Author's Note: Thank everyone for their great feedback. It really means a lot.

Just a note: This is all human. I also wanted people to know that this will be a slower paced story, it won't move as fast as some people may like, but it's not going to move at a snails pace either. I just wanted people to know that so that way they won't be too disappointed when Jake and Leah actually start happening.

I'm still looking for a Beta Reader. If anyone wants to be my Beta Reader, please PM me.

Another Note: This shifts point of view from Leah's to Jake's. You will always know when the point of view changes. I always start the opening paragraph of Jake's point of view in bold. Leah's will always be regular, sans bold, sans italics. I hope this won't confuse anyone in the near future.


Europa


The aftermath was dark.

I sat curled up in my parent's old bed. Everything neat and tidy; just the way my mother left it. My mother's things in the exact same place she left them in on her nightstand, her reading glasses, her coaster, and The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath was resting on her nightstand with a red ribbon placed neatly inside — marking her most recent page — with just enough red silk showing. I stared at the book. I reached over and picked it up and clutched it to my chest. I don't even think I was capable of crying anymore. I ran my fingers over the smooth cover of the paperback book. A tingling sensation snaked through my fingertips. I rolled over onto my father's side and stared at his nightstand. It hasn't changed for seven years. It was the exact same when I left six years ago.

His silver watch on the right hand corner, his own pair of reading glasses, and a newspaper dated back February 2011; just a month before he died. I reached over and gently grabbed the newspaper and clutched it to me. I held the last things of my parent's. I rolled over to my side and sniffed the bed that had a delightful mix of my mother's soft, lilac fragrance and my father's warm, cinnamon musk. Each scent flew into my nostrils and gave my stomach an empty feeling inside. A feeling I can only chalk up as loneliness. Empty handed we enter this world. Empty handed we leave.

I reached over and grabbed my father's silver watched that still kept perfect time: 9:48 am. I slipped on the watch that he never took off. I admired its beauty. I gently brushed my fingers over the face of the watch and remembered when my father used to tell me; "Leah-Bee, time stops for no man. But, you control the hands."

"Silly, daddy! Clocks don't have hands!" I yelled at him, knowing that I was right and he was wrong. I looked over at my father and cocked my head to the side as I watched him chuckle. Why was he laughing when he was wrong?

"You're absolutely right, Leah-Bee," he said as he grabbed me and tickled me to death. I laughed blissfully.

I heard the door open and I knew it was my brother's light footsteps walking towards the bed. I looked over at him and he stood at the foot of the bed. I sat up and leaned against the headboard. I gave him a small smile that came out more like a grimace. He scuffed his heel once and jabbed his thumb in the direction of the door.

"Billy is here with Jake and Sam and Emily are here to help with funeral plans, Lee. Billy said he would cover most of the funeral, since she was on the council," I nodded, not really caring to talk about the funeral; I had half a mind not to show my face down there. I saw Seth and the tear stains that left tiny traces of their presence on his face. His shirt was rumpled and wrinkled and his eyes had slight bags under them. His eyes held such a desperate need. A need I don't know if I'll be able to give. I gave a puff of air. I open my arms and Seth came rushing in my arms, flopping haphazardly on the bed, messing up the red chrysanthemum embellished comforter in the process. He came tumbling down, faster than Caesar's empire. I encased him in my arms and felt as his body shook with each broken sob that escaped his lips. Tears rushing out his eyes like an uncontrollable regurgitation. He pulled away and I watched the waterfall pour out of his eyes and I silently wondered how much was for the death of our mother.

"Lee, I'm still a baby," Seth wailed, bursting into more tears. His body wracking with uncontrollable sobs, "I don't have a mommy, anymore! I don't have a daddy, anymore! I'm so lost! It's too hard! This isn't how life is supposed to go! Leah~," he dragged my name out, sounding like a three-year old who just lost his mommy in Walmart, "this isn't how things are supposed to be!" He buried his face in my buxom and clutched my shirt in a deathly grip. I stroked his hair lovingly. I rocked him as if he was a five-year old child in my arms. I shushed him, rubbed his back, and combed my fingers through his hair. My baby, my baby brother. My little Sethy. I now knew the little boy in front of me that was hiding in men's clothing. I rested my chin on his head and smiled. Letting my salty tears claim my face as I continued to rock him. I spoke softly into his jet, black mane, reminding me so much of our dad. He looked just like him, too.

"It's okay. I'll take care of you. I promise. I'll never leave you again," I whispered. He was my child now.

The room was silent and the only thing that could be heard was the heartbreaking sobs of a little boy who lost his mommy and his innocence too young; too fast.


