II. Greg

I have this dream you're doing cool shit,

having adventures on your own.

You meet some woman on the internet and take her home.

We never painted by the numbers, baby,

but we were making it count.

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now.

I guess you never know, never know;

and it's another day waking up alone.

He watched droplets of condensation trickle down the bottle of beer he had been nursing since he first sat down at the high top Ruzek, Burgess, and Atwater waved him over to. He hadn't wanted to accept Atwater's offer and Ruzek's plea to come get drinks with them. In fact, coming to Molly's was the absolute last thing he planned on doing tonight but, given the way his life had been going as of late, he reasoned that spending his night drinking alone in his shitty, hole-in-the-wall apartment was not the best decision. So, here he was, wedged between the three Intelligence members, staring intently at the little tracks of water dripping down the dark brown bottle, and doing his best to push all thoughts of Olivia Halstead out of his head—a mission he was failing miserably with.

Eight years, eight fucking years since he had last seen her, and he blew it. Again. God, if only he could just get his shit together and not be such a fucking coward.

Except no, he wasn't a coward. It may have taken him eight years to finally somewhat accept that, but he was no coward. He had to leave, he had to distance himself and all of his fucked-up shit from her. "For her own good," was what he always told himself whenever he started to feel exceptionally pissed off over their relationship's demise. "You did it for her own good."

But what was it that she had said (more like screamed)?

"It's not like my hopes and dreams panned out the way I wanted them to."

Since she left him in the Hole, those words were all he had been able to think about. Not what he said, not what he didn't say, and most definitely not the job he was supposed to have been doing. Even now, her statement kept playing repeatedly inside of his head, begging him to see the error of his ways and to go and finish the repair job she so valiantly attempted on her own this afternoon.

A sharp jab to his upper left arm jostled him from further contemplating whether or not he should just suck it up and make the trek to Jay's place.

"Huh? What?" His head snapped upwards and connected with three sets of eyes all staring at him in concern. "Sorry guys," he mumbled, unsure if his apology was for spacing out on them or making them concerned for him in the first place. It had been too long since anyone other than Jay cared about him and his well-being and what he had to say and it was instances like this that made him recognize just how unused to real, genuine friendships he had become.

"It's all good man," Ruzek waved off his apology with a lift of his own bottle of beer. "Kev and I were just discussing Halstead's sister and how no one seemed to know she existed."

So much for forcing his mind to think of things other than Olivia.

Judging by the way they were looking at him, he knew they expected him to elaborate on the intricacies of the Halstead family. Which, in a way, was funny to him because how did they really know that he knew any more than they did?

Not wanting to betray Jay's trust, he just shrugged and gave the most honest, yet vague, answer that he could manage. "Jay keeps his personal life close to his vest," he explained. "It's a R-Rangers thing. The l-less people know about you, t-the bett-better."

"Well, that seems like a dumb rule," Ruzek commented, tossing back the last gulp of his beer.

"Not if it's the matter between life and death," he shot back darkly. He knew Ruzek couldn't help himself and he knew that he didn't know any better, but he hated when civilians made observations about military lifestyle when they really didn't know anything about it and what soldiers had to do every day to survive to see the next. "Less info out there means one less way the enemy can t-torture you."

Everyone at the table, himself included, shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Him and Jay were notorious for being tight-lipped about their experiences overseas and whenever they slipped up on a detail, no matter the size, no one ever knew how to respond to it. Maybe that was his and Jay's faults or maybe it wasn't, but he was feeling pretty stupid for taking the direction of the conversation away from where it initially intended to go.

"So…" Burgess started awkwardly. "Did you know Olivia too? Or were you just friends with Jay?"

It was an innocent question with the most complicated answer. "Y-yeah, I know—knew—her. I grew up with them."

Lisa Gerwitz's car pulled into the driveway of their new home with a great, loud screech.

"Here we are buddy," she turned her head to the backseat so that she was facing her son, who's head was buried deep inside of his copy of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. "Home sweet home." Her little boy's head stayed in between the pages, his mind clearly stuck in a world far, far away from Canaryville, Illinois.

"Greg, sweetie, time to put the book down and get settled in," she tried her best not to sound exasperated. At seven years old, she knew her son couldn't help but be disinterested in the actual moving process itself.

