Wounded Heart
-2-
Disclaimer: I own nothing. If i did, the episode would have ended oh so differnetly, and Drew Fuller would be mine.
She was standing on a bridge, a precipice of choice. All she had to do to keep things the same was to just not pick up that phone…and yet she was holding it in her hands all the same.
There are some numbers you don't ever forget no matter how much time passes. Some you can't forget no matter how hard you try to.
Some where deep down, she didn't expect for him to pick up the phone, for him to answer it, and to hear him say, Denise? He always said it the same way, like it was a question, and he was just waiting for the answer.
But not this time.
Getti,
You're not busy.
You're avoiding me.
There was a sad smile in her words; she could hear it as the words left her lips. She was on the other side…after avoiding him for so long…here he was avoiding her. It hurt.
More then she thought it would—could.
I'm sorry…
How could she even blame him. She didn't only break her heart, she broke his too. He loved her, and she ran.
Please call me.
--
questionsquestionsquestions
That's basically all life is, isn't it? Everything is one new question that you don't know the answer to on the test that life is.
I love him, and so I kiss him. Even though he isn't my husband.
I leave him and I still want him.
How can there ever be a right answer? Maybe there are no 'right' answers in life.
Can there be a choice of a right or wrong answer when no matter what you do, no matter what choice you make; you'll hurt someone?
You think that perhaps the best option—the safest option—is to remain stationary, in tandem, to do nothing, to choose neither.
At least this way no one gets hurt.
--
You know how it works the moment you see them. You even see the entire conversation play out in your head before it even happens. You don't even need them to tell you, anything they have to say is unimportant, just details. Who needs the details…either way, your worst nightmare, just happened, didn't it?
Your husband's unit was attacked in Fallujah.
All you can do is nod your head at the buzzing in your ear; you never hear the details even if you want to. Who does? All you want are answers, and this is the Army. Where answers are just more questions.
He's been unaccounted for. We don't know if he is among the wounded or not.
Among the dead. But they never say that unless they're sure.
--
But what happens if that's not your worst nightmare, but relief?
--
Sometimes perfection was perfect.
With Getti it was. The world stopped for just a moment, and in that moment there were no worries, no consequences…things just were.
--
"We'll always have the Julep."
He was thinking as he looked at that damn pancake place, the one where they'd talked…the one that had taken him forever to find, but damn it, the pancakes, and the company had been worth it.
Maybe when he left he should have told her that, he thought as he got on his bike, the one girl he never had to worry about losing. And yet…she wasn't the girl he was worried about losing. He's already lost the one he thought he wouldn't be able to get over.
"We'll always have the Julep."
He should have told her that, it would have made her laugh. He loved her smile, her laugh…he loved every last, little thing about her.
Like how she hated Casablanca. He did too.
And now, here they were, and all they had left…was the Julep, he supposed.
He got on the bike, turned on the ignition, he didn't need food…he just needed to ride. Riding always put everything in perspective
--
Is it the one you commit to, or the one whose face you see in your dreams that you're supposed to be with? Is it even right to commit to someone you don't love…even if you did. People fall in and out of love every day. Maybe what they say is true, no two people can commit to one another for life, people change and evolve, and so marriages…they're destined for failure.
Maybe it was never going to work because she married her father and she wasn't--she never would be--her mother.
She put aside herself, her feelings, for nineteen years…and that façade was cracking. It was looking for a reason to fall apart. Getti was all the reason she needed.
--
For as far back as he could recall, a long stretch of road and his motorcycle could solve any problem that life threw at him.
All he needed was that wind on his face, the bike underneath him, and a stretch of empty road…and there was no problem on earth that was too big.
This was so much more than the normal problem. He couldn't hide from it, he couldn't run from it, he couldn't race it, he couldn't even heal the wounds it left him with.
He loved her.
He didn't know if he could just walk away. He didn't know if he could leave her without a fight.
--
When his phone beeped…
once
twice
three times
…he considered ignoring it.
He couldn't.
It would be the hospital and he would go in, and he'd do his job, and everything would be fine.
He fumbled with his jacket pocket for a moment; he dug the phone out and flipped it open.
Denise
He froze at the sight of her number on the screen.
Its amazing how one little word can mean so much. In the space of maybe three seconds every possibility raced through his mind.
Only one meant anything at all.
She loves me
She chose me
She chose us
--
He didn't see it coming, but he was distracted.
I'm sorry. Please, call me.
He didn't run red lights, but he was dialing Denise's number because he couldn't remember if it was her or his dad on speed dial one. .
It was probably her.
--
He didn't feel anything as the three tons of steel impacted into him and his bike.
He even thought he heard her voice.
--