By Demeter

EMAIL: Demeter


It's almost dark outside, but I don't turn on the lights; if I had actually been reading, I'd be able to see just fine. In fact, the novel's just an excuse for me to be sitting here, occupied with nothing but listening to the comforting sound of Sandburg's heartbeat.

The thought that I might never have heard it again still holds a surreal quality; yet it's just this morning that I brought him home from the hospital.

That doesn't make everything right magically; I know. He's started therapy as well as medical treatment; made a lot of concessions lately, and still, those words had come from him, 'I've lost everything.'

I'll have to watch him closely. Make him understand.

I've been thinking a lot, those days at the hospital, asking myself if being a cop is still everything I want to be. There has to be some alternative, one where I can I apply my abilities and do important work as well. I want another chance for us to work together, and if that means I don't have to sniff out murderers and drug dealers on a daily basis, I'd be more than fine with it.

What is it that Blair wants?

I think he just needed a break that no one was willing to give him. The offer meant lots of pressure we hadn't considered, and if I'm honest, a cover-up of things I didn't want to talk about.

There's no running away from that anymore. And hopefully, in the near future, we'll get there.

The chance exists.

I know he still thinks it's up to him, that he's the one who's got to go away in order to not draw any more attention to us, but he's wrong. This is a decision we can only make together; I see that clearly now.

What seemed to be irritating at first has become a great comfort: Our lives have become entwined in a way that is irreversible.

That has got to mean something.

The End