Page 77 of Color of Love

“Okay, time to take you home,” Beau said, coming around and looping an arm around her shoulders, steering her away. Blake just stood there like a moron, trying to sort out the maze of thoughts.

“We’re here for you too buddy, don’t shut us out.” Dean clapped him on the back.

“Thanks, man.” Blake said, then Dean went to help Beau get Justine into a car. Blake took himself home, more unsettled and confused than ever. He couldn’t be suffering from transference, he truly cared about her. It couldn’t be that, could it? When he walked in the door, Penny was waiting for him, she peered behind him expectantly and he sighed deeply, sadness smothering him.

“Sorry Penny, I shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up.”

He stroked her before she trotted off in disappointment. What else am I gonna fuck up tonight? He went to bed but lay awake for hours replaying the scene with Justine over and over again in his mind. He had a session with Dr. Hall the following day, he would ask him about transference then.

He didn’t get a chance. Dr. Hall wanted to go straight into understanding his triggers and his techniques for coping with his attacks.

“What techniques do you find most effective?” he asked, making notes on his pad. Justine never made notes, she gave him her full attention. What he wouldn’t give for her full attention right now. Guess you never know what you have until it’s gone.

“I’ve tried all the ones that Dr. Rodríguez-Hamilton taught me, but I find some hard to recall in the moment. Well, except for one…” Blake trailed off.

“Which one?” Dr. Hall prompted.

“It’s an association technique. I needed to find a focus point in the middle of my attack, to distract myself from what was happening,” Blake explained.

“And what did you pick?”

For some reason, Blake didn’t want to share it with him. It felt too private, they were his memories.

“A color,” Blake said, reluctantly. “Orange.”

Dr. Hall was quiet for a moment, just watching Blake pensively before he spoke again. “Why orange?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Why do you use orange to ground yourself? What does it mean to you?”

Blake thought about it for a moment, then all at once, the images rushed through him. Justine in her orange dress the first time she helped him, when he began to start trusting her. The orange underwear she wore when she gave herself to him, trusting him in return with her body, her first time. The little orange carrots on her pjs the night they rescued Penny and he saw her caring, nurturing side and her fierce independence. The heels of her orange shoes digging into his back as he made her scream during their first make up session, the orange candle flickering in her eyes over their dinner together when he learned more about her.

All stand-out moments in the relationship that had become so vital to him. His mind was never alone, it was full of her. The color represented so much, it was safety, security, comfort, trust, calmness and… His chest ached at the final realization.

“It’s love. It means love,” he choked out, emotion burning his throat. It was Justine he saw in those moments, not because of transference. Because he needed her to ground him, yes, but because she was his world. He couldn’t believe it, all this time he loved her, no wonder he was so damn miserable without her.

Shit, he needed to tell her, she was hurting right now because he’d said he didn’t love her back. How could he not love her back? She was the best damn thing that had ever happened to him, how could he be so fucking blind? The knowledge settled in him with a quiet acceptance. Of course, he didn’t recognize this feeling for so long: he had never felt anything like it before. Love. Selflessly given.

He needed to tell her. Would she even believe him now? She had accused him of missing her because of transference, which wasn’t true at all now he knew how he felt. Hell, he had a new psychologist who was helping him a great deal and he was pretty sure he wasn’t in love with him. Dr. Hall smiled at him quizzically. Scratch that, he definitely wasn’t in love with him.

How could he prove to her that he needed her, not to help him with his mental health, but because he couldn’t imagine his life without her? Couldn’t imagine his life without fake stakeouts, barbecues, and debates about eighties music with the woman who twisted him inside out.

His session with Dr. Hall finished, the minutes dragging by. It nearly killed him but instead of going to find Justine to tell her how he felt, he went back to the station. He needed a plan, he couldn’t just come out with it. She would never believe him, especially after their conversation last night. Over the following days, he caught glimpses of her, and fought the urge to rush over to her and drag her into his arms and reveal his newest secret.

He finally figured it out on Saturday while reading reports and shooting the breeze with Jim. He ran out of the station and down the main street to Iris Motors and found Dean fixing a car while Taylor was hiding his tools. When she spotted him, Taylor fixed him with a glare so deadly he was shocked he didn’t collapse on the spot, but he ignored her.

“I’m so glad you’re both here. I know how to fix it, but I need your help.”

He had his plan, now he just hoped he was strong enough to carry it out.

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