Complicated

Chapter Forty Five: Stand

You feel like a candle in a hurricane
Just like a picture with a broken frame
Alone and helpless
Like you've lost your fight
But you'll be alright, you'll be alright

Rascal Flatts - Stand

Don was smoking again. Grace could smell it the moment she stepped into the apartment. She supposed it was better than drinking. She had half expected to come home and to discover him passed out on the couch or at the bar after Angell's heads up about the DA's dismissal of the Mathews case. Drinking she could cope with. Smoking meant it was something much worse, something that cut a hell of a lot deeper.

It hadn't been her case, she hadn't seen the damage first hand, but Grace had heard about it. She'd seen Don's eyes after each harrowing interview with Laura Mathews, she had never seen him look so haunted and drained before this.

When Laura had killed herself Don had shut down. He couldn't help the victim and it weighed heavily upon his conscience. Sometimes it was too much, people weren't equipped to deal with that amount of torment. Only someone with a strong support network and the willpower of steel could get through something that traumatic.

Don had done his best to take care of Laura. He had given her his cellphone number in case of an emergency, he had picked her up and dropped her off after interviews. Don had even escorted her to her first meeting with her support group, he had thought he was getting through to her but in the end her body and soul had been obliterated by that monster.

Don barely looked at her when she popped her head out of the open window to see him sitting there inhaling the nicotine from the cigarette between his fingers. His jeans hugged his hips as he stared out across the city from his seat on the cool, metal fire escape. He was wearing white socks and no shoes, there were goosebumps up and down his naked biceps and forearms from the decreasing temperature. His torso was clad only in a comfortable black T-shirt.

Grace climbed out of the window carefully before dropping down beside him. Their hips bumped each other as she slid into the small space. Despite what had happened today her presence was reassuring as the silence stretched between them. There was nothing she could say to take away the hollowness that resounded inside his body right now.

"He's gonna do it again." Don said sullenly, tapping the ash off the end of the cigarette into the empty plant pot they used as an ashtray whenever one of them needed the nicotine hit.

"You'll be there to catch him." Grace told him as a matter of fact.

They couldn't anticipate the next victim but Grace prayed for them. She hoped that somehow Maplin would fail or someone else would come forward. The evidence they had gathered from Laura Mathews was wasted and only something new would suffice. Catching criminals was only part of their job, ensuring that the bastards remained locked up was also another burden set upon their shoulders.

Don passed Grace the half smoked cigarette, still lit. Grace took it from his numb fingers before pressing it to her lips and taking a drag.

"Your cold." She stated after exhaling the chemical induced fumes. "How long have you been out here?"

Don tipped his wrist towards himself so he could see the time on the watch face. He winced before answering her question.

"A few hours apparently." Don said, running his hand through his fine black hair.

"You can't keep going over this in your head, it'll drive you crazy." She told him, placing her free hand on his kneecap and squeezed it through the denim.

"I know, I just keep seeing the scars on that girl and the smile on his face. He enjoyed what he did." Don submitted bitterly, shaking his head.

"Don, you need to let it go right now. You have to pull yourself out of that world and back into this one. I know its hard but you can't let this drag you under." Grace told him.