Hey, guys. I know. It's been forever. That's why in honor of Thanksgiving I decided to update. I'm thankful for writing and all you guys who have supported me and my lovely Lauren, who I totally forgot to wish a happy Thanksgiving to. And my friends and family who actually treated(and continue to treat) me like a human being. I hope everyone's having a blessed day.

To Kaya and Melanie: Thank you. I appreciate you.

Disclaimer: I do not own this world but in some ways I am glad for that. I like coming up with my own. ;)

Sydney's Turn

1 Month later.

"Hey."

Eddie's voice makes me jump. I swear the kid's become some kind of ninja lately. My fingers run down my dress to probe my scar. It's become a nervous habit. I don't even know why I'm nervous.

"Why aren't you in there?"

He sighs. That in itself is an answer. I can hear the whispers of conversation inside. Lea, Keith and Jill are speculating about the murders involving three girls who had been being raped nearby. Something fills me and a thought fleets through my mind and sticks there. I press so hard on my stomach it stings. Eddie pretends not to notice my wince. I pretend not to notice him pretending not to notice.

Yeah. I know.

"Do you think he's okay?" His question echoes in the night air. I don't want to think about Adrian or what happened. I want to be somewhere else, preferably with a plastic bag over my head.

"I think he's dead."

"Jesus, Sydney. That was blunt."

"Oh, well, sorry for being honest. I won't do it again."

We're silent and I know- I can just feel a lecture coming on. There are days when I feel like Eddie's trying to be some kind of twisted version of my father. It makes me sick. But how do you tell someone who cares about you more- oops. Let me rephrase that. How do you tell the only one who cares about you, that you want them to care about you less? Kicking puppies has never been my favorite thing.

A rustling sound to my right breaks the quiet. I squint out into the distance but there's nothing but Clarence's tacky flowers. I must be hearing things. Eddie clears his throat and I look over at him. "What?"

"Sydney, you know I, uh, love you, right?"

We are so not having this conversation.

"Eddie-"

"No. Let me finish before you make some smartass comment and try to forget I ever said this," He states, hazel eyes shining in the moonlight.

"We got stuck together. I knew you before the whole Christian thing but I didn't really know you. You were so popular and everyone wanted to be around you and I admired you just like everyone else. But, now, you're basically my sister and I'd do just about anything for you. You feel lonely and scared but that's okay-"

I turn away. My legs start moving back towards the house because we are not having this conversation. There's a tug on my arm and, even though this is pointless, I spin around to face him. He gives me this look (the kind that always freaks me out), holds his hand out and whispers, "It's okay."

Do you ever ache to do something, but you can't because you know it'll give people high expectations of you? Like if I were to start initiating hand holding people would assume I was thawing, like snow when the sun finally breaks out. So I can't. But I want to. And Eddie gets it. I wait a few seconds.

"You know for a second there I thought were going to confess your undying love for me. But I guess your saving that for Jill, huh?"

"I take it back. I will hate you until my dying day." That makes me laugh, which is weird but not in a bad way.

"If you'd just tell her I wouldn't be-"

Eddie suddenly has somewhere to be. The hypocrite. "It's cold. I should get back inside." He walks a few feet away then stops. He smirks, like he knows something I don't. "I'll see you later, Sydney." My eyebrows go up. It's not like I won't be inside in a little while. I listen for his footsteps and take a deep breath when they fade.

If you think about it, life is a constant push and pull. Someone's always pushing you to be what they want you to be. You're always pulling to be who you want to be. I guess the thing is that after awhile you get tired, the motion starts to make you sick and you settle down into what life makes you.

Sometimes I get tired of pulling.

"Sage, why aren't you wearing a coat? It's freezing."

My body freezes. That voice sounds a lot like...

"Adrian?"

His tall form comes into my view and I don't know what to do so I stare. This is crazy. How much did I have to drink today? Because maybe I did go a little extreme but there was a lot of people talking all at once and my head was hurting. Jesus. Adrian rolls his eyes, which are even greener then I remembered. He has a bruise on his neck and his jeans are torn but he looks good. Amazing. Maybe I shouldn't even be surprised. But it makes me angry.

"I see you're still as fashion impaired as usually."

A smile. "Good to see you too, Sage."

So, like, does he think now would be a good time to tell me where he's been. And, oh, why I can't remember bits and pieces about the day we crashed.

I fumble in my jean pocket for a cigarette and light up. Ignoring him is the more appropriate option. He sighs and stands closer to me, draping his coat around my shoulders. "Do you mind?" I shake my head and he leans in and put his mouth on the end of my cigarette, pulling it out of my mouth. I shiver, which is strange because I'm really not that cold.

"Dude."

"Sorry. Not really."

Asshole. I hate guys. I wish women could have sex with other women to have children. I add that to my non- existent Christmas list. Okay, now it exists.

"I'm going to be leaving again soon. There's a lot of stuff going on that I don't want get you guys involved in." And Keith obviously has something to do with it. That much I remember. An idea takes shape but I hesitate. Is this what I want? My mouth forms the question anyway.

"Can I come? I mean, when you leave again?"

"Why?" Confusion etches itself into his expression.

I don't know. Maybe because I'm getting stretched so thin I am practically invisible. "Just let me come. I could help you. Your so hopelessly clueless and naïve. You'll need someone like me around."

"I'll think about it."

He hands me the slim white fixation back. I put it out, wondering if I'll ever understand him. Then again, why would I want to?

I tilt my head. "I'm going back inside. You might want to tear some of your clothes and look less…"

"Good-looking? That's impossible."

"Shut up and hurry. You'll get sick out here without you're coat."

"The coat you have on," He makes a tsk sound at the glare I send him. "Besides, I didn't think you cared."

I don't. He just makes me feel like a contradiction. Like I want to strangle him and be his friend at the same time. Not that I'll tell him that.

Suddenly, he says, "We could go now."

Is he serious? The expression on his face tells me deadly so. I weigh my options. Stay in the house where nothing ever changes but my boredom levels, or go with a person I was admittedly worried about but mostly am suspicious of?

"Fuck it. Let's go. But you're explaining everything and I mean it, Ivashkov."

Adrian laughs, grabbing my hand. His hand is warm, reminding me of when were trapped in that room and I snuggled close to him for body heat.

"Yes, ma'am."