A/N Hey guys so me and my friend decided to write a fanfic together. Her user name is Lizrocks19 and she will be writing Adam's p.o.v i'm writing Fiona's. Review and we'll love you forever. It takes place in the past. Adam is the son of a lord and Fiona is a Baroness. Please give it a chance.

Adam

I stare at the casket before me with an odd sense of surrealism. Everyone has wished to see their own funeral to see who would show up and mourn; if your friends would be there, your family would cry, everything else. I had never thought I'd be so conscious of everything that was going on. Actually, I had never thought I'd be alive when I attended my own funeral.

Yes, the funeral is for me. Well, who I was. I am – was – Gracie Torres, beloved daughter of Lord and Lady Torres. She was something from a fairy tale. Pale skin, shining eyes, always smiling. The townsfolk screamed with joy every time Gracie would step out onto the street, gracing the world with her presence. Such a pretty girl, everyone would remark. But I did not want to be a pretty girl. There was a part of me whom always wanted to be let loose.

Adam. I had decided to name him that after my cousin, who lives a few towns away. Of course, it came to no shock to my brother, Drew, when I told him that I didn't wish to continue on as Gracie. He always suspected since in the middle of the night we would run around Torres Manor playing sports. However, my parents nearly fainted when I told them. They told me that I could not walk around as a male, that I must continue my life as Gracie. I told them that I would do what I wanted despite their punishment. Finally, we settled that Gracie would die from the grippe.

I had to stay inside for a week while Drew spread rumors of Gracie's illness like wildfire. It gave me time to practice my speech and walk. I got help from my personal servant Eli, who told me the manors a man must have. After a while, I was almost perfect. Still, it was well enough to go on as a male. My parents made the announcement yesterday that their daughter was deceased. Now I am known as Adam Torres, the orphaned nephew of Lord and Lady Torres. They took me in after my family died, also from the grippe.

It was the perfect plan, for my mother has not spoken to her brother in ages. They live far away and no one knows what Adam looks like. It would be easy to say I was him because, with my hair cut and in men clothes, I look like a Torres, but not as close as Grace.

My eyes come to rest on my family. My mother's eyes are rimmed red from tears along with my father's. I know that they are real, for they are mourning the loss of my other half as much – if not more – than the rest of the town. Grace looked just like my mother. The same fair brown hair with her father's piercing blue eyes. Since I had stayed indoors, my hair has grown dark.

Grimly, I take my seat beside my brother. Drew, on the other hand, is sitting there, face swiped of emotion. It's not from lack of affection; rather that he is just a terrible liar.

There are sobs from every corner of the church. Sniffles and snorts make their own sickening song. My gut twists for them. Gracie was the light of the town and I had just killed her. For what reason other than my own selfish desire and longing to be a man. The hot, stinging tears that fall onto my lap are real, for although Gracie is dead, I still feel the pain of her admirers.

Four burly men pick the empty coffin up by the rods sticking from it and we all rise. Eli peels off the wall and comes over to my side. As always, he's wearing black. For a servant, he dresses well. He has black pants and a black coat. Under the coat is a silver vest with a black ascot. I move to give him my hand so he can help me up but he shakes his black haired head ever so slightly.

I curse myself mentally, dropping my hand. Men get themselves up. As we walk outside, Eli puts the umbrella over my head, as he stands in the rain. The water drops trail from his black hair to his green eyes before passing his crooked mouth and dropping on his shirt. I feel guilt again, but do not make the move to allow Eli under. Gracie would have, but Adam is rumored to be rude and egotistical.

Our eyes meet for a moment. He smiles and drops one eyelid in a wink. It says it all; he doesn't blame me for this. I give him a slight nod before they lower the casket into the marked grave. My parents are the first to go and throw dirt, well, mud into the ditch. It marks Gracie's final resting place, for which she will never return; "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust", or so the saying goes.

After he does it, Father rubs his hands on a cloth and puts his arm around my mother. She turns to his embrace, letting out an intense sob that shatters my heart. My hand curls into a fist, stiff at my side. I dig my nails into the soft flesh of my palm, fighting the fierce urge to put my hand on my mother's back. Men do not show such affections, I chide myself.

It starts a line of family and friends who takes turns burying the grave one handful at a time. Drew comes up first and kneels down, his mouth working in a quick prayer. Then he throws the dirt. More and more people I've known come. There's Mr. and Mrs. Nelson who are the town bakers. They first showed Gracie how to properly balance herself. Then there is the town medicine man, Dr. Bhandari, who helped heal Gracie after she fell off her horse.

The faces begin to blur before me as the memories fill my mind. They've all had their time with my other half and now they all bury her. The first time I met the DeLaurier family and they gave me a free book. The Guthrie family with their now three month old child whom Gracie had met before were there. It was so many people.

There's a nudge in my side and all the memories vanish. Eli has his head inclined toward the now empty ditch and I nod. Out of habit, I reach down to pick up my skirts. About midway I remember that I do not wear skirts any longer and thrust my hands boldly into my pockets. I stride up as if I've seen a thousand funerals before. Eli bows and picks up the dirt first. He shuts his eyes, squeezing the mud in his hand, and says quietly:

"May everything go smoothly for Lord Adam. I know not what lies ahead, but let there be no complications for my master. He has had enough."

And then he drops it onto the grave. He smiles at me and wipes his hands and knees free of dirt. Knowing not what to say, I throw my hand into the dirt pile. I stare at the grave in the ground and suddenly get very dizzy. Seeing the casket in the church was different. I could pretend it wasn't me. But here, with this gravestone, marking Gracie Torres is frighteningly real. And this is my fond farewell to myself.

I follow Eli's move and kneel on one knee. Gracie, I think to myself, I never thought of myself as a Gracie. It doesn't seem to make sense, but I know that I was made to be a boy. An Adam. Though the world won't see you anymore, you will continue to impact them for some time. But then it will be my time to shine. I will not miss you. I will not mourn for you. I am happier now than I ever have been.

Then I throw the dirt and Gracie into the grave. The men who carried her away begin to dig and finish burying her. I walk away, my stride light and airy. A great weight has been lifted from these heavy shoulders. Gracie has been put to rest.

It is time for Adam to walk free.