Author's Note: The end draws nearer. Thank you to all the reviewers, you guys rock! The song is "Somewhere" from West Side Story.
And I still own nothing. Sucks.

After her encounter with Ryan, Theresa decided to get out of the Newport as soon as possible. Dressed in comfy sweatpants, a sports bra and her faded denim jacket, she slung her purple backpack over her shoulder and slowly began to push her suitcase out of the Cohen's garage. She tugged at the monstrous black suitcase that Eva had bought her on the day she decided to return to Chino. Inside were the meager possessions she brought from her home mixed along with the many new clothes and trinkets that she collected from acquaintances in Atlanta.

In Atlanta, she spent most of her time alone, miserable. But as she threw herself into physical therapy and work, she realized that there was life outside Ryan Atwood. Somewhere in the second week after her run-in with Damon, she realized that. She was halfway through creating a menu cover on Photoshop with her neighbor's computer, when she looked up at a clock and didn't think of Ryan. For once, everything didn't go back to him. For once, he wasn't near her or on the phone with her or in her thoughts or singing to her in her dreams. For once, she was completely and utterly without Ryan- and it felt like shit.

That was when she started planning her return trip. That was when she decided she needed to go back. So that even if she couldn't be his girlfriend, she would still be near him, near memories of him, near places they once went together. So she could have all of that back. So she could be whole.

And now, she was leaving this house, his house, to go back to where their whole story began. To where visiting Newport was a fantasy and living there, a dream.

"Hey kid, where you headed?" the voice was soft and gentle, the tone Theresa was accustomed to hearing from Kirsten, but this voice was male. Her eyes tilted upwards, it was a mess of dark hair, an untied tie, a beer bottle in a large hand and unruly eyebrows.

"Hi Mr. Cohen," she forced herself to smile. "I figured that it was late and I've got to get back to Chino." She shocked herself with the smoothness of which the lie came out. Well, it wasn't a complete lie. Yes, it was clearly late. Yes, she needed to get back to Chino. But she just wanted to leave the Cohen house with her dignity still in tact. She feared that staying there would start another chapter of the already dysfunctional Ryan and Theresa story.

"Theresa, it's much too late for you to be driving all the-"

"I've got enough money for a cab." She interrupted softly.

"A cab?!" The way Sandy said those words, its as if he had grown up in Newport rather than the Bronx. "No, no, it could be dangerous and I don't want you risking that. Go on back inside and I tell Kirsten to set up the guest bedroom."

"No, Mr. Cohen, I really-"

"No, you're staying." It was his turn to politely interrupt, if there was such a thing. "And call me Sandy."

"Thanks, Sandy." She smiled meekly. "You and Kirsten have done too much for me already."

"No such thing as too much, kid," he laughed. "And besides, its our way of paying you back for that beautiful performance you graced us with tonight." For a split second, Theresa had no idea what he was talking about. Then she floated back to before the crying, before the bathroom and on stage in front of Newport society.

"I did West Side Story when I was thirteen. And it was always my favorite production." Her eyes sparkled as she remembered the rush of being on stage, of being Maria. "Ryan, he always hated that one the most. He was too little to get a lead role." She suppressed a light giggle. "But it was my favorite. I loved it."

"It's a great show," Sandy shared her smile. "Can't beat dancing gangs." Theresa raised an eyebrow at the word gang. Sandy wanted to hit himself, he should have known better than to joke about something like that with a girl of that background. Apologetically he offered to help bring Theresa's suitcase into the house and willingly, she complied.

XXX

"I wonder why they aren't speaking." Kirsten's voice was genuinely worried as she left the guest bedroom and headed back to her own. She was thinking out loud to herself and didn't expect a response at all. Yet, she could feel the presence of another person in the hallway.

"Just give them time, Mom." His voice was warm and yet came with the sentiment that Seth was merely stating the obvious.

"They've been on separate coasts for over a month!" she replied defensively.

"They'll come around." He spoke in a very matter-of-fact tone. It was starting to make Kirsten wonder, was this really her meek talkative bubbly Seth?

"Why aren't you worried?!"

"Because," he said dramatically as Kirsten smirked noticing the return of her son's personality. "Love figures itself out."

And before Kirsten could even raise an eyebrow, Seth disappeared into his room. Odd as he may be, that boy could definitely be sage like at times. Maybe he was picking it up from his women? Kirsten's eyebrow stayed put, but the corners of her lip raised into a smile.

