The stuff that'sbold areflashbacks. :)) The song in italics is My Immortal. (Even though it's not as cool as Mindy Smith's One Moment More.)

Chapter three: Atavism

A lot can happen in two years. People change, people grow, regardless of whether or not you're around. I took careful note of this as I sat, once again, at the Ackerman's dinner table, trying not to smile atSleepy, who's ever-lingering gaze towards Gina's direction left him goofy-eyed and paralyzed, his fork hanging mid-air whenever she contributed to a conversation.

Orat my mother, now in her 4th month of pregnancy (scary, I know), who gazed lovingly in Chris' direction, a secret smile dancing upon her face.

We were acting like nothing had changed, but of course, everything had.

When I left Carmel, I didn't consider what I would miss out on back home. I never really thought about how I would react to coming back to this place, partly because, well, after all that happened, I didn't plan on coming back.

I left Carmel, the Mission, my family, home, for one reason and one reason only: Jesse.

And that reason was still there, lingering in the back of my mind, hidden in that little box where I kept all my secrets, all the memories I tried to leave behind.

That box has not been opened in over two years, and here I was, letting the contents seep through again.

I had to shut it. Close it, before it was too late. Before a recollection of all that's happened crept back into my head. Before I let them lead me back down memory lane.

No, I told myself, don't you dare think about it. But by then, it was already too late.

— — —

(A/N: Okay, so this was supposed to be in Sweet Misery, but I'm not doing that story anymore since it's so unrealistic and stupid and because I hate how I wrote it. No offense though, to those who liked it. I love you all the best.)

He didn't notice me until I was about a foot away from him. The moon shone blue highlights in his hair, shadowing his features. And yet, you could tell, he was just as hot.

He stood up and tried to dematerialize. I reached out and grabbed his hand.

Cradling it with both of my own, I said, "I'm here to say 'goodbye.' "

He looked at me, his eyes bright. I don't think he even noticed how messed up I looked. They were still the same, his eyes. Still as dark and inscrutable as when I first met him. "Goodbye." He said, his voice as soft as the wind, "I'll miss you."

I looked down and dropped his hand. Nothing could've been harder than this in my life. "I'll miss you too." I focused my attention on the Steve Maddens in my hands. "I also wanted to say 'Thanks,' " I whispered, my voice cracking. "You know, for everything you've done for me. You've always been there, when I needed someone. I mean, if it weren't for you, I'd probably be dead or something."

I looked down onto the ground. There were wet marks on the sand from where my tears had fallen. Also dripping from my hair. I started to turn when I felt his hand touch my cheek. Just like in the hospital so many months ago, he grazed it gently with the backs of his fingers. I choked, trying to contain the sobs.

"Susannah," he said, "it is I who should be thanking you."

This time I couldn't help it, a sob exploded from me as I threw my arms around his neck. He froze. I don't think I'd ever hugged Jesse before. It was probably bad timing to start now, when I was all wet and covered in sand, but soon his hands encircled my waist gently, his entire body trembling, but warm.

We stood there, crying and hugging, until finally, I pulled away, and met his gaze. His eyes were filled with genuine tears. "I meant what I said that day, in the graveyard," I took a breath, "and I still mean it." I'll always mean it, I wanted to say, but that would just make things harder.

He opened his mouth to speak, but I stopped him and gave him a swift kiss on the cheek. "I'll never forget you," I whispered.

I took one last look at him, and breathed it all in. His knee-high cowboy boots and tight fitting pants, his open collared shirt, showing, unbeknownst to him, his incredible six-pack. I took one last look at his perfectly chiseled face, the scar on his right eyebrow, his crispy black hair, his dark cavernous eyes… and then proceeded to run.

These wounds won't seem to heal,

This pain is just too real,

There's just too much that time cannot erase.

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears,

When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your tears.

And I've held your hand for all of these years…

But you still have all of me.

— — —

"Suze? Hello? Yo! Simon! You in there?"

