Lyrics from Taylor Swift's, time to go and You're Losing Me.
"Um," I cleared my throat, "Tank called me, his flight was canceled, and he asked if I could cover his shift." Why hadn't Tank let Ranger know? Also, where the hell was Bobby? Ranger just gave me a nod before turning back to the computer screens. He'd been standing at the monitors as I approached, but now he sat in one of the chairs. Was he staying? No, no, no, this wasn't happening. "Ah, um, I thought Tank said he was working with Bobby?" Ranger ignored me and continued watching. Suppressing the urge to stick my tongue out at him, I sucked it up, hung up my coat, and stowed my bag in an empty drawer before taking the other chair.
I assumed he wasn't answering my question, so I jumped slightly when he finally spoke. His voice was much softer now, "Sorry, it's been a shit show. One of the guys who transferred here from the Miami office failed to tell anyone he'd never driven in the snow. He skidded out, flipped the Bronco, and cracked his head on the windshield, taking out two parked cars and a fire hydrant." He ran his hand over his face, obviously frustrated. "Bobby is at the hospital, getting him settled in, and then has to take over his patrol. I've been dealing with the police and insurance company and canceled on my family to fill in. Which I'm going to catch hell for." His whole body was tense.
Instinctually, I reached out, momentarily forgetting the chasm between us. "I'm sorry," I laid my hand on his arm and he immediately relaxed. I knew how skilled my mom was with a guilt trip, and I imagined Ranger's was probably the same. He must have been stressed out because he'd just freely explained what was going on without me having to ask a million questions. It must be bad if he can't maintain his mysterious facade. He was already having a shitty day and I didn't want to add to his problems. "Did Tank not let you know I was coming? I don't want to make things worse, I can go if you'd rather."
"No," he laid his hand over the top of mine and squeezed. We both stared at the contact and instantly tensed, pulling our hands back, as if we'd been burned. God, I hated what we'd become. Setting my hands in my lap so I didn't accidentally touch him again, I focused on the monitors. He let out a sigh. Before the last four months, I'd never heard Ranger sigh, but it had become a somewhat frequent whenever we were together. I refused to think about what that said about me as a person. Had I broken Batman? Ranger spoke again, "He called me earlier and told me his flight was delayed and likely going to be canceled. I was in the middle of dealing with Bobby, the accident, and guilt trips from my three sisters." Another sigh, well at least it wasn't just me that brought it out in him.
I kept my eyes on the monitors, but in my peripheral vision, I saw him thread his hands into his hair, giving it a slight tug at the roots. I knew he did it out of frustration, but it was sexy as hell and made me warm in places that were not appropriate for work and were going to make the next eight hours very uncomfortable if he kept it up. My vision blurred briefly when memories of my hands twisted in his hair and his reaction to it took over my brain. The spell was broken when he dropped his hands into his lap and started speaking again, "I told Tank to figure it out and find a replacement. Said he'd call me back and let me know who, but I told him not to bother unless he couldn't find anyone, I had enough shit to deal with." He let out a laugh, but it wasn't a pleasant sound, which pissed me off. Here I was doing him and Tank a favor and he's irritated that I'm the one filling the shift. Fuck that.
I opened the drawer, grabbed my bag, and stood, ready to grab my coat and get the fuck out of there. I wasn't even going to bother dropping my stuff in my cubicle. I'd mail the shit back to him. Ranger grabbed my wrist, stopping me, "No. Stay, please, I didn't mean it like that." There was a quality to his voice that seemed so out of character for him, if it were anyone else I'd say he was pleading with me. I turned to look at him and saw the same emotion mirrored in his eyes. His voice was softer this time, "I'm grateful for the help. It was just a shock."
"No shit," I muttered under my breath and sat back down. Once he was sure I wasn't going to rabbit, he released his grip on me. I put my bag back in the drawer and avoided making eye contact. A familiar, awkward silence hung in the air as we both turned our attention to the monitors, neither of us sure what else to say. It was painful to be in each other's presence now and it made me angry while simultaneously making my heart clench.
