A/N: I'm back, and I am sorry for my absence. The past few weeks have been an uphill battle and I still don't know whether I'm gaining or losing ground, or just treading in place. Therefore this chapter is a piece of cathartic writing that (un)happily coincided with the difficult task of writing a tag to the episode that changed it all. Yes, I'm speaking about 3x09 "The Crossing". THE scene from this episode (no, NOT the kiss) was actually what triggered this entire story.

Warnings: character death. (Obviously.)

Disclaimer: Don't own anything but my OCs; just using the rest for therapeutic reasons.

Black Hole

The visual perception failed to translate into meaningful information. There must be something wrong with her visual cortex, because there was no way her brother and one of her best friends had just been gunned down on this nondescript pavement in New York City.

At the sound of the first shot, Ben had grabbed her and shoved her into the shadows of the building next to them, pressing her to the wall and shielding her with his body. Now all she was able to hear was their combined harsh breathing and her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. Still restrained by her husband's strong grip she watched helplessly as John dragged himself towards Joss, gathering her into his arms the best he could, considering his own injuries.

The movement snapped the doctors into action. Covering the remaining two hundred yards was only a matter of seconds, but subconsciously both of them knew they might be too late to help.

Seconds later they knew they were.

*POI*POI*POI*POI*POI*

He had seen and heard unspeakable things both as a doctor and a soldier. He had cried over patients he couldn't save, he had punched walls and the occasional sparring partner over senseless deaths, he had yelled at people for their ignorance, arrogance or sheer stupidity.

This was worse.

He felt like paralysed, his mind and soul trying and failing to make sense of the scene before him. The pain and desperation that hung over the scene was so thick and palpable, it threatened to slip into his lungs with every breath he took and drown him on dry land.

His gaze wandered from the crumpled, shuddering form of his best friend to the dead woman in his arms, to the pale, pain-filled face of his wife. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments before both of them moved at the same time.

His wife took another half step forward and, getting down on one knee, gently wrapped her arms around her brother from behind. She didn't try to move him from his position but simply braced his arms that were still clinging tightly to Joss' dead body, holding on to both of them while resting her cheek against the side of her brother's head.

He dropped to his knees, mirroring her movements from the opposite side. A rational spark in his brain told him they needed to take action now, but he shoved it away. They needed these few precious seconds of undisturbed grief – all of them did.

He closed his eyes and just felt. Joss' still warm blood seeping into his trousers, tempting him to fool himself into thinking that she wasn't actually dead. John's hitching breath, his trembling body and the sheer pain that radiated from him. Hannah's love and fear-defying strength that was as immediate and intense as the crippling agony at a beloved life lost too soon.

In a fleeting moment of total clarity, he also realised that the one thing that he didn't feel was alone. In that same moment he prayed with all his might that John wouldn't, either.

*POI*POI*POI*POI*POI*

Don't go, Joss. Don't leave me here. Take me with you. Please don't leave me here! Dear God, please, NO!

A black hole burst open, consuming all life in its vicinity, and he was in the middle of it. Nothing but a black vortex sucking him in. Nothing but black.

Then a touch. Familiar, safe. Undemanding. Just there in the blackness, providing him with a point of reference.

A voice, warm and loving and pleading. "John, we need to get you out of here."

I can't.

Eyes, well-known and trusted, brown turned black in the darkness, waiting patiently for him to latch on. "I'll stay with her. She won't be alone."

Don't take me away from her.

Voices, discussing something in clipped, urgent tones.

"Take him to the clinic. I'll meet you there."

Strong arms help me support Joss' weight, resting alongside mine, reassuring me that it's okay to let go, that she's not gonna fall. I still don't want to, but I don't have the strength to put up a fight. One last kiss to rapidly cooling skin before my arms refuse to work anymore. But it's okay, 'cause he's got her safely in his arms.

"Help me get him into the car."

She can't be talking to me because I'm dead weight against her. I know I'm too heavy for her, but she's strong, holding me in place.

"Still got that med kit under the seat?"

A prick in my forearm and soon afterwards cool liquid slipping into my veins, spreading through my body which feels too cold and too hot at the same time.

"Step on it, he's bleeding out here!"

Just let me.

"I can't, John!"

It's a whisper but a desperate plea nonetheless, accompanied by hot tears running down my face as she rests her cheek against mine once more.

I search for her hand in the blackness and she finds it, holding on. Holding me. Always holding me, letting me know I'm not alone.

The car swerves, and–

PAIN

before the blackness swallows me whole.