Nevertheless, like the good boy he was, Greg put the book down and peeked out the window to get his first glimpse of the house the two of them would now be living in. It was small and nothing extravagant, but it had a fenced-in front yard that made the whole place seem somewhat appealing.

Maybe he'd be able to make a friend or two and they'd be able to play pirates or cops and robbers in the front yard…

Turning his head away from his new, blue painted home, he looked at his mom with a small smile, a brush of air slipping through the gap of his two missing teeth, one spot vacant on the top and bottom sides of his mouth.

Given the small number of things they actually brought with them (the rest was being delivered sometime in the next few days), it took almost no time for the mother and son duo to get situated in their new home. Greg was excited; his mother set up his new bedroom with pirate-themed decorations.

He was carrying the last of the small boxes containing a select few of his favorite toys when he heard them. Turning around to observe, he watched a little brown-haired girl run around the front yard of her home in a pink bathing suit while her older brother chased her down with a hose. The girl was screeching, and her brother was laughing hysterically. Greg, an only child, never felt more saddened by the fact that he didn't have an older brother or younger sister to play with in his new front yard.

"Why don't you go over and say hi?" His mother suggested when she came over to see what the holdup was. "I'm sure I can manage these last few boxes on my own."

Not wanting his mother to change her mind and eager to make a friend, he put down the box he was holding and raced across the street.

"Hi!" he greeted, standing on the sidewalk and not daring to take a step further until he was introduced to the brother and sister. Greg tried not to feel disheartened when neither of them noticed him right away. "Hi!" he shouted again, this time a little louder than before. Again, no returned response.

Daringly, he took a step onto the yellowed grass and put himself in both of their eyesights. "Hi!" he exclaimed a third time. Both of them stopped their game and finally looked in his direction. "My name is Greg! I just moved in next door!"

The brother stepped forward first, a wide smile splitting across his face; he was missing some teeth as well. "My name is Jay," he introduced. "How old are you?" An odd question to follow up an introduction but one Greg had no trouble answering.

"Seven!"

"Yes!" Jay pumped his arms up in the air, the water spraying out of the hose sprinkling over all of them. "Me too! No one else on the street is our age." Greg liked the way that he said 'our'; it was he had already been inducted into a special club for just the two of them.

"This is Liv by the way," Jay continued, pointing to his little sister, who was watching them both with big, blue eyes. "She's three and a girl, but she's alright."

Liv offered him a shy smile, which he reciprocated, and asked if he wanted to play with them too. Jay didn't even wait for his answer; he just sprayed Greg down with a laugh and egged him on to hold Liv still so he could completely spray her down as well.

"Woah," Atwater's voice pulled him back to the present. "I never knew you guys went that far back."

"Oh yeah." The grin formed on Mouse's face involuntarily. "The Halstead's and I go way back. Like I told you before, the stories I can tell you about Jay…" He trailed off, flashes of him and his best friend through the years flicking across a non-existent screen in front of his eyes.

"So, what's the deal with his sister then?" Ruzek asked, leaning forward in his seat and resting his arms on the table. "We know Jay's ex-military and a detective, Will's a freaking surgeon, what's she into?"

Mouse prickled at the 'ex-military' comment but chose to ignore the urge to correct his friend, who's question was lingering over him like a rainy cloud just waiting to open up.

What was Liv into? He knew what she wanted to be, knew she had a specific plan to achieve her goals and dreams, but until today, never put much thought into what became of those plans and dreams and goals. Some part of him, the naïve and desperate part, clung to the belief that she accomplished everything she wanted and then some; that she overcame everything that stood in her way and legitimately made something of herself in ways her two brothers and himself never would.

But, as she made a point to tell him, "It's not like my hopes and dreams panned out the way I wanted them to."

"T-the last time I uh, I saw her,"—a painful memory he wished he did not have to bring to mind—"she um, she was dead set on becoming the next Anna Wintour." His fingers became fixated on peeling off the bottle's label, his gaze hardened on one particular droplet of condensation that refused to begin its trek down the bottle.

