A/N: And here is the final installment! Don't you worry, Oh, How It Burns will be back soon.
As The World Falls Down
It didn't take her long to find him.
He figured she would seek him out soon enough.
On a particularly unusually peaceful day, she found him sitting on the back porch, head leaning against the stairs' railing and looking at his loosely entwined fingers. Her heart skittered because in that second, he embodied the Tate she thought he was so long ago, before she found out the hideous truth that made both of them emotionally battered beyond repair.
She sat down next to him and they were silent for a few minutes because there was so much to say. Like what she said to her mom. What he overheard her say to her mom.
"You shouldn't be out here."
"Yeah."
"So why are you?"
He turns his head slowly so he can stare into her eyes.
"I don't know. To feel the thrill, to take the risk that a storm could come by any second and tear my insides out. So I can live a little."
"It's not safe."
"And what, you think I'm safer in this house?"
Well, the boy definitely has a point there.
She sighs. "It makes me nervous."
"What, me being out here?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
Such an insignificant word, but such an immensely important and powerful question.
"Because I don't want you getting hurt."
"I won't, as long as you're here with me."
She smiled at him. That smile felt like summer had descended down on him, freeing him from the cruel, unfeeling winter that his sins had condemned him to for so long.
"Wanna play a game with me?"
He smiled back.
"Of course."
He groaned as a slow smile spread across her face.
"Uno."
Running his fingers exasperatedly through his hair, he stuck his tongue out at her and looked down at his hand of at least ten cards. "It's not fair."
"Aw, don't be such a sore loser."
Suddenly the cards started flapping like newborn birds struggling to take flight from the ground they so rudely careened into and when they glanced up, they saw eddies of dust and rubble forming. From the time each of them had spent staring outside through the windows, they knew a storm was coming and fast.
She tried to scoop up all the cards, but the wind had already kicked up and some of them flew away. And, for some reason Tate couldn't fathom, she ran after them.
For a moment he could only stare at her, dumbstruck. But then when she ducked and was narrowly missed by a flying two by four, he was snapped back into reality and rushed after her in the storm, the visibility decreasing every second as more dust swirled into the noxious air.
"Violet! Violet! Where are you?"
God, he was going to find her a shredded mess if he didn't get to her soon. Shit. Shit!
A sharp pain exploded in his side as some shards of glass embedded themselves into his obliques. He gasped, sucking down a lungful of God-knows-what, which induced an intense coughing fit. Falling to his knees, trying to rid his body of the toxins he just inhaled, he looked up to see – nothing.
When the end of the world came around, there was one thing all the ghosts learned quickly – don't get stuck in a storm. It could be extremely painful and quite disorienting; one time Troy and Brian got trapped and when they finally had enough wits to materialize back into the house, they were so cut up that Moira had to spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning spilled blood off the kitchen tiles.
And here he was, doing exactly the opposite of what he should, trying to find a girl who could be all of two feet away from him and he wouldn't know.
"Violet!"
He could only call her name once more before a mouthful of dirt and shattered metal clogged up his windpipe. He dropped to all fours, fighting the urge to curl up in the fetal position and hope his limbs would be enough protection, and started crawling in the direction he thought she had gone.
Probably only five minutes passed, but it felt like hours.
Beneath the howling of the wind, he somehow heard a groan.
And then he found her.
She was hunched over, face pressed to the ground, fists balled up tightly over her ears. Despite the warning signs that she was less than unscathed from the storm's ferocity, he could feel the relief washing through him like a cool drink of water on a hot day.
He army crawled to her as fast as he could, wrapped his arms around her, and willed them to materialize back to the house.
The cold of the kitchen floor never felt so good.
He only allowed himself a second to gather himself before turning to her and lifting her head with his hands to make eye contact with her.
"Violet, Violet! Are you okay?"
She was bleeding profusely from a cut on her forehead, but he knew head wounds bleed easily. He got a washcloth from the sink to staunch the bleeding, watching the red bloom onto the white fabric as he placed it on her forehead.
"Violet, answer me!"
And thank God, she gave him a weak smile.
"Hey, Tate."
Those two words shattered his adrenaline-induced armor and he slumped against her, exhausted and crying softly because she was okay. She was okay. She was okay.
"I'm fine, Tate."
He must have said that out loud, but he didn't care. He tightened his grip on her shirt as if she would fly away back into the storm if he wasn't anchoring her to the house.
The last thing he remembered before falling into a sleepy stupor was a light kiss planted on the top of his head.
They must have been sleeping against the cabinets for a while because when Tate awoke, he had the most awful kink in his neck. Looking up at Violet, he saw that she was still asleep. He got up and brushed off his sweater before gently picking her up and carrying her to her room. As he laid her on the bed, she stirred slightly and opened her eyes, smiling at him softly.
"Hey."
"Hey, sorry I woke you. I thought this might be a bit more comfortable."
"Thanks."
He stood at the side of the bed awkwardly, wanting so much to crawl next to her and hold her but not knowing if she wanted him to. She patted the side, giving him the answer he had so desperately hoped for.
"Come on, you must be tired."
He climbed in and rested his head on the pillow, looking deeply into her eyes and she blushed under his gaze.
"Why did you run out there?"
She dropped her eyes and played with a loose thread on the comforter.
"Vi?"
He picked up her chin so they were looking at each other again.
"Why? You scared me half to death."
They ignored the horrible pun.
"I needed to know."
The perplexed look on his face made her heart beat faster and she wondered if he could hear it.
"Know what?"
"That you would come after me."
He was silent as she continued.
"I needed to know that you still wanted to come after me, that you still cared after all the shit we went through, after all the pain I put you through. I needed to know that I still mattered to you."
She couldn't bear to look at him because she was so, so afraid of his answer.
"You are the only thing that matters. I will always come after you."
She starts crying at his answer and he hopes to whatever deity might exist that it is tears of joy, not sadness. She nestles into him and he cannot remember the last time that he was so consumed with happiness.
"Tate, I've missed you so much."
"I know."
"How do you know?"
"I overheard you talking with your mom."
He lets his words sink in, terrified that she will pull away again after learning about yet another way he has broken her trust and invaded her privacy.
"I didn't mean to overhear –"
She puts a finger to his lips, silencing him.
"You know how I felt. How I feel. That's not going to change."
"So you're not mad?"
"I've spent the better part of my existence angry. I don't want to be mad anymore. I just want to be with you."
"That's all I want, too."
The storm still raged on outside, but the house still stood and they still began anew as the world fell down around them.
A/N: The end! Reviews make me smile.