Christmas

Chapter Six : Perfect Little Accident

Christmas
Perfect Little Accident
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Too often, the thing we want most, is the one thing we can't have. That's how life is whether you want to believe it or not. That's how life keeps us wanting that one thing. Longing for that one thing. Craving for that one thing. Needing that one thing back because the betrayal won't bring us the peace of mind we plead in mercy for.

Desire leaves us heartbroken. Desire wears us out. Desire can wreck our lives. Desire can be strong, deadly. The thirst for desire can't be quenched, but as tough as wanting something can be, the ones who suffer the most are those who don't know what they want.

A bell was ringing. Just one bell. Where is that sound coming from? He's still at the hospital, he's sure of it. He was talking to a detective. Yes, he is. She's right in front of him, studying him ever so closely.

So, why is that bell ringing?

The familiar - which never should have been in the first place - slow tolling of a single bell rang and he looked over his shoulder.

It was all in his head. No one's around. Just the female detective, Det. Kate Beckett as she introduced herself, the smaller of the two detectives who had enjoyed harassing him with his wife's brutal attack and of course, himself. No one else was around and his brain now is in full capacity.

Exhausted, he's a having a growing migraine.

But the haunting sounds of the procession approaching the church continued and he's growing ever past frustrated with the tune. He hates that sound. He doesn't want to remember.

Seven minutes past midnight. Christmas is finally over now. Everything else is just beginning.

He held the edges of the plastic bag with immense care, almost reverentially, and turned it around to make sure he wasn't mistaken.

How did she get this?

A flat rectangle of red woven cloth with frayed edges beamed up at him. Greeting him. Clusters of embroidered mistletoe - French knots.

How does he even know that?

Someone must have mentioned it at some point - his sisters.

The lettering, large block letters in white - readable for a young child - divided by yellow stars.

Large, blocked and unfinished.

J * A * C *

"You...recognise it?"

Anywhere.

In a heartbeat.

But it wasn't supposed to be in an evidence bag. It wasn't supposed to be held prisoner. It was supposed to be in his safe at his apartment, hidden away like a treasure. Hidden away from Erin because it was the only leverage he had in their proceeding divorce, to keep her from pursuing their end. Because she had grew too attached to it and it was the one thing she valued most in life. It comes first before anything else and what happened to her - the attack - definitely atest to that.

Jay held it gently aloft between his fingers.

"It belongs to your wife?"

He nodded, and this time no one snaps at him to speak up. He nodded again, swallowed the lump in his throat. They waited and waited and kept waiting some more. They waited long enough for the larger detective who had been questioning him mercilessly - Esposito - to join them.