Firstly, thanks to all of you who reviewed: fallingstar22, Yung Warrior and annyRhale.

Secondly, thank you to the ones who replied to my PM. Your opinion is something that I appreciate at all times.

And finally, tons of thanks to bodysurfer27 for beta'ing this. The surfing scene and lots of other beautiful lines would not have been here had it not been for her. Very mildly put, she rocks!

This is going to be the last update of 2015. So, happy holidays to all of you who are reading this, have a wonderful year ahead.

That's all, I believe. Enjoy Chapter Seven!

Tori

Do you like walking in the rain?
When you think of love, do you think of pain?
You can tell me what you see
I will choose what I believe.

Hold on, darling
This body is yours,
This body is yours and mine
Well hold on, my darling
This mess was yours,
Now your mess is mine.

-Mess Is Mine,

Vance Joy.

I do not remember the last time I felt like this: alive and energized. The sound of the waves lapping around me is calming and as I drift further away from the shore, leaving the chaos and pandemonium of civilization behind, I find the blaring obstreperous noises in my head slowly ceasing as I listen to the gentle heartbeat of mother nature. The serene silence that reigns around me feels unfamiliar, the past few days having been dominated by nothing but inconclusive tumultuous wars in my head. I cannot recall the last time when I could think of something other than the hurt and the pain, the afflicting clenching of my heart, anf the persistent void within me and us, irreparably broken, hopelessly fractured and irretrievably shattered. I do not remember the last time I felt anything more than a wrecked mess with a throbbing heart, the last time when I did not feel my insides crumbling, the last time when I did not feel guilty for barreling presumptuous spiteful words at him.

By now, I have paddled out farther into the salty body of water, my element surrounding me, wrapping its powerful protective arms around me as I stand and feel the rush of adrenaline surge through my body dropping gracefully into what is known as the drop. Here, in the midst of vast expanses of my element, everything has been reduced to a watery blur when I find myself set up with a tube, a tunnel of water cocooned around me and I can breathe again while my eyes focus on the foam beneath my board instead of constantly searching the horizon for him, thinking of him, of the people on the beach, and to the conflicts in my head. Here, I can focus on the feeling of empowerment and allowing the water all around to heal me, rejuvenate me, fix me.

Back on the beach, I cannot help but keep a lookout for him. It is not a conscious effort; if anything at all my conscience screams at me to avoid him, to keep myself away from him. Because every time we are together, we end up creating more problems, more confusions, more tension rather than resolve anything. I wonder why we do it, how we manage to do it.

I had always pictured us like two parts of a well oiled machine: we worked in unison, in sync; we understood each other better than anyone, we did not need words to communicate. Silence was our strongest weapon. We had each other's back all the time, we saved each other from our own demons; we were perfect together.

Only, we were never together.

Perhaps we were that unfinished incomplete spectacular breathtaking story: nearly complete, almost concluded, almost resolved yet not quite. Perhaps that is all we were meant to be, and it was my fault asking for more...hoping for more. Perhaps this is our fairytale-a broken fairytale with tears that ford gaps and bring completion, hurt and accusation that scream longing and desire, denial spurred by passion and love.

If it is just an incomplete story and broken fairytale that I get with Hunter then that is all I want.

Because an unfinished story with Hunter is worth living for, worth dying for, worth a lifetime of pain and endless suffering rather than a complete story without him.

It is with growing alarm that I realize that today is the fourth day in a row that I have not seen Hunter at the beach, or actually four days since I saw him at all.

Four days since we kissed.

I want to rule it out as everything but a result of the mess between us, a coincidence, a chance occurrence, anything that does not make me feel guilty. But the voice of reason in my head that has not died yet booms loud and clear: Hunter is avoiding the beach.

And me.

The woods have never felt emptier, lonelier. The walk seems longer than usual and the silence is frightening me. It threatens to swallow me, the chirping of the birds sounds panicked and suppressed, and everything around me is a vague reminder of all that I have lost.

Of who I have lost.

Every slight sound sets my heart racing in anticipation, every movement in the woods makes my insides surge with hope.

But with every step that inches me closer to the Academy, with every step that takes me closer to no one, with every step that snatches me away from the idea of him, all my hopes die: steadily veering down initially and then, suddenly and abruptly it vanishes.

Just like him.

I always look forward to the joint classes that we conduct: Shane, Dustin and I, and occasionally, Hunter and Cam. Working with all of them is reminiscent of the old Ranger days and is a reminder of the strong friendship that I have forged with them. A family I have found and cherished within them.

Hunter and Cam are absent today. I cannot say that Hunter's absence comes as a surprise; presumably, he wants to avoid these classes for the rest of his life.

