Author's Note: I've never read the book "Bridge to Terabithia," so this is entirely movie based. I didn't exactly love the movie, but it made me cry and that's enough to deserve a fanfic. I also really adore the characters, and I'd like to see Jess and Leslie get a happy ending. At most, this fanfic should be twenty chapters. It's nice to write a fic for a fantasy story again, as it lets me stretch my writing muscles into realms outside of anime fandom (which I really need a break from). I hope Terabithia fans will enjoy this! I really loved writing it!

P.S. I have always wanted to start a fanfic with a cliché. Finally, my dream is realized! No pun intended. Yes, this story is perhaps not the most original of concepts. Yes, I'm perfectly okay with that. I'm way too strung out on stress to weave intricate plotwebs, so you'll have to forgive me.

Don't expect fluid updates. My readers will know this of me, and my new ones ought to too. It's summer, so it will come in bouts and spurts.

A big thank you hug to: All of my readers and my awesome beta!

Disclaimer: I do not own "Bridge to Terabithia," nor any of its respective characters, settings, etc. This applies to all current and upcoming chapters.

Chapter One:
Just Like Christmas

Jesse Aarons was confused. All around him towered trees: oaks, pines, even the odd sequoia. Twigs crunched beneath his feet, which seemed to be moving by a will of their own. With perplexed wonderment he stepped into Terabithia, morning sunlight peeking through the foliage and splashing onto his face.

He breathed in. The air was heavy, but not stifling. Thin fog wove around the boles of trees, like a curtain of gossamer lace. Cool freshness clung to his nostrils, a dewdrop tumbling from above and splattering onto his nose. He blinked and wiped it off with his sleeve. The crackle of leaves under his heels seemed to echo in the forest's silence, spurred on and swallowed by the mist. All of it felt eerie and surreal, the way Terabithia had felt since Leslie's death.

A jingle rang, permeating the thick air and tickling his ears. He turned, the tune bouncing off the tree trunks and back at him. It sounded muffled and tinny, as if from a different plane of existence all together. Familiarity nagged at his brain, and finally Jess remembered. "Those are the prisoners of the Dark Masters, rattling their chains!"

A cold shiver crawled up Jess's spine, his nerves suddenly on end. Years ago he had ripped those stupid wind chimes from the dashboard mirror and flung them into the bush. He remembered it clearly, the days of his breakdown. Those damn chimes ought to be rusting away in a rabbit hole, not singing in the breeze. Thinking on that, Jess realized what made the situation even stranger: there was no breeze. There was no rustling of leaves, no whistle as the wind swept through the trees. Aside from the metallic soprano of the chimes, everything was stagnant.

Something was off. Terabithia was eerier than ever before. Jess wondered if that was even where he was. Everything looked like his and Leslie's imaginary kingdom, but the feeling was horribly missing the mark. Jess's heartbeat pounded in his ears, and he turned to run. But just as he moved, the chiming stopped. Silence resumed, listlessly hanging in the air, clawing at him for perch.

And then another sound, different than the hollow chimes. It was merry, full of life. Jess inhaled sharply, recognizing the noise. It was laughter. It was Leslie's laughter.

"Leslie?" he called, voice contrasting the quiet and the distant giggling. "Are you there?"

The laughter came closer, ebbing just out of reach. It grew louder, but never loud. Just nearing him, taunting him forward. He found himself spinning in circles, eyes searching wildly for that shock of blond hair. "Leslie?"

"Come on," a playful voice teased, lost somewhere in the trees. It was unmistakable now.

"Leslie!" Jess ran towards the voice, mute to the snapping of earth beneath him. She was here, in Terabithia. Not like she had been years ago, when her voice was really May Belle, stuck on the log. This was Leslie, and there were no two ways about it.

"Come on, Jess!"

Jess continued forward, running as fast as his legs could carry him. He was the fastest kid in school - the second fastest in Terabithia - but it didn't seem to be enough. Everywhere he ran, he was just shy of her voice. He felt like he was drowning in quicksand, scratching at the surface only to sink farther in.

"Wake up!"

He found himself panting, stumbling over roots and branches. Where the hell was she? He wanted to stop to catch his breath, to quell the pain of sore muscles, but trudged on. If he stopped now, would he lose her again?

"Wake up!"

"I am awake!" he called to the forest, hoping that his voice reached hers. How far was she? Was she even in Terabithia? Or was she somewhere in the eternal jungle that stretched beyond?

"Wake up, Jess!"

"Where are you?" He wound around trunks, ducking under leaves and crashing through bushes. The forest never got thicker or thinner, and he could only barely see where he was going. The fog was intensifying, cloaking the greenery in a rich creamy white. Now he had no idea where he was, whether he was about to tumble into the creek or if he was just going in circles. Leslie's laughter teased him, constantly drawing him forward.

