Very cheesy one shot that just came to me tonight. And I figured since I'm going to be gone the rest of this week, I might post something.

Just a fair warning; mentions of self-harm, suicidal thoughts, and alcohol/drug abuse.

Basically, I've been overloading my iPod with Three Days Grace and Nickelback and there are at least two songs that inspired this story.

Never Too Late, Three Days Grace

and

Lullaby, Nickelback

I always thought Amy and Mal had this incredibly close friendship after Ken died, so I wanted to play with that a little by creating this heart-wrenching, depressing fic.

And I just feel like I should throw this out there, but if any of you are going through problems that cause suicidal thoughts, self harm, or substance abuse, I want you to know that I am always here for you if you need someone to talk to. Throw me a PM anytime!

I love you all! And I just want to thank you all for being such amazing friends and readers. As of right now, I may stop writing on fanfiction because of my lack of ideas and the increasing business of my schedule. If I do get an idea, I'll be sure to post it, but until then, thank you for sticking with me! You can still find me making videos and such, just not as much writing. ^^

(Sorry if the story doesn't flow well. I tried to edit, but I just realized I have a huge test tomorrow that I need to study for. Bear with me on this one!)

I hope you all have a fantastic week! ^^

"I'm just saying," Natara began, smiling towards me, "I've been on the field for several years now and I've never heard someone's arm break like that."

I smirked and moved ahead as the traffic light blinked green. The car revved back to life and began pulling ahead behind lines and lines of cars, all seeming to head towards one direction; the police department. "Then again, I've never thrown a guy under a moving steamroller before. But hey; he's breathing and we caught him. That's all that matters, right?"

Natara placed her hand atop of mine, my ring gently pressing into her palm. I glanced down, smiling at the similar—minus the diamond—ring and back to her. Days still went by and I couldn't believe that she was finally mine. After those other guys who never treated her right. Sure, Oscar was a great man. I liked him...As a friend. He was respectful, but forceful. And Shawn...Yeah, let's not get started on that creep-o-saurus rex. Two years; two years of jealousy, misery, pain, and bad fortune, and she was my wife.

I guess it was my fault; gazing at her, admiring her beauty. I missed the light turning back to its red hue. However, the blinding white light and the honking horn tore me back into reality and just like that; she was gone.

-C.O.D-

Rising every morning grew harder and harder as time progressed after Natara's untimely death. Some days, I didn't even bother, while other days, I'd lay there, staring at the empty space next to me. I no longer felt her embrace at night, or the soft tickle her breath against my ear. Some nights, I had cried so hard that I could no longer shed any tears. I knew one day she'd die...Just not like this. I had hoped we'd grow old together, but we hadn't even made it a year after our marriage. And what's worse; she was so excited for our first kid to be born the following year. She had only made it to the first month part, and it's my fault we'll never see our baby grow up and attend their first day of kindergarten, or their first crush. We will never experience anything together because of the stupid mistake that I performed.

I refused to pay a visit to the SFPD. I didn't want anyone consoling me, telling me that it'll be alright. Clearly, it wasn't. I had fought for so long for something that was so easily lost. I was never going to be alright. I was never going to forget what I had done to her and to her family. It killed me every single night.

I was, however, visited several times by my colleagues. Their stay was usually limited because of the guilt and grief that would arise in my mind. Every time their mouths opened, instead of their intended dialogue, my cursed mind would replace it with,

"It's your fault she's dead, Mal."

"We're already upset over Ken; why'd you have to add to that grief."

"You're not worth anything, Mal..."

"I hope you pay one day for the sorrow you brought into our family."

"You're the reason why so many awful things happen."

It all drove me into insanity. Hearing curses from Raj Mansingh or even Neha; it hurt just a little less than the dull ache left by Natara's death. I began to accept those voices shunning my existence. I gave into a little each day; more alcohol, more pain killers, more of the sharp prick of a razor grazing my skin. It silenced the pain, but never banished it. Even if someone tried their hardest to convince me that everything would be 'alright', I knew what I really wanted to do; I wanted to end it.

The day I had too much, Amy stopped by. Though she spewed some of those unintentional, made-up insults, she knew exactly what I had gone through. When I let her enter the house, my thoughts set on the time she would leave me alone so I could finally cease this awful pain, she cut straight to the chase.

