It's freezing out!"

"Oh, come on, baby, live a little!"

She shrieked as his body came up from behind her, lifting her up and holding her like a damsel in distress. "We've only got a couple more hours together before I'm gone, let's make the most of it."

"You know I always do ..."

____

"We've only got a couple more hours left together before I'm gone ..."

She blinked back tears, arms crossed at her chest with the sleeves tugged over her hands, numb from any coldness she may have felt. If she had only known how true those words were, how permanent, how promising, maybe she could have saved him. Maybe she could have done something -

"Honey, you're going to catch your death a cold out here."

She turned, looking at the gentle and tired face of his mother, she looking years beyond her age and more exhausted than she could even imagine. The mere thought of sleep made her sick to her stomach. "I'm not cold."

"Mila, please," his mother begged softly, her hand reaching forward and touching her hand gently, "please, don't shut me out."

"I'm not," she murmured, turning slowly, not wanting to meet the sad woman's gaze again, she whispered, "please, just leave me alone."

She heard the silence between the two of them, eyes sliding shut slowly and clenching as she heard the woman finally move from behind her, shutting the door gently. Finally.

She had been out there for more than two hours, two hours in LA's winter had been completely different than that of Maryland's. It was mid-January and it was nearing nineteen degrees farenheit. Nineteen degrees. But, she felt nothing. Felt nothing but the raw pain that jolted through her body every time her heart beat, every time she took a breath; for every beat and every breath, he couldn't do either. He couldn't stand behind her just as her mother did and argue with her until his face was blue about her catching pneumonia.

They would never argue again.

An angry tear fell slowly down her wind-bitten cheek, she staring at into the open road that lead to the main drag of his hometown; the road that now seemed to be the road to hell. She didn't know how she'd make it when she did have to go home, how she'd even be able to ride on the road that took the one person in her life that had made her happier than she had been.

And in a matter of seconds, her happiness had been taken away.

____

"You'll thank me later for making you stay with my parents while I'm gone," he said softly, the slow smile spreading across his face as he hand her hands in his, they standing on the porch as his father threw the two bags that he had packed for his trip to Tennessee in the trunk. "I know how much you hate being alone -"

"Then take me with you," she said softly, "let me meet Justin -"

"You know I want you to, baby," he smiled warmly, hand reaching up and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, "but there's thing's he and I have to work through first. There are things that you don't want to hear, nor should you. It was a stupid thing that happened, and I promise you, as quick as I can, I'll be back. This is just something I have to do alone."

"I understand," she said softly. "Tell him 'hello' for me?"

He nodded. "You know I will."

"Joshua, you better get going; forecast called for a heavy storm coming through within the next hour or so."

He turned his head, nodding at his dad. "I'm getting there, dad." Turning back to face her, he smiled warmly, holding her face between his hands. "I love you, La. When I come back, we'll tell them, okay? We'll tell them you made an honest man outta me."

She laughed, he pressing his warm mouth to hers before pulling away and shaking the cold from his skin. "And how I was the right person for the job?"

Grinning, he nodded. "As always." He turned on his heel, giving her one last quick kiss to the mouth and a wink as he crossed the already snow-covered driveway to his Mercedes. "I'll see you in a week."

She nodded, watching him open the door as the sudden thought crossed her mind, she hadn't told him. "Josh?"

He looked up, bright smile on his face, "yeah?"

"I love you."

Without missing a beat, he put his hand to his heart. "Forever and ever, babe."

She lifted her hand in a weak wave as he pulled out of the driveway, watching him slowly roll down the slick and already icy road. "Be careful," she murmured softly, hand resting to her lips as she blew a kiss into his direction. "Be careful."

____

She bit her lip as she stared at the spot she had last been able to see his car before it disappeared onto the main road, onto the road that would be the last place he would take his breath.

A sob escaped her throat as she clenched her eyes shut, unwilling to let her mind follow the road, to the spot where his car had been found. Putting a hand to her mouth to mask her cries, she turned, entering the warm house, ignoring the family that looked at her and taking the steps two, three at a time, slamming the door shut. It was then that she let the tears fall, she sinking to her knees as her head hung low, rocking back and forth as she would if soothing a child.

If I couldn't feel your touch
And no longer were you with me
I'd be wishing you were here
To be everything I'd be looking for

She planted her hands on either side of her, keeping her body steady. Her right hand gripped something softer than the deep blue carpet of his old bedroom, it feeling of cotton and of him. Opening her eyes, she gripped the fabric of the sweatshirt between her hands, pulling it to her face and inhaling his scent deeply, tears falling and turning the light gray into a dark shade, matching the clouds outside and the color of her heart.

