i. The island has probably long disappeared from sight now, but still, she keeps her face nuzzled in the crook of his neck. She's not trying to hide from anything, anyway: this time, she left facing her home. The home she used to love so much, and that caused her more pain than she thought possible. The home that took everything from her.
Everything but him.
Their embrace is not the most comfortable, but Abby doesn't let go. Her hold's almost desperate, arms as tight as she can around him without causing more damage to his already broken body. She came back after seven years of absence and silence with a weight in her stomach and a heart painfully twisting on itself, fearing that after all this time, he'd resent her, hate her. She felt butterflies erupt when she first spotted him, waiting for her on the docks, felt her pulse quicken everytime they crossed paths and he threw her that smile, flirting shamelessly yet eyes as soft as she remembered. All through the week, her throat tightened at the idea that after the wedding, she'd have to go back to L.A., when she couldn't imagine not seeing him everyday now that that was her reality again.
And then the nightmare began, and Abby felt, actually felt her heart break into pieces as she watched the marina explode. Once more later, when Henry ran after her, claiming that the boy she'd loved since she was fifteen was killed in the church where she left him alone with a murderer, the pain just as blinding. Twice, the Wakefields almost took him from her.
Shuddering, she nustles even closer. He smells of sweat, smoke and exhaustion, his skin is warm under her fingertips, and he's alive. For the third time that day, and with more force than ever now that the adrenaline is wearing off and that she begins to realize what just happened to them, a wave of relief hits her.
Jimmy's alive, and he's here, safe, in her arms.
The reality of what they just went through, the amount of loss, all of that will hit soon enough - hard, too. She knows that all too well. But for now, as the rescue boat makes its way to Seattle, water splashing in its wake, Jimmy's gentle touch on her back and the sound of his precious, calming breath in her ear, Abby's okay for the first time in a long, long while.
ii. Burns, cuts, dehydration, bruised ribs, a broken wrist and a slight concussion. Technically not the best thing you could hear, but considering, there's no denying that's the best diagnosis he could have hoped for.
Besides, physically, she's okay, and that's the only thing he needed to hear, anyway. Abby's okay.
Shit, but he's never been so scared of anything in his life than he was of losing her these past few days, over and over.
By the time they got to Seattle, the sun had set, the night settling in with a slight chill. He's not sure what he expected, and then realized he wasn't expecting much at all, his mind in a dazy, relieved sort of haze for the whole boatride. Abby's body was wrapped around his broken one, her calm respiration soothing against the skin of his neck, and he just - that's all he was aware of there, for a while. Abby.
But then they docked, and even though there were only a handful of people there waiting for them, it was a bit of an electrochoc, setting foot on the mainland, strangers' faces surrounding them.
They were back to civilization. He almost forgot that there was anything else, his body and mind in full survival mode for what seemed an eternity, but here they were: back in the real world. Somehow, the nightmare was over. He met her eyes, then, and it was easy to read that she was feeling exactly the same thing.
She absolutely refused to leave his side when they tried to put her in another ambulance, and no one argued with her. He vaguely wondered how much people knew, their careful, almost pitying glances clearly indicating that they had at least some idea of what had happened, but he didn't care enough to linger much on it. Abby's fingers threading through his hair the whole drive was the only thing he could - and wanted to - focus on, anyway.
As irrational as it was, borderline stupid, really, he got nervous when they were told they were going to get separated while they got examined, and scanned, the whole shabang. Downright scared, actually. Again, one look at her and he knew he wasn't the only one trying to breathe through an elevating heartbeat, and it only made it worse, because damn it, that was just enough - she'd been through enough, and he never wanted to see that fear in her eyes again, not ever.
God, he hated Henry Dunn.
But she's strong, his Abby, always has been, and so she'd only smiled at him, putting on a brave face, and left a small kiss on his chapped lips. "It's okay - I'll see you in a bit, okay?" He heard her ask the nurse to be gentle with him as they rolled him away, and the impossible happened yet again: he fell even more in love with Abby Mills.
Somewhere, Shane was groaning and rolling his eyes at the thought, and the smile it brought him left room to something much less pleasant real quick. Jimmy was grateful for his nurse - Anne, her tag read - interrupting his thoughts at the very second it did.
Now, hours later, all cleaned up and bandaged up, Jimmy does his best to keep his face neutral despite the sharp pain in his ribs as he moves over and Abby slides her small frame against him. She wraps her arm around his waist, settles her head back in the crook of his neck so naturally, as if it's been their routine for years, and it's all the invitation he needs to drap his good arm around her and bring her as close as humanly possible. When he does, her small sigh of content relief covers his own.
He's well aware that that's probably a one shot, powered by the sudden drop of adrenalin, their bodies and minds not having absorbed all that shock yet. The sheer exhaustion of those days without sleep, except the one brought by being knocked out, from explosions or otherwise. He knows eventually, probably sooner rather than later, the nightmares will come to haunt them. But tonight at least, they both immediately fall into a somehow peaceful sleep.
iii. Their short stay at the hospital is not exactly a restful one. Special circumstances, she supposes.
'The Harper's Island massacre.' That's what they're calling it in the news. They're the miraculous, surprising additional survivors of the Harper's Island massacre, and the morbid title is already clinging to them. In the curious eyes of the other patients, the whispers outside their room. The sympathetic smiles and tones of the doctors. In the presence of the FBI, that first morning after.
After the loss of family, friends, neighbors she'd known her whole life. Of home, again. Of life as she - they - knew it.
God, did this actually happen?
When she opened her eyes this morning, there was that second - that second where your brain is slowly rebooting, and you emerge progressively, lazily becoming aware of your surroundings. In that second, Abby forgot. She was warm, comfortable, a ray of sunshine was pleasantly tickling her nose, a heavy, comforting other body around her, and she just…didn't remember yet.
It didn't last, but she tried to keep what she guessed to be the beginning of a panic attack silent. After a while, the sight of Jimmy's peaceful face, eyes still closed and chest slowly moving up and down beneath her hand, made it easier to breathe properly. He's okay. You're okay - you're both okay.
She made sure not to wake him as she moved her fingers to examine the cuts on the side of his face, his chin, thinking once again how much that three days beard suited him. She missed that so much all these years - being able to touch him. Seeing his face, that insolent smirk. She missed him, period. Her heart had all but jumped out of her chest when she stepped off that boat to find him right there waiting for her, just like she always thought and hoped he would, but somehow even more handsome than she remembered.
The agents were already there by the time Jimmy woke up, but to be fair, they were not here to interrogate them - not yet, anyway. They wanted confirmation that Wakefield 'and any potential accomplice he may have had' was dead. That there was no one else left. To let them know that Shea and Madison made it, and were both okay. She's not sure how guilty they both look - after all, all Shea knew and probably told them was that Wakefield had had help, that they thought it was Jimmy at one point, and that was it. That must be all everyone knows so far, because that's all the surviving Wellingtons knew themselves. How could Shea ever suspect her perfect, heroic future brother-in-law could have anything to do with all that horror? No one could. No one did.
(In the back of her mind, though, there's a voice telling Abby that maybe, she could have. They were friends – they were the best of friends, and the child that she once was started all this, as unwillingly and unknowingly as it was, and -
Maybe she could have seen it. Should have.)
There's no interrogation just yet, but they have an appointment in their offices in a couple days. Jimmy should be discharged tomorrow, and they get handed an address to a downtown hotel that they'll also use for the time they will be asked to stay in Seattle, which will probably be a few days, from what they're told. She's not sure the FBI is always that considerate, but yet again - special circumstances, most likely.
A therapist comes to talk to them, too. Two different ones, actually. As surprised as she was to see the FBI and not the police, that, she could probably have seen coming.
"I was afraid you'd say no," Jimmy admits when they leave the room after informing them they'll come back in the afternoon for individual sessions, looking at her carefully. As much as he tries to hide it, the relief in his tone is unmistakable.
He doesn't have to worry, though - she won't fight it.
"I did. Last time, I did," she explains at his confused look. "I didn't see how talking to a complete stranger could help. I thought…how could they possibly begin to understand what it's like? How could talking about my mom hanging from a tree after hearing her last screams and seeing my father turn into a stranger change anything? I didn't even want to be in L.A., and I felt it was bad enough I had to - bad enough I had to leave what was left of my life behind."
To leave him, she doesn't say. He understands anyway.
Snuggling deeper in the uncomfortable chair by the side of his bed, Abby drops his gaze and shakes her head, focusing on the loose strand of her hospital gown. "I was so angry. And I chose to never talk about it, ever, and I was selfish and unfair -"
"Abby, you were seventeen and had just lived through hell -"
"That's no excuse for all the years that followed."
And here it is: here, in a hospital room, battered up after all their loved ones have been killed, their memories ruined, their lives turned to shreds, they're finally talking about it. It only took another bloodbath for them to finally address it.
Or rather, that's what it took for her to finally talk about it. He tried - since the very first night, he's been trying. If she had to guess, he probably tried long before that, too. But she refused to leave him any way to reach her, and so Jimmy couldn't, and the most gentle soul she knew started losing himself in sorrow and fights because of it.
