Breakaway

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Forty-Two

Christmas was only a few short days away. It promised to be as bleak, cheerless and as endless as the few he had suffered through while Jonesy had been his guardian. Those unfortunate holidays were a mere blip on his memory reel; ones he worked extremely hard not to recall. He didn't have to worry about verbal or physical abuse. He had a secure family who loved and respected him. He also had many friends who supported him and cared for him. This holiday season was different. It was the feelings inside him that was making the season grim and the twinkling lights much less bright. In the six months they had been apart, his heart hadn't come close to mending. He ran a hand over it, almost as if touching it could help make it heal quicker. It couldn't. It would be a long time before it would be back to normal, if ever. His eyes skimmed over in the direction of her house, towards the small puffs of smoke wafting lazily up into the chilly December sky.

He still had not set foot in Crabapple Farm despite an invitation from Brian two days ago to have dinner with the whole Belden clan. Sitting at the same table with Trixie and her father hadn't seemed like the best possible idea. The immediate refusal had stuttered out of his mouth. He hoped Brian had understood it. While he could successfully stay out of Peter Belden's way, and most certainly would, he couldn't avoid Trixie, not without creating an insane amount of speculation from the others. Plus it would go against the shaky agreement they had come up with during their holiday movie night. So far, he had lived up to his end, as had she. He showed up at all of their functions and appeared to have a good time. She followed his lead beautifully. She hadn't faltered once; had responded with apparent friendliness to him. Were they at complete ease with each other? The answer to that question was an unqualified no.

Yesterday was a perfect example of their agreement. They had met at Di's house for an impromptu luncheon. Most of the Bob-Whites had been able to come, except for Brian who had volunteered to help out Dr. Ferris at his office for the day. Refusing the invitation hadn't been a possibility. He hadn't been able to come up with an excuse handy enough on the spur of the moment. Instead, he had spent the entire lunch sitting across from her, doing his noble best to partake in the conversation and the food that should have been delicious but tasted like sawdust to him while keeping the depth of his feelings from showing. From the way she had laughed a little too loudly and had refused to look directly across the table at him, it wasn't hard to come to the realization that she was experiencing the same frustrations.

Being around her damn well hurt. It was an endless ache that persisted despite all of his attempts to ignore it. He couldn't bring himself to break through the invisible wall that stood between them. And, he admitted, she couldn't either. They had managed a fairly good job of fooling their friends into thinking that they were at least attempting to patch things up and become friends again. No one suspected anything…with the possible exception of Dan, he reluctantly corrected himself. He inclined his head to the side, remembering the way Dan had taken to studying the two when they were together. His friend seemed to have already gathered the fact that their apparent comfort with each other was only for show and for their friends' sakes. Heaven help both of them if Honey or Di ever figured it out. They would never hear the end of it. He released a small, frustrated groan. After they reamed them out for trying to fake them out, the two would only go back to trying to put them back together again.

He picked up a stick, sent it humming through the air, and watched it dispassionately land on the spot close to where the mansion had once stood…and where he had first met Trixie, on that fateful July day so many years earlier. He surveyed the clearing that had once been Ten Acres. Nothing was there anymore; not the mansion, not even the summerhouse. Nothing. Shortly after his adoption, the foundation had been taken out and the ground leveled, all courtesy of Matthew Wheeler who had wanted to make the area as safe as it could be, especially with so many young teenagers running amok in the countryside. Rickety ruins caused by a raging fire were not what he termed safe. It was all gone, as if it had never existed. The area was left completely barren. Leveled ground, a few tree stumps, and glistening, crunchy snow from a light snowfall a few days earlier were the only adornments to it. As he looked his fill, he thought that the bleak gray surrounding the site suited his mood remarkably well. The blue farmhouse they had planned on building someday momentarily materialized in his mind, a brief, almost tangible figment of his imagination. He could almost see it, rising out of the snow, with a curly-haired blonde waiting for him on the front porch. It mocked and taunted him, standing for something he desperately wanted but believed he could never actually have. Not anymore.

