A/N: I could not believe chapter 10 got so many reviews :) :) You know how to make a girl happy LOL. Anyway, here is chapter 11. Happy New Year!!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. If I did, I wouldn't be writing ff about them.. oh who am I kidding? I probably would.

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Chapter 11: The Bus Station

By the time Ryan and Sandy reached the bus station, all they could see were the red taillights of a bus driving away. The smallest bit of hope that Ryan had held on to vanished at the sight, and he felt sick to his stomach. Standing in front of the 'Welcome to Newport Beach' sign, he lamented that he really hated that freaking bus station. It was where he had last seen his brother, Trey, and it was where he'd lost Taylor.

For a moment, he couldn't think. He couldn't move. Sandy came up and placed his hand on his shoulder signaling that he wasn't alone. Ryan appreciated the sentiment, but it wasn't enough. "I have to get her." he said.

"I know." He reached in his wallet and handed Ryan some money. "Listen, kid. You're hurt and whether you want to believe it or not, you aren't superhuman. Don't get yourself hurt more. She may be gone, for now... but remember we're here. Your family is here. We want you to come back to us in one piece." He grinned in his special Sandy Cohen way. "Besides, I'm not sure how more blood Seth is willing to donate to you."

Ryan couldn't even smile at that. "I'll be back when I can."

Sandy wanted more of a reassurance but knew it wasn't going to come. "Come on. I'll walk you in."

Upon entering the bus station, they walked toward the ticket counter. If Ryan hadn't had a sixth sense to turn around, he never would have seen her. In the far corner of the building sat a young woman fidgeting nervously. It took a moment for Ryan to fully comprehend who it was. The Taylor he knew was always so prim, proper, and put together. This girl was the total opposite. She wore a pink jogging outfit, black shirt underneath. He recognized them as the same ones she'd worn when visiting him in the hospital. Her hair was pulled back in a simple, slightly messy ponytail. Her normally floppy bangs were held back out of her eyes with a shiny silver barrette.

He wanted to run to her, but held himself back for fear of scaring her off. He felt like he was approaching a wounded animal. Maybe he was.

Ryan didn't say anything. He just cautiously sat beside her, giving her the options of remaining silent or talking. He just wanted her to know that he was there-- no pressure. He felt that little spark of hope light again, but he tried to squash it. There was no telling what would happen between them.

"You know--" she began after a few minutes. "I only have two memories of my life before the earthquake."

He nodded, giving her time to say her peace.

"One is where I remembered calling Seth 'Cohen'."

"That's handy."

She cut her eyes to him, happy that at least someone could find a sliver of humor in all of this. "Isn't it though."

"And two?" he prompted when she stopped talking; a rarity for her.

She looked back down at her hands, but Ryan noticed her face relaxing, a small curve forming on her lips. "And two is a memory I have of you actually. I remember being sad, but I don't know why. I was standing at a bar with some guy speaking French. I don't remember what we were saying. Anyway, the next thing I know my lips were warm and my body was tingling. I opened my eyes and saw you. Your eyes looked so sad, but, still, I felt it. A spark. You tapped me on the nose sweetly. That's all I remember."

She smiled shyly. "I can't get that image or that feeling out of my head." Her face reddened. "It's embarrassing."

"No. No, it's not. Actually, I'm relieved you remember me at all."

"So," she moved around her seat with uneasiness, hating the feeling of constant uncertainty she felt. "What was going on then? Why was I sad? Why were you?"

It was his turn to shift in his seat, obviously unsure how to answer.

"And don't lie to me-- please. My mother had done enough of that for a lifetime."

Ryan understood. It was her life, and she deserved to know the truth about it. "OK. You were sad, I think, because you wanted a divorce from your French husband, and he wouldn't give one to you." He paused, allowing her to absorb the information. "You had a French husband because--"

"--my mother was an emotional terrorist who never said she loved me so I clung to the first person in my life who told me they did."

He sat stunned. "Did you just remember that?"

"Huh?" she shook her head. "No, just seemed like something she would do."

"Well, from what you told me, you're right."

"Am I still married?"

"No. You- we- convinced his lawyer, that's who you were talking to, that we were lovers, which we weren't at the time."

"So-- the kiss?"

"Was our first. Just for show."

"I see." She picked some lint from her pants. At least she knew something about herself now, even if she couldn't remember it. She now wanted to know a little more about Ryan. "And-- why were you sad?"

His jaw automatically clinched, and she realized that maybe she had overstepped some line she didn't even know was there. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-- to hurt you. I'll go." When she stood, he gently grabbed her hand and guided her back down to her seat next to him. He locked his fingers with hers, trying to let the words form. He'd never really told the story to anyone before. His words came out staggered. "I had lost someone a few months before. She-- died-- in a car accident, well, it wasn't really an accident. We were pushed--" he paused, refusing to think about that bastard Volchok. He took a deep, steadying breath. "It was my fault, at least partially, and I had been barely living, barely functioning ever since. You asked me for my help with your husband and at first I told you no, but I guess I just couldn't stay away."

