Hey! Ok this came from me listening to a combination of songs.

When you're gone by Avril Lavigne

Soulmate by Natasha Bedingfield.

If Tomorrow Never comes by Ronan Keating.

And then after listening to those, this kinda came to me...I'm sure some of you wont like it, but I would appriciate any comments you have, whether good or bad. Also try reading it to one of those songs above, thats what I did.Thanks to daytimedrama for giving this a read for me and correcting it for me, really helped, thank you!

Anyway.

Letting Go

You sit on your made bed, untouched for almost a week now. Stroking the quilt beside you with your shaking left hand, you remember him lay next to you. You remember the nights when you would make love, slow and deliberate, or the times you would fall into bed tipsy and he would make love to you in a totally different way leaving you gasping for breath and curling the sheets between your fingers and toes. You feel the fresh tears sting your eyes as you think of the times after fighting when you would lie back to back, with a visible distance between you until he gave in and rolled over pulling you into him mumbling his apologies.

Letting your back fall onto the bed you bring your legs up so that you are laying on your side, and you turn, hoping and praying to see his sleepy morning face giving you a lazy smile. Brushing his pillow with the back of your hand you let a tear slide down your cheek and onto your pillow as you grab his and bring it into your chest as the uncontrollable pain takes over. You feel it swell from the bottom of your stomach, making you sick, and it rises through your chest causing you to gasp for breath, desperate for something to help you go on living. The pain sits in your chest for a while, tightening, squeezing your heart like it had done for days now.

You want nothing more to be free of it, to go back to just over a week ago and stop him from going to work that day, to convince him to stay in bed with you and call in sick, to rid yourself of this awful present. Through your choking tears you cough out his name in a raspy, desperate, hungry, cry "Danny!"

And you feel something move inside you, some strength hidden within and suddenly in a swift movement you pull yourself off the bed into a standing position. Turning you catch a glimpse of your appearance in the mirror, a gaunt figure, with a tear stained face, greasy hair pulled back into a lose knot on your head. Knowing you should eat and shower you turn away from the mirror, unable to look at yourself as you're just a painful reminder to yourself of what you've lost. You think back to the funeral and what Stella had said, lightly touching your elbow she had hugged you and through her own teary eyes had nodded her head and said lightly. "Try to keep busy, it will help."

Taking in a deep breath you nod your head and make your way to his wardrobe, it's time you cleared through his things, decided what to keep and what to give to charity and his family. Opening the drawer you gasp lightly and trail your hand over his clothes, his things, he once was here too. He had stood here many a time deciding what to wear, you had stood here before, putting away his clothes as he had lay on the bed laughing at how domestic you were. And then with sadness you remember lightly hitting him on the chest before you began kissing wildly.

Pulling out one of his shirts your bring it to your face with both hands, smelling it, breathing it in, trying to recapture his scent that desiring smell you love. But all you get is fabric washer. Disheartened you throw it back into the closet before an idea appears in your mind, running into your bathroom you hunt through the wash basket. With triumph you pull out another shirt that belonged to your dead fiance, inhaling deeply you begin to cry once more as the smell fills your nostrils and causes memories to flood back to you.

Valentines day, finding him with a single rose in the locker room before he took you home where 11 more waited for you along with a candle lit dinner. Walking with him in central park a cup of coffee in your hands as his wrapped around your waist pulling you in close to him. Clinging onto his back as he gave you a piggy back home from work one silly afternoon. Dancing with him in a bar one night while Mac's band filled the air with music and the rest of the team sat at a table chatting. Saying goodbye to him that fateful morning as he left you curled up in your warm sheets in the bed you shared. And then your mind flashes back to that day.

Waking up lightly you had rolled onto your side to find Danny grinning down at you, all ready for work his jacket on and his bag in hand. He sat on the bed next to you and leant down carefully, gently planting a kiss on your dry lips. You remember you wrapped your arms around his neck and smiled as you kissed him back. You had never known a love this pure and fulfilling and you didn't know it was going to end before the sun had set.

