Disclaimer: The world of Bridge to Terabithia is not mine; it belongs to Katherine and David Paterson, Disney, Walden Media, etc. No profit is being made from this story.

A Note on the Rating: Mild coarse language.

In the Trees

The initial thing he realized was that he was laying on a hard, cold surface. Wind was whirling in his ears, and his eyes seemed to sting in his sockets. Every part of his body was numb.

The first thing to return to him was his hearing. He could make out the faint sounds of air moving, and he could feel the cold breeze deaden his cheeks. Somewhere something was rushing along at a rapid pace…was it water? Crickets sang softly in the background. The thing that was the loudest was his own breathing—it came in great gasps, making his ribs expand as far as they could and his heart pound like a bass drum in his chest. He felt himself rise slowly back into his body, as if he was coming out of a blackness that was keeping him from being in control of himself.

The foremost thing he found was his heart. It was thudding so hard he thought it might rip open inside of his chest. It drummed against his bones with such force it made them ache, but it was a good ache, like rubbing sore shoulders or stretching after a long car ride. As his heart went on its wild rampage, he slowly found his way through his skeleton again. His arms and legs felt hot, as if they were on fire. His nose, fingers and toes tingled like they had fallen asleep. Even his ears and hair seemed to be alive with a new definition he had never before experienced. It was invigorating, how his body seemed suddenly stronger, maybe even invincible. Invincible, yes, that was the right word. It was as if the feeling he got while running a race or fighting Squogres with Leslie had come to life inside of him. Nothing would hurt him ever again, not as long as he felt like this. There was no way anything could hurt him now, not when he felt so…wonderful. It just wasn't possible.

Slowly, his eyes fluttered open. He realized, after a few moments of blinking and muted groans, that he was lying on his back, on a bed of dried pine needles, under an inky blue sky. It was night, he suddenly could see. A blanket of stars hung overhead, like millions of tiny fireflies, and in the distance was the silvery glow of the full moon. The pine trees seemed to touch the heavens, bleached colorless by the nighttime. They stood, tall and unmoving, like silent black soldiers of protection, guarding anyone who happened to be nestled beneath them. Owls hooted and crickets sang, like a symphony of contentment, making the woods seem like a haven of soft grays, blacks and whites that would hide him from anything that may be looking for him. He was safe here.

Rolling onto his side, he eventually pushed himself onto his hands and knees, then rising to his feet. Brushing the dirt and needles off of himself, he slowly wiggled around inside of his clothes. Jeans, sneakers, a T-shirt, and a coat, from the feel of it. He looked down to see if he was right. Sure enough, he could just make out the vibrant yellow color of his old rain jacket.

Huh, he thought to himself. I don't remember putting this on. I didn't even think this old thing fit anymore…

Though it had been a good half a decade since the garment had been purchased, it had always been a hair on the big side. As he moved around, however, he noticed the flaws: The material was much too tight across his now broad shoulders, and his arms, now much longer and wider than they had once been, screamed for space inside of the sleeves. The gathered material that used to hug his wrists now sat quite high up on his arms, and the tails that had at one point hung well past the back of his knees now barely brushed his waist. But the cotton that lined the inside was just as warm, soft and comforting as it had always been, and when he pressed his nose against the seam that connected the hood to the rest of the coat he could make out the scent of damp pine, a permanent odor that always stayed there no matter how often his mother washed it. That first spring in Terabithia went along with that piece of clothing, that period of his life. Some things, he knew, were just too strong to vanish, no matter how long ago the actual events had occurred. Leslie, and his relationship with her, was one of those things as well.

The name of his fair haired companion jogged a memory in his brain that gave him insight into where he was and why exactly he was there.

He had been fighting with his Dad, as he had been for the past few months. The two had grown somewhat closer after he met and befriended Leslie, but it was never quite as warm and open as it was between his father and May Belle, or Joyce Ann. After Ellie got her grades back on track and moved out of the house to go to college in DC two years before—with Brenda following suit the next year—Jack and Mary no longer had to worry about their smart-mouthed daughters. "If they make hell out of their lives now," Their father said, "it's their fault, not ours."

May Belle and Joyce Ann kept the same lively, sweet, and well-mannered dispositions they had possessed since infancy, so they presented no problems to their parents. In the end, it was Jesse that caused strife in the Aarons home. Tonight, like all the others, resulted in a heated argument over dinner, the topic the same as always. Leslie Burke.

"You're obsessed with that girl, Jess," His father had stated matter-of-factly in between bites of meatloaf.

