AN: Hello everyone! Hope you're all doing fine! I am, only a bit stressed for my exams next week. Anyways, big thank you to decadenceofmysoul, Emmettluver2010 and bethie86 for their reviews. Now, about this chapter, I am afraid it might be a bit of a filler. A lot is happening, although it might not be the action that you're hoping for (pun intended). Know we're moving towards the real action though (not only pun intended (; ). A short reminder of how much I love reviews and now; enjoy reading!


Chapter 8.

When we arrived at the bus station, it was deserted and empty, the flickering electronic signs indicating that the next bus would not leave before tomorrow morning. Penny said nothing and backed the car out of the parking lot, driving me to the train station in the neighboring town without a complaint. With the last train in the direction of Oakland leaving in five minutes, we did not have time for heartfelt goodbyes even if we'd wanted to. Instead of any deep confessions or last words, I looked at the pregnant woman sitting next to me one last time 'Thank you.'

Penny merely nodded, but I knew she understood that I did not just thank her for the ride. And as I walked away, my suitcase in hand, I realized that there had been an understanding in her eyes that went further than sympathy: it was recognition.

Once I sat down in the train that would take me back to campus, I let myself relax for the first time in what felt like an eternity and found that my shoulders were stiff with tension. I kicked of the sensible heels I had been wearing for the past few days – and for much longer, if I was completely honest with myself – and slumped down into my seat. The air in the train was cold, though, and soon I found myself digging through my suitcase in the hopes of finding anything that I could cover the red dress with. I tried not to think about how it had been Charlie's favorite, how it had been in fact him who had prompted me to buy it in the first place, as I pulled a knit green holidays sweater from the bottom of my suitcase.

I inspected with a detached sort of fascination the purple, finger-shaped bruises that were forming around my left wrist, then shrug it off as I pulled the sweater over my head. With the numbness still governing my thoughts, I allowed myself to succumb to the exhaustion that the evening's events had brought on, and soon I was fast asleep.


I woke up sometime later to a stiff neck, cramped shoulders – and a voice announcing Sacramento as the next station. 'Fuck,' I swore under my breath, then got ready to apologize, then realized I didn't have to. I rubbed my forehead, the sensitive area on my forehead stinging when my fingers grazed it, and I thought about what to do next. I would have to get off in Sacramento and wait for the next train back to Oakland, which would probably not leave before the morning. If the time displayed on a screen on the compartment wall was any indication, that would not be for four hours at least. As it was however, I did not have much choice, and so I quickly strapped my sensible heels back on.

When we arrived at Sacramento, I followed the few other travelers out of the empty train station and into the deserted streets of the sleeping city. By now, it was two o'clock in the morning and even the young partygoers were slowly finding their way back to their beds (or somebody else's). I was watching a particularly drunken girl stumble her way across the sidewalk when I spotted a 24-hour diner just across the street from me. Figuring it was my best option at the moment, I slowly made my way over.

The diner was mostly deserted, save for some rowdy youngsters that sat at one of the booths in the corner. I ignored their howling at my entrance and instead sat myself as far away from them as was possible. When the waitress came over, I ordered a coffee and it was not long before I was absent-mindedly stirring two spoons of sugar into it. I tried very hard to ignore the loud youth, to block out their boisterous talk, but found myself listening in, nonetheless.

By the sounds of it, they had just come back from clubbing and the majority of them was smashed. From what I gathered, the boys were old friends – with frequent references towards some "Miss Fallon" from primary school that apparently all the boys had fancied – and they had come together for a sort of friends reunion. Already they were planning on meeting more often and I concluded that (whether due to the alcohol or genuine pleasure they gained from each other's company) it must have been a successful night.

The scene made me think of my own primary school friends and even those I'd made in my first years at high school in Lodi. I had not seen or spoken to any of them in years and I realized that over time – despite our insurances that nothing would change – we must have simply grown apart, as it so often happens with childhood friends. I wondered what had become of them. Had they all grown up to become successful adults? Lawyers, accountants, parents even? Or did they also feel alone sometimes, as if they were simply not made to fit into the world? Did they too sometimes feel like maybe, somewhere along the road, they'd made a horrible mistake?

I wondered what would have happened if I'd tried harder to fit in at high school. If I'd let Nate fuck me, if he might have taken me as a girlfriend, would everything be different? Maybe then it would have been me who was sitting with a group of friends at some booth in a 24-hour diner, laughing and joking without a care of the world. And although it might have not made me happy I wondered whether it would be preferable to where I was at now. Alone, unhappy, just out of a relationship with a guy that had taken everything from me (not just my innocence, like Nate had, but my entire identity). And for a moment I thought it was.

