AN: I'm not really sure where this came from...it just sort of - did. It's an angsty Hermione fic. I'll let you decide for yourselves who she's talking about. 'Nyways, let me know what you think. I don't often write fan fiction for anything but the Tribe, so...

~Eleri~

The tears trickle down my cheeks. Silly, I know. You can't see them now, and even if you could, I doubt you'd care. You're walking away, leaving. Part of me wants you to look back, just so you can see that I do feel, that you were wrong when you said those words. But the other part, the sensible part - that part tells you to keep walking, because I don't want you to see me cry. After all you told me, all those words, I'm still trying to hide it. You're right, you see, I am too proud. Too aloof. Always have been, always will. Because I'm scared.

Over the years, I've tried so hard to convince myself that it's okay to feel, okay to be vulnerable some times. And every now and then, I almost did. When you were there with me, both of you. You almost made me feel that I could just be. Not worry about hiding, not worry about being safe, or smart, or secure. Just be. But you never quite managed, because there was always that little nagging part of my brain that plagued me with 'What if? What if?'. And that part always won.

Now, watching you leave, I know I've lost the only chance I had to be happy, all because I couldn't drop my defences and feel. I didn't want to admit that I needed anyone apart from myself. Look where that's brought me. I'm standing alone, in the middle of the street, in the rain, and you're leaving. Why is it only now that I let myself cry? You're right, I should have cried before, at his funeral. But I couldn't. I just...couldn't. You think I didn't try to let myself cry? Of course I did. I tried so hard, but it never worked.

I think someone's horn is honking at me now. I'm standing in the middle of the road, where you left me. There are people yelling...I can't hear their words...are they talking to me? Maybe I should move. But I can't. Now you've gone, I can't even get my feet off the ground to take a few steps. Not even if those few steps could save my life.

Funny, isn't it, how the worst things always happen when you think life just can't get worse? I knew the car was coming, even before it hit. I wanted to move, I think I even started to move. For an instant, my whole life was in slow motion. And then it started again, and the car hit.

You know another thing? Those things you think will be the most painful - like being hit by a car, like dying - those aren't the things that hurt the worst. The thing that hurt the worst was the look in your eyes when you turned away. And the look in them now, as you gaze down at me.

Are you crying? I can't tell. I think I am. Something wet is dripping down my cheek towards my mouth. I frown slightly as it hits the corner of my lips. No, not tears, blood. So I am dying.

Why are you crying? Isn't this what's best. You said it yourself, I have no feelings. How can you live if you can't feel anything. And I don't feel anything now, not really. Not even the pain.

Everything's blurring. It's hazy. There are faces...but I don't know how many. I know you're here. I always knew when you were here. Are there other people? I can't tell...

I can't keep my eyes open any longer. I'm so tired. It wouldn't help, anyway, it's not like they'll let me see

anything I need to know. I close them, and it's dark now, and I can hear voices around me, mumbling, far away, distant.

And then, all of a sudden, they're crystal clear. All the voices. If I opened my eyes, maybe I'd be able to see, too. But I can't open them. Why not? I want to see! I want to see your face again! Please? Plea...