Dinner that night, like most meals in the Aarons household, had been relatively quiet, standard conversation included the stereotypical round of "what did you do today?" at the meal's start, then followed by May Belle's argument that she felt like a five year old drinking milk with everything, and that she should be allowed to drink Coke like her parents and Jess, which made her father respond: "We don't wanna get you hooked on caffeine, May. It's an addiction, and one of these days we're all gonna end up lapping day old milk outta the bank's hand in order to pay for our house,". This frightened Joyce Ann—who was now seven and felt rather grown up—who would then be soothed by her mother before being told to eat her tomatoes. The five would slip into a silence after that, with the occasional, "Pass the potatoes, please," or "Hand me the Coke bottle," to go along with the sound of utensils scraping plates. Then, at random, Jack would announce that his son's fixation on the blonde haired girl had to, at some point, come to an end. All noise would cease. Mary would put her head in her head in her hands; May Belle would pick a crack in her plate and stare at it for the rest of the meal. Jess would assume the same position his Dad was in: Back erect, jaw locked, eyes ever so slightly narrowed. His fingers would tighten around his fork, and he would stab an arbitrary piece of food with particular strength. Only Joyce Ann was oblivious to the change in atmosphere—she would merely begin swinging her legs back and forth under the table and humming Mary Had a Little Lamb to herself at a very low volume.

The way Jack approached the topic of his son's friend varied by day. Sometimes it was: "Jesse, your mother and I are concerned, and I think you know the reason why…" This statement wasn't entirely true. Mary had long since given up on breaking the devotion her son had to Leslie, realizing that trying to shatter it only caused him pain. But her husband was stubborn, a trait that had skipped all of her children except Jess. Putting the two of them together with Leslie Burke as the topic was never a good thing. Usually she only came up every few months, no one in the house really talked about her. But lately she had been everywhere—especially in Jess's case. Not only had his father resumed speaking about her, but a fascination with her had seized him with an almost psychotic frenzy over the last month. She was the subject of every drawing, she lurked in every thought. Her voice, her laugh, rang in his ears; her face was etched into his eyelids. She starred in his dreams even more frequently, playing the lead in fantasies and nightmares alike. Her name burned his tongue like acid, begging to be uttered, even whispered into the darkness, but he never spoke it. If he did, the stony look that was currently staring him in the face would take over his Dad's countenance. Still, he tried to be as close to her as he could without anyone noticing. But his parents must have noticed him going off into the woods every day after school, every Sunday after church…their woods…

"Jack…" Mary began hesitantly. "Don't you think obsessed is a bit of a strong word…?"

"No, because that's exactly what he is," He retorted hotly, eyes never leaving his son's face.

"I'm not obsessed, Dad," Jess stated calmly.

"Do you honestly think I'm that stupid, boy?!" His voice was raising an octave per word. "I'm not, Lord help me Jesus, I'M NOT!"

"I never said you were," His voice was deadly still as he popped a roasted parsnip into his mouth.

"Dammit, Jesse!" He shouted, shoving his chair away from table and rising to his feet.

"Jack, language…" Mary whispered; her quiet reprimand lost in the sea of anger.

"Do you think I don't see, boy?! Do you think all of us don't see?"

"What's there to see, Dad?" His voice, though still a monotone, was beginning to attain an edge.

"She is everywhere!" He yelled. "I've seen the drawings; I've heard you talk in your sleep. Do you remember what those dreams are about?! I'm wondering if you're watching pornography, the things you say! It's sick, absolutely sick. The way your mouth moves…every time you open it, her name is right there. I've seen you choke it back. The way your eyes dart around every time you enter a room or someone else does. You think we can't see what—or should I say who—you're looking for?! It's in the eyes, son. You're as smitten with that girl as anybody can be. It's not normal, it's not healthy. I've told you before and I'll tell you again: It. Has. To. Stop. NOW."

"She has a name, you know!"

"Oh, JESUS CHRIST!" Jack bellowed. "You think we don't know her name?! You think we haven't watched you fall in love with her?! Do you think we don't know her as well as you do, the way you talk?! I've put up with it Jess, and I'm damn tired of hearing the name Leslie. Quite honestly, I think I'll explode if I hear it again."

Jess's eyes were empty as he stared at his father. The monotone returned as he stated one simple word:

"Leslie. Leslie Sophia Burke."

The act had served its purpose. Jack began to shake with fury, his cheeks stained scarlet.

"Out," He growled.

This threw Jess for a loop. "What?"

"Get out of my house. I'm so angry I can't even look at you right now. Get. Out."

"Oh, gladly," He spat in return, jumping up angrily from his chair. He grabbed the keys to his pickup off the hook by the door and slammed the screen behind him, shutting himself inside the icy truck cab before gunning the old diesel to life and speeding off into an arbitrary direction. He realized now that he must have subconsciously driven to Terabithia. He was safe there. She was safe there.

Judging by the appearance of the sky, it was a great deal later than when he had left the house. Sighing, he began to walk in what he believed to be the direction of the creek. However, he appeared to be going the opposite way. After about five minutes of travel he found himself by the rusty old car, the wind chimes on the mirror rattling softly in the breeze. Thunder clapped viciously overhead. He started. The weather hadn't said anything about thunderstorms tonight…still; it was Lark Creek Virginia, land of rain.

