A/N::: Start time 12:00am- 5:46am See how much I love you guys? …True, I haven't updated in a long, long time. But I finished this story. Completely! Had to break the last part into two parts, it was too long.

Disclaimer::: I don't own the series :/ Or the song, which is Happy by Leona Lewis

Enjoy

Chapter 3

Holding on tightly
Just can't let it go

The miniature bouquet of lilies in my grasp was the only thing keeping me from losing my composure.

"Okay people, listen! Listen!" a voice yelps from behind me. We stand at the entrance of the wooden doors of the chapel, and I have no choice but to let the blood return to my hand as I force the tension to leave my posture, grinning as I watch my scattered-brained, longtime friend Elizabeth Sutton wave a clipboard in all our faces. I can't help but notice the sparkling rock on her left ring finger and glance at the man who stood in a black tux beside her, his black frazzled hair matching his skewed glasses. So Jonas finally got the courage to propose, huh.

"You all look beautiful!" she exclaims, referring to our matching rosy red bridesmaids dresses and coordinated up-done hair. Except, her dress seemed a little loose (as if she'd lost weight from all the panicking she's done in just 8 hours) and her bun was lop-sided. Even then, she looked like familiar Liz, who'd always been there by us all in our time of need. "And handsome," she added, as if the groomsmen minded she had ignored them. Jonas glances at her reassuringly, and I felt a hint of jealousy. But only a hint. "It's almost time to get the show started," she says, her eyes wide with excitement. "Zach's on his way to the podium, and Bex is-" she stops, glancing at her clipboard and readjusting the Bluetooth head set she'd bought especially for today. She tilts her head to the side, as if listening to a silent conversation as we stand there feeling uncomfortable.

There are eight of us there, crowded in the hall of the half-filled church; Macey, who rested her head on Preston's shoulder, her eyes closed. I could tell her five year old daughter, Amber, has taken a toll on her, dark bags under her eyes and her posture wasn't as ramrod as ever. Still, her shiny ebony hair and model-like features made her look as stunning as usual. Behind her stood Bex's cousin from England, Paige, who knew about her family's role in MI6, but chose to lead a normal life, and her husband Mark, talking quietly amongst themselves. Then there was Liz, who stood in the same exact position, with Jonas by her side, who looked pensive. From my peripheral I could see the man beside me squirm, his hand trying to loosen the tie at his neck, his god-like features looking queasy as he tried to stand still, failing miserably.

"Grant," I murmur, low enough for just one pair of ears. He snaps his head towards me, his green eyes looking frantic, "are you alright?" I knew he wasn't; I knew this was as painful for him as it was for me. But I wanted to remind him we were doing this for them. Because they were the ones we held close to our hearts and couldn't risk losing for selfish reasons.

"I feel god damn miserable," he whispered, his voice pained. "I know we're doing this because they asked us to, but god damn it Cammie, I feel like a part of me is dying." I flinch at his words; I've never seen this side of Grant before. "I'm trying to be fair," he mutters, "I'm trying to remind myself that they're perfect for each other, that I screwed up miserably and this is supposed to happen, but my heart," he whispers, taking my hand in his and holding it against his chest, "my heart feels like they ripped it out of my chest, stomped on it and threw it back in without a second thought." I have to blink away tears, gulping in shaky breaths until I can get my body to stop shaking. And then I met his defeated gaze with my hopeless one, feeling, for the first time, that someone finally understood the pain that's been a constant friend these last years.

"I know," I whimper, squeezing his hand, "I know."

Just trying to play my role
Slowly disappear, ohh

We stood like that, two broken hearts unable to mend but able to comfort, when Liz tripped into me, breaking the gloomy atmosphere with her "oopsy daisy!" She was babbling about Bex, and how she'd locked herself in her dressing room and how her father was trying to get her to come out but how she was refusing to see anyone but her Maid of Honor.

"Please Cammie," she says, winded by her own words, "please go save the day. Bex needs you."

"Ok, Lizzy," I sooth, trying to calm her reddening cheeks, "no need to get all distraught. I'll go make sure Bex walks down the aisle with a smile plastered on her face. In the meantime, make sure the crowd doesn't get restless." I step back, watching one of my best friends regain composure, finally in her area of expertise. Her eyes return to their excited blue color as she yelps an OK and scrambled off into Jonas' arms.

