On impulse I decided that I really needed a Kessi fix. Pretty tame but they were speaking to me and I had to listen. There are spoilers for everything up through the S2 cliffie, so you are warned! I would love to hear anything, good or bad, concerning the story, so please review.

I own nothing and mean no harm. Please enjoy.

As quickly as he had found her, touched her hand, he had lost her.

"She might come back," the voice was not an unwelcome intrusion. Over the days past, days that turned into weeks, Jessi had become a constant. His constant.

"Maybe," he knew it was a lie as soon as he spoke the word, no not a lie, not from his lips. A false hope.

"Do you blame her?" For all her progress Jessi still had not mastered the social art of tact, but the question was a valid one, did he blame Amanda for leaving? Did he feel frustration over her absolute lack of protest when her Mother,

frantic as she had been during her daughter's disappearance, had begun to make plans to move as far away from anyone and anything that might connect his life to Amanda's.

No, of course not, he understood. And yet he stood still, the words not slipping from his lips, Jessi didn't press, she let him stew in his thoughts. She had learned that his words came out freely when she didn't push so hard, she had in fact, learned quite a bit about him.

Enough it seemed to ask the one question that he could not easily answer. A part of him was chiding him for even considering the notion, how on Earth could he blame her for anything? She was Amanda, sweet, innocent, perfect Amanda and she was blameless in all things.

"I shouldn't."

Frowning, he didn't remember when his description of her had turned so, so saccharine. She deserved no blame for the situation she had found herself in, of that no part of him could argue, but he, and all of those who had cared for her, had gone through extraordinary lengths to get her back safe and sound, and there had been nothing more than a routine thanks.

Nothing.

It irked him. Not even so much for himself, the guilt he felt over her initial disappearance tempering his reaction to her lack of gratitude, but her attitude towards everyone else rubbed him raw.

"I could."

Especially the disdain in her eyes when they had first settled on Jessi. Had she really thought Kyle would not have needed and asked for every one's aid in her safe recovery? Had she really thought Jessi would abandon him?

"I might."

It had never occurred to him that Jessi might not have helped, might have continued to walk away with Sarah, no, he had never doubted her commitment, her sincerity, and hadn't she proven invaluable to himself, to the Tragers?

"It's OK if you don't know, emotions have a way of confusing you," it was still unsettling to hear words of comfort and support coming from Jessi, most especially when they were accurate.

They stood side by side now, once again on the roof of the gym, their place, who knew they would ever get to a point where they would have a place. Many nights, when prospects had been slim and the results frustrating, he had made his way here to clear his head, only to find his solitude interrupted by Jessi. Over time her presence became less intrusive, more, well, more.

So now Amanda was gone, safely, but for good. And this time there would be no secret calls, no slip aways from the airports, she had said good-bye. It ached, that small place in his heart, when he thought about not seeing her, not knowing how she was or what she was doing.

But it didn't hurt like he thought it would.

Maybe the hurt was all bled out of him, those weeks that she had been missing, God he had such pain in him, and put simply the pain of now, it paled in comparison. Everything paled now, it was as though he had lived on heightened senses for so long that everything, sight, sound, thoughts even, had dimmed.

The wind picked up, bringing to him a relief from the heat of the evening, and a surprising tangle of Jessi's unbound hair.

"Sorry," her laugh was low, he wondered why it was that her voice was so raw, as though speaking for her was painful. So much about Jessi at times seemed painful. Looking over at her, seeing the dark circles under her eyes, he felt an unexpected pang of regret. He had pushed himself to inhuman lengths, lengths only one other person could keep up with.

And she had. Every moment of every day it seemed, Jessi had been there, all the pain he suffered she had as well; all the pain he had inflicted, she had born without complaint.

And there had not been thanks, not enough, he didn't know when it would be, but what had been was no where near enough.

"You know I couldn't have done this without you," his sudden change in thought startled her, the red of her cheeks giving her away.

Turning towards her more fully, he smiled when she ducked her head, avoiding his eyes, "I mean it," his smile deepened to dimple proportions, "Thank you."

