Thanks for the reviews and favs everyone :D

Now, to answer some of your questions: yes, Jones came from Indiana Jones, because I'm so (un)creative :') and god, I hope this won't be as long as Bittersweet. So far I'm thinking it will be 15-20 chapters long… but then again, that's what I said about Bittersweet and look what happened to that :P

For All We Know

The colours of her memories could fill a rainbow. There was the red of the sunset at the Summer Festival. Her daddy's favourite fruit oranges (the best source of vitamin C, he'd always say). The different kinds of yellow flowers her mama grew throughout the year – daffodils in the spring, sunflowers in the summer, moondrop flowers in autumn and snowflake flowers in winter. The green of the fresh grass that grew abundant in the Gelato Fields. Blue could be many things, like in the sky or the ocean, but to Rosemary, blue would always be the colour of Heath's eyes.

It was those eyes she was staring into, under a blanket of darkness. They were curled together on Heath's bed with the covers pulled right over their heads. She remembered when they used to have sleepovers every weekend (back before Daddy decided it was 'inappropriate' for a boy to stay in her bedroom, since she was almost thirteen years old now). After Oliver had fallen asleep, Heath used to crawl into her bed and they'd read his adventure books with a flashlight shared between them.

Hiding out here, Rosemary imagined they were on an adventure. They had found an ancient relic, but some bad people were after it too; they had to remain as still and quiet as they possibly could be. Her heart raced when Simon had poked his head in and asked how Heath was. His reply had been shaky, but his grandpa hadn't noticed, nor did he realise there were two lumps under the covers.

They stayed together for hours, for so long that she missed school completely. And it seemed like no one had even noticed.

That is, until the door opened and a familiar voice called her name.

"Rosemary."

Mama. Rosemary pretended not to hear, wrapping her arms tighter around Heath's middle. Oliver must've told. He was always such a goodie-goodie.

"Daddy and I were so worried about you. We didn't know where you'd gone."

Like she could believe that – the only thing Daddy really cared about was his job at the Sundae Inn.

"Heath, buddy, Rosie has to go home."

Uncle Calvin that time. A surge of hatred prickled at Rosemary's skin. This was all his fault. Why did he have to move to somewhere on the other side of the world, just to work? Why did he have to take Heath with him? It wasn't fair!

She heard Mama take a step forward. "Come on, sweetie. Let's go home." Her voice sounded strained, too gentle, like she was trying to keep the sadness from creeping into her words. Rosemary wondered if she felt the same way as her – along with Aunt Maya and Aunt Kathy, Uncle Calvin was one of Mama's best friends.

Rosemary closed her eyes, tried to block out the voices. Maybe if she wished hard enough, they'd all go away and leave them alone. Just her and Heath; the only person she'd ever need.

Mama sighed. "Rosemary, we're leaving," She repeated. Her tone was stronger, sterner, but Rosemary knew she wasn't angry. Mama never got angry, really.

The covers disappeared from over her head. Rosemary met her mother's gaze; as much as it annoyed her when everyone treated her like a baby, she wanted Mama to hug her and tell her everything would be all right. She sat up and Mama reached out to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

"Don't go," Heath whispered. His trembling fingers tightened around hers.

Rosemary's first memories were of those blue eyes, peering up at her with curiosity. An innocent hand had extended towards her. Their hands had met, and now, eleven years later, they were still holding on.

And then fate decided it was time to tear them apart.

Chase stood frozen in the doorway, helpless, as he listened to Rosemary weeping into her pillow. Holly had been by her side for hours, gently rubbing her back and whispering soothing words, but her efforts were in vain. At this rate, Rosemary would make herself sick.

Part of him wished he'd stayed at the Sundae Inn, safe in the refuge of his kitchen – it had been Maya who forced him out; he knew better than to challenge the patience of a woman who was six months pregnant with her third child.