With his mind reluctantly opened up to her and their past together, despite his best efforts to thwart her presence whenever humanly possible, he wandered farther into their past. Maybe it was because he was blissfully alone, finally away from their friends and family. Or it could have been because one of the most memorable and special nights of their entire relationship had occurred here, only a few months ago. Whatever the reason, he couldn't hold back the memory, despite his strong desire to do so. The spectacular evening on a warm May night, a few weeks before her high school graduation, came to him, teasing and tantalizing him with its very presence. Trixie's senior prom. Their special night, when they had come into the knowledge that their hearts could truly beat as one and that their souls could become as intertwined as their bodies. The deep breath he sucked in painfully filled his lungs with the cold, frigid air. The harshness of it was what he needed to pull himself back from the powerful memory.

Desperately needing distance, he rushed from the clearing, moving swiftly through the snow, almost as if the memories had the power to hunt him down and take him out. He couldn't believe they had traveled so far and so swiftly away from each other, like a speeding locomotive that had jumped off the track. To put it mildly, they had crashed and burned and had no one else to point a finger at but each other. It couldn't be comprehended. He simply could not figure out how two smart, intelligent individuals who professed to love each other as strongly and as deeply as they had could manage to make such a mangled mess out of their relationship. The fact that Honey's ordeal in the store had unwittingly showcased a few glaring faults in their relationship that neither had realized existed or had overlooked only made him feel worse. He wasn't that far gone that he couldn't admit that they had each played a solid part in their problems. Kicking a small mound of snow with his thick brown boots, he desperately wished that time could be stilled and turned back. If it could, there was so much that he would do differently, starting with the way he handled the interview with Sergeant Molinson right after the events at the store. He wouldn't have pushed her away. If he wanted the outcome to be different, he more than suspected that Trixie did, too. Unfortunately, he couldn't find a way through the maze of hurt feelings, disappointment, pain and even righteous anger to get to that point where they could hold a civilized, ordinary conversation, let alone talk out their issues. Suffering in limbo, while not an ideal situation, seemed to be the only path available.

With his mind filled to overflowing with thoughts of Trixie, both intoxicating and excruciating, he trudged away from the large clearing, his boots crunching the crispy snow beneath his feet and leaving large footprints in his wake. The swirls of the pattern on the soles were visible. He put his hands deep into the lined pockets of his jacket because he had, once again, forgotten to wear gloves. Shivering, he soldiered on through the cold. The weather forecaster that morning had cheerfully predicted a significant snowfall sometime within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, promising the viewing area that they would have a white Christmas for certain. With the way the gray clouds were starting to roll in, he was inclined to believe it. He had to hand Trixie one thing, he thought with a wry, almost amused grin. Winter in San Diego had to be much warmer and more comfortable than back in the East. He almost envied her the move and shook his head. He wouldn't be finding out what a winter on the West Coast was like anytime soon.

As he walked down the trail that he knew better than the back of his freckled hand, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps, coming from the direction of the Manor House. Stopping at the edge of the path, a half-smile of welcome on his face, he waited for the person to appear. His expectations were for Brian Belden, who had been up at his house visiting Honey when he had left for his sojourn into the woods. A light smirk spread across his face while he waited for his friend to appear. Stomping his feet to keep them warm, he faced the bend in the path. His stomach hit the ground when he recognized the petite body coming his way.

It wasn't Brian. He should have realized his luck had gone to hell and back and wasn't in any danger of improving anytime soon. Maybe it had a chance of improving once the next millennium rolled around, which really sucked for him because they were only a few handful of years into the new one. As it was, he made a mental note to not attempt any sort of gambling right now, even if it was merely purchasing a scratch-off ticket or buying a fifty-fifty at the local high school basketball game. He was certain to lose. The fates, as fickle as they were, were having a field day with him. His groan was swallowed up by the wind while the half-smile on his face dropped off alarmingly fast, to be replaced with nothing but a remote look that masked his true feelings superbly.

