Hellooooo!

So...Manifest is my favorite show to watch on Monday nights; it's so interesting and captivates me every week with the intense, mysterious storyline. But what I also love to see is Jared and Michaela; I ship them...I love them. I genuinely think he still has feelings for her and all that.

Anyway, this is my first time writing anything related to Manifest. I know there's only a few things on here for that, so here I am, adding to the mix. It's Jarchaela of course. It's a late night, and they're both doing some thinking about life, about each other.

Please enjoy it! xoxo

Still Love You [ONESHOT]

She could try to pretend it didn't hurt her.

She could try to pretend that her stomach didn't clench when someone so much as mentioned that the two people that meant to world to her had found each other in her absence and gotten married. She could try to pretend that her heart didn't break at the mere mention of him starting a family with her. She could just sit there and get on with her life and move on and try to forget about the man that still made her knees feel weak with just his presence.

She struggled to wrap her head around what had happened to her. That damn flight, Flight 828; a flight that had disappeared then reappeared five years later. The passengers felt like it had only been a matter of hours, so it had been a shock when they all landed and life as they knew it had completely changed. Life went on as normal for everyone around them, yet here they were, struggling to find their place.

Michaela couldn't stop thinking about life now…about him. She had been so confident in her decision on the flight; she was going to land and go straight to him and say yes; yes to a future with the man she loved, yes to the kids and the white house with the picket fence – all that good stuff. She had confided in her brother, Ben, during the flight and told him of her decision, a decision that she'd felt so unbelievably confident in, and he supported her whole heartedly, telling her that she had a great guy and that now it was time for her to be happy.

But when she landed, and everything was explained to her, her heart broke. She had missed so fucking much; her niece growing up, the death of her mother.

He had gotten married to her best friend – that's probably what hurt the most; what kept hurting.

Her niece growing up was something she could deal with as she still saw her constantly. Even her mother being dead was something she could deal with – as hard and painful as it was, she could accept that her mother was no longer suffering and that she would always be around her. But this marriage between the love of her life and her best friend – she couldn't deal with it. Every time she saw him at work and caught sight of the glistening, silver band on her finger, her stomach clenched, and her heart broke a little bit more. When her best friend came to work to visit the man, she ducked her head down and simply waved in her direction as she couldn't face looking at them. This was the hardest thing; so fucking hard.

Three weeks since she'd been home and it wasn't getting any easier.

Glistening tears slipped down her cheeks as she looked through the photo cloud on her iPad; pictures of her and him from five years ago, smiling and laughing and kissing and looking so in love. Her sister in law had told her that it was time for her to move on, that it had been five years and things had changed, but how could she move on when it felt like she hadn't even been gone that long? How could she move on when she could barely get her head around the fact that her lover and her best friend had married each other and were planning to have a family?

How could she move on when things still hurt so fucking bad and felt so fucking raw?

Her finger swiped across the screen and another picture popped up; five years ago, a summer afternoon, a picnic in Central Park. She was seated between his legs and he had his chin on her shoulder. She was holding the camera in front of them for the photo and they were smiling; the smiles that reached their eyes and highlighted the love between them. They had been so deliriously happy before the universe decided to fuck them up. She wondered what the fuck she had done to deserve this life, to deserve this pain. She felt angry, yet she had no reason to be, heartbroken, everything. Five fucking years had gone by instead of five hours, and with the passing of those five years, she had lost everything that had meant to her.

She lost him.

He could pretend that everything was okay.

He could pretend that he didn't miss her – the way her hair smelled, the way her fingers linked with his when she held his hand, the way she fit so perfectly in his arms when they held each other. He could pretend he didn't feel the guilt when he looked at her and when he looked at his wife. He could pretend that he wasn't wishing for things to be different, that he wasn't wishing for someone else to be in his arms with his last name with his ring on.

He could pretend that his heart didn't ache at the sight of her.

