Date began: February 5, 2007

Date finished:

Dedication: For myself, cos when you all begged me for an AlexAmy fic, I wrote it just because you requested it. I thought I could never get into it, and now I am hooked and can't stop writing them.

Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to the writer. They remain property of Channel 7 and Southern Star.

Song credits: The Veronica's, Stevie Wonder, Wendy Matthews, Ben Folds, Leonardo's Bride, Peter Gabriel, Simply Red, The Whitlams, Andrea Bocelli, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, Lamb, Guy Sebastian, Crowded House, Tim McGraw, Mariah Carey, Evanescence

Warning: Don't hold your breath for each chapter of this fic. As you can see I've been working on and off on it for more than a year now. I've been pretty slack and a lot of the time I've lacked motivation and ideas for this story. But more will come as soon as I can manage it - Brinds

In Your Memory

Chapter 1 Falling at your Feet

I know I look like a total dag, and sound like one too, but what the hell. What they see is what they get with Alex Kirby. This is just another posting…woah. Who is this? I turn expectantly to Jonesy, giving him the look.

"Well hello Foxy!" Ohhh she's cute. I look her up and down, as much as I can, since she's sitting behind a desk.

"Senior Detective will be fine."

Hmmm great start boofhead.

Falling head over heels

Thought I knew how it feels

They won't let me in…I need to be in there to hold her hand. She needs me. She's in there by herself. What if something goes wrong? I pace the corridor anxiously, oblivious to all around me. Not that there's much going on – it's the middle of the night. But I just want to be with her.

"Don't tell me you're nervous Amy Fox!" I tease her as we drive in the afternoon sun.

She goes to defend herself, but then stops, just admitting the truth for once. "Of course I am Alex," she replies, giving a little laugh. I reach over and squeeze her hand.

"Don't be," I assure her quickly. "If I love you, they'll love you."

She nodded, still looking a little afraid, and sat back in her seat to stew over it for the rest of the ride. It was me who had suggested we do the whole introduction thing, because I know, even though we have only been together for a few months, that this is the woman I'm going to marry.

As we get closer to my parents house I wonder if she knows it too. I wonder if she feels as infatuated as I do, and thinks we'll get married as well. I wonder what she will think of the rest of the Kirby's. My brain doesn't stop turning over until we pull into that familiar driveway – the driveway where I rode my first bike, threw up 15 beers with Jonesy and reversed Dad's car into the letterbox. It's home.

I pull at the handbrake and go to climb out of my seat when Amy grabs my hand desperately. I turn to her, my face questioning. Being home feels so good for me, a part of me wonders why it feels so nerve wracking for her.

"Are they seriously going to like me Alex?" she asks me again. Never before have I seen this hardened detective so unsure of her own abilities. Her eyes seek an answer from me, one that will reassure her.

"Amy," I begin, unable to stop myself from smiling in the face of her nerves. "My parents are just like me. If you get on with me, you'll get on with them." I lean over to kiss her and she receives the kiss absent mindedly. "Don't worry."

We climb out of the car and I am almost glad in a way that I will never have to meet her parents. Because I'm sure I'd feel exactly the same as she does right now and I'm not as brave as she is. I take her hand and we walk up to the house. I lead her around to the backdoor. My mother always says that only salespeople and people we don't like come to the front door. Our friends always use the backdoor. So that's where I take Amy. She's still nervous, and grips my hand tightly. I smile at her as I push my way inside, letting the screen door slam behind us. This house is always open, and that's what I love about it.

A head pokes out of the living room, a jumble of pens and paper in her hand. It's my mother, and of course, she heard us the moment we pulled up but couldn't tear herself away from her next best seller.

"Alexxxxx," she greets me in her usual tone, the way that makes me glad to be home. It's like old friends greeting each other. Barrelling me over in a hug, my hand comes apart from Amy's and I sense her step away and hang back. So I break out of Mum's hug and step back to Amy, lacing my fingers through hers and gesturing with my other hand to Mum. "Mum? This is Amy." I almost blurt out my real feelings – "Mum – this is the love of my life" – but I know she'll slap me one for embarrassing Amy so much. So I keep it simple. But nothing could ever stop a meeting the parents moment being awkward, for anybody.

Amy extends her hand to my mother, which of course goes ignored and gets squashed as she hugs my girl to death. It's the Kirby way.

"You wouldn't believe how much Alex chatters on about you on the phone to me Amy," Mum smiles warmly at her, and I watch as Amy's shoulders lower and the worry lines disappear from her face. My mother can put anybody at ease.

"Really?" she asks, squeezing my hand.

Mum nods and bustles into the kitchen. "Oh only every minute of our conversations!"

