I wrote this a long time ago for my own original characters in a story and thought I could transfer it to this, with some changes of course.

Disclaimer: Don't own the show or characters, just the situation.

You could listen to I will remember you by Sarah McLachlan as you read.

It's late and I'm tired.

I know it, yet I cannot find sleep and it refuses to search for me.

I gaze across the bed at your pillow and I can still see the small indent in which your face used to lay. In the back of my head the memory of you gazing across the bed at me comes into view.

I can still remember the way your eyes used to glitter in the early morning light and the way you'd always open one eye before the other just out of habit. I'd tease you often, asking if you'd gone miraculously blind overnight. You would just laugh sleepily.

Often I would wake first and despite the fact you would often not be beside me, I would feel you there; your warmth, your breath on my neck. I feel nothing now.

Your eyes are hazier and I push the memory away painfully.

I would always shower in the morning where as you would refuse to, you said your hair was too unruly to dry before you had to go off to work. You'd still find an excuse to shower at night on weekends. One evening after a meal you proposed we shower together. I did not decline the offer but when I tried to return the question the next morning, you just flashed one of your smiles of apology.

I grew to hate that smile as time went on. It meant you were going off on an excursion with work. I sometimes wondered if you thought of me when you went away with work, meeting all those people. I wondered if as you lay in bed at night you would look over and run your hand over the space where I would be.

Or was that just me?

I have been gazing at the ceiling for some time now and I can feel that weight in my stomach. Your face swims above me and the smile that etches itself on your lips is for once not one of apology, but one of complete admiration. It was those smiles that made me feel special and wanted. I sigh and roll onto my side and you are gone once more.

This time I know it's not a business trip...you're gone.

I scoot across the bed and grab onto your pillow. I bury my face into it and your scent fills my nose. You always smelt sweet, a scent of honey but at the same time I could smell something else, perhaps fruit. I could never put my finger on it but it sent me dizzy.

So did your kisses.

You always knew exactly where to put your lips and I never once complained. I liked to think I could give the ecstasy you gave me back. Deep down I knew I could not. You were always the dominant one, ever since we'd been teenagers.

I could still remember our first kiss, up there in your room. You should have been so angry with me for all that I'd done but you weren't and all I could do to repay you was run.

When you came to see me I know I should have told you straight how I felt but I was still far too confused to deal with myself, let alone you so I snapped and had a go. Every word you ever said to me meant something but there was always three words that meant more than anything else in the world.

Those three words had always been obvious and you would whisper them in my ear as I dozed off to sleep.

They'd be the texts I'd read just before I clambered into bed alone.

They'd be the final words of our phone calls.

Despite the distance between us sometimes I always felt you were close when your voice was coming through the phone next to my ear. We spoke of idle nothings, you would tell me about the people you met and in return I would roll off details of my course at University; about how Abigail had managed to staple her trousers to her term paper or how Duncan had for the third time that month woken up next to a girl he couldn't place a name to.

I realise now these were pointless details. Wasted words. Time I could of spent telling you I loved you.

As I lay awake now I wonder if I told you enough.

I gaze to the window and see the blinds are not drawn. It was you that would always pull them closed. My body is numb now and I wish for your warm caress, the hands that could leave me panting, breathless...satisfied.

Your face smiles at me from the nightstand under the orange light of the desk lamp.

I have left the light on tonight.

The glare is painful against my eyes but without it I would not be gazing at the photo of us taken a year previous on our holiday in France. You are slender and tan in this photo, not pale and skinny as you had been over the past month.

You are smiling.

My lips part but I make no noise. I feel my eyes begin to burn as I lean over and take the photograph in my hands.

My fingers shake and the frame slips.

The smash resounds around the room but I do not know whether it is the glass...or my heart.

I make no move to pick up the dropped memory but instead flop over onto my back. Something presses into my side. I look down, feeling about onto the covers to find out what it may be. Confused, I sit up and push back the covers. Something gleams on my finger and I exhale shakily. A diamond blinks up at me. Even in your memory it still sparkles as you did when you were alive. I refuse to take it off.

