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“If you were to die this evening, what would you regret never telling anyone?”
Study sessions often ended like this. The two college students sprawled out on a haphazardly spread blanket on the floor of Lana’s apartment, speaking about everything and nothing at once as some random, horrible movie filled the rest of the silence.
They’d pretend to pay attention to the first act of it as their thoughts lay elsewhere, centered on how close they were, or the way their hands grazed each other accidentally when one of them adjusted their position. Mia habitually broke their attention first and posed some mindless, unimportant question. Whether she was asking about some incomprehensible plot point or something as mundane as dinner the next day, Lana’s response was always the same.
Quiet, Fey.
And Mia would never listen. She’d tilt her head to the side and fail to hide her smile before refusing Lana’s command and asking some other meaningless question. The dance would repeat until the older student gave in, responding to the forced attempt at conversation with a sigh and reluctant answer.
It was a game they played with unbreakable regularity, but today was different. For once Lana asked the question, something far more meaningful than the drivel Mia usually opted for. It was just a strange thought exercise, a question she’d read in some magazine that got the better of her curiosity.
They’d laid silently in the dark for what felt like several minutes before Mia found her answer.
“I’d regret never telling you I loved you. Because I do.”
It felt like a gunshot, the way those words pierced her and sent her mind reeling backwards for any semblance of a proper response.
Lana blamed herself for posing such a serious question. Perhaps she’d had too little faith in Mia, expecting her to give some sarcastic remark instead of a straight answer.
Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had said that to her. After her parents had passed away several years ago, there wasn’t anybody to say that to her. She still had Ema, and there was no doubt that her young sister loved her, but it wasn’t a phrase she’d ever grown a habit of using.
The lack of such a blunt admission up until this point made her feel… Well, like she didn’t deserve it. The entire relationship was rather absurd, wasn’t it? Mia was so… so perfect and Lana was just some tired college student playing mom to her younger sister and sustaining herself on unachievable ambitions. And despite this they were still here, laying on the ground as Mia’s admission filled the space between them.
“Sorry,” she breathed, apologizing for the metal fragments in her body, the million thoughts that came with such a revelation.
Mia frowned gently, turning to stare at her girlfriend. “You don’t have to apologize for anything. You don’t even have to say–”
“I love you too.”
---
“So.”
“So,” Lana repeated.
They were silent for a few painfully long seconds, both lost for words.
How were you supposed to do something like this? After almost two years of dating, calling an end to it was painful for both of them. But they were getting older, moving into different parts of their lives and unfortunately, no longer had any room for each other.
Or, a more accurate description, Lana no longer had room for her.
She'd been scouted by the Los Angeles Police Department within days of her graduation. Top of her class and dreaming of the chance to become an officer, it was to the surprise of absolutely no one that she’d been contacted directly by the Deputy Chief for an immediate job offer. Between her new position and raising her ever-growing little sister, she no longer had time for a relationship.
She’d fought that truth off as long as she could, but Mia didn’t deserve that.
After sitting down and discussing the changes in her life, they’d reached a painful conclusion together. What they had was lovely, but no longer sustainable. And here they stood now, on the porch of Lana’s apartment, staring at each other and silently mourning what they knew they had to lose.
“You look so sad, Laney,” Mia finally said, breaking their silent staring contest as gently as she could manage. “You shouldn’t be.”
She frowned at her, caught off guard. “Why’s that?”
“Just at you. Barely out of college and already going places. You’re– God, you’re just as unbelievable as ever.”
Her confusion gave way to a tender mix of vexation and sadness. “Mia, it would be nice if you didn’t compliment me while we’re breaking up.”
“It’s not breaking up, we’re just…” She paused, searching for the proper word. It brought the tense silence back for a split second before she broke it again. “Drifting.”
“Drifting.” Lana took a breath. “Yeah, I guess that’s it.”
“You’re blaming yourself, aren’t you?”
Lana had known from the start that dating another law student was a horrible idea. She saw through everything, even the lies Lana told herself. She shifted her weight uncomfortably, turning her head away so that she might not have to face the woman in front of her..
That was enough of a confirmation for Mia. “You have a full job now, a little sister to raise, and I’m still in college. I think we both knew from the start that things might end like this.”
“That would have been the smart prediction, yes.” But love made them foolish, and Lana had truly tricked herself into believing that maybe things wouldn’t ever need to end. She’d thought that maybe it would always work, and this moment would never come.
And it stung now. It stabbed her in the chest and ripped the knife away, leaving her to bleed out.
Mia raised a hand and took her chin, bringing her back to make eye contact. The move made Lana melt, and the knife torn from her chest was plunged right back in, piercing her broken heart yet again.
