I do not own Skins, or 'Only If For A Night' by Florence and The Machine.

And I had a dream; About my old school.
Slip in and out of drunken consciousness, beneath a mound of Freddie's old tshirts and bed sheets. Ones he loved her in. That was all she ever did. That was Effy's purpose now. That's all she wanted. And Cook was growing sick and tired of watching it all unravel before him. He gave everything he had to Effy, but she was, as ever, selfish with her emotions. She wallowed. She wept. And there was nothing left for Cook. He wanted Naomi and her cynicism. And Emily. And Katie and Panda and Thomas. And twister. Cook wanted, with all his frail being, to go back to that night. That simple, yet complicated game of twister. Pandora with her sore eyes and sore heart. Upset by Effy's antics. Everybody was upset by Effy's antics. He wanted JJ. Oh god, he wanted JJ. To put him in headlock, cry into his fuzzy mop of hair. But everybody had left. Everybody had left Cook to deal with her. They thought he could handle it. Or maybe they thought she was his mess. His responsibility. Cook liked it better when he didn't have any. He shuts his eyes.

And she was there all pink and gold and glittering.
Naomi. She stares him up and down. His greasy chin and sweaty chest. You're a state, she scoffs. All working out for you now, is it? You wanted her after all. He shakes his head. I didn't want it this way. What did you expect?, she shrugs. She never wanted you, Cook. She chose, and she chose Freddie. And you're a poor replacement. Never one to mince your words, he smiles. It's the first smile he's cracked since he found his body. But don't think about that, Cook. Just be. Just dream.

I threw my arms around her legs. Came to weeping. Came to weeping.
I miss you, Cook shivers. Come back to me. Naomi shuffles out of his grip. This is the life you made for yourself, she bites. I hope she's worth the dedication. I can't do this on my own, he pleads. Look at yourself, she barks. Just look at yourself, Cook. She's destroying you. She'll kill you too, in the end. She has already, he croaks – but she doesn't hear. She doesn't hear.

I heard your voice as clear as day; And you told me I should concentrate.

Concentrate, Cook. Freddie?, he screams. Freddie, Freddie, Freddie. And Cook's running. Running after the voice. He can smell him, can sense him. He's running through the streets, through the water, through the fields. Then he's holding his body. His mangled frame. His bloodied skull. His broken face. Concentrate, Freddie rasps. The blood bubbles from his mouth. Look after her, Cook. You have to look after her. She's all we've got. Christ, she's all you've got. Cook cries, but there's no sound. He looks into Freddie's blinded eyes. Look after her, Cook. Concentrate.

It was all so strange; And so surreal; That a ghost should be so practical.

Only if for a night.
To see him. To be with him. To love him and let him love Effy. If not for Cook, for her. To see her smile. To hear her laugh. To let her be comforted and ease the pain. Because only he can heal her, and Cook knows that. Cook knows he's nothing, but everything. Cook opens his eyes, blood pounding in his ears.

And the only solution was to stand and fight.
Effy stares at him, the seas of her eyes icy and unwelcoming. Cook still drowns in them; he just can't help it. You're going to get better eventually, he nods at her. I'm going to get you through this. That's what he wants, Eff. You know he wouldn't want to see you this way. You're right, she snarls. He wouldn't ever want to see me with you. He'd die twice. Cook's sick of the dramatics. He needs to deal with his own grief, but she won't let him. She won't let him forget.

And my body was bruised and I was set alight.
We need some time apart, Cook sighs. He stands and she watches him closely, panic invading her face. I think you need to be alone, Eff. To figure yourself out. She looks to the floor. She picks up her arm. She puts her wrist to her mouth. She bites with her sharpest teeth. Stop it, Cook trembles. He pulls it from her jaw and holds her. He rocks her as she shrieks.

But you came over me like some holy rite.
And he can't. If not for her, for Freddie. Cook has to protect her. He's her shelter. Freddie, she cries into his chest. And Cook doesn't mind. He knows it's what she needs. This shed, it's her life. And Cook? He's her life too. She needs him to remember.

And although I was burning; You're the only light; Only if for a night.

The grass was so green against my new clothes; And I did cartwheels in your honour; dancing on tiptoes.
Cook remembers how they watched her. With disbelief. Some with shame. All misunderstanding. But Cook knew why. He knew this was her way. She rolled in the grass they had rolled in. She ran around the trees he had chased her. And she laughed. She threw back her head, and she danced. Looking, but not seeing. And then she fell.

My own secret ceremonials before the service began; In the graveyard; Doing handstands.
Cook carried her to the funeral. And when she came round, and saw where she was, she tried to run from the church. But Cook held her. He held her so tight that she couldn't scream. She thrashed around and everybody stared; Karen glared. But Cook didn't care. He knew this was her way, and would always be. Eventually she settled, and they sat, her head buried into his shoulder the whole time. She murmured and she rocked. She trembled and she moaned. And Cook held onto her so tightly. To keep her together. To keep them as one.

And although I was burning; You're the only light.
Only if for a night.