THIS IS A TIE-IN TO MY FIC C'EST LA VIE, AND CAN'T BE UNDERSTOOD IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THAT.

A/N: Ohemgee, you guys. Alright, so I've been pretty much ignoring my fanfictions for a while, yes indeed. -nodnod- But anyway. So I looked at my profile, and--to be perfectly honest with you--I am shocked. Shocked practic'ly speechless. SHOCKED.

Little old me--Gladewing, Lucy Alice, whatever you wanna call me--always thought that the most I'd get would be, what, a review per chapter, maybe? So when I saw these stats, I felt I had to write something else.

Addicted to Crack: 42 reviews
Heroes and Thieves: 75 reviews (!!!)
Right Here Waiting: 42 reviews

C'est La Vie: 58 reviews (!!)
A Starlit Path: 75 reviews (!!!)

The Sunset Chronicles: When They Took Over: 76 reviews (holy cheeseballs, batman!)

So, taking advantage of my permission to use The Moon of No Boundaries (copyright the lovely Hope [-Hope- Suddenly I See]) I bring you...another oneshot.

-Never Forget-

written by gladewing

Oh, great StarClan.

Breezefoot flicked his ear, trying to hide his annoyance and failing miserably. No, it was more than annoyance - it was more deeply rooted than that, going straight down to the hole in his heart. It was a weed, wrapping those roots around the edges of that hole, pinching and poking and piercing, reminding him yet again why they were there.

She just left.

He shook his head sharply, trying to rid himself of the lightheadedness that always came with remembrance. It hurt the worst during this moon, this - this Moon of No Boundaries that was supposed to help Clan rivalries heal.

Heal? He felt no healing. He felt only pain.

StarClan, how he had loved her. Only to find her curled up with Jayfeather, the ThunderClan medicine cat. Not even that betrayal had hurt as badly as when he had realized that neither of them were breathing. Neither of them were alive.

How he had howled! Oh, how he had howled. How he had screamed his pain to the sky until his throat was raw, his voice hoarse

He had stumbled through the days, barely bringing himself up from the depression to witness his kits as they were named: Featherbright and Bluestep. A brief flash of pride had overcome him before he sank back down into the crushing darkness.

They were his only meaning in life during that time. Featherbright, the same colour as himself, only lighter--blind in one of her clear blue eyes. Sometimes it was hard to look at that eye. Looking at it led to thoughts of Jayfeather, which always made him think of her. It was just as hard, if not harder, to look at Bluestep, the spitting image of her mother with the same smoky blue eyes.

"Hey." The voice was gentle, soothing. He flinched away from it. It sounded too much like Heatherwind's. "Hey," she repeated, sounding hurt this time. "Now what was that for? I was just going to ask if you were okay."

He looked up. Dewspots. She was a sight for sore eyes--if 'sore eyes' meant visions of Heatherwind, flashing to and fro before his face.

Dewspots was a pretty grey she-cat, dappled and spotted. She smiled at Breezefoot sympathetically, and he noted that the smile didn't reach her eyes. He watched her, waiting for something, anything.

"Aren't you going to go visit your friends?" she asked quietly. "It is the Moon of No Boundaries."

How cruel. She had to say it out loud. "I don't have any friends," growled Breezefoot brusquely.

"Your daughters do," murmured Dewspots, which drew Breezefoot's attention. Why was she talking about Featherbright and Bluestep? What did they have to do with anything? "They have friends, and they're going to see them. Guess what, Breezefoot?"

"What?" mewed Breezefoot dully.

"They have lives," she stated simply, "and they're going on without you."

Breezefoot stared at her in astonishment. It was as though an epiphany overcame him. She was right. She was so right, but what could he do about it, when such pain overcame him, like poison rooting in his heart?

As he stared at her, he began to notice that she was--that she was, indeed, a very pretty she-cat. But I can't give her my heart, he thought, decided. I can't give her my heart, but that doesn't mean there isn't anything to give.

"I have friends, too," said Dewspots, and after a moment added decisively, "Why don't you come with me? I'm sure every cat would be glad to see you up and moving."

Had he been that sedentary? "Um. Alright. Where are we going?"

"ThunderClan," meowed Dewstops with a finality that made her impossible to ignore.

&&&

Lionclaw looked over the camp mistrustfully, not liking how many cats from other Clans were crawling about the place, looking at all its secrets. How long before they uncovered the secret niche where ThunderClan hid kits during invasions? Or the ledge where, if the elders crouched low, they couldn't be seen from the ground?

"Oh, calm down," purred a voice beside him. "At least act like you're comfortable."

"I don't like it," he growled. "Look at them. They're practically sniffing around, looking for weaknesses."

His sister Hollyblaze made a show of poking her nose over the edge of their ledge and scrutinizing the cats below. "They just look like they're socializing to me."

Lionclaw sputtered. "A clever disguise."

"Look," cried Hollyblaze. He immediately stiffened with alarm, but there was a flavour of joy in Hollyblaze's voice. "It's Willowheart! I haven't seen her in so long. Oh, come say hi with me, will you, Lionclaw?"

"She's your friend," grumbled Lionclaw, but he obediently followed her down the rocky slope to greet the silvery medicine cat from RiverClan.

Hollyblaze wound around her friend, purring. "I thought you'd never come," she mewed, batting playfully at Willowheart's ears. Lionclaw was uncomfortable with this display of inter-Clan affection. It made him think of his own near-mistake with Heatherwind.