Around him, he heard both Ruzek and Atwater ask who Anna Wintour was and Burgess providing them with an abridged explanation ("She's the Editor-in-Chief of Vogue!") He tried to tune out the mention of the iconic magazine, tried to block out all of the times she sat by his side reading one issue or another and making a point to show him all of her favorite styles and lament about how she wished she was able to afford and own the same clothes and jewelry and fragrances shown across every page.

"I promise," he told her one night, when it was just the two of them. Will was off at college and Jay was out on a date with Allie, leaving the two of them to kill some time until either Jay came home or one (or both) of them fell asleep. "One day, you'll have all of that. The clothes, the jewelry, the makeup, the job, all of it."

"You think?" she looked over to where he was sitting at the opposite end of the couch, her thirteen-year-old eyes so hopeful and desperate to hear his belief in her dream—a dream no one else in her family ever seemed to support or understand.

"I know."

If there was one thing he did know at seventeen, it was that the girl sitting to the side of him was going to grow up and achieve what no one ever thought she'd be able to.

"I don't think that's what she's doing though," he mumbled with a slight shrug. "So, I guess I don't really know."

All three of his companions seemed to pick up on his desire to not engage in this conversation topic any longer. In fact, if he was being honest, he no longer wanted to partake in this entire evening. The more he thought of Liv, the more memories that came to mind, the more he felt like an exceptionally horrible human being. She was one of his best friends and, somewhere along the way, he lost her and made no effort whatsoever to get her back. Granted, it was his own decision to leave her behind, but to not even acknowledge her now that she was back? If he was looking in a mirror, he was sickened to think he probably wouldn't even recognize himself.

Very quickly, the space around him seemed to close in on him. Fighting back the shouts of alarm that were trying to force their way out of his mouth, he abruptly stood up, the high-top table shaking from the brutish way he pushed back in his chair.

"Jesus Mouse, buddy, what's up with you?" Ruzek exclaimed, barely catching his drink in time before it toppled over and spilt.

"I uh, I'm done for the night guys, sorry," he mumbled, snatching his coat that draped across the back of his chair and rushing out of the bar before any of his friends were able to get another word in. He wasn't sure where he was going; he just knew that he had to go. Go run and hide from the mess he made of his relationship with Liv, go to Jay and allow his self-proclaimed brother to talk him down (again) before he did anything rash and stupid, go to Liv herself and finish the attempt to fix whatever they were she started this afternoon, go home and wipe away all of the memories he wanted to ignore with the congratulatory bottle of whiskey Jay had splurged on him when he got the job at the district…the possibilities were endless and the more that came to mind, the more anxious he became. Only one of the options was the right one and it was the one he least wanted to make.

But it was one that he had to choose if he wanted to bring some semblance of sanity to his already slightly unbalanced life.

Mind reluctantly made, Mouse deliberately walked to his small, beat up, rust bucket of a car, scrambled into it, and peeled out of the parking lot, his tires screeching at the urgency in which he stomped on the gas pedal and turned the wheel. The quicker he went, the less time he had to change his mind.

The ride to Jay's apartment was nothing short of one big blur. Breath coming out in fast, unsteady heaves, he stared up at the building and told himself repeatedly that this was the right decision, that he needed to talk to her.

"You can do this," he encouraged himself. "You have to do this." It was bold of him to make this stand in Jay's home, but maybe bold was what he needed, maybe bold was what would make him feel most like his old self, the 'self' that Liv hopefully remembered him as.

Much like the car ride over, the journey up to Jay's apartment also blurred before his eyes and, without him even really realizing it, he was pounding on Jay's door and announcing his arrival. "Guys," he called out. "It's me! Open up!"

Five, ten, fifteen seconds went by before the door swung open and revealed Jay, his face red with fury.

"Geez," Mouse said, his own worries and fears cast to the side at the sight of his buddy's visible distress. "What's wrong with you?"

"Fucking Will," Jay seethed, stepping to the side to let Mouse in. "Him and Olivia went at it and now she's gone, and he's just been filling me in on what exactly went down between her and him before she left."

A ball of anger and fear got caught in his throat, blocking his airways from getting a sufficient about of air in and out. He knew exactly what Will had said that had Jay so ticked off, knew exactly what happened between Will and Liv to make her run far, far away from him.