It had rained so much that spring…

Jess shook his head vigorously, trying to clear his thoughts. While lost in his own ponderings he had neglected to notice some things about his surroundings. One, it had started to rain. It wasn't heavy, only a drizzle, but the top of his head was already soaked with water. And two, he was now closer to the tree house than he was to the creek or his truck…speaking of which, where was his truck? He didn't remember seeing it anywhere near him. And why had he been laying on the ground, anyway? What was wrong with him?

Just as a feeling of fear was beginning to bubble in his stomach, he noticed something unusual. There was a light on in the tree house.

It was a warm, faint glow, like one from a flashlight, burning calmly against the pale brown canvas that created one of the fort's walls. What was a light doing on up there?

Quickly, he walked up to the decrepit building, taking hold of the old rope tied next to the ladder that he had used the first day he and Leslie had found it. As he climbed, he couldn't help but marvel at how well it was holding up beneath his weight. Sixteen was a big change from eleven, and he hadn't expected it to last as long as it did. It felt like steel in his hands, the tree not even groaning. And it may have been the illusion cast by the moonlight, but the whole tree house seemed better, stronger. Like it would be there in a hundred years, or two hundred. Maybe it would even be there long after everything else was gone, with its majestic stillness, just waiting for someone to come and bring Terabithia to life again, even though there were no more people left. It, and what it represented, was immortal.

Lord, He thought to himself as he hoisted his body onto the porch as quietly as possible. You're starting to think like Leslie…

He eased himself halfway through the doorway, looking around. To his surprise, a small lantern fit for camping was resting on the floor right inside the frame. But that bulb wasn't strong enough…

As he turned to the right, however, he discovered another lantern. It was sitting on the floor, next to the canvas wall and just in front of the low little bookcase. However the thing that held his eye was not the light, but the person sitting next to it. It was a girl; slim as a fairy's child, in sneakers, a white turtleneck, blue jeans, and a deep cranberry rain jacket. She had hair so pale it was almost white, but deep ruts of golden red shone simply in contrast. Her knees were pulled into her belly, arms wrapped tightly around them with her fingers clasped. Her chin rested atop them, making the white blonde locks into a curtain to shield her face. She didn't look up at first, until at last he whispered her name.

"Leslie?"

The girl looked up slowly, her shell pink lips holding a soft, lopsided smile. Her blue eyes smiled at him too, just as they always had. Her skin was even paler than it had been, now a smooth alabaster, tinged with rose.

"Hi Jess," She said, her voice just as soft and sweet as he knew it to be.

"Wha-wha…" He stuttered, and her smile grew.

"What am I doing here?" He nodded. "This is where I have to be. I wouldn't be me without it,"

"Leslie," He whispered again, taking a few steps closer. "Hi,"

She giggled quietly, and his ears drank up the sound.

"Hi to you too, silly."

She rose to her feet, walking towards him. He took a few hesitant steps of his own, but she was much faster, so much more confident than he was, and quickly closed the gap between them with a few of her gazelle like strides. Within moments, they were only inches apart.

"I can't believe how much bigger you are than me," She grinned, sliding one of her dainty hands under his coat to rest it on his shoulder. "I'm such a shrimp!"

"No, you're not," He told her, though even as he spoke he stared down at the top of her head. He now towered over her by a good half a foot, probably more. Although he would never tell her, he had to admit that she was quite tiny. She couldn't be any more than five feet and a few inches, while he was centimeters away from being as tall as his father, who was a little over six foot.

"Yeah, I am." She giggled again, turning her face upward to grin at him. It was so angular, so exact, and so…delicate. As she stood in front of him, he realized how fragile she felt, how at any moment this would end, he would wake up, and she would disappear…

"What?" She whispered, and he blinked, now aware that he had been staring at her mindlessly for the past couple of seconds. He searched her eyes briefly. They weren't disgusted or embarrassed, only curious, as usual. Her hand was still on his shoulder.

"I uh, just can't believe that old coat still fits you," He barked a dry, monosyllable chuckle.

"Kind of," She replied, looking away from him to pull on the edge of the garment. "But not nearly as well as yours seems to!" She laughed again, pulling on one of the drawstrings attached to the hood with the hand that wasn't already on his shoulder.

"Oh, yeah," He grinned. "It is small, I admit. To be honest with you, I don't even remember putting a jacket on before I left my house,"

Her eyes flashed with a sort of remorse and disappointment he couldn't understand or place. But before he could ask her what was wrong, it had gone away.

"I think I'm gonna take this off now," He said after another moment of simply staring his long-time best friend in the face.

She agreed. "Me too."

Both of them shrugged out of the garments and tossed them into a corner before turning to face each other again.

"We match," He declared suddenly.

"Huh?"

"We match. Look," He took one hand and placed it in the crack between the two of them, starting at his chest and moving all the way down to the middle of his thighs.

"Oh, we do, don't we?"

