Work Text:
Maybe in the directors cut of our lives (with extended commentary), our goodbye took a lot longer. Maybe you started the hug, as you always do, and I kept my arms at my sides, only bringing them up to wrap around you after your shoulders had begun to shake. Maybe you refused to let go. Maybe you had to be peeled off of me, and maybe I didn’t let anyone see that I was holding you just as tightly.
Maybe, in an alternate timeline, in the full version of the scene I keep replaying in my mind, I had done the sensible thing when rearranging our DNA. Maybe I replaced the missing bits of you with the extra bits of me, and vice versa. So maybe, when we said goodbye, you were suddenly able to show your emotions in a way that didn’t involve sobbing and prolonged physical contact, and maybe I was able to show them at all.
Maybe we brought our handshake back, and then brought it in for a hug, and told each other our ‘I’ll miss yous’ and 'live long and prospers,’ and maybe you left with a laugh but brought a piece of me with you, and maybe that would be enough to bring you back home.
Maybe we had a stilted and awkward scene in which I told you everything I never saw the need to, before, because I presumed it was obvious. Maybe I had a short monologue on friendship and loyalty and found a way to tell you how much you mean to me, when that’s the one thing I’ve never quite had the words for.
Maybe we abandoned all pretense and I dropped the clone act. Maybe I forced myself to not need the words, just this once, for you. Maybe I kissed you, because I knew I needed it and was pretty sure you did too, and maybe we made our story just a little bit more heartbreaking for the viewers at home because suddenly we were the next Rick and Ilsa, kissing for the first time as if it were the last because maybe it was. Maybe we were the only ones who realized we weren’t playing characters. Maybe we weren’t.
Maybe it didn’t matter.
Maybe I need to have a word with our producers. You only get one goodbye, after all.