"Wake up!"

Jess felt like his knees were going to snap. Then another sound bubbled through the laughter – splashing. He stopped and looked down, water soaking into his running shoes. His… pink running shoes? He hadn't worn those since he was eleven. "What the - ?"

"Wrong way."

He looked up, the mist thinner here. He was feet away from the creek, and it was flooding. It was flowing over the edges, swirling onto Terabithian ground. Panic set over him. He had to get home. He'd be safe there. But… where was the bridge? He searched on the opposite bank, but the bridge was gone. Instead there stood the tree, the rope dangling precariously over the middle of the swelling water. What was going on?

"Wake up, Jess."

He broke into a run, heading headfirst back into the forest. "Leslie, we have to get out! The creek's flooding!"

Her voice was fading, her vibrant yell now reduced to a whisper. "Wake up."

"Leslie! We have to go! Now!"

"Wake up."

"Leslie!"

"Wake up…"

"LESLIE!"

"Wake up, sleepyhead!" May Belle's voice drummed into Jess's head until his eyes opened, droopy and tired.

"May Belle?" he asked, running a weary hand over his face. He looked down at himself, sprawled across his bed in his pajamas. Now what was going on?

"Dad's gonna be mad if you're not downstairs to do your chores in five minutes," his sister warned. "Why were you sleeping in?"

Jess's eyes traveled to his alarm clock, flying wide. "Damn!" He sprung out of bed, shooing his sister out of his half of the room. "Go away!"

May Belle laughed, halfway out the door. "It's what you get for sleeping in!" she said, disappearing down the hall.

Clumsily removing his pajamas, Jess shoved himself into a shirt and jeans. Nearly collapsing into the hallway, he ran downstairs in a blur, his dream the last thing on his mind.

Jess sat sullenly through last block, tuning out Mr. Humphrey's incessant droning. He couldn't care less about eukaryotic cells and intracellular digestion at the moment. He couldn't concentrate in English, Math or Chemistry either, but that was for a different reason – he had missed breakfast, and hunger took precedence over subjunctive clauses.

For the first time that day, he could finally focus on what was important – his dream. By two o'clock, he only remembered bits and pieces, but he knew enough of what had happened. It ran through his mind like a film reel: the disturbingly still air of Terabithia, the wind chimes, Leslie's voice, and then lots of running. The last thing that came to mind was the flooding creek, and the bridge having disappeared. But it didn't make sense to it like that, "disappeared." In his dream, it was as if it had simply never been there at all.

It had been a year since he'd dreamt about Leslie. Even then, it wasn't a dream like last night's. It wasn't a nightmare. Most times his dreams were merely memories of the short time they'd spent together. The first time they swung across the creek, or when he grabbed her from Janice Avery's seat on the bus. Even the time she sat on the log, waiting to greet him as he walked home, with ketchup smeared on her face. He remembered thinking for a moment that it was blood, and his heart skipped beat.

Of course that was nothing like the day she died. His heart stopped beating entirely.

In the end, Jess chalked it up to repressed grief floating to the surface ("like tiny jellyfish," Leslie would have said). After all, the anniversary of her death was little more than a month away. Things always got slightly iffy at this time of year. He didn't do well on tests, and his chores were carried out half-heartedly. He couldn't even draw in the week before, which had always been his coping mechanism. His family understood though, and respected it. His high school teachers didn't bother asking questions, probably assuming that it was "just one of those phases." Jess supposed they never realized that he went through "one of those phases" every year at the exact same time. It was like the twelve days of Christmas, only instead of presents from a big fat man, you got your best friend's death.

Jess shook his head. Bad analogy. It was always better to leave the writing stuff to Leslie.

The bell rang, a shrill sound that struck him like a whip. Wordlessly, he shut his book on the sketch he'd been working on that class (rather than finding out the characteristics of life). Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he followed the line of students filing out of the classroom. To his chagrin, he was last, tailing the rowdy queue.

He was just about to leave when Mr. Humphrey's pudgy hand clasped over his shoulder. "Jesse?"

Jess turned, trying to hide his look of I-Just-Want-to-Go-Home-and-No-I-Really-Don't-Care-Why-Decomposition-is-Important-Today. "Yes?"

"Which kingdom is composed exclusively of prokaryotes?"

Jess blinked and said nothing, racking his brain for the few moments he had actually been listening. "Uh… cats?"

Mr. Humphrey looked at him sternly over the frames of his glasses. "You were zoning out for a while there. Try to stay alert, all right? I'd hate to see you falling behind in my class."

