Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.

A/N: …and here we go…. –A.

Give 'em Hell, Kid

jack's wasted life

Chapter Two

Good-Bye

"Feel myself, heavy on the ground

and I'm scared that I'm not coming down;

no, no.

And I won't run for my life.

She's got her jaws now locked down in a smile,

but nothing is all right…

alright."

-Third Eye Blind

"The sky was gold; it was rose; I was taking sips of it through my nose. And I wish I could get back there, someplace, back there; smiling in the pictures you would take…"

Do you ever have those dreams, where, in the background, a song is playing, as if to add theme to the fictional situation that plays through your conscience, behind your eyelids while you take a few hours out of the night to rest? And it always seems to be a song that you haven't heard within the last decade, a song that was never mentioned, or played recently that would somehow make sense out of its sudden trigger. Yet, nevertheless, it still plays, on repeat, too, all throughout your dream, adding meaning and movie-like quality. And it always seems to be just the right song, one that, if you were awake, you would have never considered, and anything you would have considered wouldn't stand a chance to being as perfect. Even still, sometimes the song is so perfect it'll go as far as to honor you with a sense of comfort.

Or sometimes it has the opposite effect.

The latter was how I felt when I woke up this morning. Comfort was a lost sense of feeling when my alarm went off. In fact, comfort was lost even before then. Comfort was lost through out the entire dream.

No, it wasn't comfort that I felt. Far from it, actually. It was a sense of sadness. A sense of longing.

You know how, sometimes, more often than not, you can never remember your dreams when you wake up? Yeah, I wasn't blessed with that gift, either. Not only was my dream on repeat all night, it seemed as if the imaginary repeat button were broken, and my sad movie was constantly rewinding and replaying all morning as well.

This was one of those dreams I was never going to forget. But what I found rather sick and masochistic, and even sadder yet, was that I didn't want to forget it.

"It hurts to hold on, but it's missed when it's gone." Jesse Lacey said that. And, though his situation was rather different from this, his theory still holds true.

And so, I held onto my dream, and my subconscious seemed to know that I should hold onto it, too, as it replayed the events voluntarily and willingly despite my protests, as if it were set on autopilot and in full control.

The sky was a mixture of gold and rose as the sun set, leaving shards of its reflection on the mountains across from it over to the east. We were all sitting on the park benches, laughing and joking without a care in the world. Miranda was on her skateboard with Tom sitting off to the side, yet somehow next to her. They were talking about tricks and what not. I was never into skating, so I never really paid attention.

Sean was running around with a set of keys in his hands. Mine, I was pretty sure. And I was chasing him. I watched myself chase him as he ran around the table, in between Miranda and Tom, over a small wooden sign, and back to the table, making a full circle. He laughed, I laughed, even Tom and Miranda laughed at his antics. We were all laughing, and I could hear Miranda shout, "Sean's not allowed to touch other people's things! How many times do we have to say that?!" Yet she laughed as she scolded him publically.

He turned toward me, the me that was chasing him, and made a funny face. One where his eyes would cross and his tongue would jut out of his mouth and lawl to the side.

I watched the entire scene play out and unfold as if it were a movie. I could see myself chase Sean around, begging and screaming and laughing for my keys back. Yet I could feel the park bench beneath me where I sat. It was odd. I felt like a stranger, eaves-dropping on someone else's private moments, yet I felt as though I were also clued into some inside joke.

The sun never really seemed to set, the sky stayed tinted, as time seemed to stop. The laughter rang melodically, as if in harmony to the song that played in time with everyone's actions.

And then the worst part came.

The part that made the dream so agonizing.

The part that lingered in your head, a few seconds too long, just so the pain could sink in further, and really do the damage that it had set out to do.

I swear, had I known my words would come back to haunt me, as they so intently plan on doing from this morning on, I would have never said them.

Sean stopped ahead of me, all of us watching, with my keys in hand. The laughter didn't falter, but it did fade to only background noise. A devilish smile played out on his lips, one that screamed mischief and made me back up a few steps to brace myself. I smiled a smile of mischief back, as if to let him know that I could take whatever he was ready to bring.

Suddenly, Sean charged the whole twenty-yard distance between us, making a direct path for me. I stood my ground, ready to faint left or right to slip by him. And I did, as soon as he was within reach. I fainted to my right, but spun myself around fast enough to grab the back of his shirt and stop him mid-sprint. When I assumed he was stable enough, I leaped onto his back, and his arms automatically went to my legs to support my weight. I wrapped my arms around his neck and laughed.