And they did, to some extent. Deep navy blue on the bottom, and snow white on the top. It was strange, he thought, that their garments matched so precisely, when they themselves we so completely different. She was a blonde so pale it was almost white; he was a brown so dark it could be called black. Her skin was light, like a fresh snow, and his was a few shades shy of russet brown. He was tall, she was short. He could paint a picture with the detail of a photograph, but he could never seem to put the same detail into his words. She knew nothing but the words he couldn't speak. They were polar opposites, but when you put them together they created a more complete person than two of the most identical minds.

"What's wrong with you tonight?" She asked him softly, bringing her hand up to his shoulder again. One of her fingers brushed against his neck, and he was surprised by the warmth that graced that area of his skin.

"Nothing…" He stuttered, and he was lying. She knew it too, but didn't say anything. Why, he couldn't comprehend. Didn't she understand that everything was wrong with this situation?

"Jess," Her voice seemed to get lower every time she spoke. He had to lean his head forward a bit just to hear her.

"Yes, Leslie?"

"You said…earlier, you said you didn't remember putting on a jacket before you left your house. And I was just wondering…why exactly did you leave?"

"My Dad told me to leave the house," He stated simply. "We were fighting. Again. We've seemed to do nothing but fight these days," The words were beginning to rush up his throat faster than he could say them. "But I can't help but get angry at him. When he talks like that to me, when he says those things…he makes me so mad. I just…I just…I just want to kill him, when he starts talking about…" He stopped. He had said too much. It was too easy to tell her everything…

"When he talks about what? What makes you so angry, Jess?" She was only centimeters away from him now, and breathing normally, even thinking clearly, was becoming rather difficult.

"Tell me," She whispered so low it was almost inaudible. Slowly, she brought her forehead forward and ever so lightly rested it on his. His breathing sped up dramatically, and the fact that she could hear it made his cheeks burn.

"You," He told her, voice breaking. "He talks about you. I've taken a lot of crap from him over the years, but that is one thing I cannot, and will not, put up with. I hate it when he talks about you like that."

"What does he say?" She asked her voice still even.

"Tonight…tonight he really lost it. We've been fighting every night for a couple of months now…"

"Every night?Over me?"

"Uh huh,"

"Jess…"

"Just hear me out, Leslie, please." Suddenly he wanted her approval more than anything in the world.

"Okay,"

"So like I was saying, we've been fighting a lot. But tonight was worse…"

"How so?"

"He's never been quite so…blunt before. Usually he kind of hedges around it, and tries to feed me some excuse like 'Your mother and I are worried about you, and I think you know the reason why…' But tonight he just kind of lost it. Smack in the middle of dinner, with Mom and May Belle and Joyce Ann all there, he just announces…he told me I was obsessed."

"And it hurt your feelings?"

"Not so much my feelings as my pride," He admitted sheepishly. "I was getting cocky, I think. It's been so long…I thought they would forget…because they think I'm going to forget…well I won't! I won't. I can't. It's my only way of surviving, Leslie."

"I know," She murmured soothingly. "Its okay, Jess. Is that all that happened between you and your Dad?"

"Not exactly. Like I said, I was getting cocky. I didn't think they would notice me going into the forest every day…"

"Every day?"

"Except Saturday, yes. Terabithia's the only thing I've…we've got. But I didn't think they would notice…I thought May was too young then…I didn't think she would recognize you in my drawings. But she did. You make a lasting impression, I guess," He grinned easily. "I apparently talk in my sleep, too…"

"What do you say?"

"I don't really know. They never told me until tonight, and I didn't bother to ask what I said."

"Is that all that happened?" The way she said it…it was as if she knew that there was so much more, as if she knew the thing that had given him the biggest blow, because he knew with every fiber of his being that it was true…

"You're as smitten with that girl as anybody can be…do you think we haven't watched you fall in love with her!?"

"Pretty much," He lied, his voice husky with guilt.

"Okay. Thanks for telling me."

"You're welcome."

For a good period of time they stood there in silence, neither of them moving. After a while, thunder clapped overhead and the rain finally unleashed its powers upon the Earth, drumming against the tin roof of the tree house with such force it made Jess's ears ring. It was the thudding tempo of the rain that gave him the courage to whisper the words he had no intention of letting her hear.

"He told me he thought I was in love with you,"

But it was Leslie, and of course she could hear. She knew his voice better than anyone's.

"And do you?"

A wave of panic jolted through him. "What?"

"Is your Dad's assumption correct? Are you in love with me?"

She was so calm, so steady. Like a sickle moonbeam, standing there with a perfect stillness. So real, so flawless…but with that question, she offered him a dare that he would lose either way. And in that moment he completely lost control of the rage, of the hurt, and the truth he had been pushing to the back of his mind ever since arriving in Terabithia now changed through him with a determination that made his temples throb.

