My first fanfiction!
"And In the End"
He would not hug her goodbye.
He had known that ever since he had gotten that awful, final call from Strauss, that said it was done, it was over their heads, she had to leave NOW. The call that had ripped yet one more hole in his heart.
He stood and watched her pack up her office.
He could not hug her goodbye. Because if he had, he would not have been able to let her go: he would have felt her warmth against him, would have looked down into those deep blue eyes. His hand would have grazed her jaw, and turned her face up so that his lips could meet hers; those lips so beautiful when she smiled, so quick to give solace to the victim's families, so ready to comfort him, even when he wasn't even really aware he needed comforting. And as their lips met, his hand would slide back and into that warm golden hair, tangling in those silken strands.
What he would say after that, what he would do after that, he didn't know, exactly, but he had a pretty good idea.
He could not do that to her. In the best case, she would reject him; at worst, he would be forcing her to choose between giving in to desire for a man she had worked alongside and trusted for those many years, and fidelity to her partner and the father of her son. He cared for her too much to give her that pain, to destroy the friendship that existed between them.
So he stood, and at the last held out his hand. She took it, with a look of sadness and faint surprise, unsure of herself.
"I'm going to miss you," he said, let go of her, and turned and walked away.
Chromolume #7/Putting It Together by Original Broadway Cast from Sunday in the Park with George (Rating: 0)
He would not hug her goodbye.
He had known that ever since he had gotten that awful, final call from Strauss, that said it was done, it was over their heads, she had to leave NOW. The call that had ripped yet one more hole in his heart.
He stood and watched her pack up her office.
He could not hug her goodbye. Because if he had, he would not have been able to let her go: he would have felt her warmth against him, would have looked down into those deep blue eyes. His hand would have grazed her jaw, and turned her face up so that his lips could meet hers; those lips so beautiful when she smiled, so quick to give solace to the victim's families, so ready to comfort him, even when he wasn't even really aware he needed comforting. And as their lips met, his hand would slide back and into that warm golden hair, tangling in those silken strands.
What he would say after that, what he would do after that, he didn't know, exactly, but he had a pretty good idea.
He could not do that to her. In the best case, she would reject him; at worst, he would be forcing her to choose between giving in to desire for a man she had worked alongside and trusted for those many years, and fidelity to her partner and the father of her son. He cared for her too much to give her that pain, to destroy the friendship that existed between them.
So he stood, and at the last held out his hand. She took it, with a look of sadness and faint surprise, unsure of herself.
"I'm going to miss you," he said, let go of her, and turned and walked away.
Chromolume #7/Putting It Together by Original Broadway Cast from Sunday in the Park with George (Rating: 0)