A day late. Sorry! Thanks to all the usual suspects. ShearEnvy, bashfulfan, roglows and livie79. Gems! Each and every one of you!

A note on the timeline: The high school in this story is from grades 10-12, because that's how mine was. Most of you won't give a frick, but if you like to map it out in your mind, there's that.

On with it!

I wish I was reading a book or doing anything other than just sitting here alone, but I don't have it in me to pretend today.

He's contrite in his sobriety, his gaze bouncing to mine and down again as he walks up the steps. He's tan and his brown hair is almost blond in spots from the sun. I recognize the t-shirt he's wearing as one from a concert he and Ben went to last summer but his board shorts look brand new. His eyes look tired and I wonder if his night was as sleepless as mine.

"Hey," he says.

The way he's looking at me makes me feel naked and I wish I had sunglasses on so I could hide how I feel just a little bit. I'm sure it's plain on my face.

I'm not ready to forgive him for last night.

"Hey," I say.

He sits in the chair across from me.

"I want to apologize," he starts.

A cube in my forgotten glass of iced tea cracks.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this," I say.

He waits for an explanation.

"Angela and I…" I don't even finish that. It's just done, I think. "Jasper's obviously pushing us together to get back at Angela, and Rose hangs up on me every time I call."

I fidget with the hair tie around my wrist.

He shakes his head. "I don't want to talk about them."

"What do you want to talk about?" I ask.

"Ben."

I think about my brother all the time, but I haven't heard Edward say his name in so long that it makes my eyes tear. There's no hiding it so I don't try.

"I want to tell you what happened."

Everyone knows what happened. The papers printed detailed accounts. The news cameras shot footage of the cops dragging the river for his body. I tried to ignore the press surrounding his death but every second that I did see is burned in my brain.

Every word.

But we haven't had this conversation. He's the last one Ben spoke to. He was the last one who saw Ben alive. I nod and he starts speaking like the words have been on the tip of his tongue for a year.

"After you and I..." he looks down and I silently fill in the words he doesn't say, "...got back, Ben said he wanted to go up to the cliffs. Probably to get away from Jasper as much as anything."

I nod, sighing. Any other day the three of them would have been together. Somewhere we have a picture of them standing by the cliffs that Ben took with his arm outstretched, holding the camera. The Beehive is the highest peak, and only the truly reckless jumped off of it. Even before I'd been to the river I'd heard the stories surrounding it.

"He wanted to do the Beehive and I told him I thought it was a bad idea but he was so fucked up about everything that day, I just went with it. We stopped on the walk so he could take a piss and he told me he thought he might actually like Angela. I mean, he loved Rose. He said that, too."

"What do you think would have happened?"

"I don't know. I really don't. He knew he fucked it up, either way. He was worried about whether Rose and Jasper would forgive him. He was worried about your dad's business and he was worried about how you would react when you found out…"

I go still.

"You knew." It's not a question.

"Yeah. He knew you were going to move and he knew you'd have to switch schools and all he cared about was how you would take it."

Two tears spill on to my cheeks. A car drives by, music blaring out of the open windows. Their brakes squeak at the stop sign and both of us listen to the song fade as they get a block away... two blocks.

"We got to the top and shotgunned a beer. He was dealing with all this shit and I started to feel really guilty...about you. About going behind his back and how he was going to find out anyway."

He stares at the peeling paint on our porch floor.

"Did you tell him?" I ask.

He shakes his head and doesn't look up. "He asked me what was up. I told him some bullshit about my mom."

I watch him struggle with the words.

"I didn't know that would be my last chance, you know? I thought maybe we'd have a few more beers. Smoke a bowl. Then I'd tell him."

He holds his breath and I know we're getting to the terrible, inevitable end to this story. "Then he said 'Everything's gonna be okay, man.' Just like that."

He looks up.

"Then he smiled at me. Then he jumped."

There's nothing to say after that, because when it happened there was nothing for a long time. Nothing that I want to remember, anyway.

"I thought you needed space or whatever." I can tell those are someone else's words he's using. "I showed up at your house. All the doors were locked and the basketball hoop was gone. I even looked in the windows and shit. You didn't even say goodbye."

I take a deep breath and wipe my cheeks as dry as I can with my palms.

"Why?" he asks.

"There was what happened with Angela after the funeral." It's my turn to be contrite. "Everything felt so screwed up. And what was I going to say to you? 'Hey, I know Ben just died but do you want to keep making out when I move to the west bank?'"

"I would've said yes." He doesn't hesitate.

We stare at each other.

"Seeing you is fucking with me. I thought I had everything worked out and then you show up and…"

"Like I said, maybe we shouldn't-"

"Stop saying that." He pulls his hat down. "Please stop saying that," he says, quieter.

I'm not sure why, but out of everything, that's what makes me burst into tears.

He gets up and sits next to me but the angle is awkward and I missed the way he smells like grass clippings and weed, so I turn and throw my arms around his neck and turn my face in so I can soak his t-shirt with tears. We don't move for a long time.

Even after I stop crying and my breathing is slow and even, I don't let go, because this might be the last time I get to hug him. It might be the last time we get to be this honest with each other.

I sit up and take a deep breath, recognizing the calm clarity that comes after crying.

"Do you want to be friends?" I ask. "I know you said we weren't before but-"

He interrupts. "I didn't mean that."

"So, yes?"

He smiles. "Yeah."

"And Angela will be okay with that?"

He doesn't answer. I don't know how we can be anything if we don't address it, though.

I stand up and sit across from him. The distance makes me feel like I can be objective about this, even though I probably can't.

"Just tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"How it happened. How we got from the funeral to you two dating."

He exhales a long breath. "I felt bad for her -after the fight and everything." He gives me a look and I am appropriately sheepish at my shitty behavior. "She actually really liked Ben, you know. And Rose went AWOL and Jasper turned into this psychotic jackass for a few months. She was the only person I could really talk to."

"So you start talking and hanging out and then you kiss and the next thing...?"

It's a fantasy I had once. A little, bratty part of me hates her for stealing that. A bigger part of me wants to vomit.

He shrugs and I know if I didn't hit the nail on the head that I'm close to the truth.

"Are you happy?" I ask.

He stares at the floor. "Am I supposed to be?"

"I don't know."

I don't know if any of us are supposed to be happy yet. I have full minutes of it now...hours if I don't stumble into something that reminds me of him. Sometimes it's just a look on someone's face or the way they say a word.

Sometimes it's as simple as a benign thought that reminds me that I'm here to have benign thoughts and he isn't.

He's frowning and I realize what's missing between us is laughter. Edward was rarely serious. I attempt to lighten the mood.

"So, if we do end up hanging out I'll just tell you right now that you can't flirt with me. It'll just make it harder."

He looks up and I think for the first time since I've seen him again, he cracks a real, true smile.

It breaks my heart wide open and that happiness that usually evades me lands there. We grin at each other.

"Harder, huh?" he asks.

I laugh.

"You're still a perv," I say. "Good to know that hasn't changed."

His smile widens and he's about to say something when my parents pull into the driveway. I hear them get out of the car but I'm watching his face.

"Edward," I hear my mom say.

He gets up and I can't watch. I hear her let out a muffled sob as they hug. My dad says "Good to see you, young man," when they hug, and I'm afraid I'll cry again.

"We had dinner but would you stay for some ice cream?" my mom asks in a hopeful voice, wiping at her eyes.

He'd probably rather have a beer. He probably has plans tonight and doesn't want to sit around with me and my still-grieving parents. But he nods.

"That sounds great."

Edward looks around as we walk to the kitchen, listening with interest as my dad tells him about the renovation plans.

I pull out four bowls and my dad scoops the ice cream. They ask him a thousand questions and he doesn't seem to mind at all. We laugh and for a while we feel whole again.

It's almost two hours before I walk him out to the porch. Crickets chirp in the darkness.

"That was really decent of you," I say, crossing my bare arms over my chest.

He smiles.

I'm not sure how to leave things. It feels more like the end of a date than it probably should.

"What now?" I ask.

"I get in my car and go home. You go to bed. And tomorrow I try to figure out how to tell Angela that you and I are going to be friends."

I hate every part of that. I hate it so much that it's then I realize what a dangerous game this is. This is all twisted up and to untangle it will mean broken hearts...very possibly mine.

"Good luck with that," I say.

We stand there facing each other. After a minute I stick my hand out.

He looks down and back up at me.

