A/N: Drabble! Just post Lost City angst.
Tokens.
Tokens are all I have left of the man I love.
He's frozen in Antarctica, trapped by an ancient artifice that I've struggled and fought and begged to release him. This is it, I've failed him. There's no other explanation. So, now I'm sitting in some temporary, shitty quarters in this frozen hellhole, going over every little gift he's ever given me.
A picture- the four of us sitting together at O'Malley's. It was my second year on the team. I remember that night, one of the few we actually spent like normal people. He touched my hand, and it felt like electricity.
A five-dollar bill- I beat him at the range that one night. Sometimes, I think he lost deliberately. I think it's the only time we spent together, alone, not being hunted or threatened by eminent death. Just him and me, together, shooting. Not terribly romantic, but hey. A girl will take what she can get.
A borrowed CD (never returned). The case is cracked, and the inserts are gone. I think it's Willie Nelson.
A few emails. It took him forever to start using computers. When he did, the first thing eh sent me was spam, too. A chainletter, ending with the punchline "Good friends help you move. Great friends help you move bodies. Just tell me if I need to bring a shovel." It made me laugh at the time, but I can't help wondering if there were subtexts, a deeper message that he was trying to send me. I guess I'll never know now.
So, I'm sitting here, freezing with the relics of a relationship I denied myself for years, and it's too late. Too late to give back the CD, too late to ask him for a rematch at the range, too late for another email. The worst part is that I did this to myself. It only hurts because I was an idiot and denied myself my man. If I had just let myself go...then at least I'd have hope, right?