How could something so beautiful end so horribly?

It all started with a trip to the hospital. Looking back on that always made Spencer want to laugh. Leave it to him to start the greatest relationship of his life with a trip to the hospital. He should've taken that as a sign for just how unique things would be between them. From the minute Remy walked in to his life until the day he walked out, nothing was ever dull between them.

The day was sunny, he remembered. Most California days were. Finals were coming up in a few weeks and he was starting to reach that crunch time where life consisted only of classes and studying and then even more studying. His mind was focused on his work. That was the excuse he gave to the doctors and the officers, later. He'd been focusing totally on his schoolwork and on the psychology textbook in his hands. So much so that the rest of the world sort of faded away around him. It was a bad habit of his and one that had gotten him into trouble often enough, especially on that day. The whole accident was his fault, he knew. There was no denying that. Because walking down the sidewalk and then trying to cross a street while absorbed in reading a book is just a recipe for disaster. When you're staring at a book in your hands, you don't exactly notice things like the light changing, people shouting at you, or a bright red sports car tearing around the corner and right at you.

The only thing that saved Spencer's life was the fast reflexes of the man driving the car. There was a squeal of brakes that jerked Spencer out of his thoughts in just enough time for the car to just clip him, sending him spinning and flying down to the ground. All of it became a bit of a blur for a moment there. The next clear memory Spencer had was of lying on the hard cement with a startlingly beautiful man kneeling by him looking so sad and sorry. The guy leaned over him and one of his hands touched Spencer's cheek, a gentle sort of gesture, and his sunglasses slid down his nose just enough for Spencer to see the most beautiful pair of eyes he'd ever had the pleasure of losing himself in. Whatever was said to him, he had no idea. He barely remembered saying anything himself. He could've sworn his thoughts stayed behind his lips. But Remy told him later how he'd smiled and mumbled "Eyes like yours shouldn't be so sad."

Cheesy, right? Spencer had no idea whether he'd actually said that or not. For the most part, he blamed it on the head trauma. Remy liked to say he was just that sweet, even half out of his mind.

An ambulance had showed up and Spencer ended up taking his trip to the hospital. That was where life between them really got a chance to start. Spencer's little trip in front of the car ended up with him having a broken arm, his left one, a few bruised ribs, a deeply bruised him, and a concussion. They kept him in the hospital for a full day before discharging him, and they only discharged him then because Remy fast talked the nursing staff and got Spence released into his car, claiming he was a friend of the family with permission from Spencer's mother to care for him, seeing as how he was a minor. It was a smooth line of bullshit and Spencer was impressed.

That was the rocky start to one of the best friendships, which turned into the most important relationship in Spencer's life. The only relationship for him. He was only fifteen at the time and neither knew how old Remy was. As he was known to say, there was no note pinned to him when he was dumped out on the streets. All he had was an estimate of his age and that was it. They figured him close to Spencer's age, give or take a few years. His ID, though, listed him as nineteen. Well, one of them did.

By the time Spencer turned sixteen, the two moved beyond friendship and into dating. Just shy of his seventeenth birthday, he moved in to Remy's loft apartment.

And now, at almost twenty one years old, it was gone. Five and a half of the most beautiful years of his life, finished. Done. All because of one horrendous moment.

Everything started for them in a hospital. Funny that it should end there as well.

The morning had started so well. Spencer woke in their giant bed upstairs with the wonderful feel of Remy wrapped around him. Or, well, over him. It was one of Spencer's favorite sensations. While he liked to cuddle up to Remy, to fall asleep on his chest or to just lie there and nap, there was nothing he loved more than waking up with that firm body pressing down over top of his. Somehow in their sleep they always managed to end up with Spencer lying underneath Remy. He loved it there. Who wouldn't? There was just something so wonderful about it. There, he felt warm. He felt safe and sheltered. Surrounded completely by his partner in a way that should've been smothering, yet wasn't. It was perfect.

