A/N: I'm terrible. Please throw rocks at my head and make me face the wrath of ... Zach's mom? I don't know. Be creative. This is almost a three year absence. That's disgusting. I'm ashamed of myself. My excuse sucks (I haven't read any Gallagher for two and a half years, that's it. I just lost interest). Please don't kill me. I'm back. And I'm in love with Zammie as much as I've always been (way more love with Jiz and Grex [lame ship-names, but we haven't seen any of them since CMH]). Anyway, this is a little one-shot from Zach's point of view. It's mainly Cammie and Zach, but you get some Liz/Jonas Bex/Grant too ... if you squint, tilt your head, flutter your eyelashes, and spin in a circle.

DISCLAIMER: Yup. You've caught me. I own Cammie, Zach, Liz, Macey, Bex, everyone. They are all mine. Wait ... what was that? Did you hear that? Are you sure you didn't? ... There it is again! It couldn't be ... oh no! It is! They're coming for me! They're suing me! The law suits! I OWN NOTHING! I SWEAR! -runs away screaming in fear of the lawyers because I honest to God don't own any of these characters-

. .::.:.::. .

Here Comes Goodbye

The gravel crunched under my well worn sneakers. I could see the apartment building coming into view and I exhaled. One more block. The patter of rain against my shoulders felt like pellets of stones. Each hitting harder than the last. It was like Liz had started throwing them, gotten tired, gave up, then Macey had started in, and then finally, Bex was giving it her all. But, that didn't matter, I could've dealt with them later. That wasn't an issue, not right then at that moment. She was what mattered. She was the only thing that had ever mattered.

I could feel the five o'clock air constricting around me, and as I raced across the pavement towards our building's door, I knew. I knew that I had been more than stupid. I knew that all my faults were finally coming to bite me in the arse.

The steps leading up to our apartment felt like I was leading myself towards my own execution. Our key felt heavy in my hand. And only when I reached the door did I finally notice my hand shaking. My whole body, it was shaking. I wanted to be paralyzed and I needed my heart to be taken out from within me. Because everything hurt, and I had no one to blame but myself.

I don't think I will ever understand how I got the door open, but the next moment I was in our foyer. And I finally realised, it wasn't our foyer anymore. It was just mine.

Somehow, my feet had the ability to move, to function. There must have been something new within my body controlling them, because my brain certainly wasn't the one telling them it was alright to walk. Stumble. I don't think I could ever walk again. I was simply stumbling, gripping around for life again. And I don't believe it was even healthy to start that process in ou- the bedroom. Because looking at a room filled with emptiness, that wasn't really a great start to a new Cammie-free life. Seeing that it was empty. Seeing that somehow it still smelled like her. Seeing that all I could see was her. She had laughed here, she had smiled here, she had been mine here. But I had somehow managed to screw it all up, screw her up. I only ever seemed to manage to screw things over. That was all I ever did. To the things that mattered.

My hand reached out to the closet and slowly but surely I managed to open the doors. All I could see was Cammie. My Gallagher Girl. I could see where she had ripped her things off the hangers. I saw the places where her coats had hung, where my coat was still hanging. I had given it to her. And it was here. Right in front of me. Still swinging as if it was still trying to decide whether or not it was supposed to be packed with the rest of her clothing.

I watched as my heart shattered on the floor.

The legs that happened to be attached to my body, because there could be no way that they were my legs; they didn't seem to want to obey anything my brain was telling them to do, which was to just stay still, continued on into the sitting room. The sitting room that was still filled. Filled with our pictures. Pictures of us. Pictures of Cammie and me. My favourite picture had always been a simple black and white shot that the wedding photographer had taken. She was in her bridesmaid dress, and I was in my tux. She hadn't seen the man coming to snap a photo of us, so we were smiling and laughing at each other, her palm spread out against my cheek. She looked so full of bliss. I had made her look that adoringly at me. I had whispered, "Soon you'll be in your wedding dress, Gallagher Girl." She had laughed, teasing me, "And how do you know that Blackthorne Boy?" I had muttered one word before kissing her, "Spy."