"There is no truly way to be great in this world. We are impaled on the crook of conditioning. A fish in the water has no choice that he is. Genius would have it that we swim in sand. We are fish and we drown."

James Dean


I gently nudged Seth away and he sat up straight. He grazed his hand over his eyes to wipe the remains of water off his face. I smiled at him and put my hands on his cheek and brought his face closer and placed a kiss on his forehead. I pulled away and watched silently as the little boy in front of me put back on his men's clothing.

"Cheer up, kiddo. Mom and dad would be mad at us for acting like this," I said with a little pep in my voice. Contrast to what I was feeling just moments before Seth came into the room. But, one of us had to carry the burden. He nodded and allowed a tiny smile to grace his face.

"Yeah, you're right."

"Damn, right." I stood up and held my hand out for Seth to take, just like what he did for me when we were in the small ICU room 712. He looked at my hand and then at me and took my outstretched hand. I pulled him up to his feet. Looking up at him, I gave him a reassuring rub on the back. With a slight nod of his head, I let him walk pass me to go downstairs to where everyone was waiting to discuss funeral plans. With his back turned, I let my face drop, dropping the façade that I was strong enough for Seth's sake. I scrubbed my face with my palms and feeling the exhaustion taking over my body, hypnotizing me. My bones ached from being curled from dusk to dawn. My eyes were sore. And my heart just hurt. From inside its brick house, my glass heart hurt.

I plopped down on the uncomfortable floor by the door. I squeezed my chest where my heart was. Everything was numb. I looked at my parent's bed, staring at how the bed sheets were rumpled, the newspaper laying idly next to the book; out of place. Everything was out of place. Why was it out of place? It's not supposed to be out of place. I slowly stood and walked over the bed. I grabbed my mother's book and placed it where she left it. Grabbing the newspaper, I did the same. Grasping one corner of the comforter, I pulled the blanket up back to the top of the bed where it was. I ran my hand over the embellishments. Smoothening out the creases and wrinkles. I kneeled down and ran my cheek against the fabric, memorizing the way it felt against my skin. Inhaling the scent that was my mother and father; again, and again, and again.

I walked over to my father's nightstand and hovered while I unclasped his watch. Once more, I allowed my fingers to feel the silver of the watch. I brought it to my cheek, the coolness of the metal making the hairs on my arms stand up, leaning into the watch, I imagined it was my father for the very last time. Dejectedly, I placed his watch back in the right hand corner.

I turned around and headed for the door, with one last look, I saw my mother and father on their bed reading their books and newspapers with their reading glasses perched on the bridge of their nose; they looked up and smiled at me, love glistening in their eyes brighter than the sun. I smiled back. I turned around to let them rest and I closed the door.

Resting my back against the door, I bit my tongue and allowed a few tears slip out. I hastily brushed the away and held my head high. I continued my trek down the stairs. Reaching the end of the stairs, everyone in the room stopped whatever they were doing and stared. Everyone expecting me to just drop down and cry. Waiting for the already wounded woman to open her sores and wallow in her misery. An awkward silence passed and I exhaled. I made eye contact with everyone in the cramped living room that was only big enough for four people. Looking around, we're all broken here. I could see the surface wounds on everyone's flesh. Emily was the first to make a move, she walked up to me and hugged me.

I flinched.

She didn't let go. I slowly wove my arms around her and relished in pretending that we were sisters again; sharing the loss of a family member, finding solace in each other, but the feel of her baby bump against my stomach sent the familiar stab of daggers in my back, shattering the dream, and I pushed her off me. She bowed her head lowly in her mistake and slowly made her way back into Sam's arms. I watched her back as she went. I felt jealousy creep its way into my eyes, turning them green as the cozy couple embraced in the silence of the room. I quickly looked away. I saw Billy Black in his wheelchair to the left of his son. Billy had his head down and he looked older than his fifty-eight years of age. His skin was pale and looked like Death would be making a house call pretty soon to get a down payment. I looked over at his son. Someone I could once call my lover and I quickly looked away.

And Misery, ripping and running around the room. Choking everyone. Suffocating them until their faces were black and blue. Sadistically laughing all the while.

Misery loves company.

I looked back at Jacob. The steadiness of his gaze had the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Goosebumps rising on my arms, my legs, my feet. He tore his gaze away when his father grabbed his hand to get his attention, I followed him as he moved his left hand overtop of his father's and talked in hushed tones. I looked at the firm, yet gentle grip he had on his father's hand, the smoothness of his skin, and the length of his colossal hands; reminiscing the way he used to trace his fingers on my stomach. Or the way he would gently cup my cheek. I, absentmindedly, brought my hand to my cheek and leaned into the touch, imaging his hand there. I sighed and slowly drifted back into reality.

