Song: Grace Is Gone
Artist: Dave Matthews Band
Characters: Greg Sanders/Morgan Brody
One drink to remember
Then another to forget
How could I ever dream to find
Sweet love like you again
One drink to remember
Then another to forget
Of The Heart
She told him not to go.
She begged and she pleaded, letting go of that last bit of dignity she was so desperately clinging to. The answer had still been no.
"There's no reason for you to go. Brass and his men are already on it." She tries hard to keep the desperation out of her voice but it cracks on the last word and she curses herself. He's standing in front of her with his mouth agape, shoving his piece in its holster.
"This is my job," he says, somewhat defensively. "I'm not going to sit here and wait for that bastard to get away again." The locker slams shut and he walks past her, his scent lingering. She squeezes her eyes shut and sends up a silent prayer.
If he had just listened to her than this wouldn't be happening.
Worry had torn through her, a feeling of nausea she couldn't shake off settling in the pit of her stomach. She had went to Russell and complained, said he had no reason to be doing a cops job. But what did she know?
"He'll be fine Morgan; he's been doing this for a while. Why don't you go see if Nick needs some help?" the older man waves a dismissive hand at her, bright smile spread across his face. He was so at ease it made her head spin, he just didn't understand.
The house seems colder when she's alone, the walls are bare now and there's nothing that even remotely resembles the life that had been built within it. She tapes the last box shut and carries it to her car, blinking back tears the whole way.
In the break room she stares at the clock, taps her fingers on the table, paces the floor until she can't stand it. She marches down the hall and into Russell's office, determined to get an answer. He's got a cellphone pressed to his ear and his face is so pale he looks almost sickly to her. When he sees her he gives a look she's never seen before, she can't read the expression. She holds her breath and waits as he snaps the phone shut and falls onto the desk with a slight clatter.
"That was Brass.." his voice is low and gravelly and he refuses to look at her at first. Feeling an icy fear grip her she walks a few steps closer, her hand grasping the desk to keep herself upright.
If he had cared about her he would have stayed, or at least that's what she tells herself the first few days. It's easy to place the blame on him; it makes this whole mess a little clearer when she's not weighed down by the guilt. But the guilt had been no match against the shock, the denial. All of it had almost destroyed her.
She knows before he can even speak what the news is. Her chest is heaving and her head is shaking. She doesn't realize she's yelling at first, hysterical tears making paths down her cheeks. The lab outside falls quiet and she's wrapped up in strong arms and a voice tries to tell her how sorry he is.
Everyone's gaze bores into her, one by one understanding what happened. The silence is eerie and overwhelming and gives her the strongest urge to just scream. Instead she tries to walk to the break room, crumbling to her knees instead as Nick rushes to her side.
After a while sympathy begins to annoy her, makes her feel helpless and weak. She doesn't move on right away, she doesn't know how anyone could. A part of her life had just been ripped out of her grasp and taken from her, it's the only reason she can come up with.
The couch is cold and hard, she fidgets slightly in an attempt at comfort. The man in front of her, the therapist she's been forced to see, watches intently but the sadness in his eyes doesn't go unnoticed and she wants to hate him. She doesn't need pity from strangers. He starts asking questions and she can't help but think about how ridiculous they sound.
"How are you feeling right now? What emotions would best describe it?" at first she gawks, then shakes her head and clears her throat.
"I'm pissed." She says her gaze boring into his. He scribbles on his notepad and nods.
"Why? Out of all the emotions that could be running why are you angry?"
"Because I let him go. I watched him walk out the door to go play superman and he winds up dead."
The therapist considers this before asking, "So you're mad at yourself?"
She thinks for a moment before shaking her head, "I'm mad at him too…" she lets her head drop before whispering in a pitiful voice that makes her sound like a child.
"Is that a bad thing?" she's surprised when a hand grasps her own and gives a gentle squeeze. She looks up and meets his eyes and he shakes his head. At least she finds comfort in something.
Her new apartment is close to work, she could walk if she really wanted to. She laughs to herself, thinking about how he would never let her do that even during the day. Sometimes he was so protective she just wanted to rip her hair out. It's funny how she would give anything just to have those things happen again. In the bedroom she sleeps on the left side of the bed, his side. She tried desperately to rid the sheets of his scent and after about three washes it finally begins to fade.
The washing machine is useless and she resorts to using the kitchen sink, scrubbing furiously until her hands are raw and red. She throws them down and sinks to the floor, resting her head against the counter as sobs tear from her throat.
Being able to smell him was a tease, if she closed her eyes it was like he was there and sometimes she forgets and opens her mouth to say something, only to find the space next to her empty.
Sometimes she wakes up and she's covered in sweat, the nightmares seem so real and sometimes she has to check her hands to make sure they're not covered in blood. She sinks back against the pillow and stares at the ceiling as she thinks.
Maybe if she had tried harder he would have stayed.
Yeah, no idea where that came from. Once I heard the song and got the story in my head I just couldn't stop!