His voice was so soft, I wasn't sure I heard him at first, "I'm glad it's you. Today's been a fucking disaster, but I'm not upset I get to spend time with you." Was he serious? I bit my tongue hard to keep from telling him he could go fuck himself. He once told me that when it came to the two of us, he had the muscle but I had all the power. What a joke. When it came to him, it was painfully obvious that I had no say, no control over any of it and no power to resist him. I wanted to cry, but refused to let myself give in to the emotion. I continued staring at the monitors, not responding, not knowing what to say. He added, "But I'm sorry to put you through it because I know it's not what you want." At that, I lost control of my tongue and whipped my head towards him.
Glaring, I spit out, "First of all, for the last six months it's been your choice not to spend time with me outside our apartments, hell, outside of bed. I've had no say in the matter. You've been willing to give me your body, but nothing else, certainly not your time. You've been more than happy to fuck me in private while barely speaking to me in public, so fuck you." My voice was even but had a hard edge. I embraced the anger, trying to suppress the hurt and tears that threatened to fall. Unable to stop myself, I added, "Fucking me in a parking lot doesn't count." It was a low blow, but that didn't make it any less true. Ranger's jaw tightened, but he remained silent. I figured he wasn't planning to respond, just sit and brood, so I turned my attention back to the monitors.
We sat in tense silence for a long time when I heard him speak again, his voice low, "I'm sorry Steph, the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you."
I refused to look at him but answered. "You know when people say the last thing they want to do is hurt you, it's because they've got other things on the list they want to do first. I let you fuck me and fuck me over in every way imaginable. I wanted it, all of it." I took a deep breath and added, my voice barely above a whisper, "Sometimes, I'm sorry just isn't enough." I didn't want to do this here, now. It was too late. I'd made my decision and was leaving. I needed to leave. I had to leave. Talking about it now wasn't going to change that.
It was deathly quiet and tense for hours. We ignored each other and did our jobs. I'd watched monitors with him on Christmas before. Nothing ever happened, and it was excruciatingly dull. New Year's was busier, people were drunk and decided to do something stupid or hungover and forgot their alarm codes. On Christmas Day commercial clients were closed for the most part, so it was just exterior monitors. As for residential accounts, less than 1% had live monitoring, with cameras only activated if an alarm was triggered. In past years, Ranger and I spent the time flirting, teasing each other, and enjoying time together. Not tonight. Sitting in the quiet next to him with nothing else to do was torture, nothing to do but think and overthink. I'd been through the whole situation in my head, what felt like a million times. There was only one way out for me, I had to break the cycle.
I tried to distract myself by making a mental checklist of things I had yet to do before leaving: canceling the utilities, selling my car, and figuring out how to tell my friends I was leaving. When I couldn't take it anymore, I stood up and stretched. "I'm going to the bathroom and grabbing a sandwich from the break room. Do you want something?" He just nodded. So I left to take care of business and grabbed a sandwich and a bottle of water for each of us. I got a grunt of thanks from him and we ate in silence.
It was another hour at least before he spoke, "Steph..." But then he stopped. I cringed at his use of my given name, not Babe. But that was stupid, I was the one who told him to quit calling me that, actually I screamed it at him.
I was a little confused about why he was pressing the issue now, in the control room, while we were working. "Is this really where you want to do this?" I didn't want to talk about it anymore. At all. Here or anywhere else. It wasn't that there weren't things I wanted to hear him say, but I'd already said plenty and he'd said next to nothing. I was tired of baring my soul and getting rejected. He wasn't changing his mind, no matter how much I tried to convince myself he would.
"There are things I need to say to you. Things I've tried to say before, but when I've tried…" He paused, searching for the right words, "When we're alone, in private things get…" He stopped again mid-sentence, searching for the right words. I knew what he meant.
"We start fighting and fucking." I finished for him. He winced at my crudeness.
He was indignant, "Is that what it was to you?"
I was quick to answer, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice, but it was difficult. "During, no. After, yes. Because it seemed like that's what it was to you." He tried to interject, but I cut him off. "I know it's not true. I know how you feel about me, even if you try to hide it, refuse to admit it, even to yourself. You come to me because you need me, I know it when we're together, in the moment. Your body betrays you, the way you look at me, touch me, the words you whisper, even if they're in Spanish, their meaning is clear. Each time I take you into my bed, into my body, I tell myself this time will be different, because how could you love me like that and walk away? But every time, you do." He had nothing to say in response, so I turned back to watch what I knew would be absolutely nothing happening on the computer screens.
