A/N: Established relationship between Thirteen and Cameron. Established death of Thirteen from Huntington's.

A/N2: I'm warning you, this is not a happy story, so if sad stories (character death stories) aren't your thing, I suggest you skip this one. This is written from Cameron's point of view, and throughout the whole story she's talking to Thirteen. This is the first time I've ever written anything like this, so please let me know how I did.

-o0o-

They say it gets easier as time goes on. They say that eventually you learn to cope, to continue living on by yourself. They say the pain starts to lessen a little bit with each day, until it eases into a dull ache that you can push away into a tiny part of your mind so it doesn't have to hurt so badly.

But they're wrong.

I know that now. Hell, a part of me pretty much knew that fact when you were still here. I kept hoping that eventually I'd find out that they were right. That it would start to get a little easier as more and more time went on. But it never happened that way. It only hurt worse and worse as the days turned into weeks. Then the weeks turned into months. And the months turned into years. And still, the hole in my heart only ripped wider. The pain grew greater until my whole body ached for you every second of every day. It hurt so much to remember your smile, your voice, your laugh, but I couldn't let myself forget you. Not after all we've been through. Not after everything you've opened my eyes to.

I still visit you. I spend hours tracing the letters on the stone with my fingertips, the last thing in this world I ever wanted to do. I never wanted to have to sit next to your headstone to whisper in your ear again. I never wanted to have to bite my lower lip to keep it from trembling as the hot tears threatened to spill over in my eyes. A part of me always thought I could find a way to keep you here, to keep you with me just a little bit longer. God, why couldn't I save you? Why couldn't I find a way to help you when you were still here? How could I have let you slip through my fingers so quickly, when we still had our whole lives ahead of us, together?

I still remember all the little things we had together. The big things are there in my memory too, but it seems strange that I feel closest to you when I remember the small details between us that most people take for granted in their relationship.

I'll close my eyes when I hear one of our songs play on the radio, and I can almost see your eyes brighten once again as you take my hand and convince me to dance with you. I can almost hear you teasing me once again as I insist that I can't dance, and yet you still take my hand and lead me along to teach me what to do. I can almost feel your warm skin beneath my fingertips as I imagine them dancing across your shoulders again. I can almost feel your cheek against mine as I pretend that I can rest my chin on your shoulder. Almost.

I'll walk into the kitchen and search for the aroma of the pancakes you'd always make us for breakfast. I remember how you used to tease me that you used a secret recipe, and I'd insist that no one in this world would have a secret recipe for pancakes. But I guess you really did, becauseI tried to make them myself once, and they weren't even half as good as when you made them.

I remember our first date like it happened yesterday. Did you know how nervous I was that night? That I spent an hour going through my closet to find the perfect outfit to wear? I remember how beautiful you looked that night, and how I couldn't take my eyes off you. Did you know I wanted to kiss you every time you smiled, but that I never had the guts to do it until you leaned in and touched your lips to mine? I remember feeling like I was walking on air when I got home that night, and how I couldn't wait until I could see you again.

But all those things are just memories now. They're only snapshots of the past that I hold onto for dear life so I won't ever be able to forget you. You taught me so much, introduced me to things I never thought I'd have the guts to try. You were so beautiful, so fun, so strong, and I never wanted to let you go. I held onto your hand so tightly, but in the end it wasn't enough to keep you with me, was it? Fate was too insistent on intervening with the plans we had, all the things we wanted to do together. We would've traveled the world together. London. Paris. Rome. Anywhere and everywhere you wanted to go. We would've bought a house and moved in together so we could grow old with each other. I had that fantasy so many times when we were together. I hoped that I could find a way to beat the disease that would take all those dreams away from us. But I guess I wasn't strong enough for that.

I remember the beginning of the end. I can still remember the fear in your eyes when your fingers twitched without your permission. We sat down in the edge of the bed and I took your hand in mine, whispering that everything was going to be okay. I remember how we drove to the hospital in silence, how nervous I was as I paced the waiting room for hours as they ran the tests to see how quickly the nerve degeneration would worsen. The defeat in your eyes haunted me as we faced the news together, and I hated seeing the pain it brought along with it. You were so scared when they said that you'd only have four or five years at most. I know you tried to hide it, but we've always been able to read each other's minds, haven't we?

I remember the time you told me about all your regrets. It had only been a year or so after we'd received the confirmation of our worst fears. Your arms trembled on the table in front of you as you told me how you'd never gotten to say goodbye to your mother. I remember the tears that welled in your eyes when you told me of how you stormed out of the house at eighteen, and the last words you shared with your father were ones of anger and hatred. I held your hand as you told me all the things you wished you had the time to do. I told you that you would still be able to accomplish all the dreams you had, but we both knew that they were empty words. We needed to hear them to keep us going, but we both knew that it could never happen, no matter how hard we fought.

I remember the first day you couldn't walk. You hated the fact that you had to use a wheelchair, but I always told you that it was just another step in the battle, that we'd find a way to beat it and get our lives back. But still, the disease progressed and you got worse before I could find a way to stop it. I can still feel the hot tears that burned across my cheeks when you were finally bedridden in the hospital. And I held onto your hand even tighter. I just couldn't let you go. Your body trembled so badly at that point, and I remember the anguish in your eyes as you watched how your body deteriorated. I know that all you wanted was to have control over your body, over your life once again. And I would have given that to you if I had known how. God, if only I had known how.

I remember your funeral, though it's one of the few memories of us that I truly hate to recall. I didn't want to look into your casket to see you lying there, when you should have been standing right beside me. But I forced myself to peek inside because I knew it was the last time I'd ever be able to see you, even though I had already memorized your face. I already knew the exact color of your eyes, the distinct shape of your jaw line, how your hair framed your beautiful face, but that final glance at you as you laid in your casket was something I needed to see to forever save your image into my mind. I remember how I sat next to your grave for hours after the service, trying to convince myself that this was all a bad dream. But I knew this was something I would never wake up from.

And now, here I am, all these years later, and still holding onto you with all my strength. I wish I could see you one more time, to tell you how much I love you and how I always will. I remember the good times along with the bad, and despite the ache it brings to my heart, it still feels good to remember how wonderful I felt with you. And that feeling is what I'm going to hold onto the most until I can be with you once again, some day.

So, as I sit here once again next to your headstone, spending hours tracing the letters on the stone with my fingertips, there's really only one simple thing I have left to say.

I miss you.

-End-