His smell had been there then, that rich manly but tangy sent that made you feel warm and safe when you smelt it. "Go back to sleep, it's only early." He had spoken softly, his voice sending you back into a peaceful sleep. He placed one light kiss on your forehead as he left and whispered "I love you."

"Mhmmm I love you too." You had mumbled before rolling back into your warm bed and returning to your sleep.

You woke four hours later and got dressed, and as you did so you noticed the nagging sadness in the back of your chest, like you had forgotten to do something, only, it made you want to cry. You had no idea what it meant, why this sadness was upon you, like you had lost something so precious to you that your heart wanted to break into a million pieces. As you wrapped yourself in warm layers to block yourself from this feeling you heard the knock on the door, and as you answered it to find two uniforms stood before you with somber faces you knew what this feeling meant.

Numbly you let them lead you away, place you in their car and take you to the lab. You didn't speak as they rode with you in the elevator, neither did they. Stepping into the lab you didn't take notice of the way people bowed their heads not to look at you, or the way you heard whispering once you had passed. You simply let yourself be led to Mac's office. You sat on the black chair in front of your boss and it took all your strength to look into his face, and as his sad pained eyes met yours you didn't need to hear what he said.

You finally saw Stella stood behind Mac, tears freely running down her face as she listened with you to what Mac said. They had already known, you knew you were the last to know, you knew that nobody wanted to tell you that your fiance had been killed on the job over the phone. You listen, stone faced as you hear how Danny had approached the suspect only to have him pull out a gun.

You blink.

Mac continues.

There was a little girl, the suspect's little girl, playing in the room, he turned the gun on her, threatening to shoot her. Danny, bewildered, had tried to talk him out of his anger and fright, tried to talk some sense into the deranged man . The little girl had some how noticed the gun and gotten scared. Danny, precious, good Danny had gently asked her to come and stand with him. Doing as he said, the little girl began to cry as her abusive father began to shout obscenities toward her, putting enormous pressure and fear upon the four year old.

You hear that as Flack tried talking to the suspect Danny turned a little to talk to the little girl and reassure her it was going to be alright and that was when it happened. The suspect so fueled with anger had screamed at Danny to get away from his child and the gun had rung out, sounding loudly in the small apartment. Flack jumped taking his chance and pinning the suspect to the floor.

Unaware of what had happened he shouted at Danny to check the little girl was alright, and that's when he finally heard her crying. As he handcuffed the suspect he turned and as his face turned white he saw his best friend lay on the floor, one hand on his now blood red chest, his eyes wide with shock. The little girl stood beside him screaming at the top of her lungs. Shoving the criminal into the wall Flack had called for a bus and then once handing the little girl and her father to the uniforms he had knelt next to his best friend and tried to talk to him.

Begging him to stay. Reminding him of what he had here. Telling him of things he should stay for. But slowly he had seen it, Danny's life drained before him and as he held him in his arms Danny took his last breath before passing on. Nodding your head you ignore Stella's tears and Mac's pained expression and thank them for you informing you so diligently. Standing, you excuse yourself and slowly begin walking out of the office down the corridor, people stare, you can feel it, but that's about it. You know he can't be dead, because he would never leave you.

You speed up as you become agitated, desperate to see his face, his smile. Practically running along the corridors, you fly through set after set of metal doors, untill you're down in the cold dark basement. Running along the corridor, you hear your shoes click against the flooring and you feel the presence of death, but you know it cant be Danny because he would never leave you. Finally you run through the last set of double doors and come face to face with Hawkes, and you stare at him, his face full off grief and pity and you want to scream. You want to explode, you want to tell the world how he wont have gone.

He will be at home waiting for you, with that lopsided grin on his face. But then, before you can open your mouth you see him, his bare chest poking out of the sheet on the cold metal slab. You see his face, his stubble, his cheek bones, his perfect mouth that had delivered you so many knee weakening kisses in your time. And you crumble. Striding to the table you see the bullet hole in his chest, right in his heart and a tear drips off your cheek onto his chest, mingling with his blood. Running a hand along his face you notice how his once sparkling blue eyes that were so full of happiness and mischief were now barren and dull, dead, just like the rest of him. Gripping the table for support you bite back your tears and nod at Hawkes and turning on your heel to leave.

