Hey guys! This is my new story! I just recently finished reading TMI, and I thought that there should've been a different ending for Sebastian! If you feel the same way, read on, and hopefully you won't regret it!

Chapter One:

I felt him, before I heard his voice, or even before I saw his long silhouette in the doorway. With my back facing him, and due to the darkness in the room, I knew he couldn't see my tense muscles, or even the way I stood a little too close to the window, or even the fact that I was ready to jump out of it at a moment's notice.

Better be safe then sorry.

"Better be safe then sorry. Is that what you thought while you walked over to that window, Athena?"

I gritted my teeth, his voice, low and mocking, burned my insides. The voice I had yearned to hear, but the voice I resented still.

Sighing, I let the curtains fall, and moved to face my worst nightmare, well everyone's nightmare at this point.

Jonathan Christopher Morgerstern

He was still leaning against the door frame, and I couldn't help the small gasp that left my lips, there was only so much a girl can see in the dark, but been living in it for as long as I can remember, what I could see was enough for my heart to pick up speed, for my stomach to drop, and for my eyes to water. Damnit.

The boy, no man who stood before me, was tall and slender, his posture, as he might want it to appear, was unguarded, even lazy, but I knew better, he was always on guard, years of training and brutality would do that to you.

Many people might say he looked exactly like Valentine, but to me, as my eyes reached his face, he was his own person, and him alone could be adorned with so much beauty, a deadly beauty.

His hair had gotten longer, he had a ragged look to him, which I wasn't used to been associated with him. The Jonathan I knew had always taken care of how he looked, brusque, and neat. Perfect.

His hair looked paper white, in the darkness, his eyes, black tunnels fringed by lashes that cast shadows over his high cheekbones. He wore a white shirt, the sleeves pulled up and there was a red scar ringing his right wrist, like a ridged bracelet. There was a scar across the palm of his hand too, but faded.

"Take a picture, it might last longer." He said, amusement in his expression.

I turned away again, not been able to look at him and fight the feelings I had for him, resentment and hate on one side, and love and devotion on the other. How can one feel both hatred and love for the same person?

"Why have you come?" I asked, my voice coming out hoarse.

"You knew I would, that's why you called the Clave, that's why they'll be here any minute."

"That's not an answer to my question, John." I heard a sharp intake of breath, once he had loved the sound of his name from my lips, he'd loved the way I had let my tongue linger while calling out to him, he had loved me.

Did he still?

"Yes." I closed my eyes, letting the tears fall. He always knows.

"Go, you've still got time, they wont be here for another 10 minutes, the time was specific, so were my instructions."

"You'll get in trouble." He said softly, and I gasped, he had moved, when or how I didn't know- to stand behind me, and suddenly his body connected with mine.

I could feel his lean, muscled body pressed against mine, and for a second I forgot to breathe, forgot that I had to breathe to survive.

For so long, I had wanted this, I had wanted him. And now here he was, with me, and it was all I could do not to turn around and put my arms around his neck and kiss him with all I had. Instead I moved towards the door swiftly, there was no time for sentiment. He had to leave, and I was going to help him.

"Jonathan, the Clave will come barging in any minute, please." I pleaded looking towards the empty hallway.

"Come with me." He said, softly, it was as close to pleading, as Jonathan Morgenstern would ever come.

I looked over at where he stood, in the dark I could only see a tall lean figure of a man I once loved, his face covered in the shadows, yet the pallor of his hair and skin, made him look like a ghost, and indeed he was, a ghost from my past, which haunted my dreams, and living days.

"Leave, Sebastian."

And he was gone. Just like that, in a blink of an eye. And the wall against which I stood could no longer hold me uptight. I dropped on the cold hard floor, realization hitting me like a slap across the face.

I had lost him.

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