A/N: Post 3x09. Inspired by countless late night musings of my own.
Disclaimer: Not mine. No copyright infringement intended.
Some Nights
Some nights he's standing at his window, staring out into the starlit sky, marvelling that, even with the light pollution of a city like this, the stars are visible at all.
Some nights he stands staring down at the streetlights, watching people pass by in the city that never sleeps, wondering what they are doing awake at this hour.
Some nights he's standing at his window staring out into the dark, not because he can't sleep but because he chooses not to.
Some nights the city noises are so loud that they are audible even through closed windows … the factory a few blocks away … the revving engines of yet another illegal street race … the interstate that is especially loud when rain is coming.
Some nights he's standing at his window, smelling the air that is stale with city fumes, wondering if he'll be able to draw a full, deep breath ever again.
Some nights he's standing at his window staring out into the dark, trying to imagine what life might have been like if she was still there … and he wonders if he will ever feel at home, anywhere, ever again.
Some nights he's standing at his window staring out into the dark, a bottle of beer in his hand that, hours into the evening, still is almost full. It's his favourite brew, but he doesn't even taste it, because his senses are filled with memories of a future that now will never be.
Some nights he's standing at his window, staring out into the dark, dead tired but wide awake, and he doesn't want to miss one moment of the velvet-canvassed hours until the sun comes up. Night is his oldest friend, and some nights he greets with a grateful smile because finally the relentless demands of the world around him die down, if only for a while.
Some nights he's standing at his window staring out into the dark, wondering what will be thrown at him next and what the point of it all is … wondering what it would be like to just walk away, never look back, and lose himself in the night.
Some nights he's standing at his window staring out into the dark, wondering, waiting … waiting for what, he doesn't know … wondering what kind of memory this moment will be a day, a week, a year from now –
and if he will be there to remember.