"We kicked their asses today!" Dustin's enthusiastic exclamation cuts through my thoughts.

"Isn't that completely natural, considering how we are supposed to be the ones with years of training?" Shane counters flatly.

"But it still feels amazing to kick someone's ass," Dustin says, excitement unabated.

"Tell him to shut up, Tori," Shane groans. I let out a little laugh, their good natured bickering relieving some of the load off my shoulders.

They lapse into yet another argument and I listen to them, amused at their childish, puerile fights. These playful fights bring me back to how we used to be before.

Before he came. And made my life a living hell.

We are almost at the waterfall when Dustin brings up Hunter. "I haven't seen Hunter in days, man. Is he okay?"

I feel the colour draining from my face at the mention of him, guilt gnawing at me for all that I said to him.

"He seemed a little under the weather the last time I saw him," Shane says, casting a sideways glance at me.

Perhaps I am over-thinking, perhaps I am not, but I recognize an underlying question in Shane's look.

"I haven't seen him in a few days," I say truthfully, voice muted and lifeless.

"Weird," Dustin deadpans. "He always talks to you."

Shit.

I do not know how to handle this situation. I feel a pit forming in my stomach, a lump forming in my throat, a fist clenching my heart, and I fail to say anything.

"Oh Dustin! I almost forgot, Kapri wanted to talk to you," Shane interjects, clearly trying to clear the air, having picked up on my discomfort. I could always count on Shane to have my back, without needing to say a word either.

Dustin, oblivious to everything, asks with a frown on his face, "Kapri? For what?"

"I don't know," Shane shrugs. "Why don't you go talk to her?"

I am glad for this: the change of subject that Shane has brought about.

"Okay, dude, whatever," Dustin mumbles before he leaves the two of us in the woods and disappears into the waterfall.

Shane does not say anything until well after Dustin is gone.

"So, what's up?" he starts awkwardly.

"You don't have to do this, Shane," I say firmly, seeing through his efforts.

"Do what?"

"This!" I exclaim. "Try and make me talk because you think that something's wrong."

He sighs, then lowers his voice, attempting to make me vulnerable and give in to his question. "Well, is there something wrong?"

I want to scream yes, tell him that every damn thing around me is wrong, that I feel like they can never be right. One look at my face, his eyes studying mine, had him scrambling to keep me in the conversation. Apparently my face gave away my discomfort.

"Okay, you don't have to reply," Shane says before I can say anything. "But I know something is wrong. So, what's it?"

"Shane," I begin. "Can we please not talk about this?"

"Talking always helps, right? You told me that."

"Did I?" I mumble. "Stupid me."

We have reached the waterfall but Shane clearly has other plans in mind.

"Do you have classes now?" he asks.

I shake my head, wary of where this is going.

"Good," he smiles. "I have the perfect place in mind."

His perfect place turns out to be the stream that runs through the woods.

It is a place that I usually avoid since I do not exactly have happy memories of it. This used to be my favorite place when I first joined the Academy. The memories all seem of a different time, of a different world, belonging to a different person. Back then, I was hardly in the best personal space: there were problems at home, my dad did not have a job, he remained drunk for almost all of his wakeful moments, my mother's job was hardly enough to sustain a family of four and the number of boys my sister brought home in a week outnumbered the number of proper meals we had. I remember coming to the stream and drowning in my sorrows all by myself. That was a time before I found Shane and Dustin, a time before Sensei Watanabe took me under his wing, a time before I found myself. Quite naturally, I was not particularly fond of the stream: it reminded of a time I would rather forget.

But today, here with Shane, it does not hurt all that much. In fact, it seems comforting, soothing, a welcomed change from the dynamics of my daily life I decided to embrace with open arms. It is ironical, really but if there is one thing I have learned it is: all wounds can heal, all cuts can be stitched, and all the pain and hurt can be washed away.

"Now, we can talk," Shane says as we seat ourselves on the bank.

"I don't know where to begin," I admit.

"Hunter," he states simply.

I let out a wry laugh, "How does everyone figure out all my problems stem from Hunter?"

"Because all problems usually stem from Hunter," he replies promptly.

"Can't agree any more," I mumble under my breath.

"Look, I don't know what's up with the two of you but you need to stop dancing around each other and do something about it because right now, both of you are hurting and it really isn't helping anyone."

"It's not that simple, Shane."

"Then, make it simple. Complications suck, okay? They seem exciting initially and give you this crazy adrenaline rush but in the long run, complications just screw up things."

"We aren't anything, Shane. It's all too twisted for me to explain."

"Tori," he sighs, wrapping an arm around me. "I don't want to know what happened between the two of you but it is killing both of you. Hunter is walking around like a zombie and I mean it-"

"You brought up a zombie in this conversation too?" I mutter.

