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Disclaimer: I don't own Remember Me; that right belongs to Will Fetters.

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Marked

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"You once told me that our fingerprints don't fade from the lives we touch…"

Everyone leaves behind their mark in life at least once.

Initials carved on a tree, a symbolic gesture of love.

Words spoken with such conviction, with such power that they cannot be forgotten from your head.

Whether the impact if physical, mental, emotional, or verbal, everyone leaves their marks.

Ally Craig knew this very well first hand.

She stared bleakly at the dull, white walls of the room, reading various posters, but not really soaking in the information they held. She'd rather spend her night in bed, wrapped in Tyler's old bed sheets that Aidan had given her, inhaling the fading scent of cologne and sweat. Despite two months passing, she couldn't bear to part with the sheets yet, nor wash them no matter how unsanitary it may have been. She didn't really care.

His clothes were also possessions of his she coveted. Tyler's mother and father were more than willing to part with certain memorabilia. She hadn't spoken to them for a month now, although she did take a trip to the MET with Caroline. They walked, hand-in-hand, relishing in one another for the comfort emitted from them both.

She found solace from her father, both knowing the loss of their ill-fated loved ones. Tyler did indeed leave his mark on everyone in his family and life.

A mark was left on Aidan as he drove to a tattoo parlor the following week to have Tyler's name branded on his arm. Ally remembered that day very well, Aidan clasping her hand firmly as the tattoo artist scarred his skin, but he did not clutch her hand in pain. No. He held her hand with a different kind of pain.

A mark was left upon the Hawkins family. Caroline's estranged relationship with Charles was now mended. Charles became active in not only his daughter's world, but also his ex-wife and her husband. They celebrated together. Rejoiced together. Mourned together.

And markings were left upon her, Ally, one just as strong as the other.

Tyler touched her heart alongside other places. He had her mind, body, and soul.

Every whisper…

Every trail of kisses he left from neck to shoulder…

The one, fond I love you he spoke to her on that morning…

September 11th, 2001 would forever be engraved in America's hearts.

It was the day that she so desperately wanted to believe that Tyler had a flat tire while riding to Wall Street.

It was the day that ripped apart her world.

But not all had been lost that day.

The door opened, and the doctor walked in with her clipboard in hand, shuffling through the various papers. A smile lit her face as she nodded and handed her a sonogram.

"It was positive."

For you see, in the very early hours of that morning, Tyler and Ally had made love three times over. She had never been one to be on the pill, for she hardly engaged in sexual relations. They had used a condom every time.

Yes, kids, what they tell you in school, infomercials, and teenage-drama programs are true: condoms don't always work.

But this was her blessing in disguise.

The weeks following Tyler's death, Ally fell ill with morning sickness, and her period had been late. She chalked it up to anxiety, and her period was always irregular. Time went on, but the nausea continued, and her menstrual cycle had seemed elude her once more.

That was when she found herself, with Aidan of all people, standing in front of the pregnancy test section of a corner store. She peed on just about nine tests and not one told her what she didn't already know.

"You once told me that our fingerprints don't fade from the lives we touch…"

Tyler had indeed left his mark on Ally.

He left behind a new set of fingerprints, part of him, for her and his family to bond over.

With a tearful nod, Ally wiped the gel off her stomach, clutching the sonogram in her hands. She walked down the streets in disbelief, and before she knew it she stood on the platforms of the subway. The doors opened, and she headed straight home.

A faint smile graced her lips as she sat comfortably on the subway, carrying the one mark Tyler left behind within her womb.

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Authoress Note: Ambiguity is an author's best-friend.