Becky's eyes widened as she took in Jesse's appearance. The man she remembered was robust, with a swagger that matched his rockstar persona. But now, he seemed fragile—his cheekbones more pronounced, his clothes hanging loosely on his frame.
"Jesse," she whispered, her voice filled with concern. "You've lost weight."
He looked away, unable to meet her gaze. "Yeah," he admitted. "It's been tough."
Becky sat beside him, her fingers brushing against his. "Why didn't you reach out? We could have helped."
Jesse sighed. "I didn't want anyone to see me like this. I thought I could handle it alone."
She squeezed his hand. "You're not alone anymore," she said firmly. "We're here for you."
Becky gently led Jesse downstairs, her hand supporting his trembling arm. The aroma of DJ's homemade pasta filled the air, and Becky's eyes landed on the plate sitting on the kitchen counter. She knew it was DJ's signature dish—a comforting blend of marinara sauce, al dente spaghetti, and a sprinkle of fresh basil.
Without hesitation, Becky grabbed the plate and handed it to Jesse. "Eat," she said firmly. "You need your strength."
He hesitated, but the hunger in his eyes betrayed him. Jesse took the fork, twirling the pasta and bringing it to his lips. The flavors exploded—familiar, warm, and grounding. It was more than a meal; it was a lifeline.
Becky sat across from him, watching as he ate. "You're not alone anymore," she repeated. "We're here for you, Jesse."
The evening sun cast long shadows through the Tanner living room. Danny and Jesse stood face-to-face, their voices rising in a heated argument. The topic was Pam—the woman who had left a void in their lives, a memory too painful to confront.
Danny's frustration boiled over. "Jesse," he snapped, "you think you're the only one hurting? Pam was my wife too!"
Jesse's face paled. He clenched his fists, the weight of grief and anger crashing down on him. "Don't you dare," he whispered, voice trembling. "Don't you dare act like you understand."
And then, without another word, Jesse turned on his heel. He grabbed his motorcycle helmet from the nearby table, the metal cool against his trembling fingers. The door slammed shut behind him, echoing through the empty hallway.
Danny stood there, regret etched on his face. He had crossed a line—one that couldn't be uncrossed.
Becky's patience snapped like a taut rubber band. She stepped between Danny and the closed door, her eyes blazing. "Danny Tanner," she hissed, "you have no idea what Jesse's been through. Pam was your wife, yes, but she was Jesse's sister. His twin. And you—"
Her voice trembled with anger. "You're so busy playing the grieving husband that you forget Jesse's grief is just as raw. He's lost, Danny. Lost in a sea of memories, and you're not helping."
Danny's face reddened, regret etching lines around his eyes. "Becky, I—"
"No," she interrupted. "Think before you speak next time. Because right now, you've pushed him away."
And with that, Becky turned on her heel, leaving Danny standing there, chastened.
Becky's heart clenched as she stepped out into the cool evening air. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the park. And there, on a lonely bench, sat Jesse—shoulders hunched, tears streaming down his face.
She approached quietly, her footsteps muffled by fallen leaves. "Jesse," she whispered, taking a seat beside him. "Talk to me."
He didn't look up, but his voice cracked. "Becky, I can't do this. Not without her."
She reached for his hand, the touch grounding. "Pam's gone," she said gently. "But you're not alone. We're all here for you."
His fingers tightened around hers. "I miss her," he admitted. "Every damn day."
Becky leaned closer, her breath mingling with his. "Then let us help you carry that weight," she murmured. "You don't have to face it alone."
Becky's heart raced as she spotted Jesse's motorcycle helmet lying on the bench beside him. She knew what it meant—the desperate need to escape, to feel the wind against his face as he rode away from the pain.
Without hesitation, she reached for the helmet. "Jesse," she said firmly, "you're not running away."
He looked up, eyes red and haunted. "Becky—"
"No," she interrupted. "We're facing this together. You, me, and the memories of Pam. She wouldn't want you to disappear."
Jesse's grip on the helmet loosened. "I just—"
"Stay," Becky whispered. "Stay with us. Let the tears flow, let the pain out. We'll be here."
As Jesse and Becky stepped back into the Tanner house, the warm glow of familiarity surrounded them. DJ, Stephie, Joey, and Danny—all smiles—rushed forward. The kids giggled, their little arms reaching for hugs.
But Jesse pushed them away, his face a mask of pain. He walked past the family, up the stairs, and into the quiet of his room. Danny followed, concern etching his features.
"Jesse," Danny began, "we need to—"
Jesse's glare silenced him. "Not now, Danny."
Becky watched from the hallway, her heart heavy.