He shrugs guiltlessly before continuing, "You look like you haven't slept in days and that is probably because you actually haven't slept in days. The two of you are clearly not on talking terms but how long can this go on?"

I awkwardly tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, nibbling on my lower lip.

"I don't know, Shane. I tried talking to him after… after…" I trail off helplessly.

"You slept together?" he offers.

"Shane! No!" I protest. "After we kissed."

"Oh," he says sheepishly. "All this because of a kiss?"

"No," I shake my head. "There's more to it."

He does not say anything and I continue, "We had always been very careful about not crossing that final line, you know. Thinking back, I still cannot explain the reason but we never became anything more. But then, a few nights back, we got drunk and we made out. I remembered nothing of it the next morning but Hunter very clearly told me that it was all a mistake. I tried to talk to him but he pushed me away. Then, he- we kissed again." I bowed my head to the side. "I haven't seen him since that."

"I still don't see where the problem lies."

"It lies in what we told each other, especially what I told him," I say. My head snaps up, the spoken words somehow driving the point home and I no longer feeling anything but guilt.

"You think you hurt him?"

"Yes," I reply, regret lacing my words.

"You should apologize to him."

"I know," I say quietly.

"Hunter loves you, Tori," he says, making my heart skip a beat. "He may be too stupid to realize it or too much of a wuss to accept it, but he does. What you both have is magic, it is the real thing, but sometimes good things don't work out and you have to let them go."

"Shane," I start to make him stop, fully knowing what he is going to say next.

"I hate to say this but you cannot wait around forever."

Cold hands wrap themselves around my heart, Shane's words chilling me, stopping me from breathing, smothering me with their truth.

At four in the afternoon, I am called away by one of my water ninjas to address a disciplinary concern, as ordered by Sensei Watanabe.

Reaching the training grounds, I realize it is a fight that had broken out between two students. Practically the entire Academy had collected to watch the drama unfold. I push my way through the crowd to find Shane, Dustin and Cam breaking up the fight.

I recognize one of the students as being one of Hunter's favorites. The other is an air ninja I do not know. For some reason, seeing the two of them glaring daggers at each other, I am reminded of Shane and Hunter when they had first met.

Shane hurls instructions upon the two of them: to first attend to their injuries and then meet him in his office. Cam, Dustin and I focus on dispersing the crowd.

Just as I begin to wonder where Hunter is, he comes to rest in front of us in his blazing glory of crimson.

My senses are kicked into overdrive at the very sight of him and it takes every bit of self restrain to not to rush to him and tell him that I am sorry, that I am not going to give up on him, that I was willing to wait for him, that I had realized that my life was better off with him in it, that I loved our broken fairytale, our unfinished story, that I loved us.

But he does not notice me, too busy inquiring of the situation in hand.

I let myself stare at him, observe him. True to what Shane had said, he looks like a zombie: barely perceptible dark circles under his eyes, the faintest hint of facial hair on him.

He probably feels my eyes on him because before he follows Shane and the students to Shane's office, he looks at me, blue eyes coming alive for a second, a smile spreading across his face, making my heart soar high with joy and plunge deep into a void with sadness, at the same time.

I visit Storm Chargers after I am done working in the Academy to meet Kelly, to thank her for last day.

When I walk in, the shop is crowded and seeing me, Kelly lets out a relieved sigh, "Thank God you are here! My cashier just pulled a Houdini on me. Can you please man the counter?"

I have to laugh at her situation and giving her a small salute, I make my way to the counter. It is an especially busy evening and I am kept busy for the next hour or so printing bills and collecting money.

Gradually, the crowd thins and Kelly comes to a tired stop beside me, collapsing onto a chair.

"I am so firing that guy!" she groans. "He just vanished without telling me anything and if I ask him about this tomorrow, he will give me a load of crap about his neighbor dying and his pet dog swallowing a bone."

"Fancy thoughts," I laugh.

"You bet," she mutters. "I am sorry for making you work. I-"

"Hey!" I cut her off. "I am always happy to help. Besides, I owe you for the other day. I wanted to thank you for listening to my whining that day."

She waves her hand dismissively, "Gee Tori, I was just being a friend. You don't have to thank me for that."

I get the feeling that she is about to say more, ask more, ask about Hunter, ask about us but she does not and we lapse into a comfortable silence, the calm occasionally disturbed by the chatter of the customers.

Our silence- my calm- is broken minutes later when a woman clad in riding gear walks in through the doors, her riding helmet tucked under her arm, her brown hair twisted into a rough bun.

It is irrational and unfounded but I dislike her from the very moment she calls out for Kelly, her voice, strong and fiery, her body language screaming feisty independence.

