(Disclaimer: I don't own LoDt or song lyrics. Written for Dahlia Faith Black and for Becky, who motivated me to keep this going as long as I did.)

"Now you're gone, now you're gone;
There you go, there you go,
Somewhere I can't bring you back.
Now you're gone, now you're gone,
There you go, there you go;
Somewhere, you're not coming back."

- Slipped Away by Avril Lavigne

Chapter 6: All of My Memories

Three-year-old Jezebel squirmed out of seventeen-year-old Skip's arms and sprinted down the sidewalk after her mother's car as fast as her fat little legs would carry her. Lava-hot tears streamed down her face, and she screamed "Mama" over and over until her voice died; she was ignored and, as she could no longer run, her mother's car disappeared further and further down the street. She tripped on a crack in the sidewalk and crashed to the ground, tiny pebbles scraping against her hands and knees. In reality, she had only gone one block, but to her, she had run miles and miles chasing after that car as her mother abandoned her with someone she didn't know. She sat down on the curb, sobbing with her face in her dirty, scraped hands; a boy of about six years sat down next to her. He had a tangled mass of strawberry-blonde hair just past his ears, and soft eyes; he was awkwardly-tall for a six-year-old.

"What's wrong? Don't cry! It's okay!" He said, pulling gently at the ends of her wavy, blonde hair which curled in baby-wisps around her cheeks and chin. He side-hugged the small child, patting her back sympathetically.

"Who- who you?" Jezebel sniffled as the tears stopped pouring from her eyes; she looked up at the boy hugging her.

"I'm Jimmy; my mom calls me 'Boo'. You can call me Boo, too, if you want! What's your name? Why are you crying? I hate when girls cry..." the boy wrinkled his nose slightly and pulled back.

"Je-ze-bel, eve-one call me Bella. I got a owie… I not cry!" She paused to wipe her eyes again with her slightly-bloody palms, smearing dirt on her face. "M…mama left me wiv a daddy I never met. Be my fwend?" Jezebel's eyes shone with tears.

At this point, Skip walked calmly over to Jezebel and picked her up.

"Come on, Li'l Bit."

"Bye-bye!" Jezebel waved to her new friend sadly.

"I'll be your friend, Bella!" Jim shouted as Skip carried her away; he turned and ran down the street. Jezebel didn't know Jim was a friend of the boy she would come to know as her best friend, her unspoken brother.

Jezebel stood inside Zephyr, leaning against Bret; she stared at her mother, who leaned against the front of the counter, using it to hold her frail frame upright.

"Okay, you got me. I'm here to get support from your Dear-Ol'-Dad. After all, you're mine – I birthed you," her mother spat rabidly, and Jezebel could sense anger in Lita's voice. She let Bret speak for her.

"Wait a second," he fumed, as Skip stood in the front-corner of the store behind the counter with his arms crossed in silent surveillance of the unfolding situation. "You dumped your only daughter here twelve years ago, and now you want child support? You gotta be kidding me, lady!" Bret practically shouted, red creeping up into his face with ire as his arms closed protectively around the girl's shoulders.

Jezebel stared directly at her mother's eyes. They were light-blue with a gray tinge, like hers, and very bloodshot. They sunk back into her skull, and her pupils dilated; she trembled ever-so-slightly as she stood, fiddling with her scarred hands. Her fingers were covered with open wounds and small burns. Jezebel removed herself from Bret's arm and stepped forward, forcefully grabbing her mother's billowy sleeve to reveal the track marks lacing her arm.

"You bitch. You don't want child support, you want habit support! So, Lita, how long you been in this hole? Why pick now of all times to come barging back into my life? On my fucking birthday? How can you call yourself a mother?" Jezebel exploded into a tirade as she squeezed Bret's arm; he could have sworn he heard her voice speak to him telepathically.

He backed slowly away to the shaping room where only Jay and Tony remained. Jay listened intently with an unreadable expression, fidgeting all over the place, and Tony sat on an overturned bucket with his arms crossed and a scowl plastered across his features.

"Guys, help us out. Lita is definitely strung out on something, and she's trying to blackmail Skip. Tony, we need muscle… go block the door. I'm gonna call the cops. Don't let her out, no matter what… Jay, make sure Bella's alright." Both Jay and Tony gave sharp nods of confirmation and silently walked out of the room. Bret picked up the telephone from the receiver.