____

"I don't know how you could wear that old thing," he chuckled as she dropped dramatically onto the couch next to him, nestling her body between his outstretched arm to be wrapped around her shoulders and the side of his body. "I think my mom had tried to throw it away so many times when I was in high school."

"And unlike most people, you're still the same size as you were and still fit perfectly into the damn thing."

He chuckled. "I do, but, for some reason, I can never wear it because it's been on another person's body."

She looked down at his old high school sweatshirt, smiling widely. "Ah, it looks better on me, anyway."

"Anything of mine looks better on you. I look better on you."

She rolled her eyes, burying her face into his chest and inhaling. "Why do you always smell good? Even if you showered in the morning, you still smell like soap ten hours later." She smiled when she felt the vibrations of his laugh against her skin, kissing the spot she had been nuzzling before looking up at him. "I'm serious. Are you a living bar of soap?"

"Ah, yeah, I forgot to tell you, my name is really Lever 2000. Wanna know what the 2000 stands for?"

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Knowing you, something dirty."

"Not as dirty as my Lever," he grinned, wiggling his eyebrows as she pushed him, laughing. "Hey, you never complain about my Lever!"

"And you don't complain about my pulley, either."

"Touche." He grinned, pulling her up against him again and kissing her temple. "And I will never complain about you wearing my sweatshirt, either. It looks good on both of us ... when I get the opportunity to wear it!"

____

"Mila?"

Long gone were the tears she had cried, she now sitting up against the foot of his bed, sweatshirt on and collar hiked up to her nose, she wanting only him invading her senses. The two of them were in the middle of a marriage proposal when his father suddenly walked through the door, the daydream shattering.

"Roy?"

"There's someone here to see you," he said softly, she getting up and shaking her head as she approached the door.

"I really don't want to see people right now, I -"

"Mila."

She froze, taking in the face that she had never seen, but had heard the voice numerous times on the phone before the so-called 'blow-out' that had occurred. "Justin?"

Roy stepped away, leaving the two younger adults in company with each other. "I'll be downstairs."

"He was coming to Tennessee," he said softly, tears burning his eyes as she nodded, looking away and to the floor, not wanting to catch his questioning look. "He was coming to see me?"

"He wanted to apologize to you," she said softly, "wanted to tell you he was wrong and that he never should have judged her the way he had."

"God, Mila, I'm so sorry," he choked out, voice cracking with emotion, "if I had known -"

"I'm sorry, too," she frowned, tears falling down once more as she watched him press the heels of his hands into his eyes, forcing the tears to stop. "I'm sorry -"

"God, I never wanted an apology," he said, hands still digging into his eyes, "I always took what he said to heart; I always looked into what he said. And you know what? He was right. He was fucking right. She tried to drain my bank account, tried to take me for all I was worth and yet he was taken away instead ..."

She let out another sob, hand going to her mouth as Justin's strong arms wrapped around her, holding to her tightly as she cried, his cries masked into her shoulder, hers raw and out for the world to hear.

____

"I brought this along," Justin said as the two of them sat on the floor of JC's old bedroom, he rummaging through his bag and holding up an old VHS tape. "It's one of our first shows ever. I thought that maybe you'd want to see it; that you'd want to see why I looked up to him so much ..."

She nodded, watching as he walked on his knees to the small tv that rested on his dresser, it a dual player with VHS and DVD players built-in. When the tape began to play and the black screen appeared, she spoke. "He proposed to me on Christmas Eve."

Justin froze from sitting back down, his eyes studying hers. "H-he did?"

She nodded, toying with the solitaire diamond on her right hand and lifting it up to show him. "Neither of us wanted to tell family and friends yet; we wanted to enjoy it for a while before we shared the news. We were going to tell his parents the day he came back. But now, I don't see the point."

"I'm sure they'd still want to know," he said softly, "they'd want to know that their son finally found the happiness that they were worried he'd never get. That you were the one that made him feel that way."

She didn't respond, instead her eyes focusing on the lanky, dark-haired boy with bright blue eyes who danced and sang on the screen. "I wish life were like a VHS tape," she murmured, "just, hit a button and you could rewind to specific parts in life; fast forward and pause - like 'Click'."

"You can't take advantage of that."

"I know," she said softly. "Like love."

"Forever and ever, babe."

____

"Can we just stay like this forever?" She lifted her head so that her chin was resting on his chest, brown eyes meeting blue.

"I'd like to," he said softly, one hand still holding the small of her back while the other caressed her cheek. "If you'll let me anyway."

"Let you hold me? I think so," she smiled, leaning her head back up against his chest as he held tightly to her, the two of them swaying to the imaginary music playing inside both of their heads. "You're not gonna let go of me are you? Like you did the others?"

