Craig was giving what he hoped was a riveting speech to a scarily large crowd of people. The moment he had finished he had to resist running off the stage to his wife. Instead, he calmly exited the platform through the back. Backstage, she pulled him close and locked her lips onto his.

"You were amazing, sweetheart," said Ashley, beaming.

"You sure I didn't overdo it with the long speech?" Craig asked anxiously. "I mean, it was quite long and towards the end it was a bit weak—"

"No, everybody loved it," assured Ashley, and stopped him from saying anything further about his worries as she kissed him again.

After the award show was over, Craig and Ashley left the building, applause still ringing in their ears, and got into the car.

"After all these years I got a Grammy," said Craig as they drove down the street, unable to keep a smile off his face. Finally, his hard work had paid off.

"They should have given you that Grammy and long time ago," said Ashley.

"I'm glad I got it now," said Craig. "Better late than never! It feels like everything is just…impossibly perfect."

"I can't wait until I have your baby," said Ashley, rubbing her stomach.

"I know; all you talk about is my baby," Craig joked.

"I hope—whatever it is that I'm having—I hope it's just like you," said Ashley.

Craig smiled at her, pleased. "I am amazing," he kidded, then took her hand and added seriously, "but so are you. I want the best for both of us."

Craig slowed at the red lights until he eventually stopped, one hand still in Ashley's as he waited for the red to change to amber. It wouldn't have taken long. But it still wasn't fast enough.

There was the piercing, heart stopping sound of squealing tires as a car came spinning out of nowhere, handled drunkenly and terribly by a young man.

"CRAIG!" Ashley screamed in terror as the vehicle hurtled towards them. Three things happened all at once.

The light switched to amber. Craig instinctively threw himself over Ashley. The out of control car slammed into them, and there was the sound of scraping metal and shattering glass as the car jerked sideways, the world spinning as the car rolled.

He was too terrified to scream before he was plunged into darkness.

Craig slowly regained consciousness, his mind foggy. He opened his eyes and squinted in the gleaming white light. He turned his head and saw an unfamiliar woman—a doctor, he realized with a rush of fear—standing beside him with a clipboard.

"…What am I doing here?" he asked in a whisper. "Why am I…?" He trailed off. Did he really want to know?

"You were in a car accident tonight," she said simply and calmly. "It was a bad one, but you were very lucky. You'll be fine. There's no long-term damage." Images suddenly flashed before his eyes—the red orb of the traffic light, the silver car heading straight for them at a horrific speed. The sound of tires failing to brake in time, a crash…

A scream. Ashley.

"My wife," he said suddenly, more to himself than anyone else. He bolted upright despite the doctor's protests, fighting to keep down the contents of his stomach. "Where…where's Ashley? Our baby, you know about the baby, don't you? Where is she… Tell me…" His voice started to fail him as she put the clipboard down on the table next to the bed and sat on the bed next to him. Her eyes. The look in her eyes: pain, regret…pity. Craig knew what she was going to say, and shook his head.

"No," he begged, squeezing his eyes shut as though to block out the world. "No…no please don't…" But her voice still broke through his feeble barriers, the words stabbing into his heart.

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Manning. Both your wife and baby didn't make it," she said gently. He didn't reply, and she asked in concern, "Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

"No," he whispered hoarsely. "They can't be. They must be alive…" He remembered the crash, Ashley's wide eyed fear. "I tried to protect her, I covered her…"

"Your car was hit on the driver's side," she said, still in a cool voice that was supposed to be calming. "You moved, so escaped the initial impact from the other vehicle. But the car rolled from the force and your wife sustained a severe head injury, as the passenger side hit the ground first when your car moved. That as well as the following movement and impacts… I'm sorry."

Craig started to shake his head frantically.

"No…..no….no…no…this isn't true…it can't be, my wife is still alive," he said. Her warm face, the love in her eyes when she looked at him. Them, together. Indestructible

The doctor stood, picked up her clipboard and read from it with a serious expression.

"Your wife was in surgery. We tried everything we could, but it wasn't enough. Your wife and baby didn't make it." She looked up at him. "They died; her heart gave out. I'm sorry."

First, he felt crushing pain and sadness. Then, slowly, he was filled with anger and he began to tremble.

"I'm so sorry," she said again. He didn't feel himself; it was like someone else had taken over. Someone desperate, someone who would give anything for his family to be alive.

"Stop saying sorry," he growled. She blinked at him.

"What?"

"This is a sick joke," he said in a trembling voice. "You're lying. You're lying to me."

"I'm not—"

"YOU'RE A FUCKING LIAR!" he roared at her. "THEY AREN'T DEAD! HOW CAN YOU TELL ME THEY ARE?"

"Please, calm yourself—"

"No, I won't be treated like this! I won a Grammy," he said feebly. "I'll call the police. You can't lie like that…YOU FUCKING LIAR!" He took a swipe at her in his rage, but she ducked and ran from the room, calling for assistance.