When did I become so alone in the world? When did my life go from having two brothers and you to having no one at all to protect me? I knew my dad wasn't perfect, but I never would have thought he'd come at me like he did and there'd be no one there to stop him. Everyone left me here and I was defenseless, and Will didn't even bother to pick up the phone. I'm done, I can't do this anymore, live with him anymore. Everyone else left, so why can't I?

The small snippet of the words she had written him came to mind and he had to quickly erase them before Jay caught on to the fact that he just might know more about his little sister than he did.

"Where did she go?" he tentatively asked, doing his best to leave any guilt out of his voice. "If she's not here?"

"Erin's," Jay exhaled, visibly relieved that his sister was at his girlfriend's home and not wandering the streets of Chicago by herself. "She came back with us and decided to offer Liv and Madison N-Nadia's old room." A deafening silence fell over them as they remembered their fallen friend, the wounds her horrific murder left on them still hideously raw and immensely painful.

"That was nice of her," Mouse finally commented. "Probably for the best too, your place is too small for all four of you to stay here." In a way, he thought to himself, it was fitting that Liv was taking refuge in Nadia's old bedroom. The two girls were more similar than anyone but him probably realized. Both were eager to make something of themselves, both were eager to rise above the conditions in which they were born into and raised in, both had dreams that many would deem far beyond even their longest, most strained reach, both of them clearly came from a place that left them needing all the help they could get…

"Yeah," Jay interrupted his private musings. "I know. I just wish…God man, I just wish there was something more for me to do. Liv's my sister and…"

Mouse watched his best friend struggle to put his inner turmoil into words. Jay Halstead was many things—a great guy, an even better sniper, and a hell of a brother and detective—but being emotionally available and open was nowhere near his list of redeeming qualities. Luckily, he knew him well enough to know what he was trying to say.

"It's a tough situation man," he sympathized. "None of us knew she was coming back."

"Yeah," Jay chuckled darkly. "And that she'd have a kid with her and clearly only here because she's in some kind of trouble."

Mouse hissed in a sharp breath at the insinuation towards the obvious bruise on his eye. If he were a better man, if he were a stronger man, getting down to the bottom of who struck her face would have been the first thing he did. The thought of someone laying a hand on her made him absolutely sick to his stomach.

"Did she give you any information about that?" he muttered, his ears picking up on Will's footfalls coming to join them. Sure enough, seconds later, the grinning redhead appeared.

"You two ever going to come inside?" he asked jovially, his tone a stark contrast to the one Jay was sporting when he answered the door. "Or are you going to continue being weirdos and hang out in the doorway all night?"

Jay, clearly still ticked off at his older brother, socked him in the upper arm. "We were just discussing Liv," he said with a pointed glare. "Didn't think you cared enough about her to want to listen."

Mouse watched Will's demeanor immediately change at the slight. Grin falling from his face, his eyes hardened as he hissed, "That's not true and you know it, of course I care about her."

Jay disregarded Will's words, shoving his shoulder against his brother as he pushed past him and barreled into the generously called living room. Mouse leveled a look with Will before following Jay's path, his shoulders hunched and mind racing. Liv wasn't here and he was pretty convinced that he did not have enough wits about himself to talk about her with Will and Jay. Mentally kicking himself for not factoring in the possibility that she would be unavailable to talk to him while making his rash decision, he plopped down on the old, worn-out recliner chair and accepted the beer Jay was now passing his way.

Taking a long swig, desperate for the amber liquid to give him any means of strength to get through the rest of this unaccounted-for evening, he leaned back in the chair and waited for Jay or Will, who had rejoined them, to say something.

"We need a plan," Jay finally stated, the military-man in him ready to find a strategy for the battle that was undoubtedly coming their way. "She clearly needs help and us bickering with each other," he paused, his eyes flickered over to Will, who flinched under the stare. "Isn't going to do anything but make things worse. Clearly."

Mouse heard Will mutter a couple of choice words under his breath. Realizing that he was going to have to be the buffer between the two brothers, he took another swig in hope to gain some liquid courage before opening his mouth to say, "I don't think there is anything we really can do but wait for her to want to come to us." Both brothers looked pissed at his words, but they refrained from saying so. "We don't even know what she's been up to or what happened…k-kind of hard to pl-plan when we don't have all of the…all of the information."