He frowned, she bringing up his past relationships that he had sworn to her were nothing compared to what they had. "I'm going to hold you with no intentions on ever letting go," he promised, "not as long as you let me hold you."

"Good. Because, truth be told, I think I'm falling in love with you."

"Truth be told," he said softly, tipping her face up to look at him, "I am in love with you."

____

"Life is very short and there's no time for fussing and fighting my friends ..."

"God, how annoying was I?"

She smiled weakly, eyes unable to focus on the tape anymore. "I'm going to go take a shower," she said softly as Justin got up, looking at her. "I'm all right," she said, he looking concerned, "I just ... I'm cold. I need a hot shower."

He nodded. "If you need me -"

"I remember how to shower, Justin."

"No, that's not what I mean," he said softly, "if you need me -"

She held up her hand, quieting him as she nodded. "I know."

"Okay." He sat down again, sighing deeply as JC graced the screen again, smile wide, face happy. "Okay."

I don't wanna forget the present is a gift
And I don't wanna take for granted
The time you may have here with me
'Cause Lord only knows another day
Is not really guaranteed

She twisted the ring on her right finger, slowly slipping it off and setting it on the counter of the bathroom, the bile rising slowly in her throat as she threw herself over the toilet, throwing up nothing but the water Karen had forced her to drink and whatever had settled at the bottom of her stomach. Her throat burned from the acidity, eyes clenched shut as she got up, turning the water on to mask her tears. When had God decided that her life was too good? When had he planned this? Was this some sort of a joke? Because if it was, she wanted out of it; she wanted her life back, she wanted the love of her life back. Regardless of the consequences, she wanted the man she had fallen in love with to be standing in front of her, holding her, telling her everything was all right, that it was just a dream.

But he wasn't. Nor would he be.

____

"I'm looking for a Roy or Karen Chasez?"

Mila licked her lips, the butterflies fluttering in her stomach as she took in the state trooper in front of her. This could not be good. A man in a cloak holding a Bible was also not a good sign. "I'm sorry, but they have gone out for the evening. Is there anything I can help you with? I'm their son's fiancee."

"Are you Mila Whitney?"

She felt her stomach drop, not knowing how they knew her name. "I-I am, why? Is Tyler okay? Heather?"

"Miss Whitney, we were called to the scene of a very serious fatal accident earlier this evening. It involved a black Dodge Ram pick-up truck and a silver Mercedes coupe. Among the wreckage, we found a cell phone with ICE contacts. Are you aware of what those are?"

"In Case of Emergency, yes ..." She gripped her hands, wringing them tightly. "Please, is he - is Josh okay? Did he tell you to come here?"

"Miss Whitney," the trooper said softly, his voice stern, we had to extract the bodies from their vehicles. There were no survivors."

She felt her knees give out, the trooper stepping quickly forward and grabbing her. "I'm sorry, but you have to be mistaking him for someone else; he's on his way to Tennessee to see his bandmate and -"

"Mr. Chasez lost control of his vehicle and it went into oncoming traffic. He sustained major trauma to his head and chest and succombed immediately to his injuries. The ME pronounced him deceased at 7:45 this evening."

Just twenty minutes after he had left. Twenty minutes. "But it's nearing midnight now," she said softly, "why didn't you come earlier? Why couldn't you have saved him?!"

"Miss Whitney, please," the trooper said, holding tightly to her as she fought against him, "there was nothing we could do. By the time paramedics got to him, all blood flow had stopped. All of his vital organs had shut down and he was brain dead."

She cried out in despair, collapsing to the floor and bringing the trooper with her, burying her face in her hands as she cried. "No, this can't be happening; no, no, no ..."

____

She leaned up against the wall of the shower, tears falling down her face. Maybe if she had stalled him for a little longer. Even just another minute or two. It didn't have to be him, it could have been someone else -

No, she'd never wish what she felt on someone else. She could never. She didn't even wish it upon herself. All she wished was to have him back.

She lifted up the wash cloth, grabbing the soap and lathering it into the fabric, stopping when her smell went into overdrive. What was that scent? She looked down, turning the soap over and crying out. Lever 2000.

How many really know what love is?
No, you never will
Do you know until you lose it
That it's everything that we are looking for

She scrubbed furiously, in the mindset that if she scrubbed hard enough, the smell would be permanently imprinted, that she'd always carry his smell. She was unaware of her hysterics until she heard a frantic knock on the door.

"Mila? Mila, honey, open the door."

"I'm fine," she cried, still scrubbing her arms roughly, seeing the redness of raw skin already appearing. "I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine ..."