He enjoyed it even more so that morning after the absence of Remy in their bed the past few days. His partner had been out traveling, working. Working. That always made Spencer want to chuckle a little. He knew what Remy was doing. They used euphemisms like 'working', but he knew. Back when they were still just friends, Remy had made it clear who and what he was. He'd used the fact that he was a thief as something to try and deter Spencer from wanting to be with him. He'd thought to scare him away with it. He'd been wrong. Spencer didn't care. Well, okay, in a sense he did. But only in the sense that he didn't want something to happen to Remy. He didn't want him hurt, didn't want him gone. But the actual thieving? Surprisingly, he was okay with that. It wasn't like Remy just strolled down the street and stole from everyone in sight. He had rules. He had standards.

He'd been gone for three days from this last job and Spencer was thrilled to have him back home. When he shifted his weight around, just enough to wake Remy up, he proceeded to show the man just how thrilled he was. Their lovemaking when Remy had come home the night before had been fast and hard, a reconnection after time apart. This morning it was warm and slow, a loving that went straight through every inch of Spencer, lighting him up like nothing else ever had. He had no idea that it would be their last time together. Later, he would wish he'd known. Then he could've made it last longer. Could've tried to absorb all the loving touches in hopes of keeping the cold at bay in all the lonely nights to come.

Spencer had no school that day, thankfully. All he wanted was to spend the day with Remy. When he shyly voiced that, Remy gave him that blazingly bright smile and the love in his eyes was overwhelming. "I aint letting y' outta dis bed, mon amour." He'd promised huskily.

Of course, that plan didn't work out the best. Their stomachs eventually decided that food was needed and there wasn't really anything to eat in the house. About the third time Spencer's stomach rumbled was when Remy finally laughingly gave up. He threw on some clothes, grabbed his keys, gave Spencer a kiss that made his head spin, and he left to go get some food. While he was gone, Spencer went to the shower, wanting to be cleaned up by the time he got back.

He was still in the shower when he heard footsteps outside the bathroom. Figuring that Remy had gotten back quicker than planned, he thought nothing of it. Not until the bathroom door opened. A hint of blush hit his cheeks—still so shy sometimes, even after all these years—yet with a smile on his lips, he turned toward the shower curtain, lips parting in preparation to tease his partner. He never got the chance. A feeling of wrongness hit him only seconds before the shower curtain was yanked open wide. Spencer barely had time to blink. He definitely had no time to fight. All he had was just enough time to see the snarling, furious looking man standing there, and then a hand shot out and grabbed him, yanking him out of the shower.

Instantly he tried to fight. Really, he did! But this guy moved fast and he flung Spencer out the open bathroom door and sent him crashing down onto the floor. Even as he tried to get up, the guy was on him again, grabbing him and throwing him towards the wall where he hit a shelf and knocked the books down on himself. Dazed, he still tried to fight when he was grabbed once more. He tried to make his body function enough to fight, to scream, to do something! But he was pathetically weak against the bastard that had him. It was embarrassing, how easily he was subdued. A blow to the head had him reeling. By the time his head straightened out, there was a gag in his mouth and something hard on one of his wrists. Still, he tried to fight, using his whole body. It just earned him another blow that left him dizzy and close to passing out. He was only vaguely aware of the thing on his wrist moving and of his other wrist being drawn up as well. Terrified, in pain, and weak as could be, he tried to jerk free. It only ended up making the thing on his wrist tighter.

When the man finally pulled away, Spencer was left standing right underneath the loft, his arms above his head with a pair of handcuffs running around one of the poles of the upper railing, the ends attached to Spencer's wrists. It left him standing on his tiptoes, trussed up with no way to get away from the psychotic bastard in front of him.

Terror ran through every inch of him. It raced along his skin, through his very marrow. Cold eyes stared at him and in them, Spencer could see the enjoyment, the pleasure that the man got out of doing this. The sadistic glee at having his prey right there in front of him. He stalked forward, managing to make even his walk threatening, and when he grabbed hold of Spencer's chin, Spencer couldn't stop the muffled squeak of fear that slipped free. "Ya got some fight in ya." The guy growled out at him. He sounded almost…approving. A low chuckle slid free from him that sent chills down Spencer's spine. He wanted to jerk his face free from that touch. He wanted Remy to come home. Oh, God, he wanted Remy to come home now. But no one came. There was only him and this, this monster in front of him.

The hand on his chin tightened until one sharp claw cut into the skin on his jawline. A whimper broke free before being ruthlessly shoved down. He would not give him the satisfaction of making him cry out. The hell if he would!

That approving light in the guy's eyes grew even brighter. "Tougher than ya look, eh?" He grinned, showing sharp fangs. "Oh, I'd have a blast breaking you. Yer such a pretty little thing." His other hand came up to Spencer's bare hip, tracing down the still damp skin. When Spencer cursed behind his gag and tried to jerk away, the guy just laughed. Then he grabbed Spencer hip and five sharp points pressed into his skin, drawing just a little blood, and Spencer froze. Those icy eyes got a little closer. Spencer froze, wanting to pull back but afraid of what the claws could do. Afraid that he was about to die. Please, please, I don't want to die! "Pretty and feisty, such a combo." The guy's voice dropped to a low, growling sort of purr, full of threat and promise and so many other things that made Spencer shiver again. His tongue flicked out, tasting the blood that still dripped from Spencer's chin. He growled at the flavor. Then, abruptly, he let go. Completely.

There was something like regret in his eyes as he looked Spencer over. His smile never faded, though. "Too bad fer us, I aint got time fer that. But one day, pretty. One day you and I might get to play. But right now, I need ya to deliver a message fer me."

Spencer wanted to ask him what the message was. He wanted to tell him he'd do anything, say anything, just please don't kill him. He wanted to plead for his life while at the same time he wanted to tell the bastard to go to hell. But with the gag in, none of the words came past his lips. Instead, they flashed through his eyes. It only served to make the bastard laugh.

With a grace that was terrifying, the guy flowed forward. Only this time he didn't grab Spencer's chin. He grabbed a fist full of his hair, yanking his head back, and he moved to press right up against Spencer's right side. Leaning in close, he put his lips right by Spencer's ear and he breathed out. "Yer little toy here fucked up. Thought he could just walk away without any consequences. Ya tell the little punk this is his warning, or next time, I might not go so easy on ya. Next time I'll take ya with me, keep ya fer a few days before I bring ya back." His hand went to Spencer's genitals and he grabbed, fondling them roughly, chuckling at the whimper of fear and pain it earned him. "Tell him that fer me. Ya got that, pretty?"

Spencer tried to nod as best as he could with that fist in his hair. His chest was heaving with the effort to breath like this.

A low, husky laugh tickled his ear. "Good boy." He growled out. "But, just to make sure ya both know just how serious I am…" He lifted his free hand and brought it to rest over Spencer's chest, five sharp claws pressing in. Before Spencer could blink, before he could even draw in a breath, those claws cut a deep path from left shoulder to right hip. Five long, deep slashes, ripping his skin open as smoothly as any knife. There was one split second of shock, a moment of numbness, and then agony exploded through him. Even through the gag, Spencer's scream echoed in the air around him.

He didn't notice that the hand in his hair was gone. Fire was spreading over his chest and abdomen, burning and consuming him. Through it, he felt a swath of heat over them. To his horror, when he looked down he saw a tongue running over the cuts, licking his blood, tasting him. Another of those low, growling laughs echoed in the air around him and Spencer screamed again as sharp teeth bit down into his hip. His whole body jerked to try and get away, only succeeding in making the pain even stronger. It coated his world, glazed his vision. He never heard as the bastard left him there. Everything in his world revolved around the pain. So sharp, so all consuming. It was too much. He could feel the blood running from him, down his legs, dripping on to the floor. His heart was pounding in his chest like a drum.

How long he dangled there, he had no idea. The pain and blood loss had him dizzy, almost like he was floating there. Shock was settling in. Spencer didn't hear the door open, but he heard the curses that echoed inside the loft. A hand suddenly touched his cheek and Spencer mustered up the strength to jerk back, a low whimper coming from behind the gag. It took him a moment to realize that someone was talking to him, and a moment more to recognize that voice. "…right here, bébé. I'm right here. It's just me, Remy. Open y'r eyes fo' me, mon amour. Let me see dose beautiful eyes of y'rs, c'mon now…"

Remy? Spencer breathed the word out, forgetting that his voice was blocked by the cloth tied over his mouth. He blinked open his eyes and could've wept for joy at seeing those red and black orbs in front of his. Did, in fact, start silently weeping. Remy was here. Everything was going to be okay now. Remy was here. He'd keep him safe. Oh, God.

