A/N: This is my first attempt at a Hannah Montana fic, so please be gentle. Reviews are like crack to me, so if you feed my addiction I'll award you with another chapter ASAP.

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Chapter One:

Everything was going to be ok. She could handle this.

At least, that's what she had to keep telling herself to make it through the day.

Miley Stewart laid on her bed, staring at the ceiling as she fought to keep the tears from escaping down her pale cheeks. She couldn't believe this was happening, one moment she was on stage being Hannah Montana, the next she was Miley Stewart, the girl who's best friend had just passed away.

Never in a million years did she expect to lose one of her best friends, especially at the tender age of fifteen. She had just finished her first encore, tired and running strictly on adrenaline, when something had told her to look stage left, and in that moment, she saw Lilly, dressed in her Lola attire, sink to the ground, her eyes shut, her skin a grayish white. Her screaming fans were forgotten as the blood rushed wildly through her ears, leaving her gasping for breath and woozy as she tossed the headset to the ground, the mic pack falling a few moments later.

By the time Miley had made it to Lilly's side, her father was kneeling next to her best friend, shouting at one of the stage hands to call 911. Everything after that was a blur.

In a sterile, cold waiting room the doctors had told Miley, Robby, Jackson, and the Truscott family that Lilly had passed away. Miley hadn't even known that Lilly had a pacemaker. Most of what the doctor had said was over her head, although she had a feeling that even if she had understood, she would have still left with more questions than answers. How could a pacemaker just stop? How could someone just die without any warning signs at all? How could someone so young die from heart problems, wasn't that something that you had to worry about when you were older?

It wasn't as if Lilly was in bad shape, she was always on the go, whether it be sports, skateboarding, attempting to dance….she was physically fit. There had been no signs that under her tanned skin and blonde braids she had a piece of electronics controlling her heart, deciding whether or not she was going to live or die.

It was all so unfair.

There was a soft knock on her door, which Miley ignored. A few moments later, Robby stuck his head in, his words gentle and friendly, "Miley, bud, are you awake?"

She remained silent, but turned her head to look at her father, unable to stop the tears from spilling over as that horrible night played over again in her head. It had been three weeks, and today was supposed to be her first day back at school. Her teachers had been understanding the first week she was out, tolerant the second, and frustrated the third. She knew there was no chance that she'd be allowed to stay home any longer, not that staying holed up in her room helped her feel any better anyway. Staying at home wouldn't bring Lilly back. It wouldn't stop the flood of memories, the urge to pick up the phone and dial that familiar number, the stab of pain when she realized her best friend was truly gone. School, she knew, would be hard. She wasn't quite ready to face the empty desk, the abandoned locker. She hadn't seen Oliver since the night she said goodbye to Lilly at the hospital, she had been unable to force herself to go to the funeral.

She had tried, but it was just too hard.

The evening before Lilly's funeral services, her dad had taken her to the funeral home for the wake. She had paid her respects to Mrs. Truscott and through a woozy daze she had inched her way towards the open casket. She had only laid eyes on Lilly for a split second before she knew she was going to throw up, and she had barely made it to the bathroom before emptying her stomach on the tile floor, gasping for breath and shaking so badly she thought she was going to give herself a concussion. She hadn't been able to step foot into the viewing room again, and she knew she would only create a scene if she attended the funeral services.

"It's time to get up, sweetie."

Her father's gentle voice brought her from her haunting memories and she numbly sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed in silence. It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to her father, she just didn't have anything to say. None of these feelings were new, none of these memories were new, they had haunted her every waking moment of the past three weeks. To talk about it just made the tears fall faster, and she knew if she got herself worked into hysterics, there would be no way she could calm herself down enough to make it to school on time or at all. And, like her father had whispered into her ear just days earlier, life had to go on.

As she stepped into the shower, she couldn't help but think of how cruel the world was. Why was there a time limit on grief? The first few days, maybe even a week, it was totally accepted and expected. The second week, she could tell her family was getting worried about her withdrawn behavior, the constant tears and misery. In the third week after Lilly's death, her father had forced her to see a counselor, which did nothing to help the ache in her chest, the pain in her soul that had been a permanent mark on her since the moment Lilly collapsed. How could people expect her to get over losing her best friend, a friendship that had withstood so much, years of sharing every detail of each other's lives, a sisterly bond, in just three short weeks? As sobs overtook her body again, she sank to the shower floor on her knees, doubled over as she slammed her fist into the porcelain floor. She would never forget Lilly, she would never be able to erase this aching loneliness, mend her broken soul.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but as she calmed down, her sobs turning into hiccups, she noticed the water was running cold. If her father and Jackson hadn't been so caught up walking on eggshells around her, she was certain they would both be ripping her a new one for taking up all of the water. After countless morning fights, her father had imposed a strict 15 minute limit on showers on school days. As much as she liked not being hounded on for the day to day routine nuisances of life as a sibling, she couldn't help but be irritated over the way she was being treated with kids gloves. She didn't need them to remind her of what she had lost by treating her like a ticking time bomb. A part of her needed Jackson yelling at her, her father refereeing between the two of them. Maybe then she'd feel like this was a normal day and she was getting ready to go to school as a normal person.

