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."