After taking a few minutes to collect his thoughts, he spoke again. He'd regained his calm demeanor, but it was anything but cool, his voice low, "I know you don't want to hear an apology, I know it won't make things better. But will you listen to what I have to say?" The fact that he asked me to listen and didn't order me to was huge. So I just nodded, eyes still on the monitors. "Can you look at me?" His voice was soft and he sounded unsure of himself. So I took a deep breath and turned to him. His deep brown eyes were soft and tinged with regret. He moved to take my hands in his but stopped and glanced at me, silently asking permission. Oh, what the hell, I thought and nodded. He took them in his, gently using his thumbs to draw circles on the back of mine, trying to soothe one, or both of us. "I love you. I have for a long time, almost since the beginning." You'd think an admission of love would sound more joyful, but it seemed to bring only misery to us both. "For a while, I could satisfy myself by being near you, touching you, stealing kisses in the alley or my car when wiring you for a distraction. When that wasn't enough, I proposed the deal, convincing myself it would be enough." A bitter laugh escaped him, "I was wrong, but I sent you back to Morelli anyway, thinking it was best for both of us." Seeing I wanted to interject, he squeezed my hands to stop me, "I know you want to yell at me and I deserve it, but can you let me get through this first, before we get distracted?" A slight smile crossed his beautiful face and I knew he was remembering just how we distracted each other when the conversation got to be too difficult. I felt myself flush, allowing my train of thought to follow his, but I kept my mouth shut and just nodded.
"Since then, I've contented myself with the touches and kisses I could steal, but it was never enough. Occasionally a miracle would happen and we escaped the real world together and pretended we were a normal couple, like Hawaii, Disneyland, and during the holidays. Those have been some of the best days of my life." He took a deep breath before continuing, "When they send me to those hellholes to do the unthinkable, the memories of you, of us, get me through it, give me the drive to make it back home, desperate to make new memories with you." I wanted to cry and smack him upside the head at the same time. I had both lips pressed between my teeth now, preventing myself from interrupting. He noticed my herculean effort and gently worked them out from between my teeth, running his thumb across my lower lip in appreciation. "Last summer, when you ended things with Morelli and asked me to stay, this whole mess started…" He looked down at our hands for a minute, then returned his eyes to mine.
"Honestly, I didn't think it would last, the break-up. You two had done it a hundred times before, so I took the opening you offered. I figured it would be short-lived, like Christmas in July for us." He paused, "But the longer it went on, I realized that wasn't going to happen, you weren't going back to Morelli. I was completely unprepared for that, I always figured in the end you'd marry him and live happily ever after in the Burg." At the look I gave him he gave a small smile. "Okay, maybe not totally happily, but you know what I mean." I did know what he meant. While I liked to think of myself as independent and not bowing to the pressure of what was expected of me, truthfully, I avoided the issue and never really stood up for myself with my mom or with Joe. I might have known I'd never marry Joe, but I can see how Ranger didn't.
It was difficult for me not to butt in when he said such stupid things, he'd never opened up like this before, so I sat quietly and listened, afraid to break the spell. While it fed my curiosity, I didn't think whatever he was going to say would change anything. The look he was giving me was not one you gave a woman before you told her she was the love of your life and offered her happily ever after. He looked resigned, and I was sure I wouldn't like what else he had to say, even if I was glad he was finally willing to say it. So I sucked it up and listened.
"I'm a strategist. While I excelled at most things in the military, my ability to look at a situation and make a plan made me one of the best. When the plan went to shit, I could think on my feet and we could adapt and overcome. I've applied the same approach to my civilian life, to skip-tracing, to my business. It defines who I am." I could see that. Ranger was brilliant and thought through all possibilities before deciding which path to follow, where I tended to fly by the seat of my pants. His clear head and quick thinking had saved my life too many times to count. He let out a small sound of frustration, "Then you came along. When it comes to you, nothing goes according to plan and everything just blows up in my face." I wanted to object, but it was true in more ways than one. He shook his head slightly, almost in disbelief.