There was nothing worse in the world than having to watch your little girl cry. Being unable to console her, being unable to take away her pain, the only thing he could do was to silently suffer with her. Each sob shot though his heart like a bullet and ricocheted through his entire body, until it left him numb with anger and despair.

Years ago he'd witnessed Holly cry over that bastard Calvin, now his son had done the same to his daughter. Broken her heart. Those damn Joneses were the bane of his existence.

If Chase could somehow go back in time, he'd pinpoint the exact moment Rosemary and Heath became best friends and stop this all from happening. When she had been younger, he'd hoped for her to make some nice, easy-going, non-troublemaking friends, like Candace and Julius' daughter Angie or Toby and Renee's son Matt. Instead, she'd gravitated towards the son of an archaeologist. The archaeologist his wife had once dated – not that he was in any way still bitter about that; almost fifteen years had passed since then.

But his daughter was impressionable. When Chase had wanted her to stand by his side in the kitchen, Rosemary had other ideas. Her head had become filled with extravagant dreams, all thanks to that Heath kid. Going on adventures, finding hidden treasures, seeing the world. She wasn't even a teenager yet and she already itched to abandon her family.

It used to be so easy. A hug, a kiss, a colourful bandaid and a slice of her favourite strawberry shortcake; that was all it took to dry her tears. Now Rosemary wanted explanations, answers he couldn't give – why do bad things happen, Daddy? When it came to the cold, honest truth, bad things happened because life was unfair. He had learnt that at too young an age. He wished his children would never have to know that ugly truth, but how could he possibly shield them forever?

"Daddy, is Rosie going to be okay?"

The small voice brought him back to the present and Chase glanced down. Oliver peered around the corner, his large violet eyes brimming with worry.

Chase suppressed his pain, pushed it from his mind. He was their father; he had to be strong for his children.

His mouth lifted into a gentle smile and he ruffled his son's hair, "Of course she is."

That much he truly believed. Rosemary, though she'd vehemently deny it, resembled her mother in more than just appearance – she was stronger than she looked, stronger than she herself believed.

It wasn't enough for him to stand on the sidelines, relying on his wife to make everything right again. Rosemary needed to know that, no matter what, she had both her parents to turn to.

With this in mind, Chase treaded quietly across the room. He reached his daughter's bedside in a matter of strides and touched his wife's shoulder. The look of surprise on Holly's face sent a painful twinge through his heart, but it eased when she gave him an appreciative smile.

Holly stood up and Chase took her place, seated near the head of the bed. Whimpering, Rosemary curled away from him, and again, pain panged through his heart. He gently stroked his daughter's long hair; it was amazing to think that once she used to fit snugly into the crook of his arm, so small and vulnerable. A baby girl who needed her daddy to protect her.

"Rosie… I know, it feels like the end of the world now," Chase murmured softly. Rosemary's sobs quietened a little and her head lifted. Hope shined in her eyes. "But you'll make other friends."

A second too late, he realised it was the wrong thing to say.

Holly's look of approval turned sour.

Rosemary wailed, "I-I don't want other friends!"

Just like that, Chase became the stranger. His wife all but shoved him aside and he was left to watch from the sidelines again.

"Shh, Rosie… what Daddy meant to say is you'll make new friends but that doesn't mean you have to forget about Heath," Holly reassured their daughter – she was always so good at that, "You can still write to each other and talk over the phone…"

"I-It's… it's not the same."

"And you've got a month left to spend time together."

"A month isn't that long," Rosemary mumbled.

Holly began to rub her back, "You know, we could throw a big going away party for Heath and his family–"

"N-No!" Rosemary suddenly sat up, knocking Holly's hand away, "This is all Uncle Calvin's fault!" A fresh wave of tears choked her words and she fell forward into her mother's arms. "I-I hate Uncle Calvin!"

Involuntarily, Chase clenched his hand into a fist. So do I.

"Why can't Heath stay here on Waffle Island? He could live here with us!"

"Like hell–"

Holly shot him a glare and the rest of Chase's words died on his lips.