The door opened quickly, it falling shut just as it had opened, footsteps crossing the tiled floor and pulling open the curtain, Karen standing with a towel in her hand. "Oh, honey ..." Tears were falling down her face as she peeled the wash cloth out of her grip, letting the showerhead wash the remnants of soap off of the young woman's body before shutting the water off and wrapping the towel around her body. Sobs were still wretching out of her chest as Karen sat her down on the tub's ledge, holding her tightly. "It'll be okay," she said softly, tears falling down her face, "somehow, we'll be okay ..."

"No," she said, gripping onto Karen's shirt as she shook her head frantically, "no, it won't! I was supposed to marry him! He wanted me to marry him and I can't even do that now!"

"He asked you to marry him?"

She nodded against her. "The ring on the counter, the ring I've been wearing was my engagement ring. We just didn't know when to tell you and when we finally decided, he was leaving. We were going to tell you today ..."

"Oh, honey," Karen held to her tighter, tears falling faster not only for her son, but for the future she had always wanted him to have now taken away.

____

"Are you sure you'll be okay?"

She turned back onto her back, looking at Justin who stood in the doorway, arms crossed across his broad chest. "No," she said quietly, "it's only been three days, but I need to be alone. He's getting buried tomorrow. I need to be alone to process my thoughts, process this."

"I'll be down the hall if you need me," he responded back quietly, looking unsure of whether or not to leave her, "Mila -"

"Just go, Justin," she said softly, rolling back over to her side, staring at the wall closest to the bed. Tears immediately pricked in her eyes when she saw the photo of them taken the Christmas before the accident in front of his parent's tree; their second Christmas. "I just want to be alone."

____

"Merry Christmas, baby, sure did treat me nice ..."

She grinned, looking up and over towards him as he came down the stairs, holding Christmas present for her and his family. "You're in a good mood today."

"I am," he smiled, continuing to sing, "feel mighty fine, got music on my radio ..." He set the presents down just so, kneeling down to his knees and pressing a kiss to the side of her head. "You smell like hot cider."

"That's 'cause I've been drinking it all day with your siblings," she chuckled, "egg nog is not my thing."

"I think egg nog is my parents' blood stream this time of year," he smiled, sitting back and looking at the gifts, "so which one is mine?"

She glanced around, spotting the red foil wrapping paper near the back of the tree. "That one."

"Can I open it?"

"Is it Christmas yet?"

"Well, no," he grinned, "but I wanna open it and I want you to open yours, too."

"We've only got like, twelve hours before everyone wakes up to open them, Josh; you can wait that long."

"But you can't."

She grinned, shaking her head. "Well, no ..."

"Then, come on," he grinned, nudging her shoulder with his, "open mine." He leaned forward, picking up her gift with a smile on his face. "You better love it, because it took me hours to get it just right."

She accepted the gift, slowly peeling back the wrapper and smiling when she saw a readable disc, his sloppy scrawl scribbled on the front. "Happy Second Christmas together, Mila. 12-25-08. I love you, forever and ever babe." She grinned, still confused and she took the cd out, it hooked on her finger. "What exactly is this?"

He got up, taking the cd from her and put it in the stereo, watching as her eyes widened in the realization of what it was. "See, that day when you were going through my things and found the raw demos of every single song you loved, complaining that the quality was horrible, I figured ... why not make you a cd with all of them on it? With just me, my piano or guitar, for you? A little better quality, a little less radio sound ... just me."

Her eyes welled up as a broad smile formed on her face, she getting up and approaching him, arms sliding around his sides to his back as she held him tightly. "I already love it."

"I knew you would," he grinned, "There are twenty songs on here. Each and every one is a brand new recording, so you've never heard it before."

"You're amazing," she said softly, standing up on her tiptoes to kiss him gently, his mouth molding to hers, "thank you."

"If you think that's it, you're sadly mistaken," he grinned, taking her hand and sitting her down on the couch, he turning to grab another box, wrapped in matching red foil as his gift. "Seems like we both had the same wrap in mind," he chuckled, placing the box in her hands. "This is my favorite though."

She unwrapped it, eyes on him in curiosity as he urged her to continue, finally looking down when her fingers brushed against velvet, eyebrows raising. "Josh, I thought we said nothing expensive this year?"

"Do you think I actually listen to you when it comes to things like that?"

She laughed, shaking her head, "well, no ... but now I feel horrible because my gift isn't anything spectacular."

"I'm sure I'll love it," he smiled, patting her hand, "now, open it."

"Antsy," she laughed, clicking her tongue as she popped open the box. "Oh, my God, it's beautiful."

"Like you," he smiled, watching as she lifted the necklace out of the box, touching the pendant gingerly with her fingertips. "It's an infinity sign, forever. I had the guy inscribe our names on it, see? Mila and Joshua."