It's almost as if I expect you to come back and watch me walk down the aisle. I feel something wet run down my cheek and I know I am crying again. It is not the first time and I know for sure it won't be the last. I lie back down and admire the jewel propped on the band of silver around my finger. You took me by surprise when you did it. Did you know that?

It had been on my birthday and the previous night you had rung me and told me in sadness you could not make it home as you had missed the last plane from Heathrow Airport. It hadn't been the first time it had happened so I had believed it, giving you a solemn, yet firm, OK.

I had taken it as I always did, pushing it deep down into the pit of my stomach. Rosie had come over that evening and she had let me cry into her shoulder.

It was times like those I was thankful one of us had siblings. I said you were blessed and you reminded me how you and Rosie had near on hated each other as kids. As kids. That was long before me.

I sometimes forgot I had lived before you.

Rosie gave me a promise of a meal the next day and of course I had accepted. It wasn't easy to process that I'd be alone on my twenty third birthday. Knowing I didn't want to be alone I had accepted Rosie's offer. Little did I know, she was in on it too.

I had dressed casually and made my way to the restaurant. I wasn't trying to impress anyone except you, and you weren't there to impress. When I had laid eyes on the restaurant it had been not quite what I expected from Rosie. It was one of Manchester's finest; bright lights and candles had glimmered through the windows.

Cautiously, I had made my way inside. That's when I had seen you, sitting alone in the corner, playing with the ends of your hair. Even then it had not clicked. Upon making my way over you had looked up at me with those gorgeous eyes of yours. You hadn't told me anything, except that you'd managed to get a flight. It wasn't until after you'd finished your dinner that you excused yourself from the table and headed off in the direction of the bathroom. Your last words had been 'I'll be back by the time you finish,' I had been baffled but had just watched you go without another word, fork halfway to my mouth.

I had blinked, shook my head then continued to eat. My confusion had grown as markings began to form on the plate beneath my salad. I wondered if they were some kind of posh drawings that the restaurant had as a trade mark. I had looked up as a waiter had come over and laid the bill in front of me. I had brought another fork full of tomato and lettuce to my mouth.

My fork had scraped on the plate as I flipped open the leather cover of the bill. All I can remember was that my heart had skipped a beat.

Tucked into the slip of leather had been a glistening ring.

Simultaneously, something had caught my attention out the corner of my eye. Managing to tear my gaze away from the gorgeous ring, I had turned to gaze down at my plate.

The words 'Marry me?' had shone up through the remaining leaves of lettuce and tomato seeds.

Heat had swelled to my eyes and nervously I had taken the ring and slipped it onto my finger.

"So what about it?" Your voice had said from across the table. In all the shock I had not heard you return.

My next movements had been subconscious yet unusually confident. From my side of the table I had leant across, grabbed the collar of your shirt and yanked you across to meet your lips with mine.

"What do you think?" I had whispered through sobs of happiness. Your face had been a picture.

My knees crunched on glass as I knelt down and began to gather the shattered shards that had once held our memories. I wondered if the window of your car had shattered like that.

Over the days that had followed your death my thoughts had grown more morbid and I had not been myself. I couldn't talk to anyone about it because I knew no one understood me like you had. I had felt alone and cold ever since I had watched them lower your coffin into that pit of decay.

I'm sorry, I didn't cry at your funeral.

I'd watched as your mother had spilt her tears of despair, felt numb as your father had done his best to comfort her despite the fact he was crying himself. Rosie had stood trembling at Jason's side and I had watched as she clung to him as she sobbed.

My hand closed around a chunk of glass and I felt the warm substance that was blood trickle over my palm. Instead of pain it brought me comfort. It told me I was alive.

Even if you were not.

I squeezed harder and set my teeth. Blood trickled down my wrist and splattered the floor. I released my grip and watched the bloody glass drop to the carpet. That could be done later, I think as I stand up. My eyes catch my reflection in the mirror.

