I only wish I was right too. When two months ago I caught you with Courtney and thought that this was the critical 48 hours she told me about. God I wish I was right.

If you think about it I was in a way. That is when I pushed you away. You tried to explain what really happened but I didn't believe you then.

Or may be I did believe you but I was tired of being the one pushed away that I jumped at a chance to be the pushee. If I only knew...

I wonder... am I at fault? If I hadn't pushed you away, would you have still devised that idiotic plan of yours? If we were together... as friends or more it doesn't matter now... would I've been able to stop you? Or at least come with you?

It's kind of irrational. You're the master of pigheadedness. Nothing would've stopped you. As for the rest... I guess I'll never know. But it's ok. This is hard. Being irrational is my safety net in a way.

You knew that didn't you? You knew so much and so little about me at the same time... You saw right through my attempts at making you jealous with that stupid water bra and make believe dates and openly smirked at me, showing that you knew. But you knew nothing about the pain you put me through when you avoided me... or did you?

That day you got out of jail... the last time... I told you I missed you and you told me you knew. I thought that you meant that you knew I missed you and cursed you for being so cold and arrogant. But now I wonder... were you trying to tell me that you really knew because you missed me too?

I miss you now too. Oh God how much I miss you. And you're not even gone yet.

I think the 48 hours started when Isabel came to see me.

You haven't done that in one month, three weeks and two days. Since the time you came over and told me that this would be the last time you're trying to explain what really happened between that bitch and you and if I won't let you in you'll leave and never come back. I slammed the door in your face.

If I knew it would be the last time that I see you walk out my house, I would've given you a hug and kiss and called you back for one more.

You've never tried to talk to me again.

It was Isabel who finally convinced me that you weren't lying. Max was wallowing in his own misery and ignoring you. Tess was too wrapped up in her newly found romance with Kyle to give a damn. And you... you were too proud and hurt to try again. She came over to the Crash Down one day when you were off and waited until I had a break. She walked up to me and told me... it doesn't matter what she told me. It was nothing new. Nothing you haven't tried to tell me. But I listened to her.

Why? I don't know.

May be because I've had time to cool off and think about stuff. I've watched you, you know. I've seen your stone wall turn ice cold. I refused to believe it was because of me. Was it? Or did you do it all by yourself?

May be because of the worry in her eyes. We both know that Isabel never shows vulnerability. She believes that as long as she presents herself as strong and invincible, she really is. But she took off her mask and showed her true self because she was hoping it'd help you.

My mistake, she did tell me something you didn't. She told me that you hunted down Courtney and killed her. Isabel was there when it happened. She said she's never been afraid of you and for you until that moment.

The expression on your face when you... she started tearing up even mentioning it. It took her a couple of minutes until she gave up and just showed me.

I realized why she was so afraid. I've never thought someone's eyes could be hollow. There was no hate, no fear, no guilt. Just nothing. I felt my stomach twisting into a steel knot. That couldn't be you.

Where was the never-ending fire that gave your eyes those magnificent sparks?

Where was the passion that made you so impossible to resist?

Where was twisting guilt that ate away at you the last time you had to kill?

She begged me... can you imagine Isabel begging? Neither could I. But she did. She begged me to at least try and talk to you because you wouldn't let anyone else.

So I tried. I swallowed down my pride and I came to you. I told you that I believe you now. And you slammed the door in my face. But not before you told me that it doesn't matter now. Because if I couldn't trust you when you needed me the most my feelings couldn't be true.

I should've been pissed. I couldn't be. I was frozen and shivering.

Because your eyes were hollow. And as I looked into them I wondered, what's left inside of you? Do you even remember me? You words said yes. Your eyes... said nothing.

It hit me as I stood outside your door unable to cry or scream or even move. It wasn't your eyes that were hollow. It was you.

And at that moment I finally grasped the real reason you missed Courtney the first time. Others assumed it was because your control of powers was still on the weak side. I knew that was bull. I've seen you use your powers lately. You wouldn't have missed unless you wanted to. I figured that you wanted to miss because you had feeling for her.

I'm sorry.

I was so blinded by my hurt and jealousy I chose to neglect the real reason even thought it was staring at me as clear as day.

You were scared. You've already labeled yourself a killer. Knowledge that killing Pierce was an accident only managed to lighten the guilt, not take it away. But killing someone... someone you knew... in cold blood is entirely different ball game. You may not have had fuzzy feelings for Courtney. But you knew her. You've worked with her for the last five months. You've talked with her, you've laughed with her. And even though she betrayed you and lied to you, you still couldn't shake the fact that you knew her. How do you kill someone who stole fries of your plate laughing at your half-hearted attempts to prevent it just two days before?

Who is next? Your neighbor? That guy that orders coffee and two scrambled eggs every morning? How many next? Ten? Hundred?

You didn't think you were strong enough to deal with consequences. You were right. Alone you weren't strong enough. Why did you have to be so proud? You knew that the day was coming. Sooner or later you will have to kill again. And yet you didn't ask for help. Why you bonehead? You tried to prepare by forcing yourself to not feel. Did you really think that it would work?

