A/N: I've recently gotten hooked on this show, and I was listening to Maroon 5's new song "Daylight" in the car today and realized that it's basically perfect for the Alex/Wes situation. Or, well, I think so at least. That was the inspiration for this story anyway, and I highly recommend listening to it. Obviously the show just started, so characterization is a little difficult at this point, but I gave it my best shot. This is from Alex's point of view, because I've gathered that she's the one that left Wes. I'm not entirely sure if Wes actually got shot, but I was inspired by other writers that took that take on the situation, and I think it's fitting. Anyway, long-winded start, but I always feel the need to over-explain my thought process.

On another note, if you've been following my White Collar story (which I admit, I've basically abandoned), Retribution, I apologize. I haven't worked on it or looked at it since the last time I updated. My muse ran off. If anyone would like to collaborate, or has an idea for how to continue, I'd love to hear it. What can I say, life's been hectic.

On to the story!

5 a.m. The sun would be up soon. She had finally made a decision. She knew what she had to do. It was the worst of the scenarios she'd played out in her head, but she knew it was what she had to do for herself. For her sanity. For her heart.

She had to move on.

Lying awake in the darkness with the last tendrils of moonlight filtering in through the window, she watched him sleeping peacefully. It was the first night in months that he'd slept through the night. That was how she knew it was time. He'd recovered, and it was time for her to go.

He wasn't himself these days. She blamed that on the emotional and physical trauma of having a bullet tear a hole through him. But she also blamed him, which she hated herself for. It wasn't his fault he got shot, part of her reasoned. But it was his fault that he left the safety of the law office for the dangers of the LAPD.

She watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, the moonlight just barely catching his face. She ran a hand through his soft blonde hair and his face angled toward her, relaxing at her touch. Swallowing hard, she fought the tears that were struggling to escape. She'd never get through the day if she started crying now. She continued running her fingers through his hair, trying to memorize the feeling. He smiled almost unnoticeably in his sleep.

She loved Wes. More than anything in the world. The sound of his voice put her at ease. His laughter was like her personal sunshine. And being in his arms was home to her.

But she wasn't going to watch him get himself killed because he felt guilty about something that happened years ago. She just couldn't do it. And he was too damn stubborn and selfish to understand that. Even after everything that had happened in the past few months, no matter how much she pleaded with him, he wouldn't leave the force. Finally she realized that she couldn't change him, or who he was becoming, but she could change herself. To do that, she had to leave. She couldn't be this close to him if something happened. If Wes—

She couldn't finish that thought.

No, if anything happened to him, it would destroy her. She would never recover. Hell, she'd barely recovered from when he'd been shot six months ago. She loved Wes so completely it was practically all consuming. But she hadn't signed up for this. She couldn't be here if he was going to put himself in harm's way every day, praying that he'd make it home that night.

Moving on was the only realistic option. He wouldn't be swayed on the cop thing, and she couldn't be a cop's wife. It was an impossible situation. Which is why she'd drawn up divorce papers. Tomorrow was his day off, and they'd agreed to spend the day at home because it was supposed to rain. This was her opportunity.

She had rehearsed what she was going to say a thousand times. But she knew as soon as she looked into his eyes she was going to forget it all. Picturing the exact look on his face was difficult, but she tried to imagine it to prepare herself. Wes was a tough, strong man, and she'd rarely seen him break down. But when something really got to him, he had a look that was absolutely devastating. His bright blue eyes and light blonde hair already made him look younger than he was, but coupled with this look he seemed all of twelve years old. It was the look he'd had when his grandfather died. The grandfather that had all but raised him, taught him about baseball and the law. God, she thought she'd never see him smile again in the weeks following his death. Eventually, though, he started to heal. That was what she had to remember. Eventually, he dealt with the pain, and learned how to live through it.

She tried to forget that she was most of the reason he'd eventually recovered. Wes was a strong man, but inside he was a deeply emotional person and it took a lot of work to draw him out of himself. Someone else was going to have to help him with this. She hoped Travis was up to the challenge, but with his inherent immaturity she sincerely doubted it. Wes and Travis were close, but that didn't mean Wes shared his innermost feelings with him.

She couldn't worry about that anymore. She had to forget it, block it from her mind. She had to think of herself for once. Wes didn't seem concerned with her feelings on this matter, and she had to be less concerned with his feelings.

The irritating part of her mind piped up to remind her that she was the only thing in the world he truly cared about. Except his damned job said the rational (angry) part of her. The time for changing her mind was over. The papers were prepared, she just needed his signature and that was the end.

Birds were chirping in the trees outside the window now, and sunlight was very slowly beginning to replace the moon. Her stomach churned at the thought. Wes had always been an early riser, and he would be up by 7 a.m. at the very latest. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was now 5:45. It was almost time. She had planned to shower and make breakfast before he woke up, mostly because she couldn't sleep, but also because she needed to be wide awake and thinking clearly if she was going to control this situation.

She brushed her fingers through his hair one last time. She lay still for a moment longer, taking in his sleeping form for the last time. The gentle slopes of his face, the strong shoulders and chest she felt so comforted by, the long lines of his tall frame covered by the sheets. She committed it all to memory, because this was the last night. Acting on instinct before she could stop herself, she leaned over him and quietly whispered, "I love you Wes," before softly kissing his lips. He mumbled something incoherent and rolled slightly closer to her. She bit her lip to keep the pain and tears at bay, then quickly pulled away and got out of bed.

Daylight was on its way, and there was no turning back. She didn't want to start over, but it was the only way. She couldn't live like this anymore. She loved Wes, but she couldn't let his job keep her from living. And that's what it was doing. Worrying about him all day long sapped her strength. She couldn't protect him from his job, but she could protect her heart from him.

As she stepped into the shower, daylight was beginning to make its way through the windows. She steeled her heart for when she had to break his.

"Goodbye Wes," she whispered to herself.