreading slowly outward until he could feel nothing else.

"I tried to hate you. I really did. But every time I thought of you, the only thing I felt was–" Love, his mind finished for him, but the word stuck in his throat, tearing him even further apart inside. Blinking back against the sudden burn of tears, he swallowed hard, then at last choked out the words he'd never gotten to say to her.

"I loved you, Jane. And I'm so, so sorry."

Tearing his eyes from the newly carved headstone– inscribed with just her name and date of death, no birth date, nothing about the FBI, nothing to say all that she had been to him– he dropped his head, his shoulders shaking as the tears finally began to fall, running silently down his cheeks to drop onto the freshly turned earth beneath his feet.

"I'm so sorry."

Just over a dozen yards away, Jane started forward– but was abruptly halted by Roman's hand on her shoulder, his grip gentle but firm as he drew her back.

"Don't, Jane. You know why this has to happen. If you truly want this all to be over, if you want him to stay safe, then it has to be this way."

Clenching her jaw, Jane nodded, roughly brushing the tears from her cheeks.

"I know you're right. I just–"

"You love him," Roman finished for her, his voice gentle. "I understand, Jane. But you came to him through impossible circumstances before– not once, but twice. You'll find your way back to him again, I know you will."

Her eyes still locked on Weller's back, she let out a shuddering breath, then at last forced herself to turn away, her shoulders straightening, her expression hard.

"Let's go end this."

Almost three weeks later, bleeding and broken and barely conscious, she found her way to his door, his expression thunderstruck as he found her swaying on his doorstep.

"I love you," were the only words to pass her lips before she blacked out, her legs at last giving way beneath her.

She never felt him catch her and carry her inside, never felt the desperate way his hands pressed against her wounds as he waited impatiently for the ambulance, never felt the touch of his lips and whispered prayers against her skin as they raced to the hospital.

But when she woke, the first thing she felt was his hand in hers.

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Thanks for reading! I promise a longer one next week.