A/N: I do not own Young Justice.

As a disclaimer, I love supermartian- if you don't, or if you don't want to see them together ever again, I cannot say that I recommend reading this. But if you want to see more supermartian angst and romance… consider sticking with this=) Thanks. Enjoy

I was dreaming. I knew I was dreaming- by now I could just tell. But, why would I want to wake up and leave the place where I could feel her arms wrapped around my neck; where I could hear her breathing and the strong and gentle beat of her heart; where I could watch her smile unknowingly in her sleep, or she might wake me up with a kiss and go make waffles for breakfast.

But I did wake up, to an empty ceiling and a bowl of cold cereal that I had to pour myself.

I knew where she would be- it wasn't like she would have moved. I'd avoided finding her. Left her her space. Like I should have kept doing. But things had just gotten so quiet. Things were too still.

She sat hunched over his hospital bed, staring at his vital signs. When the team had rescued him, things hadn't gone as planned. They got him back, yes; but he was comatose. Contrary to popular belief, that didn't make me happy, because it made her unhappy. I think it was the last thing she could take. So she sat, just staring, her palms still open in her lap, for the last six days.

When I stepped in, she didn't notice. Of course she didn't. She was still in that slightly incoherent state. Her skin had paled to a milkier shade of green, and her eyes were duller, misty.

I watched her from the doorway. I could still leave. I could still walk away like I hadn't had the sense to six days ago. But I didn't. Would I ever stop finding a way to find her? Could I? It wasn't working out so far.

I scraped a chair across the linoleum, careful to leave a few feet between us. I couldn't let this end like it did six days ago. It wasn't fair- to either of us; or as much as I hated to admit it, to the guy in the coma next to us. She didn't even move. She didn't even blink.

"Hey," I said.

I startled her. Her eyes widened, and at first she didn't say anything. "Hey," she said, so quiet I couldn't believe it came from her.

"How is he?"

She opened her mouth, but shook her head, slowly, wordless. Her breathing faltered. Her hands knitted together in her lap- pulling and twisting her fingers together, like the anxious wreck she was.

"He'll come around." I said.

She bit her lip, nodded.

What am I doing here? I knew- I was coming to check on her. But she wasn't a kid, not anymore. She didn't need a babysitter; and if she did it wasn't my job. Not anymore. As much as I should, I still couldn't leave her alone.

I had said it myself though: There's nothing left to say.

"You don't need to say anything,"

I glared at her. "You just read my mind. Really?"

She looked at me like I had just hit her. "No I-" she placed a trembling hand against her temple. "I didn't mean to."

I had heard it, as clearly as if he had said it out loud. But I hadn't read his mind- I hadn't been trying to, anyway. I had no right to ask him to believe me, but I hoped he would, just the same. If I could go back, fix it, stop myself… I would do anything, to change it. But I couldn't.

My chest tightened, and I didn't think I could breath.

His glare softened. "Megan- are you alright?"

"Yes I'm-" I glanced up. His blue eyes trained on me. I couldn't lie to him, even if I tried, even if I wanted to. "No." I said, tremors in my voice.

He had been right, about everything- La'Gaan, me, my powers. At first, it made me angry. Now it just ached.

The relief I felt though, when he'd put his hand on mine, and I had been foolish enough to instinctively rush into his arms, however many days ago, made me ache that much more. How much more could I say I was sorry? How much more could I feel it?

She put her hand over her mouth, and started to sob. I tensed. I had seen her cry before- several times- but I had never gotten used to it. It bothered me. It had always bothered me. It would always bother me.

I still had no idea how to deal with it. Don't touch her- it didn't help last time and it's not going to help now. I couldn't just watch her though.

Cautiously, more cautiously than I had six days ago anyway, I put my hand in hers. That was fair; a friend, a teammate might do that. She calmed down some- even if she was still crying, she wasn't sobbing, and I could hear her breathing again.

I squeezed her hand. And she squeezed back.

A/N: This note isn't all that critical- but I just thought I'd make a few comments.

1) I just realized this is very similar to its counterpart "You Left Me First"- I think it's just to get the plot rolling again.

2) Why am I writing this apart from its counterpart "You Left Me First"? Because I liked YLMF better as a one shot (it was complete, but not completely complete. If that makes sense.). And because I wanted to add in a little bit of Megan's point of view, which didn't really flow with the rest of it.

3) This will in fact be multiple chapters (I'm not sure exactly how many, but there will be more than one).

4) If you're actually still reading this (I know, it was almost as long as the actual story), thank you=) and please review.