"Gotcha!" I giggled into his neck.

He laughed back. "That you did!"

"Keys please?" I asked him politely, keeping up the mocking tone of our humor.

"Not until you promise that you won't leave! Rules still stand, misses." He laughed at me as he began to jog and leap around with me on his back.

I shrieked lightly as he jumped on the bench and back down, acting as though I were in fear of him dropping me. But I knew he wouldn't. It was all apart of the game. I trusted him; he'd never dropped me before, he wouldn't drop me now.

"But I want something else!" I laughed with him as he began to skip around Tom and Miranda. "I need to get out of this place! Badly!"

"Aw, give her her keys, Sean!" Miranda came to my defense. "She's been talking about leaving for the past four years. Let her go! She'll come crawling back when she realizes how much she misses this place!"

"'Ain't no place like home!'" Tom quoted as he laughed along with Miranda.

I joined in with them, and Sean lowered me to the ground. He turned to face me with a face of defeat. He slipped his right hand into his pocket, dug around for a second, and pulled it back out; fingers clasped around my keys.

I held my hand out with smile of triumph split widely across my face.

He was hesitant for a moment.

"New York?" He asked, trying to mask his seriousness with a sense of jest.

"You can always come with me…" I replied back in a singsong manner.

He looked over his shoulder, out to the distance, toward the east at the mountains.

"I like Arizona very much, thank you." He answered back.

I shrugged. "Suit yourself, then. Keys." I reminded him, as I waved my fingers to show my impatience.

"Promise to visit at least?" He said as he raised the keys up above my hand, willing to drop them at the right answer.

"Of course! What a stupid question, Seanie!" I snatched my keys from his hands and followed up by gripping him around the waist with a tight hug. I buried my face in his chest and continued. "I may be leaving soon, but it's still not for a while. And you know I would never leave you guys. I would be back constantly to visit! You guys are all family, and I need my family!"

"The girl can give a speech!" Sean yelled after a moment, and he hugged me back just as tight and planted a small kiss on the top of my head.

"It's not 'good-bye!'" Miranda yelled over to us. "It's 'see you later!'"

And we all laughed.

God. What I would give for all of that to be true. It wasn't just a dream, but a memory locked tightly up in my mind for safekeeping. But who am I kidding? I'm not going home. As far as Charlie's concerned, this is home. Maybe when I graduate college I can go back, but by then, would it really be worth it? I wanted New York. I was destined for New York. NYU accepted my transfer application, and I was all ready to leave at the end of my semester in Phoenix. Why did Charlie have to mess all that up?

No.

Why did Phil have to mess all that up?

I reached around my crutches, which were strewn across the cab seat of my truck, and into my book bag. I grabbed a fresh pack of cigarettes out of the side pocket, and began to pack them against the dashboard. Three hits. That's all it took for a neatly packed stick. I tore off the wrappers and instinctively grabbed the first middle three sticks of tobacco, preparing to flip them over. I stopped half way.

Good Grades.

Good Fuck.

Good Luck.

Each stick was supposed to stand for one. Miranda taught me that.

I gently pushed them back in and instead only grabbed the single middle stick of tobacco and flipped in upside down. I pushed it back in its place, where it stood out amongst the rest.

Good Luck.

Lord knows I need it right about now.

I grabbed the stick next to my lucky and used my other hand to dig into my pants pocket for a lighter. I lit the end of the cigarette, and stuffed the box and lighter into the side pocket of book bag. I checked the time as I cracked the window to my truck.

The clock read 9:19am.

Just enough time for one cigarette before class started.

I'd been sitting in the college parking lot for some time now, watching cars pull in and back out. I had a pretty decent parking place. I was close enough where it wouldn't bother me to hobble on my crutches for too long. I grabbed a CD that I had stolen from Charlie this morning (who knew he listened to 90's rock?), and slipped in into the stereo. I read the back of the case as I switched it to song number three.

Suddenly drums and a guitar ripped through the speakers.

"Do do do, do do do-do, do do do, do do do-do…"

I really am masochistic, aren't I? I curled my good leg up to my chest onto the seat. I knew that if my left leg weren't broken, I'd currently be in the fetal position, probably rocking back and fourth as I smoked my cigarette.

I could feel my chest ache in pain, and not from a few bruised or broken ribs. It wasn't a sharp pain, but a dull one. A pain that could easily be mistaken for nausea, a pain that literally made you sick to your stomach. I knew why that pain was there, too. It was pain of loneliness. It was a pain brought on from homesickness. And it was so much stronger when my dreams were made reality with the song playing over the radio. Yet, I had no will to turn it off. Instead, I let the song play, listening to it's words with dire concentration, as if I were to be tested on it in just a few hours, and my whole existence depended on a passing grade.

