NOTE: I don't own Rookie Blue... If I did it would be on all year.

The first time she came to him, no one spoke.

They were rough with each other. Taking what they needed. There was no reason to speak, the passion sprung from underneath the alcohol coating their tongues. Clothes tore and then fell to the floor like tattered little rags. Their hands clawed at each other, the desperate need to be closer fueling them. They took what they needed. Soundlessly. They fell to the bed. Their mouths never broke contact. This was a moment of joy that they would cherish forever. This was simple.

They broke apart. Inches between their spread limps on his bed. Her head faced the window, away from him. She clutched the sheet to her, balled in her tense hands. He watched her for a minute. She was beautiful, even like this with her emotions so coiled up you could practically see them. His eyes drooped closed. He was just so tired.

That first time she came to him, no one spoke. He didn't notice the bruises spreading over her skin. It was simple. As soon as he had fallen asleep. She rose. Time to go.

As suddenly as she had arrived, she was gone. When he woke up in the morning, he would be angry with her. If he remembered at all. After all, no one spoke.