Jess nodded. "Sure thing."

Mr. Humphrey waved him off, adjusting his spectacles. "And it's bacteria, Jesse."

"Right," Jess muttered over his shoulder. "Bacteria, got it."

The bus ride home was as dull as usual. It took forty-five minutes to get from the city to the country, and it seemed even longer without Janice sitting beside him. After Leslie's death, Jess and Janice had somehow become friends. She was the one that finally got Scott Hoager to quit picking on him – and nearly got expelled in the process. But she had graduated years back, though Jess still saw her working with his dad at the hardware store that their family now owned. She came over for dinner every once in a while, but Jess didn't see her as often as he'd like to.

The bus lurched to a stop and Jess stood, shuffling through the rows of younger kids. At seventeen, he often got teased for still taking the bus. Though he had his license, his family only owned one vehicle. His father was out most days with the truck, but public transportation never bothered Jess. It was better for the environment, and if he really needed to be somewhere, he could always call Miss Edmonds. She was Jess's other friend, and luckily he had outgrown his crush long ago. Now she was just a companion, someone who seemed to know a lot more about the world than he did.

He stepped off the bus and onto the gravel road, staring down the car-cut path. The bus's wheels squealed as it drove away, a crunchy cacophony of rocks under rubber. When the noise faded into the distance, Jess found himself standing in the same place, eyes fixed on the path to Terabithia. His dream poked into his mind again, Leslie's voice fresh in his ears.

Tightening his grip around his backpack, Jess shrugged and began walking home. "Quit getting weirded out," he muttered to himself. "It's just a dream." He continued on, not sparing a glance back at Terabithia, or at the Burkes' old place.

He shuffled into the house, kicking off his shoes and dropping his backpack by the door. He was exhausted. He felt like he hadn't slept all night, and had spent all his conscious hours worrying about hunger or about his dream. At the moment, he just wanted to run upstairs and curl into his covers, wishing for an empty sleep. Maybe he would wake up in a couple hours and go for a run to clear his mind of all this Terabithia business.

"Hey, Jess," May Belle called from the kitchen. He walked in, seeing her frying up a grilled cheese sandwich. His stomach growled again, apparently not sated by the cafeteria salad he'd had at lunch.

"Hey," he replied. "You got any more of those?"

May Belle stuck out her tongue. "Nope. You want one, you gotta make it yourself!"

Jess groaned and shook his head. She was still the annoying little sister she'd always been. "No, thanks," he said. He felt ready to collapse right there on the dinner table – he was certainly not going to lean over a hot burner.

May Belle shrugged, switching the oven off and flipping the sandwich onto a plate. "Suit yourself." Taking a bite, she leaned against the counter and regarded him quizzically. "You look dead tired."

Jess ran a hand through his hair, unsure of what to say. "Didn't get much sleep last night."

"Nightmares?"

He plucked the sandwich from her hand, ignoring her protests, and took a bite. Handing it back to her, he said, "I guess you could say that."

"Don't talk with your mouth open," she reprimanded hypocritically. Then she asked, "Were they, you know, about… ?"

"No," Jess said. His reply surprised even him, but the lie had rolled off his tongue – tumbling between bread crumbs and melted cheese – before he'd even thought about it. Either way, it was probably for the best. He didn't want to worry May Belle, and he especially didn't want her to go tattling to his mom and dad. May Belle was exceptionally good at tattling.

"If you say so." Finishing off her sandwich, May Belle rinsed her plate and slid it into the dishwasher. "You should take a nap. I'll take over your chores if you want."

"Seriously?" Jess asked, incredulous. For May Belle to do him a favor like that, he must have looked worse than he thought. Still, he was glad she wasn't taking after Ellie and Brenda, who were glued to the TV until the moment they moved out. May Belle barely even glanced at the thing, instead spending her time helping their mom out or drawing. In fact, he realized she was starting to take after him. He didn't know if that came more as a comfort or a horror.

"Sure," she said. "Nothing else to do."

"No homework?"

She shook her head. "Unlike you, I do my work in class."

Jess rolled his eyes. That was May Belle: charitable for a day, obnoxious for a decade. "Thanks, May Belle," he said simply, granting her a short wave and heading up the stairs.

"Anytime," she replied, though he doubted the truth in that.

Walking into his room, Jess couldn't remember the last time he was so relieved at the sight of his bed. Practically ripping off his sweater, he threw himself onto the mattress and tugged his blanket over himself, breathing in the scent of freshly laundered linen. For a moment he thought about Leslie, wondering if she were lurking somewhere beneath his pillow, ready to jump into his dream again. But before he had time to worry, his eyes drifted shut, and he fell immediately into a dreamless, heavy slumber.