That was over a week ago now, and you hadn't grieved, not properly. Only a few tears here and there, a pain in your chest begging to come out, but you held it in, unable to let go just yet. At his funeral you had listened to Amazing Grace and hoped he was at peace now. And a tear had fallen onto your hand which was entwined with Flacks and you felt his thumb wipe it away. Throwing the shirt to the side you feel the anger well inside you, damn it it wasn't right that he was gone now. He wasn't old, he wasn't a bad person the world shouldn't have taken him away from you so early. It was too cruel and you hated it.

Furious you once again saw yourself in the mirror and the anger exploded like a giant monster rearing its ugly head you lunged forward and grabbed the mirror from the table and threw it onto the floor. Running from your room and running from the memories you stumble along the hall into your living room, screaming you kick the table over sending the fruit bowl flying and the fruit rolls to the corners of the room. Turning to stare at the book case you run forward and pull down each photo of the two of you, the snapshots of your life before he had been snatched from you. Smashing each photo on the floor you want it to cure your anger, cure your pain, take them all away.

Heaving breaths you stare down at the floor and notice an envelope which has slipped out of the back of a photo. Sinking to your knees you don't even wince as the shards of glass cut into your knees. Reaching forward you grab the envelope between your finger and thumb. Lifting it gently you turn it over and see it has your name on the front, in his writing. Bewildered you turn it back over and notice that in a cloud bubble he has wrote that you aren't to read this letter unless he is dead. Shocked at how the world works out, you feel more tears well in your eyes. Brushing them away with the back of your hand you slowly tear the letter open. You shake a little as you read his words.

You read of his love for you and how his words inform you of the light and passion your relationship gave him. You pull your knees back to you and rest your chin on them, rocking on your feet. You can hear his voice, speaking the letter to you in his low husky growl. He demands that when the time is right you must move on and find more love, share yourself with someone else again and carry on living. You feel the tears shudder your body as you can't think of loving anyone ever again, can't think of feeling anything but this aching pain. Steadying yourself on the book case you wipe a tear with your thumb and let more slip down your face as his words apologising for the time of this letter fill your mind, you read of how he hoped you are reading this letter as an old dear, with a life together behind you.

But you know the truth.

You know that he was taken from your grasp, snatched away from you while in the prime of his life. You know the truth, that he shouldn't be dead right now. He should be here with you, cuddling on the couch, or making shaped pancakes with you in the kitchen, or just sat, staring at each other. You know the truth that life will never be the same without him, that your heart has been shattered into a billion tiny pieces and you doubt whether anyone can ever put them back together, and even if they do there will always be pieces missing because he is no longer here with you. And as you read his letter you know the truth, that he loved you unconditionally and always had and always would as his words float to your eyes "In this life and the next Lindsay I will forever love you and not even death can stop that."

Dropping the letter you let out an animal cry, staring at the ceiling you scream furiously and let the anger take over, along with the pain. Once again you find yourself tearing around the room, pulling things from their place and throwing them across the room, then suddenly, you stop. Staring at the open door you find Flack stood there, a key in his hand, watching you, tears in his eyes.

Almost doubled in tearful pain you run forward and using your fists you hit him on the chest, again, and again, and again. Furiously beating the strong man before you, he doesn't even stop you, he doesn't stumble, just stands and takes it as you scream at him. Demanding him to bring Danny back to you, demanding that he change what has happened, screaming for an answer, wanting to know why, wanting to change what has happened.

But you can't.

And finally your tears arrive, those overwhelming tears, and your knees crumble, but he is there, wrapping his own arms around you, holding you to his chest as you weep. You hear him tell you to let it out, to let go and just grieve and you're thankful to have this permission, finally to grieve over what you have lost. Finally someone tells you its ok to cry and break things, because this pain can't be controlled and burying your head in his neck you shudder and let it all out, you finally let go.

So what did you guys think?

Good? Bad?

Let me know. Thanks.

xxxx