Shame and regret come to join the whole circus of emotions she's experiencing, has been experiencing one and off, yet constantly for days now. Once again, Abby finds herself fleeing his intense yet soft gaze, way too gentle considering what she'd done to him. The worse thing is, to her dismay, she finds herself once again unable to do it - to find the words, to explain. To apologize, give him the discussion he's been running after, and she's yet to allow him.
They almost died, and she still can't -
"Hey." His fingers wrap around the ones he can reach, warm around hers. "It's okay. It is," he insists when she shakes her head, voice soft but firm. "It was a long time ago, and I don't blame you. We don't have to talk about that now."
The circles his thumb draws against her wrist are soothing. Comforting. More than she deserves, yet again.
"I'll go to therapy because I don't want to do that to you again," she quietly admits, so soft she's not even sure he hears her. But then she looks up at him, and it's clear he did.
Abby holds her head a little higher, wanting to make sure he knows she means it. "I don't want to shut down - I won't. And I don't want to do that to myself, either. I don't…I don't want to let this - let them ruin my entire life like Wakefield did the first time. In the aftermath, I was the one who did the most damage," she confesses, echoing the words she spoke to Trish in what seems like a lifetime ago.
Poor Trish, so gentle and full of life, of light, whose only crime was to fall in love with the wrong man, and trust him completely.
"I chose to shut you out, to pretend like I could survive all of this on my own. I won't do that again. And besides, I think…I think I need to understand his side, too. I mean, I know I'll have to go over there to talk about me, not just…him," she says, tentatively looking up at him as she realizes it's the first time they've mentioned him.
Jimmy just threads his fingers with hers, and her heart soars a bit at the never ending realization that she has him: he's alive, and he's here, with her. "But I need to understand how a mind can -" There, Abby stops mid-sentence, frowning. "Did he tell you why he did all of this?"
Now that she thinks about it, there's a real possibility that he did, but she can't be sure.
Jimmy shrugs, but the way his jaw tightens a bit isn't lost on her. "Not at first. At first, he just told me you were dead, just like everyone else. He made me think it was some sort of game. Described how he killed everyone: the reverend, JD. Shea's husband, Trish's step mom, Sully. He was smiling the whole time, describing how much…fun it was," he almost spits the words, face hardening. And then, crumbling despite his best efforts. "He told me Charlie died because of me - trying to save me. I'm sorry about your dad, Abby," he says, something like guilt tinting his voice.
She knows it won't always be this easy, but right now, it is frighteningly so, to hate what she thought was her best friend for what she did to Jimmy. To all of them.
Shaking her head, Abby smiles at him despite the heaviness on her chest at the mention of her father, and squeezes his fingers. "Wakefield was never going to let him live. He hated him - resented him because he was the one my mom chose." Just like he resented her for Sarah choosing her and not Henry.
"It wasn't your fault, Jimmy."
He just nods, clearly not convinced. "I know." He knows, but is having a hard time not feeling guilty, anyway. She can see it on his face.
Can relate to the feeling, too.
"After that, he just left me there waiting, saying he'll be back for me soon enough. But then you burst in," Jimmy smiles, something like awe in his eyes when they land on her again. "And then he came back and told me I was going to die anyway, but that if I signed a confession, he wouldn't touch you. And I think I started to understand then that it had never been just a game - that it was all about keeping you for himself."
The truth settles in the silence for a while. The unsettling one, the one neither of them ever saw coming, or can even begin to make sense of.
During all this time everyone thought the ever available, level headed and nice Henry Dunn made one half of the perfect couple with Trish, the golden boy was obsessed with his best friend. His half sister.
"When we were kids, I told him I wished he could stay there forever with me." Even her can hear the tremble in her own voice. "I don't remember, but - he told me, and I probably did."
"Hey, you don't have to tell me now if you're not ready."
Shaking her head, Abby wipes the lone tear that escaped off her cheek with her free hand. Focuses on his touch on her other, tries to smile. "No - no, I want to."
"Then I'm listening."
And so, she tells him. "Henry met Wakefield the day he killed my mom. Wakefield was going to kill him, but then they looked at each other, and he said there was a…connection." A shudder runs all through her body. "Wakefield let him go. And then a year later, he found Henry again, and told him he was his son, and that he'd been searching for him his whole life. All this time, I thought I grew up with him because our moms were close friends, but - I guess we know the real reason now. My mom gave Henry to the Dunns, and they came every summer so she could still see him."
Even now, even after everything, it all seems so…absurd.
"And then - then, Henry just…started killing with Wakefield. He said he'd always had impulses, and that when he met his father, it - God, Jimmy, how could I not see that? How could I - for years, he lied to me about Wakefield to my face, about his whole life - Our whole lives, he wanted to murder people, and I didn't see anything -"
"Abby, he was a sociopath - a literal sociopath. There's no way you, or anyone else for that matter, could have known if he didn't want you too. No one did know."
"But how is this even possible? I mean, we grew up with him, we saw him, we - he was the one I called when I needed to talk at three in the morning, when I felt alone. He knew almost everything about me, about my life - and I was convinced, convinced I knew everything about him. How could this even be the same person that killed all those people?"
Jimmy just squeezes her hand. "I know." There's not much else to say, really.
After a while, his voice rises again. "You know it's not your fault, right?"
Isn't it? "If I hadn't come back -"
"He made sure to do everything so you would. You said it yourself: he knew everything about you, he knew exactly how to do it. And if that didn't work, he would have found another way." Tugging a little at her hand, he makes her look up at him. "You could never have gone in the way of two sociopaths killers, Abby. Especially not when you didn't know they existed. You just couldn't." A statement, not a debate. "And I know it might be difficult to hear, especially so soon, but…I won't let you take any kind of responsibility for the acts of two sick minds."
He's looking straight at her, the burns still red on his neck, the cuts on his face finally tended to. Dark circles under the green eyes that made her teenage self swoon. Still do, really.
So tired and harmed in every way, and yet still making her the priority.
She loves him so much, she's not even sure how she went on for the past seven years.
"But he did it for me," she still says, because as much as rationally, she knows he's right, she doesn't want to lie to him about what she's feeling.
No more lies, ever. "They started killing together - Wakefield trained him, and they planned on avenging Wakefields by killing my father, and me, and I guess everyone we loved first. That was the plan - that was what Wakefield thought the plan was. But Henry…When we were kids, I told him I wished he could stay on the island with me forever," she says again. "And that's what Henry really wanted out of this. He…he told me the island and me were the only thing that made sense to him, and that he orchestrated all of this so there'll be only the two of us left. So we could both have what we always wanted. All of these murders, it was just…He told me he did it all for me, and that he had to make sacrifices, but that was all for my sake. He told me Wakefield wanted to kill you a long time ago, but he convinced him not to, for me and I mean, that fact alone - he knew how I felt about you, how I've always felt about you. He knew it didn't stop after I left, and I swear, nothing ever happened Jimmy - not a kiss, not a moment, or even a word, I… I've never given him a reason to think that I could ever love him this way, and I don't understand why he -"
"Abby, this is not about reason. I know it's hard to even comprehend that, but there's no reason, no rationality behind any of this - he was sick. Literally. And I'm not saying it's an excuse, because if I could, I'd -" He stops there just in time, reigning his rage in for her sake.
After a second, he continues, softer. "But you're not responsible for what a twisted murderer decided to do. You're just not. And I know it might take a while to accept it, but please tell me you at least know that."
Straightening up on her seat, Abby leans on the side of his bed, both elbows burrowing on the thin mattress. She brings their joined hands with her, kissing his before hugging them close to her chest, and leaning on them.
"I know. I just…I keep thinking that on some level, it is. That I should have seen something, that it'd be different if I did. I think it's going to take some time - some help before I really accept that that's not true," she admits honestly.
When she looks back at him, Jimmy's smiling at her in a way that makes her feel that maybe, just maybe, one day, she really could.
"It's okay. You have both."
iv. Two hotel rooms were booked in their respective names.
They end up using only one.
He's not sure, at first. Every cell in his body panics at the mere idea of not having her near him, even for a few hours, but even though, he can't say that to her. She probably needs her own space. Maybe he does, too, even if he sure as hell doesn't want it now - as far as he's concerned, he's been away from her long enough.
Still, he can't impose his constant presence on her, even though in the almost forty-eight hours they've been back on the mainland, they've barely been separated. Maybe because of it.
And so, when the desk man hands them their keys, the early afternoon sun shining way too bright behind him, Jimmy pockets his, and ignores the knot forming in his stomach. The elevator ride is silent, and it stings, when she unlocks her door on the third floor, giving him a small, shy smile before disappearing into her room and leaving him to finish the few meters left to his own, but he sucks it up.
The door's barely closed behind him that he already misses her. Shane was right: he really is pathetic.
Then again, he did just get her back after seven years only to think he lost her forever in a matter of days, so maybe he'll cut himself some slack on this one.
Half an hour later, he's just slipped into the clean sweatpant they left him after a shower that felt even better than the one at the hospital, almost good enough to wash the horrors of the past few days off of him, when he hears it. A knock so soft at first, Jimmy half thinks he's imagined it.
He's really glad he didn't.
