Author's Note: Dun-dun-dun-duuun. I lied again. Although lying requires intent, and this was not intentional as I had no second chapter planned. But then it just flowed out in nearly one piece, as opposed to the first part. I had no choice, Your Honour, I swear. Anyway, thank you for your feedback on the first chapter, and I would be super happy about any comments!

"I love you too, Brian. Always will."

The words rolled off her tongue with surprising ease, although he didn't fail to notice the glint of tears in her eyes. She said them with a strange sincerity, without holding back or resisting. They were the truth and the end. They were not what he had expected from her. They were "thank you", "I'm sorry" and "farewell", both a sign of certainty and of giving in. They were the final drop. His throat constricted, so he did what he did best, leaning in, taking her face into his gloved hands and placing a kiss just above her brow, because he couldn't possibly kiss her on the lips now, not without dragging this out unnecessarily. Somehow, it felt more personal this way, more like them in their safe cuddling zone. She smiled a strained smile.

This was not how break-ups were supposed to go. He had his fair share of experience with them, and what the hell, this was not how these things usually went down. Someone should be angry, shouting, blaming, crying or…something. This was more like a prick with a needle at the end of a drawn out dying process. Consensual decoupling, or whatever it was called, was that what they were actually doing here? Without saying it. He couldn't say it. He was relieved, he was sad, he was tired. He had told her at last, at the point when he had had nothing left to lose. It was done. But so were they.

"Let's go." His hand rested on her upper back as they walked, slowly, under the cold streetlights. It was a strangely beautiful night in its merciless frost, its crystal clarity. They were meant to be sitting inside their warm bistro by now, ordering drinks, talking, rambling about work. This was not how this night was supposed to go.

He tried to think of a way back to that other night, the one where he would be holding her as they fell asleep, the one where they wouldn't say it but know what was true without words. The night of comfort and familiarity, the night they hadn't actually had in so long. They couldn't keep doing this. If he hadn't been late, if he wanted kids a little more, if he'd been prepared for the question, if she had told him anything, if she had made a suggestion, if she had stayed for breakfast that day, if she hadn't found that baby, if he had been home more, if he weren't working IA, if they were different people, if Lewis hadn't, if they had done this fifteen years ago, if he were still the person he used to be before Narcotics, if she… He couldn't go there now. He was done, not because he wanted to be done with her, but because she was finally being honest with him, because she wanted more, because she deserved more, because he wanted out. Wanted and didn't want. He couldn't lose her. He couldn't be with her, either.

He was going to open the car door for her, but she was too quick for him, so he stopped reaching for it mid-way. She paused, her hand on the handle. "Bri…" The short syllable caused a little puff of steam in the dry air.

"Yeah?"

"Nothing." She opened the car door without further ado and got in, slamming it shut behind her.

He walked around the car, getting in on the driver's side. The verhicle held some residual heat from his drive here. Always will. Yes, and him, too. His brain pondered words that would fix this. 'I want to grow old with you.' Once upon a time, he had thought about it. Lately, it had become less clear. If he was going to grow old with anyone, it would be her, but there was no mental image that went with it, no future that he could picture aside from the present where they woke up missing each other, miserable day after day, exchanging five sentences a day tops. Doing that forever and ever wasn't what he wanted. 'Maybe I want kids, I don't know, just not now. Not after all this.' He couldn't say that. There was no "later", not at their age, and there was no "not after all this" that wouldn't hurt her or sound like blame or irreparable damage. 'I want us to work.' True, he did, but he had been pretty clear about that, trying to sit down and talk with her for weeks, yet somehow it had never worked out. She had been thinking, she had said, and that thinking hadn't included him. She had come to a decision, and he didn't want her to change her mind out of habit, because he was comfortable or because they had helped each other out. She wanted more. And he didn't want to keep thinking about what not to say all the time, tiptoeing around. He wanted peace.

"Where to now?" he asked before turning the ignition key. Suddenly, it was less clear than it had seemed an hour ago.

"Dinner?" The suggestion was almost timid, and she turned her face away quickly as he looked at her, fumbling with her seatbelt for an unnecessary amount of time.

"Sounds good." He wasn't very hungry, but dinner was familiar. It was the normal thing to do. The world wasn't completely upside down. Always will.

"Actually…" She turned back to face him, and he could see that her supposedly perfectly waterproof eye make-up was slightly smudged where she had touched it. "Do you mind if we just eat at home?"

"Sure. Whatever you want." Home. A year ago, he would never have expected the two of them to have a place to call that, a place of their own. He hadn't done this cohabitation with a girlfriend thing any more than she had. It had been born out of necessity. And still it felt so normal by now, having something to come home to, seeing her even if they rarely talked these days. What would happen to their place now? Things had moved beyond the point of a simple untangling. There wasn't just his and hers anymore, there was an ours. The realisation that all that was gone now hit him like a kick in the nuts.

"I want you to keep the apartment." He had to get the words out now, before it became too easy to avoid the subject and just live on pretending like this conversation hadn't happened. It was like ripping off a band-aid, he told himself. Just like that. Although ripping off a band-aid hurt, so he wasn't entirely sure what that phrase was supposed to express.

"Are we doing this now?" She sounded incredulous, almost offended. Almost like she hadn't been the one to suggest that maybe there was someone better out there for each of them.

"It's gonna suck whenever we do it."

She tsk-ed at him. "Suck…"

"You keep the apartment."

"No."

"Yes!"

"It wouldn't be right. It's…our place…"

"You fucking love that place." He remembered how her face had lit up the first time they had seen it, more so than it had done in months, the way they had told themselves a million times that it was too expensive for them, that it wasn't sensible, her little charts on a notepad that said just that, and how they had taken them and ceremoniously torn them in half.

"You do, too."

