Disclaimer: You know the drill. Angela owns everything that has to do with D.E.B.S, I simply like to play in the background. Also, John Mayer owns and performs "Dreaming With a Broken Heart."
A/N: We'll start out with Amy's POV and move on to Lucy's. Simple two-parter.

Forgot About Forgetting You

Amy

She wasn't coming back. I had finally pushed her too far. She came back for me and I forced her out, friends with guns blazing. Some girlfriend I am.

Was?

The thought of our relationship being past tense hurt. Its sting dug deeper as I caught sight of the diamond studded handcuffs still dangling from the arrow embedded in my corkboard. Yes, some girlfriend I was. She trusted me; I could hear it in her hurt cry from below. Each of the five words had torn my heart, mostly because they were true. With her, I was different.

The person I was with her… I'm not ready to give up on that, not ready to give up on her, on us. I felt too callous to chuckle at that seeing as I had done everything in my power to do the exact opposite. God, it was time to turn these thoughts off.

Closing my eyes to the world, I focused on the feeling of the bed beneath me. Expectedly, the thoughts returned. The bed I had grown accustomed to in the last seven days loomed over my own, the differences stark in my imagination. My downy blue comforter had nothing on her blue, green, and orange blanketing. Her entire room exuded personality – an individuality that no doubt leaked into her bedrooms in multiple lairs across the world. My room screamed of conformity, the awards and sheer amount of blue attesting to my life as a DEB, not as Amy, potential art student.

The bed shattered the silence in the room with squeaky creaks as I shifted onto my side and drew my knees up higher. Effectively curled into a ball and taking up half the space I normally do, I felt the first stirrings of sleep. I clung to it, offering myself completely.

When you're dreaming with a broken heart
The waking up is the hardest part
You roll outta bed and down on your knees
And for a moment you can hardly breathe
Wondering was she really here?
Is she standing in my room?
No she's not, 'cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone...

A gasp tore from my throat and several breathy pants followed. I could feel my heart exploding against my chest, its frantic beat rushing blood past my ears at a deafening speed. Desperate, I tore at the blanketing beneath me with white fingertips and ran to the window in a few quick steps. Rustling leaves greeted me, not the smooth, suggestive voice I had grown used to… The warm breeze wove through my hair, not the slender, capable fingers that made my own ache just remembering their feel…

The last quick breath slowed and I could almost feel the chill of the night wrap around it. I shouldn't have hoped. She wouldn't have come back after how I sent her off earlier tonight.

When you're dreaming with a broken heart
The giving up is the hardest part
She takes you in with her crying eyes
Then all at once you have to say goodbye
Wondering could you stay, my love?
Will you wake up by my side?
No she can't, 'cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone...

Will I ever see her again? Was that really it? It can't be. One hard decision, right or wrong, shouldn't be able to change an entire lifetime.

Stumbling backwards, I collapsed brokenly on the bed. I knew it was more than one poor decision that sent me on this downward spiral. Maybe a simple phone call to Max saying I had a new angle and the upper hand in my "kidnapping" would have sufficed, or perhaps running off with Lucy instead of staying in town so long. Ah, the wonders of hindsight.

Now do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hands?
Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hands?
Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hands?
Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my, roses in my hands?

Would you get them if I did?
No you won't, 'cause you're gone, gone, gone, gone, gone...

No use looking back now. From now on, it's Amy.

"Amy Bradshaw, DEBS, Sector One." My voice croaked under the words' weight, whispered as they were. This title, it's all I am… all I can be.

There's no more Amy and Lucy; it's not the badass master criminal and the Perfect Score any longer. No more we, no more us. No more her.

When you're dreaming with a broken heart
The waking up is the hardest part