Amy turns to me as we follow her and grins so big and so unlike herself that I am taken aback for a moment. She brings her hand up to my cheek and pulls me in to kiss her as we walk – it's a secret, meaningful moment that overrides my embarrassment at being shamed by my own mother. As we enter the kitchen we keep our hands linked, our fingers laced through each others, and I know this afternoon and dinner tonight will go just fine.

"I like her." Dad nods at me, smiling and raising his eyebrows in my direction.

"Do you now?" I ask, taking the piss out of him all I can.

"She from work is she?" Dad ignores my pathetic attempts at beating him in the humour stakes. I nod, looking through the loungeroom door and into the kitchen where my mother and my girlfriend stand talking. "Ranked higher than you?"

"Sadly yes," I laugh. "She's a D Dad." It makes him look into the kitchen too and study her in a different way now that he knows she has brains and not just beauty.

"How long have you two been…?" he lets the end of the sentence hang in the air until I answer.

"Half a year?"

"All going good?"


"No problems…here? There?" He's skating around it very well.

"She's the one Dad." I know she is. And with that he eases himself out of the chair, walks over to me and shakes my hand firmer than he ever has before. It's a sign. I grin, knowing he will be the first to hand me a beer when I tell him we're engaged.

He wonders out of the room and into the backyard, all set to water the veggie patch in the setting sunlight. I sit alone for a moment, just lapping up the incredibly happy way I feel right now. I can hear the girls still chatting in the kitchen, and I realise how easily Amy has slipped into this mould. Over dinner the four of us talked like we were old friends, and I saw a side to Amy – a social, talkative, welcoming Amy – that I had never seen before. It makes me wonder what the rest of our lives will be like.

I ease myself out of my chair the same way Dad did, and shove my hands in my pockets as I approach the kitchen. The closer I get the more I can hear their conversation. As I step onto the tiles of the kitchen floor Amy finishes her sentence with an unsure smile at my mother. "…hasn't asked me yet."

I know immediately what she is referring to and my heart almost leaps out of my chest with the confirmation at last that she wants to marry me too. I grin and step over to the two of them, wrapping my arms around Amy front on, and the two of us turn our heads to my mother as they abruptly end their conversation. Mum whacks me with the tea towel as she bustles out of the kitchen and to the back yard to give Dad his before bed cup of tea. She whispers quickly in my ear, just loud enough for me to hear. "Next time you bring Amy to visit Alex Kirby, she better have a ring on her finger!"

The doctor comes out with that look on his face that I've only seen in my nightmares. But no matter how much I close my eyes now he won't go away. I brace myself, the tears already forming in my eyes. "I'm sorry Mr Kirby," he said quietly, extending a hand to pat my shoulder uselessly. "We always knew that this was a risk when Amy became pregnant."

I nod numbly, the tears spilling over my cheeks in a steady cascade of pain. I don't even know what to say. I knew it was a risk too. But I had always counted on Amy being the strong person I knew her as. The doctor doesn't seem to know what to do either. "Come down to the nursery when you're ready…" he says quickly before again taking to the long corridor.

How can I go and see our baby? She will be her mother in every sense of the word, and how can I look at that when I don't have her mother anymore? I fumble my way out a side exit and into a small upper level courtyard at the back of the hospital. Yelling obscenities at the world my heart hurts and I wonder why we ever agreed to have children. This wasn't supposed to be the way things went. I've gained one, but lost another.

I hang over the railing and cry so hard I lose my breath. The tears fall silently down to the bushes below as I squeeze my eyes shut and gasp for breath, wrapping my arms around myself, only making me realise I'll never be able to hold her again – the way I used to every single night, the way I did our wedding night, and the night she told me she was pregnant. I'll never have that again. It's gone.

I can't believe I'm going to ask. I can't believe we've got to this…finally. I sit her down on the couch and place myself down next to her, trying to contain her fidgets. One weekend away from the office and you can barely hold her down. She itches to be back there – a holiday is not something she's used to. Although, she is a lot better than she used to be.

"How long has it been Amy?" I whisper into her ear as she finally settles into my arms and ceases her fidgeting. She knows what I am referring to immediately – it has been a long time now, and I know she can read my mind.

"Three years," she whispers, turning around to smile at me as she answers my question. She touches my cheek with the back of her index finger and I notice for the first time the beauty that surrounds her slender hands. Now I can only add to that.

I slide off the couch, taking her by surprise as she struggles to sit upright. My 32 year old knees moan and groan at my actions, but just the look on her face makes me forget any pain. She knows what I'm about to do. She's caught on. I dig, fumbling, in my pocket. It's in there somewhere!

Finally I find it and open it, holding it out in front of her. "Will you marry me?"

I feel like this is the beginning,
Though I've loved you for a million years,
And if I thought our love was ending,
I'd find myself drowning in my own tears