Lauren Oliver owns Delirium and all of its characters.

AN: Hello, all! This is my first Delirium Fic, I'm super excited! I was surprised by how little fics there are for Delirium! I thought, since it's such an AMAZING book/ series, there would be way more on here! But that's okay :D I've really enjoyed all of the beautiful writing so far and I hope I can make a good contribution to this community :D

This is your run-of-the-mill Requiem story, which will probably only be three-four chapters because if I was going to do more I'd have to actually make a plot and plan out an entire novel… Which is not my job, it's Lauren Oliver's :) But I still wanted to write something, so I'm mostly just going to focus the Alex/Lena/Julian thing and not an actual plot or really mention the whole resistance which is going to boil up in Requiem.

This story has about the same level of cussing as the books do (sometimes uses sh, stuff like that).

P.S… I refuse to call the Alex/Lena/Julian thing a 'love triangle', because that denotes an equal chance for each guy. And that is absolutely untrue…. Because only one guy could ever possibly be with Lena. (Hint: look at which name is first).

I hope you like it, and PLEASE review :D

The first time I experienced the feeling of drowning, I was four years old.

It was a sunny day at East End Beach, with Tukey's bridge glinting in the distance and the Wilds of the northern border just slightly rustling- a mishmash of beautiful greenery and imaginary shadows my cursory knowledge of The Book of Shhh had taught me to see.

The day had warmed the rocky, gravel flecked sand, and it felt nice between my toes. Mom took her time fastening two floaty things to my arms- twin points of protective pressure. As young as I was, I wasn't quite afraid of the nearness of the Wilds or the noisy sucking of the ocean as it pulled back from the beach with the tide. Instead, I eagerly balanced on Mom's hip as she bounced me in the water.

Rachel was occupied with a sand castle; a city of her own creation that promised glittering buildings full of uncureds with peaceful smiles. I remember looking back at my big sister and thinking places like that actually existed. I felt so safe in the warm water, with my mother's arms around me, that anything could have been possible.

Until her arms dropped away.

"I was so relieved when she scooped me back up. But- but disappointed, too. Like I'd lost the chance at something great, you know?" I remember saying to Alex our first day together at East End.

I felt like I was drowning that day, too. When Alex told me what he was. Invalid.

East End Beach introduced me to one of my earliest and closest friends. I drowned in the sticky air of that first party; Hana's expectant eyes and the flood of taboos around me filling my lungs. I drowned in the middle of the woods, gasped and sunk in desperation. I drowned in the tunnels of New York, the rat infested darkness pressing in on me like an ominous wave.

And now, my old friend joins me again.

I'm drowning in the stark-bright air of an Invalid homestead. I'm drowning in my past. Drowning in his eyes.

Alex. Alex. Alex.

Drowning.

"Why not?"

Just two words. When I first saw Alex, those were the only words that escaped my lips. My only answer.

The question was:

"Don't believe her."

Darkness, falling, rushing, tunnel, pressure, chaos, exploding, impossible, dream, dead.

Alex.

"Why. Not," I repeat the words again. They roll off of my tongue, heavy. Thick. I taste them dumbly, not sure what to do next.

It was the normal answer to give. It was the normal next step.

It could have been a normal conversation if I hadn't hit the concrete of the parking lot two seconds later, unconscious.

"Hey, Lena," Raven shakes me awake, a jokingly impatient look on her face.

"I…" Never mind. I can't speak.

"Lena?" Raven's voice is slightly higher. "You look a little woozy again. Don't give up three seconds after you finally come awake."

"Did I… Did I break anything?" I ask. This is simple. This doesn't involve either of them.

Raven shakes her head. "Julian was close enough to catch you… Mostly," Raven grimaces.

"Mostly catch me?" I sit up in the unfamiliar cot and lean against the wall, eyes heavy lidded.

"Right. You very nearly hit your head on the pavement."

I nod slowly, and then summon up a halfhearted "oh."

I can't tell if Raven's expression is "pitying" or "terrified".

