It's the little things, she thought, that I'll miss the most.

How could she not know what she held in her arms? Looking back, being blinded to the treasure she had was the greatest mistake of her life.

She would miss how he stomped his feet as he entered the office, and catching a whiff of strong coffee before she actually saw him. How the smell permeated the office when she showed up later than him to work (which didn't happen often.)

She would miss the way he would sometimes stop talking and just LOOK at her, and she would get lost in his depths of his dark, dark eyes…. She would miss the way he turned out the light on her when she worked too long, and didn't respond to his subtle hints that it was time she head home. She would miss his particular way of knocking when he came to her apartment. His casual way of glancing over his shoulder as he said bye. The way he ran his fingers down the side of her face. The way he kissed her…

The tears just kept coming, and the beautiful woman's face was streaked with tears and makeup. She sat by a hospital bed, looking at the man who was the world to her, the man she loved with all of her heart…

She took his hand, and tried to stop the tears. He wasn't really gone… not yet. And she would fight to keep him. She would fight to tell him what she should have made known all along.

"I love you, Mia." He had used her name, then. He always did when he said something he wanted her to remember.

She had pressed his lips against his, perfectly content, perfectly happy to let everything play out as it had been.

Why hadn't she told him? She whispered it over and over again, now.

"I love you, Diego. I really do. I wish with all my heart, that I had told you. I love you, plain and simple…"

Over and over.

"I love you, Diego."

Maybe he heard it in his sleep. Maybe he knew, finally, what she should have told him.

"You're beautiful, Mia. You're a unique kind of beautiful. Different from any other woman. Do you know, when I kiss you, I get this feeling. Your kiss is the only thing in the world that's deeper and more flavored than my coffee."

It would be hard to live without him, every day, every night. To live knowing she could not call him in the middle of the night to stay up late with her while she was working a case. To live knowing he would not be at the office when she went to work every day. To live without walking to lunch by his side every day... to live without teasing him about his obsession with coffee.

But it would be harder still to live without the sound of his footsteps, the gentle sound of his breathing as they both concentrated on their work late at night. His compliments when she was having the worst day. His umbrella in the rain. His hand smoothing her hair.

It was living without the little things that Mia dreaded the most.