How am I doing so far?

I should've tried again right then. But I was too scared. Probably for the first time in my life, I didn't want to be right.

I don't remember how I got home. I indistinctly remember calling Isabel and telling her I failed. She told me she believes in me.

40 hours passed and I still didn't realize the importance of time.

But I tried again.

I composed whatever energy I had and I knocked on your door once more.

3 a.m. You were sleeping. You opened the door and I noticed a flicker of something familiar in your eyes. As rapid as it was, I know it was there and it gave me strength to take on your coldness without wavering. You stared at me, silently as if unsure of what to do next.

I did the same.

You opened your mouth to tell me to go home and leave you alone but you glanced at your watch and snapped it shut. How I know what you were going to say? I know you too.

I don't know what made you do what you did next. Did I look that vulnerable? That scared? Or that determined? Or was it because you were just as scared of what you were becoming?

You stepped aside, still not saying a word and waited until my quivering legs took me in. You carefully locked the door behind me and turned off your beat up stereo. As I watched you I pondered since when you started sleeping with a night light and music. Were the monsters that tortured you at night so bad that you couldn't bare silence and darkness? Were those monsters the reason you broke down and let me in?

Without bothering to look at me, you took out what I figured were clean sheets and made up your bed. I just stared. You grabbed a blanket and walked to the couch. I was still not moving. The silence was deafening and I felt like screaming just to prove that I still can.

You flopped down on the couch and closed your eyes.

Every sane cell in my brain yelled at me to turn around, leave and never come back. I know you expected me. I could also feel that you hoped I won't.

Yet, I was this close to listening to them and not your vibes.

Three simple words stopped me. Or was it the way you said them?

'Good night, Maria.'

I felt my eyes tearing up and tuned those annoying sane cells out. Not like I've ever listened to them before.

If I knew it would be the last time I'd hear your voice I would've video taped each action and word, so I could play them back day after day.

I did something you didn't even hope for. I picked up that flimsy excuse for a blanket and lay next to you. You arms wrapped around me protectively and when you glance at me, I saw the soul I fallen in love with. Tortured but hopeful. Strong and protective. Passionate yet tender. Flawed but perfect to me.

I don't think either one of us knew what the hell we were doing. It didn't make any sense. But what about us ever did?

I just know that at this moment neither one of us wanted to remember the last six months. For one night we fell into strange and unexpected wonder of 'what if'. What if you never found out that you're capable of killing. What if you handled it differently, accepting my help and compassion when you needed it. What if I trusted your reasons for befriending Courtney and didn't walk away. What if we were together.

'Good night, Michael'.

I watched as your face relaxed in the dim moonlight as your mind drifted into the scary realm of dreams. Oh, God, if I only knew it would be the last time that I'd see you fall asleep, I would've tucked you in more tightly and prayed the Lord your soul to keep.

Yeah, I'm lying. If I knew... if the thought even crossed my mind for a brief second... I would've ripped your clothes off and showed what I've felt physically since I couldn't do it verbally. I would've prayed for you to get a flash, to see inside of me, to know what I feel for you my wonderful in all your imperfections spaceboy.

It's strange, isn't it? I can talk a mile per second, but I could never say what I really feel. This is something both of us had in common. This is why we understood each other's silences better than words. When did we forget how to do that?

At that moment, while I was lying awake in your embrace, it didn't matter. All that mattered was now.

If I knew it would be the last time I'd get that chance, I would've spared an extra minute or two to stopped to say "I love you," instead of assuming, you would know I do. When you're seventeen and even if you're living in the line of danger you still assume that there will always be another day to say our "I love you's". For surely there'd always tomorrow to make up for an oversight, and we always get a second chance to make everything right.

Why didn't you tell me how wrong I was? You knew.

But I felt something. There was this charge in the air... I refused to fall asleep, cherishing this warmth and feeling of peace washing over me, somehow feeling that it won't last.

My body decided differently. The events of the last two days... or two months... wore it down.

When I woke up in the morning, you were gone. Why didn't you wake me? Why didn't you tell me what you're about to do? Damn you.

The day you killed Courtney is when something inside of you died. Melodramatic, I know. But true. We could've revived it, but we were too busy with our own pains and hurts to notice yours.

How were we supposed to know? Even Isabel. Even she didn't know how serious it was. You did. Why didn't you tell us? Why God dammit? Why? Didn't you think we'd care?

I look around your stingy apartment and I see tear-stricken faces. Every pair of eyes is filled with guilt and plea for forgiveness.

Max blames himself. You came to him this morning and told him about 'skin factory'. He shrugged you off. You yelled at him, demanding to take action and investigate. He lashed out and told you that if you're so smart and know everything to go and to it yourself. He didn't mean it you dimwit. He didn't think even you were rash enough to try and pull something like this. He should've known better, but he's not the one at fault here. He is not perfection people make him out to be. He is not fearless leader yet. That takes years and years. For now he is only a confused teenage boy whose heart has been crashed into a million pieces. Can you really blame him for being a little self-absorbed? I can't. I know you don't either. I wish I could convince him of that.

Isabel is hysterical. She's completely out of it. Taking care of you was in a way her life... she was more than just your best friend... she was you sister, your protector and she thinks she failed you. She blames herself, thinking that if only she paid more attention to you... what a laugh. She was the only one of us who was there for you. It's not her fault you refused to let her in. You spend hours listening to her rants about Whittaker. But you never mentioned what if was like to kill Courtney.

Even Tess feels responsible for what happened. She's really grown fond of you over the summer. She thinks if only she was a better teacher, if she taught you to use your powers better... it wouldn't have made a difference, would it? There were too many of them. It took all three, Isabel, Max and Tess to hold them off long enough for me and Alex to drag your lifeless body outside and take it back home.

Liz hates herself. I couldn't understand why in the beginning. Until she broke down and told us about a visit from the future. You know how we joked around that the future of this planet is in your hands? We were much closer to the truth than we realized. You should be proud, spaceboy. Except... what's going to happen now? Does is mean that the enemies will take over if you... if you won't wake up? Or will Max find a way to defeat them? Who knows. I personally don't give a damn right now. I will later but for now the only thing that matters is you. Liz thinks that if she told you how important your life were, you would've taken better care of it.

I know she's wrong. They all are. It was your fault. You were the one who walked into that freaking factory knowing perfectly well that it was a suicide mission. Is that what it was? Were you really trying to... No. I refuse to believe that. You were too strong for that. I know you. You're too freaking stubborn to let anyone win.

You were just a careless bonehead as usual. God I'm trying to hate you right now. I'm trying to get angry.

And I succeed for about 30 seconds. Until I glance in your direction. My heart stops and I have to blink again and again, quickly to get rid of the tears that are blocking my vision.

You look peaceful. Content. As if you're sleeping. For a moment I manage to disillusion myself into believing that this is what you're doing. That you're just tired and as soon as you get your rest...

That lasts a few seconds. The dim light is still too bright. The tears fall down and my sight clears. I can see the ugly bruises that are covering your beautiful face... the bluish tone of your skin... how unsteady and shallow your breathing is and I bite down the urge to roll my head back and howl as realization that you're dying is sinking in deeper and deeper. The understanding that whatever those ugly bastard did to you is irreversible. Not Max, not Isabel or Tess, or even those stupid healing stones could help you. And the only thing we can do right now is sit and watch helplessly as you slip away from us with every passing second.

You know, spaceboy, I can't shake off the feeling that may be I'm wrong again. That may be this is the crucial 48 hours Madam V told me about. That may be now is the time when it's up to me. May be I'm the only one who could save you now... and the fear that I won't know that for sure until it's too late is paralyzing. I glance at the watch. Ten hours since we found you. Eighteen since you walked into the factory. Twenty six since you opened the door and let me in. What does it all mean? How many do you have left? When do I start counting? When do I stop? Is it normal that I want to punch that poor woman out?

Isn't the human mind weird? This is where you're interrupt and tell me with a smirk that it's not the problem with human mind, it's just me. Bite me. May be you're right. Be that as may be... would you believe that when I look at you I think about one particular fairy tale. Guess which one? No, 'The Little Prince' is not it even though you were sent to me from the stars. 'Sleeping Beauty' if genders were reversed.

So you're not a polite gentle prince. You can be when you want to, but I like you better when you're being you. The whole rough-around-the-edges, cuddly as a cactus, bad-boy thing works for me. Exchanging insults with you always turned me on better than any flowers.

I know that your foster father didn't actually give you a poisoned apple. But he poisoned your mind. He made you feel unworthy and inferior. Damn him. If he only loved you like you deserve to be loved... may be you would've learned to love yourself and wouldn't have risked your life like that.

I know it's stupid but I keep wondering... what if I kiss you now. Would you wake up? Would you look at me with those soulful eyes that melt me on the spot just once more? Would you smile at me with that rare unguarded smile that makes my insides flutter with happiness? Would we live happily ever after? Would I at least get the chance to say those three simple words that burn my mind and tong because I was too scared to tell them out loud to you?

I see your cracked bloodied lips and dark circles around your eyes and I grasp how stupid I am. This isn't a fairy tale or a movie. You're already gone. What we see is nothing but an almost empty vessel and it's only a matter of time... I can still tell you the words. I don't know if you'll hear them but I hope so.

I hear an inhuman wail and watch in slow motion as Isabel falls down from the chair, doubled over in pain, followed by Max and Tess. I feel an invisible hand squeeze my heart tighter and tighter until I can't breathe... can't see... I hear another voice join Isabel's and don't even realize that it's mine until my throat starts to hurt.

And I know it's too late but I still manage to say it before the whole world goes black.

Good bye, spaceboy.

I love you.

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