Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the song I'm using.

Author's Notes: Originally written for the flashfiction songfic challenge. The goal was to embody the feeling and meaning of a song without using the actual lyrics in the text. I've included the lyrics at the end for anyone who cares. The song I used was "Hey, That's No Way To Say Goodbye" by Leonard Cohen. As usual Tora corrected my hideous comma usage and provided brilliant advice.

The sunlight filtering through the side window is warm and bright; the pool of light landing directly on us where we lay intertwined. I was tempted to choose another part of the room for our bed, but you were quick to inform me of the luxury of waking up in the warm sun. I relented, remembering your struggle to stay warm our first few weeks out. I never want to see you cold again.

That next morning we woke up together in a real bed for the first time and I was treated to the sight of you stretching and turning into the warm glow in a manner reminiscent of a large feline. You were indeed correct; in that moment of observance I experienced a luxury the likes of which I had never previously known, made all the more cherished by the knowledge that my contentment would be fleeting. That morning feels very far away now, and the time we had left then seems like an eternity to what we have now.

In less than six hours you will make the journey neither of us has spoken of for months, but has been as present in both our minds as the changed nature of our relationship. I want nothing more than to beg you to stay, but such an act would be fruitless and only serve to bring us both more pain. I can acknowledge the necessity of your return to Chicago, however the selfish part of me wishes there existed no such need.

You assure me you will visit; you promise to someday make this your home. Unfortunately, I am unable to take much comfort in those thoughts. Not because I do not trust you, I find that you are the one person I can always trust, even - and especially - when I am unable to trust myself. No, I find I am no longer able to hope for happiness - that ability stolen from me by a woman who took so much. And while you have helped me regain so much of what was taken, I feel that asking me to have hope in this moment is much akin to asking a recuperating invalid to run a marathon.

As if you can sense the dark direction of my thoughts, you stir, blond hair almost painfully bright in the early morning sun. You raise your head and look at me, and while I know you mean for your smile to be reassuring, I cannot help but notice my sadness reflected in your eyes. The kiss you give me is deep and warm and I am tempted to lose myself in the sheer kinesthetic pleasure of it. Perhaps that is your intention, but for once I find myself unable to be sidetracked by the physical pleasure you offer.

I cannot ignore the fact that in a few hours we will be standing together by the airstrip, preparing to say our goodbyes. It is very probable that I will tell you some long story about my father and Buck Frobisher, and I will no doubt prattle on about partnership. I will say "We'll always be partners no matter the distance," when what I want to say is, "You have to come back to me, no one will ever be able to fill your gap." But I know you will understand me nonetheless.

You always have.

You draw me away from my thoughts with your lips on my throat. "Don't be sad, Benton," you scold as you bite my shoulder.

"But Ray I -"

"Don't Ben," and your word is final. As your soft lips continue to make their way down my body I bury my hands in your wheat colored hair, wondering not for the first time how I will make it through the long dark winter with no sun to warm me.