“We’ll keep in touch. And one day, when I’m a defense lawyer and you’re a legendary prosecutor, I’ll crush you in court. I promise.”
Her earnestness brought the faintest hint of a smile to Lana’s face. Mia’s pure heart, her conviction, she’d see it all again one day. And while they’d be long past this moment, long past their feelings, maybe part of it would never die. “That’s a promise I’ll never let you fulfill, Fey.”
“We’ll see about that, Detective Skye.” Mia pulled her in close for one last hug, a motion she hastily returned. They held on for as long as they could possibly justify before Lana let go for the final time. With her promise and a kind smile that Lana would never forget, Mia left the porch. Lana watched her go, waiting until she was all the way out of sight before she entered her apartment and closed the door.
The knife was still lodged in her chest and despite their goodbye, Lana didn’t think it would ever be taken out. It would stay stuck right there with that fragmented bullet, plugging in the feelings and tears that wanted to seep out of her and stain the ground beneath her feet.
She’d never be over Mia Fey.
---
“Chief Prosecutor Skye.”
That voice… She hadn’t heard it in years, and would have been satisfied waiting many, many more. No, with the person she’d become, it would have been far more satisfactory to never hear it again.
But she turned around, facing her opponent with an uncomfortably stoic expression. “Mia Fey,” she greeted in return.
She looked more mature than she had all those years ago, though Lana was silently glad to see the scarf never went away. While she’d never tell her, Lana had been keeping track of Mia’s progress over the years. From her first case that ended in tragedy, to the poisoning of her now comatose boyfriend, to taking a former defendant under her wing and continuing on by herself, she’d kept track of it all. Mia was making quite a name for herself and while this was painful in ways that the defense attorney would never know, Lana was proud of her.
Mia stared at her, pondering something.
“You know, you’re a lot more…”
As Mia searched for the proper word, Lana completed the sentence in her head.
Cold.
Cruel.
Heartless.
“...strict than you once were.” Mia finished her sentence with a kind smile. “I don’t think I’ve seen your shoulders relax since you started talking to the Police Chief a moment ago. But I guess that’s part of the job, huh?”
“Yes. Things get quite stressful with our positions.” Lana lied straight through her teeth. Mia did not need to be burdened with the true reason behind her demeanor. And even if the Chief Prosecutor had any hope that Mia could–or would help her with this predicament she found herself in two months ago, strings bound to her wrists bound her from revealing nothing of the sort.
Mia’s smile faltered and for a moment, Lana was sure that she’d seen right through the lie, right through the locks fastened over her heart. But she chuckled, placing a hand on her hip. “It’s been years, Lana. There’s no need to be so formal with me.”
Mia was almost certainly under the assumption that they’d moved past that old college… fling . She’d gotten a boyfriend, gone on to become a brilliant defense attorney. And to Mia, they were meeting again not as awkward exes, but as friends who understood that their lives went where they needed to.
She was envious of that naive take.
It was a shameful thing to admit, but she hadn’t dated or pursued anybody since they ended things. She let her work absorb her, the tight bonds she forged with her colleagues and younger sister patching up the giant hole that her own failure had hammered into her heart. And while she cared for them deeply, the aftermath of SL-9 had undone that careful patchwork.
Nobody cared for Lana Skye anymore, and she’d found herself missing Mia once again.
“The job demands it, Ms. Fey. We are opponents in this case.” Another shameless lie.
Unfortunately, Mia didn’t seem to fall for that one. “Then perhaps when the case is over, when we’re not opponents , you’ll accompany me for a meal? Like friends , you know?”
Lana felt the scarf around her neck tighten, gripped by the hands she’d once held and kissed. She swallowed, her mouth entirely dry as she spat out the only answer she could save herself. “Fraternization between defense attorneys and prosecutors is expressly frowned upon–”
“By you,” Mia retorted with that same sharp wit.
There was never any escape from her.
“That doesn’t change–”
“Just think about it, okay?” She cut her off once more. “And when you’ve reached a decision, just call or text. My number hasn’t changed.” Mia smiled at her again and Lana knew she didn’t deserve it.
She watched as the love of her life left the prosecution lobby, leaving her just as stricken as she always did.
Lana was being strangled, lost for words as the red muffler at her neck cut her connection to everything she’d once held dear.
Her own thoughts betrayed what little grip on herself she still had. Wasn’t this what she’d always wanted, to be a great prosecutor and use the skills she’d developed since she was young to carve a path for herself?
If that was what she’d always wanted, why was she burdened like this, with the murderous words of the woman she still deeply loved?
Why the hell wasn’t she over her?