"Do you always answer your door half naked?" For a second, the worry disappears from her perfect face, leaving place to a smirk he's so glad to see, it makes his heart miss a beat - and, he can't help but proudly notice, to an appreciative look at his chest that she tries and fails to cover. Again.
Tilting his head to the side, Jimmy leans against said door, switching to full flirting mode. "Only to you, Mills." Abby rolls his eyes, and he could cry from relief from that small moment of normalcy alone.
They can survive this. They will.
Her laugh leaves her eyes after a second, and she ties her hands together in front of her, ringling them nervously. She's just taken a shower, too, and her not completely dried hair falls into a hotel pajama set matching his that is hanging too big on her small frame.
All of the sudden, she looks so vulnerable, all he wants to do is wrap his arms around her, and never let go.
"I uh - I'm sorry to bother you-"
"You're not." Her big eyes look back up at him again, almost surprised, and he smiles as reassuringly as he can. Her own answering one is still not as secured as he would like, but she still continues.
"You can say no, but I was wondering…I was wondering if maybe I could stay with you?"
Oh, thank God.
He chuckles from relief, but when her eyes start to widen in panic, Jimmy realizes that she actually believes that there's a reality when he answers that question with a negative.
"Abby, the only reason I didn't beg you to stay with me is because I thought you may want some time to yourself."
She looks so reassured, it's almost funny.
With the beginning of a smile and eyes he's pretty sure he sees watering before they disappear from his sight, Abby throws her arms around his neck, and holds on tight. Pushing the door closed behind her, he does the same, and Jimmy realizes he can't quite put words on what it feels like, finally properly holding her here against him for the first time since…well, everything. It's over, it's finally over, and they're together, safe - just the two of them.
"I just want you," she whispers.
Well. That, she can have.
She always has.
Not caring one bit about the pain in his ribs, Jimmy buries his face in her curls, and holds her even closer.
v. The next morning, they're seating in front of the FBI, giving their respectives testimonies of what happened one after the other.
Oddly, Abby manages to relate everything with a certain kind of….distance. She's not sure she's realized the enormity of what happened, as if her brain hasn't completely processed it yet. Or maybe has, and is trying to protect her from it. It feels like she's telling a story, one that happened to somebody else. In another universe. Another reality. An absurd one.
When they pull out photos of Trish, and Cal, then Sully, and Malcolm, and then others she can't see because her vision gets blurry with tears, Abby breaks into sobs for the first time since they left Harper's island. They stop the pictures after that, and at least she doesn't have to see her dad's face.
She's not sure she could handle that just yet.
They also talk to therapists again, and then an officer who explains what's next, and by the time she's finally reunited with Jimmy again, free to go at last, the dam breaks once more and she throws herself in his open arms, and collapses in tears for the second time.
Surviving, she thinks, may turn out to be harder here than it was there.
vi. "What now?"
Now, they're stuck to Seattle for a bit while the FBI checks whatever they need checking. Jimmy's taken advantage of that time to fill whatever paperwork needs filling during the few hours of the day she can actually fall asleep. Nights are more complicated for now, so - days it is. He figures he can at least do that, since he's fucking powerless against whatever images have her frown, gasp or even scream in her sleep, every single time.
He hates, hates Henry Dunn.
She talks about them, though. Sure, it's only been two days since they've been out of the hospital, but he figures that's a good sign. She also asks him about his own nightmares, and she's right - not much, not enough yet, but…somehow, it helps.
(It's mostly reliving everything on loop, for both of them. Her dad hanging in front of her, Shane hanging at in the Cannery, Nicky at his feet. Marty cut in half, JD gutted. Chloe letting herself fall to death, Trish's lifeless body in her wedding gown.
Rewind and repeat.)
So, for now, that's their life: hours spent hidden in a hotel room, waiting, resetting. Trying to start healing, if that's even possible. Mostly, that's transcribed to watching endless hours of TV, Abby applying the stuff they gave him on his burns, whispered conversations cuddled close. Soft kisses and gentle gestures.
But of course, that's not what she's talking about.
Burying his head a little more into his pillow, Jimmy tries not to fall asleep as her fingers travel oh so gently on his face over and over again. The sun has just set, his body doesn't hurt as much, and he's warm - warm, and comfortable, with her so delightfully close as they face each other under the covers. He could get used to this.
"I don't know," he answers honestly. "We take it one day at a time, I guess. It'll probably take a while." He doesn't elaborate, but that's not exactly necessary.
From now on, there'll always be an understanding binding them like with no one else's, except maybe Shea and Maddison. Getting out of the same nightmare brings together your realities and ties them forever, no matter how different they were to begin with.
Accepting. Learning to live with it. Moving on from it. He didn't ask the shrinks directly, but it doesn't take a genius to know that that will probably take them a long, long while.
Abby nods on her pillow, fingers now combing his hair back distractingly, but eyes far away. He hates that this maniac did that to her.
Jimmy closes the small distance and pecks her nose to bring her back, smiling when her startled chocolate gaze meets his again. "I'm here, though." He means it as a joke, or at least not as solemnly as it comes out, as true as it is. He just doesn't want to assume that his role is bigger than what it actually is or something.
But she smiles back, then, and there's so much behind it - she's looking at him with something so clear that he thinks maybe, just maybe, he does help. Means to her as much as she does to him.
Her hand's on his face again, so small, so soft, and Abby shuffles closer and kisses him once, twice, with a desperation yet a tenderness that makes his skin tinkle. When she draws back to look at him, she looks as vulnerable as she did in that shed when they thought they'd have to say goodbye forever.
"I meant what I said back there, you know," she says as if reading his mind. "I didn't say it to piss him off, I…I really am sorry I left without a word, Jimmy. It's the biggest mistake I've ever made." Unshed tears gather in her eyes, and his heart is both exploding and splintering at the same time.
Everything in him screams at him to stop her - to reassure her, to tell her she doesn't need to do this. That he forgave the second he saw her again. But the look on her face clearly says that she does need it, and so Jimmy just squeezes her hip, and lets her continue.
Besides, maybe deep down, he needs to hear it, too. "I missed you every day. I thought about calling you every day," she echoes her own words, and even though he knows now - even though he's read between the lines, even though it was implied by what she thought were their last words to each other at the time, it still makes something expand in him…breathe, finally.
It meant something to her, too. He wasn't just a high school fling she'd forgotten about as soon as her new life started, so insignificant she didn't even take the time to end it properly. That thought, the one that occupied every minute of every day….it drove him mad with pain.
But he did, does, mean something.
"I dialed your number so many times. I wrote letters, too, but I never had the courage to send them. I even booked a flight back home once, but I just -" She sighs, frustrated with herself, before focusing back on him. "I really am sorry, Jimmy."
And then - "I love you. I'm sorry it took me so long to tell you."
There's that feeling, when something so life shifting happens, you know as it's unfolding you're going to remember every single detail of it for the rest of your life. He'd know, by now. And this, right here - the soft light, her bangs falling a bit over her glistening eyes, the feel of her cotton shirt under his hand, the feel of her fingertips on his skin. Her heartbeat, right against his.
This is one of those moments for him.
She's right - it is the first time she's ever said it. She looks sick with remorse over it, but the truth is, Jimmy can honestly say it was worth the wait, because that's the best fucking thing he's ever heard.
"I thought I lost you, and I had never told you."
He can almost hear her heart break, sees it on her crestfallen face, and so Jimmy kisses every inch of it that he can, drying the tears that are now freely running down her cheeks and whispering words he hopes can soothe her remorse.
"You didn't lose me, Abby. I'm right here," he says again, the tip of his nose nudging hers.
He can feel his heart speed a little with fear, for some reason, before his next words. Probably, he thinks vaguely, because he's never said it either. Not like this.
"I love you."
It may be the first time, but here in this bed as the girl of his dreams clings to him and smiles a smile that makes something twirls inside of him, Jimmy swears to himself that from now on, he'll remind her of just how in love with her he is every chance he gets.
(He will never know that, but over the years, he'll get to experience that at the exact same moment, Abby made that exact same promise to herself, too.)
vii. It seems surreal, to be standing here again. Stupid, even, even though technically, she supposes it was inevitable. If this was a movie, it would have probably ended with a shot of her and Jimmy driving off the island in the sunset, but…this is not a movie.
This is reality. Their reality.
Jimmy actually offered to do it by himself. Of course he did. All her mom - and at one point, her dad - could see in him was a wild card not taking things seriously, but the truth is, the main thing about him is and has always been that he's by far the kindest soul she's ever known.
She loves him even more for offering, but there's no world in which she leaves him to face this alone. None where she watches him go there again, all alone.
As if on cue, Jimmy appears next to her and mirrors her lean on the rail, arm grazing hers. In front of them, the outlines of their island get more defined by the second.
"You okay?"
"I don't know. You?"
"Never better." She turns her head to face his idiotic, irony-filled smile which manages to draw a chuckle out of her despite herself. Shaking her head at the proud look of his effect, she bumps his shoulder with hers.
The early morning air is a bit cold, despite the sun slowly making its way up in the sky. A sun that's almost out of place, given the circumstances. It's odd, to think the world - the universe - is continuing to turn as if nothing happened.
"Today's really going to suck, isn't it?"
