Title: Finding The Hay In The Needle Stack
Rating: T [for suggestive themes; language]
Pairing(s): Wade/Zoe; minor George/Lemon
Summary: She's frustrating, confusin', and quite possibly the most stubborn person I've ever met. Yet here I was, about to board a plane to the biggest city in America because I'm absolutely crazy about her.
Author's Note: Hello and welcome to my latest creation! When I first watched Hart of Dixie, this idea planted itself in my head. After much thought, I've decided I would take on the challenge of writing an actual story for this archive. I really hope you enjoy reading this story if you plan on sticking through with it. This chapter is a sort of prologue, if you will. The entire story will alternate between Zoe and Wade's P.O.V's each chapter.

ATTENTION: I've re-uploaded this chapter because I have decided to challenge myself with writing in 1st person. There rest of this story will also be in 1st person and will alternate between Zoe and Wade's P.O.V each chapter. If you've read this before I changed it, then you don't have to read it again because it's basically the same, I just tweaked a few things. However, I would really appreciate to hear any thoughts of which version is better. I really appreciate you're cooperation guys and I apologize for the sudden change of plans.

Enjoy!

"Sometimes our light goes out, but is blown again into instant flame by an encounter with another human being."

- Albert Schweitzer

.Prologue.

.Zoe.

A chilling wind pricks at my cheeks and exposed arms causing goosebumps to crawl along my skin. I bite the inside of my cheek as I yank open the door and stumble inside the gate house - I refuse to refer to the tiny apartment-sized abode as my 'house' because at this moment, I can't call it home. I slam the door with so much vigor that for a moment, I'm genuinely surprised the old rickety thing didn't break off of the hinges. Furiously, I swipe at the tears that are unwillingly escaping from my eyes with my left hand and from my right hand, drop an empty bottle of cheap wine onto the hard floor. In an instant, I'm standing in front of my bedroom closet, snatching out the biggest suitcase I own and tossing it onto my bed. Like a whirlwind, I'm flying around the room from drawer to drawer, throwing anything I had to my name chaotically into the open case. I was never one for vulgar language - mom had always said intelligent people don't need to say such words - yet here I was, muttering profanities left and right like they were the only pieces of vocabulary I knew.

Of course, it didn't take long for my actions to go uninterrupted; someone was pounding on my front door and hollering my name from outside. For some reason that I don't quite understand, I ignore whoever the person is. Although my guess is Lavon or Wade. Almost as if in a trance-like state, I continue to shove things carelessly into the suitcase. It isn't until two hands seize hold of my shoulders that I'm forced out of my mechanical state and back into reality. Where I sure as hell don't want to be right now.

"Doc! What are you doing?"

The hands on my shoulders spin me around quickly. My head protests loudly, not appreciating the sudden rapid movement. When my brain catches up, I recognize the man I'm now face to face with. Wade is looking at me with what could only be concern. It occurs to me now that this is the first time he's looked at me with this particular expression. I'm quick to turn my head away from him and I catch my reflection in the large mirror I had asked Wade to put up on the wall months ago. Underneath my eyes are dark stains from my Rimmel mascara that had run. My brown eyes are red and glazed over, while my dark curls are in a messy tumble past my shoulders. I look a complete mess. And my mind parallels my appearance in it's perpetual state of pandemonium. A million and one thoughts are jumbling together and each individually weighing heavy on my conscience. Never before had I wanted so badly as to scream.

"Doc?"

I strip my gaze away from the reflection, draw in a deep breath to muster up any kind of courage left, and look up directly into his hazel eyes. Ignoring the chaos pounding inside of my head, I try to force out something. Anything that could express the absolute frustration that makes me want to tear out my hair. But instead, a voice from earlier today distracts me and echoes in the back of my mind, clear over all of the other thoughts:

'You don't belong here.'

"I…" I pause. Swallowing hard to open my tightened throat so that my voice doesn't crack or shake. I'm Zoe freaking Hart for crying out loud. "I can't do this anymore."

The words come out emotionless, which I suppose is as good as it's going to get.

"What do you mean by 'this'?" He asks, finger quoting as he emphasizes the word. Only Wade would use finger quotes at a time when a person is shattering to pieces right in front of him. If it had been anyone else, I might have felt offended.

But this was Wade. And I know him well enough to figure out that he's only doing that to try and make me laugh. Or punch him.

I settle with rolling my eyes, because I certainly don't feel like laughing and I don't have the energy to throw a punch. Or the coordination to actually land one on him for that matter. When I look back into his eyes, I immediately cave and start pouring out frantically what's running through my head. "By 'this', I mean everything! I feel like every time I walk down the freaking street I'm throwing myself to the sharks!" I start to feel dizzy and sit down on the edge of the bed and cup my head in my hands, still rambling on. " Everywhere I go, it's always 'It's all your fault, ya know?' or 'Doctor Breeland could have saved them' or 'Go back to where you came from' or -"

"Zoe!" He calls my name. My actual name. Instead of the usual 'Doc'. And as strange as it is to hear off of his lips, I feel a shudder run down my spine that I both love but hate at the same time. His hands grab my wrists and I lift my head to see him on his knees, now level with me. "You need to calm down and think about what you're doing." He glances over at the clumsily packed suitcase then back to me. "You can't just pack up and leave."

I can see on his face, clear as day, that he cares. And, for a moment, I'm reminded that not everyone in this town completely hates me. But I just shake my head. I had made up my mind in the past 24 hours of constant pondering over what was best for me, and everyone else, in this situation. I concluded that there was nothing left for me in Bluebell, Alabama. The reputation I had worked so hard to achieve, was officially shot, patients were dropping left and right for Brick, and soon enough he would have my half of the practice.

All because I couldn't save them.

I failed myself, my patients, and worst of all, my own late-father, Harley. And surprisingly, that was what had hurt the most. Despite the fact that I had never really known the man, it didn't help to stop the heavy feeling of disappointment that I couldn't fill his shoes and keep his tradition alive. Wade releases my wrists and cups the sides of my face, using his thumbs to brush away the few stray tears on my cheeks. His hands are hot against my skin that is still cold from the windy walk home. I lock my eyes with his and see complete seriousness in them. "Zoe, promise me you won't do anythin' stupid?"

I want to laugh. Smile and say 'I promise.', that I would wake up and see him and Lavon at breakfast like every morning. But I would be lying. And I wasn't about to add that to the rapidly growing list of my disappointments. Could I ever live with myself if I let down the only people that still cared about me in this town?

The answer was no. No, I couldn't. There was absolutely no way I was going to stick around just to fail the closest people I had to a family in Bluebell. I had to get out - out of this small town and move on so that the people I cared most about wouldn't be let down. They deserved that much. I suppose everyone was right all along; I wasn't cut out to fill Harley's shoes.

"Zoe-"

I kiss him ferverishly, with all the force I can conjure up. And with my fingers in his hair, I lean back to lay on the bed and take him with me.

This was short, but then again it's a prologue. I realize this prologue may seem a bit out of character, but I kind of had to make it a more serious tone. Thank you for reading and if you have any comments, complaints, or concerns then please review or message me! Especially if you see any grammar mistakes, ALERT ME, please lol. Compliments are always welcome too (;

Looking forward to writing this for you all.