"What does it even matter?!" He shouted at her, over the cracks of thunder and lightning and the crazed beat of the raindrops. He jerked away from her, backing up quickly, within seconds he was already standing by the doorway. "What does it matter if I do? It's not going to make a difference. We can't change anything. It's too late! No matter how much I pray, or hope, no matter how perfect this little illusion seems, nothing in the real world is going to change. You're DEAD, Leslie!"

Her face, however, portrayed no pain or sadness, no surprise or anger. Nor did she disappear into a puff of smoke as he expected her to; he was not awoken by his alarm or one of his sisters. Her pretty face, which had aged perfectly along with him, only smiled at him softly. Her voice was low and full of sympathy and peace when she spoke.

"So are you,"

He froze. His heart seemed to stop. "What're you talking about? I'm not dead!"

"Yes you are. You said you remembered getting in your pickup after fighting with your Dad, right?"

"Well, yeah…"

"What happened after that?"

"I don't know," He finally whispered. "I got in the car and I was driving…and then suddenly, I was in Terabithia. I figured I had subconsciously driven myself here, because I felt safe, I was near you…"

"But you weren't in your truck, were you?" She smiled warmly, approaching him slowly. "You were lying on the ground, on a bed of dried pine needles, under the stars and the moon. Your body ached, and you felt like you didn't have control over yourself anymore. But suddenly you did. And you felt stronger, and safe, like nothing would ever hurt you again, right? And you tried to walk back to the creek, to get home, but you wound up by the tree house instead,"

"How did you…"

"That's what happened after I fell," She smiled. "We're in paradise, Jess. Those stories about God and Heaven and Hell you and May Belle hated so much, they're real. We're in the Heaven the Bible described right now. We made it!"

"But why does it look like Terabithia?" He asked, still skeptical. "I always pictured clouds and rainbows and little fat babies with wings like the paintings in church."

"Heaven is Paradise, Jess. Didn't you pay attention during that sermon? It is the ultimate place of happiness and safety and truth. And to you, that was Terabithia."

"And you're here because you'll make me happy, right?" His voice grew husky again; unaware of the emotional weight he had just tied on to the conversation.

She smiled broadly. "Yes and no. You see, Terabithia is my Paradise too, mostly because of you. We're here together because both of us are imperative to Terabithia being a place of comfort and protection. Great minds think alike, Jess. In order for Heaven to be a completely happy place, we need each other."

"Wow," He said.

"I know,"

"So…I was wondering. You know what happened to you, why you died. Why don't I know?"

"You're new," She shrugged. "All of that will come in time."

"Oh. So…what did happen to me?"

"You crashed," She whispered. "They say you should never drive when you've been through a truly emotional experience, and fighting with your Dad again really tore you up. You weren't paying attention, you were going too fast…and you just crashed. Head on, into a tree."

"Oh."

She closed the small distance between them, pulling him into a hug. He didn't stand there immobile and awkward, as he had the first time. This time, he was ready. He returned the gesture, pressing his face against her hair while she buried hers in his shoulder.

"I really missed you, Leslie." He mumbled.

"I missed you too Jess. A lot. I'm so glad you're here now,"

"You got older," He said. "I wasn't really expecting that."

"I won't age anymore, and neither will you. See, my getting older was one of the things that made me happy. I didn't want to be the same little cheeky eleven year old when you got here. I wanted to be the same age as you. And now that you're here, I don't have to worry about it anymore."

"Oh," He repeated again, unable to place the feeling of warmth that was swelling inside of his gut.

When she still didn't let go after a good two minutes, he decided to ask another question.

"I'm curious…" He began.

"Aren't you always?" The smile was evident in her voice.

"You said that this was only Paradise with both of us here. And not to sound narcissistic or anything, but how were you happy if…?"

"If you weren't here with me?" She finished.

He chuckled throatily, embarrassed. "Yeah."

"I got to watch you,"

"Watch me?"

"Yeah. You know, see what you were doing, be around you…but you never saw me. No one ever saw me. But I could see everything you were doing as clearly as if I were right there with you. It sustained me, still getting to be around you, to hear your voice, to watch you draw…I felt happy, especially after you showed May Belle Terabithia. I knew you would be okay after that."

"But I wasn't," His voice seemed to be permanently gruff with emotion now. "Didn't you see me at all over this last month? Over those first five after I lost you? I was about as messed up as anybody could be."

"I know," She sighed. "And in a weird, selfish way, that made me happy too. To know you still thought about me, that you didn't abandon Terabithia. Sometimes, when it would rain at night, you would say my name in your sleep as you tossed and turned and groaned. The sound made you uneasy…I figured you were having nightmares. But to hear my name again, especially coming from you, it almost made me feel like I was still alive."

"I did have nightmares during thunderstorms," He suddenly recalled. "I would see you fall. I would chase after you for miles, screaming your name, but you never turned around, no matter how much I begged or called. And then you would disappear, swallowed up by the creek. I would fall down and start crying. But sometimes…sometimes you came back. You hugged me and told me it would be alright until I stopped, and then you reminded me it was only a dream, and I woke up."