"Sure is."
"Promise you'll stay with me?" The question is out before she even realizes it.
She wishes her voice didn't sound so broken.
But next to her, Jimmy just leans a little more against her, and gives her one of his softest smiles. "Always."
And it's hard on him too, of course. She sees it in the small sigh he releases as they deck when he thinks she's not looking. The tension in his shoulders. The way his jaw tightens as they walk through the marina, where he used to spend most of his days, where he worked on his boat with Shane. When Abby slips her fingers between his and holds on tight, startling him out of his own thoughts, it takes him a second for his gaze to focus again, and to give her another smile.
Giving her hand a squeeze, he keeps on walking.
There's people. It was probably stupid of her to think there wouldn't be - people lived there, still do, and it's not like everyone would or could just drop everything and go. But with the town empty while all the nightmare unrolled, and everything built around their little wedding party, she just…forgot.
Still, it feels weird. To see them, to see life. A few people nod at Jimmy from afar, but no one comes to talk to them, and she's selfishly grateful for it.
Her dad's…her dad's funeral is in the afternoon, so they have time to go to his house and Jimmy's before. They talked about it, but in the end, she couldn't see her dad wanting anything else than being buried next to her mom, so - Harper's island it is. Her hands shake the entire time they're in her family home. It's the last time she will ever set foot in it, but she feels she's suffocating a bit more with every second, and so she tries not to feel, not to linger, and to keep her head as straight as she can.
She takes photographs and photo albums without looking at them - not yet - grateful when Jimmy packs them silently, always just one reassuring step behind her. Some of her mom's stuff. Important papers. Her dad's baseball cap and leather jacket. Her childhood's blanket.
She only realizes she's crying when Jimmy gently pries her own bag out of her hands to put it down and wraps his arms around her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear while the worse past, and her tears dry.
At his house, they pack his clothes, everything he wants to leave with. He's lived on this island all his life, and now…now, that life is being taken from him.
While he busies himself gathering everything, Abby makes her way through his living room. She hadn't looked around that much when she came to him that night, but now, she can, and does with a curious eye. She'd spent most of her time away wondering how he was doing. How his life turned out, what his adult home would look like. It's not far from what she pictured. The place screams Jimmy, even in the details - the wood, the colors. The darts on the wall, the fishing gear by the door.
She picks up a photo album which has probably not been opened in a while, given the amount of dust over it. His relationship with his family's never really been easy - still isn't, based on the fact that they didn't even reach out after he came back from the dead. She didn't push when she asked and he said he didn't want to see them while they were on the island, but still - she picks up the album to bring with them.
She grabs a miniature boat, too, the one she knows he's built when they were kids. A few DVDs she knows to be his favorite, or at least were, back then. He's always loved movies. In the kitchen, there's a picture of him and Shane on the fridge, and she takes that, too. She then empties it, because it seems like the rational thing to do, and then she goes back to look for him.
They'll get help to empty and clean those places, and then eventually, one day, one day when all of this finally turns into a story like the first time, when the wounds will have started to heal, and people think of this island other than one where blood was shed, and will want to come back and enjoy all it has to offer - one day, they'll sell them. They'll sell their homes, and they won't have any ties left with the island that saw them grow. Maybe it will hurt less too, then.
But for now, Abby finds him sitting on the floor next to his bed, papers scattered around him as he tries to figure out how to leave his home forever without even having had time to process the trauma that's been thrust upon him barely a few days ago.
Once again, it hits her, how unfair it all is. Unfair that he, like many others, were dragged into something they didn't have anything to do with.
She smiles when he looks up at her, his lips quirking up when his eyes land on her before focusing back on what's in front of him. Abby goes to sit next to him, amazed at the comfort the small squeeze he gives her knee alone brings her. She snuggles as close to him as she can, and watches him move papers around in different piles.
"I'm sorry," she apologizes after a while, and he turns his focus on her.
"About what?"
"That you have to leave your whole life behind like that."
Jimmy just shrugs. "That's not your fault."
"I know. I'm still sorry."
"Yeah, it sucks. The island's not my whole life, though," and Abby feels her heart skip a beat at the look he gives her at that.
"Are you really sure? About coming with me - about L.A.," she explains at his confusion, which then turns into concerned confusion.
Smiling as best as she can despite the worry eating at her insides, Abby leans in and brushes her lips against his. "I want you to," she says to clear any misplaced doubt, looking into his eyes to make sure he understands just how much she means it. "I don't think there's anything I want more."
It's ridiculous, what it's taken for her to finally admit that particular truth.
"It's just…I'm just afraid you'll regret it or something. I mean, I've been there seven years and it still doesn't feel like home."
"That's because I wasn't there," he says to lighten the mood, trademark smirk on, and her smile gets a little wider.
"That's true. But you know what I mean: it's just so different from here. And you've never even been, and I know you've never wanted to live in a big city or anything, so I just…I guess I'm just worried I'm forcing you into a decision you'll regret."
A life, with her, that he'll regret.
He's quick to put her worries to sleep, though.
"Abby, you're not forcing me into anything. I would have gone anywhere with you in the first place, but now…"
Shaking his head, Jimmy looks around his room. Gets lost in his own thoughts for a second. "This place can never be home again. Not after everything that happened, not - not with so many people gone."
Shane, Nikki. Her dad, Kelly, the police officers, Maggy - everyone he grew up around, gone.
Abby gently squeezes his arm, drops a soft kiss there. After a moment, Jimmy looks back at her. "There's nothing left for me here. I want to go with you."
Nodding, Abby starts combing his hair back the way she noticed soothes him a bit. "How can I make this easier for you?"
"Let me crash at your place?", and she chuckles.
"Deal. Actually, I've already found some things here to decorate it," she says, pulling out the photo of him and Shane. Beers in hand, they're posing on the Sea Jay, on what she assumed must be the day Jimmy first got it, which he confirms. "I've got a great frame in the living room for that," she promises softly, letting him take the picture from her.
Chin on his shoulder, she watches him with an aching heart as he swallows hard, trying to hold everything in. "I'm really sorry about Shane," she whispers eventually, because she hasn't yet.
Shane's never liked her - hated her, for the past few years -, and she'd never liked him, but she knows he really did care about Jimmy. He was an ass, but no matter what, he had his back, and for that, Abby would always be grateful to him.
"It's just - hard to realize you'll never see somebody again, you know."
Pushing herself up just enough to drop a kiss on his battered cheek, Abby leans her head on his shoulder, and draws gentle circles on the exposed skin of his neck.
"I know."
viii. When they arrive back at the hotel, exhausted and emotional, the FBI is waiting for them to let them know they're now allowed to have contact with the other survivors, and to leave Seattle when they wish to. They also inform them that Shea's already asked for a means to get in touch with them.
One look at her, and Jimmy knows that that particular information couldn't have come at a worse time.
"Does she know?" Her shoulders are tense, and although she does her best to hide it, he can see the panic in her eyes. Hear it in the slight tremble of her voice. "I mean - does she know what really happened?"
Henry's name is not uttered, but has never been more loud.
"She does."
The agent keeps talking after that, and she nods, but Jimmy knows she's not listening anymore so he steps in, hoping with all he has that this won't take much longer. He can see her hide her trembling fingers by crossing her arms in his peripheral vision, and slides just a little to the right to step in front of her, making sure his arm's in contact with hers somehow.
By the time they're gone and the hotel door closed behind them, she still hasn't said another word.
"Abby, she won't blame you."
As soon as those ones leave his mouth, everything in her body language lets Jimmy know what's about to happen.
"You don't know that."
"I do. I can't begin to imagine how hard that must be for you, but everyone can see that this isn't -"
"Please stop saying this isn't my fault."
He won't. He'll never stop reminding until she fully accepts it, even if it takes him the rest of his life. But right now, as she turns to him, tired eyes sending daggers and her entire body shaking, Jimmy just lets her do what she needs to - explode.
And explode she does. "Don't you understand? This is my fault - he may have been sick, and a sociopath but the truth is, if it wasn't for me - if I hadn't come back, none of that would have happened. If I hadn't existed, all those people would still be here."
She's crying angry tears now, hands in her hair, and it takes everything he has not to close the distance between them.
"She lost everything - her father, her husband, her sister. She lost everything, and Maddison will be traumatized for life, and that's all because I decided to attend that damn wedding, so don't tell me she won't blame me, Jimmy, because there's no else she can blame -"
"Abby -"
"It's all my fault!"
Before he's even taken one step, Abby flies past him, and slams the door of his room behind her, leaving him alone with the sounds of her sobs echoing down the hall.
ix. It takes her a minute to comprehend where she is.
Eyes half open, she can make out her luggage opened at the end of the bedroom - her bedroom, she somehow realizes. She's warm, although she hasn't slipped under the covers, and turns her head to find the hotel comforter she doesn't remember grabbing neatly draped around her.
No sunlight is coming through between the closed curtains, so night must have fallen. The door is slightly cracked open though, and the light of the living room area is coming through. A look at the clock tells her she's slept three whole hours, soundly. Blacked out.
As she slowly gets her bearings, everything comes back to her all at once like a bad headrush, and suddenly, it feels like all the air has left the room.