Not liking the bitterness of reality, I quickly stalked out of the living room. Murmuring an incoherent "need fresh air" on my way out back on one of the lawn sofas on the porch.

The sky even had the decency to rain—how fitting for the mood. It seems that even the sky is sad for losing its sunshine.

I watched as the rain fell from the sky in a free fall—the sky came falling; landing on the earth like shattered glass. I stalked out from under the cover of the porch and stood in the middle of the backyard. I willed the rain to wash me away with it. I stared as the sky darkened, reminding me so much of my misery. I searched the sky, rain falling on my face, looking for my mother to see if she was there. I silently begged anything to show me a sign that my mother was fine where ever she was. I felt the tears fall in synchronization with the rain forming a bitter symphony. It danced around me in a slow, calm waltz. Showing no mercy.

The sky kept falling.

I just wanted my mommy back. I wanted this nightmare to end. I don't know how much more I can take; my body already had enough battle wounds. It was getting harder to believe that there was a bright side to this suffering. I just wanted to give up. What could I do to change yesterday's sorrows?

I didn't acknowledge Jacob when he stood behind me outside, under the pouring rain. He stood stock still and watched the rain fall like little pallets from the sky. I turned towards him. The wetness from the rain made his clothes stick to his body. His black, cropped hair stuck to his face. His jaw clenched together. Struggling with whatever internal battle that was inside of him.

Suddenly, his hand darted out and grabbed me by my hips and pulled me into his chest. My arms immediately went around his torso. I gripped his black, tailored shirt and dug my nails into the shirt, into his skin. He hugged me tightly, his arms that I used to spend hours in, found me once again.

I gave into the grief.

I cried. I cried at the death of my mother. I cried for missing my father. I cried for Seth. I cried for myself. My poor, pitiful self. I welcomed wracking sobs, the heaving, the hiccups. I allowed everything to take over my body. I gripped Jacob tighter. He did the same.

"Don't let me go!" I screeched into his chest. He just placed his chin on top of my head and brought one hand to stroke my tangled hair. Firmly holding my head close to his chest, to his beating heart. Pounding like a drum, louder than thunder.

The rain continued to pour. Intertwining with my tears, forming an acrid march down my face. Echoing the backyard like a Siren's song.

I looked up once more at the gloomy, depressed sky, knocking on the door looking for God, looking for my mommy.

But once again, no one was home.


"All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost..."

J.R.R. Tolkien


Eventually, Jacob and I went to sit under the porch. He didn't say a word, but his silence wrapped around me in a warm, soft blanket to rest my tired soul. I rested my head on his shoulder with my knees tucked tightly in my chest. His long limbs were stretched out and he was twiddling with his fingers like he did last night. I watched his movements, numbly. His right hand rubbing his left hand, subconsciously. I snuggled my head in the crook of his chest and armpit. Letting the essence of Jacob have its way with me. Again, we found ourselves in silence. Jacob watched the rain pit, pit, pat, patter, on the awning.

"Are you scared to die?" As he spoke the words, I felt the rumble of his chest like waves, I leaned more into him; if possible.

"I'm scared to be forgotten," a moment of silence passed between the two of us, "sometimes I lay in my mom and dad's old bed and I think about all the things I missed and continue to miss out on. And then there's a gruesome pang in my stomach, and I don't know if it's loneliness or nostalgia; but it molds together to create me in my most pitiful form," I whispered out placidly.

He sighed deeply and reached to place his hands on his knees. He gripped them tightly. Knuckles turning powder white. Veins protruding. His body started to shake a little and I looked up to see tears swelling in his eyes. His eyebrows narrowed a fraction and he breathed in deeply through his nose.

"I miss you, so fucking much," he exhaled in a breathy moan. Shaking his head slowly side to side. I basked in his confession. Letting his words sink deeper and deeper. I wove my arms around him and held him as he cried. A part of me wonders how much of his confession was for me or for his mother that left him at the tender age four. Regardless, we both sat in a reflective stillness somehow only finding solace in the rain.

"Pretend you can't feel at all. That's how you numb the pain," I told him. I knew how much Billy and Jacob used to crutch on my mom when Sarah died. It was like reliving Sarah's death all over again on instant replay. I wondered how much Jacob was holding inside for the sake of his father.