I have changed a lot since I met you. I would be twenty six this winter and like the November sun rays outside, I feel myself growing weaker without you.

I am older now, the years with you have matured me, changed me for the better.

I catch sight of my hair. The tresses are greasy, making them almost appear a darker, dirtier blonde.

I remember the way you spoke my name with tenderness and remind myself of the way it would sound coming from you.

I have lost weight. Despite me being thin when you were alive, I know now I am unhealthy. I don't eat anymore. It hurts to.

I yank my head backwards and push my fingers into my hair. The strands feel disgusting. I feel disgusting.

The whole fucking room feels disgusting!

I scream in the emptiness and spin around, forcing the lamp from the bedside cabinet, watching with satisfaction as it shatters into a hundred pieces on the carpet.

'Sian,' I hear the voice behind me.

It is dark now. I have smashed the only source of light that was turned on. 'Baby, listen to me,' your voice is still with me, correcting my wrongs. I listen and you calm me. You always did.

I remember the time when I was drunk and you stilled my tongue with your words. You were something special Sophie Webster. The world was cruel to rid itself of you.

I hate the world now. Perhaps before this we both still believed in a God, believed there was a greater power. I know now for sure it's all bullshit.

There is no God. God would have saved you if he existed. You always believed in him didn't you? You needed to believe in him and now you, your faith and that fucking crucifix Emily gave you all those years ago are under the fucking dirt.

'That's my girl,' your voice is fading now but it's still there, trying to put the pieces of my heart back together.

My head turns towards the bathroom door that leads off the bedroom we once shared. For the first time since we moved in together...I take a shower at night.

It has gone midnight now and I lay naked in the middle of the bed we once shared. I have run the brush through my wet hair twice and for a second I feel physically better after a shower...but the weight in my chest smashes all the positive feelings away.

My eyes flutter closed and I force myself to try and sleep.

I do not know when it happened but your face is above mine, pressing playful kisses to my flushed skin. You are telling me it's okay. Despite your actions to reassure me I am shaking. It has been so long since we've seen each other.

Your trip to London had overrun, leaving me without you for two months straight. Tonight, I know I need you. Your breath is hot and I am unresponsive. It's how you've told me to do it tonight. You've told me to just lay back and let you do all the work.

You want to thank me, you say.

The kisses from your mouth fall lower on my body. My hands clench the duvets and my head tilts back into the pillow in anticipation. Many a night I had spent crying into that pillow. Your hot breath and kisses move lower and my arm falls over my forehead. I am left motionless and stunned as I feel your hands on my thighs, sliding over the flesh, teasing me, refusing to touch the place I want you to touch most.

When you finally give me what I want it is ecstasy and I feel my back arch up off the bed. My hand slides into your hair and clenches softly.

I always cursed you for being so good with that tongue and what infuriates me further is the fact you know it. The fact you can have me reduced to a trembling mess with just one skilled movement of your mouth.

When I climax my world seems to disappear and I can't keep my eyes open. Everything is gone except your touch.

Despite my strongest will, when I come once more I am not ready. I feel your hands slide lovingly over my stomach, a sweet caress. You always took such good care of me; in and out of the bedroom.

And this is how the night goes: Me, a helpless victim to your skilful desire.

When I come to I am panting, my hands in my hair. The fantasy had been too much and now I was spent. Is this what I had been left with? A memory: a shitty sexual memory. I scrunch my fists into the covers that in the moment of mental passion had become bundled around me.

I sigh and sit up. I ache, but it's not a physical thing. I gaze at my feet. Is this all I am now? An empty husk with only memories left. My hair falls past my cheeks and I think of the times when you would lean over and tuck it behind my ears.

In that split second I know what I want...what I need to do. I swing my legs over the edge of my bed and in a fluent movement, turn and drop to my knees. I lean under the bed and pull out a small black box. I rock back on my heels and set it in front of me.

