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"Need"

Three hours...Jeremie noticed the time on his wristwatch and had to to a double take. For three hours he'd held this girl in his arms, with no end in sight to her tears. Sometimes she gave loud, wretching sobs, others it was almost silent crying, but her grip on him never slackened. The few times she did speak the words were mostly incoherent.

"It's okay, Princess," Jeremie murmured, rocking her back and forth on his bed. Aelita shook violently, howling in grief, and he pressed her head into his shoulder. He couldn't very well explain why she was crying to Jim, and he doubted any excuse would make up for her being in his room hours after curfew.

"Oh, G-God, Jerem-mie," she moaned, squeezing him like she wanted to break him in half. "He's...He's..."

"I know, Princess." She didn't have to say it—Jeremie wasn't sure she could say it.

At first he'd tried to make her promises and justify her father's sacrifice, but nothing so far had gotten a positive response from her. The only thing that seemed to help was him being there at all; the few times he'd shifted in place Aelita had gasped and tightened her hold on him. It was well into the night now, and it was starting to look very likely she'd spend it here in his dorm.

"It'll be all right, 'Lita." The words sounded like a lie, even to himself. By the looks of the pinkette, nothing would ever be all right.

Another sob racked her body and Jeremie crushed her closer. There really wasn't a closer, he could only briefly flex his arms around her. The part of him that rejoiced at the opportunity to hold her like this was smothered completely by the sight of her pain. And the knowledge that there was only so much his sympathy could do for her. Jeremie knew himself well enough to realize that despite his shortcomings, there was nothing he wouldn't do for Aelita's comfort. If she wanted to stay, he would gladly cradle her. If she wanted to leave, he would understandingly escort her to her dorm and bid her goodnight...and perhaps goodbye.

That stung almost as much as the agony present on Aelita's face. The certainty that their friendship had reached its end. Jeremie exhaled shakily into her pink locks. There was no way around it, she simply had no use for him now. Aelita was strong and spunky, and she would survive this—although it was only possible for Jeremie to believe that when he wasn't looking into her eyes. How perfect: the reason he could finally spend all the time he wanted with her was the same reason she would no longer want him. Again, Jeremie had to stifle a groan into her hair, unheard by the fitful girl.

"J-Jerem-mie..."

"I'm right here, Princess," the blonde cooed, his voice cracking. She may have tried to reply to that, but all he heard was a low, tortured wail. "Shh, shh, it's okay."

And why would she want him? The last two years he could've spent bonding with the pinkette he'd been a slave to his computer, many times not sparing her feelings to do so. Jeremie had rationalized then that Aelita's safety held a higher priority than grabbing an ice cream with her...but how much of a difference would a few happy afternoons have made? In the end it would've prolonged her need for him by a little while, at least, and given him some reason to hope for a relationship after Xana.

His self-berating halted when he noticed Aelita was still. Jeremie carefully raised her face and peered into her half-closed eyes. She wasn't sleeping, only temporarily out of tears, not seeing him or anything else and trapped inside her own guilt. "It's not your fault..." Jeremie's reassurances fell on deaf ears. He adjusted their embrace and buried his nose back in her hair, rocking back and forth...back and forth...

I'm losing her, he thought miserably. I'm losing everything. Yumi, Odd, Ulrich, they had even less use for him now. They would move on with much less difficulty. But as long as he could have kept her...Jeremie inhaled sharply, trying to permanently etch her scent in his memory. If I would've just gone to a few more of her concerts...talked to her a little more about her memories...

Abruptly Aelita let out a huge, keening cry into his chest, her whole body vibrating in his arms. It was a horrible sound, and Jeremie held her tight to muffle it as best he could—every boy on the floor would be up soon. Her fingers fisted around his shirt as she let it out. Jeremie continued rocking, back and forth, back and forth, praying in spite of his fears for her to heal back into the determined, loving young woman Schaeffer had left behind; it made his heart ache to watch her break down like this.

Aelita never felt the gentle tears falling into her hair, and she would certainly never hear Jeremie's despairing thoughts; She won't need me...She won't want me...

And perhaps it was only her current state that kept him from sobbing loudly with her, from dropping his support for her and completely indulging in his mourning. Because right now, she did.

This didn't turn out exactly the way I wanted, the only thing worse than trying to come up with a decent title is trying to write angst for the first time. Takes place after Fight to the Finish.

Anyone think they know who my favorite couple is yet? ;)