As if reading Spencer's mind, Remy reached up and tugged the gag off Spencer's mouth until it hung loose around his neck. His gaze was bright with a fear deeper than Spencer had ever seen. "Just hang on, cher. I'll get y' down and we'll get an ambulance. Y' just hang on fo' me."

Now that his mouth was free, Spencer croaked out the only word that mattered. "Remy."

"Dat's right, it's me. I'm here now." Remy reassured him. He was stretched up and Spencer abruptly realized that Remy was reaching for the cuffs. "Hang on, Spencer. Dis is gon' hurt. Je suis désolé, cher."

There was no chance for Spencer to ask what he was talking about. The cuff freed from around one wrist and Spencer's body slumped down, freed from its restraints, and the pain came roaring back so strongly there was no way he stood a chance against it. It sucked him down into the darkness he could no longer fight.

When he came to again, he was lying on something hard and there were strange hands on him, poking at him and pushing, making the pain scream. There was a babble of voices over his head and emotions were pushing in at him with each touch to his skin. A low moan pulled from him and he tried to jerk away from the strange hands. He had to get away! He had to get free!

"Hold him!" Someone was shouting. More hands were there, gripping him, pushing him down, and he cried out against it.

Then another pair of hands was there and Spencer knew this touch. Knew it even when he knew nothing else but the pain. He locked on to that touch and forced himself to stop fighting. Remy was here.

That low, familiar voice came right by his ear, full of love and strength. "Y'r safe, Spencer. I'm right here and y'r safe now. Y' gotta stop fighting and let de doctors work on y', d'accord? Trust me to keep y' safe here. I'll watch over y'."

Those reassuring words washed through him and the fight slowly drained out of his body. This time Spencer let the darkness come. He embraced it, knowing that he was leaving his body in safe hands.

The next time he woke, there was only one hand touching him. One hand, wrapped around his. He was lying on something softer this time and the bustle of noise was gone. Just a steady beep from somewhere nearby. The pain was mostly gone, too. He felt kind of pleasantly numb. For a bit he just laid there and reveled in the loss of pain. But need finally pushed its way forward and he carefully turned his head towards the side where he felt his hand being held. When no pain came, he slowly opened his eyes. It took a few moments for him to blink past the brightness of the lights and for his eyes to adjust. He wasn't surprised by what he found.

There'd been no doubt in his mind who the hand in his belonged to. Remy had a chair pushed right up alongside Spencer's hospital bed and was curled up in it, sound asleep. One arm was resting on the bed, that hand joined with Spencer's, and his head was lying on his arm like a pillow. His legs were drawn up in the chair with his other arm tucked down in his lap. That long, shaggy hair that Spencer so loved to touch was loose, half obscuring his face. Any other time and Spencer might've just let him sleep. He would've just sat there and watched and waited for him to wake up. But even in sleep, there were stress lines around Remy's eyes.

It took a few tries for Spencer to work past whatever was still making him groggy. Finally, he got his fingers to twitch, ever so lightly squeezing Remy's hand.

That was all it took. Just the light squeeze of his hand and Remy's head shot up off the bed and his eyes flew open. He took in Spencer's face with one look and the relief on his face was almost instant. "Spencer!" In a flash he was unfolded from his chair and standing beside the bed. His one hand stayed tight over Spencer's while his other one came up to gently cup Spencer's cheek. "Oh, merci Dieu. Merci Dieu."

One corner of Spencer's mouth quirked up, the best he could do for a smile. He didn't have strength for much, but he did manage to turn his face a little into Remy's hand. The pain would return later, he knew. With it would come clarity. For now, he was content to float on his little numb cloud and simply relish in the safety and love of his partner's touch. For now, it would be enough.

