Disclaimer: I do not own Cammie or her dead dad, or Joe.

Holding Onto Your Memory

And the clouds above move closer
Looking so dissatisfied
But the heartless wind kept blowing, blowing
I used to be my own protection, but not now
Cause my path had lost direction, somehow
A black wind took you away, from sight
And held the darkness over day, that night

-Linkin Park

Valentine's Day

The cold granite of the gravestone was cold to the touch. The frigid temperature had seeped into the dead stone and created an eerie, haunting feeling that radiated around the cemetery. It would not have been nearly as unsettling if it were a warm summer, the heat almost bringing the spirit of the people in the churchyard back to life. However, the winter ate at their souls and gave whoever visited a cold, lost feeling.

I traced the letters of my father's name with my index fingers, only wondering when the rip in my heart would open and the tears would fall. The cold was a nice excuse for crying but it didn't matter much. There was no one around to see me cry, and there wouldn't be many people who cared if they did. Wintertime was the only season out of the year I felt comfortable visiting my father's grave. It was the time he had always loved, despite the cold. I could still remember all the times he had forced me onto the sleigh with him and laughed as I screamed while we sled down a steep icy hill. He found joy in the cold, dark months, when others couldn't see it. He was always doing that, pointing out beauty in places I would never had imagined.

That was why it only felt right to visit him in the coldest months. They were his favorite, and it made me feel closer to him. No one wanted to come with me; I hadn't even bothered to ask. My mother had long since moved on and did not want a reminder of the cold feeling she got when she thought of my father. Abby was happily ignoring everything that ever went wrong. My friends would only come out of guilt. And I wouldn't force them out here, it wasn't like they would understand. Zach was not only away, but even if he were here she knew he didn't understand. He never had a father to lose. The only person left was Joe Solomon, but I didn't feel comfortable having him here. I'd rather be isolated and alone, I could talk to my father unrestrictedly.

I placed the crisp lilac flowers in front of the grave stone, taking a seat on the lifeless grass.

"Hey dad," I said speaking softly, wondering when my voice would break and tears would flood. It was inevitable that it would happen; it was just a question of when. "I guess I just came to say hello again, wondering how you're doing up there," I said glancing up at the grey sky.

"I don't know how you did it," I continued, knowing there would be no response. "See the beauty in stuff like this," I picked up an ugly brown leaf from the grass. I crushed it in my hand, the sound of it crackling seeming too loud in the silent graveyard. "It's ugly," I let the pieces of the leaf fall back onto the grass.

"But you always could," I felt tears poking at the back of my eyes. "I wish you were here," I whispered, knowing my words were useless. He couldn't hear me. He wasn't coming back. There was no reason for me to pain myself like this.

The pain ripped at me slowly, tearing my heart into pieces excruciatingly slow. The first of many tears to come rolled down my cold pink cheeks. I didn't have the energy or patience to wipe them away. The pain was like a slow motion bullet from a perfectly aimed gun. It was something I could not ignore, it just caused more tears, and no more words escape me. I began to sob, uncontrollably, like I knew I would. The pain was worse than anything I'd ever felt before. Worse than any torture I could ever endure. It was not only mental pain, it was so much more. It was always there, but only when I acknowledged it, did it really start to hurt.

I don't know how long I sat there until someone else arrived. It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours. It didn't matter; the pain was the same.

"Cammie," a voice whispered behind me, sounding like it would get lost in the wind. At first I thought it was my father's ghost, coming to console me. But I wasn't crazy, nor did I believe in ghosts. I turned my head backwards and saw Joe Solomon, my father's best friend and my cov ops teacher, standing wrapped in a thick winter coat with a sad expression on his face. I had never seen him look so dejected and lost. He had always seemed indestructible to me, but I should have known better to know that he wasn't. Everyone had a soft spot, everyone had a weakness.

I'm sure my smile was sad. It felt like a grimace more than anything.

"Hi Joe," I said quietly, feeling that calling him Mr. Solomon in this setting would just be wrong.

He gave me a smile of his own, looking as though he wanted to make me feel better. I stood up as he came closer. Without another word he wrapped an arm around me, allowing me to ruin his expensive coat with salty tears. It felt like something my father would do and I had a feeling Joe was hurting as much as I was and was trying to hold onto something of his late best friend. That would be me; I guess I was a good placeholder for my father, considering half of my DNA was him. But Joe was the same for me. He was a part of my father's life that I hadn't known existed until recently. He was someone I could hear memories of my father from. We shared the same burden and it felt nice to be able to give one another some comfort.

Joe held me for a while, not saying anything but making it clear that I could take as much time as I needed, and that he wasn't going anywhere. When I finally managed to stop the tears and sow the rip in my heart back together I pulled away from him. I looked at him and realized tears of his own had escaped his eyes even though he hadn't made so much as a sound. I supposed it was the spy in him, something he couldn't let go of.

His hand drifted down to catch mine and gave it a reassuring squeeze. If it were any other place or any other time I would have thought it was strange. But standing here, in front of my father's grave, with my father's best friend it felt completely natural and right. We were finding comfort in one another as friends, and as companions. The more I thought about it I was glad my friends or Zach hadn't come. The couldn't understand the loss, they could say they were sorry and feel bad but they didn't know how it felt. And judging by the tears on Joe's face he knew exactly how I felt. It a strange way it was comforting, knowing that there was someone else feeling the same pain, the same loss. Somehow, it made it easier to cope with.

I returned the pressure on Joe's hand, and offered him a small smile, not feeling quite so alone anymore. The pain not feeling as heavy anymore.

"Thank you."

AN: So I was feeling kind of sad after we lost the Falcons game, and this somehow came out of it. It like it because its different from anything I've ever written because it is Cammie connecting with someone other than Zach. I think he and Joe have a lot in common so I hope all of it made sense. They were both feeling a bit lost and helped each other. There's no romance, and it's just two people grieving for something they shared.
I hope you like it ;)