But then I thought of Donna, of my uncle Piney, of all the guys at the motor club, and I realized that I would have never known them the way I did now if my life had taken a different path. And then I thought of Jax, of our talks and our laughs and all the small little things that had made him so special to me, and I realized that if I'd never called him that night, if I'd never let him in, we wouldn't have shared what we had. It was a bittersweet thought, but I found that despite the heartache, I would not have wanted it any other way. Despite the heartache, I had known love, both given and received and even though it might not have been exactly how I'd wanted it, I would not have traded it for anything.

When I looked at the group of youngsters again, I did not feel the sting of regret anymore and I found that, despite the pain and the heartache and all the mistakes that I'd made, I would not have wanted to be anywhere else than where I was at that particular moment.


When half past four had come and gone at last, I paid for my coffee, thanked the waitress and spared the empty booth that the group of boys had vacated some time ago a last glance before I stepped outside.

As I walked towards the train station, I found that the air felt less chill to my face and I wondered whether that was because of the slowly dawning morning or the fact that I'd finally found some semblance of peace with my existence. The wounds were still there, but for the first in a very long time I felt comfortable with all the mistakes that I'd made in my life. And when I walked past the bus station and noticed the first bus to Charming was almost departing, I decided that maybe this was a sign of Fate that it was time to make some of those mistakes right again.

Before I had a chance to get back on my decision, I purchased a ticket and sat myself and my suitcase down on one of the many empty seats. It was early morning – and early morning after Christmas, I just realized – and no one was in that much of a hurry to go to Charming at any time of the day, anyway. I sighed, thinking how it was strange that I'd had sat at the Hall's dinner table only mere hours ago, yet it seemed like a lifetime had passed.

The ride to Charming was short and uneventful, yet somehow as we neared the town, I wished that it had taken longer. As much as I knew that I needed to do this, I was also very reluctant to face many of the things that I'd left behind when I went away for college. One of the biggest things – and probably the reason why I was so tensed for all the rest as well – being my former best friend.

I did not know what to expect at this point. With the way I had left so suddenly and had never once contacted him, I could understand if he was angry with me. Then again, I could handle his anger as long as that meant that he still cared somehow. In all honesty, it was the not knowing that scared me beyond anything.

As I stepped out of the bus and onto the platform, I was reminded of a night much like this one many years ago. I had been but a young girl, sad, but above all so very, very lonely. Comparing it to the present, I found that little had changed since that night. I'd found friends and had become estranged from them again. I'd found love and lost it. And I'd cared about someone who had not cared so much about me. I was still sad and lonely, but maybe I was a little less young and a little less naïve.

And so when I took in my familiar surroundings, I did not think of how that first night Piney had come to pick me up or about how I'd sat on a motorcycle for the first time in my life that same night, but instead allowed myself the bittersweet feeling of being home again. A place where I'd made both good and bad memories, but a home it had become to me nevertheless.

With a sigh too heavy for the morning after Christmas, I took my suitcase and started walking. Piney's home and the clubhouse where the closest at this point, but I found that I was not quite ready to face either of those places – or rather; the people in them. And so my feet soon found their way to the one other place that I'd felt loved and as I crossed the distance to Opie and Donna's house, I silently thanked the ugly, but oh so sensible heels on my feet.


I'd stood in front of the white painted door for what must have been minutes before I finally mustered up the courage to ring the bell.

It was still early – far too early to come visiting unannounced – and I realized I'd never gotten around to tell Opie my definitive answer for New Year's Eve. Either way, I knew they were not expecting me and the coward part of me was hoping that they would not be at home.

I saw a light flick on behind one of the windows and soon I heard the click of the door being unlocked and suddenly I found myself face to face with Donna Winston. And I did not know what to say.

For a moment, we just stared at each other, she in surprise and I with the sudden realization just how much I'd missed her. Her eyes swept briefly over my attire and took in the ruined black shoes, the green Christmas sweater and the skirt of my red dress and I understood what I must have looked like: a mess. She did not say it however and for that, I was grateful. Instead, she pulled me firmly into a bone-crushing hug like only a mother figure can and all else was forgotten.

'I missed you so much, Donna,' I said, tears already welling up in my eyes as I held on to her tightly.

'I missed you too, Ellie.'

When she finally let go, I noticed she had tears in her eyes too and in that moment I realized that maybe I wasn't as alone as I thought. 'Come inside, dear.' And she took my suitcase from my hands and guided me towards the sofa.

Soon, I had a steaming mug of tea in my hands and I found myself spilling all the last months' regrets to her. And Donna, like only Donna knows how, only listened and I knew I would never have to feel alone again.

Whatever happened, I would always have Donna.