A normal person with no best friend.

A normal person who watched her one true confidant stop breathing on the side stage of the amphitheater.

A normal person who felt like a part of her died along with Lilly Truscott.

She stumbled downstairs, sliding into her place at the table in silence, refusing to meet the sympathetic eyes of her brother and father. When she was ready to talk about her feelings, to release all of these emotions, she would turn to them. Now, she was afraid if she got all of these aching emotions off of her chest, she'd be left hollow and dead inside. The sadness, the pain, the agony was what was driving her, allowing her to fumble through the day, reminding her that while her friend was gone, she was still alive. Alive enough to feel, to breathe, to move.

"I made pancakes, do you want some eggs as well?"

Miley resisted the urge to snap something sarcastic at her father, knowing he just meant well. She just wished he could treat this like a normal school day, then maybe, just maybe, she'd be able to pretend everything was normal again. But this wasn't normal, not by a long shot. Her father never went all out for breakfast on a Monday morning, he saved that for the weekends. She let her eyes trail to Jackson, who was shoveling food in his mouth as if he hadn't eaten in months. She looked down at her own plate, where a pancake in the shape of a bunny sat, a slab of butter for his tail.

"Miley?"

Miley looked up at her father, startled out of her own thoughts as she realized he was still waiting on an answer from her. Her throat was dry and scratchy as she responded, partly from the lack of talking she had been doing lately, partly from the sobbing she had just finished partaking in. Clearing her throat, she managed to get out a "No eggs." as tears welled in her eyes again.

Sometimes, like this, there wasn't even a trigger for her crying. She didn't have to be thinking about Lilly for the pain to wash over her, the tears to start falling, the gaping hole of sorrow in her chest to rip open. It could strike anywhere, at any time, and it left Miley feeling vulnerable and exposed.

She drew in a shaky breath and tried to force herself to breathe and calm down. These efforts were in vain, however, when Jackson inched closer to her, pulling her into a big bear hug. In his uncharacteristically human gesture, Miley felt the dams burst and she began to heartily sob again, burying her head in his chest and shoulder as she shook with sobs.

She had fully expected him to stiffen up and give a teasing or sarcastic response at her outburst, but instead he surprised her once again by whispering soothing words in her ear, rubbing her back gently and urging her to cry it out. It didn't take long before her limited energy had been fully expended and she felt her knees buckle. He sank to the floor with her, never letting go as she continued to weep in his embrace.

She could picture the helpless look he had to be giving their father, but she couldn't tear herself away from the comfort of her big brother. Even with all of the bickering, the taunting, the harsh words they had exchanged, she knew deep inside that he'd always protect her, as a big brother should. Right now she needed to be protected, to forget, the outside world. As her tears began to try, her breathing began to even out, and on the kitchen floor she cried herself to sleep in Jackson's arms. Her last thought before giving in to exhaustion was that this would make three weeks and one day since Lilly's death, and she was still unable to function properly.

She was vaguely aware of her surroundings as she felt the world shift around her, her father's cologne invading her nostrils, footsteps that seemed to be matching the way she felt she was moving. He must be carrying her to bed. She desperately wanted to force her eyes open and tell him to let her go. She had been fighting sleep as much as possible since Lilly's death, nightmares plaguing her subconscious, dreams so real that she woke up thinking they had actually taken place. But the more she tried to force her eyes open, the more exhausted she felt, and with a weak moan she stopped trying, succumbing to the darkness as soon as she felt the soft mattress underneath her back.

As she drifted off, she was barely able to make out her father and brother's voices expressing concern for her sanity and well-being. And for some odd reason, she felt reassured as her brother's voice rang out that he was going to stay close by and keep an eye on her, just in case she needed anything.

She wasn't sure if it was because they had both experienced the pain of losing their mother together, the way he had just treated her downstairs or what, but she had a feeling he understood what she was going through and he wouldn't let her fall through the cracks. And for the first time in 22 days, Miley let herself fully relax, and sleep came to her immediately.