can't buy back yesterday

Torture had come in the form of partners. A way to burn the heartache out. It was impossible to mourn when you had a pocket sized dynamo going at an ogre with Chihuahua sized enthusiasm. All snarling and teeth, headache inducing and all consuming when you were stuck in an office listening to it. Pulled into the middle of it all when a peacemaker was needed, wisdom and grace letting him slip between them with an eye roll and a cutting tone. It had been a distraction and perhaps Forbes had known it.

There hadn’t been any questions about Mrs. Carnegie when he’d arrived in her office, a single pointed look at the ring that still banded shackle tight on his left hand, those blue eyes rising to meet his. Will supposed she’d left him an opening to step into to explain it but he’d smiled tightly, continued to sing his own praises until she’d called them into her office to explain their arrangement.

When he’d needed it, where the hell had the two of them been?

Tongue trapped tight against that cutting ridge of his upper teeth, Will hammered at his keyboard. The damn thing froze, the cursor blinking on the screen without the accompanying stream of text. Growling under his breath, he thumped fingers down on the mouse, gave it an exasperated shove across the scarred mouse mat on the only clean desk in the office. Nothing. As mocking as his partners would’ve been if they were there. Daring him to tunnel hands into neatly coifed hair or yank at the tie with its pristine Windsor knot. Ruffle the exterior, burn off the frustration and let them all see it written across his face.

He hadn’t. Not when he’d first stepped foot in here with the two of them, or when he’d slipped out of his car at the scene just days before and all of that poise had been shattered in an instant. He’d called it his place in those first frost-bitten words and he hadn’t been wrong. This had been his bolt hole, his place to retreat to when he’d left New York and their lives to her. No accidental meetings in Central Park or in that little bagel place around the corner from what had been their apartment, no pointed looking away from each other in departmental meets. A clean break that Will knew he had been anything but in the end. The jagged ends of bone had still been there, waiting just below the surface to tear through him once more.

Three weeks had lain between the misery of seeing her again, of stepping in to protect her modesty and that tender part of her few ever got to see like he’d been allowed to. Pacing the apartment, trying to boil off all that bubbled beneath the surface with the soup he’d spent hours making this weekend. Chopping, sauteing, simmering until the flavours were just perfect. Not too strong, not bitter.

Will let out a breath, sinking back into his chair with a creak. Elbows planted on the arms, hands coming up to dig those thick fingers that still stung with the impact of the keyboard and mouse into his eyes. He let out into a weary chuckle. Oh, bitter he had been, those memories stirred so thickly that they’d invaded his dreams. That creeping arrival at the station this morning. Marching through like even if Zoey had stepped out of one of the offices and back into his office with that proud chin lifted and a dare back in her dark eyes she’d have bounced off of him, leaving him untouched. Such a lie to himself. Gingerly picking his way down the hallway instead, blue eyes cutting aside at every moment. The weary sinking down into his seat and the slow stir to work.

Hissing out a breath now, he reached a hand out gingerly, thumb bouncing lightly off of the keyboard like it would do anything to bring the screen back to life. Freezing like the cursor at the clip of her heels, eyes slipping shut before the rap of knuckles on the door sounded the final death knell. Will swallowed hard, dipping his head before he looked up, allowing those shutters down on another heart that was not ready for this.

He pushed his chair back slightly, gesturing towards the chair in front of his desk. If his partners had been here they would’ve been hanging over their desks now, ravenous dogs with no manners when the dinner bell was run. ”I can spare a few,” he managed lightly. Knowing each with her in here was going to feel like a year of torture. A sidewards glance at the screen and he was reaching out to thumb it off. Hide the evidence. Something he was far too good at.

Will watched those dark eyes sweep his office, his throat working. If he hadn’t been for his partners maybe there’d have been some sign of her there the way there had been back in New York. That photo of them in a small frame in his desk drawer, that faint smile on his face that she’d always see when she caught him looking at it during the day. Lips curling faintly, he tried for polite but all of that was stripped away from Zoey’s tone, slipping straight from a bare greeting to business. A cold slap to anything that tried to creep back to warm.

He rolled closer, dark brows beetling as his mouth pinched. Taking the files from her, he dropped them on his desk, flicking through. The robbery that had tossed her right back into his path again. ”Your people took charge of the case didn’t they? Couldn’t just get them straight from the evidence room now instead of coming …” To him. A momentary hope that perhaps not all was permanently lost, dying on his lips as he looked up at her. ”I took them into evidence …” Not glee at that exactly, more than sinking feeling that the only reason she had willingly stepped back into his orbit was to hold onto the rules that he knew she would’ve had to break if he’d ever spoken one word about what was cutting the heart out of their marriage. ”Take a seat. Can I get you a coffee? Water?” Civilities that would likely only be tossed back at him but … if this was it … he wasn’t about to give her the means to push herself right out the door. Frowning lightly, Will cast another look back at his computer, sighed as he thumbed it back on. Damnation would be a machine working like a dream now, no more delays. No masochistic torture.

Tagged: ZOEY WASHINGTON * Word Count: 1125

Life hadn’t exactly returned to anything when Zoey had signed on that last dotted line and in the eyes of the law had ended their marriage. Equilibrium, normality, the way it had been – none of them were the same because she had changed the meaning of all of them by allowing him in in the first place. Will supposed it had been a life that had staggered on instead, with what had been the heart of it for what had been the best years of his life before he had slowly eroded them cut out. Hollowed out, bleeding in a way he hadn’t let her or anybody else see, abandoning the scene of the crime before he fell to his knees to confess in the vane hope that instead of destroying her life further Zoey would choose to understand and believe.

In him.

In a way he knew she didn’t.

He’d seen it right there in her eyes as they’d stood toe to toe at the crime scene he’d created. Still no understanding, just the remaining shadows of lingering pain that he felt down in the pit of his stomach like he’d been hollowed out afresh – bloody and raw, a grief in a way that was worse than any he’d felt.

Will could see it in her eyes again now. Every pore, every angle, every exquisitely carved feature of a goddess’ face memorised long before when he’d merely been a man with an infatuation of that fire that burned in her gut, in those dark eyes he’d seen melt like chocolate for him. Richness now dulled in a way that was softening his response to her being back in his space, all blunt words and a business like manner that reminded him of her coolness towards him in those early days.

Despite his mental admonishment to wall himself off from anything but the obvious business Will felt that ache of loss start to throb anew in the pit of his stomach at her silence. The memorised lines he’d traced even in those dreams that he woke up aching from shifting from something shuttered in its own way to annoyance. Velveteen eyes narrowing, lips pursing before she muttered a single bitter word back at his enquiry.

Clearing his throat, Will tried to tamp back that thin trace of smug that wanted to rise up. The age old battle between local law enforcement and the federal, the lines between them somewhat scrubbed away not that his ex-wife stood on the other side of them. ”You could have emailed,” he said lightly. A quiver of something far more disconcerting shook free that smug. The FBI on his case, on him now. How long had they been investigating? The fact that a trail could have led them from New York to here meaning they were possibly already too close and Zoey was just a few steps away from doing what he’d always hoped she never would have.

The thing he’d thrown his marriage away to avoid.

Knowing it was expected, he puffed his chest up, huffed the breath out. The case was now theirs and he wasn’t just going to have to play the role of disgruntled detective playing second fiddle but saboteur too. A single dark brow arched, a light cluck of her tongue. ”How quickly did Forbes roll over on your taking of the case?” Probably immediately, her own team’s failure to solve the string of burglaries not the reason the feds were here in the first place but a convenient case to shove into their laps to distract them to the truth of this town.