"I see," she said softly, looking up and blinking back happy tears, "I love it, thank you." She reached forward, cupping his cheek and pressing her lips to his he smiling against her lips as she repeatedly kissed him, not ever getting enough. "You didn't have to."

"But I wanted to," he replied, using his finger to motion for her to turn around, he clasping the necklace and smiling happily at how it fell perfectly against her collarbone. "Now, what'd you get me?"

She grinned, getting back down by the tree as he followed, lifting up the medium-sized box, placing it in his lap. "Now, it's not extravagant like yours, but this took me forever to do ..."

"Money means nothing, Mila," he smiled, unwrapping it quickly and lifting the top off of the box, a grin on his face. "You made a scrapbook?"

"Yeah, Miss Impatient made a scrapbook," she chuckled. "Read it."

"Josh and Mila, Forever and Ever, Babe." He grinned, opening it up and reading the words as she watched the grin widen with every page that he turned and every word he read. "I love it, babe, really."

"Hey, lovebirds, stand up so I can take a picture of you guys by the tree."

"Argh, come on, dad," he laughed, getting up and pulling Mila with him, his dad laughing. "You take way too many photos."

"There are never enough photos of you guys, and you, Mila. You make the photo a thousand times better."

She smiled, looking up at JC as he nodded, agreeing with his dad. "Thank you."

"You do," he smiled, placing a kiss to her forehead, unaware the photo had been taken. He wrapped his arms around her, she tucking her head beneath his as they posed, Roy snapping another photo. "Dad, I swear you're like family paparazzi."

"Then you should be used to it by now," he grinned, watching as his dad left, confused at the look on her face. "What?"

"You ... you recorded this?"

He silenced, listening to the words as he nodded slowly, reaching up and swiping the tears that were falling down her face. "I did."

"I think I love you."

He chuckled, still holding her face as she gripped his forearms, closing her eyes and listening to him sing, his voice rising above the words, "I'd like to think you loved me before this."

"More now."

He grinned, releasing her face as she opened her eyes, confused. "Dance with me."

"Here?"

"Here," he said, stepping into her and taking her hands, slowly swaying to the music and singing softly into her ear.

Sometimes I just hold you
Too caught up in me to see
I'm holding a fortune
That Heaven has given to me
I'll try to show you
In each and every way I can
Now and forever
I will be your man

____

"You okay?"She looked down at the hand that grasped hers tightly, for a moment believing it was him holding her hand, but it wasn't. The hands were rough, barely fitting in the crevices of her tiny fingers like JC's had. JC's hands were smooth, comforting. All she wanted was that comfort, the smoothness of his fingers sliding between the empty spaces of hers, grasping tightly, not ever letting go; holding onto her like he promised he would.

Her eyes dragged up to Justin's as they stood in the entrance of the funeral home, he adorned in a pair of black slacks and a white button-up, red tie being grabbed at every few moments as they greeted mourners. She had not understood that: why would the family greet people to mourn? It wasn't like a welcoming party; though they always said funerals were now considered a celebration of life, that black was not necessary - but black was the only thing she saw. And red. Red like the color of blood, like her anger that had been boiling in the pit of her stomach, in the midst of her heart. She was black, red and numb.

"Just tired," she said softly, licking her lips as tucking her hair behind her ear, eyes slowly going back to the ground. "Tired of everything. He's been gone for barely five days and I'm already tired of missing him. I don't want to miss him, I want him here ... with me."

He squeezed her hand, words not found with her sudden admission. He had no words, had no feeling either, how could he comfort someone when he couldn't even find it in himself to forgive himself? If he hadn't of acted like he was sixteen all over again, one of his closest friends would not have taken it upon himself to fix things and they'd all be laughing about the pettiness that Justin tended to take on years from now.

But now, all he felt was guilt and sorrow. He lost the first man he had ever looked up to, his first person he considered nearly a hero.

Mila looked up from playing with the hem of her black sweater, dropping it back to it's place as people she recognized came slowly up the stairs, looking nearly as bad as she did. "I know I know them," she said softly, Justin leaning into her to hear, "but I can't remember their names ..."

Smiling weakly at her forgetfulness, he lifted his hand to point out the faces he hadn't seen in months, though had planned to in better circumstances. "The man with the goatee, dressed in black and has the blue tie, is Joey. That's his wife Kelly and their daughter Briahna. The one in the suit jacket is Lance. Chris is coming up behind him, he's the one with the gray slacks and red button-up."

She nodded, leaning into him. But there was a body that he had not mentioned, a man who seemed to stray slightly further back than the rest. She knew that he wasn't part of the group, it had consisted of the three men Justin had pointed out, excluding the two given. He was dark-haired and eyed, and to her, looked worse off than the rest. Suddenly, she realized who he was.

