A/N: So this is something I've been wanting to publish for a while, but didn't have the desire to finish it until a few days. This fanfic pours out my immense angst over J.T.'s death (which was over eight years ago .-.) and it gave me a chance to express it. This oneshot took a while to write, so I would appreciate it if you could read it and even review. c:

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the creativity and writing.

F o r g e t t i n g isn't an option.

"I will always care for you, even if we're not together and even if we're far, far away from each other."

-Unknown

And everything was perfect, but it wasn't.

She'd had her life laid out before her since she was in diapers. Her parents made the plans, she followed them, no regrets. She was 21 years old, about to graduate from Smithdale University. She was destined to become a big-time lawyer at her father's law firm in the city. It was anything and everything any successful person could dream of.

She smiled and sipped her red wine. Here she was, talking with a bunch of her colleagues, about business, love, sex, and money. Act smart, be sophisicated. They gossiped, she faked a laugh. She pretended it was real, that she was grateful for her shallow, backstabbing friends and the life laid before her.

She wanted to stop, but wondered what she would be left with if so.

Long, loose curls cascaded down her back as she smiled softly at her reflection. Her look was complete with a vivid crimson dress clung to her curves and decently-sized pumps to match. She was about to participate in what could be the highlight of her career.

"And award for the most credible and noble lawyer in the nation goes to Miss Liberty Van Zandt." The presenter announces. She plasters the biggest smile manageable on her face and strides to receive the award. She begins her acceptance speech like rehearsed. She thanks her parents for the law firm, Smithdale for preparing her for life as a lawyer, and anyone who had encouraged her to get as far as she did.

As she stares out in the audience she sees an all-too-familiar figure standing at the door with the same cheesy, toothy grin. Her voice gets stuck in her throat for a moment and she jumbles up the words to her speech. She keeps going with the speech and shortly ends it altogether.

When she comes down from the platform, he's gone.

She held on to the biggest memory.

They were surprised when she actually showed at her son's tenth birthday party. She hadn't visited since they had moved to the states and the invitation was simply to remain on terms of their open adoption.

She showed halfway through the party. Her son, who she learned was named James, after his father, she hoped, knew who she was immediately, but was hesitant towards her. At the end of the party, while everyone was leaving, she spoke to her son for the first time.

She gathered her keys and was about to head out when a small figure tapped her on the arm. She turned around, rather shocked. Big brown eyes stared up at her. They were so innocent, and memories flooded her like a tidal wave. She remembered being a little girl, with big hopes and dreams and feeling happy all the time. She missed it more than anything. She kissed happiness away when he went.

"Are you my real mommy?" he asked. Tears welled up in her eyes. He reminded her so much of his dad. He had the eyes, the hair, the nose. He was a miniature J.T.

She was speechless. All she could do was nod and quietly allow a tear to escape as she hugged him and he hugged back.

She saved her serious dates for her dreams.

Her love life didn't exist. She went on dates, but nothing even remotely serious stemmed from any of them. She had excuses, plenty of them.

I just have too much work to do.

I don't have enough time for love.

No one really understands me.

No one ever questioned why she was so repulsed by the thought of love. Everyone she was in contact with didn't know much about her past.

All love ever does is throw up in your face what you pour into it.

She lives for his midnight visits.

Every mentally stable person would reasonably believe that they were dreams. Liberty knew that they weren't.

It felt real. Him touching her, kissing her, whispering sweet nothings into her ears while she savored every moment because she knew this might be the last time she sees him.

Random nights, at late hours of the night or wee hours of the morning, he would return to make Liberty whole again. They would catch up with each other, talk for hours upon hours until he had to go back. It would just be the two of them, together, like it used to be. Before everything blew up in their faces. He tells her he loves her, she says it back and they wait to unite again.

She savored the sickly sweet relapses, but hated them all the same.

It was the perfect form of torture, she realized. Everyday was another struggle, trying to decide if it was worth getting out of bed in the morning when she already knew that the best part of her died over ten years ago. She knew deep down that she would never have happiness, the true happiness that she had experienced once before, again.

Looking back, this might've been the most tragic, twisted love story of all time. Though, here she was still fighting tears, remembering the fresh blood on her party dress, while they obsessed over stupid, made-up books that didn't even compare. She suffered, they didn't care.

On her birthday. There was no point in celebrating it anymore. Not when the pain from that day was stronger than any happiness from it. Sometimes, she would wish she was never born.

If I wasn't born, we wouldn't have had that party.

I would never have told J.T. that I loved him.

I wouldn't have stormed out when he told me he loved Mia.

He wouldn't have gone looking for me.

And he never would have died.

She didn't understand why she was the only one.

It was almost as if everyone had forgotten his existence. Real, solid smiles lit up their faces, with no trace of the sad emotion Liberty felt everyday.

Emma refused to talk about it. How selfish of her. Liberty couldn't stand it. They got in numerous fights over it. One day, they just snapped. They hadn't spoken in almost a decade.

Manny was too sympathetic. Every conversation they had alone was about how she was doing and how she was holding up. Liberty decided enough was enough and eventually broke it up with Manny as well.

Toby was a different story. He was the only one to ever truly understand how she felt. J.T. and Toby were as close as J.T. and Liberty were. He fell in love with her, eventually. She didn't know what to do about it. Her heart still belonged to J.T., but with all that Toby had helped her through, she could break his heart. Without him, she would have been gone, far far away. So she repeatedly found ways to reject him softly, and he just gave up. He gave up on her.

And in the end, she cried out for the final time.

Here she was, lying in her death bed. Cancer finally got it's way. Only thirty-five years old, she had lived quite a short life, but felt as if she had lived 100 years. She was weak. Her body was caving in, she knew she didn't have much time left.

She looked around the empty hospital room, the empty waiting room. No one was there to watch her go. It was extremely depressing, but emtremely appropriate considering she spent most of her life pushing away everyone important to her.

In her final hour, she took the time to break down. Really breakdown. Something she hadn't done in forever.

Sobs wracked her frail, fragile body.

She broke down for all the I-Love-You's.

She broke down for all the wasted time.

She broke down for all the fights.

She broke down for all the years spent grieving.

She broke down because he died on her birthday.

She broke down because they were the ultimate star-crossed lovers.

She broke down because of everything and a little more.

And she let go.

Right before she drifted off into an eternal sleep, she swore she heard him echoed in the small hospital room walls.

"I love you, Libby."