TITLE:- Dead Letters

RATING:- PG-13 for some language

SUMMARY:- Do you know what it's like to watch the woman you love die? To watch her life slip away? I do.

DISCLAIMER:- I own none of the characters in this story, however I do own the story. Its not like it's a challenge to guess who these people are but...meh I'll keep it this way. Also, forgive me for any parts of the episode I may have gotten wrong but try to look past it.

DEAD LETTERS

Do you know what it's like to see the woman you love die? To watch her life slip away? To see them covered in blood with huge with huge gashes all over their body?

I do.

The only person I have ever loved was stabbed seven times by a schizophrenic law student while I danced with a bunch of nurses. The only person I have ever loved lay bleeding to death while I ate fucking pizza and made fucking small talk with my fucking colleagues who never fucking liked me.

I can't even look at pizza now without being ill.

They found her and I wanted to be sick. But I stopped the churning in my stomach and went to help. I had to save her. To be her knight in shining armour. The hardest thing was not to held her hand or stroke her hair or kiss her. Actually, I lie, the hardest thing was to stop myself from getting on my knees and praying, 'I love you, don't leave me. I love you don't leave me.'

Maybe it would've saved her.

I feel guilty, but I blame Carter. I know I shouldn't, he didn't stab her, but he wouldn't give her the time of day and wouldn't spare two minutes of his precious time to look at the patient. I can't help it, but I resent the fact that he lived while she didn't. I wanted to smash his face in when I found out he'd been shooting up. He'd lived while she'd died and his way of being thankful was to drug himself.

Of course, I didn't. I acted like I couldn't give a shit.

We worked on her for an hour before they took her up to surgery. I had to work so hard during that hour. Not only on her, but to control my emotions. I literally bit my lip to stop myself from crying in frustration when they sawed open her ribs and began pumping her heart with their hands.

The sound of a drill still makes me shudder.

Elizabeth told us the surgery had gone well and she was alive. Possibly the happiest moment of my life ever. My baby was going to live and soon she'd go home with me and I'd treat her like the princess she was.

She was always my princess. On our one year anniversary I even bought her a tiara as a joke. She wore it all day. Well, at least until it...fell off.

I managed to escape from the ER to go up to the SICU to see her. 'Hey princess,' I said, and she opened her beautiful blue eyes and smiled at me. Of course, she couldn't talk 'cause of the tube in her throat but I didn't care. I kissed her forehead and her cheeks and the hand I held in mine. 'I love you,' I told her and in her eyes I could see her say, 'I love you too.'

Elizabeth came in then. She wanted to check on her, to make sure she was doing alright. I was going to make up an excuse as to why I was there, but she gave me a look and I told Elizabeth. Elizabeth just hugged me and kissed her forehead. I always liked Elizabeth; she's a really great person.

I guess bad things happen to good people.

I got dragged back downstairs. Weaver yelled at Mark and Luka, blaming everything on them, and then bit my head of when I politely asked her to drop it later on. Told me I was an insensitive, arrogant, selfish jerk.

Seems most people think that about me.

I went to Doc Magoo's with a bunch of other people from the hospital, and laughed as I pretended to listen to the stories about her that I'd heard before. My mind was elsewhere. More specifically, my mind was across the street and five floors up.

Elizabeth was wrong. My baby died a few hours after surgery. I managed to sneak out and get up to her room. I stayed with her for hours. Then I finished my shift as if I was just a little upset that she had died. Then I went back to the apartment we'd been sharing and I cried. I cried so hard I didn't think I'd ever stop. I hoped maybe I'd choke somehow and die and be with her. I put a pile of her clothes on our bed and breathed in her scent. We'd been together in that bed only that morning. Valentine's Day and all.

They day started so well.

If only we'd called in sick like I'd suggested. Then we could've spent all day in that bed and she'd still be here now.

The memorial at work was torture. I was surprised to see Romano crying. Not during the service, mind you, but afterwards when went to his office. He'd had a lot of respect for her, he told me. The best med-student he'd ever seen apparently. He'd been with her to the end. I was glad he and Elizabeth were there. She wouldn't have been too scared.

After she died, I went downhill. Became the arrogant, selfish jerk you all thought I was. Started drinking. I didn't sleep around with people the way you all thought though. I could never do that to her. I never fucked that paramedic. But I got fired.

Good thing I suppose.

I got jobs in other hospitals here and there, but I could never handle traumas where the victim had been stabbed.

So now you all know. Well, not everything, some things are meant to be secret and if I was to share them it certainly wouldn't be with you.

I'm sorry for the ways I may have treated you but I hope maybe now you can understand a little better. I loved my princess so much, I still do, and she loved me too. It's unlikely any of you have read this far, probably casting it off as some crap from that crap doctor you worked with a few years back. It's not like any of you really give a shit about how I feel and it's unlikely any of you want to understand me a little better. But now you know.

I would never ask any favours of you people, but this isn't for me. This is for her.

Never forget her.

Lucy Knight.

Yours sincerely,

Dr David Joseph Malucci, M.D.

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