A/N: Yeah, I'm back baby! Was listening to Sheryl Crow and got this real vivid image of this playing out in my head, so I thought id share it with y'all. If I haven't r&R'd ya work lately..... Don't worry, I'm getting around to it.... I've just had loads on. Muses.... Pfft, What ya gonna do with them?

Remy: Remy got a few 'deas.... non?

Dallas: And what would that be Cajun?

Remy: Can show y' if y' like....

Dallas: ... Shut up....

NB: Yes, this is allllll Dallas's fault.... Fluff.... angst.... her area. Honest. Nothing to do with the writer! Also..... AU.

"It Don't Hurt"

It had been a couple of years since he went, and she still missed him everyday. It hurt inside when she looked out of the window at the sky, especially the night sky. Every time she looked at it, it reminded her of him. How much he'd loved it. Loved the freedom. As she was sat there, she took the piece of paper from the side, leaving the music playing softly, wordless so far.... That was what she was writing. The words to the music, for her Love. Her only Love, no matter what. No-one would ever compare.

It don't hurt like it did
I can sing my song again
It don't hurt like it did
I can sing my song again.
Her handwriting was a lot more curvasive and emotive than usual, giving away her true feelings. She loved him. He made her feel.... Wanted. Safe. Everything she'd ever wanted, had been personified in him. It had taken a few mistakes, but they'd gotten comfortable. They'd learnt that they fit together nicely....

I scraped the paper off the wall
I put down carpet in the hall
I left no trace of you at all
And I can sing my song again
Once he was gone she'd left everything for a while, then, in a flood of tears, and a fit of anger she'd ripped the paper off, throw the furniture, and almost destroyed their home until she collapsed in a heap in the middle of the floor.

I don't dream 'cuz I don't sleep
The moon is hanging like your hat
The sun comes up
Well I don't see
Curtains tied up like a bat
She didn't sleep anymore. She hadn't since he'd been gone. Perhaps it was waiting to see if he'd come to her in the night, like he had done so many times before. She had to be removed from the window physically, and forced to eat at first. She didn't go out anymore, preferring not to. She couldn't stand it if she saw.... Her. She didn't know what she'd do.... if she'd have the energy to fight her, or to just accept it as inevitable. Let it happen. She'd always been a fighter, but without him, She just couldn't. She had nothing to fight for.... to fight to protect anymore.
The electric man looks good today
Maybe not, well I'm trying hard
Trying hard to feel that way
The electric man's a good place to start
Ray had been around to fix the electricity that she'd blown last night when she had the strength to be mad about it. About him leaving. It wasn't his fault, that woman.... that thing.... had made him. Ray was still single, and he hadn't tried to hide the fact that he found her attractive. Of course, he wasn't bad looking himself. He had grown up a little, and, well, in the words of Kitty, he had become "Like, a total hunk!". She couldn't fool herself. She still loved Him. She wasn't ready for anyone else in her life. Infact, she didn't know if she ever would be....
Took your paintings off the wall
That one of me that you called doll
I added on 'cuz the house was feeling small
Now I can sing my song again
She had been surprised at first, about how good an artist he was. He could paint things in startling clarity, capturing emotion in the picture, as well as the beauty of the object. He'd done a few of her, but the one that had been on public display on the wall.... She'd taken that one down. It wasn't right anymore. It wasn't her. She didn't smile, and she definitely hadn't had her uniform on in quite a while. She looked happy in the picture.
I don't think of you no more
Except for everyday or two
I don't think of you no more
Except for in between the sun and moon
That was about right. She didn't think of him constantly anymore. Only everyday, unless the Doctor had been called again, and gave her an injection to make her sleep for a full day. She'd think of him till the sun turned purple, and the moon was made out of blue cheese. Blue. That was his colour..... as much as purple was hers. They'd been such a perfect match.

She looked down at her paper, at the words she had written, and the few that were marred slightly by teardrops that she hadn't realised had been falling. She had to finish this now. How would her story end? Their story. Happily ever after?
Packed up and moved out after all
Bulldozed the house and watched it fall
That blessed sight I still recall

I can sing my song again
I can sing my song again
Maybe Not. Everything didn't end happily ever after. It never did. She wiped the tear from her cheek, as she recalled her Angel taking the bullet from the woman's gun that had been meant for her. She knew how to finish it. With a final tear, Elizabeth Braddock added the last three lines to the lyrics, smiling at them slightly. They were perfect. It was perfect. Just like him. Her Guardian Angel.
It don't hurt like it did
It hurts worse
Who do I kid?

She laid the pen down and picked up the quill pen, dipping it into the ink and shaking off the excess, signing the bottom.

Lyrics by Elizabeth B.

Dedicated to my Love, Warren Worthington III.

Sleep Sweetly My Love, and Dream of Me.