Jimmy's gone. She yelled at him, yelled at him on the worst possible day when he was only trying to help and left, and now - now, he's probably left the hotel already, if not Seattle altogether. He'd be right to - after all, she kept giving him reasons to, for seven years straight, and he should, really.
The only thing is now, she can't breathe.
Getting up on wobbly legs, Abby tells herself that rationally, there's still a chance he might still be in his own room, and she could try and go see him, try to apologize. She's not sure she could take the silence and the sight of his empty room if he's already left, though. If he chooses not to open his door.
Breathing more and more heavy, Abby's almost to the bedroom door when she realizes there's a faint buzz coming from the TV there. Distinct, now that she focuses, although not loud enough for her to hear what's being said. Not loud enough to wake her.
When she finally opens it, the screen comes into view, Forrest Gump sitting on the bench in one of the famous scenes of the movie, and seated at the table is Jimmy, all showered up in pajama pants and a clean shirt, one leg underneath him and an eternal sea of paper scattered in front of him. His hair's still damp, his face scrunched up in concentration.
He's beautiful. So beautiful, and here - he's here.
She must make a noise, because suddenly he's looking up at her, a smile immediately growing for her. It doesn't last, though, quickly replaced by worry, and that's when Abby realizes she's shaking.
In three strides, Jimmy's up and in front of her, wrapping her in his arms. And just like that, she can start breathing properly again.
"You're here," she mumbles in his neck, fingers gripping weakly at the front of his shirt. He smells of soap, and Jimmy, and home, and just like when she went to see him after Trish's bachelorette party, just like every time he holds her, Abby feels safe.
"Yeah. I thought you wouldn't like to wake up alone, but I can - "
She frees her arms just enough to drape them around his neck and keep him close, and Jimmy gets the message, and doesn't finish his sentence.
"I yelled, and you're still here." She's starting to cry now, full on sobbing, even, and - God, she's so sick of crying all the time. Of leaving him with the task of putting her back together every time, but…she can't stop it.
She's so relieved, and grateful, and tired, and sad, and she can't stop. "I'm sorry I'm so horrible. I'm so sorry, Jimmy."
"Abby…" His hand's warm on her nape, and he holds her even closer, swinging them soothingly for a while before backing away just enough to look at her, big hands framing her face.
That killer smile is back, as gentle as ever. "I'm not going anywhere," he promises, thumbs gently wiping her tears away. "I swear. I don't want to, and I won't," and that makes her cry even harder.
Jesus.
She's just a pale mess of tears and snot at this point, but Jimmy kisses her full on the lips anyway - and then on her forehead, and then he's looking at her again, green eyes soft but serious. "It's not even been a week yet. We've barely slept - you slept three hours last night and then we went back there, emptied your parents' house and buried your dad, all in the same day. You're not horrible, Abby," he says, not leaving any room for discussion. "You're just living a really shitty time, okay? "
Her only response is to bring him back against her again, and not let go.
x. He hates L.A.
To be fair, he's not sure if he hates A/ Los Angeles itself, B/ Life in a huge city or C/ Life in a place where everything and everyone's foreign to him. Probably all the above, mixed with a healthy dose of D/ New life starting from scratch after escaping a couple of deranged serial killers who destroyed everything he's ever known or loved, with one single noticeable exception.
Also, the lack of sleep is really starting to take a toll on him.
It's not all bad. Abby's neighborhood's pretty calm and not that far from the beach. He's always been a dog guy, but the cat's okay, and doesn't seem to mind him that much, even if he's certainly not his number one fan, either. His therapist doesn't suck, and Jimmy actually feels better when he gets out of there every couple of days (not always immediately after - sometimes, he needs to just walk around to clear his head and keep himself from punching something first, but…it does help). The change of scenery also has its advantages, as brutal as it can be in certain (most) aspects.
And of course, there's Abby. He's not sure how he'd even stay sane, if it wasn't for her. Truth be told, now that he has her back, he's not sure how he made it seven years without her, either.
(She'd told him one night, one of their first here, that she was afraid she wouldn't live up to his expectations. That all these years, he may have made or entertained a certain vision of her in his head that just wasn't her.
He'd understood. Frankly, he felt the same thing, and her face at that admission was comically outraged. "How can you think that?" she'd asked. How could she?
After that, they'd pretty much agreed on stopping themselves to think that way, especially considering the fact that they had a fair share of shit to deal with already without adding that to the list, thank you very much.
So, she'd just kissed him, hard, and proceeded to kick his ass during what was possibly the most humiliating game of darts he'd ever played, and that was that.
Shane would beat him up for even thinking this, but the moment Abby got off that boat after those seven years of hell, Jimmy just felt - complete. And now, with each passing day, he gets the confirmation that without her, he'd never be again.)
Abby's here, and there's nowhere else he'd want to be then here with her, and most days, life's not that bad, especially considering it's always been a few weeks since everything went down. Still, he misses life before that. His life.
He misses Shane and his constant complaining. He misses having a beer at the Cannery after work, the sound of the jukebox, pool games and Nikki's voice in the background. He misses fishing in the morning, making his rounds all over the island afterwards. He misses disappearing on his boat or in the forest whenever he wants to. He misses Charlie. It's almost ironic, how much the man turned into a father figure for him in the last seven years, but he did. Jimmy's not sure where he'd be now without him.
He knows he just needs to get back in the swing of things. Abby's gotten back to work last week, and he's already looking for something, too. (Of course, between the assurance for his boat, his trunk, the sale of both their houses at some point and mostly, because of Shea Welington, money won't be a problem for a long, long while. They'd both immediately start arguing back when she handed them both envelopes containing checks with a number of zeros that neither of them had probably held before, but it was no use.
"Please, just - I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable, or pretend like money will help with any of this. But frankly, I already had more than I needed to begin with, and inheriting my father's, my husband's…my little sister's."
Jimmy had pretended not to see the single tear that fell over her blushed cheek, her red lips shaking slightly.
Abby was right: she lost everything, too.
Squaring her shoulders back, she'd look back at them, head high. "It's just too much of it for Maddison and I, and if that can ease your lives in any way, well - at least there will be that. You went alone into an underground maze to find my daughter," she told Abby before she could protest, then turned to him, "and you gave us your only weapon to protect ourselves when Wakefield escaped from his cell. I haven't said it yet, but…thank you."
"Shea, you really don't need to - "
With a soft yet firm hand over hers, one that didn't leave any room for argument, Shea'd smiled at Abby.
"Please just take it. And try to recover from this nightmare - that's all either of us can do, now.")
So no, he doesn't exactly need the money, but he needs a new normal. It's not like Jimmy's ever been good at staying idle, anyway, but he knows he needs a rhythm, something to focus on, to build his day around. Deep down, he knows that all of this will come together, and that with time, things will get better.
That's the thing, though. It'll take time, and until then, well - life really fucking sucks, sometimes.
As if on cue, his cellphone rings, temporarily chasing the images in his head and the tears threatening to rise in his throat. The name on the screen instantly makes things a little better.
"Miss me already?" He can almost hear her roll her eyes at the other end of the line.
"Yes, because you're that irresistible."
"I know - it's a problem, to be honest."
"I'm sure. What are you up to?"
"Just walking around. I needed to clear my head a bit."
"Are you okay?" and Jimmy smiles at the concern in her voice.
"Yeah, don't worry. I'm good."
"You sure? Because I can -"
"Abby, I swear: I'm fine." He can picture her little worried pout, far too adorable. "I promise. How about you? Everything okay?"
"Yeah," she sighs, sounding a bit tired. "I mean, busy morning, but I'm almost done with my article, so this afternoon should be fine. That's actually why I'm calling."
If Jimmy was feeling paranoid, he'd say she sounded almost…nervous.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. What do you say I pick you up around four? There's something I want to show you."
"Clocking out early on a Thursday, huh. Abby Mills, are you taking me out for a long weekend?" He can hear her smile matching his own.
"Maybe. So?"
"Can I drive?"
"Fine," and his smirk grows even wider. "I'll pick you up at the apartment then? Prepare a change of clothes and stuff."
"So you are taking me on a long weekend. Is it awfully romantic?"
"Bye, Jimmy."
Four hours later and they're hitting the road, her cheeky smile very much on as she refuses to tell him where they're going. Jimmy decides she's really cute, when she's proud of herself. A couple more (including an endless traffic that almost manages to drive him crazy for good) and they're standing in the Angeles National Forest. It's - breathtaking.
The spot is a bit isolated from the others they've passed, and is looking over a hell of a view of the rest of the park - mountain after mountain, with the sun slowly starting to set right in the middle. Trees are everywhere around them, in front of them, as far as the eye can see. After three weeks in L.A., it's like a breath of fresh air.
"Thought we could use a breather," she says next to him, and Jimmy wonders if she really can read his mind. He turns his head to look at her, gorgeous with this light bouncing off her face, his throat a little dry by the overwhelming everything of the moment, and that's when he clocks something he hadn't noticed before a little further behind her.
When he looks back at her, her cheeks are turning adorably pink.
That girl is so, so out of his league.
