"Remember this place?"

Bree wasn't sure if her mother was serious but she felt hurt nevertheless. "Did you think I forgot?"

"What I mean is, do you remember this place before the accident? The happy times, the neighbors, the peacefulness?" Mary looked blissfully over the street at the beautiful suburban scenery in Rhode Island.

"Yes, it's exactly like Wisteria Lane." Bree shivered as she recalled the various reasons for the unfortunate resemblance. There were Christmas decorations in every home, some were modest, some more extravagant. She wondered if the same personalities existed there too, if every house was a home to some broken soul striving to get by in spite of their husbands leaving or their mental state collapsing. She was suddenly frightened.

"I won't have to hear it again, will I?"

"You will. It's the only way it will work."

"I'm already getting tired of that phrase." Bree had a vacant look on her face as she wondered again if it would all be worth it. She could feel her stomach turn as a reminder of how serious her sins had been and in a way it comforted her. She must be on the right road then. If there ever was an evening she wanted to re-live this one would have been her last choice. It was Christmas Eve and their house had been filled with relatives. Her mother had made a wonderful dinner and the tree had been decorated. Everyone had been happy up until that evening and even after the tragedy Bree still refused to see the sad side to the holiday season. She had decided she would never let anyone ruin Christmas for her and it had taken a lot of effort but in the end she succeeded. She rarely associated the time of the year with her mother's death anymore. To have those memories flooding back so unexpectedly made her question if she had ever really got over the unfairness of it all.

Bree shook her head. "I really don't see what this has got to do with Rex."

Mary gave her a look that was a mixture understanding and something else Bree couldn't quite catch. Pity, perhaps?

"You were such a good child, Bree. Maybe even too well-behaved for your own good, I guess. Always taking care of everything, yet it never reached that obsessive level until you married Rex. From then on you were constantly striving for greatness even when you already had it all laid out before your eyes. I never really knew what it was that you were looking for and seeing you now I can tell you still haven't found it. What are you trying to achieve by all your hard efforts?"

"Hard?" Bree felt frustrated and chose to let it show since no alive person would be there to hear her inner thoughts.

"It's not hard! People don't understand how little effort it actually takes to keep a home beautiful. All you have to do is set a goal for each day and work for it. But they get so distracted and restless by everything that happens around them, no wonder they, and you, may I mention, find I go overboard. I wish they could see how simple life is, and even if they can't then at least respect me for what I do for them. That's all I ask, nothing more."

Mary nodded knowingly at her. "Well then, you should get ready to appear at our old house as aunt Gale. You'll have more time for this task. And remember, try to act the way an aunt would. And don't you dare try to save me."

"But how much time…?"

And so Bree found herself surrounded by her relatives enjoying their Christmas Eve. Everyone had just eaten and they had gathered around the house into small groups chatting about work and their neighbors.

"Not much has changed." Bree thought to herself. Then she looked in the mirror but did not recognize the aunt Gale she was supposed to be. Maybe she didn't know her very well. The woman had dressed very casually. Her messy hair and loose flower power shirt reminded Bree of Danielle a bit. She decided to avoid mirrors as much as she could while she was in the house. And then she saw herself. The Child Bree had red hair and fair skin, much lighter than Bree remembered. She walked around the house in her neatly flowing velvet green dress not really talking to anyone but very observant, her eyes focused on everything she passed. It was as if she was trying to find something to fix or someone to serve. With no other children being present at their home it was clear she was trying hard to entertain herself.

Try as she might Bree could not remember anything about the moments prior to the accident. It was as if this whole different world, a life she couldn't quite grasp anymore, was a scene in a movie right before something life-altering happens. What would her life be like now had this night never happened? There were so many lessons her mother had yet to teach her. Sometimes in her darker days she would stay up as late as her friend Jasper & Tate allowed and wonder if some of her struggles could have been avoided had she been given more guidance, though the wine would soon cloud her thoughts and she would slip into that peaceful state of mind before the answers could ever come to her.

They wouldn't come to her now either. She saw her mother leave the house with the neighbors' presents while no one was looking. She had that talent of completing hundreds of tasks in what only seemed like seconds to everyone else. No one ever paid much attention to it for that was how they had grown to know her. Even Bree had barely noticed her herself.

It would happen soon and all she wanted to do was hide somewhere, a peaceful place where she could possibly fold laundry and sip wine for all eternity. The thought relaxed her a bit until the screeching sound outside shot her back to reality.

People started rushing out, some grapping their coats on the way. Bree heard her father call out his wife's name and a friend of his stormed back in to call an ambulance. Everything was starting to come back to her, yet nothing felt as scary as back then. In fact she was surprised by how little it all affected her now. Maybe reality is never as frightening as the expectations make it out to be.