Wasting no time, Craig wrenched out his IV and got out of bed, stumbling a little. He staggered into the hallway, pushing aside his doctor and two nurses as they tried to stop him. He forced himself to run, ignoring the pain that shot through him as he moved. He had to be somewhere.

"ASHLEY!" he screamed, his voice echoing around the hallway. The few people around stared as he dashed past. The must think I'm a madman, he thought bitterly. They don't know they're lying, that they're sick…

"ASHLEY! ASHLEY!"

Suddenly he felt a hand grip his arm and halt him, and he found himself looking into the face of another interfering, corrupted sham of a doctor.

"You were in a severe accident, you need to return to your room or you'll do yourself further injury," he began, but Craig interrupted.

"I AM NOT GOING TO REST UNTIL I FIND ASHLEY!" he yelled, feeling tears stream down his face. "WHERE IS SHE? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HER? WHERE IS SHE?"

Even through tear filled eyes he saw the sharp glint of the needle the doctor whipped out, and shoved him away.

"GET AWAY!" he screamed, and the nurses who had rushed over stared at him, looking horrified. The doctor advanced with the needle and— in a snap decision—he made a run for it.

His feet pounded against the gleaming white floor and he ran through the maze-like hospital with no sense of direction, just one need: Find Ashley. Look everywhere. Find her.

He was exhausted and tiring when he passed a door entitled "Relative's Room." He slowed as he registered what he'd seen through the door's small window, and he doubled back and looked in again, filling with dread.

Ashley's mother. She sat inside, her eyes red raw from crying. Her shoulders shook with sobs, and it was then that Craig finally knew the truth for certain. He couldn't deny it anymore.

Ashley's mother never cried.

Ashley was dead.

Craig's knees suddenly weakened and he dropped to the floor like a stone. A sob rose in his chest, and he broke down. Finally…he cried for her.

"ASHLEY!" he screamed, this time in heart breaking anguish. "NO!" He thought of their baby, dead before it even had the chance to live. "NO!" He screams burned within him and pierced the air, and he covered his own ears to block out the sound.

He was quickly found and sedated. The pain was numbed for a while until he woke again, unable to move and alone. He had nothing to think about but the truth.

And it was torture.

In a shadowy, dingy room in New York City, Craig lay sprawled on the sofa, surrounded by dirty clothes and dishes. His hand dangled beside an empty bottle of wine, and he jerked and almost knocked it over as a fist pounded against the front door.

"Go away," he mumbled. The person kept knocking, harder this time. "I said GO AWAY."

"Come on, man, open up," said Sean, his voice muffled by the door.

"I told you, LEAVE ME ALONE!" Craig pulled a pillow over his head, determined to be by himself.

"Fine. If you won't let me in, I'll get in myself!"

Sean quickly found Craig's poorly hidden back-up key outside the door on the small ledge above the doorframe. He shoved it in the lock and turned the handle.

The door swung open, revealing the mess of an apartment that looked as though it had been bombed.

"Damn, Craig, when did you last clean this place?" he asked, walking in and sidestepping a plate that seemed to be growing a new, dangerous looking kind of mould.

"What's the point?" Craig said lowly, the greying pillow still firmly clasped over his head.

"How about not having the whole building quarantined?" Sean asked sarcastically. Craig didn't say anything, and Sean stomped over, tugging the pillow away from him. "Right! You're going out tonight; I've had enough of your moping. You're no fun."

"I don't want to have no fun," said Craig, sitting up and glowering at him. Pain flickered across his face. "I can't without Ashley."

"It's been five years since she died," Sean said, trying to look sympathetic but unable to hide his irritation. "You need to move on."

"I can't just MOVE ON like she wasn't here!" Craig snapped.

"I understand you're hurting but if you keep this up you'll end up with her!"

"There's nothing wrong with how I live!" said Craig in vicious defense, tugging a half-empty beer bottle out from under the sofa cushion. Sean stared at him in disbelief as he chugged it down.

"So you aren't coming to the club tonight? Again?"

"No, I am not," Craig said, taking the bottle from his lips. "And I never will."

"All right, fine. But if you change your mind, here's the address." Sean dropped a business card onto the table beside the couch, and left.

After a few moments Craig got up and walked dodgily into his small, grotty bathroom. He stepped on something and, with a frown, bent down to pick it up. His heart stopped.

It was a baby toy. A little teddy bear that smiled blankly up at him. He had bought if for Ashley when she told him she was pregnant. He didn't know how it had ended up on the floor of the bathroom—it had probably happened when he was drunk and wild, but still not quite as detached from real life as he wanted to be.

Familiar anger and sorrow bolted through Craig and he lobbed his now empty beer bottle at the mirror carelessly. There was a smash and the mirror's frame shuddered, the glass shattering and clattering to the floor. He stared at the mix of mirroring and green glass glinting on the floor, then turned and went back to the couch, the white hot anger gone and replaced with a heavy feeling over his heart. He felt the little bear in his hand and stroked the soft fur with his thumb, closing his eyes but unable to prevent one small tear from leaking out.

