Jesse turned for one last look at the town Winnie had lived in. Treegap, New Hampshire. A stick cracking underfoot startled him. Whirling around, he caught sight of a little girl half-hiding behind a tree.

"You may as well come out," he said with a slight frown.

The girl came shyly forward, and Jesse found himself staring at her. Winnie Foster. This girl looked impossibly like her. But Winnie hadn't taken the water at eleven, had she? He had told her to wait until she was seventeen! And Winnie had died. He had seen her grave. That was why he had come to Treegap in the first place; he had come to say a final goodbye to his partner in crime.

"You're a relative of hers," he said finally.

The girl looked perplexed. "Of who?"

"Winnie Foster." Winnie Foster, the girl who gave us something to live for, the girl who changed our inexplicably long lives. That Winnie Foster.

"Oh," the girl said indifferently. "Yes. She was my grandmother." She held out her hand with a sunny smile. "Winnie Jackson. Who are you?"

Jesse finally found his voice. "Jesse Tuck," he said, shaking her hand. "Y'know, Winnie Jackson, I knew your grandmother when she wasn't much bigger than you."

Winnie giggled. "That's impossible." Then she tilted her head, looking thoughtful. "My daddy's name is Jesse."

Jesse looked up. "Winnie Foster's son?" he asked. Winnie nodded the affirmative. Jesse cocked his head, feeling something warm grow inside his chest. A slow grin spread across his face.

"Winnie Jackson," he said, jumping down to sit beside her. "Have I got a story for you."

(A/N): Hey! This is my first story on this site, but I wrote it a while ago. Special thanks to my friend Flash for encouraging me to post it! Reviews are appreciated, and so are favorites, follows, and DMs. Thanks, lovely people!