A/N: Sorry, sorry, and sorry again! I have neglected this for so long! This has been typed up for awhile... SORRY! Don't kill me! Just read and review... maybe that will help... (I hope). My grampa is in the hospital right now and not doing very well so I've been caught up with that.

Disclaimer: I. Do. Not. Own. It. Do. You. Under. Stand?

Warnings: OOC (not a thing about language! I'm excited!)


Glancing over his shoulder once more, he crept silently to the door and knocked quickly. It opened immediately, and he was pulled inside to a flurry of kisses. He didn't respond to them, and they soon ceased.

"Patrick?" She was confused. Wearing her oversized jersey, barefooted, her expression would have been comical—had he been able to remember what that was. "What…?"

"I'm not going to get out of this." He spoke with no feeling whatsoever. He was a different man. He was ruining his life still, even though he was gone. It would never change. He realized that now.

"What are you talking about? Of course you will." She didn't sound like she believed herself.

"Teresa." He looked at her coldly. "You can't save everyone."

Her eyes filled with tears. "Patrick, what happened to you?"

"You can't save everyone," he repeated, "especially me. In fact, it would be better if you didn't even try."

She wrapped her arms around him, refusing to believe what he had said. "Don't do this to me, Patrick," she pleaded. "Please."

He calmly disentangled himself from her. "You're just making it harder for yourself."

The tears finally spilled over. "Why are you being so cruel?" she demanded. "What's wrong with you?"

"I have to go," he said, turning toward the door.

A hand stopped him. "No, Patrick," she said firmly. "You're staying here."

He glared at her. "I can't." He couldn't drag her into this. He wouldn't.

"You. Are. Staying. Here. Even if it's just for tonight." Her hand moved to his chest, feeling his heart beat faster under her touch. She smiled and looked up at him. His knew his eyes had lost their heartless glint, and had darkened with desire.

He was definitely staying with her. He was still a man, and he wanted—needed—her. He could tell that she knew she had won. But he didn't care anymore.

He realized that this was the last time they would see each other, and that it was his fault. But he couldn't go back now. He was in too deep. He was ruining both their lives as if it was an everyday occurrence. But he would have to care later, because she was pulling him to the bedroom now.

Before she could open the door, he stopped her. Putting both hands on her shoulders, he looked into her eyes and said, "I love you more than life itself. Do not try to save me. Promise me."

"Patrick—"

"Promise me."

"I promise," she said shakily.

He kissed her, tasting both their tears. He hadn't known he'd been crying. He'd thought he was incapable of it now.

Surprise, a soft, malicious voice in his head whispered. His voice.

No. It would never, ever change.