With her head bowed down against the biting wind, Trixie didn't know he was there. Yet. A knitted white cap, courtesy of Aunt Alicia, rested on her head, covering up all but the curls that were rioting becomingly underneath it. Her face was an attractive rosy red, made even more brilliant by the bite of the cold. She kept her arms wrapped around her body in a vain attempt to stop the wind from eating its way through the thick fleece of her jacket and muttered to herself, looking down at the frozen ground, "Gleeps! Brrr! I can't believe I forgot what winter feels like in Sleepyside."

Even from the short distance away, Jim heard her. Her grumbled words floated back to him with another strong advent of wind. A multitude of responses, ranging from the sarcastic to the furious to the condescending, ran through his mind but he didn't share any of them with her. Couldn't. He simply could not do it. It was the first time they were going to be completely and totally alone since their meeting in the kitchen at his house a few nights ago. He made his mind up fast that it was going to be quick, as quick as he could make it, and painless. He hoped. It had to be. He detested the purgatory he was stuck in with a vengeance. With absolutely no expression on his handsome face, he almost faded back into the woods, to let her pass without knowing that he was there. Instead of taking the coward's way out, he stood and waited for her to realize his presence.

Something alerted her. It could have been the large shadow the weak winter sun threw carelessly on the ground. Or maybe it was a brief movement she caught out of the corner of her eye as he rubbed a cheek. Most likely, it was the sixth sense she had developed for one James Winthrop Frayne II soon after she had first met him. Whatever the reason, she recognized him before her eyes settled on him. It coursed through her, chasing away the icy coldness of the day, leaving her breathless, anxious and tense. Her booted foot halted in midstride. Flustered, she stumbled over an exposed tree root but managed to right herself by catching onto a branch before she sprawled inelegantly at his feet. Her face immediately turned a bright, ferocious fire-engine red while she imagined how that would have looked. "Jim," she breathed out nervously, her voice tiny and her eyes the clearest of blues. Slowly, she let go of the branch and regained her balance.

A year ago, he would have made light of the near stumble, to help her get past the embarrassment of what she perceived as her habitual clumsiness. Today, he couldn't force a sound out of his numb mouth, not with the insurmountable mountain of issues existing between them. Instead, he nodded once at her, curtly and unfriendly, and didn't make another overture. His hands fisted in his pockets, the only sign of nerves he allowed himself to indulge in, but they were hidden from view. She couldn't see it. Nothing else gave him away. He was learning to excel at keeping his emotions close to his chest. He may not have the luck but he definitely had the poker face.

She didn't have a clue how much it cost him to stay remote from her or that he was as confused, hurt and sad about their situation as she was. Since she couldn't get a good read on him, she followed his lead and did the best she could to keep her feelings far under the surface. "Umm," she faltered, her mind swiftly turning to mush, and she blushed even redder. Her face felt like it was on fire. With one black-gloved hand, she pointed weakly in the direction she had come from, sending up a quick prayer of gratitude that she hadn't fallen on her bottom in front of him. "I, uh, I was up at your house. Honey called me a while ago and invited me up after Brian left. She wanted to talk to me before she went shopping with your mother. She needed a few last-minute gift ideas." And help with a Christmas present for Brian. While the Bob-Whites weren't exchanging gifts as a group, the established couples were. Trixie had agreed to the visit with a great deal of trepidation, almost anticipating another manufactured meeting with Jim at Honey's hands. She had been extremely relieved to learn that Jim had gone out for a walk and hadn't expected to run into him at all. She nearly rolled her eyes at the ironic twist of fate, wondering how she was going to get through the remaining weeks before the spring semester started up without losing her sanity.

He didn't say anything; only looked at her. Coolly and politely. Because he wanted to touch her, and very badly, he took a small step back from her. Putting his nervous energy to good use, he snapped off a small branch from a nearby tree. The loud noise startled her and made her jump. He broke the branch into small pieces and watched them float to the ground. Then he brought his piercing gaze back to her. He still hadn't spoken a word to her.

