So the momentum didn't keep. Life sucks guys. Everything is so hectic right now. I graduate high school in two weeks, I just turned 18, I'm getting ready to start college and this poor fic got caught up in the flurry of all the things I'm procrastinating doing. It's like 4:30am right now and I literally don't know what I'm even typing now, haha.

This chapter was almost 2800 words long, so I cut it in half. This is the first half, and I'll put out the second half later this week. You guys are guaranteed another update, and soon! Woo!

CHAPTER STATS

Word Count (excluding A/N): 1604

Date Updated: 5-12-13

Current Review Count: 721

"Gray—where are you?!"

The blacksmith turned his attention to his wife, who had just burst into the lobby of the Inn. He sighed and rolled his eyes. "What is it now, Claire?"

"Gray," she panted, running over to him. "I just—met Vaughn."

"Vaughn? Who's—" He tensed, realization dawning on him. "Chelsea's friend?"

Claire nodded fervently, leaning forward to catch her breath.

"What did he say? Where is he? Is Chelsea—?"

"No, no," Claire cut him off, shaking her head. She sat up straight, regaining her composure. "I don't know where she is—I didn't even know it was him until he was on his boat and sailing away."

"Claire," Gray frowned. A million thoughts raced through his head—was Vaughn a shady guy? Was he a liar? Was he the kind of guy his daughter should be hanging around? He blinked, organizing his thoughts. "What happened, Claire?"

Claire told him all about the encounter on the beach, remembering the entire conversation verbatim. "And then he nodded. She's alright, Gray. She's alright."

Gray tried to sift through all this information, but one thing glared out at him above everything else. "He knew all along who you were, didn't he?"

"Vaughn?" Claire asked, confused at her husband's response. "I don't know, but I'd assume so…"

"Why did he play dumb?" Gray asked, gritting his teeth. "He knows where she is. He knows what we're going through. Why didn't he tell us? The bastard."

"Gray," Claire pursed her lips, giving him a stern look. "Think about it. He and Chelsea are close—if Chelsea hasn't told us where she is herself, then she doesn't want us to know. He probably knows that."

"Doesn't he have any respect for us, her parents?" Gray muttered, scowling.

Claire placed her hand on his arm. "He has respect for her and her wishes, and quite frankly, I'm almost glad that he didn't tell us where she is since it would be blatantly breaking her trust. I mean, I'm not glad, but I almost am."

Gray let out one hollow laugh. "You do have a point, I guess… but still, I don't like him."

"What? Why not?" Claire raised her eyebrows. "Is it just because she has a thing for him? Because it's totally fine if it is, Gray. You've always been overprotective of her."

"What?" Gray scoffed, turning pink. "No—and what do you mean, 'she has a thing for him'? Chelsea would never—"

"Mhmm," Claire rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "Sure, Chelsea would never fall for a guy like him, right?"

"Of course she wouldn't."

"Or do you just not want her with anyone like him?" Claire teased, her face pulled up into a smirk.

"He seems insensitive and rough. Chelsea couldn't want to be with a guy like him," Gray mumbled, almost to himself.

Claire laughed. "Just like I couldn't want to be with a guy like you?"

Gray frowned down at her.

She smiled up at him and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"I just hope we see her again soon," he sighed, rolling his eyes at his silly wife and her silly, sound logic.

Ooo

Chelsea finished watering the last of her newly-planted tomatoes. She only had a few meager plots down, but she was thankful for them—Chen had insisted she take the seeds as a gift. As much as she hated taking handouts, she knew that she had no other options at this point.

She straightened out her back and looked across her weed-wrought field. It looked almost the same way it did when she washed up on this island almost a year ago.

It was the beginning of summer, the same season she'd run away in. She closed her eyes, inhaled the warm breeze, and felt the sun beat down on her head. It warmed her hair through her bandana. She felt like she was back on her mom's farm, standing in the plots of corn and tomatoes and cucumbers, hearing the buzz of the bees in the tree and the rippling of the grass in the wind.

As the breeze died down, she opened her eyes and saw reality again.

Chelsea blinked several times, readjusting. This was her farm, not her mom's. She was here, not there. As much as she missed Mineral Town, this farm was her home—it was where she belonged.

She just wished she'd made some progress instead of coming full circle.

Once more, she looked out over the debris that covered her farm. Then, she put her watering can away and reached down to the nearest weed, yanking it out of the ground.