Holly sighed, gently rocking their daughter from side to side. "Don't you think Uncle Calvin and Aunt Phoebe will be sad if Heath stays behind?" She said. Rosemary's sobs began to quieten as she took in the words. "And Heath would be sad too, wouldn't he? Not being with his parents."

Rosemary lifted her head. She stared at her mother; her purple eyes were reddened around the edges, but shone with intensity and innocence.

"But he'd have me."

Holly emerged from their children's bedroom, looking worn out and defeated. "They're both asleep, finally," She announced.

Chase exhaled in relief. Rosemary would be free from her anguish in her dreams. At least, until morning arrived.

Escaping to his dreams sounded like a good idea. After everything that happened in the afternoon, he just wanted to crawl into bed next to his wife and pretend this never happened. But he could see the worry still in Holly's eyes – she wouldn't be able to sleep tonight, too anxious over what tomorrow would bring.

"Tea?"

Holly jolted to attention, "Huh?"

Chase stepped forward and he pulled her towards him. They stood together for a moment, his lips pressed to the crown of her head and her face buried in his shirt. "Come on, I'll make you some tea," He murmured.

They headed to the kitchen. Chase went about making the tea, setting out two cups while he waited for the water to boil. It was earlier than he thought – nine o'clock; at this hour, his own house felt like a mystery. Normally, when he'd come home from work at midnight or later, a veil of complete silence muffled the rooms. Every movement he'd make sounded painfully amplified, as if he were the only man left in the world.

When Holly spoke up, it took him by surprise.

"Thank you for leaving work early," She was saying, "I know it must've been busy."

He shrugged a shoulder, "Maya insisted that Kevin could handle it."

There must've been a sceptical note to his words. Holly chuckled softly, "Don't worry, he knows his way around the kitchen. Angela would've starved in college if it hadn't been for his cooking."

"He'd better not put me out of the job."

She giggled again. Chase poured a share of the water into a teapot, added the dried leaves and waited another moment for it to steep. He then retrieved the honey.

"It really meant a lot to Rosie that you were here," Holly said.

Even though I practically told her to forget about her best friend? His fingers clenched around the spoon, as he violently dolloped a teaspoon of honey into the bottom of each cup.

Holly missed his self-directed irritation. She hummed in thought. "Calvin never mentioned anything about going back to work overseas. Did he say something to you?"

"Nothing I can think of," He murmured. While his jealousy had long evaporated, Chase liked to keep his interactions with Calvin Jones to a minimum, tolerating him at best.

"I wish he'd given us some warning at least."

Chase poured the tea and finished it all off with a squirt of lemon juice. He handed a cup to Holly and she followed him out into the living room. They sunk down onto the sofa with a near simultaneous sigh. For a moment, the silence was allowed to reign.

His wife stared into her tea, "This situation just breaks my heart. Can you believe those two have been best friends for almost their entire lives?"

"I still have trouble believing Rosie is going to be a teenager in a few months."

"Don't remind me," Holly groaned, "Why do they have to grow up so fast?"

"Maybe we're just getting old." Chase laughed when he received a playful slap on the arm.

It was true though. Twelve years seemed to pass by in a flash; soon enough, Rosemary would be eighteen, an adult, and then what? She'd leave the island, fall in love, have children of her own – his little girl no longer. Chase cupped his hand tighter around his mug.

"Do you remember when they got into a fight with some boys from the mainland?" Holly suddenly said, "They were teasing Rosie and Heath jumped to defend her. He ended up with a black-eye and Rosie punched one of the boys in the nose…"

The memory brought a smile to his wife's face, but Chase couldn't place it. That happened too often nowadays. His memories of his family were quickly being replaced by long nights spent in the Sundae Inn's kitchen. The children he now knew were strangers. And he barely remembered how to talk to Holly.

Conversation came to a standstill as they focused on sipping their tea.

