A/N: I don't own Primeval. Or this would never have been necessary.

My own belated goodbye to Stephen.

Now That He's Gone

Now that he's gone, there is nothing. Emptiness fills the spaces he left, until I want to scream. There is no-one else, he was the only one who could fill that gap, who did it so well you could barely see the cracks where there used to be a gaping chasm. Now that he's gone.

His things have gone, vanished from his desk. I asked where they went, but nobody told me. Like he never existed. Now that he's gone.

The colours are dull, like my vision is clouded. The things I wondered at with him now seem so meaningless, as I struggle to maintain the façade. Now that he's gone.

People ask if I'm ok, I nod my head. They have other people to fill the gap, other things. But for me, there was just him. And now, nothing. Now that he's gone.

He came to me, and told me I was perfect. Not in a 'let's get together' kind of perfect, but in a way that made me believe him. He was my family, all rolled up and mashed together, in the giant mixer he had on the counter top, sometimes my dad, sometimes my brother. Always my friend. But now he is lost. Now that he's gone.

We used to watch the sunrise together. I've always watched the sunrise, since I can remember, but now I do it only out of habit. The joy of the always changing miracle, the awe at the Creator's wonders, all in that moment, over so fast. Like him. I knew him only for a moment, before he was ripped from my side. The wound won't heal. Now that he's gone.

It was a closed coffin. They told me it was so I remembered him in life, not in death, but I know the truth. There wasn't much to put in the coffin anyway, just the remains of the bones, cracked for the marrow, spattered with his blood. No-one can fix this hole. Now that he's gone.

Death used to be a tidy thing for me. It was peaceful, with people surrounded by those they loved. Then, we would burn their bodies, send their ashes billowing up into the sky, free at last. But they buried him, in the earth, in the dark, hidden from all but the burrowers, the crawlers, those he respected. There's no-one to stop the pain. Now that he's gone.

I sit here, next to his grave, writing this. That's all that is left for people to see, a great stone tablet, half-buried in the ground. Rest in Peace. But he left me behind. How could he leave me, here, in a world that is not my own. That will never be my own. Now that he's gone.

They come to me, they ask me if I need anything. Yes, I want to say, I need him. But it's too late. I was too late. I shake my head, begging them to leave, to leave me with him. But I can't truly be with him anymore. Now that he's gone.

One day, someone else comes. He doesn't try to fill the gap, where all the pain is flooding through. He just stays with me, holds my hand, takes some of the pain, enough to make it bearable. His shape slots into place, and we walk away together. But I still remember. The chinks of darkness still seep through, and I remember. Now that he's going…

going…

Gone.

I know its a bit late, but please review.