"...baby, listen – I know I gotta problem and I need a little money. I gotta get to rehab, Bella, that's why I left... I couldn't take care of you. the way I was. I gave you a better life with your dad. I want what's best for you baby, please..." crocodile tears began to well in Lita's eyes as she rapidly switched tactics in an attempt to get what she wanted.

Jezebel scoffed in disgust as she watched her mother blubber, while Jay and Tony emerged from the back room out of the corner of her eye. Tony walked over to the door, flipping the lock before leaning casually against it and trying to make himself appear bigger. Meanwhile, Jay appeared by her side, leaning his chin against one of her shoulders and reassuringly wrapping his arm around her. Bret stood in the back room, speaking to the 911 operator: "911, what's your emergency?"

"Don't call me 'baby', mother. I'm not your baby, I'm fifteen," her voice dripped with disdain. "You know my life isn't any better. Do you have any idea what it's like to grow up without a mom? Skip doesn't know anything about makeup, clothes, what's a decent time for a fifteen-year-old's curfew. He couldn't help with bras, periods, or explain where babies come from since he's always drunk. He couldn't tell me why 'mama' wasn't around. He can barely even take care of himself, hell I basically take care of him, always have. And you think my life is better?" Jay tightened his hug protectively as words poured from her like water from a tap.

Jezebel's mother stood, awestruck, unable to respond. "There's no way I could know all that..." her mother was saying weakly, her defenses continuing to fail.

"Of course not. Because you can't think about anyone but yourself! I want you back out of my life, you bitch. Don't come back, because we don't want you here," Jezebel finished as she watched a police car appear outside the shop.

Over the next few moments, everything moved fairly quickly. Tony unlocked the door and stepped back, and Jay led Jezebel out of the way as two officers stepped into the shop. Her brain went fuzzy as her mother was escorted out, and a memory came rushing back up at her.

Jezebel sat in the back seat as she watched her mother, who was standing outside the vehicle with a tall, black-haired man. She gave him some money, and he gave her something in return. Her mother got back in the car, waited for the man to turn the corner, and turned the keys in the ignition.

"Momma, who?" Her mother ignored her.

Her hair was stringy; they'd been living in their car the past two weeks. Her mother pulled off the road at a small motel and went inside, leaving her in the car alone, the window rolled down half-way. She felt the breeze float past as she unbuckled her three-year-old self from the seat and moved to the window, curling her fingers around it, and rested her chin against the hot glass.

She snapped out of her daydream as she was pulled away from Jay and crushed against Bret's chest in a bone-snapping bear hug. Jezebel stared blankly out the door under his arm, her own arms hanging motionless and limp by her sides, watching the cop car pull away with her mother. She made no effort to hug back; her body crumpled against him, and Bret supported her weight.

"Take me home." The words came out in a nearly-inaudible whisper, and Bret had to listen very closely to hear.

"A'course." He scooped her up into his arms like a child and carried her out the front door.

Jay watched Bret carry Jezebel away. They'd forgotten her gift; he walked into the other room and picked it up, strumming some of the strings nonsensically before slinging the strap across his chest. He was going to deliver it; he could still see them a little way down the road. He grabbed his skateboard, going after them, and Jezebel managed to raise her head above Bret's shoulder with slight difficulty. She could hear the grinding of wheels on pavement; she watched Jay speed toward them, guitar slung over his back. She remembered once, back when she was about nine.

They sat side-by-side in the sand; they both snuck out of their respective houses. It was well after 9 PM, past bedtime for most kids. Honestly, it wasn't really that hard, when you thought about it. Jezebel's window was nearly ground-level, and Jay would wriggle out of his own window onto the roof, not that he needed to – his mother was pretty mellow. He had a mini-bottle of booze that he'd just finished off. Another lay next to them, empty. The sand was cool beneath their bodies, the sun long-set. Jay, who was eleven at the time, turned to Jezebel.

"Bella, can we try somethin'?" He asked.

"Like?" She looked over at him, tossing some sand onto his bare legs and jean shorts with a giggle. He paused to throw sand back at her, and it landed on her shirt.

"Wanna kiss you," he stated bluntly, suddenly inches away from her face, his hands on either side of her on the sandy ground. She could never figure out how he got in these positions so quickly and without her noticing.

