Until The Longest Wait Ends
SPOILERS FOR 9-1-1 EPISODE 14 / 15
In her grief, Athena dreams. But it doesn’t feel like a dream. It feels like Bobby — one last time, standing at the edge of goodbye.
🕯 Read Part 1: The Silence That Follows
The night after the funeral, sleep came for Athena not like a gentle hand, but like a wave dragging her under.
The world had gone quiet in the days since Bobby died — too quiet. The 118 moved like ghosts themselves. Karen had brought food. Chim cried openly. Buck hadn't spoken much. Hen tried to smile, but her eyes were always swollen.
But Athena… she just wasn't.
She did the things. Answered the phone. Hugged May. Let Michael bring her coffee and tried not to see the pain mirrored in her children’s faces. But she didn’t feel like herself. Like anything. Just a wind-up shell of who she used to be.
And then — in sleep — it happened.
She opened her eyes in a dream that didn't feel like a dream.
Their house. The lights warm and golden. The smell of something cooking drifting in from the kitchen.
She walked through the hallway barefoot.
And there he was.
Bobby.
Sitting at the kitchen table like he'd never left it, sleeves rolled up, reading glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he looked up at her.
And smiled.
"Hey, babe."
The sound hit her like a bullet through glass.
She didn’t run — she couldn’t. Her knees gave out halfway across the room.
He was already there, catching her before she fell, wrapping her up in those strong, steady arms. The ones she’d memorized. The ones she’d sobbed for.
"Bobby—" Her voice cracked, pain clawing its way up her throat. "Bobby, I—God, I thought I’d never see you again—"
“I know.” He stroked her back, slow and steady. “I’m here.”
“I don’t want a dream,” she whispered. “I want you. I want time. I want all the years we were supposed to have.”
He held her tighter.
"You still have time," he murmured. "That’s why I’m here. To tell you that. You have to live it, Athena. Not just survive. Live."
“How?” she broke. “How do I do that, Bobby? When everything in me still loves you? When I don’t know how to be without you? When every second feels like I’m suffocating—”
She pulled back, tears streaming down her face, trembling as she pressed her forehead to his.
“There’s still so much left we never said,” she choked out. “Still so many dinners to make. Still so many mornings. You weren’t supposed to go first. You weren’t supposed to leave me behind.”
“I didn’t want to,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. “But if I had to choose between dying with you… or letting you live… I would make that choice again. Every time.”
She collapsed into him again, sobbing — the kind of grief that only comes when love has nowhere left to go. He didn’t hush her. He just held her. Like he always had. Like he always would have, if the world had been fair.
And then—
Over his shoulder—
A presence.
No, four.
A young man standing tall and solemn — Emmett. The badge gleamed at his hip, pride and pain in his eyes.
Next to him, a girl with gentle eyes and a warm smile — Marcy. Her hand was looped through Emmett’s like they belonged together.
Beside them, a boy who looked just like Bobby once had, right down to the guarded kindness in his expression — Robert Jr.
And in front of them all, tiny and radiant, with a laugh that echoed like windchimes — Brook. She waved.
Athena gasped.
Bobby felt her freeze, and turned.
His face softened.
“They’ve been waiting,” he said quietly. “For me.”
“But they’re not ready for you,” she whispered. “I’m not ready.”
He turned back to her, thumb brushing a tear from her cheek.
“I know, baby. And that’s okay.”
He stepped back — and it felt like the world cracked a little with each inch of distance.
But his hand remained in hers, fingers linked.
“I’m not saying goodbye,” Bobby said, voice thick with everything they’d ever shared. “I’m just saying… wait for me on the other side. When it’s your time.”
“I don’t want it to be,” she said brokenly.
He smiled, and even now, it was the safest place she'd ever known.
“I want it to take forever,” he said. “You better make me wait so long I start complaining.”
He leaned in. One last time. Pressed a kiss to her lips — soft, eternal, a promise etched in dream and soul.
Then one final kiss to her forehead.
“We’ll be waiting,” he whispered. “But live, Athena. Live like I loved you. Like I still do.”
And then—
The warmth faded.
The dream dissolved.
She woke up, crying into her pillow.
But this time, it didn’t feel like grief was all that was left.
It felt like the beginning of something else.
A reason to keep going.
A reason to live.