The obvious words to the song called my attention.

"I'm not listening when you say, 'good-bye.'"

It reminded me of Miranda's words in the dream. "It's not 'good-bye,' it's 'see you later.'"

Then it hit me, that wasn't a dream I'd had last night. It had the qualifications of a nightmare. Dreams have happy endings. Nightmares obviously don't. What I had dreamt last night was nothing more than impossibility. It really was good-bye. I had just chosen not to listen until now.

I took one more drag of my cigarette, and noticed the time.

There was just enough left to allow me to limp to class before I would be deemed late. I took one last drag of the tobacco, and flipped the cigarette through the cracked window. I leaned over, gathered up my bag and crutches, and prepared to hobble away. But I stopped my motions in time to listen to the last of the lyrics to the song:

"I want something else to get me through this… life. Baby, I want something else… Not listening when you say 'Good-bye…' Good-bye. Good-bye. Good-bye!"

As the track ended, and I pulled my keys from the ignition, I thought to myself about what the song was saying. For someone who was concentrating so hard on the lyrics, I was missing the obvious meaning. Yes, the song was about drugs. But what do drugs do? Well, to the addicted, they help one get along with life in a more sedated and calm fashion.

My life was pretty bad right now… not that I want drugs; nicotine is bad enough. But couldn't I find something else that could work as a drug? Something else that could "get me through this life?"

Well, as old people tend to say, "there's no use in crying over spilt milk." Now's the time to prioritize and move on. I wouldn't be seeing my friends anytime soon… Alaska is farther away than one would think. But I could make the most of this desolate place. And the college is rather small… I'll stand out like a sore thumb with these damn crutches. So I'm bound to talk to someone.

Number one on my priority list: find something I enjoy here in fucking Alaska.

Okay, I realize now I have a bit of prejudice to the damn place. My bitterness will subside eventually though, right? Finding something nice here may take a while, but I'm sure it'll happen. Right? Right?!

I hobbled out of my truck and pulled the hood to my jacket up, and slipped on a pair of gloves that were stashed in my pocket. It was freezing outside, and after living in hot and dry Arizona for most of my life, cold and wet weren't exactly two things I was quite fond of. I hobbled towards the front entrance to the college, trying to remember exactly where Biological Anthropology was. I'm pretty sure it was building A, but I couldn't be too positive.

As I made my way to the entrance, a boy with sandy blonde hair held the door open for me.

"Thanks." I muttered as I passed him.

"No problem!" He answered too cheerfully. "Where you headed, I'll help you."

Well that was fast. Who knew Eskimos were so friendly?

"Um, Biological Anthropology." I answered him.

He smiled a huge smile, his blue eyes lighting up in doing so. "That's where I'm headed! Here," He said, as he made a move to grab my bag from my shoulder. "Let me carry that for you."

"Thanks." I mumbled again. I had never met anyone so helpful before. In Phoenix, most people ignored me. I guess the crutches scream "weak and helpless."

"Name's Mike." He said as he led me through the hall. "I take it you just transferred?"

"Yeah. I'm Bella." I answered him as I hopped behind the boy.

"Where'd you transfer from?"

"Um, Phoenix, Arizona."

"Ouch. There's a dramatic change. Well, I hope you like Alaska!" He smiled at me brightly one more time as he held the door to the class open, gesturing for me to continue through.

"Thanks." I hobbled in and noticed the entire lab was filled with students already. There was one chair open in the back, next to another male who was staring intently out the side window, watching snow fall. Mike scooted ahead of me and draped my bag across the back of the open seat.

"New lab partner, Cullen!" Mike said to the boy. But he didn't seem to hear him.

A/N: Dun dun dun. Yeah, I'm trying sorta to follow the Twilight plot line. We'll see how that goes. For now, it's working. Hope you guys don't mind the OOC of everything. One user left a review saying that Bella seemed more real. That's exactly what I was going for. Glad someone sees that:) Anyway… hit that green button, feel free to send your ideas for the plot. As a side note, anyone who's waiting on Déjà Entendu to continue, I apologize. I've been busy. Half of the next chapter is written, I just need to finish it. I'm slowly getting around to it. Either way, enjoy what's here! –A.

P.S. Sorry for any grammatical or spelling mistakes. It's late, I'm tired, and I can only catch so much. And yes, that was my disclaimer to any failures:)