Something inside Trixie shriveled up at the way he was looking at her. His eyes were shuttered, as if he was completely closed off from her. The old, comfortable familiarity that had once existed beautifully between the two of them didn't seem to be there anymore. She thought with an odd catch to her breath that they only had each other to blame for it and wished that she had the courage to settle everything between them, once and for all. But she didn't. Nervously, she tugged off her cap and ran her fingers through her mass of curls, missing how he almost hungrily watched the way the blonde mass bounced and swayed with the movements and the wind. Because it was necessary to break the silence, she added, "She liked my gift ideas for Brian. We also decided that it would be a great idea to visit a few of our old friends, like Mrs. Vanderpoel and Mrs. Elliott. Tomorrow. We're going to do it tomorrow. Di's going to join us, too. We're going to stop by and bring them some holiday cookies," she finished, practically heaving the words out of her mouth because she was suddenly very edgy. Tugging the cap back onto her head, she peered up at him.

"That's a good idea," he finally answered, reluctantly taking up his part in a conversation he didn't want to partake in since he couldn't be rude to her, anymore than she could be to him. It was harder and much more stilted to talk with her than it was when they held a short, impersonal one in the company of their friends. "Honey told me before I went out for my walk that she needed to buy a few odds and ends. Our mother was looking forward to shopping in town with her."

"Hmm. Yes, that's what Honey said." Silence. Again. Long and biting like the wind. Trixie wasn't certain what to say next. Feeling frozen from the cold, and not only from the weather, she repeated unthinkingly, "I'm not used to the colder weather anymore. I forgot what a Sleepyside winter is really like."

His eyes went sharp before he bit out, "What did you expect?" For once, he released a small portion of his temper, forgetting to reign it in. It felt good to give it a little bit of life, to not keep it caged in, to revel in it even it only for a second or two, and to let the object witness it firsthand. With green flickers of impatience lighting his eyes, he tacked on for good measure, "Life here hasn't changed that much because you made the decision to move away."

Caught off guard, she wanted to defend herself with her impatience and would have, if she hadn't remembered the fact that an extremely private and secretive agency wanted her as an agent. Drawing on the strength of the fact that one of the most respected and forceful agencies in the entire world believed in her and in her abilities, she stood her ground. "I know. I never expected it to change that much. I became used to the warm weather," she answered, her hands clasped together tightly.

And she did him in, quite nicely. He couldn't respond with more anger or impatience, not when she was utilizing more control than he was at the moment. Lines settled on his forehead. He didn't want to turn himself into a complete ass. "I'm certain it's got to be a beautiful place. It's just a change," he settled for, his only way of agreeing with her, and started to move forward, hoping to get past her without having to come into direct contact with her. He had a suspicion that both of them would break on the spot.

"Yes. You're right. It is." Changes. It brought up more thoughts about the CDA and their lucrative offer to her. Coming home hadn't helped her make her decision yet. He would help her make her newest choice, whether he knew it or not. She searched for the courage to bring up the one subject she needed to know about and found it. She almost reached out to touch him, an automatic gesture, and laid her hands on her hips. Haltingly, she mentioned, "I'm not the only one here that made a change, Jim. I heard about yours, too. What…how…why did you change your major?"

The question halted him in his tracks, only a short distance from her. Within touching distance. Within breathing distance. Within…God, damn it all; within everything. His face briefly reflected his surprise that she had the audacity to ask him about the alterations to his plans. She, who had gleefully chosen to relocate without asking him his thoughts about her new university or preparing him for the possibility, was questioning his change in career plans. He hadn't been given that courtesy. His eyebrows shot up. "I needed a change," he answered with a careless shrug of his shoulders.