"You're driving yourself crazy," she said, her voice rising a little with each word. I was taken aback by her sudden anger. "I can't stand to see you go through this, Mal!"

Her voice was harder to replace than the others, but it didn't stop my mind from telling me that she was pissed off at me because I killed Natara.

"I can't do this anymore, Amy," I responded, my voice quivering. "I just can't."

"You need to, Mal," she said, and reached for my shoulders. Her grip was tight, but her voice softened. "I don't like seeing you this broken. When we lost Ken, don't you think I went through this same Hell? Don't you think I was to the point where hurting myself seemed like the only thing to distract me from the harsh reality?"

My face flushed. How did she know about that? She answered my question by revealing her arm. Sure enough, scars traced an intricate pattern across her underarm, some more faded than others. "I see you fidgeting with your sleeves all the time, Mal. I know this pain; I know you. I used to hide them, but I don't anymore. It reminds me of the stupid decisions I've made throughout my life, but it also reminds me of the help I've received. When Ken died, you were there, Kai was there, Natara, Maria, Blaise...Everyone. We're here to protect you, Mal; all of us."

I gently took her hand into mind and looked down at the angry scars. She allowed me to do so and even rolled up my sleeve so our identical secrets were revealed. "I don't want you to go through what I did," she whispered softly and she pulled back her hand.

"What do I do for the rest of my life?" I asked her, hot tears clouding my vision. I tried blinking them back. I never cried in front of my friends and I refused to start today. She placed her palm against my cheek and I closed my eyes, the tears escaping and sliding onto her hand. "I can't find anyone else. I can't just pretend it never happened."

"I wish I knew what to tell you," Amy replied, her voice also shaking. It seemed so weird; I was usually the comforter because I was labeled as the one who never cried. Being in the presence of someone who appeared to be much stronger than me, despite her size and the crap she's been through, it felt awkward. But at the same time, I was grateful for her friendship. "It's going to rip you apart every day, but you're going to have to be stronger."

"I can't fight it anymore," I replied, shaking my head, now breaking into short sobs. Man, I felt pathetic.

"You're not fighting alone," Amy whispered. "I'm here for you. Jeremy, Blaise, Maria, Natara's whole family; we're all here for you. We're all fighting so you don't have to die trying." She pulled her hand back and I opened my eyes. She was smiling sadly, but her composure remained strong and unmoved. "It's never too late to start healing."

I used my sleeve to remove the excess tears and forced a smile. "You're not gonna let me quit, huh?"

"Absolutely not," Amy said and pulled me into a tight hug. "The world will never be what we expect. We think everything will just end in 'Happily-Ever-After's' but that's not the case for some people. Sure, many live to experience death with their partners, but for people like you and me, we were given this trial because the world expects greatness from us. Maybe we'll turn it all around one day, but as of now, we're stuck here. But it's never too late to continue living and enjoying life, despite the awful challenges that have passed or lie ahead."

I took Amy's words to heart, thankful that they hadn't been twisted into a hurtful message. It eased my troubled mind and for the first time since Natara passed, I was overcome with peace. Amy had been living by this code for the longest time and I was impressed by her continued strength. She had gone through a lot what I've been through and even found love again. If she could do this, then maybe I could.

Amy removed any harmful substances from my apartment and she decided to stay the night, just to make sure I was faring well. She exchanged stories of her victory over her personal pain and how being with the Brimstone team had opened her eyes and convinced her that life is too short to be running from her problems.

And very gradually, my health and sanity started coming back. It took another month or so before I was able to return to the precinct on my own free will. I smiled as jokes were exchanged, but often left early because I'd see pictures of Natara everywhere in my office and around the building. I'd hear whispers and sometimes, my progress would drop and I'd have to go outside and think.

Around month 3, I approached Natara's parents for the first time since Natara's funeral. I anticipated screams of fury and for Raj to disown me and sue me for everything I had, but instead, I received hugs and many words of thanks and gratitude. I apologized for the thousandth time and knew that that apology wouldn't be repeated any further.

Though the guilt still bit at me from time to time, I never gave into its temptations. Sure, there were times when that alcohol would've been heaven on earth, or the pain killers would have erased her memory long enough for me to feel just a little better, but I tried to remember how Amy would react if she figured out that I was feeding my pain again.

And though I may never fully heal or find love again, I am sure of one thing; I have never been so grateful for that Data Analyst who saved my life.