As per the usual fan-fiction story: i should remark that i do not own Camp Rock. nor will i ever, nor will i ever make a profit from this story.

~Brooke-ella1990

I wake up screaming, once I have forced myself to stop and realized that it was only a dream. I become aware of the fact that my body feels unnaturally cold, as though I had slept on a block of ice, instead sharing a warm bed with the man I love.

The man I have woken up with my scream looks at me, he has concern written everywhere on his face; "Mitchie, baby what's wrong?" he asks, sitting in up bed.

"I dreamt about it again!" I whimpered. Why couldn't I just move on and live my new life? I felt very pathetic having nightmares about it still, even two years later.

"Mitchie, it's ok, it was a very traumatic event" he looks me in the eyes, and gently laces his hand with mine.

"Jason, you're too good for me, you should just leave me and live a life with somebody who isn't dwelling in the p-past." I say trying to be matter-of-fact, but tears well up in my eyes and I'm crying before I've finished the sentence. I duck my head to avoid his serious eyes.

"Baby, no, I will never leave you." He says quietly, Jason's hand cups my chin and he tenderly lifts my face so that our eyes meet. I reach over and I hug him, holding him close. I never want to let go. Because I feel like if I let go, then he'll eventually leave and then I'll never see him again. This thought brings a new wave of tears, leaking onto the shoulder of Jason's flannel nightshirt. As his fingers trace small circles into my back. My mind goes back to the time of the accident and everything afterward.

***

Two Years Ago

The biggest thrill in my life so far was when Shane and I won that award today! It seemed so unexpected that we would win. But now I can't help but think that that it was completely obvious. We won for best duet. It was for the official recording of "This Is Me."

After Camp Rock, I had been offered a recording contract on the spot with Shane's producers, but my parents had refused, adamantly that I was only 16, I would finish high school before embarking on a professional singing career. So the day after I graduated, my parents and I took a plane to Los Angeles (it was also my eighteenth birthday). We signed a contract with Hot Tunes, and one of the clauses was that Shane and I would record "This Is Me" for my debut CD. I happily agreed.

Caitlyn and I had remained in touch and very close friends after that summer at Camp, she leased an apartment, and her former roommate had just moved in with a boyfriend so she was in need of a roomie. Eagerly, I moved from my hometown to Los Angeles.(Though I would eventually spend the majority of time at Shane's apartment.)

Shane and I picked up our relationship, seemingly right where we had left off. We went out in secret to the malls, were caught by paparazzi canoodling on the beach. We were so blissfully in love, it was the best time of my life.

Time flew by since my move to L.A. and my first single being released to some bad reviews but an overwhelmingly great fan-response. At the time I thought nothing of it, but it did seem that the only reason the song got so big was because of Shane singing on it.

At the time of the award show, Shane and I were visiting his family in New York. We were on a satellite feed to the awards. We had virtually presented an award to "Best On-screen Kiss" to a pair of actors whose names I can't remember. And then when we won "Best Duet", it was incredible, I can't even describe the anxiety that wracked my body as we waited for the presenter to open the envelope and loudly announce the winner.

Upon our win, I shrieked, and Shane smiled adoringly at me.

"Shane! Aren't you happy at all? We won!!"

"Mitchie, of course I'm happy! But I already knew, my manager told me hours ago."

"What?" I demanded, my happiness was temporarily eclipsed by resentment.

"I already knew that we won." Shane explained. "My manager told me three hours ago"

"You knew, and you let me go through how many anxiety attacks! You bastard!" I screeched, Shane just chuckled at my rapid mood swing. He didn't attempt to justify his lie of omission, he just diverted my attention. It worked.

"Mitch, we're late to meeting my parents for dinner, we've got to go." Shane said, grabbing my hand. We booked it to the rental car Shane was using while we were in New York, it was a maroon Jeep Grand Cherokee. It was Shane's favorite kind of car. I buckled my seat belt, even though the restaurant we were going to wasn't that far away from the studio where were.

Shane had always been a bit of a speeder, but it felt like he was driving more recklessly than usual, and my stomach wouldn't settle, it felt like it was twisting and jumping.

We were at a stop sign and Shane looked around anxiously, it was a four-way intersection at the top of a minor hill. As I looked around unconsciously for oncoming cars, as was my habit, it looked clear, free of cars. I noticed the banks of snow on the side of the road, they were piled high, "it's one of those typical East Coast winters, lots of snow and chilly" Shane had jokingly said earlier. Shane takes his foot off the brake and we start to cross the intersection. I look to Shane in the driver's seat, he's singing, happily, along to an Elvis song on the radio. As I look at him, a strange buzzing noise starts in my ears, and seemingly out of nowhere a speeding car, is coming toward us. Before I can even blink, the speeding car has accidentally pushed us into a patch of black ice on the pavement, the force sends us into a snow bank and we tumble down the hill. Flipping once, twice, I hear Shane shout, "Mitchie, I love you!" my lungs were constricted, I couldn't speak, the car flipped a third time, into a pole. I feel a bump and a pressure on my head and my body longs for blackness, a period of recovery and as my vision goes back, I think that I mumbled, "I love you too, Shane."

A some-what long and rambling- Author's Note:

10/29/09 - Hi, I'm back from a very long and unplanned hiatus (which entailed my senior year of high school and starting college). Thanks to everybody that has actually returned to read my stories after my long mental vacation. :) I actually started this fanfiction during November/December of last year. and I let my friend proofread some pages i had written for an update and she lost them. (grrr) so that severely disheartened me because i felt like nothing could be as good as those three sheets of hand-written lines. And also, not to make any more excuses for myself, i had a job, that decided "hey i own you" and between that and attempting to pass senior year by doing as little work as possible. (and hanging out with my groovy friends as much as possible) i got distracted by life. But, hey, now i'm back and i bet you are at least partially glad that i am finally going to post the next few chapters. (well as soon as i write them. Which should be somewhat soon.)

But anyway, for this story I was inspired by P.S. I Love You and i decided to explore the loss of a spouse as a story element. Fortunately for me, I have not suffered an earth-shattering loss of a loved one. (yet). So i am writing grief with the best of my ability & knowledge. If there is something you would like to say about my grief writing, please email me, or contact me to let me know of something more i could be portraying, or something that just seems unrealistic.

Thanks for your time (my lovely returning readers/ first time readers) and actually reading my rambling author's note. (if you did in fact read it.)

~Brooke-ella1990