A/N: This is an updated version of the chapter.

Cataclysm

Disclaimer: Disclaimed.

Prologue

Angrily, she slammed the car door shut. Across the country, he was gesturing his hands animatedly.

She sped up the street, blinded by fury. He sped up his words, blinded by lights and camera flashes.

The last thing she heard was the screech of the car brakes, and someone's scream of terror. The last thing he heard was the screech of the microphone and excited applause.

Then it all went black and the collision of cars, became a collision of worlds.

He walked away from the stage. She didn't walk away from the scene.

He would do it all over the very next day. She would never do anything ever again.

Eli Goldsworthy was reading his words to captivated fans, just as he had always dreamed. Julia McMaster was dead.

Dark hair framed her face with serene fluidity as she lay there, still, her skin porcelain pale, flawless and taut across unmoving features. Crimson lips pursed, strangely bare eyelids closed, frozen, smooth domes trapping the molten brown of her eyes. Her death had been untimely. Beneath that dark hair sat painless gashes. Her porcelain skin was the result of makeup caked over blackened bruises. Opened eyes would reveal a dull, lifeless brown that no one had ever seen on her before. She was beautiful, she was perfection, she was mellifluous.

She was dead.

Six pews from the front sat Clare, dry eyes closed while she pictured her best friend's smile, her laugh, the way she moved with an effortless grace, impossible not to admire. She's dancing. Julia is dancing, across a dark stage. There's no spotlight-Julia never needs one. All eyes on her, always. She moves swiftly, deftly, defying gravity as she rises, falls on pointed toes. She spins quickly in flawless circles, a smile spreading on her face and she becomes one with the wind she's creating. Eyes closing. As the world fades around her, the sound of screeching tires suddenly interrupts her darkness and blinding headlights meet her now wide eyes.

Clare opened her eyes before she heard the scream.

The moment was stuck in her mind, all of her thoughts forming an endless loop of the most tragic moment in her short life-the images of her best friend's death remained ironically immortal. They had been heading home from the movies, just another Tuesday in their decade-long tradition. Julia was dancing through the parking lot, giggling when she narrowly avoided spinning into a lamppost as her cell phone rang. Clare walked slowly behind her, smiling contentedly at her best friend's contagious glee, only wavering as she frowned at the glowing caller ID in her hand. She answered, and a nervous hello turned to despair and tears.

Vividly, Clare remembered Julia began to slam everything; her cellphone on the pavement, her body against the seat, her car door shut, her fists against the wheel, her foot on the gas pedal. Even more vividly, she remembered the haunting squeal of tires and a too-familiar choked scream. The sounds hit Clare so hard, she felt as though every bone in her body was shattered.

Four rows from the back sat Eli, eyes dry, hunched over with his head limp in his hands. It didn't feel real, like somehow it hadn't set in yet. Like the body, deflated and immobile in a box 30 feet away wasn't proof enough. Like he expected her to sit up any moment, sporting the smile that he had forgotten to miss a long time ago. Her face stared back at him, burned into the back of his eyelids ever since the night he'd heard. It wasn't her face anymore-it was the face of the young, innocent Julia he had known-the one he had broken. The face in that coffin, propped up on a white satin pillow and cased in black satin hair, was the face of an older, wiser Julia-thinner, sadder, more worn, broken by forces much stronger than he.

Eli opened his eyes before he wanted to scream.

He couldn't remember exactly where he was when he'd heard; it seemed so insignificant. Thinking to that moment, everything was insignificant. He remembered wiping the sweat off of his forehead with the back of a shaking hand, chuckling to himself that his nerves still got the best of him. He tucked his book under his arm, waving to the crowd as he snuck off to a back room to find his awaiting agent.

He remembered drinking a bottle of water and laughing at someone's joke, and glancing over his shoulder when the door opened. He smiled at the young guy with a cell phone in his hand, only to be met with a look of sincere concern. Eli cleared his throat and reached for the phone. The young guy-Patrick?-shifted awkwardly. It's uh, it's your mom, man. She said it's about... Julia? First, Eli's face fell. Then, the distinct feeling of being punched in the stomach knocked the wind out of him. Finally, Eli started to cry, because a world he'd forgotten was suddenly shattered.

Nearly everyone in the small church was crying throughout the service. Julia's entire family got up, makeup smeared and voices hoarse, to share every wonderful thing you could ever hope to hear about a person, and Clare, desperately trying to muster up a tear, was only able to muster self-hatred in her failure. Eli focused on creating a mental list of everything he once loved about Julia, but couldn't even influence a lump to form in his throat. As the service ended and people moved slowly throughout the church, hugging each other tightly, crying and giving empty, barren smiles over things Jamie had said and done, Clare used clear, tearless vision to wind a path through the crowded aisles.

Eli was standing outside the thick, wooden doors, a cigarette hanging lifelessly from the corner of his mouth. Ashes fell, unnoticed, to the cement steps as his mind wandered to a lone pebble sitting by his foot. A violent push to his shoulder gave him a start, and he looked up quickly to meet enraged blue eyes.

"What the fucking hell do you think you're doing here?" Clare hissed, feeling as though a wave of tears may finally threaten her unintentional composure. Eli struggled for words. Impatient rage slowly grew tired and indifferent in his silence, and Clare shook her head, looking away across the parking lot.

"I-I was, or, well, I don't... I-"

"You shouldn't be here," she interrupted him calmly. He was taken aback.

"Clare, I know that you hate me, and I know she hates... hated me, but..." He closed his mouth, as they both watched each other silently for a moment. "But, you're right. I'm going to go. Bye, Clare."

Eli turned and walked away, feeling a pang of guilt as he got in his car and left the church parking lot, not knowing that Clare was still watching him, tears finally stinging her eyes while he abandoned her there. "Bye," she muttered quietly. She let out a deep breath and looked on until his car had disappeared. As she made her own way down the steps towards the brimming parking lot, she refused to acknowledge how much it hurt that, for the second time in her life, he hadn't even thought to look back.