Okay, I'll say this right now, I have not finished season four. I've just been listening to The Night We Met too much lately and I really, really miss Hannah. I also miss when Clay was the best character, not that I'm salty (I'm really salty). So this is a chance for them both to get their happy ending. Please enjoy!

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She wasn't supposed to wake up.

But here she was. Hannah stared up at the white walls of the hospital she'd been brought to. Vaguely, she wondered where he plan had failed. It had been crafted to perfection; she knew Tony wouldn't want to get mixed up in her drama. She knew her parents had been really busy with the store lately. She knew Clay would duck his head and stay out of it, as per usual.

She knew no one else would give a shit.

So what had gone wrong? Why was she still here?

Fuck, she didn't want to be here. Nothing could ever fucking go her way.

Hannah sighed, weakly raising her right wrist. The stitches were still fresh and a part of her wanted to tear them out, to release the blood that was still trapped within her. It was almost as though it was begging to gush out of her, like it had in the bathtub.

"Hannah, honey?"

Oh yeah, her mom was there. She'd almost forgotten she wasn't alone. Or maybe she hadn't and maybe it just hurt to look at her mother's red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained face. Hannah forced herself to look at the woman. "Yeah?" The word came out a lot less gentle than she'd intended. She couldn't do anything right, could she?

Mom looked like she was going to burst with tears any minute. "Why?" she managed through an obviously closed up throat.

Hannah took a deep breath, trying to keep her own tears at bay. This was the last thing she had wanted. She hadn't wanted to hurt Mom or Dad or Tony or... Helmet. But damn, it was all too much. From Justin Foley to Bryce fucking Walker, she couldn't take it. And, unfortunately, the bad outweighed the good.

Of course, she wasn't supposed to have survived. Now everything was a goddamn mess.

So, she settled on, "It's complicated."

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When Clay got the call, his heart stopped.

He was peddling over to Crestmont General Hospital before he could even register what he was doing. Of course, the hospital was about forty-five minutes away and it wasn't like his bike was very fast. Especially since it was so old. Still, that didn't stop him from trying, his heart in his throat as he frantically urged his feet to move faster.

Luckily, a similar bright red Mustang met him halfway.

Tony rolled down the window, his dark eyes shadowed with something heavy. Something he couldn't quite name. "Get in," instructed the Hispanic.

Clay did so, putting his bike in the back and clambering into the front seat. His friend sped off as soon as the door was closed. "How did you know how to find me?" he asked after a while.

Tony only glanced at him. "I'm the one who called you," he reminded him. "I figured any decent friend would want to get the hospital as soon as possible." He seemed distracted, like there was something he was hiding.

Clay sighed, his right hand running across the dashboard. "She... hurt herself?" he questioned. The words sounded wrong in association with Hannah Baker. She never let anything bother her. Half the school had labeled her and she'd kept her head up. Her strength was something he'd always admired about her.

Why would she do this?

Tony's hands tightened on the wheel. "Yeah," he replied, his voice hoarse. "It looks like that's the story." He was hiding something, Clay was sure of it. What did Tony know?

Clay fixed him with a hard stare. "Why?" he demanded. The lump in his throat wouldn't go away. That seemed to be the question. Why would Hannah hurt herself? Why did Tony know more than he was letting on? Why did it feel like something bigger was going on?

Tony paused for half a second before pulling into the parking lot. His eyes tore away from the road to look at Clay. "That's something she has to tell you herself," he replied cryptically. He said nothing more as they both climbed out of the Mustang and ventured toward the hospital.

A myriad of questions danced on Clay's tongue, but died out as they entered the building.

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It was hard to believe she wasn't dead.

She felt like she was. Her whole body was numb, though that was probably the pain killers. Apparently, she'd needed a blood transfusion before they'd stitched her up. According to the doctor, she'd been lucky. A minute later and they would have lost her. Right, lucky. Feeling her heart pound in her rib cage and her wrists burn, she didn't feel so lucky.

Hannah wasn't naive. She wasn't under the impression that death would have granted her happiness or catharsis. But feeling nothing at all had seemed so much more appealing than the alternative. She'd rather have been six feet under than walking through those damned halls, people pointing and whispering. Than having to walk around, 'slut' practically written on her forehead.

Than having to pass Bryce Walker in the halls everyday.

She had to admit, though it had been a collection of things, Bryce's assault on her had been what pushed suicide into her head. Compared to Jessica and Alex ditching her or Courtney spreading rumors about her, it was almost as though the jock had stabbed her soul directly, twisting the knife until she had no more blood to bleed.

Though, the pain she had stirred in her parents was a direct attack on her heart.

Mom and Dad had made it on the Reasons Why Not list. Maybe they weren't the most attentive and maybe they were a bit careless sometimes, but they loved her. She was sure of this. Even if Dad had made a mistake. Even if Mom could be flippant.

They loved her. And she had hurt them.

