Hello. This is a little Datherine fic for myself because well, I felt like it and I'm putting off homework. It's only a letter, from Katherine to David. Written when she was about 16 years old, in my mind. Reviews are always more than appreciated. I do not own David or Katherine. They belong to FOX and CP Coulter. ~Schway.

Dear my David,

If you're reading this, you've either searched my computer files, or, I left this for you. The night I die. So I'm likely dead by the time you read this. Or nearly there. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't be alive and well right now. I'm sorry that you have to go through this. I'm so very sorry.

I have news. You'd call it terrible, awful, horrendous news. I'd call it inevitable. We're all meant to die someday. Yours will come, my mom's will come, everyone we know, love, and care for will die some time. We may or may not be there to see everyone die off. But regardless, it'll happen. It just seems better when you see it where everyone dies after you. That way you don't have to see them go and feel all that pain and suffering when they leave you. But if then you have to consider something else-religion and such. If you think you're going to watch down on your loved ones from heaven, well, things change.

You have to watch them suffer instead.

I don't want to see you cry after me, David. That is certainly no heaven of mine. It's a personal hell. A Hell where I can see you, but never touch you again, never kiss you again, never dance with you again. I wonder if I'll be able to hear you. Hear your voice. If you ever speak to me, or sing to me while I'm up there, away from you. That would make things a little better. Knowing that you're still alive somehow. Not dead inside.

But what if you move on? And I hope you do, David. I want you to. I want you to be happy in life. Not dragged down by some stupid dancer who got in an accident which set off her inevitable fate-to die young. That's not what you need. It's not what you should ever have, or ever have to settle for. I want you to fall in love again. Meet someone else. Find someone strong, David. Don't let her be so damaged like I am. I've given you enough of that already. And I want you to. Please, try. Maybe not right away, maybe not in three or four years. But do try again. Go to a bar, say hello and buy a girl a drink. Get to know her. Fall in love. It's all that I wish for you, my love.

But I know it'll be hard. For both you and I. I have a little selfish voice in my head, calling out to me as I write this. It's saying that my heart will break over and over if you fall in love again. Have children with another woman. Because I know it won't be me. Because our years, our endless years together, our dreams of growing old in each other's arms will be lost. They'll be gone with the new girl. I might even leave your mind. Who knows? Not I. But don't take this as reason to not find someone perfect for you, love. I want you to. Maybe, in death, we'll reunite again. Maybe we won't. But I'll be watching over you until you die as well, David. I'll protect you. I'll protect whatever wife you marry, any children you father. Because you protected me, David.

You shot your arm out in front of me in that crash. I very nearly could've died instantly if you hadn't been there for me. So I'll be there for you. Keep you safe. Keeping your loved ones safe, whomever they may be, so that you don't have to have the same suffering as when I die again.

I got a call from the doctor's office today. Nice man, my doctor. We've actually grown close over the years. Not surprisingly, I might add. If you go there enough you really get to know people. They love you, David. Everyone at the office, everyone who looks after me in the hospital. Because they see how much I brighten up when you're around. The call said that well, to put it out there blatantly, that I am predicted-supposed-to die by the time I turn twenty. Twenty. Isn't that something? Only two decades of life to live. It may sound like a century to a young kid, but when you get there, it's all flown by. Twenty years old and I'm probably going to be gone.

I try not to remind myself of what I'll miss. I'll miss our formal wedding night. I'll miss holding your hand. I'll miss kissing you. I'll miss finding out, in that joyous moment, that I'm pregnant. I'll miss seeing that little boy or little baby girl in your arms when they're just born. I'll miss the kids growing up. I'll miss your smile. I'll miss your love. All of these irreplaceable, wonderfully perfect things that I'll miss.

But that's okay. You proposed, remember? We'll be legally married soon. Bonded until death do us part. But is that long enough for us? Death is looming above me, I try running but it might catch me once and pin me down. We'll be married. We'll tell the judge our story, she'll be emotionally compromised and sign them right away. Our parents will be so happy for us, in the hall. They'll sign the witness papers and they'll congratulate us. We'll kiss. It'll be wonderful. First kiss as a married couple. I dream of that often. And David, the night we get married, we'll lay in one another's arms. It'll be perfect. All we ever dreamed of, right? It'll happen soon. I just hope I can live to the age when we can really get married. Have a wedding. Invite our relatives, our closest friends. Wes will be the best man, and Lily will be right by my side as well.

Just imagine that wedding. Who knows if some of our other friends will be married by then? Or pregnant? Can't you imagine Casey towing along a full belly, a wonderful guy holding her hand? Maybe Kurt and Blaine will be married by then, hmm? They'll have a little girl with them, they hold her hands and swing her back and forth, they're all laughing and having perfect moments. The wedding will be perfect, David. And I can't wait for it.

So long as we both live that long. And David, you have to promise me, on everything that you have ever loved or wished on, that you will live until that day, too. And that, whether I be there or not, live on after it. Live a full life. Because I wouldn't be able to bear it if you didn't.

David, I love you. But my time is coming. And we both know it. I'm wasting time, just sitting here writing this on my bed. My mom's having me rest. She says I shouldn't be doing anything right now. I want to get up and dance. I want to perform a ballet. I want to learn how to freestyle like Shane. I want to be with you, all there and full of life. I want to do something. Travel, maybe. See the dancers on Broadway. But for now I need to rest, as much as I wish I could be anywhere else. I want to be anywhere else with you.

I love you David. I always will. So fall in love again. For me.

Love always, even after death,

Katherine Rivers-Sullivan