Title: Minute Twenty-Seven
Author: Sarken (sarken@gmail.com)
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This always happens -- I realize I don't own it.
Author's note: This was written for the third challenge in the firstlines1000 community. If you haven't guessed from the name of the community, the point is to write a fic of a thousand words or less that begins with a certain line.
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This always happens. Every time, without fail. She could set her watch by it because she knows that exactly twenty-seven minutes after he realizes he is in too deep, he shows up at her door.
And after ten years, she's learned why it takes him twenty-seven minutes.
First, he must have one drink, sometimes two. He needs the courage he thinks it gives him; he needs the excuse for running to her. He needs to be able to say it was the alcohol that pushed him over the edge, that took away his macho Bosco exterior and left Maurice exposed.
Then he walks to the subway station, since his emotional state might lead him to wreck his car, that beautiful blue symbol of his masculinity that he cares for more than himself. So he walks to the subway station and stands on the platform, waiting for the train. He doesn't remember what train he has to take until it stops in front of him.
Finally, seven minutes after stepping onto the train, he stands in front of her door and knocks. He never has to wait more than a second because, at minute twenty-five, she positions herself by the door on the off chance he might arrive early.
Ten years and he hasn't. She doesn't know why she bothers when it always happens this way and no other.
He enters at minute twenty-seven; he takes a moment to speak of something inane before he hits her with the supposed-to-be-earth-shattering announcement that he needs her help. He says it and doesn't know that she has learned the only time he shows up uninvited is when he needs her help.
She sits on the sofa as he seats himself on the coffee table that is only sturdy enough for him because he's so small. He seems smaller, too, because he is shaking and rambling and falling into her arms and sobbing. She always closes her eyes and hopes everyone is asleep and not listening; he would never trust anyone again if she let her family hear.
He cries his last tears and realizes he has buried his face in her chest. He notices how soft she is off duty, how different she feels without the Kevlar between her and him. And when he notices it, he pulls away, gently brushing his lips against her left breast.
She shudders and her heart rate increases; this always happens.
:end: