And everything I can't remember
As fucked up as it all may seem
The consequences that I've rendered
I've stretched myself beyond my means

And it's been awhile
Since I can say that I wasn't addicted
And it's been awhile
Since I can say I love myself as well
And it's been awhile
Since I've gone and fucked things up just like I always do
And it's been awhile
But all that shit seems to disappear when I'm with you...

And it's been awhile
Since I could look at myself straight
And it's been awhile
Since I said I'm sorry
And it's been awhile
Since I've seen the way the candle lights your face
And it's been awhile
But I can still remember just the way you taste...}

Adam's hands shook as he held up the keycard as he was directly outside the door to what he knew to be Amy's hotel room.  He cursed himself under his breath, as he couldn't afford to drop it or hesitate for a moment.  Somehow, he forced himself to be as steady as possible, and he swiped the keycard through the door, shoving it open.

He rushed into the room, glancing around quickly until his eyes spotted the blood on the floor near the bathroom.  Actually, the red liquid was just in the doorway, and it seemed to make a small trail.

Oh, Christ... He ducked his head into the bathroom, fearing he might find the redhead lying on the floor in the small room, her wrists slashed.  However, the lavatory was empty.  He took note of the smashed mirror above the sink, realizing what must have happened.

Oh, God, he thought.  She must have smashed the mirror and taken a shard to use as a weapon - a means to hurt herself.  He couldn't bring himself to think of it as killing herself.

And then, as he quickly left the small bathroom, his eyes were drawn to something else...

The window was wide open... Because this was San Diego, rather than somewhere up north or in the northeast, the temperature hadn't been off - it was December, and elsewhere, he would have instantly been aware of the window being open because it would have been freezing in the room.

Adam crept up to the window and peered out.

Oh, God... There she was.  Amy was sitting on the ledge, her legs dangling over the edge of the building.

The blond man blinked, feeling as though he were in the middle of an impossible dream - a nightmare.

He took note of the diva's hands - well, at least the right one, which was the only one he could currently see from this vantage point.  It was gripping the ledge upon which she was sitting, and it looked to be bleeding.

He winced.  Amy was still apparently unaware of his presence, as she faced forward, her head down, tears streaming down her cheeks.  His heart lurched uncomfortably in his chest.  He was terrified of calling out to her and startling her - she could lose her balance and plummet to her death.  They were on the sixth floor, certainly high enough for her to die if she fell.  Oh, my God...

Damn it!  He had to do something!  Then, his mind made up, he stuck his head out the window, hoping - praying - she would see or sense him and not totally freak out.

She wasn't looking at him.  She seemed completely oblivious of his presence, despite any noise he might have made while searching the hotel room.

"Amy...?"

Very slowly, the distraught diva turned her head toward him.  The expression on her face was so sad and hopeless that it nearly broke his heart.

She gazed at him - nearly through him - for a moment before facing forward again.

"Adam...what are you doing here?"

"Damn it!  Amy, please come in here..." the blond man pleaded, the fear inside of him bubbling and roiling.  He wasn't going to panic - he couldn't afford to give into panic.  For the redhead's sake, he had to remain calm.

Without turning back to face him, she spoke again, her voice sadder than tragedy.

"Why should I?  You read my note..."

"Yeah, I did," Adam said, raking a hand through his long blond hair nervously.  "And I couldn't believe my eyes - Amy, you can't do this!"

"Why not?  I don't want to continue...I can't go on like this," she said, her voice wavering.  "Adam..."  She stopped speaking abruptly as she was overcome by her tears.  Her head bowed, she sobbed almost silently for a beat, and the Canadian stood there helplessly, wanting nothing more than to climb out the window and go after her - pull her to safety into the room.

"How...how did you get in my room?" the redhead asked, and her question totally threw the blond man off guard.

"Jeff - he gave me a spare keycard," Adam explained as calmly as he could manage.

The redhead nodded, not surprised.  In truth, she'd given the rainbow-haired Hardy the extra key for himself to hold onto, in case she felt she needed him.  But the young man had obviously deemed it important to give Adam the key.  Leave it to Jeff, she thought sardonically.

"You don't have to stay here with me," she said bitterly.  "I don't need you or anyone to hold my hand - literally or figuratively!"

"That's where I think you're wrong," the tall blond man said.  "And by the way - speaking of your hands, they're a mess.  Look painful, too.  Why...why did you do that?"

"I was angry - I couldn't help it...I wasn't exactly thinking straight."

Adam thought he was doing the right thing in keeping her talking.  Yes, this was the right tactic.  If he made a move as though to try to drag her back into the room, she might make a wrong move and drop six stories, or whatever it was, to her demise.

"Can you tell me what you're doing out there?  Please?" he said, gritting his teeth as the woman suddenly shifted a bit on the ledge.  Damn it... She was literally in a most precarious position.  But if he leaned partially out the window, he could grab hold of her hand.  He was strong - he could pull her in to safety.

"I think I said all I needed to in my note, Adam," the redhead replied matter-of-factly. 

"Ames, you can't do this!" Adam cried, on the verge of tears himself.  "You got me all wrong...Amy, I love you..."

She turned her head slowly, rather than sharply, and stared at him, fresh tears running down her face.  She didn't say a word.

"And I'm not just saying that to get you off that damn ledge.  Damn it, I love you!  I always have..." the blond man said. "I was just too much of a coward to say it - because I didn't know if the feeling was mutual."

Amy stared at him, her shoulders shaking a bit as sobs took over.

"As you know, there was never anything between Trish and me - other than friendship...And the reason I had her pretend otherwise is because I was too damn afraid of asking you how you felt about me..." he revealed.

Adam suddenly realized there were tears running down his own face.  "Amy, that was all to find out whether you had any feelings for me...not to play games with your heart..."

The redhead stared at him with tearful hazel eyes, unable to believe her ears - or her eyes - he was crying, same as she was.

"Ames...baby...please come back in," he pleaded, reaching a hand out the window to her.  "I love you, and I need you, baby...I don't want to lose you - and I don't want to live without you..."

Slowly, Amy lifted her bleeding right hand and reached over for him.  Adam grabbed her hand, wincing at the thought of the pain she must be in due to the glass that was surely embedded in her hand.  Then, as she was suddenly closer, he grasped her arm, and she helped him by pulling herself through the window.

When she was inside the room with him, the tall Canadian hurriedly shut the window, then wrapped his arms tightly around her, and, as they cried against one another, he vowed never to let her slip away from him again.