Pulling her hand away from Justin's as she slowly walked past the approaching men, she stepped gingerly down the stairs in her heels and stopped in front of him, he looking uncomfortable, out of place and very distressed. "You're Tony," she said softly, his eyes lifting to meet hers, realization washing through his eyes as he nodded slowly, "One of JC's closest friends ..."

"I wouldn't know about that anymore," he mumbled, tears threatening to spill from his eyes, "the past is something that would tell you otherwise."

She stood there, silent as he looked anywhere but at her, she reaching forward and wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. An exhausted sob escaped his mouth almost quietly, he resting his chin on her shoulder and gripped her tightly. She remembered JC telling her about their falling out a year before she had met him. He had been doing the small club tour and Tony had agreed to be the main opener. Since JC had been having troubles with his record label at the time with the album promotion and pay at the time, it was only a given that Tony had, too. Somehow, in the midst of a disagreement, Tony had spilled it out that he thought JC was the one squandering what was rightfully his and JC, who had always been humble and honest to his long-time friend, went to the label, cut him from the act and never spoke to him again. He had felt horrible for doing it, but if someone he had known and trusted for nearly fourteen years of his life suddenly didn't trust him, why go on with a friendship that was doomed?

"I missed him," Tony said softly, voice murmuring against the fabric of her sweater, "I miss him."

She bit her lip, fighting the tears as she nodded. "I miss him, too." She felt his body shake with tears, she giving in and letting her own fall, taking comfort in knowing that she had met the one person JC had spoken so highly of but had lacked in his life, he reappearing to be there at the end of it.

"Tone, Mila," Justin said softly, his hand touching Mila's back gently as the two parted, "we're going to go in before the friends and extended family come. So we can say goodbye ourselves before we go to the cemetary."

She felt the tears burn in her eyes, she the only one who refused to take the chance to go into the viewing parlor and take in the heavily made-up man that once was her fiance and the love of her life. She had to face him now. "Okay," she whispered, Justin reaching down and gripping her hand as Tony walked slowly behind them, head hung low as they walked into the very cold funeral home.

But then, just as they approached the archway to enter the parlor where he was being viewed, she froze. Her eyes settled on the man lying there, eyes gently closed, lips looking chalky and closed completely. That wasn't JC. That wasn't her Josh. He looked like he was sleeping, but that wasn't how he slept: his mouth was always slightly parted, arm tucked underneath his head, other loosely gripping the fabric of the comforter or her hand, depending on how sleep found him. This wasn't JC - they had been horribly wrong, it couldn't be him. Maybe he was off in some witness protection program, maybe he just didn't want to be found, maybe -

"Mila ..."

She looked at Justin, her eyes going behind him to Roy and Karen and then to JC's siblings, who were leaning into each other, Tyler's arm around Heather's shoulder, she holding a tissue to her face. This wasn't what was supposed to happen, this couldn't be happening. "I can't go in there," she murmured, pulling her hand away from Justin's quickly as if it had burned her, he looking at her oddly, "that's not him. That's not my fiance. That's not Josh!"

The murmuring of those in the parlor silenced, they all turning to look at the woman who had had the outburst. Suddenly, it felt like death in there.

"I can't be here, I have to go ... I need to go home. I have to find him. That's not who he is!"

"Mila," Karen stepped forward, closer to Justin as her hand gripped Roy's tightly, tears burning her eyes. "That is him, baby; he's gone."

"No, no, he's not!" Her voice was high now, sobs wretching her body, nearly collapsing as Justin grabbed hold of her quickly, Tony standing behind her to steady to her uneasy footsteps. "He's not dead! We're supposed to get married! We were going to get married! We were getting married!"

Justin's voice fell upon her ears like cotton against cotton, she hearing nothing he had to say as she continued to cry out, his grip on her tightening as he pulled her through Karen and Roy, she suddenly realizing what he was doing and becoming rigid.

"No, let me go," she cried desperately, "let me go! Justin, please! I can't go up there! Let me go!"

"Justin, maybe you shouldn't -"

He turned to Roy, shaking his head as he fought back his own tears, face reddening with the breaths he was holding. "I have to. I have to give her this." He gripped her arms, nearly dragging her through the parlor towards his casket, his breath catching as he saw JC's face once more, the effect of what had happened to him never lessening. The funeral director had said that they had used a lot of make-up, to keep touches to his face minimal; the bruising was still there, and would form even more so with repetitive touches. As he stood by JC's midsection, he pulled her upright , making her look. "Open your eyes, Mila. This is real. This is your fucking life. He's here. He's not somewhere else and he's not just waiting outside for you. He is here, in this casket because he died. No matter how much you wish this away, it's not going to go away. This will never go away. He will."