Her younger self had already heard what happened and with no shoes nor a coat on she glided through the open doorway, almost like a ghost. What would happen next? For a moment she had forgotten all about her task and in the back of her mind she wondered if changing the past would do any good in the end. These things just happen, don't they? And people live on, except Orson might not. The thought of him lying in a hospital as a result of her selfish actions was enough to put her mind back on the task. What could it be? Bree pondered on this but her memories were vague and distorted due to decades of intense suppression. While her mind was racing she had followed the child Bree outside keeping enough distance between them to avoid participating in anything for fear she might reveal too much. Her mother's body must have been lying near the pavement but Bree couldn't see anything but the wall of people and for that she was thankful. A tall blond woman dressed in a rose colored tweed jacket and skirt turned around shaking uncontrollably and immediately went off at the child still moving closer.

"What are you doing? Do you want to watch Mary die, do you? Get back in and stay there!"

It took all her willpower not to step in and slap some sense into the hysterical woman. In fact Bree would have liked nothing more than to get rid of every unnecessary spectator and lay her mother in some dignified position before the ambulance got there. For she was going to die anyway and she could not be very comfortable being slammed to the street with the speed the car had hit her with. But Bree would stay in character, nothing was more important. After all she definitely didn't want to make the future worse.

The child slowly retreated back into the house and the ambulance arrived shortly after. Bree had never seen things from this side before and figuring it was for the best she decided to go back in herself too.

What she had always remembered most clearly about this night was when everyone had left for the hospital and all she could do was stare at the street outside feeling more powerless than she ever had before. No one had told her anything and though the world seemed unchanged to the eye, nothing was quite the same. She needed to do something, to feel she had a purpose in all this. And that was when she had gone outside, grabbed the hose and cleaned up all the blood from the street. It had been so dark outside and she could barely see the mess but to Bree it represented everything that was wrong in the world at that moment and she would have no peace until the street was clean again.

However, as the memories came back to her, she could not remember anyone else being in the house with her before she went outside to complete her final task for her mother. Maybe this was it? She had to stop the child.

"Bree?"It felt strange to call out her own name and to know that she was actually talking to herself in a clear state of mind. The words echoed as if she was in a haunted house and in a way she was.

The child who had been staring out of the window in silence turned around, not really looking at Bree. Her expression was hallow and in a way it reminded Bree of death and the tranquility that always surrounded the body of whoever had left her behind. To her there was eerie beauty in that moment when one's life had run its full course and when all the necessary errands had been run. It always gave her such relief to place a beautiful flower arrangement on the grave in the midst of all the sorrow.

She sat down, crossed her hands at her lap and gave the child her most compassionate look that was born, mostly out of years of rehearsing but also the sadness that never quite seemed to let her go.

"I am so terribly sorry this is happening to you, I really am. I…" Bree looked down her mind frantically trying to come up with the next line but the words would not come out. She wanted to tell her younger self how things got better for her, and they did, until they got a whole lot worse. Suddenly she saw no purpose in taking the conversation further. The child however did.

"She died?"

"I'm pretty sure she did."

"But she was just here."

"I know."

Bree studied the child's face and found herself once again powerless when she saw terror flash in her eyes. She followed the child's gaze and they both found themselves staring out of the window in silence. Suddenly Bree had an idea.

"Someone should clean up that mess. Will you help me?"

Bree saw the child's eyes light up a bit.

"Yes…" The anticipation grew in her voice. "Yes, we should do it."

Bree smiled satisfied and gently took the child's hand as she led her outside. It seemed the air had got colder in that short amount of time and everything looked darker. Bree fought the urge to do everything by herself.

"Can you get me the hose, please?"

The child rushed to the equipment as if her life depended on it and once she had handed it over to Bree they turned on the water together. It was the first time Bree had felt at ease on the street that day. With rapid, yet smooth movements she quickly flushed away all the blood while the child looked up at her in curious admiration. Once she was done she already knew how the story would play out.

"Now", she started as she rolled up the hose in the same manner she did whenever she had just finished watering the flowers in her yard." I know this is hard for you but I need you to promise me something."

The child looked surprised as she took the rolled up hose from her.

"What is it?"

Bree wanted to kneel down to meet the girl at eye level. There was however no spot that could leave her borrowed outfit unstained and so she brushed imaginative dirt off her loose skirt and settled for an awkward half-crouch.

"When the time comes you will want to talk about what happened tonight. It may seem hard at first, to find the right words and it may even take more strength to say them out loud. But you will need to do that. It's the only way you can learn to live, to survive this. So please, promise me you'll try."

The child didn't look any less confused but nodded after some hesitation. Bree figured she might need more reassurance.

"It takes a great deal of strength to live through something like this." Bree realized she was already finding it hard to practice what she preached as she danced around the subject referring to her mother's death as "something" but she continued nevertheless.

"I know you have it in you, and God does too. Because you were born strong and you will remain so no matter what happens."

Her finely outlined speech was beginning to suffer from the cracks in her voice and so she stood up. At that moment everything went black again and the last thing she saw was the small hint of realization in the little girl's gaze.