XXX

He couldn't seem to focus on any one task. There were four buttons undone from his shirt. His shoes and socks lay all across the floor, far from their usual home beneath his desk. The toothbrush was naked on the counter, wondering why he was there without any toothpaste on. The rest of his pack of cigarettes was in the trashcan. And the iPod was playing music that no one could hear.

Needless to say, Ryan didn't quite know what to do with himself.

At the moment he was considering heading to a bar. If he was lucky the alcohol would affect him badly enough to stomp out the image of Theresa's face from his mind. He had thought about drinking her image away many times for the past month, but he never did. That was because despite the painful longing he felt every time he thought of her smiling face, he was happy just to be able to see her face. Even if it was just in his mind.

Now, when she was so closeby, her image haunted him. All he could see each time he blinked or let his mind wander for mere seconds was her face, frightened and rejecting.

He wanted to hit himself. Had he absolutely no self control? Each time he envisioned her return, which had been every night and spare moment over the past month, he saw something special, romantic. He heard the song that she had sung on stage.

There's a place for us

They would lock hands, the comfortable gesture they had mastered years and years ago. They would speak in soft voices and Ryan would finally be able to confess that he felt. Theresa teased him mercilessly on days when his face cracked for no emotion. "You don't feel, do you?" He would tell her everything he felt. The hurt that overcame him when she left. The anger he felt when he saw her in the hospital bed. The lonliness when she was so far away.

Somewhere a place for us

He envisioned the two of them discussing a future. That part was still hazy, because matters of reality were always the most blurred in his mind. Imagination took hold of fantasy and dreams. Reality distorted what he wanted, what he knew he needed. He would move back to Chino for her, he had done it before. Though there was no baby now, he had a greater reason to go. He loved her.

Peace and quiet and open air

Ryan knew it didn't matter where they lived, as long as they were together. Yeah right. He knew he was lying to himself with that statement, because there was more than a world of difference from living in Chino than living in Newport. There were similarities in everything, nice houses, broken houses, people were still the same. Everyone was in your business and there was jealousy and vengeance and finacial troubles. But in Newport, the same way as in Chino, Theresa managed to make him forget the greater problems. When they touched, her head leaning upon his chest, he was somewhere beautiful.

Wait for us

He wondered what she was doing now. Whether or not she would come back was a mystery, unlike her. Theresa was stable, dependent, constant. Everything that Ryan couldn't be for her. And everything he had just jeopordized and probably lost. That's what you get when you think with the wrong head. He couldn't chase after her, because even with the tremendous love that echoed in the bones and soul of his being he was still scared. Could they still make it together? He knew he would have to wait and see. And it was this part he hated the most.

Somewhere.

He sat on his bed and stared blankly towards the windows in front of him. Beyond the thin panes of glass, he saw darkness. Darkness, how fitting it was for it to surround him in a situation like this. It was everything he didn't want. He wanted light. He wanted peace. He wanted Theresa.

We'll find a new way of living

He closed his eyes yet again, and this time welcomed her face. Concentrating hard, he floated back into memories. He was with her, hands locked together on the small of her back. Her head leaned back. Laughter tumbling from her lips. And he realized, it wasn't a memory. They were somewhere unknown, a beach somewhere. The sunlight dancing on their faces, quiet waves splashing in the background. Him and her. Together. Somewhere, future or past, he wasn't sure, but they were happy. And that was all that mattered.

Will find there's a way of forgiving

Opening his eyes again, he entered reality again. The hazed, crazed life he called reality. But something seemed different, there was a stillness of the black sky. The quiet before a storm. And almost as if he knew there would be a knock, he stood and openend the door, wondering what stood in the darkness. Facing a mess or dark hair and large, beautiful, wondering eyes. He wasn't sure but he could swear, that the moment they locked eyes the darkness around them started to fade.

Somewhere.

"Theresa." It was one word. And in it were all of Ryan's hopes. It was over a decade of memories. Kisses stolen behind the school. Hugs of reassurance. Phone calls out of boredom. Innocent sleep overs. Band aids on his cuts. Packs of frozen peas on his black eyes. Escorting one another to school dances. Not-so-innocent sleep overs. A child. It was the light in his darkness. It was love.