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Author's Chapter Notes:
My first fic for this fandom. I decided it was finally time to contribute to this wonderful site. This is inspired, as I'm sure the title suggests, by the Beatles: Hello Goodbye. Chapter one deals with Casino Night, later chapters will deal with a few key season three moments until we finally reach the 'Hello, Hello' that is The Job. Unbetaed so my apologies for any errors.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


He doesn't know what he's doing.

In his head this never happens in a parking lot, when her fiancé has just driven away and he's just promised to keep an eye on her. He sometimes thinks it's supposed to happen in the break room, or when he's leaning on her desk like he always does. Sometimes he thinks it's not meant to happen at all.

The words have been there for years, formed and ready to go, dancing so close to his lips so many times. He's thought he came close to telling her before, he's even come to recognise the rush of fear, the sickening drop in his stomach, he's accepted the burning shame of cowardice that lasts for hours afterward.

Tonight is different.

Tonight it just hurts and he doesn't know if saying it will make him feel any better, but everything hurts and she's beautiful and they played poker and laughed and maybe, just maybe, the parking lot is exactly where it's supposed to happen.

"I'm in love with you." (Hello)

He doesn't know what's going to happen next. He's been waiting in the wings for years, his lines rehearsed a thousand times or more. She looks blindsided, like the spotlight's on her and she's gotten stage fright. He'd always thought he'd catalogued every expression possible. This isn't one he understands.

"I can't." (Goodbye)

She tries to say something nice about being friends and he has to beg her to stop. It's ironic really because he knows it would have been the highlight of his day if she'd only said it yesterday.

If he thought it hurt a moment ago, he doesn’t know what to call this feeling.

He walks without paying attention to where he's going. He doesn't know what he's doing. He doesn't know anything anymore.

~

His mind is racing, full of questions and thoughts and things he should have said. He feels strangely empty. The weight of truth was a suffocation he'd grown attached to and he’d always imagined he’d feel free afterwards. He feels alone.

Stamford is too far and not far enough.

There's no question that he's leaving now and he thinks he'll just sit at his desk for a moment. Maybe he'll just close his eyes and pretend it didn't happen. It'll be morning when he opens them and he'll be telepathically moving an umbrella stand while she winks at him. Everything will hurt like it used to, just a dead weight pressing on his chest. He won't feel like he's dying. He wonders when he became so melodramatic.

She's on the phone but he doesn't hear her words because she's leaning on his desk and something inside him breaks. He walks forward and something that feels a lot like courage is stirring in his chest.

He kisses her. (Hello).

In a split second everything stops and she's everywhere. Her hands are in his hair and she's kissing him back and maybe, just maybe it's going to be alright after all.

She puts her hands in his and it feels right. He sighs and decides to continue this honest streak he seems to have developed.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that."

She smiles. "Me too."

She's wanted to kiss him too. She's not drunk. Maybe she can.

For one glorious moment he sees the possibilities stretching in front of him. He sees it all, sees them living the life he's invented that they can have, holding hands and laughing every single day. He realises that's what he's fighting for, is what made him try again.

She says his name and he's never hated the sound more than he does in that moment. He blinks and now he can't see anything but that damn Sancronicity video and wedding dresses and the picture Jan showed him of Stamford.

"You're really going to marry him?"

"Yes." (Goodbye)

"Ok."

He thinks letting go of her hands might be the hardest thing he ever has to do.

He does it.

He's at home with no recollection of an elevator ride, or a car journey, nothing until he's locked the door to his bedroom. He thinks nothing, feels nothing. Changes, shuts off the light and climbs into bed.

Suddenly he's trembling and alone, crying silently because that life, that life with her, is all he's ever wanted.

He doesn't know who to be without her.

~
Chapter End Notes:
The style is a little quirky I realise, it just sort of came out that way.

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