"It's not the same." He didn't want to spell out how he knew that she would never feel comfortable moving into somewhere else by herself right now, a new place, getting used to its lock, its corners, its sounds and feels, its darkness at night. It took a lot for her to feel safe these days. There was no need to remind her of that. "You take it."

"I can't afford it on my own."

"Don't worry about it. I'll-"

"No, you won't. I couldn't."

"Please. I want you to have it. I guess I don't want it to be gone." That part was true. There was no way he would live there without her; that place was all her. "It will be nice to think that you're living there."

She gave him a queer look, her mouth opening and closing. "I'll try to find a way."

Everything died eventually. It wasn't a heart-wrenching tragedy, but a fact that made him feel hollow. When they pulled up to a stoplight, he reached over for her hand. She was still here. She was looking well, he realized, what with the fancy hair and the sparkling eyes and the investment in her work. He didn't need to stick around, not if she didn't want him to, not if he didn't want to. She wanted things, things he wasn't sure he wanted anymore. Maybe he had desired them once upon a time, but that had been before, before undercover assignments and pimps and drugs and the rush of adrenaline he got out of that work in the streets, before the unsteadiness. He didn't know what the hell he wanted beyond movement, a change of some sort. No more curveballs.

"Why do you need me to go?" The way she puts it, it sounds like she is asking God why he is punishing her with some huge evil.

"Because my other girlfriend's busy on Sunday?"

"Hm, maybe I can go hang out with her then."

He grabs another wine glass from the box, twirling it around his hand before putting it down in the cupboard simply because he knows it pisses her off. "Come on, it won't be so bad. I'll protect you."

She is glaring at him, taking an empty cardboard box off the table to make room. "You'd love that, wouldn't you."

"You've met her before." Briefly. The last time his mother was in town three months earlier, she came by his apartment unannounced, running into a stunned Olivia. Things weren't made easier by her well-meaning "I'm so sorry about everything that happened, that must be so hard", and after some extremely awkward small talk, Olivia excused herself, causing a chain of concerned inquiries from his mom. But that shouldn't happen again, he has made sure of it, and he is probably more eager than he should be to prove to his mother that they are doing fine, that no one here is suffering from major mental health issues and she can stop asking him if he is "sure about this".

"Don't remind me."

"She just wants to get to know who I'm moving in with, because you're…"

"I'm what?" she asks, a playful smile on her lips.

"Well." Damn, he got himself into a corner there. "You're…my girlfriend." He suddenly feels like a 12-year-old telling a girl that he "like-likes" her. And she is enjoying this way too much, but what else can he say that won't turn this into the "where is this going" conversation that they are trying hard to avoid? At this point, neither one of them is pretending that this is a fling, but it still feels like they are in survival mode.

"Nice observation."She sets down the tape cutter she has been using to open another box, and comes to stand in front of him, wrapping her arms around his neck. There is something mischievous in her expression, and yes, when she leans in to kiss him, operation distraction has definitely begun. Her lips are soft, her back feels warm under his hands, and it would be so easy to just forget about Sunday…

"Nice try. Look, it's no big deal, just lunch." He doesn't get why this is such a terribly huge thing to her.

"I know." She draws back slightly, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders.

"Look, my mom loves me, I'm her only child, her precious son, and she pretty much thinks I'm a decorated NYPD hero or something-"

"Now I know where that ego comes from…"

"-so by extension, she'll love you." He doesn't know if it's the "love" or the family thing, but something about that has freaked her out, he can tell from how he tenses up. "But if you don't want to come-"

"I'll come."

"You will?"

She shrugs, a pained expression on her face. "I have to hear this talk about her precious hero baby boy."

"Um, yeah, just so you know, I don't encourage it."

She lets out a soft chuckle. "Sure you don't, babe. Doesn't sound like you at all."

He draws her close again, wrapping his arms around her waist. She feels warm.

"Eyes on the road" she reminded him as the lights turned green.

He gave her gloved hand a squeeze before letting go. They drove in silence for a while, watching as the streetlights blurred outside. There wasn't much left to be said. He felt like there should be something left to say, some deep, unspoken thing he had been holding back maybe and that he would never get a chance to tell her now, but nothing came to mind. The heat of the car made him drowsy, so he turned it down.

"I'm sorry it didn't work out." She said it matter-of-factly, although it had clearly taken her a while to consider this.

"Me too. But I'd do it again, anyway."

"Do it again?"

"Well…not everything…" No, he couldn't go through the past few months a second time, that was not how he had meant it. She would misunderstand him, and now this would all turn into yet another fight and…

"But us. Yeah, me too." She leaned back her head, sighing. "I do love you, you know."

"I love you, too." He was glad of the excuse to say it again. Once it was out there, it seemed ridiculously easy. There was nothing to be afraid of.

"But there's no point if we're unhappy."

"None at all." They hadn't agreed this much about anything in…well, ever. He had read somewhere once that you couldn't expect to be happy all the time, that that wasn't what life was about. It seemed like the kind of quote of the day you might read at the waiting room of a doctor's office. But hadn't they earned their right to happiness at last? When would it finally be their turn? One of these days, you had to get it, didn't you? He didn't want complicated anymore. Simple happiness for a simple guy, that was how it should go. It was hard to believe that that didn't entail her, that they wouldn't somehow, somewhere, years from now, remain connected.

"You've been good to me." Something about that didn't feel like a compliment, but like a debt.

"So have you. Hey, can we not get all…sentimental here? I'm trying to drive." For months, he had wanted her to talk to him, but now that she was doing it, it felt wrong. He didn't want this.

"Okay." She exhaled deeply, leaning on her elbow against the window. "Okay."

Always will. If she had left out that last part. If they had talked earlier. If he had the energy left to fight. If things were different.