Author's Note: I bet you thought I'd stay gone for at least a month or so, didn't you? Well, surprise surprise! I'm alive and kicking. =o) (#Innocent bystander: Ouch! Why did you kick me?#) Err…okay…R/E (Read and Enjoy).

Disclaimer: Okay…I'm about to tell you something shocking. I don't own So Weird. #People gasp; I let out a heartfelt sob# It's true. But it gets worse…I don't even make any money off of it. Can you believe that? Gosh Darn! #People look at me oddly; Me: What? I can say "Gosh Darn" if I want to# I guess I'll just have to let out my frustration on poor 'ol Carey. (Damn you Romance/Angst Muse, damn you!)

****Narrator's POV****

A heavenly creature is he who lies so peacefully now, in sleep; his form, so long and lean, is buried beneath the crumpled white sheets. But he doesn't mind. He is dreaming; such wonderful, lovely dreams he has…but they are only that: dreams. Can you guess who this is? No? Then I shall help you figure it out. He is quite handsome, this boy…unruly blonde hair, thick and soft, which seems to beg the observer to touch its gentle waves; soft, full lips, so pink and pouty, which seem to made to be kissed; a smooth, tan face, free of any blemish or flaw; long limbs; powerful frame; a clean-shaven and well-kept appearance; yes, he is no doubt a very attractive person. Do you recognize him now? No? Then I shall continue. Think about the boy who loved the girl next door. She's gone now. He's hurting. He loves her, for God's sake. Perhaps too much. Remember? Ah, recognition dawns at last. It is Carey Bell. Such a tormented soul. But now right now, he's sleeping. And he is peaceful. Would you like to know why? It's the dream; they have that power, you know. In dreams, everything is possible. Would you like to know what he's dreaming about? Yes, I thought you would. And so I'll show you. Being omnipotent has its perks, you know. So let's be on our way.

****Narrator's POV -- Dream Sequence****

            As Carey walked toward the figure in the distance, he could not repress the swell of excitement that surged within him. The atmosphere around them was non-existent; it consisted only of swirling clouds of murky gray fog that swelled and contracted and floated away as he walked towards the far-off form. He could tell, even from the distance he was at, that the form was quite petite and curvy. He also thought that he'd seen a hint of long hair as a particularly strong breeze came by and sent the gray clouds scattering. He hoped that it wasn't only his imagination.

            The figure began to slowly, seemingly hesitantly, walk towards him. "Carey?" he heard an inquisitive feminine voice ask. "Is that you?"

            "Fiona!" he yelled in excitement. He started to run towards her, and her smiled in excitement as he heard her laugh in joy and begin to run also. As she reached him, she launched herself into his arms. He happily embraced her, and flushed as he realized how good it felt to have her warm body pressed against his. He reluctantly released her after a few more precious moments, and sighed involuntarily as he looked at her, now safely back on the ground. After all this time, she still took his breath away. If anything, he thought to himself, she looks even more beautiful since last we met. Fiona smiled as she clasped his hands in her own small ones, and peered up at him through a long fringe of lashes.

            "I missed you so much, Carey!" she said a little more calmly, though with no less excitement.

            "I missed you too, Fi," he said warmly, a charming smile of pleasure gracing his lips. At this point, he could no longer resist giving her another hug. There's only so much temptation a man can take, as Carey knew. Just looking at her brought him to the edge of his resolve. He decided that this small gesture, at least, was acceptable.

            Apparently, so did Fi. More so, in fact. She brought her arms around his neck and buried her hands into his hair. Carey unthinkingly let his hands roam from where they were chastely placed on Fi's upper back, and soon found himself encircling her tiny waist, slowly pressing her body closer to his. He felt her lay her head on his chest, and he let his cheek come to rest on the top of her head, one hand coming up to caress her soft hair.

            "I must be dreaming…" he heard her softly whisper. He slowly lifted his head and cupped her face with his hands.

            "No," he said. "This has been my dream for quite a while," he whispered. And with that, he lowered his lips to hers.

****Carey's POV--Dream Sequence****

She tastes like Heaven, I think. Does Heaven even have a taste? I was never sure before this instant, but now I know. Yes, it does. It's a flavor called Fiona. I know, I know, I sound like an idiot, but, at this point, I really don't give a damn. This is a dream. This is a dream. But on a scale of 1 to 10 in the Great Dream scale, this rates a 103. I don't want to ever wake up.

"Fiona!"

What the Hell?

"Fi-on-a!"

Where did that voice come from?