I start to turn away when I feel a hand grasp my wrist. "Cam-" he starts.

"Don't." I flinch at my cracked voice. "Grant, don't. You know as well as I do how much this means," I whisper, "you know I have to do this no matter how much it hurts."

"Ok," he murmurs, letting go. "Ok."

But all these days, they feel like they're the same
Just different faces, different names

"Bex?" I knock, hesitant, watching her father's hunched form walking away. "Bexy?" I whisper, "It's me, Cam. Bexy, honey, open the door," I plead. Unsurprisingly, it cracks open. I slip through before closing it shut quietly. Looking at her, I don't think I've ever seen anyone more beautiful. Her dress was white and soft looking, taking her every curve and emphasizing her body's perfection. Her hair was curled and down, a veil making her looks saintly and pure. She was lying on the ground, her eyes closed, her arms and legs out like someone making a snow angel.

"Oh Bex," I breathed, watching her splayed form on the floor of her dressing room. "No wonder you don't want to go out there," I sigh, watching as she opened her hazel eyes, amused. "Your beauty alone is enough to make every person in there drop dead at the sight of someone so…" I struggle for a word, "angelic."

"Angelic," she repeats. She later adds, dully, "I feel like shit." I sigh, sitting beside her.

"At the very least you took care to keep your dress clean," I observe, referring to the blanket under her. I make sure I don't touch it, wrapping my arms around my knees. I know this blanket, I think bitterly, at one time, it was mine.

"It's Zach's," she sighs. "I wonder if he'll hate me after this."

"He won't," I chide in confidently, "because you are going to walk down that aisle in all your stunning beauty and make him happy."

"I can't," she whimpers, finally breaking her unaffected attitude. She turns her head to me, her eyes ready to be overrun with tears. "I can't go through with this."

I give her a warning look. "First off, don't you dare cry, Baxter. I did not threaten the best makeup artist from Italy to do your makeup, only to have you ruin it with tears." She gives me a shaky grin and I breathe a mental sigh of relief, glad I hadn't over done it. "Second of all," I add, completely serious, "there's no reason for you to not go out there and marry the man of your dreams." I close my eyes, telling myself that I was on a mission, that my words are just words and not shards of glass stabbing into my heart. I've been on plenty of missions, wearing different names and sometimes different faces. I was glad when I was sent to a country half way around the world. But coming home, to my country, came a dread of living a lie. Every day was the same. And every day will be the same if I succeed in getting Rebecca Baxter to put on her shoes and walk down the aisle. "This is your day," I murmur absentmindedly, "this is your day and you're going to relish in it. You're going to stand beside Zach and tell him you love him to everyone so they can know just how much he means to you. There's no way he can't be unhappy, not with-" I pause, the word me on my tongue, before I catch myself, flustered, "not with you by his side. He loves you Bex. You know that."

"You're right," she sniffles. "He's everything I want. But…" she struggles to sit up, her slouched form unlike her. "I don't feel like I can love him like I loved Grant," she says so quietly I'm afraid I heard wrong. But I read her lips, and I'm sure I saw what I just saw; a hint of doubt. A way for everyone to be happy, I think immediately but erase that thought almost immediately. No. No. I don't deserve happiness. Bex and Zach do. They deserve each other. I muster up any self-discipline that I can to keep my voice from wavering.

"Well you won't know until you try," I say firmly, "and now's your chance to try. There's always divorce, you know," I offer offhandedly and mentally scold myself for even thinking it.

"Yeah," she giggles as I offer my hand to help her stand up, "you're right. There's always that."

"Don't forget your shoes," I say as I turn away, cringing as my voice goes a little too high as I turn away to compose myself. I bite down on my finger and squeeze my eyes shut to keep from feeling too much.

Get me out of here

What have you done? I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, breathing heavily. I don't even look at myself, just splash handfuls of water on my face to wipe away the last five minutes. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? My inner voice screams. AFTER EVERYTHING YOU'VE BEEN THROUGH, YOU RUINED IT. ABSOLUTELY RUINED IT.

"No," I whimper, the tears coming down fast. "No, no, no. It didn't just happen. I did not just-" I lean against the wall and let myself fall with a resounding thump. And I cry.

