Disclaimer: characters aren't mind, story is.

Spoilers: everything up to Commencement.

Wrong Question

She doesn't get him.

If she did, she wouldn't ask you if you loved him.  She wouldn't have to. She'd know it wouldn't matter.

But she doesn't get him and she doesn't know you, because if she did, she would have asked a different question.

Do you love him?

The simple answer is yes, but nothing in your world is simple.

Yes doesn't cover the fact that realizing there was something starting between you sent you scrambling back to an emotionally abusive ex, while still giving you the strength to leave a second time and come back to him.

Only you both agreed that nothing would happen.

That you could be professionals.

And for the most part, you were, the only hints of more in the flirtatious banter you share.  Of course there were nights when you shared more.

They were few and far between that first year; you even tried to get him interested in Joey Lucas because you thought she was the type of woman he should be with.

And the Roslyn happened, and your worlds changed.

You know things would be different if it wasn't for that night.

A part of you thinks you would have made a go of it.  That you would have transferred or taken one of the job offers that have come your way over the years, but couldn't bring yourself to leave because you never forgave yourself for not being there.

You fought over that once.

It was one night when he accused you of pitying him during his recovery. You laid into him before running out and ending up at Toby's in tears.

(Something you never told him.)

You started spending less time with him then. 

Relaxed your guard and just assumed his attitude would past.

By Christmas Eve you knew differently.

And that night you slipped into old patterns, and yet it was different.  You found solace but didn't connect, and yet it was OK.

Only it wasn't.

Because now you never even acknowledge this thing between you.

It's been like you couldn't ever since.

You hurt each other now.

You make sure the other knows when you're involved.

You tried to be discrete about Cliff and that one night. 

Then you lied because you knew the diary contained the complex answers to the question everyone thinks but only she had the balls to ask.

So now you stand there biting you lip as you contemplate an answer.

Do you tell her you were the first after the shooting?

That it broke you heart to help him set up Tahiti night?

That you believe that she started out as his revenge for Calley?

That it's your bed he comes to after collective wins and loses, and --- yes, as much as you hate to admit it--- after their fights?

That the last one makes you hate her and question everything you've ever felt for him, and yet you can't find it in you to turn him away.

Do you love him?

Of course you do or else you wouldn't still be here.

But what she should've asked was: will you fight for him?

And that you could've answered: Only if he gives you a reason to. . .