Mila fought her body from the shakes that she felt forming at the base of her spine, tears blurring her vision of the man she had loved in front of her. This wasn't how she wanted to remember him, this wasn't how she wanted to envision him for the rest of her life. The make-up was caked on, he looking as if he had actually had on a pale pink chalky lipstick, almost matte; his skin was so pale, so yellow. Her hand immediately went to her mouth, masking a sob as the realization washed over her. This was it. He was gone. The life as she had known it to be, was over. She'd have to start over from the beginning. Without him.

When will my heart beat again?
When does the pain ever end?
When do the tears stop
From running over?
When does "you'll get over it" begin?
I hear what you're saying
But it's not making sense
So when can I see you
When can I see you again?

The tears fell like a break in a dam, falling down her face quickly in waterfalls as Justin cradled her on the floor in front of the casket, his tears mixing with hers as the two of them cried for the lost soul lying above them, neither one of them ready to grasp the reality that it was indeed over.

Take back that sad word good-bye
Bring back the joy to my life
Don't leave me here with these tears
Come and kiss this pain away
I can't forget, the day you left
Time is so unkind
And life is so cruel without you here beside me

She didn't want to deal with 'gone'. She needed him. She relied on him to feel again, to be alive. She couldn't go on without him.

She suddenly calmed, Justin startled as she pulled away from him. "Mila -"

"No," she said, voice low, almost eerie, "No." She struggled to get up, Justin scrambling to his feet, not even bothering to look at the people who had worriedly watched the scene unfold just moments before, now looking on in bewilderment. "This isn't going to work. No."

"Mila?" Karen stepped forward, Roy following suit as Mila stepped past them all, pushing open the doors to the funeral home, walking down the stairs briskly.

It was almost slow motion as every person she had met within the last few days, including his family had slowly exited, looking on in confusion as she continued her trek down the long staircase, her heeled feet crunching in the snow that was now slowly melting. She was done, she couldn't do this. Couldn't do this on her own.

She stepped out onto the road, inhaling slowly and calming her senses. She heard the oncoming traffic, she heard the blare of the horn closing the distance between her and the heavy machine. Heard everything but the conscience in her screaming for her to stop.

She turned her head, seeing them all running at her, Justin leading the pack as they screamed for her to stop. Justin looked panicked, overexerted as he pushed himself to run faster than he had ever done ... but it was too late. The sounds of squealing tires and the car skidding was close; so close she could taste it.

"Mila, no!"

And just like that, her world was peaceful again. She didn't have to face the world alone. The pain in her heart would dissipate, she'd have her life back.

Just the way it should have been.

She didn't want to deal with 'gone'. She needed him. She relied on him to feel again, to be alive. She couldn't go on without him.

She suddenly calmed, Justin startled as she pulled away from him. "Mila -"

"No," she said, voice low, almost eerie, "No." She struggled to get up, Justin scrambling to his feet, not even bothering to look at the people who had worriedly watched the scene unfold just moments before, now looking on in bewilderment. "This isn't going to work. No."

"Mila?" Karen stepped forward, Roy following suit as Mila stepped past them all, pushing open the doors to the funeral home, walking down the stairs briskly.

It was almost slow motion as every person she had met within the last few days, including his family had slowly exited, looking on in confusion as she continued her trek down the long staircase, her heeled feet crunching in the snow that was now slowly melting. She was done, she couldn't do this. Couldn't do this on her own.

She stepped out onto the road, inhaling slowly and calming her senses. She heard the oncoming traffic, she heard the blare of the horn closing the distance between her and the heavy machine. Heard everything but the conscience in her screaming for her to stop.

She turned her head, seeing them all running at her, Justin leading the pack as they screamed for her to stop. Justin looked panicked, overexerted as he pushed himself to run faster than he had ever done ... but it was too late. The sounds of squealing tires and the car skidding was close; so close she could taste it.

"Mila, no!"

____



She jerked awake, eyes wide as she held her hand to her chest, sweat pouring down her temples and down her collarbone, tears burning her eyes. It was a dream. Just a nightmarish dream that nearly gave her a premature heart attack.

"Josh," she whispered, reaching blindly over and touching cool sheets, she glancing over and swallowing hard when she realized he wasn't there, bed still made on his side. Maybe it wasn't a nightmare. Maybe it had happened. But she - and the car - the horns and the skidding ...

She got up, body cold from the lack of covers as she wrapped her arms around her body, feeling as if she were going into shock. Had she really attempted to kill herself? Or had she gone into shock and her mind played a horrible trick on her? If that was the case, from the moment he had died, the joke was on her. It was a sick joke, one that she wanted out of - immediately.