"My friend Claire runs the site, so she sets us up," she starts rambling, no doubt mistaking his stunned silence for something else. "I know it's not been easy, adjusting to the city, so I just thought…And I know I should probably have told you - ask you - about the camping part before," she gestures behind her towards the massive tent and small campsite ready, without looking at it.
Or at him, for that matter. "Obviously, it doesn't have to be - it doesn't have to be like that, but I just thought, maybe -"
But his lips are on hers before she can try to piece whatever ending to that sentence she was heading towards. He's smiling so hard, and soon enough, he can feel her own smile grow underneath both his hands framing her face - against his lips, as hers kiss him back with more than a little enthusiasm. He can feel it underneath his skin, in his whole body.
He's not sure how long they stay like this, making out like when they were fifteen and sneaking out behind the school, but when they finally pull apart for air, she's giggling, actually giggling, arms around his neck and fingers making a mess of his hair, and Jimmy's pretty sure he's never known a moment as perfect as this one.
Although if he had to guess, even this one might be topped pretty soon.
"So you're okay with it?" she still asks, voice a little unsure.
Despite the fact that they'd been sharing a bed every night since they got off the island a month ago, they hadn't done anything - not yet. His whole body was fucked up for a moment there, and it wasn't exactly the time or the mood for a while. And then, well - there wasn't exactly a book on how long to wait before having sex with your high school sweetheart after seven years apart and surviving a rampage.
To say he hadn't thought about it would be a lie, and cold showers were becoming painfully regular by now, but he didn't want to, still doesn't want to, push her.
But right now, Abby's looking at him with so much love and hope in her chocolate eyes, he's pretty sure he has the answer to his own question before he even asks it.
Closing the small distance between them, he pecks her lips again once, twice, just because he can. Waits for her to open her eyes again, taking maybe a little too much pride in the way it takes her a few seconds to do so, and even then, she's still a little dazed when she finally does.
"Are you?"
Abby just kisses him in response.
"Come on," she says, struggling to tame down her smile as she drags him by the hand towards the site. "We have to make the fire and everything, and by 'we', I mean 'you'."
Grinning like an idiot, Jimmy's more than happy to follow.
xi. Slowly, then all at once, times start to fly by. Almost frighteningly so, really.
It's not that their lives go back to normal. For one, it's a new one anyway, one together, as adults, doubled down in his case by one with new everything, him who lost everything from his previous one. And no matter what comes next, there'll probably be no 'normal' ever again. Not really. She doubts she'll ever be able to attend a wedding without feeling sick, or that Jimmy will ever fully stop being on his guard whenever someone new enters her life.
They will always be the survivors of the Harper's Island massacre, with everything that it implies.
But it turns out that with distance, and time - and hours and hours of therapy, and difficult conversations, and endless tears - eventually, you move on, because that's just how things go. It's terrible, and yet poetic too, somehow: eventually, everything will pass, everything will be overcome, not necessarily because you want it badly enough or are so resilient, you make it happen, but just because…that's how life works. It moves on, and it doesn't give you a choice: you just move along with it.
Not that she's complaining. But the truth is, sometimes, despite all the work she's done - despite all their talks, the ones they still have now - Abby still feels guilty. Not so much for causing it, because she's pretty much accepted that she can't bear that responsibility, but -
For surviving, when so many others didn't.
For taking someone's life, even if she'll do it again to save Jimmy's.
For the part of her that still feels sorry for the part of Henry that truly was her friend, when he orchestrated the massacre of twenty-five people who loved and trusted him. She struggled a lot with that - still does, although it's getting better -, even hesitated to tell Jimmy at first, afraid that he wouldn't understand. That it might even hurt him. Henry destroyed everything that they had ever known and loved, and here she was, feeling pity for him. A part of him, anyway.
For being happy. Of course, they still have their survivor issues on top of the average person's problems, and everything's far from being perfect or easy every day, but Abby's come to realize…Every time she wakes up to Jimmy's face right next to her, mouth slightly open, or he laughs so hard his stomach hurts, head thrown back and eyes shut closed. Every time he slips his hand in hers distractingly while they're walking, keeping on talking without even realizing he's done it. Times like yesterday, when she handed over the article that'd been kicking her ass for the past two weeks, pride of herself, only to come home to him and the cat both passed out on the couch, Simba half spread out on Jimmy's face. These two really started to get along, these past few months.
She's happy. Happier than she was before, if she's honest, and sometimes, it's hard not to feel bad about that.
"You're happy in spite of what happened," her shrink had said. "Not because of the consequences of it. Those are two different things, and there's nothing to be ashamed or feeling guilty about. Life goes on."
It does. It did, and before she knows it, it's been a whole year. She can't quite wrap her head around it.
A year ago, they survived the worst week of their lives, and they made it out alive.
When she answers, Abby's not exactly surprised to hear her voice at the other end of the line. Shea clocks it and tells her so, and Abby smiles. "I was actually thinking of calling you, too. I just didn't know if it would be…"
"Weird?"
"Yeah."
"Yes, I thought the same. I hope I'm not imposing. I can -", but Abby's already shaking her head, before realizing Shea can't see her.
"No no no - on the contrary. I'm really glad you called." She is. Although now that they're actually talking, she's not sure what to say. "How - how have you guys been?"
"Good." Her tone betrays that she's anything but, today at least, but Abby pretends not to notice.
Shea proceeds to tell her all about Maddison, how complicated it's been for a while at school, where she kept talking about everything that happened on the island. They changed therapists twice, and it seems to go better now, although of course, only time will tell. Shea refused to go herself at first, until she broke into tears in the middle of her friend's living room when tea was served in a set which looked just like the family one she had shipped for her sister's bachelorette, and she decided it was enough. She's still not sure what she wants to do, now that she's not a full time rich wife anymore (her words). She's thinking about it, and in the meantime, she found the urge to get implicated in charities helping mistreated women.
She's honest. In her depiction of her struggles, her fears. Almost brutally so, but Abby doesn't mind. It's unspoken, but they both know they can only talk to each other this way without being met with shock, or embarrassment - in a way that will be understood. She never thought she'd have a special connection with Trish's bordering scary older sister who always looked at them with undisguised judgment whenever she caught them drunk on her father's yacht, yet here they are.
And so, Abby tells her, too.
How difficult it was at first, to only go on on a couple hours of sleep per night. The mood swings and roller coasters of emotions, even fights that came from it. She tells her how Jimmy still struggles to fall asleep, and she sometimes wakes up to find him having caught no rest at all. She tells her about her own nightmares. It's fascinating to her in a way, that even after a year, the recurring ones still have the same power, even though she's lived them over and over again.
There's one where she keeps running in the forest, meeting everyone who died along the way: Kelly hung up, Nikki on the floor, JD struggling to walk, his insides pouring in his hands, and then everyone else until she arrives at the tree that holds both her parents at the end of a cord. There's one where Henry succeeded, and she can feel his breath on her face as he wakes her up in the morning, feel his unwanted touch. She woke up and had to run into their small bathroom to throw up at that one, once, Jimmy almost immediately behind her, holding her hair back and tracing smoothing circles on the small of her back. Other times, she wakes up screaming, thinking someone's grabbing her by the foot at the end of the bed, like Wakefield did in the tunnels.
The ones with Jimmy are always the worst. Because it hurts more than anything else - because for a moment when she wakes up, her mind's still convinced the nightmare she just lived is real, and he's really gone. She can't really fall back asleep after those, and just molds her body around his, waiting for the sun to rise, and focusing on the sweet nothing he whispers to calm her down until then.
But Abby doesn't get into those particular details with Shea. Instead, she tells her about the good stuff, too. Because the truth is, there's a lot of them.
Jimmy's got a job he likes. He gets along with a couple of guys there, hangs out with them. Her grandma heard something through a friend, and they ended up getting a shockingly no- that-shockingly-high rent apartment, a bigger one where they're officially not on top of each other anymore. Abby's convinced she got them that particular good deal more for his sake than her, because she loves, loves Jimmy, an accomplishment he's very proud of.
Abby's gotten a promotion. It was in the works before the wedding, but she wasn't sure she'd be up for it after everything. Turns out, she was. She's writing on the side, too. She always had - for magazines, for herself. But now, she's also writing about…well, them, and everything that happened to them. Jimmy was the one who suggested it, arguing that it could be a way to exorcize it, even if she never published it. She's not sure she ever will, but - she's glad she's doing it. It's getting easier, too. Everything is, and little by little, there's more good days than bad ones.
"Life goes on," Shea says. Even through the phone, Abby can hear that it still takes some effort, to utter the words.
That doesn't make them any less true.
"Life goes on."
xii. A hand manoeuvering the keys into the lock, Jimmy makes sure to keep the other one steady behind him, holding her where she is - which is currently slouched against his back, wrapped around him in a death grip yet still swaying.
Based on the way she's still giggling at her own one, knock knock jokes are back in.
Tipsy is not exactly the right word to describe her state (or his, for that matter), but it's the only one she approved, refusing to call it drunk despite the appalling evidence pointing to the contrary.