Standing there, in front of a small crowd of sixty, watching my best friend walk through the doors with her father, a pang of jealousy hits me. She's always had a father; I lost mine before I even knew it. She's marrying the man of my dreams, who I loved since… since I knew what love was. But I plaster on a smile as they reach the raised podium, Zach mouthing a thank you to her dad, and whispering "you look beautiful" to her, and I know he means it.

I feel like I'm suffocating.

I can't stand by your side, ohh no
And watch this life pass me by, pass me by

The priest begins to speak, and I refuse to meet anyone's gaze.

I ignored the audience politely when I had walked through the double doors, my grip on Grant's arm so tight I was afraid I would caught off his circulation. I had looked right through Zach and grinned, nodding my head as if I was offering him congratulations. I had ducked my head as I lined up beside Liz and Macey and Paige, pretending I was taking care to not trip. And now I was standing beside them both, close enough to smell Bex's perfume, and I was empty. A void was cracking through my heart's exterior, leaving a gaping hole of nothing.

And then I saw the look on Grant's face. Anguish, pain, longing. And he was looking right at Rebecca. My insides began to panic as I catch snippets of the speech about love and cherish and memories. Grant, no, the voice inside my head shrieks, don't you do this! He breaks his aching gaze and looks at me, and sees the panic in my eyes and understands that I've noticed. That I've seen through him. He gives me a sad smile that creates a crack in my resolution to keep these two together. I shake my head subtly, telling him no, he can't, he won't do this. After all of it, he can hold on and stand by his best friend for a few more minutes. He can.

But he won't. I see it in his gaze, that he won't have it. He won't let Bex go without one last plea, even if it potentially ruins his relationship with his best friend. Oh, my god, my thoughts wail, my head filled with doubts and thoughts and possibilities, this can't be happening.

"Ok, ladies and gentlemen," the priest speaks, raising his dainty voice to be heard loud and clear, "if anyone here believes that these two should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace." I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing it would just pass. The room is silent, all sixty of them watching with, what I would think, a peaceful gaze. And when I hear Grant's suck in a deep breath, because my ears are alert and waiting, just waiting for him to speak, and he says "I-" that's as far as I let him go.

"Don't do this," I whisper, and I feel like I am no longer a chameleon as the room reacts to my words. I meant to direct the words at Grant, but when I snap my eyes open, my gaze is on Zach and his on mine. I feel the blood drain from my face as I glimpse Rebecca's look of horror as she turns to look at me, and finally Grant, whose face is one of shock and hope. I cover my mouth with a shaking hand, unable to take the words back. "I-I-" No words come out. I don't even know what I'm trying to say. Excuse myself? Or keep going?

"Oh, my god," I hear Paige mutter, "you bitch."

"Shut up!" Liz whispers fiercely.

"Oh, Cam," Macey tsks in that voice of hers.

"Cam?" Bex asks in a voice so small, my heart aches, "why?"

"I'm sorry, Bex," I manage, stepping back, away from them all. I am not like them. I am not good at heart, and never will be. "I'm so sorry, but I can't do this." I let the bouquet of wilted lilies fall to the ground as I flee, unable to make out anything but the side door of the church that I escape through. I think I hear Grant or Zach call after me, but I don't even turn around or slow down. I am not meant to be in a church. I am not pure; blood stains my hands. I have spilled enough of it to bathe in. I was not meant to be in such a holy place.

So any turns that I can't see,
I'll count on a stranger on this road

I reach the large, heavy doors that lead to the outside world and stumble through them, a bright light flashing me as I gasp in the clean air and feel the hot sun beating down on my pale skin. I take a moment to revel in this airiness inside of me, closing my eyes once again. I feel lighter than I have in years as I begin to trip down the concrete stairs, my feet unable to keep up with my neurons as I force my body to run. I crash into someone standing in the middle of the decorated pathway that leads to the church, blindly reaching out and letting them grip my arm before pulling away.

"What's going on?" he asks me. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I say, and for the first time in years, I mean it. I truly do.

"Where are the bride and the groom?" he asks, puzzled. I recognize him as the photographer Macey hired.

"I don't know," I reply. "Probably getting married."

A/N:::

:D Hope it was good, after such the long wait. School was a biiiitch. Sports were a pain in the arsehole, hah.

Please review? I'll update the last part sooner (which I already wrote, by the by) the more reviews there are!