It was Jay's sigh of resignation that informed him he said the right thing. As much as all three of them wanted to help Liv, there really was nothing they could do until they knew what she needed help with. His naïve self was crushed at the realization she was living a much different life than what he imagined her living all of these years, but it was time for him to face reality and accept that he was wrong and begin collecting the truth that accompanied the last eight years of her life.

"I hate this," Jay mumbled; Will hummed in agreement. "I hate not knowing and I hate that she won't even let us in an inch."

Mouse curtly nodded his head in agreement. "We made our beds, time to lay in them." That harsh truth was the only thing he was certain of.

The three of them finished their beers in silence, neither of them knowing what more to say. Liv was back and yet, at the same time, she wasn't. She returned someone completely different, and it was of no fault but their own that they were unable to recognize her.

"Well guys," Mouse said after swallowing the last sip of beer. "This was fun, but I should probably head out."

"Aw man, you don't have to go," Jay said. "Stay and have at least one more drink with us."

"Yeah buddy," Will chimed in. "You just got here."

With a groan, Mouse stood up and set his empty bottle on the wooden coffee table Will and Jay were both resting their feet on. "Wish I could boys, but this wasn't my first of the night, wasn't even my second, and I gotta get up in the morning." He offered them a sheepish smile and quickly let himself out before either of them could get another word in. He wished he had it in him to stay, wished that he could let go of his stress and anxiety and drink beer and shoot the breeze with the two brothers. He hated that he had to go before the ticking bomb in his head went off.

"You think too much Greggy," Liv laughed, tossing a crumpled-up piece of paper in his direction from across the kitchen table. "Don't you think so Jay-Jay?"

Twelve years later, Liv's observation was still fresh in his memory, same as the shit-eating grin Jay flashed him right before he playfully cussed Liv out for calling him Jay-Jay. Stuffing his hands into his coat pockets, he rushed down the stairs with enough speed that his mind had no choice but to focus on nothing but putting one foot in front of the other and making sure he didn't miss a step. He wholly welcomed the reprieve from the flood of tormenting thoughts and was thoroughly crushed when it ended.

Decidedly still not in the mood to go home and be left alone with all of his thoughts and memories, he acted on pure instinct when he got back into his car.

After he returned to Chicago from his second tour, a battered shell of himself, he resolved to avoid all of the bridges downtown and only ventured across them unless absolutely necessary. There was no reason for the resolution, just fear of what he'd do when he was having a particularly bad night. It was a hard truth for him to swallow because, prior to his second deployment, he loved to waste time walking across the different bridges. To him, the views were always unparalleled and the people watching was his favorite source of entertainment. Jay never understood his love for the rickety old bridges, but Liv? She loved them too. Hence another reason why he came back from Afghanistan that second time and avoided them like the plague.

Not anymore though.

Too much fear and anxiety were running through his body for him to want to waste time being afraid of another thing. Apart from Jay and Liv, the bridges were one of his favorite places to seek comfort from and, after the day he had, the conversations he did and didn't partake in, he felt like he needed some semblance of comfort before he ventured back to his apartment. Unfortunately, once there he will be truly alone with nothing but his thoughts and there will be nothing at his disposal to block them out.

Parking his car in an emptied metered spot less than hundred yards from his desired destination, Mouse welcomed the chilly, mid-November breeze that brushed by him, slightly rustled his hair to the side, and joined him on the short walk to the DuSable Bridge. Despite it being almost ten o'clock at night, the bridge was still bustling with people—mostly groups of college kids on their way to one of the many downtown bars—and for that he was extremely grateful. The more people that there was to watch, the more occupied his mind would be.

Reaching the halfway point on the bridge, a few steps to the left of where it would split in two once raised, Mouse turned around and leaned his back against the railing. Eyes scanning the space around him, he watched as a group of three, scantily dressed girls shriek in drunk laughter as they stumbled their way across. Straining his ears, he blushed furiously when he discovered they were cackling over the crude jokes the girl in the middle was making about her hookup with some guy the night before. Quickly turning his attention elsewhere, he was just about to settle on a mixed group of adults that looked relatively older than himself when he saw her.

