Shaking…

That is all that she had been able to do. She couldn't even move to switch off the T.V. Her eyes were glued to the screen, and she couldn't tear them away from the carnage as she sat on the couch, her body trembling. Ian sat next to her quietly, wrapping an arm around her and cradling her to his chest. It was there in his arms that she finally allowed her fears to flow fast and warm down her cheeks, falling past her tank to and against her chest.

Dead…

They were all dead and there was nothing that could be done. The damage was evident; it was over. And all she could think of was them-Ian and her- and how they should have been there. They could be dead right now; they could be apart, and the reality of that shook her into submission to her depression.

"Pip?" His voice was low and hesitant, not his usual sureness.

The confidence he had in his ability to comfort her was gone because he didn't know what happens next…How do you recover from Death claiming your own peers? Almost claiming you?

"Pip?" He asked firmer, his normal forcefulness back.

Her eyes moved to meet his slowly.

"I heard you the first time." She spoke quietly.

Ian swallowed thickly and nodded.

"What can I do?"

Erin shrugged and shook her head.

"I didn't even know the bastards, Ian, and you hated them, so what?"

Ian furrowed his eyebrows and forced her head against his chest as gently as possible, rubbing her back in small, soothing circles.

"Why do you get so pissed when you're upset?"

"You act like I can help it," she scowled. "I can't, so back off."

Ian immediately released his hold on her and nodded mutely before standing.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled sadly. "I know you need space."

He turned immediately and retreated to their bedroom, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

Erin heaved a heavy sigh and ran a hand through her hair. Her fingers shook and she clutched at the strands to try and steady herself, but it was no use. Her body was in disarray and her thoughts were in turmoil.

Ian took a seat on the edge of the bed and let his head fall into his hands. Massaging his temples, he tried desperately to clear his head.

Dead.

The word had never held meaning to him before. No one close to him had ever died; no one that he knew or saw often. It was a harsh word, really: dead or gone; deceased. It was bad enough for older people who had to kick the bucket…But this young? Kids who were ready to graduate; in their prime? They hadn't deserved this, and even Ian had to agree with that.

It wasn't normal to go through this trauma at the age of eighteen. It wasn't acceptable for Death to come and take students from their school and then expect the student body to move on and live.

But live for what? Wait for what? Another tragedy? Another freak accident, or shooting, or disease? What was the point of ever being alive in the first place with one chain of events causing another and another, until everyone you knew and loved is gone?

Ian's throat constricted tightly and sudden desperation gripped at his mind.

Erin.

He had to keep her safe at all costs.

If he ever lost her…

His bottom lip trembled and he bit down on it hard. He couldn't sit on this bed alone and give her pace' pretend she didn't exist for an hour. He needed to be by her side constantly. They were all enduring so much loss. People were wondering only on what could have happened in the future; how their marriages and lives would have been with the boyfriends and girlfriends; sisters and brothers that were killed. Ian knew that he couldn't take any of the time that he had been blessed with her for granted.

He stood shakily, ignoring the jelly feeling in his legs and moving to open the door. He saw the back of her against the couch, her beautiful auburn curls cascading against the back of the couch. He smiled slightly in response to the beauty that was in front of him and walked quietly over to her. When he was only a few inches from the couch, he rested his fingertips on her shoulder and bent down to kiss the side of her neck.

"Erin," Her name, not a pet name was spoken into her ear; his warm breath on her neck as he whispered to her. "Please let me in."

His asking this was routine- he always did- because she never wanted to open up. She always hid behind her angry scowl or contorted smile; her fake smile. The beauty of them wasn't that he was the only one she divulged everything too, because he wasn't: she didn't divulge anything to him. The beauty of them was that the fake smile she put on for the world was bought by every single person… Except him.

She turned to face him, sitting crisscross on the couch and looking up into his eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispered weakly, taking his hands into her own. "I just don't know how to start-"

"-the conversation, I know."

"Everything feels-"

"-wrong, I know. Saying 'I love you' feels wrong because so many couples can't say it anymore. Saying 'I need you' is wrong because what if we really were forced to live without? Saying 'I'm thankful for you' is just…So wrong because…what if I didn't have you? They don't have each other anymore… So why do I have a right to be happy? I know how you feel, Erin, I do."

She nodded and swallowed thickly, and Ian noticed the tears that were pooling in the corners of her eyes.

"I feel like we don't have a right to be happy at all. I feel wrong to smile."

Ian shook his head.

"I know that's how it feels, but it isn't wrong, I promise."

Erin closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of the couch as the tears flowed from her eyes.

"Just hold me." She spoke through muffled sobs.

"Every day," he promised moving to sit on the couch next to her and pull her into his arms. "Every single day."