Her reasons why not. Mom, Dad, Helmet, someday, maybe... It was so hard to see a future from the dark cloud that constantly hung over her. But New York was waiting for her, wasn't it? If she could do something with her life, publish something worth reading. Love a daughter (or son) of her own unconditionally.

Oh look at her. Dreaming of someday when she certainly had no future. Especially not now. She wasn't supposed to have survived and now that she had, everything was messed up.

Just another string of rumors to add to her mill.

"Hannah?"

Bile rose in her throat at the voice. Slowly, not quite believing her ears, Hannah turned to meet the lovely, sky blue eyes of Clay Jensen standing in the threshold. God, the kid looked even paler than usual, his eyes wide and terrified. For her or of her, she was unsure.

She had done that.

A little behind him stood Tony. His brown eyes were guilty, though she wasn't sure why. Tony had almost nothing to do with any of this, neither a reason why or why not. He floated somewhere in the middle, an ally she could call on, though not one she could always rely on. He stayed out of business that wasn't his, how could she fault him for that?

She couldn't.

But god, the tapes. She'd left them with Tony in hopes that he would make sure everyone included got them. She had hoped that in doing so, she would be able to prevent another person from going through this. To steel them from the charms of the Justin's of the world. To protect them from the careless cruelty Bryce's of the world.

She'd wanted her death to change people, to change Liberty and high schools everywhere. But she was alive. And now things were even more fucked up.

But Hannah forced a smile on her face. "Hey, Helmet," she greeted. "Long time no see." She remembered the last time she had talked to Clay. He had complimented her on her haircut. Something random, but something that had put a smile on her face nonetheless. It had been delivered in such a Helmet way, awkward and stuttered, but it had meant the world to her.

She'd been content, knowing that they would be the last words she heard before she died.

Apparently, though, that wasn't the case.

Clay stepped toward her, but didn't get far. He stopped just beyond the door frame. Horror was etched onto every inch of his face and it was making her feel even worse.

Hannah sighed. "I- You weren't supposed to see this," she stuttered out. She cringed at her own words, aware of how pathetic they sounded.

Suddenly, Clay was seated in one of the stiff waiting chairs. He stared at her for a moment, utter helplessness emitting from him. He had always reminded her of a little mouse, hiding from the ferocious cats that were the students of Liberty High. Given the chance, they would tear him apart limb from limb.

Which was why he ducked his head and stayed out of it. Although, being friends with Jeff Atkins had helped. Jeff had been a good- a great- friend and had kept the assholes- sorry, jocks- away from Clay.

Anger welled inside her. It was because of Sheri that Clay had lost that. The one person who deserved every good thing and he'd had to suffer the lost of his best friend. But, then again, could she really talk? She'd nearly done the same when she'd cut her wrists open.

That horror on his face? She'd caused it.

Clay reached toward her, presumably for her hand. He hesitated- she didn't blame him, that was the side that had the IV connected to it- but then his fingers curled around her hers. For the first time in months, her heart felt warm in her chest.

"Helmet," she whispered. Hell, she had missed the gentleness of his touch. Had longed for the tenderness in his gaze. That night at Jessica's party had been a night of regret all around. She often wondered how different things would have been had she just let him in. Maybe Jeff wouldn't have died. Maybe she wouldn't have ended up in that hot tub.

He didn't say anything, but his bottom lip was trembling. God, he looked like he was going to cry. She hoped he didn't. If Clay of all people started to cry, she would follow right after him. And that would mean feeling something.

Hannah was sick of feeling. Feeling led to pain.

But with Clay... it was often the opposite.

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Every inch of Clay hurt.

Seeing Hannah- aloof, resilient, lively Hannah Baker- so pale and... apathetic hit him directly in the chest. It then spread through his veins to every inch of his being. Why had she done this? How could she have done this? How could he have let this happen? Her ocean blue eyes which were usually so full of light were now dark and dull.

What had happened to her?

"Hannah," began Clay, but stopped. What was he going to say to her? Ask her why she had tried to kill herself? Real eloquent, Jensen. No, he obviously couldn't do that, the last thing he wanted to do was upset her. He glanced back at Tony, but the Hispanic was looking at them both with an unreadable expression. Briefly, his stony gaze flickered and Clay wondered what that was about.

Hannah's smile was weak and didn't come close to reaching her eyes. "I'm sorry you have to see me like this," she said softly. Her thumb gently ran over his hand in a way he was sure was meant to calm him down.

It didn't. Not really.

"What happened to you?" he croaked before he could stop himself. Nothing about this situation made sense.

Or did it? He racked his brain to the past few months. How Hannah had been labeled as the class slut. How she seemed to change friends like clothes. How people shunned and spurned her without a second thought. How every time it happened, it left her a little quieter and a little sadder. And he had never done anything about it.

It was all adding up and he felt like a fool for not noticing sooner.

Hannah Baker had almost died and it was all his fault.

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I'm actually counting on this story being pretty long, if enough people like it. If not, I'll leave it as is. Anyway, I hope you liked it and please review!