He hadn't wanted to do anything special, and in her defense, they hadn't. For all intent and purposes, it was just another Friday night: they headed to their favorite bar, where the floor was sticky, the beer cheap, the pool tables hundred of years old, and it felt a bit like back home. Jimmy's friends were there, and so were a couple of hers - the whole bunch they usually hung out with. They teased, laughed, talked too loud over the music, drank too much, played pool and darts. And the whole night, nobody had a clue - just them.
It was a pretty great fucking night.
And now, it's embarrassing, the time and gymnastics it takes them to simply get through the door and to the couch, where a resenting looking Simba swiftly leaves his spot when Jimmy lets himself fall back on it, Abby soon straddling him. But then she's laughing so hard her eyes disappear, an intoxicated smile taking up half her face as she collapses against him, and Jimmy doesn't care about anything else.
"I think he hates us now," she laments as the cat gives them what can only be described as a judgmental meow before disappearing into the bathroom.
"Talk for yourself, Mills - he loves me."
"I love you," and fuck it, no matter how many times he's heard it now, the words still makes his freakin heart miss a beat.
Her mouth is on his, then, and it skips a few others.
"Yeah?"
"Mhm hm," she nods, lips moving to his chin, his jaw. She makes her way down his throat, small hands unbuttoning his shirt with impressive precision given their state, and it's a miracle he's even able to align the next words.
"Well, I think it's time to pay up, then." Abby's chuckle tickles his skin where she's now hiding in his neck. "I mean, I did beat you fair and square."
"I didn't lose," she blatantly lies, continuing what she's doing with her lips and fingers in an honorable attempt to get out of it.
"You didn't win, and I did. So, technically speaking - shit," and he can feel her victorious smile on his skin.
Next thing he knows, his shirt's off, and her fingers drop dangerously low on his stomach.
"I think I won that game of pool and the bet that went with it -"
"Only because I wasn't at the top of my game tonight."
"- and come to think of it, I also one the following one actually, but who's counting -"
"My God."
"It's okay, you can still call me Jimmy," he grins. "But I am gonna need you to honor your part of the deal, though."
Abby finally looks up at that, giving him a glare that could really be more convincing. "Come on, let's hear it: three compliments and the admission of my pool superiority. I mean, given the day it is, I shouldn't have to win to hear it -"
"It's past midnight."
"And yet, I'm still waiting."
Settling back on his lap with an exaggerated sigh, Abby slouches in defeat.
"Fine. Jimmy Mance - "
"Yes?"
"You are better than me at pool," she mumbles in a way you'd think the words are physically hurting her, drawing a victorious smile he doesn't bother hiding from him.
"Well thank you, Abby. And?"
"And," she thinks for a moment. "I guess you don't suck at cooking."
"Oh come on, Abbs, you can do better than that."
She just pulls the hair of his stomach in response. "Ouch. Hurt all you want, but the deal was for real compliments, coming from the heart and everything."
"It does: I really think you don't completely suck at it."
Jimmy barks out laughing, head thrown over the cushion. It's still pleasantly buzzing from the alcohol, and he's warm, comfortable with her weight secured against him, her fingers around his neck, and at that exact moment, life's perfect.
When he focuses back on her, she's shaking her head at him, something much softer now mixing with the humor in her eyes.
She cups his face again, right thumb ghosting over his dimple. "You also have the most beautiful smile I've ever seen - so far," she adds with a roll of her eyes when Jimmy cocks his head at her admission, his smirk getting a little too big, a little too proud. "Your whole face is very nice, actually. It's probably my favorite."
Her voice gets a little lower, then. Her eyes, a little more serious. "You're my favorite person in the whole world. By far."
She looks so…vulnerable, all of the sudden. Open. So damn beautiful, his throat gets a little dry.
It's hard to believe, sometimes, that this is his life.
Leaning in, Jimmy wraps both his arms around her back and kisses her hard, one hand tangled in her long hair to bring her close, always closer. To make her understand what words can't quite make justice of properly. That she's his favorite everything, all the time, and much more - she is everything. Always has been, always will be.
He's got his whole world right here between his arms. Somehow, that's his life.
He's not sure how long they stay here like this until she leans back just enough so that he can see her face, and the heart stopping smile that goes with it.
"Hi."
"Hi."
Yep - his whole world.
Somewhere, Shane's rolling his eyes so loud he can hear it from here, and that makes Jimmy smile even more.
As gone as he is though, Jimmy doesn't lose sight of his objective.
"Technically, that last one is not a compliment though: it's just a fact, so I think - "
"Oh, shut up."
Her lips are on his again before he can add another clever comment, and this time, Jimmy does as he's told, focusing on getting rid of her clothes while her fingers fumble with his zipper, his hands spreading on the deliciously soft newly exposed skin.
There's not much else talking done that night, but as Jimmy eventually moves them to the bed, lowering himself on her, Abby pushes a strand of hair away from his eyes, and whispers it one more time.
"Happy birthday, Jimmy."
.
When he wakes up the next morning, the early morning light barely starting to filter through the drapes, Abby sprawled over him, drooling on his shoulder, a couple of hazy thoughts lazily go through Jimmy's head.
He vaguely registers that her fingers are tangled in his necklace, the way they tend to when she's sleeping. That it's a bit cold, and that he should draw the cover up on her naked back, which he does. It also occurs to him that he slept really well, just like she seems to be now, and that's when Jimmy realizes that he can't remember the last time either of them had a nightmare.
Smiling, Jimmy drops a kiss to her forehead, and falls back asleep.
Yeah. All in all, a hell of a good birthday.
xiii. "What about Canada?"
He doesn't even look up from whatever he's cutting on the kitchen counter, but Abby can see the hint of an amused smile already growing.
"I don't know - smarter than us on the whole healthcare thing, nice views but a pain in the winter?"
"So a maybe?
"As what? The next road trip destination?"
"Or something more permanent."
He does look up at that, all confusion and furrowed eyebrows. Abby just shrugs. "It's just - we've been here a while now."
"And you don't like it anymore?"
"You've never liked it."
"Abby -"
"You don't," she looks at him pointedly, daring him to lie. "And I meant what I said: it's never felt like home for me, either. It's been fine, it still is, but…I've never particularly wanted to stay here my whole life," she admits, because it's the truth. "And I know you certainly don't."
Jimmy likes wide spaces, with so much fresh air it could make your lungs burst, and a quiet only disturbed by the whispers of a lake, an animal passing through the woods, a rainstorm. He's made for small towns where everyone knows everyone, with a truck that can handle muddy roads, a boat he can jump on whenever he wants to. Clear skies, forests spreading as far as one can see.
That's what he's always loved on the island - what he misses. She does, too. That's what he'd never asked of her, never will, but what they both want.
Putting her computer aside, Abby unfolds her legs from beneath herself, and gets up to face him on the other end of the counter. She smiles, hoping to make the doubt disappear from that pretty little face of his. "You don't like L.A."
"It's not so bad now," and she knows he means it. He has his friends now, his favorite spots. They move around often enough.
Still. "I know. But A, you didn't really contradict me here, and B," she continues before he can protest, "Do you want to stay here?"
His conflicted silence speaks volume.
"Abby, I can't ask you to drop your life like that."
"You're not."
He gives her a look. "Would you be thinking about it if we weren't together?"
"If we weren't together, I would probably still be thinking about coming back to the island to beg you to forgive me," and finally, there's that killer smile again.
It's borderline unfair, what it does to her, every single time. "Look, I love you for thinking like that, but…Yes, maybe it wouldn't have been a good idea to leave everything that I knew here after what happened. It helped, to have my friends here, my grandma - something familiar, the life I had. But things are better now," she says, and they are. She can talk about what happened on the island without wanting to cry now. She can look at pictures of her father, the friends she lost. He's doing much better, too.
They've moved on. And it's not to say that this will ever stop following them, to be part of them, but they have - they've started to heal. They made a life together, and now, they can focus on that, and that only. She wants to.
And so she tells him that, and watches his green eyes spark with something that makes the butterflies go wild in her stomach.
"It doesn't necessarily have to be Canada," she finishes. "It could be anywhere. And it doesn't have to be right now, either, we have all the time in the world, but…I know the whole big city thing is not something you want, and I don't, either, so - I just thought maybe we could start talking about it."
"What about your job?"
"I'll find another one."
"What about your friends here? Your grandmother?"
"They'll visit. Also, they have these things called phones now? They're pretty useful to keep in touch and stuff."
This earns her another look, but Jimmy's smiling now, a growing, blinding smile that matches her own.
"Alright - let's talk about it."
epilogue.
Jimmy doesn't like to be away from home for too long. Or at all, for that matter.
He never really has. Sure, the fact that he tended to be a creature of habits didn't help, but it was more that he'd always liked his home. The mountains, the sea, the cricks. The hidden spots where they'd all sneak out with beers at night, the ones he'd take Abby. As far as he was concerned, Harper's island was perfect. Not that he didn't like to discover other places, because he did, but the homesickness would always kick in pretty quick. He'd never imagined spending his life anywhere else. It just - never occurred to him.
Without even consciously realizing it, Jimmy created this future in his head, one where he would start working after high school, gaining experience while Abby went off to college. By the time she'd come back - because she'd always said she would, because she wanted a life on the island, too - he'd have secured a job, would even have his own boat. They'd find a place, build a life, do and live all the things they said they would. After she graduated from college, he thought they could take a summer trip down the coast to celebrate, just the two of them.