"A handshake?" He laughs but sticks his hand out, too, his palm warm and rough. I remember what they felt like on my waist...my hips.

He says goodnight and I don't go back inside until I can't hear his car anymore.

This is going to work out just fine.

Yeah, right.

Jasper calls again. This time it really is about Rose. I take my dad's mid-priced sedan and despite the fact that I'm trying to be well-adjusted, I consider parking it on the street rather than pulling it up to the gates.

I don't want him to think I'm ashamed of my family, though. I pull up and roll down the window, pushing the intercom button with my index finger. I'm buzzed in without having to announce myself, and I pull up in the carport. An attendant opens my car door and another is waiting to escort me inside.

I'm directed toward the study. Jasper's sprawled across a leather chair in the formal room, an unlit cigar between his forefinger and thumb.

"Cuban?" he asks.

I politely decline.

"Suit yourself."

He lights the cigar and I stand, waiting.

"Where is she?" I ask.

"Upstairs in her room."

I stare at him. "Are you going to tell her I'm here?"

He laughs. "Oh, she doesn't know you're coming."

"Seriously?"

"If she knew she'd kill me."

"What makes you think she won't kill me?"

He shrugs. "She probably won't even talk to you."

A nervous-looking man steps into the room, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Sir, the kegs are here."

"Put them on ice by the pool house."

The man bows and steps out.

"I'm having a party," he says. "I would have invited you but…" He doesn't finish the thought and I don't respond to it.

"Just tell me what exactly you think I can do to help Rose."

"She doesn't care about school. She doesn't care about her friends. She doesn't care about anything. Angela didn't take the head cheerleader spot from her." He practically growls as he says her name. "Rose gave it up. I just want someone to get through to her."

Like during our last conversation on this topic, I'm surprised at the intensity of his emotion and the honesty of his words.

And like before, I get it.

He stands, rolling the cigar between two fingers. "I appreciate you doing me this favor."

There's knocking at the door, then laughter, as three girls in big sunglasses and tiny sundresses walk into the foyer. I recognize them as girls that were a grade ahead of me at my old school. One of them whispers my name just loud enough so I can hear it.

"I'm not doing it for you," I say to Jasper, walking past the girls and up the marble staircase.

"Do you have any coke?" I hear one of the girls ask.

Jasper responds in the affirmative and I start to wonder who really needs saving here.

The door to Rose's room is closed but unlocked. I knock but when there's no response I let myself in. I'm not sure what I expected...maybe that it would be dark and closed up... but it's not. All the windows are open and somehow, even though the rest of the city is baking in the heat, her room is cool.

She's got headphones over her ears and she's laid out on a chaise lounge with her eyes closed. Nothing has changed much about her but her clothes. She's wearing cutoffs and a tank top that looks like it was cut up out of a t-shirt. It looks like something Alice would wear.

The band on her t-shirt has dark lyrics and heavy guitar. Ben used to like them. Rose didn't. I can hear tinny bass through her headphones. There are CD's scattered on the ground and even though she's taken down the framed photos of her and Ben from around the room, I see the top of one sticking out of a book, like she's using it for a bookmark.

When I glance back up, her bright blue eyes are open and she's staring at me blankly. It startles me more than I let on.

Her gaze is flat and uninterested.

"Hi, Rose."

She stares at me, her finger on her Discman and the headphones still on, like she's just waiting for me to leave so she can press play and pretend this didn't happen. "Hi."

"You keep hanging up on me."

She doesn't respond.

"Jasper's worried about you," I say.

Her steady gaze starts to unnerve me.

I try Edward's tactic. "I don't want to talk about Jasper, though. I want to talk about Ben."

She flinches and looks away, but not before I see a familiar devastation on her face. It's not far below the surface.

"Ben loved you...so much."

Her expression changes and even though I've always known she and Jasper were cut from the same cloth, this is the first time I've seen her so full of bitterness. "If you're here because you think that I doubt how much he loved me, you can leave."

I think that over and mentally take a step back from this scene, hoping for some perspective... some way in.

"Why are you so angry at me?" I ask.

She rolls her eyes and for a second I can see her, the way she used to be.

"Why are you here? To fix me? Like all I need is for someone to talk some sense into me - to remind me that Ben would want me to go on living life to its fullest or whatever trite platitudes you've been planning to say?"