It was still so strange to see this side of her, the shy, passive Jessi that he wasn't quite sure what to do with.

"It's no big deal," but it was, "had nothing else going on," but she did, and her shrug of indifference just wasn't going to cut it this time.

After his frantic calls she had appeared, calm and collected and had taken control of the situation, asking the right questions, giving the smarter answers. One night had turned into a day, and then the weekend was over, and it dawned on him that she was still there.

A whispered question and Declan had revealed that her plans to move away with Sarah had been post-poned, indefinitely, and it was only now that he was finally understanding what she had done; what she had given up for Amanda, no, for him.

"It was a big deal," his hands moved to her arms, taking hold of them gently, "it is."

It is, it was, and then she was looking at him, and he was seeing, really seeing. It happened so fast, so quickly that he gasped, the link blazed between them, and he was her and she was him, it was there. Every thought, every emotion, all jumbled together since that first call. Her rush of concern, for him, always him. Each time he yelled (at her), every time he had pushed (away from her), it had been a stab in heart, and he nearly crumbled now under the weight of it.

Having nowhere else to go he collapsed into her, arms wrapping around her automatically, the things he hadn't seen, hadn't known. He let it wash over him, feeling everything she felt, and the enormity of it humbled him.

"Jessi," his voice choked on the tears gathering in his eyes, slowly the connection faded, but he didn't let her go, no, he held tighter.

What a fool he had been, through her he had seen things so very differently, the way he treated her, treated the other people he had loved, he had amends to make. Even though they understood, knew that his attitude, his actions, were out of concern for someone he cared about, he had hurt those around him and he needed to make things right.

Starting with the one he had hurt the most.

"I couldn't have done it without you," the words would have been lost to anyone else, but she was Jessi and he knew she had heard, could feel the acceleration of her heartbeat, could feel the hands on his back curl and fist into his shirt.

"I wouldn't have made it without you," and no sooner had he spoken then the words did two things happen at once, he knew instantly, and with absolute clarity that he would have suffered, he had pushed so hard, so fast that he would not be as whole and healthy as he was had Jessi not been there to reign him in; second, the first of her sobs burst out of her and tore through him.

"Oh, God, I, I was so worried," her tears, her words began to flow, "you were hurting and each day, each day it was worse, and I couldn't, there wasn't."

Shushing, soothing as best he could, the only way he knew how, he crushed her in his arms, hoping the contact, the strength would ease away the pain.

"I'm here, now, I'm fine," he was, "and it's because of you."

Pulling away just enough that he could see her face, read her eyes, he cupped her cheeks gently between his hands, "I made it through because of you and you can't ever, ever forget that."

He wouldn't, couldn't, let go of what she had done for him.

"I was scared," that she could voice the fear to him, the armored wall she put around herself cracking enough to let it slip, took away his breath, "I know."

Bringing her back in close, he pressed a kiss to her temple and struggled to find the words to make it better, "Lori said you were going to come through, though, she told me have faith, to hold on, and I tried."

Count on Lori to come up with the words he had not been able to find.

"You never let me down, you kept me grounded," his constant, "and I'm, we're," more we from on, "are going to be good."

Good, great, better; there was life all around him. New and clear he could see the world, hear the night swelling and things were brighter and clearer than they had ever been. In the back of his mind, in the furthest reaches he knew that there was something coming; something terrifying, something monumental. Two things, separate, yet, connected; but that was for then.

"Are we?"

There were eyes, full, dark, curious, frightened, and oh so familiar looking up at him.

Smiling, deeply, truly, for her, "We are."

Her tears dried, their hands lingered, he wasn't ready to break the connection, didn't know if he would ever want to, but again he wasn't ready for that train of thought.

"What happens now?"

Again and again she asked the difficult ones.

"I don't know," he looked down at her hand, curled ever so protectively over his arm, "but have a little faith. We are the two smartest people around, he nudged her shoulder with his own, "We'll figure it out."

And he was certain that together, only-maybe-now, ever together, would they.