"Oh," whooshed out of her. Staring out into the glistening white of the woods, idly watching a bright red cardinal as it searched in vain for berries to eat, she thought about her choice. It had much longer-ranging effects than she had ever imagined it would, on that long ago summer night, exactly as her mother had warned her about. Closing the door? In one fell swoop, she had certainly slammed it, locked it, and obviously nailed it shut. Mentally castigating herself, she realized that she couldn't expect much better from him, certainly not open arms, not with the unresolved issues lying like an unlit keg of dynamite between them, simply waiting for one of them to ignite it and let it explode. Even knowing all of this, she couldn't squelch the need to know why he wasn't going to pursue his dream of the boys' school anymore. A light wind blew by, catching the curl he had always viewed as his and blowing it across her face. In a move he knew so well, she wrestled it from the wind and tucked it back behind her ear, patting it for good measure. But she couldn't give up. It wasn't in her nature. Tenacity was as much a part of her as was her curiosity and impulsiveness. "It's so different from what you planned to do, Jim. I, well…I wanted to know why, is all."

"You could figure it out. You don't need me to tell you," he responded, his voice carefully calm and measured. And as blank as the look on his face. He was proud that he wasn't allowing his own frustrations and hurt to seep through again. She didn't have a clue how hard it was for him to maintain his composure. It would crumble the second he left her. He knew it.

He had to give her credit. She didn't flinch. Surprised by the almost detached way he presented his answer, completely ignorant of the effect it was having on him to stay in control, Trixie blinked once, then twice, and agreed quietly, "I probably could."

Nothing else. Only the softly uttered words. She didn't elaborate. She did nothing but stare back at him out of her impossibly clear blue eyes, eyes that rivaled the brilliance of a bright, beautiful summer sky and put the winter one above them to shame. He couldn't read anything into them. Making a non-committal sound, refusing to let any weakness show on his part, he set his mouth into a thin, straight line and pointedly waited for her to say something else.

"I can tell you why I decided to go to CU, if you want," Trixie offered hesitatingly, hoping that if she shared a little with him, he may return the favor and open up a little towards her. She wanted him to accept her offer to listen to her more than she cared to admit. It took all that she had to make the offer to him. Honey had let it slip a while back that Jim had never accepted the letter she had written for him in the summer, which meant that he hadn't accepted her explanation, as well as the other private message contained within. She was pathetically grateful that Honey had kept the letter. If Jim had accepted it, it probably would have met an unfitting end with a shredder or a match.

Jim shrugged his shoulder coolly and responded dispassionately, "It doesn't make much of a difference now. I don't mean to be harsh but you're about six months too late."

His delivery sliced through her worse than a thousand angry words would have done. Smooth and even, without a tremble to his voice or a flash of fire to his eyes. Icy cool. Trixie opened her mouth, closed it with an audible snap, unable to formulate an answer. She couldn't argue with the truth or the way he had responded. He hadn't given her anything to stand on. Staring at him cautiously, she admitted, almost defeated, "Yeah." She drummed a finger against her denim clad thigh, needing to get rid of some of her nerves. Inhaling deeply, she made a decision to tell him and rushed on, "But I'll tell you anyway. I…um…I decided to accept the full scholarship I was offered there. It's only offered to a chosen few. They liked my essay and gave it to me. I was lucky to get it," she said into the lengthening silence and then grimaced at her poorly chosen words, knowing that her nerves had gotten the better of her. The true reason behind the scholarship flashed in her mind, reminding her it was much more than a mere college education that had been handed practically on a silver platter to her, if she chose to accept it. She watched him, gauging his reaction. He couldn't know that she was waiting with bated breath for his response. An insane part of her wanted him to blow up at her, to show her that he still had some feelings for her.

The full scholarship? The damn offer he hadn't even known existed until she was already gone? Hearing it now, from her own lips, made it seem even more real than the day classes had started up at NYU and she hadn't been with him. "Good for you," he congratulated her stoically, his voice toneless and his eyes flat. "From what I understand California University has an amazing criminal justice program. I heard Brian say that it is widely regarded as the best in the country. You couldn't have done better. Congratulations."

