A/N so this is short. I know. It's called I wrote 90 percent of this during lectures when I was supposed to be paying attention to stuff about politics. I was either writing, or in the case of the State Department, sleeping (I swear, they make those chairs comfortable so that other members of the state department can sleep through those meetings, cause if all the state department people are as boring as the one I heard, well, let's just say you don't miss anything important by sleeping.)
"Sick of Boston, or sick of what's in Boston?" He asked, walking through the connecting door to their rooms, leaning against the door frame. She shrugged as she unpacked some clothes.
"What's the difference?" She asked, tossing another pair of jeans into the dresser.
"Fifty years from now Boston will still be there, most of what's in Boston will not be. You can always get rid of what's in the city, but you can't get rid of the city, you can't get rid of you're home." She turned to face him and sat on the bed.
"I couldn't take it anymore." She said as he sat down next to her.
"What?" He asked her.
"You, being gone, and Slokum in your place, the man is evil Garret., he's out to prove you wrong. I quit only because he was going to fire me." He put a consoling arm around her, enjoying the feel of her head leaning against his chest.
"But why run?" He asked her, and she shrugged.
"No one left in Boston." He glared at her.
"Aren't you forgetting Nigel, Bug, Lilly, me?"
"It doesn't matter. I love you all but-" He cut her off.
"What the hell did Woody do?" He asked, knowing full well that this had something to do with the baby faced young detective.
"He told me to leave, that he doesn't want me, he doesn't love me." She looked ready to break. "He told me to leave, and I came back and he told me that he was serious that he doesn't want me, that he's sick of running around each other so we're better off apart." He held her close as the threatening tears spilled out. "I love him, but it doesn't matter anymore." He pulled her close and frowned.
He was going to kill that boy. Woody had not only pushed her out of the boy's own life, but out of everyone else's. He wanted to fly back and physically beat some sense into the boy, but resisted that urge. Instead he contented himself with consoling her, holding her close and trying not to let her go, not to let the real world get to her.