I don't blame anyone for getting annoyed with me for how strung out this is. I apologise. I didn't realise how much stuff I had in my brain. Please stick with it :)

Conversation in Italics belongs to channel 4.

This time the nausea wasn't letting up, the fresh breeze from the open window wasn't saving her. She doubled over and gave in; hoping that being sick would extricate the toxins building up in her body threatening slowly and painfully to shut her down. But it wasn't the case, she was beaten. She slumped down onto the floor and felt her body slip out of consciousness.

Tilly stroked a finger over the photo collage of Maddie sitting on the desk, hoping the gesture would stifle the grief left in her. She forced back the tears and took a deep breath. Unable to look up at Jen for fear of breaking down, she began to speak. Her voice soft, vulnerable, laced with heartache.

'The night of the crash I emailed you.'

Jen surprised by the revelation, stopped what she was doing and looked up at Tilly. The mention of the crash sent a wave of guilt through her, countered with disappointment at not ever receiving the mail Tilly mentioned.

'I'm sorry I didn't get it,' she replied.

Tilly still couldn't bring herself to look at Jen, knowing one look from those amber eyes would tip her over the edge. She was barely containing the surge of emotions fighting to escape as it was. She continued.

'I didn't send it.' She focused into the distance, as the pain of the memory resurfaced. 'It wasn't really for you,' a frown appeared across her face as she remembered the reason for not sending it. 'It was for the old you I guess. That Jen.' She paused, she looked down. A sign of defeat. 'She was the only other person who understood me.'

A second round of guilt trapped Jen up against the ropes, strangling her, rendering her speechless. Nothing she could say was going to change the past. She should have been there for Tilly. Whether Tilly had reached out to her or not, she should have been there. There was no other way of putting it. She should have been there for her.

'You told us to find an outlet for our grief,' Tilly continued. She looked down at the book she had been grasping tightly in her hands. She nervously laid it onto the desk in front of her, fighting the urge to keep it in her possession, knowing full well she would be exposing herself, her feelings, her soul. She nudged it towards Jen. Barely able to speak anymore she finished what she had come there to say. 'There it is.'

Jen looked at Tilly, she wanted to reach out and hold her. She knew it wasn't the time. She fought back the urge and watched Tilly as she moved closer to the memorial project Jen had made a start on.

Tilly stood looking at the half finished memorial. She had tried to push her feelings aside, hoping that the writings in her book would be enough to extract the grief she felt inside. But as she looked at the memorial, at her friends, she knew that she hadn't grieved fully. Her grief for them had been split down the middle with her grief for losing Jen.

She found her voice again. 'Every night I'd write to you. It was like you were here again.' As the image of the old Jen flashed into Tilly's head, a weak smile crossed her face.

Jen was taken aback by Tilly's words. She had picked up the book, not realising the extent of the contents. She turned to Tilly, shocked at the revelation of what lie in her hands. She wanted to say something, but she let Tilly finish.

'It got me through.' Tilly was struggling. She felt her voice break as she went to speak again. The lump in her throat wasn't letting up, the sting in her eyes threatening tears at any moment. She took a deep breath. 'I knew Maddie could never come back. But you, the real you, there was still a chance.'

Jen with her back to Tilly, trying the hide the heartache ripping her chest open, turned the pages of the book. Pages stained with tears. She stopped and read a few lines out loud. 'I call her phone, sometimes I think I hear the angels answering. I hope her party isn't over.' Jen couldn't go on; Tilly had written these to her, she had exposed her wounds, sharing her innermost thoughts and feelings, an attempt at channelling her grief. Jen was overwhelmed by how deeply moved she felt. She had never experienced anything like this. These weren't just letters, they were art, and they were so poetic. She was speechless, completely in awe of Tilly's writings. She turned and moved towards the redhead. 'Oh tilly, these are beautiful,' she stated, not wanting Tilly to feel regret for letting her see the book.

A single tear fell from Tilly's eye as she heard Jen's words, as she felt her move closer to her. It hadn't escaped unnoticed.

'Hey,' Jen gestured, bringing an arm up to comfort Tilly, noticing the tear fall down her cheek. Jen loved Tilly, she ached to tell her, but she knew that wouldn't fix things, she knew it wasn't the right time.

Tilly turned to glance briefly at Jen. Jen flashed her a reassuring smile. Tilly tried to reciprocate with a smile of her own as a thank you to Jen, her being there with her in that moment meant more than she would ever know.

Jen stirred, she felt her stomach cramp as she began to feel the pull back to reality.

'Jen love?'

She heard her name, the voice was familiar. She wanted the voice to go away; she wanted the pain to go away.

'Come on Jen, open your eyes.'

She felt a hand on her shoulder, gently rocking her. The pain still gripping and twisting her insides, she felt her ears tune out of the slumber she was in and into the world around her. She moaned as the rocking continued.

'That's it Jen, come on love. Open your eyes for me.'

Jen forced her eyelids open, blinking hard as the harshness of the bright light stung her eyes. She focused on the figure in front on her, it was Diane.

'Hey you, what happened in here? You have a party without me eh? Come on, let's get you up.'

She felt Diane's arms slip under hers and begin to pull her to her feet. She felt weak. She let Diane do most of the work. She wanted to argue, she had to get hold of Tilly, but as she tried to protest, she felt Diane lower her onto the edge of the bed. Diane lifted Jen's legs and swung them up and around, the motion causing Jen to lie down, the mattress fitting snug against her body. Once again she went to move, it was imperative that she got to Tilly, but the warmth she felt around her drew her in. Unable to fight, she succumbed, the white flag of surrender waving just long enough for the mattress to take advantage and envelop her holding her hostage for a little longer.

Jen woke with a start. This time her eyes weren't met with blinding lights. It was dark. As her eyes adjusted to the dark figures around the room, she began to recognise her surroundings. She was in her room, in her bed. She leaned over to her bedside lamp, feeling around for the switch, fumbling as she turned it on. As she moved, a slight twinge in her stomach caused her to wince. The pain felt hot, it lit a fuse within her. As it slowly burned away, it left a trail of memories from earlier in the day in its wake, purposely trying to torment her. Jen tensed as she waited for the fuse to reach its target. But the explosion never came. The evil tease of memories hadn't had the desired effect on her. They were meant to intimidate her, force her to surrender again. But they hadn't. Jen gently felt her body begin to relax. The slumber she had just awoken from had been delusion free. It had left her with a clear mind. Not empty, just clear. No cobwebs to obstruct her view, no knots creating an inescapable labyrinth, no doubts trying to bully her into submission. She knew what she was doing; she knew how to achieve what she wanted. She reached over to the side of her bed, the pain as she moved this time subsiding. She picked her work satchel off the floor and reached inside until she felt what she was looking forward. She grasped it tightly, the feel of it in her fingers stimulating her senses. She closed her eyes, letting her freshly awakened senses create an image in her head. Her clear mind meant the image was faultless, detailed, life like. The image she'd created in her head was Tilly. And the object she pulled out of her satchel was Tilly's book of letters.