The One That Got Away

“I thought I knew how to do this,” she rasped.

“There’s no playbook for grief, Monique. You know that.”

Yeah, she knew. The miscarriage felt different than her other losses, though. She couldn’t say it went deeper—’deeper’ felt like she was betraying her mother; her dad… like she was writing them off as less important than a child she’d never met. She didn’t know the right word for it. But this time Monique felt lost in her grief in a way that she didn’t recognize.

“I know it gets better with time,” she agreed. At least she hoped those rules applied. “I’ve lived through that. But right now I can’t picture it.”

The break in her voice made Enzo’s throat clench. “It will,” he promised. “I’m seeing it right now.” Every part of her looked defeated—from the slump of her shoulders to the restrained quiver of her lips—but all of that was still better than withdrawn and stoic. “You’re starting to feel it, Monique; that’s progress.”

It was almost like he’d burned her, with the way she stiffened under his palm and jerked away from his touch. With some distance between them Monique finally dared to meet his eyes, but she looked so betrayed that he almost wished she hadn’t. “What the hell, Enzo? I’ve been ‘feeling it’ all along.”

“No, I know. I’ve never doubted that,” he placated, stretching out a hand that stopped just short of touching Monique’s clenched fist. “But it seems like you’ve been working pretty hard to avoid thinking about how much you feel it.” Her eyes snapped closed. “Am I wrong?”

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t have to. He saw it from the moment she enlisted; that she was running away from something—the down-to-business cool exterior that Monique was so good at wearing. That demeanor had locked into place afterwards, too. She’d had a hand in every arrangement; tried to do everything for everyone… She seemed numb, like they all were, and she seemed guilty; Enzo didn’t know what else to call it. It’s not like he could blame her. She’d been just a teenager.

Enzo shuffled closer, facing Monique, and breathed a bit easier when she didn’t pull away. “Monique, I get it. It’s normal. I guess I’ve just been waiting for the moment when it really hit you.”

“Oh,” Monique managed. It was jarring to see herself and her reactions reflected back in someone else’s eyes. She’d been watching them all so closely that she hadn’t stopped to think that they were watching her, too.

Of course they were, though; it was ridiculous to pretend otherwise. Part of her had known it all along. She saw the way Derek’s brows twitched almost imperceptibly as he scrutinized her, like they always did when his mind was spinning away at a problem. She remembered the expectant way that Steve had studied her as they mingled aimlessly after the funeral, looking for something, before his eyes had softened in understanding and he’d pulled Monique into a steady hug. Monique knew she was good at managing perceptions; it was what she did every day. But these were her close friends. She wondered how long she’d have managed to hide behind shock before one of them got suspicious.

She wondered what that would have meant for her future, and the possibilities made her heart sink in her chest. “I… oh.”

“Hey, I see you reading into that,” Enzo admonished. Monique schooled her expression to erase the worst of her shock. “I’ve been worried; that’s all I’m saying. It’s a hard fall when it hits you, and I don’t like the idea of you doing this alone.”

Neither did Monique, but she’d resigned herself to it. Maybe she’d used enlisting as a major crutch to run away from her reality when things exploded with Oliver but it had seemed like a good idea at the time. She was serving her country, didn’t have to think about sh*t and got an education out of it too. What could be better? And it wasn’t like she had completely isolated herself from everyone. When Emily died, she’d began corresponding with her brother, Chris Brown who was out in the West Coast. He was some sort of musician though of course not that Chris Brown. For one thing, he was a white guy. They got on surprisingly well and she’d found herself opening up to him about her emotions in a way that she hadn’t been able to do in a long time. Perhaps it was that, that was thawing her out…making her feel again the way Enzo put it.

“What about you?” she snapped. Monique knew she was aiming at the wrong target, but she couldn’t let the conversation stay focused on her if she was going to keep it together. “Spence says you never leave the office lately. Don’t lecture me about going it alone.”

Enzo squared his jaw, but his probing stare softened. “All right, fair enough,” he agreed. “Look, I’m not criticizing. I just think we all need to find a way forward.”

She conceded the point with a sullen shrug. “So what’s yours?”

“I mean, you heard the genius,” Enzo chuckled, running a self-conscious hand across his nape. “Apparently I never leave the office. Kid probably has a spreadsheet to prove it.”

Monique’s answering laugh erased the last of the bite from her voice. “How’s that working for you?” she asked gently.

Enzo leaned back with a sigh, considering Monique and considering his answer. It was working for him, he just couldn’t tell her why—not as he watched her try to bat away stray tears and pretend they were nothing. He didn’t have a solid lead on the source of the bomb, and right now her grief didn’t need to get more complicated. The last thing Enzo wanted to do was get her hopes up and turn Monique into another person he might let down.

And anyway, ‘working’ was a matter of opinion here. It’s not like revenge was the healthiest way to cope.

“You’re right; it’s not a solution. But things seem easier when I keep busy.”

Monique raised a brow. “For a while, maybe. Until you burn out.”

He shrugged. “I’ll take what I can get.”

Monique looked away with a shaky nod. There was that guilt creeping in again, and Enzo hated the way it made her shut down. Except that wasn’t really fair. The only reason Monique could shut down now was that she’d already opened up plenty—whether she’d meant to or not—and it’s not like he’d given her much in return. He owed her that.

And for a change, Enzo realized, he could contemplate talking about Emily without his chest clenching in dread. He steeled himself with a breath.

“I want to do right by her,” he confessed. That got Monique’s attention. “However I can. That’s why working helps—I like being buried in a case where maybe I can do something good. Protect people.” People generally, sure; that would always be a way to honor Emily. He could hardly think of anything more important.

“Derek…” Her voice trailed off, but the startled look in her eyes made up for it by saying everything. Enzo mustered up a wan smile.

“It’s not the same as coming through for her when it counted,” he sighed. “But it’s something.”