CHRISTMAS 2012

After that night, everything changed.

Tate apologized to me every day after that, a hundred thousand "I'm so fucking sorry" and tried to absolve the sins he made against those in the house. He apologized to everyone, really, including Ben. He was trying desperately to make amends and – in some cases, like that of Maria and Gladys – he was successful. I learned to trust him again, even after all we'd been through. He was acting like human Tate again, not drugged out or post-life Tate; and, although I wasn't looking to ever admit it, I couldn't help myself from still loving him despite myself. We went together that Halloween, down to our place at the beach, and we dreamed the same things we'd dreamed as teenagers – of running away, of finding happiness, of staying together – even though we knew they'd never happen. Everything was almost as it had been, almost as good.

Overall, the Afterlife went back to what it had been within no time at all. I spent my days just as I always had – with Tate or my friends, out in the backyard or up in the attic or down in the basement. I was happy again. Things were easy.

The afterlife went on.

Eventually, as it had many times before without our notice, December rolled around and brought the Christmas season with it.

The Harmons were the kind of family who got really into holidays; they played music on that fancy little electronic Violet carried with her and even put up a tree in the living room.

I personally felt it was a little bit strange, being reminded of an actual season after everything had blended together for so long, but it was kind of nice at the same time. I hadn't seen a Christmas tree in many, many years, and they even hung up some of Nora's old ornaments, and it was nice to think of the love that Christmas was meant to bring.

There was joy in the house for the first time in many years, and – even though we weren't part of the family unit – we still felt it. Despite all of the negative impact the Harmons' presence had on the house, had on my relationship and life, they had brought us all back to humanity a little bit, and for that I was grateful.

Tate and I spent Christmas in the attic with Beau, with our family. Happy and laughing and playing. That night, he and I went outside to watch the stars, just as we'd done so many times before. It was warm out, and we were content to sit forever under the night sky.

Looking at the house, our house, I couldn't help remembering everything that had happened there.

That horrible goddamn house.

Where we spent countless hours playing with Beau. Where I helped Addie get ready for her first (and ultimately last) school-sponsored dance. Where Tate and I fell in love. Where Tate and I died.

20 years of memories.

And still, here we were. Almost twenty years since his eyes first met mine across the smoky quad – nineteen Halloweens and endless albums never bought by bands we'd never hear of, nineteen anniversaries of all our firsts. Twenty years together, in that goddamned House.

More years in death than we had in life.

"I never want to leave you behind again," Tate stated quietly from beside me, grasping my hand in his. "I love you, Freyja."

His words seemed to easy a heavy weight that I'd been folded under. He was Tate, he always would be.

As I looked at him, it felt like I was seeing him for the first time in many years – not like we had been friends in high school who just ran into one another at the grocery store, but almost as if the image of him had become fuzzy or worn and was just now coming into focus. He was so goddamn beautiful.

"I love you," he repeated.

I didn't love Tate that way anymore, and I never would love him that same way again. But I loved him still.

I didn't feel the need to respond to his declaration of love, didn't feel the need to make some grand romantic speech about renewal or forgiveness, because I knew he had believed me every time I'd ever said those words.

And for the first time in many years, I finally believed him.

Chapter Title: Almeria - Lifehouse - released December 2012

Alternately "Dirt Sledding" - The Killers | "Book Of The Dead" - Minuit

A/N: This is it. This is the final chapter of this story. I cannot believe that I've finally finished writing this, and - while I'm a bit sad to see it end - I'm glad to see my story join the 27 Club, right next to Kurt (which I think Tate would appreciate).

When I first started writing this story, three years ago, it was only for my own personal entertainment... because I hated how Tate's story was ended and how his character never developed and how they brushed over the fact that this was a clearly a teenager suffering. I didn't want him to be alone, so I dreamed up a girl with pink hair, and I wrote about them. I didn't think anyone would care, but I'm incredibly happy that people did.

I hope you enjoyed reading this story. I have a few one-shots that I'm working on, and - though I will make no promises about their posting dates - I hope you enjoy them should you read them, as well. Thank you for taking the time to read my work. Please comment your thoughts.

If you celebrate Christmas, I hope you are having a happy one; if not, I still hope your day has been beautiful.

I love you.