Standing across the way on the other side of where the bridge split, staring out at the water, Liv's body as still as a statue. Despite her back being to him, he knew without a doubt that it was her. Many things had changed about her in the past eight years, but not her hair; he'd recognize those long, dark brown locks with the slight curl at the ends anywhere.

It had to be fate, he thought as he continued to stare at Liv's unmoving figure. Her coat was wrapped tightly around her body and, if he flinched, he'd be able to see her knees slightly buckle in discomfort over the outside temperatures and the heels she still had not taken off. Why else would she be here, on this bridge of all places, when he was now trying to ignore any and all thoughts about her after a brief, desperate attempt to talk to her?

Mentally debating what to do (should he make his presence known or should he stay hidden in the shadows not penetrated by the streetlights?), he directed his attention elsewhere, hoping that not having his sights on her will provide him a faster, clearer answer on what he should do.

Except, he continued to think as his gaze settled on a young couple that were too into each other to notice much of anything else, there was really only one correct answer on what he should—no needed—to do.

Decision made, Mouse mustered up some of the same kind of courage he used to call upon whenever he entered a firefight overseas and took off in her direction before he chickened out.

"Didn't think I'd ever see you here again," he greeted, positioning himself next to her and leaning against the rail. Facing the water, he stretched his arms outwards and clasped his hands together. The cold air stung against the chapped skin, and he welcomed the feeling as an anchor in his turbulent sea of emotions.

Liv flinched at the unexpected intrusion but quickly relaxed when she realized it was him. "Greg," she said in a tone of surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Pressing down on his forearms, he chanced a look at her as he mumbled, "Probably the same thing as you. Killing some time before going to bed."

"Sounds about right," she bit out, painfully articulating each word.

He nodded, eyes taking in the view in front of him as opposed to the side. Originally from a small, rural town in Pennsylvania, he always marveled at the city's beauty, especially at night.

All of the lit-up buildings cast an illuminating glow over the River, the shimmers of lights dancing with each of the current's ripples. In his opinion, the view was so peaceful that not even the never-ending hustle and bustle of the city took away from it. The sight's calming effect started to infiltrate his mind and he welcomed the sense of ease it was lending him.

He knew coming here was the right choice.

"Would you believe me if I told you Boston has views just like this? Maybe even better?" He was so well-wrapped in the calmness that he almost missed what she said.

"Yeah?" He asked, breaking his trance by tilting his head to the side to look at her. She nodded and the streetlight a few paces down from them reached out just far enough for him to make out the small, upwards quirk of her lips.

"Yep," she popped her 'p'. "It wasn't home though."

"And Chicago is?" He waited with bated breath to hear her answer and felt his heart drop into his stomach when she struggled to find an answer.

"In a way, I guess." Her eyes quickly flitted over him before settling back on the water. "Yeah…yeah, Chicago is home. No matter how much I wish it wasn't, it will always be my home."

He nodded, unsure of how to respond. What does one even say to that? Especially when the place in question was the only real home he has ever known and the place he fought so hard to get back to?

"I'm sorry," he whispered, hoping his voice conveyed just how much he was apologizing for with those two words. Sorry for leaving, sorry for not writing back, sorry for ignoring you for eight years, sorry for dismissing you when you came back, sorry you were forced home against your will, sorry you don't even want to consider your home your home anymore…there were so many different phrases that he wanted to attach to his apology he was at a loss over where to start. Hopefully, she still knew him well enough to hear all of his unspoken words.

If she did hear what he was trying to say, she did not address it. He wondered if he should be relieved or sad about that. Maybe a bit of both, he thought, exhaling deeply. His breath materialized in the air and completely vanished before Liv opened her mouth to speak again.

"This was where we last saw each other, remember?" Oh yeah, he remembered, he thought darkly. "We were standing over there," she pointed in the direction to the left of her. "And you told me you and Jay received your orders and were going to have to 'go back to hell.'" He almost had to laugh at the way her gloved fingers air quoted his words. Back to hell indeed… "You failed to mention you were taking off less than twenty-four hours later."

