DISCLAIMER: Law & Order: Special Victims Unit is the property of NBC and Dick Wolf, and being used without permission or intention of profit.
SERIES: Part one of the Desktop Confessionals series.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
SPOILER: Loss.
A Plain Morning
By JB
"It feels more like March here than July..." I drop my pen as the door creaks open behind me. She walks into the room, her short dark hair dripping from the rain. I turn my chair towards her as she makes her way across the hardwood floor.
"Still raining, I see." I point out obviously. She chuckles and shakes her head in response.
"I thought it's s'posta be summer out there." I nod with a smirk as she glances out the window beside my desk. After a moment she faces me with a smile.
"I'm gonna take a shower...you wanna join me?" I shake my head 'no' and point to the papers on my desk. She nods understandingly and bounds out of the room. I hear her in the bedroom. I know every move she makes by heart. I know that she'll slide her shoes off without untying them. Her shirt, undertank, and bra will come off in one motion and be laying in a pile just inside the door. Her jeans will be slung haphazardly across the nightstand. Her gun and badge will be placed neatly on the dresser. She's such a creature of habit. I hear the water turn on and the bathtub start to fill and I turn myself back to my writings.
It's something I do now. I never did before. Not really. Not like this. More often than not she finds me here. In front of my big mahogany desk, pen in hand, jotting down words that have more meaning than anyone will ever imagine. Words she does not understand. Words of a world she does not know even exists. Yet still I write them. And still she supports me unconditionally. I am her partner, yet there is a side of me she will never share. She just cannot. I cannot let her.
"The temperature is dropping..." I write for a few more minutes. Streams of consciousness more than any type of form. But it is good for me, I think. Though, somedays I'm not so sure.
I toss my pen back into its holder, push my chair back, and pull my feet into the chair and up to my chin. This is how she finds me 30 minutes later. My eyes hurt from watching the rain stream down over the city. She stretches her arm out towards me and pulls me out of my reflections. I smile softly as her arms tighten around my body. Her skin is still damp. I lean my head on her shoulder as I inhale the air around her. My nose is teased with the soft smell of raspberries and vanilla. She squeezes me tighter as a tear drops from my eyes. She does not ask why I am crying. I do not offer her an answer. She holds her face close to mine and I feel her eyelashes sweep across my face as she closes her cocoa colored eyes. Sometimes I close mine. But sometimes, on days like today where the fire in the room does nothing to curb the chill, I keep my eyes open and watch the city below me. The city that, on plain mornings like this one, seems more unfamiliar than ever. I watch the cars crisscross around the blocks, I watch the people bustle to and fro. I watch, and I wonder. I wonder what you're doing on days like these. I wonder if it's warmer where you are. I wonder if you ever think of me. I wonder if you wish you were holding me, or if you're in the arms of a substitute that will never know that's what they are.
I inhale again and can almost pretend I'm smelling the familiar scents of you. I can almost pretend that I'm in your arms. I can almost pretend that I love her as much as I love you. But in the end, I cannot pretend. I already am pretending to be someone I am not, I cannot fake my emotions as well.
She feels me shudder again and pulls me in closer, her breath tickling my ears.
"I love you Nic..." She whispers in my ear. I try desperately to open my mouth to say anything in response. Yet, when I go to move my lips the only name on my mind is yours, and I cannot form the words to change them for her.
"I know Ash...I know..." I whisper back to her as I close my eyes. It's days like these, when the temperature is dropping and it feels more like March than July that I wish I could hire a plane and come back home to you. It's plain mornings like these when I wish I could be in your arms hearing you say the those words I run through my mind a thousand times a day.
I squeeze my eyes shut tighter and I can almost pretend I'm feeling your soft breath across my face as you huskily whisper, "I love you Alex." I blink back tears as I pretend that I can gaze into your eyes and say, just as softly, "I love you too Liv."
The End