"Why? You're my brother…" She scrunched up her face.

"Not really, though… and because I want to, it's what you're supposed to do when you like someone." He looked down at the sand, moving to brush some off her shirt, still leaning over her.

"Okay… how? I've only seen it in movies," she replied honestly.

"Like this." He awkwardly grabbed her face, pursed his lips, and pushed them onto hers in a quick peck, then moved away.

"Wow, okay that's weird... my tummy is all fluttery. Can we try again?" Jezebel coughed a bit, then stared right back at him.

"Yeah. Slower, though." He moved back toward her again, then added, "and don't slobber on me this time."

"Slobber on you? You kissed me!" She crossed her arms indignantly over her chest.

"Oh, shut up." He moved toward her again, only slower, gently pushing her crossed arms apart.

He didn't grab her face, but only leaned in and kissed her softly, letting his lips linger for a moment. Jezebel sighed and flopped down onto her back; Jay lay down next to her, staring up at the stars.

"You're good at that," Jezebel said with finality, pushing her sun-bleached hair out of her face. Jay rolled onto his side.

"You really think so?" He questioned.

"Yeah. I like it, we should do it more often," she replied, looking out over the ocean as she sidled closer and leaned her head onto his shoulder.

Jezebel sat up a few moments after Bret placed her on the couch in his apartment; seconds later, Jay appeared in the open doorway, guitar in one hand, skateboard in the other. "Forgot your gift. Sorry 'bout your mom, coulda been any of us," he said, propping the instrument on the other arm of the couch; he sank down and patted her back reassuringly. Bret reappeared from the kitchen, glasses of something in each of his hands.

"Hey, Jay," he greeted, then turned to Jezebel and handed her a drink. "Thought you could use this. You okay?"

"Alright, I guess… that was just so fucking hard," Jezebel replied. Jay broke away and stood, walking to the window. Jez took a large gulp of whatever was in her cup, and almost spluttered it right back out as it burned her throat. And then she started to laugh. "Ahh, whiskey… the water of California. The drought and all, I nearly forgot. Thanks for that," she said, grinning as he sat in a chair across from her. She reached her foot out and kicked him lightheartedly in the leg, laughing harder.

"Ooph! You think that's funny, do you?" He asked, faking a stern tone as he stood from his chair, set both their drinks safely on the side-table, and leaned down to press their lips together.

"Oh!" Jezebel exclaimed, slightly-shocked, bringing both hands to rest gingerly on his face. Bret's arms found her sides and he began tickling her, lips still attached and keeping her from giggling aloud. She grabbed him and pulled him down on top of her. He stopped tickling and rested his head in the crook of her neck.

"I figured we needed some lightening up... this day got so serious, so fast," he said into her neck, muffled slightly. "Happy birthday, babe." Jezebel sat up suddenly, remembering Jay had dropped by just to see the front door swing swiftly closed. Her mouth popped open and she started toward the door, but then thought twice. She was completely oblivious as to why he stormed out, just because she and Bret had kissed. He was constantly being sexual with all kinds of girls in plain sight for all to see. But yet, there it was. Bret and she had kissed.

She moved the curtain away from the window just in time to see Jay disappear at the bottom of the stairs in a flash of blonde. "Great…" she mumbled.

Most of the following week passed. Jezebel spent the majority of her time at the apartment or Peggy's house, where Ms. Oki basically treated her like Peggy's younger sister, even going so far as to scold Jezebel and Peggy equally for their dabblings in what she termed 'extreme sports'. They would surf every morning, bright and early, but not at the Cove. Tony, Stacy, Sid, and even Red Dog, who had gotten over his initial protectiveness over Jezebel, visited Bret's apartment occasionally, but no one could get her out of the sullen funk into which she seemed to have fallen.

In reality, this was just another cycle she went through with her depression, but no one else knew intricately about those struggles except Jay. And that was only because she told him everything; he probably knew her better than she knew herself. Skip called every couple days to check in with his kid; he wasn't heartless, he really did love her, just didn't know how to deal with a teenage daughter. He'd never learned to braid hair, talk about boys, or pick out dresses when they went shopping, and he always suggested items in which she could be active when they weren't getting clothes as hand-me-downs from the boys' parents or charity shops. So he tried to show his love in other ways, like checking in on her frequently and giving her a love of the sports he also enjoyed.

