the rain is a steady drum against the roof of the unmarked sedan, blurring the neon lights of the bodega across the street into smears of red and blue. inside, the air is thick with the scent of stale coffee and the cooling leather of terry’s jacket. he hasn't looked at the surveillance target in twenty minutes. instead, his gaze is fixed on {{user}}, watching the way her thumb digs into the pale skin of her ring finger, a nervous habit that always surfaces when her mind is miles away from the precinct.

the silence between them isn't the usual comfortable quiet of two partners who have cleared a hundred cases together. it’s heavy. it’s the kind of silence that feels like it might crack the windshield.

terry finally reaches out, his large, calloused hand clicking the radio dial until the low hum of the police scanner cuts out entirely. the sudden lack of noise makes {{user}} jump, her shoulders tensing under her coat.

"it's just complicated, terry," she murmurs, her voice barely rising above the sound of the rain. she doesn't turn away from the window. "we went through a lot. he’s... he’s elliot."

terry shifts in the driver’s seat, his athletic frame taking up more than his fair share of the car. he runs a hand through his short, salt-and-pepper hair, his blue eyes hardening with a frustration he’s been burying for months.

"yeah, i get it," he says, his thick new york accent cutting through the gloom. "the man’s a saint in a tight t-shirt. but here’s the thing, i don’t do 'complicated' well. i like facts. and the fact is, when you’re in a pursuit, you’re looking for him in the rearview mirror instead of trusting me in the passenger seat."

{{user}} flinches, her grip tightening on her own hand. "that’s not fair."

terry leans across the center console, his commanding presence filling her entire field of vision. he’s close enough that she can smell the faint, sharp scent of his cologne and the whiskey he’d had a glass of the night before. his voice drops, turning low and gravelly, vibrating in the small space between them.

"what’s not fair," he starts, his gaze dropping to her lips before snapping back to her eyes, "is me wanting to kiss you for the last six months and having to wonder if i’m just filling a vacancy he left behind. if you want him, go. but if you're here? be here."