And if you were with me tonight, I'd sing to you just one more time. A song for a heart so big, God wouldn't let it live.

His eyes are shut, but he can hear the sounds around him, flickering away in the distance but close enough to make his heart ache. His body feels crushed. Agony. Every part of him hurts. Places he didn't know you could feel pain. Fear. Fear like he had never experienced.

He listens to the people around him. They sound familiar. He knows them. He loves them. He knows that because their voices sooth him slightly and he wishes he could do the same for them. He tries to concentrate. To put names to faces. Chlo, Mika, Josh. His memories of them flash across his mind, through the years. The heartache and pain they had shared. The love and pride he feels for them.

He tries to take control, tries to force himself to move, to open his eyes. For a moment he thinks he has. But its bright, too bright, too clean. He can't focus, can't concentrate on wherever he is, his mind not matching the place he lifelessly lays. He thinks he must be dreaming because the person he can see is not any of the people crowding his hospital bed.

She couldn't possibly be.

"Is this.. Am I.." That's his voice but he doesn't quite remember speaking.

She laughs, "Hello to you too, stranger." he thinks he would be smiling now, if he could. Maybe he is. He's not too sure.

"What's happening?" His voice again. How is he doing that?

"I think it's called, a dream." She's speaking softer now, watching him, affection and love dancing across her face.

"But I'm not asleep, Iz.. I mean I am but I'm not am I? And you're talking. You're bloody talking."

"Eh don't ask me, darlin', I always said you 'ad a vivid imagination."

Minutes of silence pass. At least he thinks it's minutes. It could be seconds. He's not sure he understands time anymore."Can I touch you?" He wish he knew how he was doing that. He's certain his lips haven't moved in days.

"Course you can't ya moron. I'm dead and this isn't real." The look in her eyes doesn't match her words and their longing for each other makes the crushing pain in his heart desperately unbearable.

"Am I dying Izzie?"

"Would you be scared if you were?"

"Not if this is where I end up." No hesitation. He doesn't even think about his answer. Although he's not sure he's really thinking at all. If this is a dream, doesn't that mean he's talking to himself?

He feels himself losing focus, he can't keep his eyes on her and now all he sees is darkness. It makes him feel sick, the noises around him slightly louder. He hears the buzzing of machines painfully loud, noisy against his tired body. He hears the panic of those around him. He hears but he can't make it better.

His eyes flicker again and open but they don't show him what he expects. He struggles to speak but she shakes her head, this time her fingers tenderly stroke his hair as he lays in the bed beside her uncomfortable chair, "Don't speak, Tom." She whispers and he thinks she sounds like an angel. Though as he thinks more, he supposes that is what she is.

So he does as he's told and he stays quiet, instead just watching, taking her in.

"Wow, I didn't think shutting you up would be easy." She speaks quietly with a small, effortless laugh. God he'd missed that laugh. He hasn't found anything that quite compared to the way that sound had made once made his heart flip.

Her fingers are tender across his skin. Down his cheeks. Along his lips. His eyes don't ever leave hers.

"I know you're scared, darlin'. God I know I was." His eyes flicker for a moment as he realises what she is saying, his mind on the ones he is leaving behind.

"Don't worry about that lot." She coos. "They're braver than we all think."

He tries to focus on her again but now she isn't beside him. She's standing slightly further away, an arm outstretched to him. He can tell he is frowning. He knows what she is asking.

He tries to concentrate his mind on her and ignore the sounds he hears from the place his body really is. From the people that love him.

Without realising his arm is moving. Its reaching out to hers. Around him, the buzzing of the machines is less busy, it's longer, less hopeful. And then the sound dies altogether as his hand takes hers.

She leads him away and the rest is just a memory.