Jay did not visit, and in fact seemed to fall off the face of the earth for a few days at a time. He'd appeared mid-week to skate practice, but not much more, and no one had any idea into what kind of situation he'd gotten himself. Jezebel had been slightly angry at this sudden disappearance and attitude change, as he was usually understanding. He'd sometimes help her process emotions by talking her through them, or alternatively distract her by doing something outrageous; now, he was being weird.

Thursday evening, the phone rang in the kitchen, and Bret answered. "Hullo?"

Skip was on the other end of the line. "Yeah, uh, hi… Bret, canya bring my girl up to Zephyr? I kinda got somethin' goin' on here at the shop and she should be here."

There was a long pause as Bret pondered the distance between his apartment and the shop. It wasn't really far, but he didn't think Jezebel would be up for a long walk, or even skating. And he sure as hell didn't want to negotiate with that rickety old bike. It was unseasonably cool this afternoon; it wasn't uncomfortable, but there was a definite chill in the air. He hesitated a moment before answering, "Sure, Skip… can you send somebody though, with a car maybe?"

"Hold on…" there was a cacophony of muffled sounds on the line while Skip put his hand over the phone, and Bret could just barely hear his hollering at someone in the background. "Uh, yeah, look fer the yellow Le Baron…five minutes."

"Got it. We'll be here."

After a ten-minute wait due to atrocious afternoon traffic, the car appeared in the parking lot. Bret spotted it, gesturing for Jezebel to follow him with a tug on her sleeve. "C'mon."

When they landed at the bottom of the stairs, Stacy was opening the drivers' side door and climbing out. "What is this?" She asked as she approached the car and Stacy walked in long strides around the car to open the passenger side.

"Skip's got some kinda announcement. Something team-related, I think?" Stacy answered cryptically as Jezebel slid into the front seat and Bret opened the back door to climb in as well.

"Great, so we're all here then. Let's go!" The blonde announced awkwardly. Jezebel shook her head at him, a small smile playing across her lips. Stacy drove away, and Jez turned her head to look at him. "Stacy?" She questioned, pausing.

"What's up, Bel?" He answered conversationally, keeping his eyes safely on the road. Bret sat in the back seat, looking back and forth between the awkward friends.

"You heard from Jay at all this week? I'm kinda pissed he seems like he's been avoiding me…" she turned to look out the window. They were quickly coming upon the shop, and she knew it. Stacy pulled his car to a stop in front of Zephyr, but didn't turn it off. The melancholy sounds of 'Tuesday's Gone' were pulling to a close.

"Tuesday's gone with the wind; Tuesday's gone with the wind. Tuesday's gone with the wind; my baby's gone, with the wind…" Ronnie Van Zant's eerily whiny voice drifted through the car as Stacy continued to hesitate.

"Peralta, tell me," she pushed, crossing her arms.

"He's avoiding everyone, pretty much. I saw him yesterday though – last night, actually," Stacy confessed.

"And…?" Another pause, in which Jezebel physically reached over and tugged on a shorter piece of his long hair. "Dude. Fucking tell me. I can take it," she answered. Jay was just her older brother, her best friend, nothing more.

"Jay-and-Kathy-were-together-last-night-at-Tony's-party," Stacy answered in one long breath.

"…Kathy? Jay? Stacy, what are you talking about – Kathy is your girlfriend…" she trailed, dumbfounded.

"Apparently not anymore," he answered sullenly. "He gave me some bullshit about how I couldn't 'handle' her, like she's some kind of… untamable wild animal. Like, what the fuck is that?"

Jezebel patted Stacy's shoulder wordlessly, trying to be understanding.

"That's brutal man, I'm sorry," Bret answered for Jezebel from the back seat, reaching his hand around to the front to put on Stacy's shoulder as well. Stacy glanced down at Bret's multiple rings he was wearing. "It's fine, I guess. Whatever," he answered, opening his door. The music shut off as they all piled out and entered Zephyr expectantly.

Jezebel looked around at the assemblage of friends and wondered what the hell her father had planned. Everyone gathered in the storefront, and Skip moved to lock the door and flip the sign to 'closed'.