Five years – that's how long it had been. After the first year and a half of searching for any sign of her, Jared began to lose hope. He spent countless nights on the sofa of her apartment, wondering if that particular night would be the night that she came waltzing through the door with some explanation as to where she had been. He couldn't count the number of nights he'd dreamed of her standing over him, waking him to tell him that she was finally home, only for him to properly wake up and realize that it was all a dream. He'd spent endless hours actually crying as he held her pillow, inhaling her scent and praying for her to come back.

Lourdes was there – she was hurting as she missed her best friend terribly, but she was there. They grew close and found happiness in each other, and after receiving a blessing from his presumed dead lover's parents, they ended up becoming engaged and later getting married. Things were great, they were happy – well, they had been happy. She still was, but he wasn't so sure anymore.

The day he saw her again; he could remember it so vividly. It had been like a dream and he was wondering if he was about to wake up. She hadn't aged one bit; her hair was still in place, eyes still shimmered in the lights, her figure still as lean as ever. Feelings that he thought he had gotten over came rushing back, harder and stronger than ever as if there was something drawing him towards her. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped when he saw her eyes flick to the silver band on his finger. Lourdes had walked up at that moment as well and greeted him with a peck on the cheek, and he saw her turn away quickly. He'd felt so guilty then.

He still felt guilty.

But he didn't have a reason to feel guilty, really. He had moved on with his life, found happiness and comfort in someone he trusted. Yet, that didn't stop him from feeling so guilty like was cheating on her; and it certainly didn't stop him from feeling guilty towards his wife. Lourdes was a wonderful woman, someone that made him happy and healed his shattered heart. But she wasn't her; and that's what scared him. It scared him that no matter how long it had been, the feelings had come rushing straight back as soon as he had seen her again.

Yet here they were, in two different parts of life. He was married and discussing a family with Lourdes; she was single and alone and dedicated to her job as that seemed to be the only thing she had. He felt like he should just leave whatever it was with her in the past and focus on the future that was currently laying in his arms, sleeping like a log.

But how could he leave her in the past when he was so drawn to her? It went beyond the fact that they were partners at work. They were connected just like they had been – as if only five hours had passed and not five whole years.

Three weeks since she had been back, and this wasn't any easier to deal with.

He slipped out of the bed, careful not to wake his wife, before throwing on a hoodie and some sweats. He stuck his feet into his shoes, then headed downstairs. He left his wife a note to tell her that he was going to clear his head, before he then grabbed his keys and headed to his car.

There was one place where he wanted to go, and while he knew it was wrong, he couldn't stop himself.

She had only just laid herself down under the covers of her comfy bed when her phone began to buzz on the night stand. She grabbed the phone and took a look, rolling her eyes when she caught sight of the name. He would call her just after she had spent half the night crying over him; typical. She was convinced the universe was just punishing her for simply existing now.

She sighed and composed herself, then slid her finger across the screen to answer; "Hello?"

"Come outside."

She rolled her eyes as an irritated sigh escaped her lips; "Jared, did we gotten called in? I'm trying to sleep."

"Mich, please," she could hear the plea in his voice; "I'm outside your house right now; just come outside – I want to talk to you."

She rolled her eyes yet again, shaking her head as she replied; "Give me a minute."

Without waiting for a reply, she hung up the phone and hopped out of bed. She pulled a hoodie on with her tank top and yoga bottoms combo, then slipped on a pair of sneakers and tied her hair into a ponytail. She moved quietly through the house and slipped out of the front door, sighing slightly as she spotted Jared standing beside his car which was parked along the curb.

"What is it?" her voice captured his attention, and it was only then that she saw the tears in his eyes. Immediately concerned that it was something to do with Lourdes, she rushed down the steps and straight over to him.

"Jared, what's wr-"

She was cut off by his lips crashing over hers.

Every part of her was screaming at her to stop but she didn't; she grabbed onto the material of his hoodie, tilting her head as their kiss deepened under the moonlight. They forgot about their partnership, the cases, his wife, the last five years – they forgot about everything.

All that mattered right now was the kiss that spoke volumes – the kiss that only meant one thing;

I still love you, and I always will.

It was a short little thing. Leave some feedback guys; let me know what you think. Maybe I'll write another on another day! Until next time xoxo