The Morning After
When he woke he heard rain, the dim, dreary light made it impossible to pinpoint how late they had slept. He had never been so glad for Saturday, while they both knew they would eventually go to work, no one was counting on them to be there at an early hour. Last night had been amazing, not just making love to her, but the fact that she finally told him a piece of truth. He had been able to show her that anything she told him wouldn't push him away. Each insight, each moment, only made him love her more. Nuzzling her neck once more he rolled out of the bed.
The movement of the bed gently brought her back to consciousness. The fear in the pit of her stomach returned. Nothing he said could ever make it really dissipate. Now she knew the truth, he hated the secrets. Secrets he was remembering. After three months she had started to believe that perhaps the past could stay buried with the dead. How naive. They day would come that he would know everything; the day would come when he would be gone.
He entered back into the room carrying two cups of steaming coffee. He wordlessly handed her one, and realized that his reaction to the previous night was vastly different from hers. It seemed that while he felt like he could fly, she was struggling under the weight of the world. Standing there at the foot of the bed, he watched her slowly take a sip. How he wished he knew how to unlock the depths of those endless eyes. For the first time in months, he truly tried to think about the past. Pushing himself to focus only every little glimmer he had seen, to piece together the puzzle of his own mind. Trained in solving crimes, his own life shouldn't be so hard to understand. He sat on the edge of the bed, closed his eyes tightly, desperate to reach that part of his mind that had been trapped.
Author's Note: I Know this is an incredibly short chapter. But the next part seemed more powerful as a stand alone. It will be up first thing tommorrow!