A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I've been a little... busy... and... yeah. So, anyway, the inspiration for this chapter hit me while I was watching TV. Some baby thing came on and it showed a picture of the husband kissing the wife's baby bump, which I thought was cute, and then BAM! INSPIRATION! Thanks to Simonisthecuttestmentalist (aw, really? tks!), Lisbon94 (I know it was sad, I apologize. Heart ya, chica!), Koezh (thanks so much!), and dirtysnowflake (it only gets more depressing; sorry! :)) for their reviews!
Disclaimer: Do not own it. Never have owned it. Never will own it. Reallyreallyreally want to own it. (I didn't realize that Beginning of the End is also a movie title, and I don't own that, either.)
Warnings: OOC, almost-suicide (Don't I have a lovely imagination?) (Don't answer that.)
This is dedicated to my cousin's fiancee, Leslie, who is one of my best friends in the entire world and the only adult I'm taller than (Love you, Leslie!), my cousin/best friend, Rachael (one black strawberry! hah), and my 10-month-old cousin, Lillian (I love you, sweetheart!).
When she woke, he was gone. This she had expected, but she wasn't prepared for the note he had left behind.
Teresa,
I am ashamed of the way I am treating you and very much aware of how much it hurts. What happened has changed me. I am sincerely sorry for this. If you cannot forgive me, I understand. But please try. For Leslie.
Patrick
"Leslie," she murmured. "Oh, Leslie…"
Three Years Ago
She heard him sneak up behind her, but pretended not to, letting him have his fun.
His arms wrapped around her waist. She smiled.
"Hey, baby," he said playfully, kissing her cheek. He bent and kissed her swollen belly. "Hi, baby," he whispered.
"It's a girl," she told him before she could stop herself. Damn. She had planned to tell him later.
Oh, but the smile on his face made her realize that just then had been the ideal time to tell him.
And there was something else she had to tell him that she was certain wouldn't have him smiling.
"I… I already thought of a name," she said quietly. His smile faded. She hated when she was right. "Is that okay?"
"What is it?"
"Leslie Rachelle." He looked at her, startled. "I thought that if I got it close enough to their names, you'd still accept it," she explained nervously. His daughter's name had been Lilli, and his wife's had been Rachael. If he didn't like the names she had chosen, he could change them. She knew how much more important her pregnancy was to him than herself, and she understood why.
But that was then, and this was now. He had promised (more or less) to put the past behind him and move on with her.
And here he was, hesitating. She should have picked a different name. This was a terrible idea—
"It's beautiful," he murmured.
Her heart soared. "You really like it?" she asked.
"Yes. It's perfect." He hugged her and kissed her forehead. "I hope she has your eyes, and your smile, and—"
"Not my hair," she interrupted.
"Why not?"
"I want her to be blonde, like you. Curls and all."
"I always knew you were jealous," he teased. "Okay, I said two things I hope she has of yours. One more of something you hope she has of mine."
She thought for a moment, then said, "Your gift."
He laughed loudly. "My 'gift,' huh?" he said. "Are you positive you could handle it?"
"You're the one who knows how to control it," she said. "You'll teach her how to use it."
"Teresa, it's not something you inherit," he explicated. "Hell, you could learn it."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that it's something you learn, and it's easy."
"I don't have time to learn anything right now," she muttered. "I have to get to work."
"Teresa—"
"Patrick, we've talked about this. I'll stay at CBI, no action or danger, until I'm six months in. Then you'll have me all to yourself." She glanced at the clock on the wall. "I have to go. Love you."
"Love you, too." He kissed her. "Be careful."
"Always am."
Who would have known: the one day she wasn't careful, she almost died. Almost.
But Leslie Rachelle Jane hadn't been so lucky.
Present
She reread the note, and only then noticed the lack of an "I love you." A single tear fell onto the paper, smearing the ink in "Leslie."
What she wouldn't give to go back to that day and prevent what had happened. Maybe if she had the first time, the love of her life wouldn't have left her. Maybe her then-unborn baby would be two-and-a-half years, twenty-seven days, nine hours, three minutes, and seven seconds old.
And maybe her life would be the one she had always dreamed of.
Ten seconds.
"I love you," she whispered to the air around her. "I miss you," she murmured to the dust motes floating through space. "I hate you," she hissed to herself.
Twenty-seven seconds.
Her life would never be perfect; of that, she was well aware.
But would it be too much trouble for something decent to occur more than once a year?
She couldn't do this. She couldn't live like this anymore.
She was going to end this. There was nothing left for her to live for now… Unless he walked through the door and a child with green eyes and curly, blonde hair toddled in after him.
But she knew that wasn't going to happen. She stood up and found her jersey, slipping it on as she walked to the bedroom door. She made her way downstairs and to the drawer where she kept her Glock. She pulled it out and cocked it, putting the barrel to the side of her head. She tightened her grip on the trigger.
Looking around her beloved apartment, her gaze locked on a picture on the wall.
Her in a wedding dress. Him in a tuxedo. They were kissing.
Her grasp on the trigger loosened. Her eyes wandered to another photo: They were both laughing. He had a hand on her pregnant belly. Her hand was resting on his.
She took her finger off the trigger and put the gun down.
What had she been thinking? Just because her life wasn't the way she wanted it be—yet again—it didn't mean she had to kill herself. She would get through it. She always got through it.
She just wished she had someone to get through it with.
A/N: I don't hate Leslie, I just named the dead baby after her. I don't hate Rachael, I just named the dead wife after her. I don't hate Lillian, I just named the dead child after her. (wow... just... wow. No other comment about what I just wrote...)
Please review, I really need reviews right now... I am operating on half an hour of sleep (and no brains, as my friends like to say) today. Curse addicting energy drinks!