"I've never had a personal life, never wanted one. My focus has always been my work, in the military, Rangeman and…" I knew the rest of the sentence without him having to say it; when he went into the wind and saved the world. We shared a look and he knew I understood. He kept going, "I don't have friends. I'd give my life for my men and they'd do the same for me, but we don't spend time together outside of work except for the occasional beer, it's not a priority for me, so I don't make time for it." He shrugged, "When we were younger and on leave, we'd hit the bars and pick up women together, but we're too old for that shit now, thank god. Most of them have a significant other now; wife, girlfriend or boyfriend, and some even have kids. I never wanted that for myself. I married Rachel for Julie's sake, we never dated and certainly didn't love each other." I wasn't sure if the thought of Julie caused the look on his face or if it was what was coming next. I couldn't pinpoint what emotions I was seeing, it was rare for him to show any. While I couldn't name it, I knew this was one I'd never seen before.
"I've never had a relationship of any sort. I'm not wired for it. I don't think I'd be good at it. I'm not close with my family, I only go to the holidays and dinners I can't get out of. All my siblings are married and have children and no one understands why I don't choose to do the same. My parents try, but I don't think I'll ever get past them sending me to Miami as a kid. It's probably the root of why I'm so fucked up." That's when I knew what I saw in his eyes, the pain of a little boy who felt unloved and alone. I wanted to reach out to him, pull him into my arms to soothe and share his pain. But that's not what he wanted, not why he was telling me this. I held my breath and waited to hear the rest, my stomach clenched in knots.
His smile was sad, "You're the first person who's come into my life I wanted to spend time with, be around outside of work, the only one I ever let see me, Carlos, not just Ranger." My eyebrows shot up, but I kept silent. "I know you don't think so, but I've let you in more than anyone else, ever." My eyes watered at his words. He shook his head, "When I figured out I loved you, it pissed me off. I didn't want it. I didn't ask for it and I certainly didn't know what to do about it." He blew out a frustrated breath, "But then Morelli entered the picture and saved me from having to do anything. I thought that's how it always would be. You'd be with him and I could be your friend, keep you safe, and take every opportunity to be with you, as long as there was no risk of serious involvement." Isn't that just what every woman longs to hear? My tears dried up and I had to resist the urge to kick him in the balls, worried about what I'd be tempted to do to him by the time he'd finished his soliloquy.
"I knew you were in love with me, probably before you did. So I was always upfront about what I could and couldn't offer you. You thought it was because I didn't love you enough, or in the right way and I let you believe that. Because the truth would hurt you more, to know that I love you in exactly the right way but I wasn't willing to do anything about it." All of the anger that had boiled up inside me was pushed aside by the wave of agony and nausea that threatened to overtake me. I was wrong, I didn't want to hear the rest of what he had to say anymore, I wanted to be able to un-hear what he'd already said.
Tears threatened and I croaked out, "Stop. Please stop." I pulled my hands from his and stood abruptly, sending the chair I'd vacated rolling across the room. I turned away from him, my arms wrapped around my waist, hugging myself, trying desperately to find comfort. Even though I was sure it was silent in the room, my ears were filled with a low-level buzzing sound, my vision clouded, and my heart was beating so violently it felt like it might burst out of my chest like in an old Looney Tunes cartoon. Thankfully Ranger stopped talking, but soon I felt him standing behind me. I couldn't let him touch me, or offer me comfort because then I'd dissolve completely into a puddle of misery and tears. He was hurting too, I knew that. He was a little boy abandoned by his family who the military turned into a tortured man, so concerned with protecting himself, that he left no room for anyone to love him because he was convinced he didn't deserve it. Right now, I didn't care. I dug deep, past the humiliation, sadness, and despair, and with a white-knuckled grip, seized the burning anger that had been simmering inside me for months. I used the heat of my fury to warm the parts of me that had gone cold and numb with the incessant pain.
"Don't. Touch. Me." I gritted out, and took a step forward, trying desperately to put the same physical distance between us that we'd achieved emotionally. But I was trapped between him and the wall. I couldn't move further away from him, and I desperately needed him to back away from me. Not feeling like asking politely, I spun on my heel and placed both hands on his chest, shoving as hard as I could, the surprise of my attack, more than the force of it causing him to take two steps backward before catching himself. "You fucking bastard!" I hissed at him. Before I even registered the movement, I lunged at him, my hand raised to slap him across the face, anxious to make him hurt as much as I was. Before I could make contact he had a hold of both wrists and had me pinned to the wall with his body. His face was inches from mine, his beautiful features marred with pain, but only for a moment. In an instant, his blank look fell into place. I struggled against him, furious he could say those things to me, then try to hide behind his mask.