Late the next morning he made one of his rare trips out into the city, dressed in a dirty shirt and shabby jeans. He got many disapproving looks from people in the street, directing at everything from his untidy hair to his mud stained, torn shoes. But he didn't particularly care. He hadn't really cared what people thought of him for a long while, good or bad.

He passed a young woman who hurriedly pulled her little girl closer as he went past, probably mistaking him for a mad homeless tramp. He sighed and went into the nearest store, deciding he should get a new shirt or something to mildly improve his appearance.

It had been a long, long time since the washing machine had worked. And even then he had no idea how to use it.

When he went to the counter to purchase his new shirt, a magazine caught his eye. Staring out at him from the cover was a man he hadn't seen in a long while.

Himself.

The enormous heading read: Craig Manning—Mystery Disappearance…Scandal?

He'd been in the news before, but this was new.

He snatched up the magazine and bought it along with his new shirt. It was a mark of how much he'd changed (and possibly how much grime covered his face) that the woman at the till didn't recognize him.

The moment he arrived back at his "palace" he opened the magazine and quickly read over what it said. He could barely concentrate on the whole article, but certain sentences jumped out at him:

"We all wondered why star Craig Manning vanished. Unable to cope with his wife's death? Tragically sad? Now we wonder if it was something more."

The entire article was nothing more than speculation, but it chilled Craig to the bone.

"…Was his bad driving responsible for the crash? It is confirmed that he was in fact in the driver's seat. We got in an expert to tell us more…"

"…A fellow singing sensation tells us how his relationship with the beautiful Ashley seemed frosty when she saw them. 'On reflection I never really saw them hug, only give each other a peck for the cameras.'…"

"…Of course Ashley was stunning, and we have to wonder if Craig had at first only wanted a fling. Did he leg it after the commitment to wife and baby was over?"

He could take no more. He leapt up and grabbed another bottle of Jack Daniel's alcohol from the kitchen, and drank it down steadily. Then another. Then another. Then another, until finally he collapsed to the floor, the printed, carefully constructed lies still whirling in his head.

Back in Toronto, Manny was sweating over designing clothes for the models, when her boss entered the room.

"Is this all you've done?" he asked, staring around disapprovingly. "We need these clothes for the fashion show today!"

"We are going as fast as we can," said Alicia, looking a little peeved.

"Look, you guys need to go faster; we have the most famous people in fashion industry coming here today," said David.

"If we do a good job, does it mean we will get a raise?" Monica asked hopefully.

"No, you're not going to get a raise, but your designs will be worn by the most famous, stunning people in New York City," said David triumphantly, basking in the happy glow of his job while the designers slaved around him. "Finish those sketches, and Manny, I need you in my office." David gave her a sideways glance and then left the room.

"I wonder what he wants to see you about," said Monica worriedly.

"Whatever it is, I bet it's not good," said Alicia.

"Make sure you beg a lot when you go into his office. That might get him to let you kept your job," advised Christina. She paused. "Maybe."

Manny got up from the table and went over to the door hesitantly.

"I'm sure he doesn't want to fire me," she said lightly, then let a sigh out and went to his office.

"You wanted to see me about something," she said as she entered, closing the door behind her.

David got up from his chair and went over to his windows. He closed the blinds. Then he walked past her and locked the door.

He went over to Manny and grabbed her by her arms tightly and—before she could protest—slammed his lips against hers, kissing her passionately. She struggled, and he pulled away reluctantly, staring at her intently.

"M…Mr. Boss, this is not the place or time to be doing this," gasped Manny.

"I'm sorry, but I can't help it. I need you," said David.

"I…but…what about the other girls out there? Don't you think they'll hear something?" Manny said, thinking fast. David smiled.

"Don't worry about them. I need you. Now." She was rooted to the spot as David kissed her neck, gently and tauntingly. She sighed.

"All right. Just this one time," relented Manny. She jumped as David quickly shoved everything off his desk and hauled her up on top of it. He began to kiss her again, and Manny didn't see fireworks or have feelings of excitement or passion.

I can't believe I'm doing this here, she thought, feeling herself blush as he started to get out of his clothes.

Afterwards, Manny lay on the desk, gasping for air.

"Wow! That is what I call a good lunch break," she said, admitting to herself that perhaps she had been mistaken about it being wrong. It had certainly seemed right.

"Yeah. It was amazing," David said, a pleased grin on his face.

"I'm glad we did it," said Manny simply, then got up and dressed, David following suit.

"Now, remember we're having lunch with my parents tonight," Manny reminded him firmly. "Right?"

"Uh…yeah, I remember. Don't worry, I'll be there," said David.

Manny kissed him on the lips gratefully, and David held the door open for her as she left the office and returned to the other girls.

Thanks for reading.

Reviews my story please. :)

I loved to read reviews on my story and reviews are really appreciated,

Credit Goes To Arwen Thandiel and demetrifever123