Everything That Rises

I don't know why I'm scared
I've been here before
every second, every word
I've imagined it all

- one and only, as performed by liz gillies

Her head lay flat against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, trying to pull her closer. Into the expanse of her hair, he whispered quietly, "I love you."

She pulled away, her head floating just above his. "You need to get over me. Go back to Vega; heck knows that she loves you more than I could now."

"You're still here," he pointed out. "If you didn't love me, you wouldn't be here."

Her eyes seemed to darken. "You know that I love you. It's just…"

"It's not enough," he replied softly, staring at her.

"Not anymore," she responded, voice harsher than before. Stepping down from the bed, she cast him one last look over her shoulder before she took off, slamming the door behind her. All that she left behind was a wind that traveled through the RV, chilling him to the bone.

It was almost as if she'd never been there. The remnants of her were everywhere, and he longed to pull her to him again, or walk out and call her name into the emptiness. It was her, though, and therefore no amount of begging or pleading would bring the stubborn girl back to him.

He dropped to his knees.

.

She showed up at school the next day, though he'd highly doubted that she would. The haunted look in her eyes was still there, and it showed every time she glanced at the people in the hallways. He noticed absently how her eyes focused on Cat's teary ones, and she caringly reached out an arm to put around Cat's shoulders. Cat didn't seem to notice.

He offered her a half-smile. "I didn't know that you could be so caring."

"Yeah, me neither," she replied absently, rubbing circles into Cat's back before sighing. "Everything's clearer now."

He still caught the bitter glances that she threw at Tori, as if Tori had something that she couldn't have, but somehow she seemed less blunt and more caring those days.

Her hand roamed along André's back, as if offering silent comfort. André threw her a quick smile, though Beck couldn't judge whether it was directed at her or at Tori.

Her lips ghosted just over the top of his ear. "You have class soon; you should be on your way."

"You have class too," he reminded her, his eyes boring into hers. He could see the resolution in her eyes, how determined she was to keep going even when she was literally wearing thin, and he sort of admired her for it.

"I'm not going," her lips drew into a thin line, and she sighed aloud. "It's not as if anyone will miss me. Sikowitz won't even notice."

For some reason, he felt obligated to apologize. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she retorted, giving him the darkest glare that she could muster up. "It doesn't change anything."

She gave him a look that was full of the deepest emotion he'd ever seen, and turned to storm off. Her feet didn't make any noise as they touched the ground, but he winced nonetheless as he turned to walk off. He was sure that the same tortured look was mirrored in his eyes.

.

"Beck," the therapist said hesitantly, "do you ever think that you might have some emotional trauma?"

His 'girlfriend' snickered behind him, leaning up to place her feet on his chair. He had no idea why they'd let her in there, but they didn't seem to have any objections about allowing her to listen in, so he'd brought her along.

Sighing, he shook his head. "No, I don't, and I don't want to talk about it."

"You came here because you need to talk about it," the therapist replied sharply. "So tell me what happened—"

"Nothing happened," he mustered up a smile, probably about as fake as it got. "I'm perfectly fine, in the brain and in the body."

"If you're sure," the therapist trailed off hesitantly. "Your parents seem to think that there's something wrong. Apparently, they've thought these things ever since you moved out to live in the RV, and all the more since—"

He interrupted, springing up from his chair, and he could nearly feel her eyes watching him in approval. Darkly, he told the woman, "I told you that I don't want to talk about it. I'm absolutely fine and talking to you cannot and will not 'fix me' or whatever you think you're trying to do." Leaning down, he took the girl's hand and pulled her to her feet. "Let's blow this popsicle stand."

Hand in hand with his 'girlfriend', he dashed out of the office, trying to keep the fact that the lady would only be convinced of his insanity now out of his mind. He felt free for once—free of people's opinions, free of the pressure that seemed to constantly hang over him.

Then suddenly, the pressure on his hand was gone. He turned to question her, but when he turned around, he realized that she had run away once again and he was left completely alone.

Falling to the ground, he perched on the curb and set his head into his hands, one of his hands ruffling his hair unhappily.

A raindrop fell onto his head, followed by another one, and he thought absently that he couldn't stop the rain, just like he couldn't stop life and fix all of his mistakes.

If he could, he definitely would.

.

"Let's go to the fair," Cat said, and she smiled. It was enough to shower a rain of happiness over Beck—these days, no one ever smiled, so this was rare.

The girl to his left squeezed his hand indignantly. When he turns to stare at her, she whispers unhappily, "I hate fairs."

"Don't go, then," he hissed back before turning to face the rest of them. "The fair sounds good to me."

Angrily, the girl kicked him in his shin as if to protest, but it didn't hurt at all. Cat's face lit up. "Ooh, yay! Robbie, Tori, André, