cainesugar
Coroner
Author: Lilly
Title: Where You Make It
Pairing: CaRWash
Summary: As Ryan struggles with the reality of accepting loss, he finds that home isn’t as easily defined as he thought.
A/N: Dutchie inspired me to write this story. One of her FF stories prompted this. I've had it up for a long time at FF but thought I'd post it here and see what people thought. Please don't hate me, I had to kill her. *runs away*
Home.
As if to comfort him, the word found it’s way into his thoughts. Home. He wasn’t sure where home was now, after everything that had happened. Ten years ago, it had been with his parents, in his neat, overly-organized and OCD influenced bedroom in Boston, where he spent his time studying and dreaming of his life and what it had in store for him. Six years ago, it had been in his college dorm room, where he and his buddies had conducted illegal science experiments, read countless chemistry books, and held late-night strip poker games with any girls who were drunk enough to be interested in them. Last year, it had been his cheap Miami apartment, the least exorbitant place he could get within miles of the crime lab. Beginning about seven months ago, it had been laying next to her, in her bed, with her key in his pocket, her taste on his lips, and her soft skin warm on his.
Theirs. Everything in Ryan’s life had suddenly become theirs, and for them, it was perfect. He expected his OCD to take over, but her untidiness didn’t bother him, and his tendency to clean everything was fine by her. Empty cabinets were filled with his own possessions, her refrigerator was soon stocked with his frozen meals, beer, and mineral water, and when she did laundry, she wasn’t surprised to find his boxer shorts and Boston t-shirt next to her bra. When he cooked dinner, or ordered take-out, suddenly he was ordering for two. He knew what she liked, too: lo mien, white rice and orange beef, easy on the sauce, no onions. On the bathroom counter, he put his shaving cream and razor next to hers. His toothbrush was the same color as hers, and every time they discovered that they were using the wrong one, they would fall into a laughing fit, and would be in each other’s arms within minutes. At home, he knew she preferred her bed made with the sides untucked, so that when she got into bed, she didn’t have to tug on the blankets to snuggle in. When she fell asleep, he would rest his head above hers, with his chin on her forehead, and pull her into his chest, where she would cuddle up, her breath warm on his skin. Their lives changed to accommodate each other, and the transition was the most natural thing in the world for them. Eventually, it got to the point where Ryan didn’t remember what his apartment looked like.
It had been the most wonderful seven months of his life.
He remembered the warehouse, and the two of them standing outside of it, as if they had all the time in the world. He remembered the kit, heavy in his hand, and his camera over his shoulder, and how, when the shots went off, he dropped them, and they both clattered against the ground. He remembered her smiling at him, and his heart lighting up. He remembered turning to say something to her, to tell her something, to smile back, say something sweet and witty, and the shots, and drawing his gun. He remembered feeling pain in his arm, as a bullet tore into him, and firing off too many rounds, seeing her go down, and the intoxicating smell of blood. He remembered shooting wildly, and the screeching of tires, as backup pulled up, and a flash of red hair. He remembered Eric’s arms around him, holding him back, his strong body providing the barrier that held Ryan back from reality, and Ryan’s screams, barely audible above the whining sirens. He remembered somehow pushing Eric over, and kneeling down by her, taking her bloodied hands in his, and her silent struggle as he told her over and over again, half-screaming and half-crying, that he loved her.
Everything that had been hers was theirs.
In a heartbeat, their lives ended.
The scene was a familiar one, with the team dressed in black. Horatio hung his head, and stood closest to the giant, looming oak casket. Eric’s eyes were puffy and red. Alexx stood near Eric, as she began to lose her struggle to remain strong for everyone else. Natalia’s sobs remained constant, ringing in his ears, and from time to time, she would take his hand and their eyes would meet.
Through the gun salute, and the speeches, and the lowering of the casket, Ryan didn’t cry. He spotted Eric holding Natalia, cradling her head in his shoulder, as they sobbed together. Alexx put her handkerchief to her eyes and wiped away her own silent tears. Horatio’s eyes became red, and he allowed a sob to escape his mouth as the casket was slowly lowed into the ground. Ryan couldn’t cry. It was as if the wave of sorrow was still a looming in the water, a few feet away from him, and he was standing on the beach. It didn’t last long, and soon, the guests were beginning to mingle. Most left immediately. By the time darkness fell, the headstone had been set, and everyone save for Horatio and Ryan had left for the reception ceremony.
“Mr. Wolfe,” Horatio said, from behind where Ryan stood, “it’s eight o’clock.”
Ryan only nodded, his eyes transfixed on the headstone before him. He sank to his knees and finally, after waiting all day, allowed the tears to fall. He could feel Horatio standing behind him, his sad eyes set on Ryan. Ryan ignored him. He traced his finger delicately over her name. Calleigh Duquesne. He’d seen that name countless times, and never imagined he’d have to see it here. Usually, the sight of it made his heart skip a beat, his eyes light up, and a smile make its way across his face. Now, he sobbed, faced with the same name, and all it brought him was devastation. The reality that faced him was impossible; it was something he could never have imagined in his worst nightmares. He pictured waking up tomorrow morning to an empty bed, walking into the kitchen and making his own coffee, going to kiss the beautiful girl across from him, and realizing there was no one there. After today, he would spend his nights alone, or out with the team, or on a date with a girl who meant nothing to him, and the whole time, would think of her. He wouldn’t have to wait for the shower (or have the option of jumping in with her when he was impatient), or to use the restroom, he wouldn’t squeeze in, pressing his hip to hers and giggling, to see the bathroom mirror as he brushed his teeth, wouldn’t get confused over whose shirt was whose in the laundry, and when he was buying food, the bill would be significantly lower.
“What do I do now?” he choked out.
Horatio pulled him to his feet, and Ryan allowed him to. He didn’t have the energy to fight back, and sitting by Calleigh’s headstone didn’t make him feel better. Horatio placed his hand on Ryan’s shoulder, as if to tell him that it was all okay.
“You can let me take you home.”
Ryan laughed bitterly. Home. “I don’t know where that is anymore.”
"It's where you make it."
"I don't know, H."
But he allowed Horatio to drive him back to Calleigh’s condo, where he took out the old boxes and laid them out in the living room. He knew he couldn’t stay here. Every day would be spent thinking about her, and though he couldn’t imagine a time where he wouldn’t feel this way, he knew that one day, he would have to move on. He began to pack up everything that hadn’t been in her house before he moved in, starting with photos, albums, electronics, and appliances. He dug through the albums he and Calleigh had been putting together, the first a snapshot from the department Christmas party, at which they’d announced that they were a couple. After that, it was photos of them at the beach, at the mall, trying on clothes, on weekend trips to far off paradises, on days when he’d just thought she’d looked especially beautiful, and snuck in a photo of her while snapping pictures of the evidence. On her birthday, he had rented a boat and taken her down to the Florida Keys, where they ate dinner at a small dinner shack on the shore and watched the sunset. Ryan had the shack owner take a picture of them kissing on the boat. He had told her that he loved her for the first time that night. It had only been two months since her birthday, since they stood on the boat and kissed and she was real, she was in his arms, and nothing could have gone wrong.
He smiled weakly and closed the albums, placing them in one of his many boxes, this one labeled ‘pictures.’ Even at a time like this, his OCD had forced him to organize everything.
Ryan walked into the bedroom, as he did every night before bed. Usually, when he came in here, he had Calleigh in his arms, and they were half dressed, clothing flying in every direction. On a night where they were both tired, they would walk in hand-in-hand, and lay together, enjoying the mere company of the other, basking in the eternal love they felt in the contact of each other’s warm skin on their own. He couldn’t remember a time where he had walked into this room alone. On one particular night, only a month and a half ago, they had been full of energy, and after a few passion-filled hours, they finally collapsed in each other’s arms, readily accepting sleep.
“Ryan…” Calleigh had asked. Her voice was muffled, her face buried in his chest, and she was barely coherent, as if she didn’t know what she was saying. And yet, she did.
“Mhm,” he responded, kissing her forehead. He stroked her hair softly, enjoying her slightly sticky skin against his own.
“You love me, right?”
He looked down at her. She was beautiful. Her breathing was soft and warm against his shoulder.
“Of course I do.”
She nodded, and he was sure she’d fall asleep. But she turned her head to the side, and looked into his eyes.
“How do you know?”
He knew what sounded good, and what made sense, and what the right answer was… that he’d loved her when he first saw her, all those years ago at the seminar, when he’d realized that he wanted to be a CSI. That when he first laid eyes on her... that was when he knew. But that wasn’t love, to him. That was admiration. This, he thought, this feeling, what I’m feeling right now, is love. This is how I know.
“Because I’m sure, when you fall asleep in my arms, I’m 100 percent sure, that you’d still be there in the morning. And because I know I’ll still be here too.”
He hadn’t thought about it, about love. When he considered everything, she was his first love. He had never felt this way about anyone before. And that feeling, knowing that she would still be there when he woke up, was the most wonderful feeling in the world.
“I love you, Calleigh Duquesne.”
When he glanced down at her, to kiss her, to look into her eyes, he saw that they were closed, and she was breathing quietly into his shoulder. She was asleep.
Ryan unpacked the closet, removing every single article of his clothing, digging through every drawer, pulling down ever hanger, and occasionally finding an abandoned bra mixed in with his own clothing. He smiled to himself. The first time they’d done laundry together, at the Laundromat downtown, they’d ended up doing everything wrong, and spending the entire day trying to get it right. They were the last ones in the Laundromat, and by the time they left, they were in a fit of giggles, overwhelmed by laugher. It had been one of the simplest days of his life, one that should have been boring, and yet she had made it special. She had a way of doing that.
He made his way to the refrigerator, where he would empty its contents, and opened the doors. He sank down by the fridge, staring into the light, the slight hum relaxing him. He couldn’t remember how many times she’d teased him about his mineral water and frozen meals, but he’d caught her on her day off, a few weeks ago. He had finished up a case early, and decided to come home and surprise her by taking her out to dinner. Because her condo was small, the first thing he saw when he walked in was the kitchen. At the table, sat Calleigh, eating one of the frozen dinners and sipping his mineral water. When she saw him, her eyes went wide.
“You’re off early,” she said, placing the fork down on the plate. Ryan started laughing, and walked over to where she sat.
“Delicious?” he asked, and she smirked at him. He wrapped his arms around her neck and kissed her behind her ear, one of her favorite spots. She sighed, and pressed her lips into his. Her hands wrapped around his hair, and their tongues found one another. When they finally pulled back, they were both out of breath.
“Very,” she said. They abandoned the frozen meal, and any plans of dinner, and made their way to the bedroom.
He was crying again. He closed the door, and promised himself he’d unpack that last. He didn’t want anything to spoil.
Ryan wasn’t ready to get into her bed- their bed- without her beside him. He took his keys, the key to her condo- their condo- and his cell phone. He got into the Hummer and began to drive. He wasn’t even sure where he was going; it was a miracle he wasn’t in an accident. Home. Eventually he’d have to go back to another house, to make that one home. He couldn’t sulk in Calleigh’s condo- besides, it didn’t feel like home without her there.
He pulled up by the side of the road, and looked outside. At first, he didn’t recognize where he was. Then it hit him: this was where he’d worked his first case with Calleigh, when he was a rookie. Her dad had been slightly drunk, and had crashed his car. In the morning, he had found that there was blood on the bumper. The crushed sign had been replaced, the debris cleared, and it was dark, but it still looked the same to Ryan. He would never forget this place.
He placed his fingers on the new sign, in the place where he had found blood all those years ago. He remembered how angry Calleigh had been about her dad, how tough the case was, how important it was to him, to impress her, and the way she’d embraced Ryan, and made him feel like he was part of the team, when it was all over. He felt like his first assignment had been with her for a reason. Even in his state, remembering stubborn, driven Calleigh bossing him around brought a smile to his face.
The wind blew gently, and his hair was blown back, off his face. This was peace. He had his memories. Was he sad? Of course. He would never be the same again. Would he be happy again? Yes. Some people never got the chance to feel what he did, and he knew he had been blessed. Though she was gone from his life forever, the time he had spent with her was the best of his life. He would cherish the memories, embrace those who mourned with him, and never forget about her.
He was going to be okay.
She had been the first he had ever loved, and he knew she had loved him back. Love was a beautiful thing. He stuck by what he said to her those months ago, though now, he knew there was more to it. Of course he knew he wasn’t going to wake up, roll over and see her smiling at him. He wouldn’t get that again. But Ryan knew that if she were here, she’d be there right beside him every single morning. She still was. He still carried her with him, and always would. As long as he kept waking up, she would keep being there, every day.
He was going to be okay.
This was peace, to him. This was home, where everything felt right. Home was where he made it. No matter where he was, she would be there with him every morning. He was home, now. He could get in a submarine, take it a thousand leagues under the sea, and fall asleep, and when he’d wake up, she’d be there. It would always be home, when he had her. And he would always have her.
He was okay.
Title: Where You Make It
Pairing: CaRWash
Summary: As Ryan struggles with the reality of accepting loss, he finds that home isn’t as easily defined as he thought.
A/N: Dutchie inspired me to write this story. One of her FF stories prompted this. I've had it up for a long time at FF but thought I'd post it here and see what people thought. Please don't hate me, I had to kill her. *runs away*
Where You Make It
Home.
As if to comfort him, the word found it’s way into his thoughts. Home. He wasn’t sure where home was now, after everything that had happened. Ten years ago, it had been with his parents, in his neat, overly-organized and OCD influenced bedroom in Boston, where he spent his time studying and dreaming of his life and what it had in store for him. Six years ago, it had been in his college dorm room, where he and his buddies had conducted illegal science experiments, read countless chemistry books, and held late-night strip poker games with any girls who were drunk enough to be interested in them. Last year, it had been his cheap Miami apartment, the least exorbitant place he could get within miles of the crime lab. Beginning about seven months ago, it had been laying next to her, in her bed, with her key in his pocket, her taste on his lips, and her soft skin warm on his.
Theirs. Everything in Ryan’s life had suddenly become theirs, and for them, it was perfect. He expected his OCD to take over, but her untidiness didn’t bother him, and his tendency to clean everything was fine by her. Empty cabinets were filled with his own possessions, her refrigerator was soon stocked with his frozen meals, beer, and mineral water, and when she did laundry, she wasn’t surprised to find his boxer shorts and Boston t-shirt next to her bra. When he cooked dinner, or ordered take-out, suddenly he was ordering for two. He knew what she liked, too: lo mien, white rice and orange beef, easy on the sauce, no onions. On the bathroom counter, he put his shaving cream and razor next to hers. His toothbrush was the same color as hers, and every time they discovered that they were using the wrong one, they would fall into a laughing fit, and would be in each other’s arms within minutes. At home, he knew she preferred her bed made with the sides untucked, so that when she got into bed, she didn’t have to tug on the blankets to snuggle in. When she fell asleep, he would rest his head above hers, with his chin on her forehead, and pull her into his chest, where she would cuddle up, her breath warm on his skin. Their lives changed to accommodate each other, and the transition was the most natural thing in the world for them. Eventually, it got to the point where Ryan didn’t remember what his apartment looked like.
It had been the most wonderful seven months of his life.
He remembered the warehouse, and the two of them standing outside of it, as if they had all the time in the world. He remembered the kit, heavy in his hand, and his camera over his shoulder, and how, when the shots went off, he dropped them, and they both clattered against the ground. He remembered her smiling at him, and his heart lighting up. He remembered turning to say something to her, to tell her something, to smile back, say something sweet and witty, and the shots, and drawing his gun. He remembered feeling pain in his arm, as a bullet tore into him, and firing off too many rounds, seeing her go down, and the intoxicating smell of blood. He remembered shooting wildly, and the screeching of tires, as backup pulled up, and a flash of red hair. He remembered Eric’s arms around him, holding him back, his strong body providing the barrier that held Ryan back from reality, and Ryan’s screams, barely audible above the whining sirens. He remembered somehow pushing Eric over, and kneeling down by her, taking her bloodied hands in his, and her silent struggle as he told her over and over again, half-screaming and half-crying, that he loved her.
Everything that had been hers was theirs.
In a heartbeat, their lives ended.
The scene was a familiar one, with the team dressed in black. Horatio hung his head, and stood closest to the giant, looming oak casket. Eric’s eyes were puffy and red. Alexx stood near Eric, as she began to lose her struggle to remain strong for everyone else. Natalia’s sobs remained constant, ringing in his ears, and from time to time, she would take his hand and their eyes would meet.
Through the gun salute, and the speeches, and the lowering of the casket, Ryan didn’t cry. He spotted Eric holding Natalia, cradling her head in his shoulder, as they sobbed together. Alexx put her handkerchief to her eyes and wiped away her own silent tears. Horatio’s eyes became red, and he allowed a sob to escape his mouth as the casket was slowly lowed into the ground. Ryan couldn’t cry. It was as if the wave of sorrow was still a looming in the water, a few feet away from him, and he was standing on the beach. It didn’t last long, and soon, the guests were beginning to mingle. Most left immediately. By the time darkness fell, the headstone had been set, and everyone save for Horatio and Ryan had left for the reception ceremony.
“Mr. Wolfe,” Horatio said, from behind where Ryan stood, “it’s eight o’clock.”
Ryan only nodded, his eyes transfixed on the headstone before him. He sank to his knees and finally, after waiting all day, allowed the tears to fall. He could feel Horatio standing behind him, his sad eyes set on Ryan. Ryan ignored him. He traced his finger delicately over her name. Calleigh Duquesne. He’d seen that name countless times, and never imagined he’d have to see it here. Usually, the sight of it made his heart skip a beat, his eyes light up, and a smile make its way across his face. Now, he sobbed, faced with the same name, and all it brought him was devastation. The reality that faced him was impossible; it was something he could never have imagined in his worst nightmares. He pictured waking up tomorrow morning to an empty bed, walking into the kitchen and making his own coffee, going to kiss the beautiful girl across from him, and realizing there was no one there. After today, he would spend his nights alone, or out with the team, or on a date with a girl who meant nothing to him, and the whole time, would think of her. He wouldn’t have to wait for the shower (or have the option of jumping in with her when he was impatient), or to use the restroom, he wouldn’t squeeze in, pressing his hip to hers and giggling, to see the bathroom mirror as he brushed his teeth, wouldn’t get confused over whose shirt was whose in the laundry, and when he was buying food, the bill would be significantly lower.
“What do I do now?” he choked out.
Horatio pulled him to his feet, and Ryan allowed him to. He didn’t have the energy to fight back, and sitting by Calleigh’s headstone didn’t make him feel better. Horatio placed his hand on Ryan’s shoulder, as if to tell him that it was all okay.
“You can let me take you home.”
Ryan laughed bitterly. Home. “I don’t know where that is anymore.”
"It's where you make it."
"I don't know, H."
But he allowed Horatio to drive him back to Calleigh’s condo, where he took out the old boxes and laid them out in the living room. He knew he couldn’t stay here. Every day would be spent thinking about her, and though he couldn’t imagine a time where he wouldn’t feel this way, he knew that one day, he would have to move on. He began to pack up everything that hadn’t been in her house before he moved in, starting with photos, albums, electronics, and appliances. He dug through the albums he and Calleigh had been putting together, the first a snapshot from the department Christmas party, at which they’d announced that they were a couple. After that, it was photos of them at the beach, at the mall, trying on clothes, on weekend trips to far off paradises, on days when he’d just thought she’d looked especially beautiful, and snuck in a photo of her while snapping pictures of the evidence. On her birthday, he had rented a boat and taken her down to the Florida Keys, where they ate dinner at a small dinner shack on the shore and watched the sunset. Ryan had the shack owner take a picture of them kissing on the boat. He had told her that he loved her for the first time that night. It had only been two months since her birthday, since they stood on the boat and kissed and she was real, she was in his arms, and nothing could have gone wrong.
He smiled weakly and closed the albums, placing them in one of his many boxes, this one labeled ‘pictures.’ Even at a time like this, his OCD had forced him to organize everything.
Ryan walked into the bedroom, as he did every night before bed. Usually, when he came in here, he had Calleigh in his arms, and they were half dressed, clothing flying in every direction. On a night where they were both tired, they would walk in hand-in-hand, and lay together, enjoying the mere company of the other, basking in the eternal love they felt in the contact of each other’s warm skin on their own. He couldn’t remember a time where he had walked into this room alone. On one particular night, only a month and a half ago, they had been full of energy, and after a few passion-filled hours, they finally collapsed in each other’s arms, readily accepting sleep.
“Ryan…” Calleigh had asked. Her voice was muffled, her face buried in his chest, and she was barely coherent, as if she didn’t know what she was saying. And yet, she did.
“Mhm,” he responded, kissing her forehead. He stroked her hair softly, enjoying her slightly sticky skin against his own.
“You love me, right?”
He looked down at her. She was beautiful. Her breathing was soft and warm against his shoulder.
“Of course I do.”
She nodded, and he was sure she’d fall asleep. But she turned her head to the side, and looked into his eyes.
“How do you know?”
He knew what sounded good, and what made sense, and what the right answer was… that he’d loved her when he first saw her, all those years ago at the seminar, when he’d realized that he wanted to be a CSI. That when he first laid eyes on her... that was when he knew. But that wasn’t love, to him. That was admiration. This, he thought, this feeling, what I’m feeling right now, is love. This is how I know.
