Disclaimer: I don't own these people. They are all property of ABC.

Author's note: I wrote this on día de los muertos (Day of the Dead). Day of the Dead is an important holiday in Mexico and other parts of the world, particularly Latin countries when we believe that our loved ones who have passed away are able to visit us so we clean and decorate their graves and put out their favorite foods. I don't know why I connected the holiday with OltL, but anyway…

Sobreviviendo no es viviendo-Surviving is not living

--Spanish language proverb

She knelt down, letting her knees sink into the soft earth and placed the flowers beside the marker, arranging them next to those which had already been laid there, probably by Carlotta.

Two years. It had been two years since Cristian died. So much had happened since then, it seemed so long ago. And yet, her memories of him were still vivid-his smile, his voice, his taste. But they were all mixed up now; mixed up with those of that imposter who had worn his face and stolen his life.

She'd never really believed she'd survive without Cristian. But somehow, here she was; not just surviving, but for the first time without him really living. Loving.

One year ago John had found her here, blood streaming down her face, searching for Cristian and a way to bury Paul Cramer and everything he had helped her do to her life. But she hadn't found Cristian and someone else had buried Cramer and it was John who found her. Found her and then pushed her away because he wanted her safe, and that included from him.

And one year later here they were. Here she was. John waiting back at his place, understanding she needed to do this alone, but she knew he'd be ready with that rich smile of his, which wasn't broad, but went deep. With a kiss to make it better, even though they both knew some wounds couldn't be healed.

And that's when she noticed it. A smell like the cologne of a person who's just walked by, only it wasn't cologne. It was Cristian's smell. A smell she remembered so well from lying in bed with her face buried against his neck…

She turned half expecting to see him, but saw only the rows of other graves. Strange, she could have sworn she heard someone moving.

Rising she made her way back towards the hotel. It was a beautiful day—what autumn should be. A chill breeze fluttered the brightly colored leaves around and the sun shone golden. As she cut through an alley way she thought for a moment she smelled him again, but was quickly distracted by a strong gust of wind which blew a scrap of paper into her face. She caught it and looked at it.

Her mind must have been playing tricks on her because it couldn't be what it looked like. But there was no way she could convince herself that the sketch of the woman closely resembling herself hadn't been drawn by Cristian. She looked around as if something in her surroundings would explain the presence of the drawing, but it was just an alleyway, with no particular significance for her or Cristian. Shivering she continued on, clutching the scrap of paper.

She found John on the roof waiting for her. She wasn't greeted by the smile she'd hoped for, but the kiss was there. A long, desperate kiss as though he thought he wouldn't get to kiss her again. "How you doing?" he asked caressing her hair when she finally pulled back.

"Okay," she said fidgeting with the wrinkled scrap of paper, "I'm kind of having a weird day."

"How so?" he asked handing her a beer.

"Hard to describe," she said opening it, "You ever feel like even though you know someone's gone… like they're still almost close enough to touch?"

John took a long swig from his own beer and briefly contemplated telling her he'd just had yet another long conversation with his dead father, but decided against it. "Yeah," he said wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"But I don't want to think about that," she said nestling against his chest, "You're here, you're close enough to touch."

"And so are you," he murmured into her ear, clutching her tighter, knowing he wouldn't have many more opportunities to hold her.

She peered down at the Square below, watching the leaves dance around Cristian's angel. And then her eyes fell on a figure standing beside it, looking up at it. The night breeze brought his scent to her nose once more…

"Cristian?" she whispered.

The ones who love us never leave us.