A/N: I probably won't be updating before the new year so Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! I know this story has nothing to do with the other three stories I'm in the middle of. So why did I write it? Because I was inspired by the two as-yet-unfinished amnesia stories in the fandom (one in particular) and this popped in my head. I'll probably tinker with this from time to time. Now that I've posted it, I'm not completely satisfied with it. Oh, well. It's a one-shot for now; I don't juggle well. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. R&R. Alexandri.

Nimble fingers tunneled through Adam Rove's cool, dark hair. He shifted his head closer to the gentle, loving touch. A happy smile lifted the corners of his mouth at the warmth spreading through him even as a frown marred his brow. Mom? He wasn't certain if he thought the words or said them, but surely he was right. Surely the simple caress that was making him feel so blissful belonged to his mother. Consciousness tugged at him, the caress growing stronger as he inched closer to awareness, but he fought it, certain that if he woke now, his contentment would disappear like so many other happy things.

"Adam?" a voice said, pulling him out of his delicious dream even more. "Adam, wake up."

"No."

The fingers hesitated then continued their journey through his hair. "Please?" the voice pled. "I need you."

Reluctantly, Adam let go of the dream and opened his eyes, squinting against the harsh, unexpected glare of the lamp before him. Sitting up, he scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands as he arched his back to stretch out the dull ache in his lower back. "Mom?" he asked groggily as he blinked at his surroundings. He was in his shed; the purple-black sky outside the window told him it was very early morning. The digital clock near the TV glowed a red 3:54 at Adam's bleary eyes. Rubbing a hand over his face as he turned toward the door, he stopped, surprised by the person he found standing next to him. "Jane?"

She smiled, clearly embarrassed. "Hey."

"Hey." He half-rose from his stool, but Joan laid her hand on his shoulder, pushing him down again. "Are you okay," he asked, not used to her visiting him in the middle of the night. "You look like you've been crying."

"When don't I?" she asked lightly. Still, Adam could tell that something was bothering his girlfriend.

"Did something happen?"

"No, no," she murmured as she ran her hand over his hair once more before cupping his jaw. "Nothing like that. I just needed to see you."

He took her hand off his face and held it between his. "You're scaring me, Jane."

"I'm sorry." Joan moved to sit on the stool facing him and Adam noticed for the first time that she had on her pajamas with a light jacket thrown over the ensemble. What could be so bad that she came over in the middle of the night without even putting on regular clothes?

"What happened?"

Joan met his gaze before flicking hers to their hands. Tracing her fingers over one of his hands, her mouth trembled slightly as she gathered her words. "You know how sometimes things just fall into place?"

"I-I guess," he said, clueless.

"Like everything you've ever experienced and everything you know just comes together in your head," she continued as if he hadn't answered her question, "and collides and suddenly you really know everything that you knew before and it's all, like, super clear."

"I'm not sure I understand."

She sighed, her head nodding slightly. "I, uh," she broke off with an uncomfortable chuckle, "I had a bad dream."

She looked so small, so forlorn it was all Adam could do to keep from going to her and wrapping her in his arms. "I take it koala bears weren't involved."

Joan shuddered and a tiny smile tugged at his lips. Despite his concern for her, Adam couldn't help being amused by her reaction to the twelve-year-old dream.

He squeezed her hand, bringing her gaze back to his face. "Tell me about it."

Sniffling a little, Joan's gaze wandered back to their hands. "I dreamt that the last two years hadn't happened. I didn't know you and Grace. I was still 'friends' with those girls I knew at the beginning of last year. God never talked to me. Everything was different and I didn't like who I was."

"How so?"

"I was as shallow as my 'friends.' All I ever thought about was my hair or if some jerk liked me or not. I saw you and Grace in the halls at school and you had this dead look in your eyes. And I don't know how I knew, but Grace was deeply unhappy because of all the stuff with her mom. And the worst thing about it was that I didn't care. I didn't really care about anything or anybody but myself. That hurt so much. It was like I didn't know who I was. I didn't know anything about myself or the people around me. I was lost, just floating along, oblivious to everything."

"It was just a dream, Jane," Adam reassured, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing the back of it.

Shaking her head, she said quietly, "You don't understand."

"Then explain it to me."

Her mouth crumpled and she pressed her lips together. After a moment, she gasped a shaky, little sob before meeting his anxious eyes. "I've been wishing I could take it back," she admitted. "Just undo the last two years and do them over so they didn't hurt so much."

"Oh, Jane," he said, understanding blossoming.

She cried freely now. "I was wrong."

"You've been through a lot the last two years, Jane. It's okay to . . ."

"No, it's not." She shook her head hard, her sleep-tousled curls whipping around her tear-strained face. "If I undid the last two years, everything would change. All the good things would be gone as well as the bad things. I haven't thought about the good things that much this year. I've been so," she paused and drew a long, deep breath, "I've been so selfish and thoughtless and ungrateful and . . ."

"Stop it, Jane," Adam asked, pained to see her like this. "Please? Don't talk about yourself like this."

"Why not?" she demanded fiercely, her gaze boring into his once again. "It's true."

He stared at her helplessly. He didn't know what to say to make her see what he saw—a sad, confused girl who'd endured one catastrophe after another. She'd bowed under the weight of it all but she'd never completely broken. How was he supposed to show her that, in spite of her pain and confusion and flaws, she was strong and brave? Much more so than he had ever been. Watching the fierceness that had possessed her mere seconds ago seep out of her face was like watching her light die out. "Jane," he began, desperately trying to find the right words to make her feel better, to make her understand.

"I'm so sorry, Adam," she whispered.

"Why?"

"Because I haven't been fair to you. I haven't been fair to anyone really, but you most of all."

"It's okay," he said as he squeezed her hand and rubbed her arm. "I understand."

"Do you?" There were so many emotions tumbling across her face, he couldn't begin to decipher them.

"Probably not," he admitted, "but you're hurting and you're bound to lash out some. Don't worry about it."

"But I do. I do worry about it." Joan began to laugh, sad and deprecating. When she finally stopped, her voice was low and measured as if it hurt to admit what she was about to say. "I've been so scared. It seemed like all the good things in my life were temporary. First, I lost Rocky, then God, and then myself. Then I lost Judith. And I keep losing you."

"You never lost me."

"I lost you after I smashed your sculpture and you wouldn't talk to me. You'd barely even look at me. Then I lost you to Iris. I know I wasn't ready to be with you then so that was all my fault, too. But I liked that you liked me and, knowing that you liked her like that, you weren't mine anymore. Then, after I told you about talking to God and you didn't believe me, I felt like I lost you again. Then I went to crazy camp and I felt so far away from you, like I'd never be able to find my way back to you.

"Ever since I came back, I've been waiting for something else to come along and take you away again. Something to say 'You've messed up yet again, Joan, so you can't be with Adam anymore, no matter how important he is to you or how much you need him.'" Joan sniffled again and wiped impatiently at her cheeks. "It's why I haven't been able to say the words."

Adam sat, stunned. It had never occurred to him that Joan felt like that and he didn't know how to assure her that he'd always be there for her, no matter what happened. It was a full minute later when her last comment register in his brain. "What words haven't you been able to say, Jane?"

She swallowed and worried her bottom lip with her teeth before staring unwaveringly in his eyes. "I haven't been able to tell you that I l-love you."

He gasped, shocked to hear the words. She'd told him in a roundabout way a dozen times, but never so clearly. "Jane."

"I love you, Adam. I've just been too afraid to tell you because I thought it would be tempting fate to say it out loud." She shrugged. "Silly, huh?"

"No," he replied, shaking his head for emphasis. "I love you, too."

"I know."

They smiled at each other, neither knowing what to say next. For the first time since before she was diagnosed with Lyme disease, Adam felt wholly connected to Joan. All the doubts and worries and fears that had taken up residence inside of him since that day last year, which had been intensified after Judith's death, faded away. In their place was the contentment he'd felt earlier. He'd missed this with her.

"I haven't thanked you."

"For what?" he asked.

She smiled into his eyes. "For taking care of me this year. No matter how irrational I was, you stayed with me. I couldn't have made it without you. So thank you."

"I didn't do anything you didn't do for me last year."

"Still, I appreciate it, especially with everything that happened with Judith. I know that had to be hard for you, happening so close to the day your mother . . ."

"Don't," he said. The shame from that night was clawing its way into his throat, ruining the happiness of a moment ago. "I didn't . . . the way I behaved . . ." he swallowed and tried again. "What happened that night, it wasn't about me or my mom. It was about Judith and losing her and I should've been there for you."

"Adam, no, it . . . I know it . . ."

"I knew how much she meant to you. You needed me when she died and I wasn't there for you."

"Yes, you were."

He shrugged the statement off. "Not when it mattered."

"So everything you did for me afterwards—helping me face her death, supporting me even when I was defiant and insensitive—none of that counts?" Adam looked away, still not ready to accept her forgiveness. "Okay, so no, you weren't there for the big event, but you there through the aftermath. Whether you believe it or not, that's just as important."

"Are you sure?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes," she stressed, smiling. "Besides, Judith's death hit you hard, too, and I was too wrapped up in my pain to help you with yours. Maybe that makes us even."

"Yeah," he said, smiling back. "I guess it does." He leaned across the table and wiped the rest of her tears off of her face, transfixed by the look of pure love on her face. Clearing his throat, he turned his gaze to his hands on her cheeks and asked the question that had been nagging at the back of his mind since he woke up. "Do your parents know you're here?"

"No. After the dream, I just got up and came over," she said. "But I did stop long enough to leave a note in case somebody checked up on me."

Laughing, he said, "I'm sure your dad will be relieved to know that you snuck out in the middle of the night to be with your boyfriend."

"They trust us," she insisted, frowning at him a little.

"Not at four twenty-three in the morning, they don't. Come on," he said, rising. "We should get you home."

Before he had gotten to his feet, Joan was standing next to him, pushing him back on the stool. "I don't want to be alone."

"Your whole family's there, Jane."

"And they should all be asleep," she countered as she settled on his lap. She wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder. "Besides, this is where I need to be."

Adam embraced her, cradling her against his body. Adjusting on the stool slightly so they'd be more comfortable, he kissed the top of her head and began to stroke her hair. She moaned and snuggled deeper in his arms. He grinned, liking her reaction to his pampering, and wished they could stay like this forever.

Joan stared up at him. She brushed the back of her fingers over his cheek. "Do you think we'll make it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Through high school. Do you think we'll make it through high school without breaking up or something awful like that?"

After a moment's thought, he said, "Yeah, I do."

"You seem awfully sure of that," she said, eyebrow raised.

"I am."

"Why?"

"Because you were made for me," he answered with a shrug.

A huge grin lit Joan's face. "That is so cheesy."

"Well . . ."

"And so perfect." She giggled at him. He grinned back, taking in the perfection of the moment. He wondered what it would be like to have moments like this for the rest of their lives. At his soft gasp, Joan tilled her head to the side and squinted at him. "What?"

"What?"

"What were you thinking just now?"

"I was thinking," he started cautiously, still a little weirded out by the intensity of his thoughts, "about what it would be like if we were always together, you know, as a couple."

Joan smiled as her eyes drifted shut. "I'd like that."

"And I had a really strong urge to . . . propose."

Joan's head snapped up. "What?"

Shrugging sheepishly, Adam said, "I thought about being with you for the rest of our lives and it felt right and I almost proposed to you."

She opened and closed her mouth, clearly speechless. After a moment's thought, she said, "You want to marry me?"

"Not right now," he said quickly. "Sometime after we graduate, I guess. It's just . . . I can't imagine ever feeling like this about anyone else but you."

Staring down at him, tears trembling on her lashes, Joan slowly gave him a beatific grin. "Me, either."

Adam didn't know who made the first move but, suddenly, his lips were on hers. Her hands cupped his face and her body arched into his. He gasped, not expecting the increased contact. Before he could talk himself out of it, he swept his tongue over her lips. When her mouth opened and her tongue darted out to touch his, he groaned and pulled her closer. Joan came willingly, burying her hands in his hair. His hand skimmed the soft skin of her belly and slipped under her thin t-shirt. His fingers crept warily up her stomach, certain that she was going to stop him. Instead, she leaned into his touch and, when his hand curved around her breast, his thumb grazing over her sensitive, raised nipple, she gasped into his mouth and pressed closer to him.

With a pained groan, Adam pulled back, ending the kiss and taking his hand from under her shirt. "We should get you home?" he said after clearing his throat of the desire that clogged it.

"I don't want to go home."

"You have to, Jane," he said, staring at her, torn between doing what they both wanted and doing what they both knew was for the best. "If you don't, we'll probably end up doing something we aren't ready for."

Joan didn't answer, her eyes fastened on his mouth. Then, she seemed to shake herself and offered him a weak smile as she slid off his lap. "Walk me to the car?" she asked, holding her hand out to him.

"Of course."

Hand in hand, they left the shed and went around to the front of his house. When they reached the car, he opened the door for her. Joan stepped closer and hugged him. Adam hugged her back, his eyes fluttering closed as he savored the feel of her against him.

"I love you, Adam," she whispered in his ear, sending shivers of happiness down his spine. "I never thought I could love someone so much."

"Me, too," he whispered back. "Just as much."

Leaning back, Joan brushed her mouth over his before stepping out of his arms. "See you later?"

Nodding, he said, "I'll meet you at your locker."

"Aren't you optimistic," she observed with a laugh. "Let's aim for Physics."

"Deal," Adam agreed, pressing his lips to hers for one last kiss.

She got in the car and took his hand in hers, giving it a loving squeeze. "Good night."

"Good night," he replied. "Be careful."

"Always."

He closed her door as she buckled her seatbelt then stepped back as she revved the engine. With a final wave, she pulled off.

Adam watched until her taillights disappear around the corner. Then, running a hand through his disheveled hair and smiled, he made his way back to his shed. He turned off the lights and went into the house, the feel of her in his arms, her smiles and sighs and scent rolling around in his memory. Closing his bedroom door behind him, Adam absently changed into his nightclothes and got in bed. It was almost five; he had to get up in an hour and a half. A grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. He could hardly wait for A. P. Physics.