A/N: Hey - thank you to all of you who reviewed, and thanks to everyone who is reading. I'm really sorry for the delay in chapters - long ago were the days of sitting around the house watching t.v. and writing fanfic - word of warning - the real world is NOT what many pesky adults crack it up to be.

Anyways, I hope now to be able to write more.

Please please, PLEASE! review, it is so important to me to know what you think about these chapters - your input steers the story and I want to give you what you want to read!

Thanks again :) - hope you enjoy.


Chapter 4:

The ground beneath her was wet, Whitney lay still frozen atop the grass. Clay was gone he had left her just as he once did. It was just her now, and someone else. Droplets of water fell to her face from an unknown source above, a sensation she never thought she'd experience again. He who stood above her was soaked. She thought for sure she was truly dying now. If she had been in a limbo of sorts on that bed in the house, now it was truly her time to die. The pain, the electric shocks moving through her from head to toe, was surely a punishment for her actions all those years ago.

Whitney lunged forward on the ground, and all she could do was scream. Suddenly and somehow she could feel, and she had forgotten what it was like to feel. The sadnesses and sorrows of her time in paralysis was feeling enough, but it nothing compared to the sensation of her bare palms and knees against the cold wet grass.

The shocks quickly gave way to stillness. Whitney could not understand how this was possible, how she had regained control over her body so suddenly, as though cured. What had been the antidote? On her hands and knees, she turned her head to look over her left shoulder. It was Jason after all, standing still as ever, silent and observant. His machete formed a perfect bridge between both hands, his mask as frightening as ever it had been, that mask she had once torn from his flesh in utter passion.

"Jason." Whitney coughed, she still had not quite regained proper speech. She felt as though her throat had closed and perhaps it had not yet recovered. There was obviously no need for breath but it seemed her voice projection worked in much the same way it had while she was living.

"Jason?" She watched him, watched the water dripping from his arms, from his mask, the same water which had fallen to her face. It was the lake, she then realized, it was Crystal lake which had cured her.

Cold metal rushed toward her, Jason lifted his machete and swiftly attempted to run his blade through her skin. She quickly dodged, and stood. "Jason! No! Its me, Whitney! Can you not remember?" She continued in her struggle to speak. Slowly but surely the words emerged. He tried again, and she fell to her back, he stood tall and powerful above her. "Oh God Jason!"

Whitney wasn't sure what was going to happen. She was already dead, right? He couldn't kill her, could he? If Jason killed her would it be different? She got up and missed one final slice, she ran to the house as fast as she could and upon reaching the door she looked over her shoulder. He quickly followed.

Whitney rushed inside. How had she controlled him before? She quickly scanned the house. She remembered the locket, though where had she placed it? She threw open the floor hatch and carelessly lowered herself into the mine shaft badly scraping her right thigh along the way. In three moments time spent pondering in the heat of fear and hurry, the most disturbing part about this, to Whitney, was that her skin had been scraped but it did not bleed, it were as though she had grated a piece of well cooked meat from her leg. It landed lifelessly upon the dirt of the mine floor.

Whitney shrieked as she heard Jason fall through into the shaft. She was instantly brought back to her first days within the tunnels, how frightened she had been, and how long it had taken her to finally reach out to him. But Whitney knew if he could only see that locket, he would remember her. She didn't understand Jason at all, how he worked, what he was even made of. He wasn't human, of course, if he had ever been human none of what he once was existed now. Was it possible he would never remember her?

She hurried to the corner of her old room, her first room. Her mattress was gone. Material and fabric scraps lay strewn throughout the area, as though animals had come through and shredded everything as they do. But a brown bag lay flat upon the ground in the dirt, and perhaps in there she would find what she was looking for.

She gasped. Two powerful hands thumped down forcefully upon her shoulders, and she nearly collapsed to her knees, but an inner strength from an uncertain source managed to keep her standing. She turned around, and looked up into Jason's eyes, into the eyes behind the mask, and saw his same cold eyes looking down into hers. She had once so passionately held that glance.

"Jason." She whispered. He would either remember her, or kill her. To her utter confusion, he did neither. Jason stood there, his hands a burdening weight upon her frame. Eventually he let go, and reached for his machete.

She grabbed the bag from the dirt and emptied its contents onto the ground. The locket tumbled out and lay open between them on the floor. Jason looked down, as did Whitney. They both saw the likeness of his mother, age had worn the image considerably since the last time Whitney laid eyes upon it, but it was still the same picture, Jason's mother.

With one hand wielding his machete Jason reached for the locket with the other. Whitney took one step back and watched. His eyes were as dark and evil as ever they had been, but if evil could love this was certainly a prime example. Whitney held out her hand to him, but he was unmoving in his glance upon the image of his mother. She retook a slow and careful step forward, her hand held outward still, he was unmoving.

"Jason." Whitney quietly beckoned. Jason seemed not to hear her, or to even notice. Upon her first words to him in what seemed like hours, he turned his back to her, and swiftly moved away.

Unexpectedly, with the anguish this sudden neglect put into her heart, her arms and chest began to pain, as though her emotions had circuited themselves into her entire body. The lake perhaps would cure this as well. She could only hope. Tears made their way from her dead eyes to her dead cheeks. Jason didn't love her.