Work Text:
"You just couldn't love me," she'd said to him. He knew what she meant. The question is - was she right? The look on her face was pained, like she was ready to cry, but he was certain she was genuinely happy that he had found someone. Even if he didn't have that someone any longer.
She's sitting in the office, probably going through his mail, bent over the desk. He pushes the door open and enters the room. He knows she knows he's there.
He takes a seat across the desk from her. "We lived together for five years," he admits openly, shifting his cane back and forth between his hands.
Cameron pulls her glasses from her nose and drops them on the desk. "I know," she says softly.
"Right." He stares at his cane. "It was hard. It was fun. It was great until," he motions toward his leg.
Saying nothing, she watches him across the desk. He knows she's interested - she's always interested. The difference this time is that he's interested in talking.
"I did love her." He blinks at her. "I still do."
Cameron smiles sadly at him, "I've been there," she says. "I still love my husband."
She's going to cry, he knows she is. He doesn't want her to get all weepy on him. "Not exactly the same."
"No, but I understand the feeling. I know what it's like to love someone you can no longer have."
He gets up from the chair and leaves the conference room. She's right. She even made a good point. He's just not sure if it was about her or about him.