"That was me," She informed him, pulling out of the embrace. He looked at her quizzically. She continued. "Seeing you so upset…it bothered me. I would…I would lie down beside you sometimes, either hugging you or fiddling with your hair until you stopped thrashing. And when you did, I would tell you all the things you dreamed I did until you woke up."

"Oh," He breathed, almost in wonder. "Well, thanks."

"You're welcome."

The rain continued on, pounding down harder and harder. The two of them stood there in silence once more, partly because they wouldn't have been able to hear each other speak, and partly because they just enjoyed being together without having to say anything, like they used to do all those years ago. Rain began to fly in through the doorway, splattering the backs of Jess's legs and hitting Leslie in the face. The two of them moved in synchronization to the center of the tree house, smiling at each other all the while. Leslie then walked closer to him, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. He arched an eyebrow, trying to understand her expression.

"What?" He finally called, having to half-yell over the storm.

She just kept walking until she was very close to him again, then placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned up so she could whisper into his ear.

"You never did answer my question directly, you know."

He could practically feel her smiling by the way her breath tickled the inside of his ear. She knew the answer already; she had to if she really had been watching him all this time. He had already told her once today, in a roundabout way. But of course she wanted an upfront confession. He had been expecting that, he just wished he could put it off a little longer. He decided to tease her, like she was doing to him.

"I'm sorry, Leslie," He tried to be serious. "I don't remember what you asked."

"Yes, you do, dum-dum." She hissed, slapping his shoulder lightly. It didn't hurt—it couldn't, there was no pain in Heaven, so it cancelled itself out, really—but he still winced theatrically. She responded by slapping him again, with a bit more force.

"Perhaps if you reminded me, I could provide you with an answer. Physically assaulting me is not the way to get what you want, Miss Burke." He tried to chide her, but the laughter he was trying to suppress leaked its way into the words.

"You are so annoying sometimes…" Leslie sighed, but all the while she grinned brightly at him.

"Yep," He shrugged, grinning back. "But that's why you love me, right?"

Her eyes became softer, more solemn and serious. Her voice lost some of its volume and teasing. "Absolutely," she agreed, surprising him. "I just wish you would answer my question…"

She looked so hurt and worried—though he knew in the back of his mind it was feigned—that he blurted it out before she was done.

"Yes," He stated breathlessly.

"Yes what?" She actually looked confused, so he provided her with an answer.

"Yes, he was right."

She grinned slyly, and he realized he had walked right into her trap. She was going to make him say it, regardless if he wanted to or not. If he were allowed to feel discomfort in Heaven, he would surely have felt like throwing up at that moment.

"Who was right about what, exactly?" She asked, trying to sound innocent.

"My Dad," He began, not quite ready to give her the whole statement yet. If she was going to force him, she at least had to work for it.

"Your Dad was right?" She didn't seem annoyed, only amused.

"Uh huh." Why the heck wasn't she annoyed?!

"I see. And pray tell; what was he right about?"

He sighed, closing his eyes for a brief moment before opening them again. "You're not going to give up on this, are you?"

"Nope!"

He sighed again. "Alright, alright. My Dad was right about…he was right about…"

"Uh huh…"

"He…Leslie, this is hard!"

"No, it's not, silly! You're the one who's making it that way. You already know my answer; you just have to tell me yours." She smiled at him encouragingly.

"Okay, I guess you're right." He shook his head, wondering how she managed to do these sorts of things to him. "Here goes…my Dad was right about…"

"Oh, Jess, just say it!"

"He was right about the fact that I was—that I am, actually—in love with you. I love you, Leslie Burke. Is that what you wanted me to say?"

"Yes, but only if it's true. Is it true?" Of course she couldn't make this easy for him and cry, like a normal girl.

"Yes it's true! Leslie, please tell me that you know that I would never, ever lie to you. If you should know anything by now, it's that."

"Yes, I know. And…"

"Uh huh…" He grinned at her, causing her to roll her eyes and smile back.

"I love you too. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Yes, if it's true. Is it, Miss Burke?"

"Of course it is, you dum-dum!" She smacked him again before hugging him tightly. "It is absolutely, one-hundred percent, without a shadow of doubt, true." She whispered against his chest, burrowing her face deeper into his shirt. Tentatively, he leaned down and pressed his mouth to the top of her head. He felt her smile.

"I love you," She told him, leaning up to rest her cheek against his shoulder and put her lips to his neck.

"I know," He couldn't stop smiling, even if he wanted to. It felt like his face was frozen that way. "And I love you too."

"I know," She whispered, as if she were embarrassed, shyly hiding her face in his shoulder.

They stood like that for God knows how long, listening to the rain and trying to hide the elation and tiny bits of chagrin that the other had already seen.

"So, um…" Jesse began hesitantly. Leslie looked up at him.

"Yes?"

"What exactly…happens now?"