"Stop." He ordered me. It wasn't his words that stopped me, it was the sounds that carried into the room, the slam of the stairwell door and the deep voices. He must have already heard them. My eyes darted to the clock, 11:55 pm. The next crew was here to relieve us. I stilled and tried to collect myself. In the past few years, there were plenty of times I'd embarrassed myself in front of the Rangemen. They'd seen me covered in garbage and food, fall asleep at my desk, and have a few wardrobe malfunctions during distractions. I wasn't going to allow them to see my pathetic self and how I'd let their boss destroy me. When he sensed the fight had gone out of me, Ranger released his hold and took a step back. I seized the opportunity to grab my bag and coat, making a beeline for the elevator. I nodded and gave a fake smile to Zip and Zero as we passed each other. If they were surprised to see me, they didn't show it, but they were Rangemen, trained to hide all emotions. As soon as I stepped into the elevator, I repeatedly hit the button for the garage, as if the more I pressed it, the faster it would move. When I looked up Ranger was headed in my direction and didn't look happy. I turned my attention to the button that closed the doors, jabbing it in the same manner, and sighed in relief when the door closed and the elevator began to descend, the angry Cuabn still two steps away. I rummaged in my bag for my keys, not bothering to put on my coat. anxious to get out of there and get home where I could fall apart in the privacy of my apartment. Still searching for my keys, I stepped out of the elevator and was met with a hard chest belonging to a pissed-off Ranger. Before I could react he'd backed me up, the elevator doors closed and we began our assent to what I assumed was the 7th floor.
At first, I was too stunned to do anything, but then the shock wore off. The fury that had been banked when we were interrupted roared to life. On top of everything else he'd said and done, he thought he could keep me here against my will. I started pounding on his chest with my fists and trying to knee him in the balls. " You asshole! Let me go! I'll scream!" He grunted as my first blows landed and shifted his hips to the side, using his knee to block mine. Before I could try again he had both of my wrists in one of his hands, holding them securely behind my back. His other arm was wrapped around my waist, holding me tight to his body, restricting my movements, my struggles doing nothing to break his hold.
His voice was harsh, "You can scream all you want, no one is going to help you. Zip and Zero may like you, but they answer to me and they know I'd never hurt you." The acrid laugh escaped my mouth involuntarily, we'd passed hurt a long time ago, and were heading towards complete devastation if I couldn't get away from him.
"You're a bully," I bit out as I continued to twist and wriggle against his hold. It didn't affect my imprisonment, the only thing I succeeded in doing was pulling a groan from Ranger as I felt him harden against me. "And you're a pervert," I told him, trying to sound disgusted, suppressing the familiar heat that flared in my belly. Damn him.
My traitorous nipples pressing into his chest gave me away and he chuckled, his voice deep, "Pot, kettle. I can't help the way you affect me. I'll never not want you."
His comment and my reaction to his body stoked my anger, "And you hate me for it, don't you?"
Squeezing me tighter, his voice was softer and tinged with sadness, "I could never hate you. You might frustrate me, make me regret my choices, and want things I can't have, but I could never hate you." The fact that his feelings echoed my own drained the fight from me. When the elevator doors opened I let him guide me into his apartment, his touch so familiar as his hand settled on the small of my back. The touch forced me to hold back a sob, the feelings threatening to overwhelm me. Ranger took my coat and bag and deposited his things on the console table in the entryway. He didn't bother to turn on the lights, the only illumination coming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I walked across the room and looked out at the city I grew up in, knowing it wouldn't be mine for much longer. At some point it had started snowing again, a fresh blanket covered the ground, the beauty of it making me pause, if only for a minute while I gathered my thoughts.
"Why did you bring me here?" I knew I wasn't leaving until he allowed it, but I was uneasy in his space. I hadn't been here since that night, all those months ago, the beginning of the end for us. His apartment used to give me a feeling of zen-like calm, now there was only sadness and resentment. He moved to stand beside me, thankfully not too close, and focused his eyes on the view as well.
His voice was low, "Because I can't let you leave like this, with things unsettled between us." I thought things were pretty well settled, just not how I wanted and no amount of talking would change that. After a beat, he asked, "Were you even going to tell me? Say goodbye? Do you hate me that much?" He didn't try to disguise the hurt in his voice.
I shouldn't have been surprised. He was Batman after all, and Batman knew everything. "I was going to tell you." I lied. I'd planned on avoiding him at all costs until I stepped on the plane. "How did you find out?"