Becky stepped into Jesse's room, closing the door behind her. The air was thick with grief, and she could hear his ragged breaths—screams and sobs escaping from a wounded heart.
She crossed the room, sinking to her knees beside him. "Jesse," she whispered, "let it out. You don't have to carry this alone."
And as the night enveloped them, Becky held him, absorbing the weight of his pain.
DJ tiptoed into Jesse's room, clutching a crumpled piece of paper. "Uncle Jesse," she began, "I need your help with my school project."
Jesse's eyes snapped open, and he shouted, "Can't you see I'm—"
Becky stepped in, her voice calm but firm. "DJ, let me take this one." She guided DJ out of the room, leaving Jesse alone with his grief.
In the hallway, Becky knelt beside DJ. "I'll help you, sweetheart," she said. "Uncle Jesse needs some space right now."
Jesse's room was a sanctuary of solitude, a place where he could grapple with his grief. But as the door creaked open, Michelle toddled in, her tiny face etched with sadness.
"Go away," Jesse snapped, his voice raw.
Michelle hesitated, her eyes wide. She didn't understand the heaviness in the room, but she sensed it. And then, with a trembling lip, she held out her stuffed bunny—a silent plea for comfort.
Jesse's heart clenched. He scooped her up, tears blurring his vision. "I'm sorry," he whispered, rocking her gently. "I didn't mean to push you away."
Michelle's innocent voice cut through Jesse's turmoil. She tugged at his shirt, her eyes wide and curious. "Why you sad, Uncle Jesse?"
He blinked back tears, gathering her close. "Sometimes grown-ups feel sad," he whispered. "But it'll be okay."
Michelle's tiny hand patted his cheek. "Okay," she echoed, as if trying to understand.
Becky tiptoed into the room, her heart swelling at the sight before her. Jesse, exhausted from grief, lay fast asleep on Michelle's little shoulder. The room was hushed, as if holding its breath.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Michelle's wide eyes met hers, and the toddler pressed a tiny finger to her lips. "Shh," Michelle whispered, her voice filled with wisdom beyond her years.
Becky moved with quiet grace, her steps barely audible on the carpeted floor. Jesse's face was etched with exhaustion, lines of sorrow softened in sleep. She gently eased him against the pillows, tucking the blanket around his shoulders.
As she stood there, watching him, Becky whispered, "Rest, Jesse. We'll be here when you wake up."
The room was cloaked in darkness, the moon casting a feeble glow through the window. Jesse's dreams twisted and turned, pulling him into a vortex of memories. He saw Pam—her laughter, her warmth—but then the scene shifted, and he was helpless, watching her slip away.
In the nightmare, he reached for her, but his hands passed through smoke. He struggled, gasping for breath, desperate to wake up. And then, with a jolt, he did.
Jesse sat up, chest heaving, tears streaming down his face. The weight of loss settled over him like a suffocating blanket. Pam was gone, and no dream could change that.
Becky stirred beside him, her hand finding his. "Jesse," she murmured, half-asleep, "it's okay."
But it wasn't. He buried his face in his hands, allowing the sobs to escape—the raw ache of missing her tearing through him.
And in that lonely darkness, Becky held him, whispering soothing words, as if trying to mend the shattered pieces of his heart.
Becky observed Jesse's restless state—the moonlight casting shadows on his tear-streaked face. She leaned closer, her voice soft. "Jesse, sleep won't come easily tonight. How about we go downstairs and watch a movie? Something to distract your mind."
He hesitated, then nodded. Together.
Becky tiptoed into the kitchen, her arms laden with a tub of ice cream and a bowl of popcorn. The flickering TV screen cast a soft glow, illuminating the cozy living room. She knew Jesse needed this distraction—the comfort of a movie to ease his troubled mind.
As she settled on the couch, Michelle and Stephanie appeared at the top of the stairs, their arms crossed. Their expressions mirrored each other—defiant, ready for battle.
"Movie night?" Michelle challenged, her eyes narrowing.
Stephanie chimed in, "Yeah, well, we were planning a secret midnight snack."
Becky sighed. "Girls, can't we—"
But before she could finish, Michelle cut her off. "We're not kids anymore, Aunt Becky. We can stay up late if we want."
Stephanie nodded vigorously. "Exactly! We're practically adults."
Becky's patience wavered. "Practically or not, you're still under this roof. Now sit down and—"
Danny's voice interrupted from the staircase. "What's going on here?"
The girls exchanged glances, realizing they were outnumbered. Danny ushered them upstairs, promising to sort it out. Becky watched them go, then turned back to Jesse, who had drifted off on the couch.
"Movie time," she whispered, pressing play.