“Because I’m sure, when you fall asleep in my arms, I’m 100 percent sure, that you’d still be there in the morning. And because I know I’ll still be here too.”
He hadn’t thought about it, about love. When he considered everything, she was his first love. He had never felt this way about anyone before. And that feeling, knowing that she would still be there when he woke up, was the most wonderful feeling in the world.
“I love you, Calleigh Duquesne.”
When he glanced down at her, to kiss her, to look into her eyes, he saw that they were closed, and she was breathing quietly into his shoulder. She was asleep.
Ryan unpacked the closet, removing every single article of his clothing, digging through every drawer, pulling down ever hanger, and occasionally finding an abandoned bra mixed in with his own clothing. He smiled to himself. The first time they’d done laundry together, at the Laundromat downtown, they’d ended up doing everything wrong, and spending the entire day trying to get it right. They were the last ones in the Laundromat, and by the time they left, they were in a fit of giggles, overwhelmed by laugher. It had been one of the simplest days of his life, one that should have been boring, and yet she had made it special. She had a way of doing that.
He made his way to the refrigerator, where he would empty its contents, and opened the doors. He sank down by the fridge, staring into the light, the slight hum relaxing him. He couldn’t remember how many times she’d teased him about his mineral water and frozen meals, but he’d caught her on her day off, a few weeks ago. He had finished up a case early, and decided to come home and surprise her by taking her out to dinner. Because her condo was small, the first thing he saw when he walked in was the kitchen. At the table, sat Calleigh, eating one of the frozen dinners and sipping his mineral water. When she saw him, her eyes went wide.
“You’re off early,” she said, placing the fork down on the plate. Ryan started laughing, and walked over to where she sat.
“Delicious?” he asked, and she smirked at him. He wrapped his arms around her neck and kissed her behind her ear, one of her favorite spots. She sighed, and pressed her lips into his. Her hands wrapped around his hair, and their tongues found one another. When they finally pulled back, they were both out of breath.
“Very,” she said. They abandoned the frozen meal, and any plans of dinner, and made their way to the bedroom.
He was crying again. He closed the door, and promised himself he’d unpack that last. He didn’t want anything to spoil.
Ryan wasn’t ready to get into her bed- their bed- without her beside him. He took his keys, the key to her condo- their condo- and his cell phone. He got into the Hummer and began to drive. He wasn’t even sure where he was going; it was a miracle he wasn’t in an accident. Home. Eventually he’d have to go back to another house, to make that one home. He couldn’t sulk in Calleigh’s condo- besides, it didn’t feel like home without her there.
He pulled up by the side of the road, and looked outside. At first, he didn’t recognize where he was. Then it hit him: this was where he’d worked his first case with Calleigh, when he was a rookie. Her dad had been slightly drunk, and had crashed his car. In the morning, he had found that there was blood on the bumper. The crushed sign had been replaced, the debris cleared, and it was dark, but it still looked the same to Ryan. He would never forget this place.
He placed his fingers on the new sign, in the place where he had found blood all those years ago. He remembered how angry Calleigh had been about her dad, how tough the case was, how important it was to him, to impress her, and the way she’d embraced Ryan, and made him feel like he was part of the team, when it was all over. He felt like his first assignment had been with her for a reason. Even in his state, remembering stubborn, driven Calleigh bossing him around brought a smile to his face.
The wind blew gently, and his hair was blown back, off his face. This was peace. He had his memories. Was he sad? Of course. He would never be the same again. Would he be happy again? Yes. Some people never got the chance to feel what he did, and he knew he had been blessed. Though she was gone from his life forever, the time he had spent with her was the best of his life. He would cherish the memories, embrace those who mourned with him, and never forget about her.
He was going to be okay.
She had been the first he had ever loved, and he knew she had loved him back. Love was a beautiful thing. He stuck by what he said to her those months ago, though now, he knew there was more to it. Of course he knew he wasn’t going to wake up, roll over and see her smiling at him. He wouldn’t get that again. But Ryan knew that if she were here, she’d be there right beside him every single morning. She still was. He still carried her with him, and always would. As long as he kept waking up, she would keep being there, every day.
He was going to be okay.
This was peace, to him. This was home, where everything felt right. Home was where he made it. No matter where he was, she would be there with him every morning. He was home, now. He could get in a submarine, take it a thousand leagues under the sea, and fall asleep, and when he’d wake up, she’d be there. It would always be home, when he had her. And he would always have her.
He was okay.