By the time the sun was making its way down the horizon, Chelsea still hadn't left her field. She'd been weeding and chopping branches and moving rocks all day in the heat, but she had to work even harder than she'd been working before.

She tore her axe out of the tree trunk she'd been working on for the last half hour. Slouching down in exhaustion, she wiped at the sweat pooling on her face.

"I can do this," she muttered to herself. "I can do this."

Then, with a grunt, she forced the axe back into the wood and tried to pull it out again. Her arms felt like noodles, but she kept ripping at the stump—the axe wasn't coming out, no matter how hard she tugged on it. She gripped it with both of her hands and yanked, but it wouldn't budge. She huffed and grunted and gave it every ounce of strength she had, but it was stuck.

She let go of the handle and fell back onto the dusty ground. She took a deep breath and glared at the axe angrily. All of the frustration she'd been trying to hold back from the realization of her wasted year was coming out. What was she doing here? Who was she kidding, really? She couldn't even get an axe out of a stump, or have one successful harvest, or keep her one animal alive.

She blinked and felt a tear mingle with the sweat and dirt on her face.

"No," she growled, wiping furiously at her eyes. "No, no, no! No more crying!"

"Chels?"

Her entire body tensed and she let out a curse in her surprise. She turned to see who was standing behind her—who had probably witnessed her little exhibition of pathetic failure.

"Sorry, Jules," she sighed, pulling herself up even though her legs were screaming in protest. "I was—I was just—"

"Chelsea," Julia interrupted her, shaking her head. "You're working too hard."

"What?" Chelsea asked, almost laughing at the blonde. "Too hard? Julia, I'm not working hard enough."

Julia looked at her friend with raw concern. She was covered head to toe in dirt, her skin was bruised and scraped from the rocky ground, her hands blistered and red from chopping wood for Goddess knows how long. She looked like she hadn't been getting nearly enough sleep at night and Julia knew that she'd only been eating what Mirabelle had been sending over, which was one good meal a day—certainly not enough to fuel this kind of work.

Chelsea looked like she'd run herself ragged, and she thought that she wasn't doing enough?

"Chelsea," Julia shook her head, stepping closer to the farmer. "You should go easier on yourself."

"How can I, Jules?" Chelsea inhaled sharply, turning away from the blonde and towards the rest of the farm. "Look at this place. Look at it! It's exactly how it was a year ago when I first got here, only now I have absolutely nothing. Chen gave me these seeds. I have to pay him back—I'm in debt now. Julia, I have negative money."

"Chelsea—"

"It's been a whole year and I have absolutely nothing to show for it."

"That's not true," Julia said firmly.

Chelsea looked back at her skeptically, waiting for elaboration.

"Chelsea, you may not have money, or prestige, or even an especially successful farm. But do you know what you do have?" Julia didn't wait for a reply. "You have me. You have my mom. You have Denny, and Lanna, and Chen and Charlie and Felicia and everyone who lives on this island. And you also have Vaughn, Chelsea. Think about him. If you hadn't been here, he'd still be the same old grumpy, life-hating person he was a year ago.

"So no, you don't have nothing to show for your year here. You have friends. You have us—and you have him."

Chelsea stood there, staring blankly at her friend as her brain processed everything she'd just been told. Her impact wasn't made on the farm. That was what she'd been expecting. Instead, it was made on other people—especially on Vaughn. She hadn't made crops grow as much as she'd made him grow. How could she discount him and Julia and all her other friends?

Her face felt hot and she blinked back tears—tears of shame. "Julia—you're right. I'm… I'm so sorry."

"Sorry?" Julia scoffed and shook her head. "Don't be sorry. Just keep your chin up. If nothing else, remember—you have us."

Chelsea nodded and smiled slightly, sniffling a little. "Thanks, Jules."

"No problem, Chels," Julia smiled, pulling the dirty farmer into a tight hug. "Now, go clean up. It's Wednesday—remember?"

"What? No—it's Tuesday, isn't it—?" Chelsea pulled away, realization dawning on her. She sprinted down the path towards the beach.

"Chelsea! Wait!" Julia called after her. "You're filthy!"

And there we have it! A longer, angsty chapter for you guys. I don't mean to sound like a teenager, but God, is angst such a thing now. This chapter wasn't going to be this... heavy, but hey, the fingers type what the body feels. You guys will like the next chapter a lot, I think. Or actually, maybe you won't. It depends. If I were one of you, I'd like it, but that's just me. Find out in a week(ish)! Thanks for reviewing, guys. It brings sunshine to my days.