A/N-See? Fluff! Fluffy! Oooh! bunny! Ok, I've just downed 16 oz of sugar in the form of a WaWa slurpee. It's also 1130 at night and I still haven't seen the new ep. Don't expect coherant author's notes, I'm busy writing something even fluffier, and plotting my NaNo...oh, right, about that, don't expect anything new over the month of november, I'm busy writing NaNo, not fanfic...And Jinubean-this is MORE than an alternate ending. This is alternate ending that became sequel. I still wanted Garret to die. I almost ended this with him getting hit by a bus before I remembered that this is Crossing Jordan, not Final Destination...
"You know leaving the house might do you some good." She said, looking at him. He looked at the door.
"Sitting here's comfortable." He complained and she shook her head.
"Do I have to drag you out? Just a walk or something, get some fresh air. It's a gorgeous spring day." He shrugged. "Get up and get your lazy ass out of here." She said, opening the door and holding it open. He frowned and rolled his eyes at her before grudgingly getting up and heading out the door.
"Happy?" He asked as they headed down the stairs. She was right, it was a beautiful spring day. Not yet hot enough to be annoying, but just warm enough to not require a jacket. The two of them walked down the familiar busy streets in companionable silence, taking in the spring air.
They found themselves strolling down to Kenmore Square, stopping by one of the many street vendors for lunch, sitting on a bench and watching the passers by as they ate. "See? This isn't so bad." She said and he shrugged. "You know, you're worse than Lewis Jefferies. At least Lewis, once he was outside, wasn't so bad." He smiled, somewhat.
"Better?" She laughed.
"I suppose." She replied, tossing the end of her hot dog roll to the pigeons.
"Hey, I'm out of the house, per your forcing me out, but I'm out. I'm dressed, out here, and actually cracked a smile." He smiled again. "See, smiling." She laughed again.
"Very good, very good. You're improving." He shrugged. "How are you doing?" She asked and he shrugged again.
"My head hurts like hell." He winced as he went to rub it and she merely rolled her eyes.
"What, you expected it to feel better than ever? Maybe that taught you a lesson." He stared down at the ground. This was not a conversation he wanted to be having. He wanted to forget about it, move on. He didn't want her to be bringing it up, he didn't want anyone to bring it up. It would be his little secret, no one else would know about it aside from her, he could write off the scar as being a number of things.
But he didn't want to be having this conversation, especially not here, in public. If he was going to say anything about what he had done it would be in private, not in public, where the world would know what he did. He didn't do it for the attention, he wasn't some angsty goth teenager, he had just wanted out. And if she truly wanted to see him better, she would drop talking about it.
He didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to think about it She wanted him to move on and he was going to. He was going to move on and act like it never even happened. Just get right back into life. The only thing he could do if she wanted to see him get better, to move on. She wanted him to stop being what he had become, go back to what he had been, and the only way to do that was to forget about it.
Forget about the past few months and his slow decline. Forget about the bottles and bottles of scotch. Forget about his car, the scalpel, the gun. Forget about the two bodies on steel gurneys laying there, cold, unfeeling, staring at the ceiling. Forget about the gorgeous oak coffin laying in the ground, the picture that he hadn't had the heart to look at and the acceptance letter that still sat in the back corner of his junk drawer, put out of sight.
"You know, I still need to get a new car." He said as he thought about it. Public transportation worked well enough to get him where he needed to go, but there was that certain stigma that was attached to a car, the feeling of freedom that it gave him, that if nothing else, he could get into it and drive far, far away, if he couldn't stand it anymore he could do something that she did and run off in the night.
"You want to go look for one?" He shrugged.
"Maybe." He replied. He tried to even get an idea of what he wanted. A convertible, that would be nice. Small, sporty, like his old Aston Martin. Maybe even another Aston Martin. He had loved that car, the new Vanquish was a gorgeous car. It wasn't really like he had that many constraints, he'd spent more money than he had in most of his life over the past few months, almost all of it on booze, and he still had more than he knew what to do with.
He didn't spend much of it, originally he had been saving it for Abby, first for college and then so that she'd have it for when she reached later on in life. But now he didn't have her to spend it on and he still wasn't spending much of it. He had used a good bit to buy his condo, but he had already paid it off and still had plenty. He wasn't fond of spending money left and right-he spent enough to keep himself well, nothing more and nothing less. He found no reason to spend money. He kept it, in case of something going horribly wrong. Even if he hadn't gotten his job back he wouldn't have needed to work, he had enough to last him comfortably.
"C'mon, it'll get your mind off of other things." She was already getting up and walking away, leaving him to follow, trying to think if he had any idea of what exactly he wanted.