|Never Meaning to Send
Author: pygmymuse PM
They don't mean to send the emails, not really. Follows Never Meaning to Say, Thoughts They Cannot Defend, Letters I've Written, Reaching the End, and Just What I'm Going Through They Can't Understand.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Angst/Romance - Megan R. & Don E. - Words: 462 - Reviews: 2 - Favs: 2 - Published: 05-08-11 - Status: Complete - id: 6975869
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Never Meaning to Send
Word Count: 323
Disclaimer: I can't own anything. The pygmies and debt collectors own me.
Summary: They don't mean to send the emails, not really.
Author's Note: Like all in this series, title is off a lyric from "Nights in White Satin" by the Moody Blues. This follows Never Meaning to Say, Thoughts They Cannot Defend, Letters I've Written, Reaching the End, and Just What I'm Going Through (They Can't Understand.)
It's funny, the first installment of this series used this lyric, but... I had a different thought on it while watching the Moody Blues do this song live, and this idea came to me, so I had to write it. :)
Never Meaning to Send
It wasn't much of anything, really, but she stared at it for a very long time. Longer than she should have. Longer than necessary. She couldn't seem to pull her eyes away. Despite everything, this mattered. More than it should, more than she wanted it to.
She took a deep breath, taking a sip of her coffee. She should be working. There was a lot to be done. She still had a job, a badge, and a case. This was not the time to be staring off into space, thinking about what was, what she had lost, and what could never be again.
"Something wrong, Reeves?"
She looked up when she heard her name, but it didn't have the same meaning, the same inflection, and she missed that voice. This man wasn't the same, would never be the same, no matter how good a partner or boss he was. She shook her head. "No, nothing, sir."
"Good. Go home. I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early."
She nodded, but as soon as he had walked away, she sighed. That would never have worked in LA. It would never have gotten past Don or the others. She looked back at her email, her fingers going to the screen.
They weren't supposed to talk. They were going for a clean break. The way the message was written, without a subject line, without punctuation, meant he hadn't meant to send it. It was just two words he had probably intended to delete.
She knew better. She should never have looked at it. She also shouldn't have opened up a reply. They were not going to make this better. It should just stay... like it was. They were separate; they should stay that way. No talking. No emails. No messages, whatever the intention.
miss you, too, she had typed.
She shouldn't do it. She shouldn't hit the button. She did.