To think, a few years ago, Chase would've given everything he possessed just for a moment like this, with no screaming baby, no mischievous toddlers bouncing off the walls and pulling pots and pans from the cupboards, no siblings squabbling over who looked at whom the wrong way; just he and his wife enjoying some quiet time alone.

He wished the house would breathe again.

Clutching his blanket to his chin, Oliver's heart pounded in his ears. Something was in the room with him. Definitely not Rosemary and not Finn either.

He could hear it scratching around on the floor and the walls, bumping into the window. Lights danced across the ceiling. His first thought was: bogeyman. Maybe ghosts. Lucy said the church graveyard was haunted – she'd seen it herself, at the New Years Eve festival; a ghost had waved at her from the church bell tower.

The noises were getting louder, closer. What should he do? Cry. Scream. Or be brave. He was almost ten years old now – it was time to be brave.

Oliver took a deep breath. The creature was right below his bed, mumbling and grumbling, looking for who knows what. He quietly sat up, making sure not to rustle the covers, and peered over the edge of the mattress. Through the darkness, he could see a blob poking out from under his bed. This was his chance.

Oliver leapt out of bed – well, it was more of a roll because his foot got caught on his blanket. Still, he fell on top of the monster and trapped it in place.

"Gotcha!" Oliver declared triumphantly. He couldn't wait to tell Lucy he caught the bogeyman.

"Get off me!" It cried, struggling under his weight.

Not the voice of a monster, but: "R... Rosie?"

They were stuck for a little while – it was too dark to see which limb had landed where – but eventually Rosemary shoved him off. Oliver winced when she shined a flashlight right into his eyes.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" She demanded.

"I thought you were the bogeyman!" He exclaimed, "And you said the 'h' word."

"So what? I've heard Daddy say way worse words when he thinks we're not listening."

Oliver got to his knees; it was still too dark to really see anything, but with the glow of the flashlight and his eyes slowly adjusting to the difference in light, he could make out the shapes of Rosemary, her school backpack and the stuff she'd thrown about on the floor.

"Wha–" The rest of Oliver's sentence was swallowed by a yawn, "Are ya doing?"

"Nothing," His sister replied at once.

"Doesn't look like nothing."

"Just go back to bed."

"I'll tell Mama."

That worked. Rosemary seemed torn between punching him to death and ripping his head off. When she moved, Oliver cowered away and braced himself for the pain. Instead, she just reached over to grab her backpack. "I'm going to run away with Heath," She muttered.

"No!"

"Shut up!" Aiming to close his mouth, Rosemary accidentally smacked him in the face and he yelped even louder. They froze, waiting to see if Mama and Daddy would burst through the door – the only sound they heard was Finn's loud snoring.

Rosemary sighed, "I have to. It's the only way we'll get to stay together."

Oliver's stomach twisted and turned, like it was filled with butterflies. "You can't run away. We're on an island!"

"I know that, I'm not dumb," His sister said, "But once a week, Captain Pascal takes his boat to the mainland to make deliveries and stuff. We'll stowaway and go live in the city, or maybe even Harmonica Town…"

"I want to come with."

"You can't."

"Why not? I'm Heath's friend too."

"Yeah, but I'm his best friend."

Oliver pouted. It was so unfair that she hogged Heath all to herself. (Angie said Rosemary did that because she had a crush on him, but that was really gross because Heath was like their brother.)

"Anyway, one of us has to stay behind, so Mama and Daddy... so they won't be, y'know..." Rosie trailed off. She whispered the last word, "lonely."

He couldn't help it; tears started to prickle at his eyes, "What about me? I'll be all alone if you go!"

"No, you won't. You have Mama and Daddy, and Finn, and everyone at school..."

"Won't you be lonely then?" Oliver cut in.

His big sister went quiet for a minute. "No way," She scoffed, "I'll have Heath." She took her flashlight and backpack, crawling to the other side of the room in search of something else she needed for her journey.

"…I'll miss you."

Rosemary stopped packing. Even in the darkness, he knew there was sadness in her eyes.

"I'll miss you too, Ollie."