Title: When You Needed Me Most Author: Beautiful Cynic Email: beautiful_cynic@yahoo.com Rating: PG Classification: AU, V/A, Post-911 Fic (vague references), implied DSR Summary: How could I let him take all the blame, when it was never anyone's fault but my own? Disclaimer: Not Mine: John Doggett, Dana Scully. Mine: Liz. ***** I choose to stand at the back of the church. I'm not a cop's wife anymore, I don't belong any closer. I don't know what to say to these women, the ones in the front row. I know them all, some are ...were... close friends, but I can't think of the right words. Guilt tears at me. Every single one of those ladies rushed to my side when my son was murdered. They held me while I cried, got angry along with me when I raged at the world and evil and God in heaven for taking my boy from me. Why can't I be there for them like they were for me? Because I'm not one of them anymore. When I left John, I essentially left them, too. Sure, we all attempted to keep in touch, pretended that we all still had things in common beyond the calling our husbands had answered. And it broke my heart to watch their children run and play while my Luke rotted away beneath the cold, hard ground. But, even that couldn't keep me away today, knowing full well that had John never left the NYPD, it would likely be me up there. This would have been the kind of thing he'd have responded to immediately, and I'd have expected nothing less from the man I married. I don't hear a word any of the speakers say, lost in my own little world, remembering a time of personal tragedy, when I should have embraced my closest loved one. Instead, I pushed him away. I let him blame himself for Luke's death, let him believe that I blamed him, when in reality, I never could, never did blame him. Because it was my fault. I was the one running late that morning. I was the one who kissed my boy and sent him out the door with a half-hearted apology because he had to walk that day. "But mom,it's cooolllld outside! You don't want me to catch the flu, do ya?" That gap toothed grin topped by sparkling blue eyes flashed in my mind and the tears I was trying to contain spilled over my lids. The woman next to me pats my arm with a kind, grandmotherly grin and hands me a tissue. "It's good to cry, sweetheart," she says, all the wisdom of her years in the simple words. I thank her and wipe my eyes, again retreating into my personal pity party. I know I'm a horrible person for the way I treated John after Luke died. I yelled at him for not being the one to tell me, even though I knew he had locked himself in the shooting range, emptying clip after clip into the paper target, letting his initial anger and grief out in the only way he could that wouldn't hurt anyone else. I yelled at him for always leaving so early, never being a part of our morning routine. As if it would have made a difference which one of us bid Luke farewell last that day. And I knew damn good and well, had John been home that morning, when it was time for Luke to go to school, he'd have driven him. He never would have let him walk. I'm the one who let him walk. It's my fault. Always has been. These are separate thoughts. Each occuring independently, to punish me that much more. More thoughts hit me...how I destroyed what was left of my marriage...and how I still loved John, even after all the years that have passed since the divorce. It took a familiar voice to jar me out of my thoughts. I look up and see the mayor is speaking now. I strain to hear his words. I want to take comfort in his leadership, but the demons of the past drag me down once more. God, it's been years since I've beaten myself up like this! What brought this on? Why now? But I know the answer to those questions. The women in the front row. It could be me up there. But it isn't. The cycle begins again. Blessedly, the service ends before much longer and we're released out into the dreary sunshine, filing past the widows in a grim receiving line. As the people leave the church, I fall out of line, wander the vestibule, looking at everything and nothing in particular, trying to put off the inevitable hugs and tears. Finally, after what seems like an age, the line thins and I decide to just suck up and do it, get it over with, go home and wallow. I exit the church through the ornate double doors and freeze in my tracks, as if seeing a ghost. Of course, it makes sense that he'd be here. I'm surprised I didn't think of that possibility sooner. "Lizzy?" Dammit...I've been spotted. Who is she? Oh yeah, Karen ...Something. Can't remember her last name. No matter. "Oh, Karen...I'm so sorry." I hug her, purposely not looking to my right. But I can feel the blue eyes turn towards me, watching me. I pull back from the hug, exchanging condolences and small talk with the woman. Finally, I get the courage up, and I turn to my right. "Hello, John." I smile at him when he turns to face me, the smile fading fast when I can see he's not alone. Instantly, jealousy fills me, and I can't help but wonder who she is. Thank God my brain kicked in and stopped me from actually asking that question. He nods. "Liz." That's all he says to me. All the years we were together and that's the greeting I get. After a beat, I look at the petite redhead next to him, and I notice she's holding his hand lightly. Just like I used to. "Hello," I say, reaching out a hand. I use my left hand so she has to respond with her right, and in the process, has to drop her grip on John's hand. "I'm Liz Doggett." She doesn't even flinch as she takes my hand to shake it, or as she hears my name. Instead, she smiles cordially. "Dana Scully. It's nice to meet you." "Likewise," I reply, letting go of her hand, which returns to his casually, in no great hurry. Oh, there are questions I'm dying to ask. Who are you? What are you doing with *my* hus-, I mean, my ex-husband? "It was a nice service," he says, breaking the awkward silence. I nod, too busy noticing the way his thumb is gently stroking the back of her hand. He is drawing his comfort from this stranger, not from me. I have to remind myself, she's obviously not a stranger to him, but that doesn't make this less disturbing for me. [Too bad...you let him go...hell you practically shoved him out the door with the way you treated him.] "John, we should go...it's a long drive back," I hear her say quietly. I want to ask her just where it is they've got such a long drive back to, but I don't. The rational side of my brain has finally decided to join the party, reminding me that I hold no claim over him. I wasn't there when he needed me then, and I don't get to be there for him now. That's just how it worked. My mouth suddenly works again. "You look well." He tilts his head slightly, nodding. "You, too." Then down to her. "Yeah, you're right." "Again, it was nice to meet you," the woman says politely. I'm encouraged when she drops John's hand. "You take care," he said, patting me on the shoulder. In unison, the pair turns, each towards the other, as if this is a move they've practiced often. His arm goes around her, so naturally that I know it's not something he's doing to make me jealous. He wouldn't do something like that anyway, it's not his style. I watch them walk away, until they are just small blurs down the block. A crisp breeze swirls around me as I walk to my car, and I think of the things that used to be...the things that could have been, and I know that if I'd just been there for him when he needed me most...they are the things that would have been. *end ===== ~Jen~ Lilah: "Don't go thinking about me when I'm gone..." Wesley: "I wasn't thinking about you when you were here." Angel: "Tomorrow"