Remy leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Spencer's as they'd done countless times before. His hand slipped off Spencer's cheek, back to the back of his neck, and he just held him there, their eyes locked together, their breath shared between them. It was a touch that, for Spencer, was more intimate than any kiss. For a few long minutes they just stayed there together like that. Spencer let himself drift in the colors of Remy's eyes. The glowing red, circled there in a sea of black. So easy to lose himself in there. To let everything else go and just be adrift in the color and emotion that floated in those depths.

It was Remy who broke the silence first. "I thought I'd lost y'." His words were just a soft whisper, barely a breath against Spencer's lips. They were packed with so much heartache that Spencer felt his own heart give a throb in sympathy. Remy shuddered out a soft breath and his hand tightened slightly on Spencer's neck. "Y'd lost so much blood by de time I got dere; I thought I was too late. Merde. I aint never been s' scared in m' whole life."

Spencer wasn't sure if he could make his dry throat work well enough to say what he wanted to say. He sucked on his tongue to try and build up a little moisture. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low croak, but it was there. "I…love you."

"Dieu, Spencer. I love y' too. Je t'aime, mon amour." Remy leaned in and let their lips brush together softly.

That was all Spencer needed to hear. He sighed a little and smiled. His eyelids got heavy again and he couldn't quite seem to keep them open. With a soft sigh, he slipped into sleep.

Remy was still with him when he woke again. A doctor was there, too. This time, Spencer was more aware, his mind more alert, and the cloud of medication wasn't as heavy. He could feel again and he could think. In a way, he didn't feel like that was a good thing. He didn't want to feel. Didn't want to remember the terror that had gripped him, or the pain that had been so much more than anything he'd ever known. He didn't want to think about that tight hand in his hair or the sharp claws that ripped through his skin like it was nothing. The feel of the doctor's hands on him had his breathing speeding up and his heart pounding a little. The only thing that let him get through it was Remy's constant presence at his side. He kept him calm through the doctor's exam and took care of him after, giving him water to wet his throat. No one mentioned his injuries right away and for that, Spencer was grateful. He didn't want to think about them.

His reprieve wasn't meant to be, though. Really, he should've known better. Maybe the drugs were affecting him more than he thought, or maybe the pain that was growing a little more was making him stupid. Not only was he out of it enough that he didn't even see Remy's questions coming, he was out of it enough that he actually answered him. When Remy sat on the edge of his bed and asked him "What happened, Spencer?" in that whiskey warm voice of his, low and kind and full of all the love in the world, he actually found himself answering. He found himself telling, well, everything. Every little bit of it. Hell, the words practically poured out of him. Like they'd just been waiting to be free. Holding tight to Remy's hand, he told him everything from hearing the bathroom door open, to the final bite against his hip, to what little he remembered of Remy's arrival. All of it spilled from him in a torrent of words. When it was done, he didn't even notice that he was crying, didn't notice the hitch to his breathing. Not until Remy was shushing him and trying to calm him down. He pulled one of his many handkerchiefs from his pocket and wiped at Spencer's face, murmuring lowly to him. "Shh now, cher. Hush now. Y'r fine, don't y' worry none. Y'r okay now."

"I'm sorry." Spencer whispered. He closed his eyes, trying to fight back the tears. He'd been taught early on that tears were a weakness. He fought now to keep them from falling and was failing miserably at it.

The handkerchief brushed over his cheek again. "Hush. Y' aint got noth'in t' apologize fo', Spencer." Remy paused and he made a soft sound of pain that had Spencer quickly opening his eyes once more. He found Remy staring at him, heartache in his eyes. "I'm de one dat should be apologizing, cher. If it weren't fo' me, dis never would've happened to y'."

Spencer knew he could argue that point. A huge chunk of him wanted to. He wanted to tell Remy anything that would take away that guilt and pain. But he didn't. Neither one of them were stupid. Lies wouldn't make them feel better. The fact was, this attack had happened as a way to get to Remy. A way to warm him. There was no way they could deny that. But, though he couldn't tell him it wasn't his fault, he could tell him something else that was equally important. "I don't blame you."

