A/N This may not be my best story, but I wanted to write about this and this is what I came up with.

It was strange how your mind could convince yourself that you would never be happy again, but yet you kept going.

How you could be so convinced you would never truly be happy, but something kept you living. How there was always something in you that kept fighting in you to live. Even if it was just basic human instinct, it seemed so strange.

The memories of Maeve kept replaying in my mind. The never ending flow of thoughts of how I could have saved her, how I could have done something different, if I was just mart enough or fast enough or anything, she'd still be here.

What was the point of being a 'genius' if you weren't smart enough to save the one you loved? How could I save anyone ever again when I couldn't even save her? Why did I live when she didn't?

"It's not fair!" I shouted into the empty room listening to my ears ring afterwards, what had I done to deserve this, to have all my happiness ripped away.

Her soft brown eyes haunted my dream, her dead lifeless eyes. Even with a eidetic memory, in the brief flash of time I saw her alive. All that remained was a perfect recollection of her dead eyes, blank and unfocused. There was so much time we should have had together, it shouldn't of had to end this way.

I was crying now, not that, that was strange I had been crying almost non-stop since it had happened. I kept staring at the wall, as if it held the answers to my questions. Of course it didn't, I knew I should try and distract myself, to move on, but it seemed as if I was glued to the spot. Staring at the wall tears silently rolled down my cheeks and memories attacked me.

I knew I should go back to work, but I couldn't. Everything would be different, everyone would be trying to help of course, but it would make it worse, I couldn't stand the thought of the whispers, everyone asking if I was okay, them talking to me carefully as If I was made of glass. No I would be better off dealing with this by myself just as I had all my other problems,

I wanted to scream, I wanted to break things, but I couldn't find the will or the energy . I knew the signs of depression and I knew I had them, but yet help seemed like such a impossibility.

Why would I deserve help when Maeve was dead? When I had let her die? When I had been so close and failed? When I had let her die?

I wished I was the one who had died. She deserved to live more than I did.

I could fix that I thought, maybe if I died to I would finally be with her. With her warm brown eyes full of life and love.

I wanted with every fiber of my being to see what awaited me in death, but I couldn't. Thoughts of what that would do to my team flashed before my mind, how could I be so selfish as to do that to them.

So I didn't move ,I just laid there staring at that wall, tears silently staining my cheeks.