She suddenly pulled away, the gigantic smile lighting her face again, no trace of apprehension or embarrassment anywhere.

"We continue living, in a sense. We don't have to worry about anything anymore—the sun will come up and go down, but that's it. We control the weather. If we don't want to, we don't have to sleep or eat, bathe or use the bathroom. We don't have to worry about school work or chores. Our clothes will never get dirty, we never have to worry about being too hot or too cold. We get to work together to make Paradise truly paradise."

"That does sound nice…" He found his seriousness melting away as the fact that he would be spending an eternity in Terabithia with Leslie slowly registered in his mind.

"Of course, if we want to experience those things, we can. It's all personal preference, really." Noticing the mildly confused look on her friend's face, she proceeded to provide a consolation. "I know it's a bit confusing and mind-boggling at first. Don't worry. This will all begin to make sense in time, just as knowing why you died will."

"Oh, I see," He said, before launching another question on her.

"Hey, Les?"

"Yeah?"

"You know how you said you would…watch me?"

"Mmhmm?"

"Do you think I could do that from time to time? You know, just pop in and check on May Belle and Joycie…"

"If you want to you can. It's…hard, though. Especially when they're grieving. Since you aren't really in the Holy atmosphere anymore, you are able to feel unpleasant emotions, such as grief, longing and loneliness. You were the only person I could be around for the first year, and only because I nearly went nuts not seeing you. I wanted to do it so bad that I did it automatically, without even having to think about it."

It was secretly amazing to the both of them how they could just stand there, staring at each other, and never seem to get over it. This time it was Jess who broke the magical silence.

"What do you want to do now?"

She thought for a moment, cocking her head to one side like Prince Terrian used to do. Her eyes suddenly lit up with a new idea, and she gasped in triumph. "I know!" She dashed over to the opposite side of the tree house, and reached up onto the shelf that held all the tarps, towels, and extra jackets and socks. As she reached high above her head and rummaged through the mounds of cloth, Jess began to meander around the room, staring at all of it in wonder. Everything was exactly the way it had been before Leslie had died. Nothing was covered in pine needles and dead-looking, like it had been when he visited it the first time after the rope broke. In fact, it was brighter, cleaner, not a weather worn. The structure itself was still aged looking, but Jess reasoned that was part of its character and charm. Everything just seemed…stronger, and a little bit better looked after, like the rope he had used to climb up. All was as it should be: The hand-painted map of Terabithia was still tacked up on the wall, along with all of his drawings of the Terabithian creatures. Leslie's scuba diving essay from Mrs. Meyers' class was still there too, the A+! still the vibrant red it had been on the day he had pinned it up. It was still half-tucked behind a half-painted drawing of a Squogre, as Leslie had requested. The whole thing had embarrassed her quite a bit then, to the point where she had almost not let him hang it at all. In the end, he had won that argument, and there it was. The long, narrow picnic bench at the back of the room was still littered papers, notebooks, pencils and markers. Leslie's "essentials": summer sausage, Oreos, apples, individual packets of potato chips, granola bars, and bottles of water and lemonade, were still crammed into the handmade shelving units. The bookcase was still overflowing with the battered volumes—from the distance Jess could still make out the bindings belonging to The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, and Through the Looking Glass. Some of his old sketchbooks where there as well.

He began looking for the small details now. Much to his delight, he found everything. The cardboard box of "Emergency Supplies" still sat by the door: A small first aid kit, a box of batteries, a homemade sling-shot, a pencil sharpener, more flashlights, and a Zip-Lock full of dog treats were all covered by a black bandana he had snagged from the greenhouse. An old lawn chair sat in the corner by the picnic bench desk, with an extra pair of high tops—Leslie's—beneath it. The tin bucket trashcan was full of hideous sketches. PT's bed—which was really just an old apple crate and a piece of burlap—was still there, strands of long white hair glistening faintly in the lantern light. The procession of nails along the east wall were still there, housing Leslie's blue purse and a pair of socks—now far too small for him—that had gotten wet one day while he was crossing the creek and he had never gotten around to taking them home. He walked over to the bookcase and pulled out Through the Looking Glass, smiling as he thumbed through the worn pages. Leslie's scribbled notes still littered the margins, favorite passages still underlined, and Jabberwocky! nearly indiscernible because of the purple and blue highlighter smeared over the text. As he was reading the long exegesis Leslie had managed to cram in the margins of pages nineteen and twenty, something caught his eye. It was the pine box that had housed the paint set Leslie had given to him on his eleventh birthday. He walked slowly towards it, reaching out to touch it hesitantly. He rubbed his thumb against one of the brass latches before lifting the lid. All the tubes were still inside, swollen with paint.

His brief moment of wonder was shattered by a loud clatter and triumphant "AHH HA!" behind him. He turned and saw the old radio lying on the floor, obviously knocked down by Leslie, whose arms were now full with what seemed to be two pillows and a mass of plush.