His laugh was harsh, "Did you think they'd hire you without asking me for a reference?" Honestly, I hadn't thought about it at all. I just wanted to get the hell away from him. When I didn't answer he offered, "You don't have to go. This is your home. I'll leave if you want, go back to Miami." I just shook my head. I was surprised at his offer, but it was too late.
"No. I need to leave. I need to move on. I need to make a life for myself without you in it. I can't do that here, for me, you're everywhere, whether you're physically here or not." I knew, sometimes to run is the brave thing, sometimes, giving up is the strong thing, sometimes, walking out is the one thing that will find you the right thing. You know when it's time to go.
From the corner of my eye, I saw him acknowledge what I said with a slight nod. I kept going, feeling the need to explain. "It wasn't the relationship you insisted we didn't have. You were honest with me about what you could offer, and what you wanted. I chose to believe your actions, not your words and deluded myself into thinking you'd change your mind. It might not have been a relationship to you, but it felt like one to me. I could reconcile it in my mind that it was, even if it was a secret." I tried to take responsibility for my part in this tragedy. I wrapped my arms around myself, bracing for the next part of my admission. "I think I could've gotten past it and maybe we could've been friends again, eventually, convinced myself that even though you loved me, you didn't need me or anyone in your life like that." I swallowed hard, ashamed, embarrassed, that I'd let myself be used, "But it's what happened after, the times you'd show up in the middle of the night, needing me. And I needed you, I always need you, but it was more than that. I wanted to, I needed to be there for you. Because I knew, at least I hoped, I was the only one who could be, the only one you'd let in, see you vulnerable like that."
I kept looking straight ahead, staring out the window, but I could see in the periphery that he'd turned to look at me, so I did the same. I was prepared to see his blank face, he'd told me point-blank multiple times he didn't need me, or anyone. And yet, I insisted and he always shut down in response, until now. The pain I'd seen written on his features before had returned and I saw the anguish of a little boy who refused to depend on anyone because he'd been abandoned and grew into a man who believed he was undeserving of being loved and cared for. A sob escaped my throat, I was hurting, not only for my own heart, but this time I made room for his as well. Each of us took a step toward the other, and I slid my arms around his waist and held on for dear life while he wrapped me tightly in his. I cried big fat ugly tears for me, for him, for what would never be. He rocked me gently back and forth, speaking softly in Spanish, supporting me while I shed the tears he couldn't allow himself to cry.
As my sobs subsided to the occasional hiccup, he picked me up bridal style and moved us to the couch, settling me on his lap, and handing me a box of tissues he pulled from an end table drawer. After mopping up my face, I permitted myself to snuggle into his embrace, knowing it would be the last time. Ranger contented himself holding me, one hand on my waist, the other rubbing my back, his touch meant to comfort, not arouse. In his arms, I found the strength to finish all I needed to say. I didn't want him to feel abandoned again, but I had to save myself and he deserved to know the why. My voice was rough from crying, and it took two tries to get the words out. "I can't tell you no, can't turn you away. If I stayed and you needed me, I'd be there, do anything, give you anything. But in the morning, when you'd inevitably walk away and deny me any other part of you, it would destroy me, forcing me to once again try and put myself, and my heart back together. Then the cycle would repeat itself. Our lives are dangerous and chaotic, life-and-death situations occur way too often, and the need to reassure each other, be connected, and feel grounded is just going to continue to happen, over and over again. I need to walk away. I don't want to, but I need to. I can't keep doing this."
He squeezed me tighter to him, and for long moments we sat, mourning in the darkened room. I didn't expect him to respond, there wasn't anything more he could say. We'd both said more than enough, the time for words was past. I shifted in his lap, and he released me, expecting me to get up and walk away. Instead, I turned in his arms and moved my legs to either side of his to straddle him, his hands automatically settling on my hips. Sliding my hands up his chest, I used both to cup his jaw. Bringing my lips to his, I kissed him, a long slow passionate kiss, before letting my need take over, deepening the kiss, the feeling of how things always were with us flooding my body. Our hands roamed as the need to have him inside me one more time overwhelmed me. Pulling back I looked into his eyes, "I need you to help me say goodbye." Then I kissed him again, softly this time, before pulling back, pressing my forehead against his, and making my final request, "And then I need you to let me go."