A/N: I do not own anything here but the idea. The song is "In the Arms of an Angel" by Sarah McLaughlin.

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Grant. Why? Why, how? Just when everything was settling down, when our lives seemed to be perfect. How could you! How could you do such a thing? To leave me, to leave me like this!

Spend all your time waiting, for that second chance.
For the break that will make it okay.
There's always some reason, to feel not good enough.
And it's hard at the end of the day.

If only I was there. If only I could rewind time and keep my secret hidden for awhile longer. Maybe, maybe if I was there with you, you would still be here with me. I could have changed this, I could have prevented it! I will never be able to prove that I would have been strong enough to protect you! Why am I so weak?

I need some distraction or a beautiful release.
Memories seep through my veins.
Let me be empty, and weightless and maybe,
I'll find some peace tonight.

I know there is nothing I can do to change this. I desperately want to see you, but there are reasons I can't. Sometimes, the pain becomes too much and I want to give up. I want to end it all and be with you, but I have people holding me back, keeping me here. I am needed here, and as much as I miss you, my needs are not nearly important as the others'.

In the arms of the Angel, far away from here.
From this dark, cold hotel room,
And the endlessness that you feel.
You are pulled from the wreckage, of your silent reverie.
Your in the arms of the Angel, may you find some comfort here.

Every time I think about you, everything feels dark, everything is cold. I want to curl up and shy from it, hoping if I ignore it, it will leave me alone. I can't help the fear I feel, wondering if you leaving me was the start, and the others will soon follow. I hold them closer than ever, praying they won't follow you.

So tired of the straight line, and everywhere you turn.
There's vultures and thieves at your back.
The storm keeps on twisting; you keep building on the lies.
That you make up for all that you lack.

When they ask if I'm alright, I force a smile and lie. The worst days are behind me, but the pain will never fade. I dream of you. I can hear your laughter, your voice. It's still so clear. Every little thing makes me think of you, and that brave face I try to display breaks, little by little. It will be broken beyond repair soon.

It don't make no difference, escape one last time.
It's easier to believe.
In this sweet madness, oh this glorious sadness.
That brings me to my knees.

They ask about you all the time. They ask me to tell them about you. What did he look like? Where did you meet? Would he like me? The questions burn in my mind, they hurt my heart. They don't realize the pain their innocent questioning brings me. Grin and bear it, I remind myself each day and answer the questions as they throw them at me.

In the arms of the Angel, far away from here.
From this dark, cold hotel room,
And the endlessness that you feel.
You are pulled from the wreckage, of your silent reverie.
You're in the arms of the Angel, may you find some comfort here.
In the arms of the Angel, may you find some comfort here.

When I reach the point when the mask breaks and the emotions are unbearable, I can do nothing but take them in my arms and cry. I cry for you, I cry for them. They will never have a father; they will have the life I never wanted them to have. The only things I can do are taking my three children in my arms and softly sob, begging for their forgiveness.

"I'm sorry Grant, I really am. I wish you could see them. The girls are five now, on their way to school. Grant Jr. is turning one this year, he looks just like you. To think, if I wasn't pregnant with him, our girls might have been without parents, and our son would have never seen the world…"

"…Thank You"

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A/N: I know, I know, I could have elaborated more on a lot of things here, but frankly, I like the vagueness of this story. Come to your own conclusions why she thanked Grant. This isn't the best I can do, but I had an idea and wanted to write it. It may be edited later, but I may keep it as is. Please, do not flame this story, it was written on a whim and is not meant to be an excellent work. It is simply an idea from my mind that clawed its way out onto Microsoft Word!

Reviews are happiness!