Word Count: 741
Summary: Home was right behind me.
Disclaimer: I don't own Crossing Jordan or the characters.

You once told me home was right behind me. And I hugged you and kissed you, and I held you. And then we walked down that pier, and all I could think was how happy you made me feel when you were just being yourself, asking me for help on a case when no one else would.

A few years later I still had in my mind that home was Boston, that home was wherever you were at.

And when I told you I didn't want to be another man who resented needing you, I meant it. I guess that's why I said all those things in the hospital. I didn't want you to feel stuck with me. You deserved someone who could go after you every single time you run.

So, now that we are going back to a place where I can safely say we're friends, I know we aren't those friends from all those years ago at the pier.

And for that reason, I don't know where home is anymore. Home is somewhere in the past. Home is the house I lived at when I was a child before my mother died and everything became so complicated. Home was all those years ago at the pier when I told you I wasn't sure about what I was doing, and you told me home was right behind me. It was.

But it no longer is.

Home is such a complicated concept. I guess it makes sense that I consider someone as complicated as you as home.

And as I look at the road ahead of me, I wonder if I'm doing the right thing by leaving what I once considered home. I guess a part of me wonders why I hadn't left a few years ago after the shooting. Why I bothered so much in trying to get back to the place we once were, just to leave?

But the same part of me that wonders why I didn't leave a few years ago just tells me I wanted to see if I could mend things. And that I don't really want to leave.

However, seeing you grieving him and, I guess me grieving her, just makes that part of me wonder if staying is the right thing. Even if she was never 'home', and I honestly don't know how you felt about him – or me, even, not anymore anyway – I guess I cared for her. And you cared for him. And we will never go back to being those people at the pier.

Which I guess is a good thing. Too much history and screw-ups – on both parts – to be able to go back there.

So, in order to try and make things easier, I'll leave. I think you deserve much better than the man I became. And the man I might one day become, I don't think he'll deserve you.

And because of that, I'm leaving. Boston, and you, and our friends. The memories of us dancing at the Pogue after closing, us solving cases together. All those memories, I feel I tarnished after the shooting. And in its place are the memories of you walking away after arguments, not fighting back like before. There's the memory of the ring. There's the memory of Lu getting shot at and you crying over her body.

There's us grieving her in your office.

I can't do this anymore. Boston isn't home anymore, and neither are you. Maybe someday we could, down the road. But I don't think I can try to get to that place anymore.

I love you. I really do. And there was this part of me once upon a time that saw you wearing white one day, with your arm linked with your father's. Of a little girl that looked just like you. Of us growing old someday.

I'd picture you as a mother when no one else would. That's why I wrote the recommendation letter for Kayla. I could see you being that girl's mom.

But not anymore. Not to our kids anyway.

I can only see Boston in the rearview mirror now. I guess now you are a part of my past, which I never thought I'd say.

Leaving what once was home, to try and find someplace that can resemble what once was.

I guess you were right all those years though. Maybe, home is right behind me. I just can't see anymore.

The End

I watched 'Sunset Division' after rewatching season 5, and I couldn't help but write this because I missed the simple moments of their relationship.