Chapter Text
I can see you standing, honey
With his arms around your body
Laughin', but the joke's not funny at all
And it took you five whole minutes
To pack us up and leave me with it
Holdin' all this love out here in the hall
I think I've seen this film before
And I didn't like the ending
You're not my homeland anymore
So what am I defending now?
You were my town
Now I'm in exile, seein' you out
I think I've seen this film before
I can see you starin', honey
Like he's just your understudy
Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me
Second, third, and hundredth chances
Balancin' on breaking branches
Those eyes add insult to injury
I think I've seen this film before
And I didn't like the ending
I'm not your problem anymore
So who am I offending now?
You were my crown
Now I'm in exile, seein' you out
I think I've seen this film before
So I'm leavin' out the side door
*******
Tim has always hated these things.
Fundraisers.
They are stuffy and boring and terrible.
But then when Luna insisted on throwing a fundraiser for Grey's former partner's widow who had been recently diagnosed with cancer, he had no choice but to attend.
As he looks around the dimly lit and decorated room, it seems that no one else at the station declined to attend either, insisting on coming together to raise funds for her medical bills.
It is a beautiful sentiment and one he is glad to take part in but he still hates these things.
He hates the food and the dancing. And he hates the conversation that is always somehow awkward and stilted.He hates the schmoozing of donors. And he hates the suit he has to wear and the music that is always terrible.
But tonight he really hates these fundraising things for a whole other reason.
Chris Sanford.
Tim tries to stay out of the couple's line of sight the whole night but somehow, no matter how hard he tries, they are always in his line of sight.
And so he watches the couple with jealousy.
He watches as she laughs at something Chris says.
He watches as they dance.
He watches as she lights up the entire room with her sunshine and personality.
Those around her stand no chance, he thinks warmly.
Neither did he.
As he nurses the glass of whiskey in his hand, he takes her presence in. She is wearing a dark blue dress and her long hair is in loose waves, all for tonight's fundraising festivities.
She is perfect, he thinks longingly.
He wishes it was him that she was dancing with.
He wishes it was him that could place a hand on the small of her back as she laughs at something Nolan says.
He wishes it was him that could whisper sweet nothings in her ear as she chats up donors.
He wishes it was him.
He isn't sure if it js the whiskey or his jealousy that causes him to blurt out his thoughts of her boyfriend as he goes in to say goodnight to her.
“He isn't good enough for you,” he tells her as he finishes his glass of whiskey and holds her slightly shocked gaze for longer than a friend ever should.
Does he regret it? No.
They've been side-stepping this elephant between them, their feelings, and everything that happened in Vegas, since Lucy returned from UC School a damn near three weeks ago.
It feels refreshing to be honest with her as well as himself.
He leaves her standing in the middle of the station, slightly startled at his statement.
She is shocked at his confession but then she is angry, enraged even.
He told her to move on, he doesn't get to be jealous now.
With this thought in her mind, she races out of the station to find him unlocking his truck door.
”That wasn't fair to say,” she yells at Tim from across the parking lot of the station.
He turns to face her, her voice carrying over the rain-soaked pavement. Tims's heart breaks when he meets her eyes, her brown orbs filled with sorrow and rage.
Still beautiful as ever, he notes as he takes her in.
He longs to hold her.
He longs to kiss her.
He longs for everything with her.
“He isn't good enough for you? You don't get to say things like that to me, Tim,” she tells him angrily, her eyes brimming with tears and rage.
“You told me to move on,” she continues as she nears him, “And you are with her. So you don't get to be jealous... Because it's not fair. It's not fair to any of us,” she finishes as the first tears fall, matching the raindrops dancing along her bare arms.
He shrugs off his suit jacket to keep her warm and dry but she backs away, defiantly angry at the kind gesture.
She's right.
It isn't fair to any of them, and he doesn't get to be jealous, and he doesn't get to try to take care of her in the rain.
But just because she is right doesn't mean it doesn't hurt to see her with him.
And it won't stop him from wanting to make sure she is safe and warm.
“You are right,” he says as they share a loaded and painful look, and it is everything they aren't saying that somehow shouts into the void of the rain-soaked parking lot.
They stand there for a moment, the rain beating down on the both of them and they aren't sure what is rain from the sky above them and what are tears.
“I should get back,” she says, “Chris is wanting to leave anyways.”
He doesn't say anything but instead hands her his suit jacket once more, this time she takes it willingly and wraps the fabric around her body as if to protect herself from both the rain and the pain of the reality of this moment.
She turns back to the station and makes it a few feet before she hears him call out her name.
“Luce?” he says as she turns back to him with a resigned and solum look.
“I'm sorry,” he says as he meets her gaze.
“For what?” she asks him as she smiles at him sadly.
“Everything,” he says with a humorless laugh, “For everything we did and for everything we didn't do,” he says before he continues with the final blow that leaves her breathless, “But the thing I'm most sorry for is for everything I want but can't have.”
They meet each other's honest gaze and once again it is in everything they don't say that honestly says everything.
“Me too,” she answers back as she smiles sadly for a brief moment before she turns back to the station and to someone who isn't Tim.
And now they are both in an exile of their own making.