Carefully, I remove the lid.

You always opened this box more than I did. It consists of memories you've put together...not me. I forget how many years we'd been together...you'd know but you're no longer here to ask. On top of the pile of memories lays the most recently looked at.

A letter...from my late lover. I pick it up. This was one of the things Sally did for me at her daughter's funeral, she said few words...just passed me the letter.

I had read it three times, the first I had been blinking back tears as I sat in the back of the car that drove me home. The second was three days after you died, I cried that time too. The reality had not set in then. It had the third. That time I had shed no tears. I picked it up now and carefully unfolded it.

I felt colder than the previous times; not just because I was naked.

I love you Sian Webster. Or you would have been if I ever get as far to ask you to marry me...or perhaps we are already married. I do not know and once you read this you will not be able to answer me. As I write this I can hear you sleeping in the next room.

It is unusual for you not to wake when I get out of bed but tonight I suppose you are sleeping pretty deep eh baby? I've been meaning to write this letter for a while now...I know you told me never to speak of death but if you do not speak of it, or bring it to light somehow...we sometimes feel a bit empty Sian.

Do you remember the first time I told you I loved you? We were such kids back then with so many worries about what people would think. Sometimes I think I pushed you a little too much but you always reassured me I didn't. After everything we've been through I think we deserve a medal or some sort of congratulations but we were so strong everything just seemed to brush over us after a while.

Everything with you seemed ten times better than everything I did in my life. You did so well for yourself and managed to get me back on track and into my line of work. You always underestimated yourself, you know that? You had so so much going for you and every day I thank God for giving me you.

I know it wasn't easy for us and it took us longer to do some things but for you I'd wait for you forever.

I know it'll be hard from now on Sian, but you have to keep going. Please, for me. You've got a lot to live for. You're smart and funny and I know any man or woman will be lucky to get you now. Perhaps not straight away...but you'll recover. Heart wounds mend with time.

I scrunched the tear stained paper in my hands, a small rip appeared at its head.

I will always love you Sian, you're my angel and I hope all those time you told me you loved me too...I hope at least one time you meant it...because one time would of been good enough for me, baby.

It was here that some of the writing had become smudged...but not by my tears. Sophie had obviously broken down while writing this and I realised then there was a fire raging in my stomach...unlike it had before.

No matter what happens I want you to remember me, Sian.

Don't let your life pass you by,
Weep not for the memories,
Remember the good times that we had?
I let them slip away from us when things got bad,
How clearly I first saw you smilin' in the sun,
Wanna feel your warmth upon me, I wanna be the one.

Sarah McLachlan-I will remember you. It was the song Sophie had had played at her funeral. It was a song she secretly loved. I would hear her humming it sometimes. I breathed in shakily.

I love you.

Don't forget that you dozy mel.

Yours forever, Soph. xx

I was shaking now as I screwed the letter up in my hands. I rose to my feet and stormed over to the wardrobe that was built into the wall. It had once held your clothes but now it only held mine. I threw the doors open.

They slammed against the walls with a smash and I knew the glass upon them had shattered.

Seven years bad luck, a voice said at the back of my head. I laughed at it.

I yanked out some clothes from the confines of the wardrobe and pulled them on forcefully. My world seemed to spin in slow motion as I shoved the ripped letter into my leather jacket pocket and turned around, snatching the photograph off the floor and putting it in there as well. I then strode for the door and barrelled down the staircase.

I want to be sober when I do this. I pick up the car keys from the coffee table and go for the door. I do not lock it behind me. I will not be coming back tonight. Upon clambering into the car I jam the key into the ignition. With trembling hands...I miss and scratch a neat line across the plastic. I try again and this time hit my goal.

'Sian, please,' a voice says, loud as day but I ignore it.

"I will remember ya, Soph" I whisper as I spin out onto the road, not bothering to look for traffic. I knew there wouldn't be any this time of night.