"They're both still here," she says. She shifts her weight onto her left foot, lapsing into an empty silence. "You can talk to me, if you want," she offers, for once just as lost as I am.

Raven turns to the open door.

"Wait!" I call. "What should I do?"

Raven shakes her head and closes her eyes for a second, thinking. When her eyes open again, she utters a single word- which turns out to be the best advice she's ever given me.

"Run."

Miraculously I make it out of the warehouse without running into Julian or… Or Alex.

I hastily put on my worn out sneakers and emerge into glaring sunlight. There's no long, broken road to race down, but there is a nice, flat stretch of pavement littered with gravel and old remnants of plastic packaging.

I stretch too quickly, lazily skipping most of the exercises. And then, I'm off.

My lungs fill with searing pain at around two miles, and by this time I've run the length of the cement. In front of me, there's nothing but trees and dilapidated bushes. The sun beats heavily down on my back and intensifies the burning in my legs, my lungs, every inch of muscle in me.

The familiar rush of actual, physical pain needles every inch of my body but I keep pushing. It's easier than when I ran with Hana back in Portland, thanks to those weeks of early mornings at the first Homestead.

I break the barrier of pain faster than normal. All of the pressure dissolves away and I fill my lungs with a new breath of sweet, cool air. Now I can fly. Now is the time to think.

Alex is alive.

This is the first run where his auburn hair doesn't flash in the corner of my eye- the first run where his ghost doesn't haunt me with the memory of his smile and a flickering hand, always just out of reach.

Alex doesn't haunt me anymore, because he's alive.

I realize the inexplicable and inexcusable- I miss the fleeting presence of the apparition, and I'm running from the boy that I could actually hold again.

Something is terribly wrong. When I saw Alex, I wasn't happy. Instead of a rush of joy, I felt a rush of despair, confusion, drowning. Instead of running to touch his warm skin again, to kiss him again, I collapsed.

I'm wrong. I was so wrong. What's happening?

It was his eyes, my brain tries to rationalize. It was his tone of voice, what he said. It was new, and you didn't recognize him. That's why. That's why.

But the cold set of his jaw shouldn't have sucked all of my joy away. Even I know it's a flimsy excuse.

I pump my legs faster, trying to drown out my guilt and my failure, but I'm made to pay for my sins. With each pounding step, an image tears through my mind.

Pound. Alex winks at me, his laugh set against a background of thundering hooves.

Pound. Alex whispering in my ear as we stand outside of the labs, watching birds swoop over the bay. He says, "gray."

Pound. Alex reaches out his hand and tells me that he's safe. And we dance on a hill in the dark.

Pound. Alex bobs in the turning water of Back Cove, and painfully tells me his truth.

Pound. Alex pulling me through the hallways of hell, and crawling into a tiny shed- a savior, a miracle.

Pound. Kissing Alex is like music or dancing but better than both. Waves of light swell and break inside of me and I feel like I'm floating. I touch him- touch his bare skin, not even flinching back but instead feeling like this is all I've ever wanted. A word presses softly and warmly on my tongue, and I love to say it. Yes. Yes, yes, yes.

Pound. We lay together in 37 Brooks.

Pound. Kissing Alex is like breathing.

Pound. The rumble of a motorcycle saves me. Alex, savior again.

Pound. Months without him. Julian. Traitor. Unfaithful. You didn't look for him. If you were really in love, you wouldn't have believed them when they said he was dead.

Suddenly my legs twist underneath me, and I trip over my own momentum,

tottering closer and closer to the dry ground as I propel my legs forward.

With one desperate push, I regain my balance and jerk to a stop. The pain isn't supposed to catch up to me at the end of a run, but it does.

I walk in circles to try and soothe my cramps, but nothing works. Pain follows every small step, until I'm doubled over.

I curse myself. You should've stretched, I scream in my head. But I've been fit enough to get by with minimal warm-up for a while now.

The real cause of the pain was the memories.

"I've never seen you run," a voice appears from a fringe of trees.

I can't help it- I scream.

Thanks for reading :)