She placed her other hand on top of their intertwined ones. She could feel his sorrow and wanted to comfort him in whatever small way she could. "I'm sorry-- about your friend."

He shook his head. Enough talking about Marissa. He couldn't deal with all of those memories on top of the possibility of losing Taylor. It wasn't possible. Instead, he looked into her hazel eyes and made himself smile. "We, me and you, had a rocky start. I wasn't ready for a relationship-"

"Because of the girl."

"Because of a lot of reasons. Then when I was, you weren't. Finally, one night, I told you I loved you." His smile went from forced to genuine thinking about how drunk she had been – how cute she'd been. "Then, like always, I blew it. Then I told you again, and the earthquake happened--"

"And I forgot all about you." she said sadly.

He nodded slowly, his heart breaking because he couldn't, he didn't, save her.

"Which puts us here."

"Which puts us here." he echoed, lightly tracing patterns on her knuckles.

It was her turn to look away. Gently, Ryan placed his hand under her chin and tilted it up to him. "I'm just glad you're--- OK. You'll remember your past or you won't. But you're alive and that's all that matters to me."

"It's just not fair. I want to remember you." She leaned over, placed her head under his chin, and snuggled against his chest. "You seem so nice and warm, lovable and sexy."

"Yep, that's me alright." he laughed lightly. "I'm lovable."

They sat there together, both thinking in their own little worlds. Ryan wondered if he could say anything else to keep her there and not leave him. Taylor wondered if she could stay; if it would be fair to either of them if she did. Over the intercom, the next bus to Los Angeles was called.

"There sure are a lot of buses to L.A.." Ryan said.

"Lots of people who need to get away. To get lost."

"You're already lost, Taylor. You don't have to go away for that." he gently teased. She playfully slapped him on the arm and then settled back under his chin. "I suppose you're right." She took one last second to close her eyes and remember the moment. Ryan's smell, his touch, the feeling of him. It would have to last her until she saw him again. As painful as it was, she'd made her decision.

"Ryan," she said as she sat up. She pulled their hands to her lap and placed her free hand on top of his. She had to be strong for this. By her actions, he knew what she was going to say before she said it. "I don't want to leave."

Then don't! he thought, but didn't say it. He just listened.

"I feel like I have to, though. I have to find myself, to remember myself before I can give myself to you. Does that make sense? If I tried right now, all you would get was an empty vase, a void black hole. You deserve more than that."

I don't deserve anything, he thought. He felt like his insides were knots. If only he'd protected her better in the earthquake......

Sensing him mentally kicking himself for something, she raised her free hand and gently caressed his cheek. "Please understand." A tear spilled down her own cheek. Ryan carefully wiped it away. It killed him to see a woman cry, especially a woman he was deeply in love with. "Please, Ryan. Don't make this harder than it already is. Just let me go."

He wanted to make her stay. He was almost sure she would if he asked. As much as he wanted to, he knew it wasn't fair to her. She was hurting. She was crying, and his inability to let her go was the main cause.

Frustrated, he raked his fingers through his blond hair which was still in disarray from his hospital bed. He knew he couldn't ask her to stay so instead he found a loose piece of magazine and a pen. After he wrote on it, he handed it to her. "You have to promise to call me everyday so I know you are OK." She looked at the paper and saw his cell number on it.

She smiled at the gesture. "Once a week."

"Every other day."

"Deal." she shook his hand to seal the deal, but both their hands lingered. She couldn't make hers move. Why did she have to leave?

The last call for her bus sounded through the station. "I'd better go. I already missed one bus today waiting for you to get here."

His lips curved up slightly. "Sorry about that. I had a back injury, scary nurse, evil mother, cops, and the driving of Sandy Cohen keeping me away."

"And yet you made it."

"And yet I made it-- just in time to say good-bye."

"It means a lot, you know? You being here."

He reached in his pocket and handed her the money Sandy had given him. "I can't take this." she protested.

Not taking no for an answer he laid it in her hand and closed it. "Call me when you get there."

Accepting his gift, she nodded leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Good-bye Ryan Atwood."

"See ya later, Townsend."

When she was all the way to the door, he called to her. There was something else he had to tell her before it was too late. "I love you, Taylor."

She stopped, her hand lingered on the door. Her eyes met his. "I want to love you too, Ryan. Just give me some time." She gave a little wave which he mirrored, and then she opened the door and was gone.

Ryan was left alone in the bus station. He placed his hands in his pockets, kept his eyes on the door in case she came back, and started thinking about ways he was going to cope if she didn't. She was alive. She would call. And she would be back. Those were the things he had to hold-on to.

Sandy came back in and led his son out toward the car. They both stopped to watch Taylor's bus pull out and disappear down the street just as the sun was rising. "It'll be ok. You'll see." Sandy told him.

"Yeah, right." Ryan answered, not the least bit sarcastic. However, he didn't believe Sandy. Nothing would be alright until Taylor was back.

She's alive. He reminded himself.

She'll call.

She'll be back.

"She'll be back." Ryan said to himself under his breath, not quite sure if he really believed it.

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