It started when they told me I had to make a choice. || OMG PEOPLE.

As funny as the title suggests. Also, this is totally canon. Spoilers for "They Keep Killing..."

We don't speak much. I suppose it should be strange, given that neither of us is more generally inclined to silence, but here, it's natural. This place is not a speaking place.

A trip to New Zealand.

Reiter... whatnot isn't working either. This is freaky. Weird. Hinkey. I'm saying the words, he's saying the words, but for some reason, I'm just not getting it. I need to move this into a language form I can speak.

it's hard to figure out when to end something when you haven't found what you were looking for.

Better still when he reaches out and holds your hand, or maybe you reach over and rest your hand on his thigh, which is strong and warm and--really, I think my favorite part of getting pizza is getting the pizza.

I stay with it for Fraser’s sake. I have an interior motive. Because once I know who the other woman is, I can make sure she’s good enough for him.

After about a week, he asked me again: "What colors do you see, Ray?"

I offer this not as an excuse for my behavior under the circumstances, but rather as some small explanation.

Ray Kowalski at fifty is an entirely different creature from Ray Kowalski at thirty-five -- though I have loved both of them, and all the variations in between, and can only anticipate the ones to come.

I do not see him anywhere, but I say quietly, "I could use your help."