"Wake up, dear,"

I open my eyes. Fiona is gone.

But in her place there is a rose.

There's blood on it.

****Fiona's POV****

My eyes snap open. I'm going to kill Aunt Melinda. I was having the best dream I've ever had in my life, and now the stark bleakness of reality is back as I have re-entered the conscious world. Damn! Reality sucks.

Ah, and here's Aunt Melinda now. "Dear, I just wanted to let you know that the girls and I will be at the store. Call me on my cell if you need anything, okay?"

"Sure," I answer. She gives me a quick peck on the check, and with that is out of my room and already calling for my cousins to hurry up, or else she'll leave without them.

Now, I love my Aunt Melinda to death, but I never like going grocery shopping even when I'm in a good mood, and I'm not exactly very chipper at the moment. Who would be, after being interrupted from a dream like the one I just had?

I can still remember everything in that dream. Each and every perfect detail is vividly depicted in my memory, a vibrant splash of color in an otherwise black-and-white world of mindless carrying-ons.

Life has been so dull, so dreary, since I left my old life. I miss the open road. I miss my family. But most of all, I miss him. Carey Bell.

Who would have thought? I never suspected that I'd fall for him. After all, why would I? Wasn't he just like another big brother to me? But now, as I look back, the only thing I wonder about is how I couldn't love him. Believe me, the love I have for him is not sisterly affection. It's anything but. I'm talking about the Romeo and Juliet kind of love; the passionate, pure, undiluted, heart-stoppingly intense kind of love that's a combination of all you see in those flimsy romance novels, dignified legends, quaint little fairy tales, and so on and so forth. When I envision Prince Charming, I don't go for the whole Knight-in-shining-armor-riding-in-on-a-black-stallion-with-a-stylishly-arranged-mane kind of Prince. When I think about Prince Charming, I envision Carey. It's always been that way. I remember a time when I was eight when my mom, dad, Irene, and Ned had all gone out to a restaurant and left the then-twelve-year-old Carey at our house to babysit Jack, Clu, and me. Jack and Clu were busy playing video games (as always), and that left Carey with only me to contend with. Now, most twelve-year-old boys will balk at the thought of actually babysitting an eight-year-old girl when they could be playing video games and eating junk food with their two best friends, but Carey didn't. He could have left me in my room all alone to entertain myself with my toys and books, but he didn't. Instead, he stayed with me and we spent the night playing Go-Fish, watching T.V., having pillow fights, and eating lots of junk food. We even got Clu and Jack to join into our festivities. We all had a blast. Later, at bedtime, I insisted that Carey read me a bedtime story. It was some silly little nonsense story with no real plot to speak of, save that the Princess and the Prince eventually met at a ball and fell madly in love, got married, and lived happily ever after. On the last page, the book had an illustration of the Princess and her Prince Charming holding hands and smiling brightly at the world outside their page. It was this picture, I recall, that I found objectionable. "No," I'd said with a grimace. "That's all wrong," I'd continued, certain of my superior knowledge of all things royal.

"What's all wrong?" Carey had asked, amused.

"The picture," I'd said, giving him a look that must have screamed "Duh."

"What's wrong with the picture?" he'd asked, now puzzled. He'd looked more closely at the picture then, no doubt intending to find some small flaw in the ink or some such thing for me to object to.

"Well," I'd begun, pausing for a moment to build up the suspense. "She shouldn't be blonde. Princesses should have brown hair, like me," I'd said, tossing my hair over my shoulder in a superior manner.

"Oh really?" he'd asked, smiling.

"Yup," I'd affirmed.

"Anything else wrong with the picture, Your Highness?" he'd inquired in mock seriousness.

"Yes," I'd said. "The Prince is the one who should have blonde hair. He should look like you."

"Why's that?" he'd inquired, genuinely puzzled.

"Because," I'd said, thoroughly exasperated with his ignorance in the matter of proper fairy tales, "if he had dark hair, he'd look like Jack, and that's gross. But if he had blonde hair, he'd look more like you and Clu, and you're cooler. So Prince Charming has to look like you. Understand?"

"Understood," he'd affirmed.

I now believe I was wise beyond my years. He's still my Prince Charming. If only I could tell him…

Author's Note: #I laugh gleefully and do a little jig… hey, I didn't even know that I knew a jig…# Well that was a whole bunch of sap, ne? Oh well, you know you love it. Right? Err…right. Well, in the words of the terminator, "I'll be back." Adios, ciao, and goodbye (for now)! =o)