"Y' should." Remy spat out. He curled his hand into a fist, crumpling the handkerchief. "I almost got y' killed. Y' should be furious wit' me."

"But I'm not."

"But y' should be!" Bowing his head, Remy let his hair hide his face, keeping his oh-so-expressive eyes hidden from view. "I never meant fo' dis t' happen t' y', Spencer. I thought dat part of m' life was over wit'. I thought I was done wit' him."

There was only one person that Remy had ever spoken of with that mixture of hurt/anger/fear. Only one person incited that reaction in him. He'd told Spencer about the man in one of the dark nights where nightmares had ripped the Cajun from his sleep.

Sinister.

That name echoed through Spencer's mind and suddenly, other things became clear. He'd barely had a time to think about anything since the attack first happened. Now things were coming in clearer. "That was Creed." He said without thinking about it.

Remy didn't even look up. "Oui."

Jesus. "But…you haven't worked for Sinister since…"

"Since de tunnels." Remy whispered achingly. "He's been tryin' t' get me back in ever since and I keep turning him down. Guess he aint askin' no more."

The resigned way that Remy said that sent horror spiraling through Spencer. The way Remy said it, it was so resigned, like there was no fight in him. Like there was no point in fighting. Spencer's breath hitched in his chest and he felt his eyes go wide. His heart picked up speed. "Remy…"

The panic in his tone had Remy's head snapping up. He took in Spencer's wide eyes, his fast breathing, and everything else was pushed to the side. "Shh, shh." He cupped Spencer's face and stroked his thumbs over his cheeks. "Breathe, Spencer. Y'r just gon' hurt y'rself like dis. C'mon now, breathe fo' me. Careful breaths, in and out. Y' can do it. It's okay. It's gon' be okay. Shh. Everyt'ing's gon' be okay.

Spencer let those words work their magic on him and soothe down the panic attack that was trying to take him over. He let Remy reassure him with touch and words. But inside, the panic never fully faded away. Because, when Remy had first looked up at him, Spencer had seen something in his eyes. He'd felt something in his emotions. And, he knew. In his heart, he knew.

For the rest of Spencer's hospital visit, Remy left his side only when forced. He charmed all the doctors and nurses and convinced them to let him stay even when visiting hours were over. He kept up his vigil at Spencer's bedside and supported him through everything. When the cops came to question him, Remy stuck by his side, saying not a word as Spencer bold faced lied to them. He stayed silent as Spencer told them that he didn't remember anything after Remy left the apartment to go get food until the moment he woke up here. Without exchanging a word, the two were in agreement that this was something that needed to be kept away from police.

Remy stayed by his side, persuading him to eat when his appetite failed, holding him and calming him when the nightmares struck at night. He was there to take over for the nurse when it was time for Spencer's sponge bath, teasing him for how red his cheeks had gotten at just the suggestion of the woman cleaning him. And he was there the first time that Spencer went into the bathroom and removed his bandages to see the damage done. He held Spencer through the panic attack that hit at the sight of those five long gashes that ran from shoulder to hip, gashes that would leave scars so that he would have to remember what happened every single time he looked at his body.

In every way that counted, he was the perfect partner. He kept Spencer going, kept him sane, and supported him through it all. But underneath it all there was a thin thread of something else, something off, and though they both ignored it, both knew it was there.

It wasn't until his last day in the hospital, the day he got to go home, that things finally came to a head. Remy had been forced to leave earlier, to go home and shower and grab some clean clothes for Spencer to wear. When he came back, he helped him dress, the stitches preventing Spencer from doing much bending or twisting. He even squatted down and put his shoes on for him.

But when he straightened back up, their eyes locked and Spencer felt his stomach lurch. The muscles in his body went tight as if in preparation for a blow. The thing they'd been ignoring was now sitting between them, this chasm that seemed to get wider with every second that passed. Spencer clenched the hem of his shirt and stared up those couple inches to meet Remy's eyes. How he found his voice, he never knew. The words just fell, unbidden, past his lips. "You're not coming home."

Remy didn't flinch from the words, didn't look away. "Non."

This can't be happening. This can't be happening. Spencer tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. "I don't want you to go."

"Je sais." The flash of pain in his eyes said he did know and that this hurt him too. But he didn't move. He didn't step towards Spencer, or open his arms, or tell him it was going to be okay. He just stayed where he was and the chasm grew a little wider. "He's not gon' stop comin' after me, Spencer. He's fixated on me fo' some reason. If I stay here, he'll use y' against me. He'll come after y' again, just like Creed promised y'. I can't let that happen. I need t' go."

Pride almost kept the words locked behind his lips. This was more important than any pride, though. This was his heart. His life. "Take me with you."

The tightness to Remy's face softened ever so slightly at those soft words. He shook his head. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because y've got a life here. Y'r workin' hard on y'r degrees, on buildin' y'rself something. Y'r so damn smart, cher. Y' can do anyt'ing wit' y'r life. I can't ask y' t' t'row it all away t' run and hide wit' me. Dat's no life fo' y'."

"I don't care." Spencer insisted. I want to be with you! His heart cried out.

"I do." Two simple words, packed with so much conviction. Remy drew himself up and there was stubbornness written in every line of him. He wasn't going to be swayed from this. The man was a stubborn bastard, of that there had never been any doubt. When it came to Spencer's health and safety, nothing could change his mind. He wouldn't back down on this.

Spencer had never understood what writes meant when they said someone's heart broke. His logical mind had never been able to understand that. A heart couldn't break. He never understood it. Not until he stood in that chilly hospital room and realized that the most important thing in his life was going to walk out that door and there was not a damn thing he could do to stop it. For the first time, he knew the meaning of a broken heart. A heart could break. The pain of those claws ripping through his skin was nothing compared to the pain inside of him right now. He wanted to beg Remy not to leave him. He wanted to beg him to stay here, with him, or to take him with. He wanted to cry and plead and do anything in the world to make him change his mind. Yet when he opened his mouth, the only words that came out were "I love you."

"Ah, Spencer." For one brief moment, the chasm between them vanished and Remy was right there. He was cupping Spencer's cheeks and cradling his face in that way of his that always made Spencer feel like he was something precious. Those gorgeous eyes were locked on his and there was so much love in them that Spencer swore he could've drowned in it. "Mon amour. Mon cœur. Je t'aime aussi." Bending his head, Remy pressed a kiss against Spencer's lips. A kiss of love. A kiss goodbye.

When Remy pulled away, Spencer stayed frozen, staring up at him in silence, his heart there in his eyes, all those words he was never able to say written clearly. He stayed there as Remy let go of him. And he stayed there as the man turned and walked away. He didn't move, didn't speak, until Remy was almost out the door. Then the words burst from him, so soft he wasn't sure Remy would even hear him. "I'm yours." He saw Remy pause, saw him free half out the door, and he hurried on. "No matter how much time passes, I'm always going to be yours. If you ever want to come home, that door's always going to be open for you."

Remy stayed still one moment longer. Then he was out the door and it felt like everything in Spencer's life went with him. Standing there alone in that hospital room, a part of Spencer died inside.

Everything started for them in a hospital, and everything ended there for them as well.

Spencer never went back to their loft. When he left the hospital, he put himself up in a motel, unable to bring himself to go back to the home they'd shared and the place where he'd lost everything. He paid a friend to collect his things for him and then he let the landlord know they wouldn't be back. Whatever was left there, he told the man to keep.

A part of Spencer kept hoping that Remy would come home to him. But inside, he knew.

Two months after he left the hospital, Spencer was approached by Jason Gideon.

Two days later, he was on his way to the Academy.

This one shot came to me the other day and refused to let me go. :/ I had to write it out! I know, I know, so not a happy one. But let me tell you, there was no way I could get away with NOT writing it. Plus, the idea for the future story, where they do end up happy, is now bouncing around in my head and begging to be put down. I've even outlined it a little already. Squee! So, my little sugar bees, would you like to see the story that comes after this one shot? Is it one you'd be interested in? And is there anything you'd want to see happen, or ways you'd want to see them get back together? I'm very much open to suggestions!

I hope you enjoyed this, my lovelies!