I leaned off Jacob, letting him cry in peace. I reached in my pants— which I wore yesterday— digging in the pocket for my pack of cigarettes. I eased the Marlboros out of my pocket along with my lighter. I placed the cancer stick in my mouth and lit it up. I took a long drag. I leaned against the brick of the house. I sighed in moderate content. I let the nicotine swim its way in my body, tainting my already blackened lungs.

As I sat there smoking my cigarette, I couldn't help but to think of when times were better. When my dad would come home, my mom cooking in the kitchen, chastising me for picking on Seth; I could remember like it was yesterday; "Leah~" a five year old Seth whined, "just give up, already! I wanna play too! You can't always hog the game!"

"Shut up, Sethy-Baby! I can, too!" I yelled at him just as my father walked into the door. He looked tired and worn out from a hard's day of work. Stress wore his body down. Sleeplessness claimed his face.

"Mommy~! Make Leah share the game!" I rolled my eyes as Seth ran into the back of our mother in the kitchen. It was spaghetti night. My father walked into the living room and pecked me on my forehead and ruffled my hair.

"Hey, Leah-Bee," he smiled down on me. I stopped playing the game for a second and gave my father a kiss on the cheek.

"Daddy! Tell Seth to stop being such a baby and let me play the game!" I knew my daddy would be on my side; after all, I was his little girl. He arched his eyebrow and looked over into the kitchen at my mother who smiled a small smile. He chuckled.

"I don't know, Leah-Bee," he said with mock seriousness, "let me see what mommy says," he looked over at my mother once more. She wiped her hands on her white apron with cherries on it. She dragged a pouty Seth by the hands out the kitchen. I looked over at the cry baby and stuck my tongue out at him. He snuggled up more into our mother's leg and returned the gesture. My mom and dad shared an amused eye.

"Okay, guys. Leah why don't you let your brother play the game with you?" My mother asked in a tone that I knew meant no nonsense. I scowled.

"'Cause! He keeps telling me to give up! But I won't give up! I'm never going to give up on this game; I'm gonna win!" I yelled, stomping my foot down. My dad gave a hearty laugh and held in stomach. With a joyful smile, he ruffled my hair.

"Don't worry, Leah-Bee. Just let your brother play with you just this once. Who knows? It could help you win the game." I grumbled and tossed Seth the other controller, begrudgingly. A gleeful Seth caught the controller and blissfully played the game. My mom came up kissed me on my cheek.

"I know you can do it, baby. I won't give up on you."

The sounds of Jacob getting up on two feet woke me up my reverie. I looked up at him as he dust off his pants and held his hand out for me. I examined his long, slender hand. I traveled my gaze up to his face and felt the familiar tingles roam my body. Butterflies evolving in my stomach; erupting from their cocoons and flying freely. He gave a goofy smile and I watched as his teeth shined and blinded me. I took his hand and reveled in the warmth it radiated. He gripped my hand as soon as it came in contact with his and pulled me up. I wiped my butt off.

"Jacob?" I asked.

"Yeah?"

"Are you scared to die?" He shrugged his shoulders, noncommittally.

"I'll worry about that when I'm dead," and as he spoke those words, I knew that this Jacob isn't the same Jacob I left at First Beach six years ago. He isn't the same Jacob that I used to share a bed with; gave myself to. I'm not quite sure who this Jacob is, but I'm determined to find out. He nodded his head towards the door and I gave a nod of approval.

Impulsively, I turned back and glanced once more at the sky.

The sky cleared up, but somehow I was still here.

And when the sun slowly woke up from its nap, I marveled at its radiance. The way it could shine light on anything, burn away today's miseries. Turning on my heel to go back in to plan the funeral, I spared one last glance at the sun and I realized it was my mother in her most beautiful form. And with a breathtaking smile, she said to me in a beautiful, wistful tone with my father's arm around her shoulder.

"I won't give up on you."


"From the ashes the fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be King."

J.R.R. Tolkien


Author's Note: Wooo! Thank you everyone who reviewed! That really means a lot. I'm so glad that everyone liked it. I hope this met everyone's expectation. Sorry for any mistakes! I currently don't have a Beta Reader and I'm pretty sure I've read this like twenty fucking times and it all looks like chickenscratch.

This one came out faster than I expected. I hope everyone enjoyed the little Jake/Leah moment.

Did any catch my foreshadowing or my symbolism? There was a bunch in here. Anyways, that's it. (: I'm not too sure on if the next chapter will crank out as fast as this one did.

Echoing the backyard like a Siren's song: Reference to The Odyssey. Sirens were beautiful women who sung songs to get sailors to come over to their island and wreck their ship.