But the photo was covered now. A sheet of paper had been taped to it.

Zach-

That was the last of her handwriting. Water stains were scattered across the page. And I couldn't even distinguish who's they were. Hers or mine.

Harsher words had taken over the letter where the neat and simple writing I knew Cammie had written disappeared. Bex.

You're dead this time, Goode. Liz is going to be in the lab from now on, researching the most painful death that won't have the ability to be traced back to Cammie. I think Jonas will happily assist her when he understands why. You little swine. Macey has been in talks with Preston. I don't think you'll be allowed out of the country for a while. When in reality you shouldn't be allowed out of a morgue ever again. You can suffer with all of the pictures. I refused Cammie to take even one. So hopefully you feel a fraction of the pain she feels. Don't contact any of us for a while, don't visit. She'll be staying with us. Don't try to talk to her. I will not hesitate to murder you on the spot with whatever is in my hands.

The letter ended. No signature or parting words. But I wouldn't notice until much later on. Because my legs had finally succumbed to my brain's desire.

Sobs rippled throughout my whole body. I was simply a blob of tears on the floor, and I had no desire to continue on in this world. Because what do you do when you've lost the only thing, the only person, in the whole world who you love? My head was aching, all of the stupid actions, all of the stupid words I had thrown at her. My infidelity was the icing on the cake. How do you explain that? How do you get back from something like that? I had no excuse. I never had any excuses. The only thing I had, the only piece I had that still connected me to her was the ring in my palm. The gorgeous ten-carat diamond I had saved up for weeks to buy. But even my proposal had fallen short. Everything I did had never been fully thought through. But she had never seemed to care. She had always understood. She always gave me the benefit of the doubt. It didn't really matter anymore, because I had finally reached her tipping point. And how do you ever get back from something like that? You just don't.

I believe it was around three hours later that I found myself in our bed - because, it was still our bed; after everything that had happened, this would always be our bed - and I sank it a fitful sleep. A sleep plagued with nightmares and painful deaths. A sleep that was totally absent of my Cammie. Only versions of a sobbing Cammie, a downtrodden Cammie, a broken Cammie seemed to enter my mind. But by the time I woke up the next morning with red-rimmed eyes and my mind totally fogged and sleep-deprived, I knew only one positive thought. And truthfully it wasn't all the positive, but it could help take me away from the pain of the tear stained letter, the tears I knew she had shed. The tears she had shed because of me. The only thought that crossed my mind was getting her back. Getting her back into my arms. That seemed to be the only solution to my problem. My problem. My heartbreak. My fault. My faults had led me here, and I needed to figure a way to fix it all. It just couldn't be goodbye. I couldn't let her say goodbye, just not yet.

. .::.:.::. .

A/N: That was angsty. I think I said it wouldn't be angst on the poll (it rated number three ... and the poll is STILL up for those who want to vote). So on my next one-shot (coming soon, I swear on my beautiful baby [AKA, my black Macbook]) I should have a complete list of all those who reviewed during my unacceptable hiatus. And that next one won't be shit, and sad, so you will want to be commemorated on that one. By the way, so I have no clue how this happened, but there are an extra thousand words on my other uploaded fic of this. But it's a DocX, so it wasn't the one I was going to upload and I'm totally confused, because they are the exact same thing. It's really weird. Whatever.

So you should all write to me and tell me how much you hate me for taking so long. You should tell me that you will never forgive me, especially since my coming back involves angst. And a not so happy ending. Like what was that? It wasn't supposed to happen that way ... -schmeh- ... but still, do let me know how you'd like to give me open heart surgery ... awake. Oops. I've been caught. That was just a sly way to get you to review. -blushes- I'm terrible.

And after all this time, I still have one thing to say ... I heart you.

xx

UPDATE: Forgot to add. I'm looking for a beta. Someone let me know if they're interested in working with this crazy.