They'd build a family. It wouldn't be anything like the one he grew up in, if you could even call it that. His childhood consisted mostly in dodging his folks' fights, walking on eggshells not to get on their nerves, fighting the need to chase after their attention, because the truth was, they had no interest in giving it to him. He spent most of his time out of that house, fleeing the loneliness, the constant smell of beer, his father's temper and his mother's empty eyes. More than once, he had wondered why they even bothered to keep him around. They just..didn't love him. Didn't care, never had and never will.
But he loved Abby. He cared about her. Always had, always will, and at seventeen, Jimmy swore to himself that he'd do right by her. Their kids will get to grow up in the same wonderful place they did, free and careless and surrounded by everything the island had to offer, and they'd be loved. Really, really loved.
Of course, life got in the way, and that particular plan went awry. Twice.
But maybe Shane was right - maybe he really is a lucky bastard, because somehow, Jimmy finds that place again.
Sure, his boat can't stay on the lake by which the house is, so he has to leave it at the marina, but weirdly enough, he can't bring himself to complain about that. Nothing will come close to the familiarity and comfort of nights at the Cannery, no one will replace the people he grew up with, but the bars and neighbors here came to grow on him - on them - pretty fast. Abby unsurprisingly made everyone who met her fall a bit in love with her, and the guys down at the marina are alright. He'd even call Tom a real friend. Still, as much fun as it was, helping him bring that boat all the way down the coast for his new owner, a week's long enough.
Of course, as great as it all is, it's not his boat, or his bar, or even his place that has his skin tingling with impatience. That had left him feeling like a part of himself was missing there for a bit - the whole time, actually.
When the plane finally lands, Jimmy can't help the content, relieved sigh that leaves him.
The airport's so small, it's not exactly difficult to spot anyone past the gate - still, by the time he crosses, bag across his shoulders and beanie on his head, her eyes are already on him, a smile on her face that immediately reflects on his, and that makes his heartbeat derail. She bends to whisper something to the little thing in front of her, pointing towards him with her free hand, and as soon as he sees him, too, Charlie's running towards him as fast as his chubby little legs allow him.
As could have been predicted, he doesn't make it that far, the fall that comes with the over-excitement unforgiving, but when he gets up in a comically frantic hurry that makes everyone around him laugh, the toothy grin is still intact.
"Daddy!" In two strides, Jimmy's lifting up in the air before bringing him close, his son's arms immediately closing around his neck.
"Hi buddy," he chuckles as wild curls come to tickle his nose. The amount of love and warmth that almost tackles him to the ground right here and then almost takes him by surprise, when he should really know better by now. It really is crazy, how much that kid makes everything better.
Something he got from his mom, no doubt.
"I missed you," Charlie mumbles into his shirt, tiny hands holding on to it desperately, as if already scared he'd disappear again.
Not so long ago, Jimmy used to be able to hold him on one arm only, he was so small. Truth be told, he's already starting to feel nostalgic of those times, but he can still envelop his little boy with one arm, and that's what he does, one arm supporting his light weight, the other holding him even tighter against him. "I missed you too, kiddo."
It's corny, that old saying about home being a person, not a place. Be that as it may, he finds there's nothing more accurate, except maybe for the fact that in his case, the list has now grown with that one tiny human.
Again, Abby's already looking at him by the time he looks up, so close now he can smell hints of her shampoo. She smiles, and his freakin heart soars.
And just like that, everything's alright again.
To be fair, Charlie is not at his side the whole rest of the day.
He's mostly on his side, hanging around his neck like a monkey, or on his back, his lap, wrapped around him in one way or another. Even once he's fallen into Morpheus' arms after his bedtime story, Jimmy literally has to peel his sleeping form off of him.
"He just missed you," Abby chuckles, dropping a soft kiss to the back of his neck as she snakes her arms around his waist from behind, and guilt pours in his gut again. "It was the first time he was away from you for so long - that's normal."
"Yeah, well, that's the point - maybe it was too soon."
"Jimmy, he's two - he will have forgotten everything by tomorrow." She squeezes him harder against her. "I promise. He's fine."
In front of them, the little devil rolls around in his bed, legs tangling his bear patterned covers, and releases a big sigh. His little face that she claims looks so much like his at peace. His mouth falls open, letting the pacifier he's slowly learning to let go of to fall on the floor, and Jimmy can feel Abby's quiet laugh against him.
After a few more seconds, he reaches for the handle and closes the door behind them, turning to fully face her before leaning back against it. She immediately brings him close, yearning for contact all day like he has, and Jimmy's happy to oblige.
"Hi."
"Hi." She's smiling, so pretty it takes his breath away for a second.
Shit, he really, really missed that face.
Pushing back against the wood, Jimmy lets himself fall into her arms, finally able to hold her properly for the first time in days. He breathes her in and again, there's so much relief - so much comfort washing over him with her scent surrounding him, her body right against his. It's always been a perfect fit.
"I missed you," he whispers into her hair, barely holding back a sigh when her fingers move over his back, in his hair.
Abby holds him tighter. "I missed you."
"I've never been far away from you that long, either." Not since she came back to him.
"I know. We don't have to try that again, by the way. Despite what I thought, I don't like it that much," and he chuckles, warmth spreading to his chest like a wildfire. Sometimes, he wonders if her words, her touch - if she will always have that effect on him.
If his entire existence up to here is any indication, the answer's probably yes.
"Yeah, it kinda sucks."
It's a while before she eventually leans back slightly, just enough to cover his face with kisses everywhere she can reach.
"Were you okay?", he asks softly as her lips linger on his cheek.
And really, it's not that he's so full of himself that he'd just assume seven days without him would be unbearable. It's just that on his end, as idiotic as it can arguably be, it was kind of a big deal. He did miss her, to a ridiculous point given the short period that it was, a knot in his chest growing little by little each day. He's not exactly gotten the best sleep of his life without her sprawling all over him the way he'd grown accustomed to, either. Plus, there was that uneasiness, too.
It's not so much about what happened on the island. Nothing really is anymore, it's been so long. They've moved on. Sometimes, it felt almost impossible, but…they did.
Still, sometimes -
Jimmy did worry about the possibility of her nightmares coming back when he wouldn't be there to help her fight them away. Of something, anything happening, and triggering something in her. She's strong, he knows that, she can take care of herself, but that doesn't stop him from wanting to be there so she doesn't have to do it alone. And although it's been years, and it doesn't really haunt them like it used to, a part of him was scared, terrified that something would happen - that someone would hurt them.
They were okay. Rationally, he knew that, especially since he'd talked to them every day on the phone, but still…The betrayal, that fear deep in your bones that he'd never felt since, the memories of what happened, of what they went through after - it did come back, and he couldn't help the worry, downright fear that something would happen to his family, and he wouldn't be there to protect them from it.
When his eyes landed on them in the airport this afternoon, Jimmy had realized he hadn't been breathing properly the whole week, until then.
"I was fine," she whispers reassuringly, fingers playing with the stubble on his chin. "I mean, I didn't sleep all that well. The nightmares didn't come back or anything," she reassures him, reading him like a breakin open book once again. "I'm just not used to sleeping without you anymore, I guess," she smiles. Pecks him again. "But we were fine, baby," she says again, looking at him knowingly. "I promise."
Jimmy tries his best to smile back, the heavy concern of the past week finally wearing off, leaving him exhausted.
"I know," he says, because he does - rationally, he does.
He feels like a goddamn idiot. "It's just, sometimes…"
Abby bumps her nose against his, her smile kind. "Yeah - I know."
She wraps both her arms around his neck again, and Jimmy relishes in her closeness. "It does it to me, too. It's been ten years last month, and there's still the occasional, irrational fear, or memory now and then. When I forgot you went fishing and couldn't reach you all day a few months back, I got so scared, I started having a panic attack," she confesses, immediately smiling to erase his concern at learning about it only now.
"I'm good. What I mean is, I get it, but mostly...mostly, I realize I don't think about it anymore. I mean, I do think about my dad - especially when I see you with Charlie," she twinkle, something close to adoration in her eyes. "I'm always going to miss him, just like I'm always going to miss my mom, I'm always going to have regrets, but - it's not tainted with what Henry did now. Not anymore."
They're free. More careful now, more wary than the average person from time to time, always will be, but…they made, alive, free. So happy, Jimmy sometimes wonders what a guy like him has done to deserve any of it.
"Are you okay?" , she asks, gentle, mistaking his silence for the opposite of what it reflects.
Nodding, Jimmy smiles, hands leaving her hips to slide into her hair and frame her face.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay."
When he kisses her, he can feel Abby grin against his lips.
And then, she's barely holding back a shrink of surprise as he carefully but swiftly throws her over his shoulder without a warning.
"Wh - Jimmy!"
"Shush now, you don't want to wake the little beast."
Her giggles resonate against the walls all the way down to their room, and carry on later into the night as they lay under the covers, sweat covered bodies intertwined, Jimmy stroking her hair out her face in gentle, repetitive motions of his finger as he tells her all about his trip.
He's home.
