Author's note: Here's a quick (but important, I think) update. Sorry for the delay, but things have been crazy, and are likely to remain so for the foreseeable future. I promise I will try to get the next chapter up as soon as I can. Beware – there are some more naughty words in this one…
He had stopped pacing, and now leaned his back against the wall, hands deep in his pockets.
"I could find out from someone else who was there."
"Then do it."
"I would rather hear it from you."
He sighed, and glanced out the window. She knew the longer he was silent, the harder it would be to get him talking again, not that he had been particularly forthcoming so far.
"What happened when she stopped breathing?"
He said nothing.
"Harry…"
"We tried to bring her back. Dimitri gave her adrenaline, but that didn't work. Chest compressions didn't work either. She just slipped away…"
"Harry, look at me."
He did, reluctantly.
"You did everything you could."
He looked unconvinced.
"What happened next?"
He shrugged.
"I held her."
"Did you cry?"
"Yes."
"But not since."
"No."
"What else? Did you talk to her, say goodbye maybe?"
He shot her a glance that said clearly that he would never say.
"Sasha Gavrik."
"What about him?"
"What happened to him?"
"Nothing."
"You mean to tell me that the man who killed your lover…"
He looked like he was going to say something, but she pressed relentlessly.
"He killed Ruth, and you did nothing?"
"No."
"Then what? What did you do to Ruth's murderer?"
"I took a gun from Callum and…"
"Shot him?" she prompted.
"No…but God, I wanted to…she was lying there, still warm, and he starts on about the pain in his leg…son of a bitch…"
"Why didn't you shoot him, Harry?"
He shook his head slowly.
"Erin got in the way."
"I doubt that would've stopped you."
"Meaning I didn't want to."
She shrugged.
"You've killed people before. Probably more than I know about," she tapped a pile of folders on her desk.
"It's all about patterns, Harry. I want to know why you didn't shoot him when you could've done easily so."
He swallowed hard and glanced out the window again. The sun was lower in the sky, bathing the surrounding buildings in an almost unearthly light. She let him find his words, knowing that if she pressed too hard now he would never open up again.
"I had the gun pointed at him and I was going to pull the trigger, but…all I could see was her blood…on my hands."
"And that's when you put the gun to your head?" she asked softly.
He merely closed his eyes in assent.
The only sound in the room was the ticking of a small clock behind the desk. He was breathing as if he had been running, and his hands were shaking. She had moved to the window now as well, and she watched as the late afternoon light slowly changed from yellow to orange.
"Tell me," she said in little more than a whisper.
His eyes remained closed as he spoke quietly, and slowly, choosing his words carefully.
"I fucked up…every important thing, every one I loved…I just wanted peace…she understood…forgave, even…I wanted to, so much."
He opened his eyes but continued to direct his gaze outside.
"If I had done it, her sacrifice would've been for nothing. Just another way for me to let her down."