She felt tears burn in her eyes as the house she shared with him remained silent. When had she come back home? What day was it, even? Where the hell was everybody else and why was she feeling as if she needed to be admitted?!

She held tightly to the railing of the stairs leading to the foyer, taking the steps slowly, nearly snails pace. The living area was dark, as was the usually lit up kitchen. They actually had the gall to leave her alone? After losing him?

She swiped angrily at the tears falling down her cheeks, walking through the dark home without even worrying about stubbing her toe on the baby grand as she always did, tripping over the small step going downward to the dining area. She didn't care, she was numb. Numbness was the only thing to welcome her with open arms, it seemed.

She heard the clock ticking in the corner, the ticks falling in beat with her racing heart as she stood by the door to his small studio, hand shakily reaching for the knob and turning it slowly. Certainly, they wouldn't have gone down there; this was his, and only his. They had no business going through his personal belongings.

Just as she didn't.

But he was gone, it didn't matter anymore. All of his possessions were simply that: items that no longer had any value to him, any value to her. None of the demos he recorded, the albums he had put out, mattered; not if he wasn't there to sing along, to make fun of the choices of music that he had. None of it mattered without him.

She felt her heart sink. There was a light on in the studio. Someone had gone down there without even asking. Someone had gone down there to look through his things as if they owned them and not him.

"Hello?" She called out quietly, voice hoarse from sleep. "Who's down here?"

Silence responded back, she slowly descending the last bit of stairs as she stood at the landing, contemplating going into the one place that he had made into his home inside his home. This had been his retreat, why would she go into somewhere where she had no understanding of, no reason to be? This was his. She'd keep it his.

But she stepped forward, curiosity peaking as she studied the light further in. She was more confused now than she was when she woke up. Who had been with her? Who had slipped off into JC's studio while she was sleeping? And what the hell was going on? Why couldn't she remember anything?

Taking another few steps, she heard deep breathing coming from the other side of the room, the light inside the recording booth doing little to no help to illuminate the figure, she only making out the length of the body, lying on it's back, arms crossed over it's chest, head resting on the arm rest of the leather couch.

She felt angry. They had made themselves comfortable in a place that was now a place she wanted to keep undisturbed! Had they no morale? No respect for the dead? She reached for the main light, switching it on and letting her eyes adjust. No respect for - she stopped. Wait.

"Argh, baby, shut the light out," he mumbled, arm going up and resting against his eyes, blocking the bright flourescent from his sensitive irises. When he didn't get a response or any relief from the brightness, he spoke again. "Baby?"

She stood there, slack-jawed and wide-eyed as he rubbed his eyes roughly, trying to rid them of sleep as he slowly sat up, wincing as he squinted to look at her. "Josh?"

"Who else would be down here at," he stopped, looking at the time, "three thirty in the morning?"

She moved her mouth to speak, finding no words. Gripping her other hand, she gasped inwardly, looking down at her hand. Her engagement ring was on her left hand. Had they -

"La, are you okay?" He slowly rose to his feet, crossing the room and studying her surprised and utterly confused face. "You look ... I don't know what you look but I'm confused -"

"What day is it, Josh?"

He looked at her weirdly, scratching his head absent-mindedly as he thought for a moment. "January 12th? Yeah, the 12th. Justin's party was the 10th and we stayed until the 11th, so yeah -"

"The 12th?"

"That's what I said ..."

He died on the 4th of January. He had died 8 days ago. She was dreaming now. She had to be. "Josh -"

"Mila," he stepped closer to her, gripping her hand as she gasped, his skin warm against her cold. "You're scaring me. Baby, are you all right?"

She felt tears burn in her eyes once more as she lunged at him, he crying out in surprise as she nearly tackled him, laughing as he tightened his grip around her. "I'm more than all right, I'm amazing ..."

He grinned against the skin on her temple, placing a gentle kiss there as she held to her tightly. "God, the way you were looking at me was almost as if you were looking at a dead man."

"You have no idea how good it is to look at you the way I am," she said, pulling away and studying his face. "No idea."

He smiled warmly at her, leaning forward and kissing her deeply. "I think I do."

"No," she said, shaking her head as she held his face in her hands, "you have no idea."

Leaning his forehead to hers, he studied her eyes, seeing the mixed emotions written all over them. "Are you sure you're okay?"

She nodded, smiling as his face nodded with her. "Really bad dream," she murmured, "but reality made it so much better." She gripped his hand as he kissed her forehead, eyes fluttering shut at his touch, "so much better."

"C'mon, let's go to bed." He took her hand, yawning dramatically. "I hate when I fall asleep down here. I hate being away from you. Feels like death to me."

She studied the back of his head as he led her up the stairs and through the house to the stairwell that led to their bedroom, she nodding in agreeance. "It was the death of me."