# 8 - He Remembers

Warning: kinda gory, death, blood mention, swearing, angsty

He gripped the rose tightly in his hand. He could feel the thorns digging into his palms but he couldn't care less. It didn't hurt him, if anything, it felt good. It was a reminder of the pain you went through. It was punishment for letting it happen to you.

He could still remember the sounds of the guns being shot. He could remember the sound of your body hitting the floor and he could remembering the sound of you choking on your own blood, desperately trying to utter your final thoughts to him though no words could slip through the metallic barrier.

He could remember the hopelessness he felt in that moment as he despairingly pressed his trembling hands against the gunshot wounds littering your stomach and chest.

He could remember how foolish it was for not only him to go in, but for him to convince you to go in as well.

He could remember your warnings. How you told him it was a bad idea, you didn't have any backup on the way and neither of you knew what the people inside the building were capable of nor how many there were.

He could remember his ego kicking in, how he felt so invincible and as though luck would be on his side like it always was. He thought that because he was in charge nothing could go wrong.

He could remember the trust that shone in your eyes as you looked at him.

He could remember the moment of silence in which you'd just admired each other before going in, as if you already knew of the fate that had been laid out for you as a result of his shitty decisions.

He could remember the need he felt to kiss you, to tell you he loved you, only to assure himself that he could tell you once you were both out and safe which to him, which seemed an inevitability.

He could remember it all.

Every moment.

And he hated it.

He didn't want to remember anymore.

Jake gripped the rose tighter, feeling blood run down his hand which only got him thinking of the way your own blood had oozed through his fingers, staining his hands a horrible crimson.

He stared at the silver coffin in front of him, unable to take his eyes off the symbol of his failure, his failure to keep you safe. He knew you could handle yourself, God did you prove it at every chance you had, but it was his responsibility as you partner to protect you, to make choices that would keep you out of harms way, to make sure that at the end of the day you were going home, safe, alive and happy. Yet he failed you.

His eyes finally moved from the coffin to the picture of you beside it. You were decked out in your black uniform, your cap tucked under your arm as you smiled at the camera. A genuine smile that Jake used to have the honour of seeing everyday, though he never seemed to have grasped the possibility of how fleeting those moments were. The moments where you'd laugh at one of his jokes when no-one else would. When you'd touch him. Not matter how brief the touch may have been, it never failed to send butterflies soaring through Jake's stomach.

A tear dripped down his cheek, then another and within a few moments, his shoulders shook with heart wrenching sobs of regret, shame and most of all guilt. He wept over the time he'd have to spend on Earth without you, the fact that he, undeservingly, had the opportunity to live his life when thanks to him, your own was cut short.

On his left, Gina was quick to take his hand and grip it tightly in her own. He clung to her, not looking up from the floor as tears continued to slip from his eyes.

They were then called up to lay their flowers on the coffin. Jake waited patiently as the rest of the team did so, Gina slipping from his grasp before he made his way towards the silver casket himself. Each step had the guilt pressing on his body more and more until he felt as though he was drowning in it.

He couldn't help but wonder if how he felt right now would ever change. Would he be able to joke around without hearing your laugh? Would he be able to get through his day without glimpsing you from across the bullpen? He didn't think so. He struggled to get through his days now, let alone think about the rest of his life without you.

He placed the blood-covered rose on top of the coffin, keeping his hand there, thinking it only fair that he'd shed blood for you when, because of him, you lay still beneath his hand.

A/N:

ohhOHoO bOY SOrRY MAtES

x Clara