Oh, StarClan...

And thinking of Heatherwind, of course, made him think of his brother. Oh, Jayfeather, he thought unhappily. What am I going to do without you? You were blind, and yet I would swear to anyone that out of the three of us, you could see the clearest...

So why did you have to leave?

A peaceful death. At least Jayfeather had had that.

When Breezefoot had come bearing Jayfeather's limp body, Lionclaw had almost torn him apart. As it was, he'd ripped apart the WindClan warrior's nose and ear and broken one of his toes. Breezefoot hadn't tried to deny anything until Firestar had dragged Lionclaw off of him, demanding an explanation.

While Breezefoot had given one, Lionclaw had broken down, keening in pure agony, collapsing beside his brother's unmoving form. Hollyblaze had stood over them with a terribly blank expression on her face.

The memory was so fresh in his mind that Lionclaw wrote off Breezefoot's overpowering scent as a remembrance of the blood he'd extracted from the WindClan cat's body that day. But after a moment he realized that, no, this scent was fresh--this scent, WindClan, Breezefoot's in particular, was here. Now.

His eyes flew open, and such a surge of hate ripped through him that he had to dig his claws into the ground to remain still. He was right there. The ferrier of Jayfeather's dead body.

"Lionclaw?" Hollyblaze questioned, noting his expression. Then she smelled it as well, and her face suddenly wiped itself of any emotion. It was the same blank, emotionless face she had worn that day during the Moon of No Boundaries.

"It's him," he whispered.

Breezefoot looked up then. He had been staring at the ground as he padded along behind a dappled grey she-cat, looking dejected and depressed. But now he looked up, and the first thing he saw was Lionclaw's face. Lionclaw stared at him, holding his blue eyes in thrall.

"No," mouthed Breezefoot. Lionclaw didn't know what he meant--but if it meant something like, "I can't do this right now," Lionclaw agreed wholeheartedly.

The problem was, they had to do this right now. They hadn't ever talked about it. And as little as Lionclaw talked about anything, he had to do it. To get it over with. As if being pushed from behind, Lionclaw stumbled forward until he stood muzzle-to-muzzle with a stock-still Breezefoot. Hollyblaze was at Lionclaw's flank, trembling, her face still blank.

"Why are you here?" Lionclaw demanded.

"I-I...I came with Dewspots," said Breezefoot, sounding unusually faint. Where was the belligerent Breezefoot that Lionclaw had traveled to the mountains with once? That Breezefoot hadn't been present for a long time now.

The silence stretched between them until finally Hollyblaze whispered, "I'm sorry, Breezefoot. I'm so sorry."

Both Breezefoot and Lionclaw were startled. "You're sorry?" said Lionclaw sharply.

But Hollyblaze was gazing at Breezefoot. "I know she loved you, Breezefoot. I know she did. On some level. You were her mate, and she loved you dearly."

Breezefoot was silent for a long moment. "But she loved him more, Hollyblaze. She loved him more."

Hollyblaze came forward and sympathetically touched her nose to Breezefoot's ear. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "If there was any way...if we could get them back, I would give anything. Even for Heatherwind. I'd give anything."

"But we can't," mewed Lionclaw suddenly. "And I wouldn't."

Hollyblaze and Breezefoot looked at him, looking hurt and uncertain and shocked. "You...wouldn't?"

"No," said Lionclaw, lowering his voice so it was barely a whisper. "Don't you two get it? It's what they wanted. They did it on purpose. They're happy now."

"Finally, one of you furballs understands," growled a voice, gruffly, like a breeze ruffling Lionclaw's ear. Hollyblaze's eyes widened, and Lionclaw felt a familiar brush of fur against his flank, and a touch on his ear as though a tail had flicked it.

Breezefoot's eyes were closed. "I see," he murmured. "I see. I understand now."

"Jayfeather," whispered Hollyblaze.

"And Heatherwind," sighed Lionclaw, remembering. Remembering too much.

"Hey," whispered Jayfeather's voice. "I love you. I'll always love you. Always. And that's a lot, coming from me."

Yeah, chuckled Lionclaw in his mind. It is.

"So don't forget that, okay?" murmured his brother. "Because I won't forget you. Never in a million seasons."

You won't be rid of me for that long, thought Lionclaw.

"I should hope not."

Then, without another word, Jayfeather's presence was gone. And half a moment later, he felt someone else--Heatherwind, her scent fresh in Lionclaw's nostrils--disappeared as well.

Lionclaw closed his eyes. I won't forget you, either.

&&&

When he left that day, for the first time in many moons, Breezefoot felt contented. He felt Dewspots press against his side, a friendly comfort, and the promise of much more, should he choose to listen.

Heatherwind's words had told him how Dewspots felt. And she had explained her every action, and she had said,

"Never, ever, ever think that I didn't love you, Breezefoot. If things had been different...if I had been different...One day I'll see you again, Breezefoot, and my love for you will not have lessened. I will never forget you."

Breezefoot closed his eyes and let Dewspots guide him for a moment with her gentle touch. I won't forget you, either, Heatherwind.

I'll never forget.

&&&

A HUGE thank you to everyone who has ever reviewed any of my fics. You don't understand how much it lifts me up to see a review. Even if I haven't replied to you - believe me, you've made my day that much better.

By the by, I should be getting Long Shadows soon. And like always, you can expect a fic after that, yeah?