"You're not the only one that lost him."

"I'm aware of that."

The hostility in her voice is palpable. This person isn't the Rose I knew. I stand, ready to end this conversation, but the photo tucked in the book catches my eye again.

I try one more time.

"What was the last thing he said to you?" I ask. Now that Edward told me about his last moments with Ben I want to hear more. I'm almost desperate to hear more.

She blinks and looks down, frozen there for a moment before she pulls the headphones off of her head and sits up.

"He said 'I love you','" she murmurs.

She doesn't ask what he said to me last but she seems like she's waiting for it.

"He told me to be safe," I say.

"Right before he jumped off a cliff," she says. "Fucking idiot." There's no anger in her voice, though. She says it almost fondly. "Sometimes it makes me want to do something really reckless."

Her gaze goes to the window.

"I don't know about reckless, but maybe you could come hang out with me on the west bank sometime?" I kick at one of the CD's on the floor. "My friend Emmett loves this shitty music."

She shrugs.

"You'd like them, you know...my new friends."

Her almost-smile falls. "You know what the last thing I said to him was?"

I shake my head.

"I told him I hated loving him. At the time I didn't know how much I'd end up meaning that."

She pulls the headphones over her ears and presses the button, closing her eyes again.

I leave her bedroom door wide open behind me.

Downstairs, I find Jasper in the dining room. He's got a crystal glass of scotch in his hand and the antique mirror-topped bar cart has white lines laid out in rows. There are three girls in bikinis bent over it, popping up one-by-one, all wide pupils and smiles. Jasper's are hidden behind a pair of Ray-Bans.

"You can stick around if you want, Swan. Edward would love it. Angela wasn't invited."

Two of the girls exchange a look.

"You want a bump?" one of them asks.

Another one is adjusting her cleavage in her bikini. "Edward is so fucking hot. I'm totally going to try to get on him tonight."

Definitely not friends of Angela's. The girl tries to hand me a rolled-up hundred dollar bill. Of course.

Jasper grabs it out of her hand. "No. Not her." He says it in a way that confuses me until I realize it's how Ben would have said it. It's brotherly.

Then he leans down and I watch the similarities disappear along with the white powder.

I turn around and walk out. "Wait up, Swan." I'm halfway to the door when he catches up to me.

"Were you always this depraved?" I ask, spinning to face him.

He sips his drink. "Yes. Why?"

This scene...I wonder if this is where Ben would have ended up. Or me.

"Did you talk to her?" he asks.

"Kind of. She seems...detached."

"No kidding," he says, flatly.

I turn again and this time I'm to the door before he stops me, slapping his palm flat on the door and standing too close to me.

"Come on, Swan."

"Fine. Maybe she needs a change of pace. To get the fuck out of this." I gesture toward the dining room.

For a brief moment he looks like he feels bad - and a little lost. "If I can get her out of the house, where should I bring her?" It's a serious question.

"Party on the west bank tomorrow night."

He grimaces.

"Look, Jas. I'm not a shrink. I'm just barely less fucked up than Rose some days. But maybe it would help if you get her out of her own head a little. This isn't all there is, you know."

I hear people on the other side of the door. Car doors slam.

I step back just before the door flies open and people stream in. I say a few hellos but Jasper waves them off so we can finish our conversation.

"I'll see what I can do," he says, after the room clears. Someone turns up the music.

With my hand on the doorknob, I pause. "Hey, Jas?"

He waits.

"What was the last thing Ben said to you?"

It's not often that Jasper is silent and still, but he is now. He slides his sunglasses off.

"Why?"

I pause. "I don't know. I just want to know."

He takes a big drink off of his scotch before he answers.

"I don't remember much about that day. I took some pills...drank like half a bottle of Jack."

I knew that. He pauses, but then he's sniffing and wiping at his nose and I want to get out of here.

"I don't even remember when the cops showed up, or when they pulled him out of the water. I woke up the next morning like it was any other day. Rose was a fucking mess and I...I asked her what was wrong. I had no idea what happened until I turned on the TV."

I just stare at him.

"How fucked up is that?" he asks.

He turns and walks back to his party, probably hoping he can find a substance that will erase this conversation.

I kind of wish I could, too.

Thank you for reading!