I looked up. Once again, Gina was fervently waving her palm in my face. "What?" I said, brushing it away. I had no right to be annoyed with her, I know, but I had a tendency to be grumpy after sudden flashbacks.

"We're going to the beach," she said, "to watch the sunset. Chris was wondering if you wanted to come with."

The beach. I looked around the dinner table. All the plates were cleared, mine being the only exception. They must've been long gone. I wondered just how long I had been out of it. What would they say about me?

"No." I murmured, "its okay. I'm sort of tired, I think from the flight." I looked up at her anxious face. "Jetlag, you know."

"Oh." She said, her lips making the shape of a perfect O. "Well, then maybe you should go to sleep."

We cleared the last of the table in silence, not looking at one another as we pushed in the chairs. Outside I could hear a horn honking, waiting for Gina to leave.

I walked her to the door, and she put on her coat. "Listen," she said, as I started up the stairs, "Suze."

Turning around, I saw that she was already halfway outside, looking nervous and rather tense. My roommate was always worried about me too. "Hmm?" I said, not moving as my left hand gripped the railing. It was my plan to go upstairs and hit the lights, as soon as I heard their car exit the driveway.

"If you have a hard time sleeping," she muttered, "you could always go to my room."

It was an open suggestion, but I knew what she was thinking. Why would it be hard to sleep in my own? It wasn't like certain members of the dead were constantly visiting anymore.

"I'm fine, Gina." I gave her a grateful smile. "You don't need to worry about me."

But she was right, I guess. I couldn't sleep that night, not as they pulled out of the driveway, or when I heard them come back, an hour later. I lay in bed for a long time, listening to the music booming from Doc's stereo…until that was gone too, and the only things left to take note of were the sounds of crickets, chirping in the night.

—

I woke up the next morning feeling loopy and out of place.

The sun was already spilling into my room, and as I got up to close the windows, I realized that people were already out there on that strip of beach.

Dressing quickly, in a tiered skirt from Bebe and a sweater set from Banana Republic (40 from Gilroy Premium outlets, courtesy of Gina as a 'Welcome Back' present), I went downstairs to find that no one was at home.

Which was just fine, really. After everything that had happened the day before, the shock of it all, it was probably best that I sat down and had some alone time anyway.

After walking in circles for the first half hour, I finally resolved to sit down and watch some TV. After all, it was summer. Nothing to do but enjoy it, right?

Apparently Chris had checked himself into the Carmel Inn last night—according to the note my mom left on the refrigerator—so I was away from that, too. Not that I didn't enjoy spending time with my boyfriend of course. I just—don't want too much time.

But after flipping through countless channels on HBO, and watching way too many sappy versions of the Young and the Restless, I realized that perhaps I needed to get myself a job, like Gina and Sleepy.

Maybe someplace nice like the Gap, or something.

They would probably give me employee discounts, too.
—

Nobody comes home until around six later that night, and by then I had turned into a regular couch potato.

The strangest thing was that the entire time, whilst I was wasting away to John Mayer and watching old reruns of Friends, I honestly did not feel the least bit alone.

In fact it wasn't until I caught Gina and Sleepy making out—and doing whoknowswhatelse—in the hallway closet that I did feel a pang of something.

Dinner was held that night on the patio, in honor of my return so that we could—as my mom put it—'talk and rewind a bit'. But as soon as we were out there, listening to the lapping of the waves—which was either from the beach, or one of my mom's Zen tapes—there was really nothing left to say.

Something was growing up inside of me, like a force, willing to push itself out, whatever it was. All of a sudden, I really did feel okay.

A lot may happen in two years, and realistically; heartaches may take longer to mend. Though I honestly thought, sitting there with Mom and Andy on the side patio, talking with Gina and Sleepy about my psyche course next year, and eating Andy's famous Chicken and Steak quesidillas, that everything was going to be just fine.

But of course I was wrong.