While the words were the correct ones for someone to give, they didn't carry an ounce of cheer or good fortune in them. Keeping her features schooled was difficult, more difficult than she ever imagined, but she managed to do it. "Thanks," she responded in the same tone he had used, feeling like an imbecile, her eyes slitted blue with deep, unexpressed concern. Thanking him wasn't what she wanted to do but she couldn't think of anything else to say.

If he was talking with anyone else, the natural flow of the conversation would have led him to the point where he questioned them about the first semester away. He couldn't bring himself to do it. He simply did not want to know about Trixie Belden, sunny San Diego or California University. There was no need for him to know how she was adjusting to life away from Sleepyside, from the Bob-Whites, and from him. "Good luck with that. I'm certain you'll do great. You always do well at whatever you set your mind to." The words of praise came surprisingly easy from him. Counteracting them, afraid that he was about to give in to his weakness, he gave a curt nod of dismissal, he half-turned. He wanted to leave with his pride fully intact if not his heart.

Displaying the tenacity she was known for, she didn't waste a minute before calling out, totally unaware of her own intentions until she voiced them, "Stop, Jim. You can't go yet. You still haven't told me why you decided to change your majors." Her face carried a brief look of surprise at her own audacity for bringing the subject up. Again.

He turned back around, fully facing her again, and lifted a single eyebrow. It had to be the most awkward conversation they had ever experienced. "I imagine it's for the same reason why you changed universities," he explained slowly, hating the fact that his voice had a twinge of condescension to it but unable to hide it, and attempted to bring the subject to a close so that he could get the hell away from her before he did something really stupid and showed her the true depth of his feelings. Inhaling sharply, he stated as simply as he could, "I don't want to talk about it with you. You'll have to respect it the same way I've been trying to respect your decision to move to California."

A quietly uttered blast, straight through to the heart. She was lucky to be left standing after its delivery. Respect. One of their key words from their first fight, before the actual storm had actually hit. In her opinion, the storm had raged on with much less potency than the angry words and hurt feelings between them. Worse, she couldn't offer up much of a defense. Hers was flimsy, at best. She had withdrawn from NYU. She had left. She hadn't shared her decision with him or prepared him for it. She had, quite simply, packed up and moved, while he was away at his camp, with no chance of communication between them. Looking back, it may not have been the best choice. "Good luck with that," she grumbled disconsolately under her breath.

Yet another thing they agreed upon. It was surprising to him that there was some common ground existing between them. An odd sort of thing that couldn't be termed a positive in the least. He didn't understand her choice; she sure as hell didn't understand his. At least there were a few things they were still dead even on. "Same to you," he countered smoothly.

Nerves danced along the edges of her spine. She wasn't going to be able to reach him. He was beyond her now, was about as far away from her as he could get. Her chest rose and fell while the realization hit her fully, as powerful as if she had taken a bullet to the center of her chest at point blank range. There didn't seem to be any possible way to solve their problems or overcome their hurt feelings. Her face lost its rosy color, became as white as the snow at their feet. Her shiver wasn't from the weather. It came from the coldness seeping within her, starting at the very center of her soul and working its way out towards her extremities. She wished he had lost a tiny bit of his control. If he had, maybe she could have reached him then.

Protecting himself, he took a step away from her, his hands tightly balled fists hidden in his pockets, as if he could center all of the stress, tension, and anguish there and squeeze it out of him. None of it showed on his face or in his voice. With feigned nonchalance, he bid her farewell. "Well, I've got to go. I've got some studying to do."

"Studying?" she repeated, slightly stunned, until she remembered what he would be studying for. "That's right. The LSATs," she murmured under her breath, shaking her head in amazement. It didn't seem right. Jim was preparing for law school, of all things. It was all wrong. So much was wrong right now.

He acknowledged her with another curt nod and turned on his heel, preparing to finally complete his exit. His supply of energy was rapidly diminishing, as was the fortitude he needed to uphold his part for their conversation. "I think we're finished here. I'll see you around," he said as a way of goodbye that wasn't quite rude but wasn't exactly open. Without waiting for her response, he walked away, proud of himself for avoiding using her name through the entire conversation. He couldn't bring himself to say it, not to her, and tromped on the path. Pausing, he almost turned back for one last look but, with the memories of her prom night still biting into him hard, almost viciously, he couldn't. It hurt too much. Emotionally drained, he trudged on. The fanciful thought that he had left his heart behind him danced at the edges of his mind until he shoved it aside and ignored it.

