Yes, FF is working again! About freaking time. But yeah, after the horrible Foreteen in the last few episodes, I thought it was time for something anti-Foreteen. This ended up WAY different than I meant it to be, but I think it works. Let me know what you think, you know the drill.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, duh. Fox does.

Ebony and ivory. That's what they saw them as. Black and white. And that's how they were, like night and day, a complete antithesis of their natures.

She wasn't even sure why she was seeing him. She assumed it was the fact that he was the one that had been giving her the treatment and he had came to her concerned and determined for her to try the medical trial. He was someone expendable that she could spend time with and have some companionship without the worry of disappointing him with her guaranteed early death sentence. He was intended to be somebody that she could dwell time away with without personal attachment. If it was anything more than occasional flings that she had, she would be filled with guilt over leaving somebody that loved her, because she had seen what it was like to watch someone you love slowly die, and she didn't want that for others. But he had pushed the line too far. He let personal ties come in the way and risk her life, and also his.

Remy didn't find comfort with Eric. He was arrogant and self absorbed, and he was content on making her something more that she was. Being around him only made her more empty and more aware of the void in her heart that had she had had since she was a child and old enough to understand her situation. She guessed it was because it wasn't true companionship when she was with him; he was only what was convent.

She came to this conclusion because of a conversation that she had had with her father many years ago, before her mother's death.

"Is mom happy?"

Her father looked uncertainly at his child, and then nodded.

"But how?" Remy asked. "She's dying."

Her father took a sharp intake of breath at Remy's mention of her mother's condition, but let it out slowly, regaining his composure. "She's happy because she has people that she loves near her. Me and you."

Remy looked down at the ground. She doubted that her mother loved her, and she contemplated whether or not if she loved her mother. But she knew that wouldn't be the best thing to say to her father, so instead she looked back up at him.

"Are you happy?" she asked.

Her dad began to nod his head, but hesitated, and then shook his head. "No. I'm not happy."

"Why?"

"Because Remy. The person I love more than anything is going to die very soon."

She didn't really understand what her father meant at the time. Shouldn't the person that was actually dying be more horrified at the fact that they were going to die? They were the ones facing death in the face, without any hope of escaping it.

It was absolutely terrifying to know what possible death awaited her. She knew how it would start; first the minor spasms of tremors that somebody would normally ignore because they seemed benign. But to Remy, she obsessed over every dropped glass of milk and every unsteady line that she would draw in art class. To her, these were the first symptoms of the Disease that were starting to manifest her body. When she told her father about this, he told her to stop thinking nonsense. Everybody has some tremors, he said.

After that, the rest all goes downhill. You would lose control of your body, resulting in grotesque, jerking motions. Seeing her mother like this had scared Remy. Not because she had feared for her mother though. Actually, in the later years of her mother's life, Remy didn't she her as her mom anymore, just some impersonator that had the Disease running her life.

Remy didn't want the same thing to happen to her. She knew everything there was to know about the Disease and its effects, as well as a lot of other medical information, by the age of sixteen. She had a fifty percent chance of having the Disease herself. Not wanting to take the risk, Remy wanted to take control of her life before it controlled her. If something was going to end her life, it was going to be her.

It took one week for seventeen year old Remy to gather up the courage to take the pocket knife that she had stolen from her father's desk out of its hiding spot in the back of her underwear drawer. She sat with her legs crossed on her bedroom floor staring at the flipped out gleaming silver blade of the knife.

And then, taking a deep breath and looking up at the ceiling, Remy pressed the blade into her wrist. After the initial pain and quick gasp of breath, she looked down at her arm. She hadn't even cut it deep enough to do any serious damage, the only sign that she had intentions to kill herself by slicing her open her wrist was the tiny trickle of crimson blood that was running down her arm and the smear of blood on the knife.

Filled with a mix of shame and defeat, Remy wiped all traces of her attempt to beat the Disease off of her dad's pocket knife and her arm, returned the knife to where she had had found it, and when her dad asked about the cut on her arm, she answered with the lie, "scraped it while jumping the fence." And her dad asked no further questions. Although that was a relief, a little part of Remy wished that her dad would have asked more questions, even though she doubted that he could have helped her.

People are sympathetic when they learn about Remy's condition. "Are you afraid?" and "How can you live knowing that you might die soon?" were common questions growing up. After her attempt to win the race to her death with the Disease, she thought afterward how stupid it was to try and take her own life and began to have the attitude that she has had since. Everybody dies, each in their own special way. Some of old age, some from car accidents, and some from a fatal Disease. So Remy would answer "no" to being afraid of death, and she lived relatively easy, even though some days were tougher than others. But that was to be expected.

Everybody dies, even ones that you're with. Like how her dad lost the one that he was with. This time it wasn't Remy that died, it was Foreman. He was one of those that die from car accidents. It happens.

Everybody assumed that Remy would be devastated, but in all honesty…she wasn't. When she examined her relationship with him, she wasn't really herself around him, just someone that he expected her to be.

However, she did realize one thing about Foreman's death. It made her realize that everyone will die, but some sooner than others. Healthy people die every day while her sickly body keeps on pumping blood. It's not how you die that makes the difference, it's when you die.

So, what did you think?? :) I have now also enabled anonymous reviews, so if you don't have an account you can now review my stories, because I know that I haven't had it where you can do that. Sorry guys (: