Disclaimer - All recognisable characters belong to their original owners. I do not make a profit from writing this; I simply do it for my own amusement. No copyright infringement intended.

PROMPT: You have no idea who am I am, do you? Continuation of Outdoor Activities

Mentions of death and thoughts of dying.

Rose stared at Emmett. Dear God. Facially he looked the same – cornflower blue eyes that could see into the depth of her soul, full pouty that lips that tasted like the sweetest pleasure, and facial scruff that she loved to feel against her skin. But his body. His body was marred with dark swirling ink. Where once, only tanned skin had sat, there was not an inch of him from the neck down that wasn't covered in tattoos. It was strange seeing him. Knowing that it was Emmett but being so utterly confused by his presence. His face was that same face that had left her, the same face that she had seen on the mortuary slab, pale and lifeless. Yet, here he was. Alive and well, it would seem.

She felt sick, sick to her stomach. Bile churned uneasily in her gut as her mouth became too dry. Her lungs burned, and her vision blurred. It was only then did Rose realise she had stopped breathing. The sight of him had rendered her breathless.

"Emmett?" His name was like a whisper, a prayer on the wind to whichever cruel deity was playing this trick on her. No. No. Grieving Emmett had nearly broken her in two. She didn't eat for a week. Max was the only thing that kept her going; he was the reason Rose found the strength to get out of bed. Cai had said she was selfish, Max had lost half of his world whilst she just lay there, unmoving. His words were harsh but correct. So, she got her sweet ass out of bed and pushed onwards. Some days it was so fucking hard that Rose was positive she wasn't going to cope. That thanks to all the pain and heartbreak, her heart would give up. She hadn't wished for death. No. But the idea of falling asleep and never waking up had been appealing, a constant thought in the back of her mind, a way to escape the sheer agony that seemed to live inside her. It would reunite her Emmett, and that was a sweet thought.

Her therapist said it was normal. That it was okay to feel fine one minute and then so fragile the next that Rose was sure she'd shatter into a million pieces. It was part of the grieving process. That's what she'd come here, to the waterfall. To grieve. To come to terms with the fact that just because Emmett was dead didn't mean she had to stop living.

But Emmett was here. In front of her. Holding onto their dog resembling something akin to a Greek god. His eyes weren't right, though. The light blue orbs that used to hold so much love for her were full of nothing but friendly warmth. Not the all-encompassing passion he had once had.

"Sorry, Angel. I'm not Emmett; my name's Kevin."

Confusion. So much confusion ran through Rose's mind because this was Emmett. Her Emmett. But he'd died. She'd identified the body, stood next to his coffin at the funeral, spoke to his urn every day. She grieved for him – she was still grieving. So, how the hell was he here, in the one spot they'd planned to come to, holding her untouchable dog, looking at her like he had no idea who she was?

I hope you liked this one. Thanks for reading.