Words caught in her throat; of apology, of pleading, of anger or sorrow, she couldn't tell or find the energy to express. Instead, she was frozen to the spot, like a living, breathing icicle. She forced herself to watch him leave. Hope beat frantic wings for one long second when it seemed like he was going to stop and turn back around, to come back to her or at least look at her. But he didn't. Disappointment sat heavily on her shoulders as she watched until he disappeared around the bend in the path. Then he was gone from her sight. She strained her ears but all she could hear were the sounds of the bare branches rattling around her. Dull and dreary.

She closed her eyes in weary resignation. That special connection that used to exist between them had been damaged, severely so, exactly as her mother had warned her about when she had given her permission to leave for California. Trixie didn't know if it could ever be repaired or if it was irrevocably severed for good. The wind chose that moment to whip by, a long, icy blast. She blamed it for the sting of tears sparkling in her eyes. She stood tall against the crisp blue sky, her red coat standing out, and her face showcasing her despair. Almost as an afterthought, she reached up and swiped away the tears that were threatening to spill.

Trapped in her thoughts, Trixie didn't move for the longest of times. Ignoring the harsh winter air, she thought about everything. Their past, their fights, their misunderstandings, mistakes and miscommunications. Their recent talk, the realization that they had a serious lack of connection between them, took forefront, as did the strained relationship they had now. He didn't even want to be her friend, was more than willing to pretend to get along with her in order to keep the harmony of the Bob-Whites. She couldn't blame him. She wasn't exactly open to him. Her features hardened for a moment before she resolutely smoothed them out. She hadn't firmly believed until that moment that they were completely done. The truth hurt far worse than she ever expected it to.

Standing in the woods, alone, with the weak sun glinting off the snow and low, gray clouds rolling in, the answer she had been searching for came to her, the one she had been contemplating, the one she had put off answering. Now, as Jim Frayne had walked away from her without a second glance, she knew what she was going to do. Trixie seemed to grow taller once she made her decision. It was an outlet, gave her a purpose, and allowed her to overlook her pain and focus on something new and challenging. It may even be fulfilling. At the very least, it would keep her busy. Inhaling sharply, calling on her strength, she reached for her cell phone, her fingers sure, strong and refusing to shake. She couldn't be weak, not if she was going to accept. Slipping it out of her pocket, she contemplated it, admitting to herself that once she put the call through there wouldn't be any turning back. Her answer would be final.

She breathed out slowly. The air caught her breath, showcasing it in a wispy, whirling dance, before it evaporated into the sky. Her heart began hammering within her chest…with an excitement she hadn't imagined possible. A new challenge awaited her, one where she could have a real chance to make a significant difference in the world and put her never failing curiosity to excellent use. Slowly, deliberately, she pulled off one black glove and called up the number that she had programmed into her cell the night she had been given it in San Diego. The authoritative voice on the other end answered on the second ring, his greeting clipped, business-like and not allowing his own apprehension to show once he recognized the caller on the other end. She hesitated for one single, solitary second. When she gave her answer, she would no longer be the Trixie that her friends and family knew. She would become someone different. The idea appealed to her. Looking up into the sky, she declared, her voice infused with all the strength she could put into it, and a steely glint in her blue eyes, "Count me in."

I hope you've enjoyed Breakaway. The story of Trixie and Jim will be continued in the next part…coming very soon. Thank you for sticking with me! If you're like me and you need a little happy Jim and Trixie moment, please check out my website for a link to Trixie's prom night. You can find it by clicking on my profile here. It's under my homepage. I'm not going to post it here because I don't want an M rating for my story. It's passworded so you'll need to contact me if you're 18 or older and wish to read it. Thanks!