Death!fic. Angst. Written in six minutes. Not very good. Speaking in broken sentences. Time for bed.


What if things could have been different?

That's a question I keep asking myself.

And keep asking myself and keep asking myself...

What if things could have been different?

He's gone. Just...gone...

And I miss him. I miss him more than I thought I would.

I mean...we broke up, didn't we? Beckett and Cadman is a thing of the past...

I shouldn't miss him this way...

I shouldn't miss him this much...

If I didn't love him.

Which is what I told him.

Which isn't true.

Which is a statement I'll never get to recant now that he's gone.

Why is it every time I find something...find something good, something that I need...why is it I let it go?

Why do I let it go without thinking?

Why do I always realize just how good I had it, just how much I needed it, only when it's gone?

But by then it's too late.

And if ever there was a time when it was 'too late'...this is definitely it, isn't it?

He's dead...he's buried...

And he'll never know.

That isn't fair. That isn't fair at all.

I could spend a lot of time standing here, saying 'What if things had been different'...

Hell, that's what I'm doing, isn't it?

I shouldn't be, I know I shouldn't be.

But that's the only thing I can think of to do right now...

What if?

It just keeps repeating and repeating in my head, circling like a caged animal and I can't make it go away.

What if, what if, what if...

It still feels so unreal. I'm staring at the patch of freshly upturned earth that he's beneath and I can't seem to reconcile that it's real.

I'm half tempted to pinch myself and check, but I know that won't do any good.

So I'll just do what everyone else does. Put my flowers near the headstone and walk away.

Pretend that I didn't love him.

Pretend that I can go on without him.

Pretend there aren't any regrets to be had.

Pretend...just for now...that there is no such thing as 'What if'.


A/N: So. Blah. (It's three in the morning, I'm tired, that's as coherent as I get. Deal with it.)

Written in response to the one hundred first sentences challenge on the When Plot Bunnies Attack forum, number four: What if things could have been different?