A/N - this takes place after one of Blanche's depressing dreams that she has about George. It's not the last one, where she feels comforted because she finally got to hug him, though - this is just one of the normal ones that we never see on the show.

"George," Blanched mumbled, turning over in bed and expecting to feel him beside her. "George?" She sat bolt upright, and the slow realization that it was all just a dream dawned on her.

It never got easier. Each time, it was like finding out that he had died again, and having to come to terms with that. She began to cry, big wet sloppy tears all over her pillow.

She missed George more than anything in this world. Sure, there had been .. other men, but none could ever replace George in her heart. Sometimes she thought that she found one that could maybe live up to her expectations, but he never did. There was always something about him, some idiosyncrasy, that made him unsuitable. George had been perfect. None of the men she'd slept with besides him were.

She stepped out of bed carefully, quietly, hoping to sneak to the kitchen without making a sound. Once there, she fumbled around in the darkness for a plate, before opening the refrigerator and cutting herself a nice slice of cheesecake.

Sitting in the darkened room, she was startled to hear footsteps rush in. She screamed, the other person screamed, and the lights were quickly turned on. It was Rose.

"Rose!" Blanche gasped. "My God, you scared me!"

"I'm sorry, Blanche," Rose apologized. "I heard someone in the kitchen and I thought maybe it was a robber or something. Can't sleep?"

"No, Rose, I purposely woke myself up just to come out here and scare the living daylights out of you," Blanche muttered crankily. "Of course I can't sleep!"

"Well, why not?" Rose demanded, taking the criticism in stride. She was used to it in this house. She just wanted to get to the bottom of whatever was bothering Blanche.

"Oh, it's nothing," Blanche muttered, waving her hand. The effects of the dream had started to wear off, and Blanche was already feeling more like her normal self.

"A bad dream?" Rose persisted.

"No, not a bad dream," Blanche countered with a sigh, glancing down at her cheesecake. "A good one. A very, very good one."

"Ohh," Rose said in understanding. "The one where you go out in public naked? I have that one sometimes! I guess that you would like it, but I don't very much."

"No, Rose!" Blanche snapped. Why couldn't Dorothy have found her here? "The one about .. George," she said quietly, faltering on his name.

"Oh... Blanche, I'm sorry," Rose said, not knowing what else she could say. She knew how it was. "Listen," she added quietly, reaching to take Blanche's hand. "I know how that goes. I miss Charlie more than anyone else in the whole wide world!"

Blanche smiled at her. "I know how you feel, Honey. George was my everything, and now that he's gone, why ... sometimes I just wish I were dead, too," she confessed.

"I miss my Charlie even more than Ingmar Flugerstrugen," Rose continued, still caught up in the 'more than anyone' bit. "He was the world's best teacher. Oh, in St. Olaf, he taught me more about cows than anything you would ever -"

"Oh, shut up, Rose!" Blanche cried in annoyance, but she was smiling anyway. "How do you cope with living without Charlie everyday? Do you ever dream about him?"

"Sometimes," Rose confessed, a small smile flitting across her features. "Sometimes I dream about when we were first married, and the kids were little. Oh, how I loved it," she added, looking like her mind was even farther away than it usually was. "But those dreams don't make me sad, Blanche."

"Oh, how don't they?" Blanche moaned, her heart already aching as she remembered her and George's early years together. The memories tore her up inside.

"Because I know that Charlie is waiting for me, and that someday we'll be back together," Rose said, sounding peaceful. "I mean, I miss him, of course! But he's watching out for me right now, and just biding his time until we'll see each other again."

"You think - you think George is watching out for me?" Blanche asked in an uncharacteristically timid voice. Most of the time she was a self-confident, independent woman, but she could still use a little looking after sometimes, too.

"Oh, I know it," Rose promised, holding both of Blanche's hands tightly. She leaned in to give her a big hug. "He's watching everything you do."

Blanche was comforted by these words, until she realized just what 'everything' entailed. "Everything?" Blanche demanded in horror, pulling away from Rose. "Why he'll - he'll - he'll kill me!" she cried. "I can never have sex with another man again! Never again will I allow a man to put his strong arms around me ... pull me close towards him ... our hips bumping ... our mouths finding each other in the darkness as a burst of passion erupts between us..." she trailed off and began fanning herself.

Rose laughed. "Okay, maybe he doesn't watch everything," she reassured her friend. "Besides, there's not much he can do with you. He's dead."

"I guess you're right," Blanche agreed, feeling comforted by this odd talk. "I'm going to go to bed now. I think I'll be able to sleep. Good night, Rose... and thank you for the talk," she added, squeezing her friend's hand once more.

How lucky she was to have friends like these in her life.