She is the kind of girl that turns heads, the kind I never was, the kind I could never be.

"Tally, hey!" Kelly greets her warmly.

"I need to pick up a pair of gloves for a friend of mine," she says, her lips twisting into a smirk. "But the problem is that he, being the kind of jackass he is, did not give me any specifications, just told me to find you and ask for his favorite pair of gloves. Apparently, you know all about his choices."

Kelly chuckles and I let out a forced laugh.

"I told him I am not going to come back if I get the wrong ones," she adds with a roll of her eyes.

"Alright, who is this friend of yours?" Kelly asks.

"Hunter," Tally says, rolling her eyes. "Bradley."

Shit.

I feel the smile disappearing from my face and suddenly, I struggle for air, the walls caging me, Tally trapping me. Unknown to me, I have wrapped my hands too tightly around the edge of the counter top and Kelly worryingly glances at me. "Hey Tor? You okay?"

Tally looks confused, glancing awkwardly at me.

"Yeah," I let a fake smile color my face.

"Okay," Kelly says, a tinge of worry still in her voice. "I am going to get the gloves, hold on."

"Sure," Tally nods.

I stand awkwardly behind the counter, mind whirring with a million thoughts, heart beating inexplicably and unexpectedly loud.

"Hey," it is Tally who speaks. "I might be mistaken but aren't you Tori Hanson? Surfing?"

It is my turn to look surprised.

"Yeah," I reply, fighting to keep my voice stable. "But do I know you?"

"I am afraid not," she smiles. "I am Talia Jones. You can call me Tally. I know Hunter, you know-" she hesitates before finally saying, "Blake's brother."

"Oh," I reply, unsure of what exactly she knows about me.

"Blake used to go on and on about you. So, that's how I know of you." She smiles.

I nod, voice lost somewhere in this strange medley of feelings from a time long forgotten and ones from now, those of pain and hurt.

She clearly notices my discomfort and apologizes immediately. "I am sorry. I probably should not have brought that up. Hunter told me things did not end well between the two of you."

"Hunter told you that?" My eyes widen with disbelief.

"Oh crap," she sighs. "I realize how strange this must be for you to listen to all this from a complete stranger. Gosh! I am so stupid."

I find the initial feelings of jealousy and envy towards her changing into something far more deep rooted: hatred. She probably does not deserve it but knowing what she knows, what Hunter has told her, I cannot help how I feel.

"Look," she says. "I don't think he meant to tell me about it. He was drunk that night and we-"

She stops there, her face flushed, her ears absolutely red.

That is when I piece it all together: she is not just his friend.

What she says next goes unheard by me: I am way too deep in my thoughts, too deep writhing in my jealousy. I do not know why it hurts so bad. I know Hunter is no saint, I know he sleeps around, I have always known that but today, for some reason, the knowledge of him and this girl rips my heart apart and I feel the need to leave, to get away from this place, from her.

Damn.

"Excuse me," I cut her off abruptly.

She looks at me with a strange expression on her face.

"I need to be somewhere," I say. "I have to leave."

"Um, okay," she says, her confusion apparent.

I leave without telling Kelly, the walls growing too thick for me to breathe and as I walk out underneath the night sky, the cold wind lashing at me, I break down into tears, crying for someone who never belonged to me.

I spend the rest of the night curled up in a corner of my bed, hiding from the rest of the world, ignoring the frequent calls from Kelly, futilely trying to read a book.

I try not to think of Hunter but he is the only thing on my mind and every time I think of him, my sobs grow harder and my heart clenches all the more.

I skip dinner and eventually fall asleep, into a sleep haunted by him, by us.

I wake up at three thirty in the night, hunger getting the better of me.

It takes me a while to leave behind the shadows of my disconcerted and discordant dreams: a few of a time forgotten, my eighteenth birthday, chasing Hunter through the water, the unexplained scar; and then ones from now: happy ones, those of our walks through the woods, our intangible intimacy and finally the ones that reduce me to tears: our kiss, the words exchanged, the heart rippling pain.

I fix myself a cup of coffee, fully aware of my less than ideal diet and as I sit alone on the couch, sipping the bitter liquid, warding off sleep, I hear someone knocking on my door.

It is four o'clock in the morning and I cannot think of anyone who would want to visit me now except-

Blonde hair plastered on his forehead, sweat coating his temples, eyes bloodshot, hands trembling as they wrap themselves around me, heart hammering so loud that I can feel it through our entwined bodies, lips quivering as they plant a desperate feverish kiss on my forehead, body shaking violently as it slumps against me, it finally registers in my mind.

Hunter Bradley is at my door.