It was dark. The air he breathed had a slightly metallic taste to it, stale and cold and he trembled slightly. He couldn’t see his hands before his eyes so he felt his way along a wet, clammy surface…stone? He didn’t know how long he had been there, all he knew was that he was chilled to the bone and tired and that he had to go on…Ros needed him.

Although there was no sound to be heard, not even that of his own breathing, Ros’ voice was clear in his mind, anguished and calling him again and again.

He stumbled blindly along and…opened his eyes - had they been closed all this time? - to see Ros held at gunpoint, a faceless man's arms tight around her, pinning her arms to her body. Her face was impassive, like a mask, and he shuddered. Not a flicker of recognition passed across her features as the man hissed, “Beckett!”

“Let her go!” he pressed out uncertainly, knowing it was futile, the moment the words left his lips. But what else could he do? He was so tired all of a sudden, cold and lonely and all that mattered to him then was Ros. His life centred around her motionless figure, on her eyes that seemed void of all emotion.

“Love me!” he pleaded, but she remained standing there, staring at nothing as the shot rang through the air…

Panting, Beckett sat up in bed, pushing back the blanket and getting up before he had time to form a coherent thought. Realising he was standing, his heart racing, watching the milky shadows of the full room near his bed, he slumped down on his bed again and tried to still his rapid breathing.

This was decidedly the worst way to find out he still cared for Ros; that he needed her more than anything else and couldn’t bear to let her go. All that he had to give, all that he was willing to share - it was for Ros alone. And that thought was enough to make him feel uncomfortably vulnerable.

The only way not to expose himself was to get back control, to regain his composure, but he was quite sure that it would fail him one of these days. Working day after day with the woman one loved without being at liberty to tell her what one had so gladly spoken of only a short while ago… If it hadn’t been for Terry’s death, Beckett believed, he would still be with Ros. Somehow she put the blame on him, or maybe it was just the shock of losing someone close to her… He wouldn’t know unless he asked. And suddenly it occurred to him that he had never done just that. He had never demanded Ros explain why she had pushed him away.

He should have questioned her - but that was not in his nature now, was it? Well, after this dream, sleep was impossible to contemplate and the only thing that would somehow ease his doubts would be to talk to Ros… Sighing deeply, Beckett stood up and grabbed his trousers, pulling one of the sweaters from beside the couch, where they lay in a neat pile due to lack of a cupboard; he dressed in the moonlit shadows and searched for his car keys amidst the files that lay scattered across his low table.

While he was driving towards Ros’ apartment he began to question his reasons for going to see her and his courage was on the point of failing him when he turned off the engine in front of her place. But the memory of the dream still assailed him and he shuddered, the images in his mind, the total void in Ros’ eyes, the not-knowing him was too painful to be endured and so he got out of the car and walked to the door, unable to do anything else. He hesitated a split-second at the bell, yet he pushed it, wincing slightly at the thought of what Ros would say when she heard the insistent ringing that demanded she wake up.

~*~

It seemed like ages till the door was flung open violently and Ros’ sleepy face, etched with obvious displeasure greeted him with more reproach than her cold ‘Beckett’.

He swallowed, trying to find words to say that he needed to talk to her, that he wanted to…but as he stepped forward, into the pale light of the moon, his hands raised a little as if in supplication, Ros gasped, reaching out, laying her hand on his arm.

“Nick! You look dreadful! What is it? Something wrong with the others? Ed? Alex? Jan? Come in!”

He managed to shake his head, but his face seemed to convince Ros that there was something wrong, and it was impossible to make her understand, as he couldn’t speak, he was boneless and tired and all he wanted was to close his eyes… Seating Beckett on the sofa, Ros got him a glass of whiskey, her brows furrowed. It wasn’t like Nick at all to be so…helpless and disturbed by anything. Sipping at his glass, relishing the burning of the liquor in his empty stomach, Beckett finally managed to raise his eyes to Ros’ and mumble, “I love you.”

Whatever she had expected, it was obviously not a declaration of this kind. Her eyes widened, but, to her guest’s immense satisfaction she didn’t bolt from the room at once. He felt the need to explain himself, to tell her that he had never stopped to love her, that his feelings were too strong to change, that he needed her, instead he said,

“If you’d be more comfortable, I can leave the Bureau…”

Why had he said that now? Did he really care for her in this or was this just a convenient way to escape from having to see her every day knowing that he couldn’t have her?

“Don’t be silly.”

Ros’ voice was firm, cool. She didn’t know what scared her more --Beckett’s confession or her own reaction to it. Not that she was surprised to find she still cared, but had she not believed it was necessary to keep him away…to protect herself? If Terry’s death could hurt so much, how much more would it cost her if anything happened to Beckett?

Could she find the strength to turn him down, to push away the love he offered her? Or did she have the courage to stand by her feelings and open her arms to him? Looking at his face, she couldn’t help but draw him closer, till he leaned against her and she hugged him, comfortable warmth creeping over her at the body contact.

“Let me sleep on it,” she murmured and he nodded against her shoulder, letting her decide the future, giving her total power…

“No.” Ros whispered. She couldn’t. She’d be damned to hell if she let one more moment pass like this. At the one word, Beckett had straightened himself up, stood up, carefully putting down his glass, trying to keep his dignity as he walked slowly out of the room… He had barely made it to the door, when he heard footsteps, felt a hand on his arm that compelled him to turn around…he was pushed against the door frame and drawn into a tight embrace,

“No, Nick. I can’t let you leave me. I can’t.”

Pulling Ros closer, Beckett whispered against her hair,
“I’m yours for however long you want me.”

“Then you’re bound for life.”

Beckett smiled, “I hoped you’d say that.”

He saw the milky circles of the moonlight on the furniture, rejoicing in the peace of the night, just before Ros kissed him…

The End.

The story was inspired by this wonderful song:
The Best of Me (Bryan Adams)

Sometimes words are hard to find
I’m looking for the perfect line
To let you know you’re always on my mind
Yeah this is love - n’ I’ve learned enough to know
I’m never lettin’ go…no, no, no won’t let go

When you want it - when you need it
You’ll always have the best of me
I can’t help it - believe it
You’ll always get the best of me

I may not always know what’s right
But I know I want you here tonight
Gonna make this moment last for all your life
Oh yeah this is love - n’ it really means so much
I can tell from every touch…no, no, no - can’t get enough

When you want it …

The song “The best of me” is copyrighted by Badman ltd. 1999 and sung by Bryan Adams (on the album “The Best of Me”, Badman ltd 1999); no copyright infringement is intended.