"I'm sor—" She stuck her hand up, halting his words from coming out of his mouth.

"—Three days later, Dad got drunk and was especially fed up with the fact that his wife was dead, his sons had gone off to chase 'stupid and pointless careers', and he was stuck with a daughter who's head was too high up in the clouds to make herself useful." It was his turn to flinch, the bitterness in her voice sharp and deliberate. "I left the day after that." She paused then, unsure of where to continue.

He wanted to provide her some direction, to ask the questions that he had been begging to have the answers for from the moment she said, "Hey Greggy," in the bullpen. He wanted to know what happened to make her say, "It's not like my hopes and dreams panned out the way I wanted them to." He wanted to know so many things, from whether or not her favorite color was still yellow to who blackened her eye and sent her running home. He wanted to know why she didn't go to New York after graduating from Harvard like she planned and what she ended up doing that made her forget or disregard or lose interest in her lifelong goal of being the next Anna Wintour. He wanted to know so many things, but he knew, from the moment she opened her mouth and reminded him of the last time they saw each other, he lost all of his rights to ask. So, he waited (somewhat impatiently) for her to decide her own direction and whether or not he was welcomed on the ride.

"And here I am, eight years later, and you tell me that I should go?" She finally choked out, skipping eight years' worth of memories. "What the hell Greg?" There was no anger or malice in her tone, just heartbreak and pain that had him second guessing his decision to come over and talk to her. Why does he only ever seem to bring her pain?

Agony boiling up inside of him, he clasped his hands tighter together and opened his mouth to speak. Except, no words managed to get out because once again, she cut him off.

"I've been thinking about it all," her words came out in a barely audible whisper. "And I just don't care anymore. Whatever your reasons were, I really don't care. I meant what I said, I missed you, I still do, and I'd rather forget everything than lose you over the past."

"Liv," he spoke her name softly and with such fragility the wind almost carried it away. "I'm sorry." Using up the last bit of his courage, he unfolded his hands and dared to reach over and take one of hers into his own. Her fingers gripped around his like they were her lifeline and his hand was the only thing keeping her tethered to this world.

She said nothing, just simply shuffled over until her body bumped against his own and rested her head against his shoulder. He stiffened momentarily at the contact, but quickly relaxed against her body as well. In almost no time, their bodies melted together, and, for the first time in almost eight years, his mind and body felt completely at ease.

"Jay doesn't ever need to know what happened that summer," she muttered, her head turning so that her chin now pressed into his shoulder. "Can we please agree to keep what happened between us."

Every bit of his heart screamed at him to disagree with her. He never wanted to forget that summer, never wanted to forget what it felt like to have her and to be with her. But his brain overrode his heart's desires because, no matter what his heart felt, he knew Jay could never find out that he, Greg Gerwitz, fell irrevocably in love with his little sister and that he loved her greatly and abundantly. That, even after all these years, his mind was in constant torment because deep down he knew he still loved her and probably always will.

It was why he was so dumbstruck when he first saw her, why he acted like such a pitiful mess when she went down to confront him, why he struggled to get through the rest of his day, why he found it hard to talk about Liv with anyone, and most especially why his mind was reduced to a completely jumbled up mess that saw no clarity in sight.

But none of that mattered now. They were over and he knew the only wise decision to be made here was to go along with what she was asking him, regardless of his own personal feelings. Like she said, he really missed her too and if they couldn't be lovers, going back to being each other's best friends was the next best thing.

"Summer of '07 will be our little secret," he vowed, daringly pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of her forehead. He couldn't contain a small chuckle when the big, fluffy pom-pom on her hat tickled his cheek, which had begun to tingle in the cold. "I promise."

Liv nodded her head and smiled, but he was disheartened to see that it didn't quite reach her eyes the way he remembered it to. "Too bad I don't believe in promises anymore," she said pointedly, pulling her body away from his own and stepping one, two, three steps back from him. "See you around Greggy."

She turned on her heel and, for the second time that day, walked away from him.

Left alone with a whole new host of thoughts, he sighed and watched her retreating figure until he was no longer able to.

"See you around Liv," he murmured, turning to face the water and welcoming the trance the lights dancing with ripples put him under. "See you around."