Angel Dust

A/N: It has been brought to my attention that I'm not so good at warning you when there is a tearjerker on the way. So consider this your warning: You may wanna grab a tissue for this one. Enjoy!

During the drive from Manhatten to DC, Courtney had prepared a million things she wanted to say to her husband. But as she looked at his beaming face forever perserved against the backdrop of his tombstone, her mind went blank.

Gripping her blonde hair with both hands, she let out a frustrated groan. "God dammit!" she exclaimed, staring up into the heavens and then throwing her hands up in disgust. "There were so many things I wanted to say to you today. So many things I couldn't wait to get here and tell you."

Watching her closely, Dave watched as she rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips. "Just talk to me, Princess. Say anything."

"Right now," she let out a sardonic chuckle and shook her head. "All I can think about at this moment is how much I fucking hate you," she seethed.

If his heart had still been beating, Dave was fairly certain it would have stopped at her declaration. "Hate me? What the hell did I do this time?" he asked with a huff.

Courtney seemed to need no further provocation as she began to rant, pacing back and forth over his grave. "I hate the way you used to talk with your mouth full. What was so goddamn important that you couldn't wait until you swallowed first, huh? Nothing, that's what. Nothing you ever said was so fucking important that it couldn't wait ten seconds for you to finish chewing."

Sinking back into his chair, Dave crossed his arms. A small smirk played on his lips. This was his Princess - the woman who couldn't find loving words to save her life, but had no problem telling him what a bastard he was. Strangely, he found her little outburst endearing and nostalgic.

"And wipe that fucking grin off your face, David," she spat, staring up into the heavens. "I know you're watching me right now, grinning like a damn fool because you think I'm so cute when I'm angry. I'm not trying to be cute, motherfucker," she insisted, nearly stomping her foot.

"I hate that smile, the one that says you know so much more than me because you lived so much longer. Well guess what?" She moved toward his headstone and bent to look into the face of the man who could infuriate her like none other. "That never made you smarter. It just made you fucking old."

Standing, he grimaced. "That was low," he warned, his voice soft as he continued to watch her. Though he knew she couldn't hear his words, he was fairly certain it didn't matter. She was hitting below the belt now, and he wasn't about to let it slide, even if it was only for his own mental well-being.

Gathering steam, Courtney turned her back from the grave and continued talking. "I hate the way you used to call me in the middle of the afternoon, interrupt important meetings, just to tell me how many new ways you were gonna fuck me when I got home."

This time, Dave nearly laughed. "Oh, because you were complaining so much back then," he taunted. He stepped to her image and ran a hand down her spine, noticing that her body visibly shivered at the echo of contact.

Shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders, she stepped away from him and Dave withdrew his hand. "I hate you for waking me up in the middle of the night to make a Pringle run when you were too high to leave the house and you got the motherfucking munchies."

With his arms crossed over his chest, Dave began to grow tired of the "I Hate You" game. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to visit his grave for the first time in an effort to tell him what a no-good piece of shit he had been. She was supposed to be the one person who saw beyond all of that, who loved him even though he had fucked up.

"I hate you for all of those nights that I found you on the bathroom floor. For all of the times you growled at me for shit that wasn't my fucking fault. For all the nights I sat on the bed and watched your coke rages, while you broke all of our expensive shit, and then promised me you'd replace it," she accused.

"What do you want from me?" he asked loudly. "After all the shit I bought you, all the trips and the parties and the clothes? You're gonna throw a broken lamp in my face?" Clenching his fists at his sides, he bit the inside of his lip to keep from growling. "It wasn't even a cute lamp!"

Taking a moment to pause and think of more she hated, Courtney kicked the tombstone, directly in the center of Dave's picture. "But do you know what I hate most about you? You fucking left me. You're not here." Tears began to roll down her cheeks and her voice broke as she sank to the ground. "You died, and I fucking hate you for that."

The switch in her demeanor hit him so hard that Dave took a step back. He was speechless as he watched her lean against his headstone and hug her knees, rocking back and forth gently as the sun set behind her. "Fuck," he sighed, drinking in the sight of her broken beauty.

Whether it was her upbrining, or just some genetic character trait, Courtney had never been one for showing emotion. Especially not in public. But for the first time in her life, she didn't care who saw her tears. She didn't care if the whole world knew that she was weeping openly. Sitting this close to his resting place, feeling his presence so strongly, she felt safe. Secure enough to share her heart as she had never been able to do when he was alive.

"Dave," she finally whispered, when her gasping sobs had faded into a steady stream of tears. "I miss you so much, baby."

Admitting it to Randy was one thing. Telling her family that she missed her husband was okay. But confessing it to Dave was something else all together. It was as if saying the words to him made his absence real.

As Dave stood watching her, he felt as though his heart was breaking. She was crumbling in a way that he had never seen before. Sure, he had watched her cry for him on countless occasions over the course of the last year and a half, but she had never surrendered to it. She had always fought to maintain some degree of control and composure. And seeing his wife fall to pieces, knowing there was absolutely nothing he could do to make it better, nearly killed him all over again.

"You know I love you, right?" she asked, her naturally seductive voice more gravelly than usual through the filter of her tear-strained throat. "I mean, I wasn't lying before - there were things I hated. But there was never a moment that I ever thought about walking away from you, Lover. I never gave up on us, even when everyone else said that I probably should. They said that you would never change, never get better, that I was enabling your problems."

Dave smiled as she rolled her eyes and hugged her knees tighter to her chest. "Maybe I did enable you. Maybe I didn't do things the right way. Hell, maybe I'm the one responsible for allowing you to die." He put a hand out to touch her knee. "But I want you to know that I wouldn't change a thing about the life we had together."

She sat in silence, as Dave stood at her side, for a long moment. Each time she opened her mouth to speak, he waited with rabid anticipation for her next words. But when she said nothing, he found himself content to just be with her one more time.

Finally, her words permeated the air once more. "It's been almost eighteen months, Dave. I should move on." Sighing, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Randy's a good man - I know why you chose him to look after me." Shrugging, she leaned her head back against the stone and closed her eyes. "There are other people who have caught my eye, too," she admitted. Nitro flitted through her mind, and she could almost swear that the air got a little colder. "Cute, motherfucker," she opened her eyes to stare into the sky once more.

Dave wasn't sure he had anything to do with the shift in temperature, but he knew that he didn't want any thoughts of that kid, or even Orton, disturbing this moment. He had never shared her when he was alive, and he wasn't ready to start now. Not yet. Not when she had set this time aside just for him.

"I'm going to have to move on eventually," she whispered. "But I'm not ready to yet." Another surprising round of tears shook her body as Courtney buried her face in her knees. "I'm not ready to let you go yet."

He had purposely kept his contact with her to a minimum over the last year and a half. Knowing full well that he would never stop touching her if he allowed himself more than a moment here and there, he had limited his comfort to a simple touch or whispered word. But tonight, it wasn't enough. For either of them.

Hoisting himself onto the platform, he stepped into the image of his wife, cradling her own small body against his grave. Though he wasn't actually there, he could feel her as though he was. Lowering himself to the ground behind her, he wrapped his arms around Courtney and pulled her tightly against his chest.

Courtney shuddered, a sweeping feeling that started at her shoulders and flowed throughout her body. She couldn't see him, or hear his voice, but she knew. Without a doubt, she knew that Dave was holding her. And he wasn't letting go, either.