"Leslie, what…" She interrupted him before he had the chance to finish his question.

"Here!" She cried, pelting him with a blob of cloth and a bolster. Instinctually he reached out and caught the objects flying towards his face, nearly falling over backwards. He stared down at the mass of bedding in his arms, trying to make sense of it.

"I figured since we never got to have those campouts we were planning, might as well have one now." She informed him. He looked up and saw her spreading a hunter green sleeping bag over the floor, a blue and white striped pillow on top of it. He looked back at the objects in his arms with newfound clarity. He was holding a sleeping bag very similar to Leslie's, only his was blue instead of green. The pillow matched exactly. Another smile was painted onto his face as he remembered the day they had smuggled them out of the Burke's hall closet, already planning their summer vacation and the numerous sleepovers they would have in the castle on humid evenings. Of course, they never had the chance; within two weeks the rope broke, leaving Jess wondering if he could make it through each day, let alone think ahead to the summertime.

"Clever, my Queen." He agreed, setting up his bed dangerously close to hers. After all, what harm was there to it? She noticed, and smirked at him. Smirking back, he reached forward and slipped a stray hair behind her ear. The smirk turned into a smile, and she kissed his cheek, leaving him quite befuddled and embarrassed, which made her laugh.

"I wanna show you something," She announced, skipping over and flipping off all the flashlights and lanterns. "Look," And he did, marveling at the silver moonlight floating through the tear in one of the canvas walls.

"Wow,"

"I know."

Eventually the two of them sat down on their beds, still marveling at the moon and how it could be so bright, even with the gallons of rain still pouring from the sky. For whatever reason, both of them wanted the rain to continue falling, to shroud them in a chilly dampness that would force them to stay together in the warm safety of their abode. It was certainly working—it became colder and stormier by the second. Jess soon became cold—he imagined it was because he wanted to—with the misty night air soaking through his T-shirt. He lay down in the sleeping bag, which was far softer and warmer than any normal sleeping bag could possibly be, and snuggled deeply inside of it, sighing contentedly. Leslie soon lay down as well, scooting closer to him so that she could rest her head on his shoulder. He wondered if she could hear his heart rate increase.

"Are you going to go to sleep?" She whispered to him after a moment.

"I don't know," He answered honestly. "Are you?"

"I don't know either. I was hoping I could stay up and talk to you."

"Okay. What exactly, Miss Burke, do you want to talk about?"

"Everything."

"That's a big range of topics, Les."

"We've got a long time. Forever, if my memory serves me correctly."

"It always does," He smiled.

"How right you are."

"Always am,"

"Don't push it, Jess."

"Hey!"

"Well…"

"Humph. What do you want to talk about besides how I'm never right?"

"I didn't say you were never right, I merely implied that you weren't right all the time. Nobody is, mister easily offended."

"It seems death has done nothing to affect our sarcastic bantering,"

"Nope, it hasn't."

Neither of them was uncomfortable with addressing the fact that they were dead, as both of them had expected to be. It flowed naturally, as simple as the repartee that had come before it. They did lapse into quiet for a second, Leslie readjusting herself on Jess's shoulder and him scooting closer to her.

"You still wanna talk?" He ventured after a moment.

"Of course,"

"Of course. What about?"

"Tell me everything that happened after I died,"

"Weren't you there for most of it?"

"Not really. I would feel better about the whole thing if you told me. That is, if it doesn't bother you."

"It'll be difficult, but I think I'll get through, with you right here and everything." He smiled in the darkness and kissed the top of her head again.

"So…who told you?"

"About you dying?"

"Yeah,"

"My Dad."

"Your Dad?"

Her tone was so incredulous that he had to laugh in spite of himself. "Yup. Why so surprised?"

"I dunno, I guess I always expected your Mom or May Belle to do it…"

"May Belle?!"

"Well, she's so sweet, I figured she could, you know, try and let you down gently…"

He snorted.

"It was just a thought…" She said, defensive.

"Okay, sorry. It's just…May Belle, delivering the news of death…she was just about as crushed by it as I was. She loved you. She was bawling when I got home."

"Oh. Poor thing. So, what exactly did your Dad say?"

The night continued with pretty much the same rhythm, Leslie asking Jess to fill her in on everything up until that very evening. The sun eventually rose, and the clouds parted, casting a warm and peaceful light over the two asleep on the floor, their minds already working on enough questions and conversations to fill an eternity.

Author's Notes: Well, that's it! I hope it wasn't too fluffy or unrealistic. I tried to keep you guys in the dark for a while; I really didn't want to confirm Leslie's death until the last possible moment. I tried to drop clues to make you think one way, and then another. Did I succeed? As far as the depiction of Heaven—since no one really knows what the real Heaven is like, I tried to take the basic idea featured in the Bible and fit it to the story. If enough people like it I may turn it into a two-shot, though be warned, the second installment would be nothing but fluff. :) Please drop a review and let me know what you thought!