Fic. Untitled. Law and Order: Criminal Intent. Rodgers. Ross/Rodgers.
Fandom: LOCI
Characters: Rodgers
Pairing: Rodgers/Ross
Warnings: Kinda angsty, but safe for most.
A/N: Don't own, don't make any money.
She goes to visit him on Christmas Eve, despite the snowfall, despite the cold and despite that the holiday holds no importance in Judaism.
The snow is deep but light and makes her thigh muscles ache as she forces her way up to his headstone. It's evident that it's been a few days since his boys where here and the guilt wells up in her chest as she thinks about how long it's been since she last was here.
I'm so sorry.
She's meant to come out here after work, or on the weekends, but... There's always one more autopsy to perform, one more crime scene to process, one more report that needs to be written at two in the morning.
It's been more than a year now. And it's just as hard as it was then. Now that her bed no longer smells of him and the last of his socks and boxer shorts have been cleared out of her bottom drawer. It's like she's starting to forget all those little details that was him. At the same time she’s feeling like maybe she's not allowed to claim those details to herself in any way. The two of them were never official. She never met his boys other than at his funeral. She has no claim on him other than memories of endless nights spent in her bed and candle lit dinners.
She's so scared that with no one else to confirm her memories, she'll one day forget them. Scared that all she'll eventually remember is how he looked that night - with the blood and the bullet holes and the death. That's not how she wants to remember him.
She kneels down and places the smooth stone that she's been keeping in her pocket next to the other ones on top of the headstone. But the images are already there - of the cold darkness and the sticky blood and the unnatural stiffness of his body. Once they get inside her head, she can't ignore them.
She fumbles with her mittens as her eyes start to mist.
Fuck.
She bites back her tears as she hurries through the deep snow to get to her car, refusing to cry even though there is no one else around. As she slams the door to her old Volvo and turns on the reluctant engine she sends one last thought to the man she came to visit, before she speeds away.
I'm so sorry, Danny.
Characters: Rodgers
Pairing: Rodgers/Ross
Warnings: Kinda angsty, but safe for most.
A/N: Don't own, don't make any money.
She goes to visit him on Christmas Eve, despite the snowfall, despite the cold and despite that the holiday holds no importance in Judaism.
The snow is deep but light and makes her thigh muscles ache as she forces her way up to his headstone. It's evident that it's been a few days since his boys where here and the guilt wells up in her chest as she thinks about how long it's been since she last was here.
I'm so sorry.
She's meant to come out here after work, or on the weekends, but... There's always one more autopsy to perform, one more crime scene to process, one more report that needs to be written at two in the morning.
It's been more than a year now. And it's just as hard as it was then. Now that her bed no longer smells of him and the last of his socks and boxer shorts have been cleared out of her bottom drawer. It's like she's starting to forget all those little details that was him. At the same time she’s feeling like maybe she's not allowed to claim those details to herself in any way. The two of them were never official. She never met his boys other than at his funeral. She has no claim on him other than memories of endless nights spent in her bed and candle lit dinners.
She's so scared that with no one else to confirm her memories, she'll one day forget them. Scared that all she'll eventually remember is how he looked that night - with the blood and the bullet holes and the death. That's not how she wants to remember him.
She kneels down and places the smooth stone that she's been keeping in her pocket next to the other ones on top of the headstone. But the images are already there - of the cold darkness and the sticky blood and the unnatural stiffness of his body. Once they get inside her head, she can't ignore them.
She fumbles with her mittens as her eyes start to mist.
Fuck.
She bites back her tears as she hurries through the deep snow to get to her car, refusing to cry even though there is no one else around. As she slams the door to her old Volvo and turns on the reluctant engine she sends one last thought to the man she came to visit, before she speeds away.
I'm so sorry, Danny.