As I put the car into gear I glance up at the window at the top of the house. It is the room that so many nights was filled with laughter and passion but now it is dark...but not as dark as my heart.

It does not take me long to drive to the railway station. It has begun to snow and I can't help but be aggravated by the small flakes that bring happiness to so many people. I choose the parking space I always do when I come here. For some reason it is always free when I came to pick up Sophie.

This time I shall not be collecting her...I shall be joining her.

I open the door slowly and step out into the swirling snow. I feel a chill travel up my back but I merely walk on, my hands sliding into my pockets. I keep my head bowed as I walk down the steps into the station. I yank my iPod from my pocket and plug it into my ears, turning it up to full volume. Sarah McLachlan breaks my heart.

You secretly loved sad songs. I saw you cry once as you sat on the edge of your bed back when we were teens. The wind beneath my wings had been playing: my mum's anthem; a song we both came to relate to. You were always a slave to your emotions.

I sometimes like to think I was strong...but it was always you who kept me up.

I buy a one way ticket I do not intend to use and once through the ticket barriers I shred it, dropping the pieces to the floor.

It was snowing the day we arrived in New York for our five year anniversary. Do you remember?

I raise my head and stare out at the train line. No one is here except a man in the corner and I do not know whether he is unconscious or dead. If it is the latter I wish I was him. I take a step forward and gaze at the train track.

I am about eleven foot from it.

A good enough running distance.

I take in a shaky breath. I ask myself once more whether I want to do this. The only answer I can get is yes. A speaker blares overhead. "The 12:45 train to Southport shall not be stopping at this station, please step back from the edge of the platform,".

It's so ironic I almost laugh. All that fucking shit that went down in Southport and now all these years later the town's transport is about to give me a totally different place to go.

I step forward.

I'm so tired but I can't sleep.

Another step. My converses against the cold concrete make an alien sound that I do not recognise. You always told me if we had nothing left we would live for each other. You never told me if we did not live for each other that I may have something left.

Standing on the edge of something much too deep.

The speaker once again crackles into life and lets out a distorted. "The train to Southport is now approaching. Please step back from the platform,".

I take another step forward, this time more of a stride. Nine feet to the track.

I heard the gush of wind rush through the tunnel, signalling the trains rapid approach.

You died two weeks ago and ever since I have felt hollow. They told me it was a heart attack and it had forced you to steer your car off the road. It wasn't a heart attack was it, Soph?

I found your doctor's form buried underneath all your socks, shredded into pieces. I rang the hospital and inquired. When I heard the truth my blood had run cold but I never got a chance to confront you about it as you, you selfish bitch, had already taken matters into your own hand.

You'd lied about going to the hospital all those years ago to get that lump checked out. Too scared you'd follow in your mum's footsteps, I suppose. Funny thing was she recovered but you didn't even consider it could get worse, did you? You selfish fucking cow, if you'd just gone it might not have spread. My fists clench. If only you'd gone to get that lump checked out it wouldn't have spread.

It's funny how we feel so much but we cannot say a word.

I feel cold now, Soph. You've been my life, my love and my soul for years now. I see the lights of the train light up the track.

We are screaming inside, but we can't be heard.

No one will listen to me anymore,Sophie. No matter what happens, I want you to know this was for you, Soph.

'Please, Sian, think,' a voice says, and for a second I mistake it for the train warden's speaker but I know it is her.

I break into a run and the head of the train is racing with me.

I will remember you, will you remember me?

I am gaining speed now.

I suppose you are sleeping pretty deep eh baby?

Too deep. My feet leave the ground and I believe I am flying but I'm not. In reality I am falling...just in to a place where I can be with you.

Did you ever know that you're my hero...and everything I would like to be?

I hear brakes screech but it's too late.

'Cause you are the wind beneath my wings.

The horn blares. I am gone.

We sometimes feel a bit empty...Soph.

It's quite angsty I have to admit but I had the urge to do this, not sure why. Hope you enjoyed it, review if you did...or didn't.

-Amie