Broad shoulders rose and fell under the starched white cotton of his shirt. His mouth pinching in a line now as he drew his chair back in. It had been his way of trying to keep her there a moment longer, a masochist’s wildest dream that would only turn into a nightmare later as he spent the rest of the day with his heart aching like a bad tooth in his chest, the raw edges on his temper probably making the rest of the day a misery for his partners. ”Just a few minutes but I thought I’d offer a warm welcome to one of our federal colleagues.” Pointed words from a tongue that had to be restrained for making a plea for just a few moments without the constant oppressive feel of impending hurt between them again. Will glanced sideways and caught her look, not meeting his but settling on his mouth – worse in a way, bringing that thick ache into his throat that wanted to turn into a please.

Will let out a long breath, dropped his head so he wouldn’t have to see her not seeing. He cleared his throat to ease that lump and got nothing but a tighter grip from those invisible fists. Fingers tapped in his password as the screen came to life at least, got that far before it started to stutter again, that whirling blue circle of doom that he cursed a thousand times a day popping into place. His nemesis bringing fresh damnation. This would have been easier, quicker, the thump of his name into a transfer request getting Zoey out of his office in minutes to leave him alone in here to sweep up the shattered shards of his heart that were littering the floor afresh. ”There’s nothing wrong with it, I just need…” That flicker of a window in the centre of the screen as he punched into the system with a stab of fingers again and then it was gone.

A hiss now. The power button punched repeatedly until the screen went dark and he was pushing his way to his feet with his head hung. Thwarted by the damn thing again, temptation to mutter the words with gritted teeth to have it going up in flames like his life. Will pressed his hands to the edge of his desk for a moment, breathing deeply until he was able to lift his head and meet her eye with something more controlled in his expression. ”You’re right, let’s do this the easy way. Gets it done and dusted without any back and forth.” And just an added dozen minutes of torture.

Slipping around the desk, a hand hovering at her back instead of settling on the sway of her spine as it once would’ve done. Even that enough to have the heat of her radiating through his palm. Will nudged the two of them from the room, avoiding glances in the hallway to lead Zoey towards the building’s rear staircase. Away from prying eyes. ”I still can’t …” he admitted grimly as he held that door open for her. ”The computer. I’m … sorry.” Confessions somehow easier in the tighter confines of the staircase. A concrete lined confessional. ”You looked like you were having a bad day and I –“ Day. Christ. The time and date that had been almost the only things visible on the screen as he’d slapped it back into activity. Her birthday and she’d had to come with a plea to him. That not even a handful of years of the ones they’d celebrated together fish bones in an already stinging pride.

Tagged: ZOEY WASHINGTON * Word Count: 1211

He would have stayed heart broken without her here. The jagged shards of his hadn’t moved in his chest in the months they’d been apart. Lodged deep, those splinters had left him bleeding the entire time. That bag in the trunk of his car that had taunted every time he’d opened it, the scent of something he’d made for her, just a glimpse at the hand that still held his wedding ring was enough. Fingers closing in a fist to try and hide it and somehow bring those parts back together before they left him bleeding together failing. Silent prayers cast skyward in his apartment the night after he’d found her at the crime scene, holding together her pride like her skirt, all falling on deaf ears. After years of trying to make amends for others, Will found himself being eternally punished in his own life.

Every ounce of pain he saw on her face now had him on the brink of caving. That fist opening again to give her all that she wanted without argument. He’d done the same when she’d wanted the divorce. Weak arguments had tripped from his lips then but as they seemed to hover there on the edge of the precipice, the truth from his lips the only thing that could bring them back onto safe ground, Will had known he couldn’t do it. Not to her.

Trying to shoulder the burden of what he was doing had ultimately crushed them both.

Will saw every word hit, that surface composure doing an incredible job of burying the pain but his own was there, the ache not enough to keep him from pushing though. Dark brows furrowing for a moment, Will shook his head. Could have but that was one more nail in the coffin he was fighting tooth and claw not to end up buried in, Zoey going right down with him. ”FBI were on the scene but they hadn’t ordered us out. You have to claim the investigation to get precedence, until then the word of the law is all that matters. I gathered the evidence, until it’s signed over, that’s on my head.” And staining his hands, weighing on his heart until he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get this down without his breathing growing ragged and a groan rolling out of him as he tried to wedge his head between his thighs until the world stopped spinning in a way that seemed to threaten to throw him off the ride entirely.

To end straight behind bars with his ex-wife and his betrayal staring at him from the other side of the bars.

Chest puffed, he should’ve been able to withstand Zoey’s barbs. Bouncing away without damage like bullets from Superman’s chest, not burying themselves deep with her dig about his supposed failure in apprehending himself, making it clear where he lay in all of this. Will’s jaw tightened. She knew his soft spots, as surely as he knew his and in her pain Zoey was jabbing at them all. ”We didn’t catch them immediately and so the big boys had to stomp in. I suppose this is the FBI smacking my hands away from the cookies.” And damning themselves in the process … if this wasn’t going to end up with him cut off from it all, his ex-wife throwing up the walls he needed to see behind to keep both of them from being floored by this.

He’d wanted to cave then but pride had him pushing regardless of that ache inside. Hammering away at an increasingly sadistic piece of equipment. There was a reason why he hired this part of things out to an assistant of sorts when he could. The warm welcome fell apart. Reluctance and necessity pushing Will to his feet. At least they wouldn’t be alone in the office anymore, a relief given that just the hover of his hand had her scooting away from him. The pain spread, sinking lead like into his gut until the nausea rose.

As distant as two strangers as they spilled out into the hallway, his head up like he could avoid the scrutiny of the entire station. Trapped together again in the stairwell that should’ve given him more room to breathe than the elevator but it was just as useless. Surrounded by all that concrete the apologies tried to slip out but that was just as big a failure.

Zoey was looking at him again like he would slip in front of her and reveal the man that she’d thought he was, rather than the one he’d always been beneath that veneer they’d all seen. The only one who had ever seen beneath it before now trying to cover it all back up with that paintbrush that would turn him into something, someone else.

No. I moved south for you. To give you the room to heal without me sitting there like a bad reminder. To stop my heart breaking every time I had look at you. The words jammed in his throat as he sagged back against the wall. ”I held on to everything,” he managed hoarsely. One hand came up to thump against his chest, splaying over his heart as he saw the tipping point reached. ”I missed it. When we were in there. It’s horrible timing and I’m sorry.” The word whispered now, just as ineffectual as it had been every time he’d whispered it, slipping in the door late or calling off some commitment because he had somewhere else to be.

The last of her birthdays they’d had together he’d pushed a job for it. Candles on the cake he’d baked when he’d skipped out of work early glowing in a dark apartment when she’d returned. Music a low throb in the air afterwards, the meal he’d cooked set aside as he’d drawn her in to his chest in the candle lit living room. One of the last good times before it had all burned. Now Will wanted to pull her in again and take them both there for a do over.

She was already looking away. Her arm wrapping around herself as though she was holding some shattered part of her together. His own throat aching with regret Will drew away from the wall, his shields falling away as she tried to brush it off. Voice gravelly low, Will shook his head and took a step towards her. ”Screw professionalism, screw going down without you too. Zoey…” He did reach for her then, slow, a hand on the shoulder in full anticipation of her flinching away. That would hurt more, a fresh tearing open of a wound already bleeding. ”Happy birthday,” he breathed as he turned that single hand into both, wrapping his arms around her, braced for her tearing herself away. ”I am sorry. I should’ve known and I shouldn’t have done this today. You can have the evidence … and the case. You can have me out of it, I won’t interfere. This was always yours.” A path that would’ve carried her away from him but he’d encouraged her on it all the same, knowing that some part of her would die without trying. Just as it would’ve done if he had stopped trying to right the wrongs evil men had perpetrated for decades.

Tagged: ZOEY WASHINGTON * Word Count: 1222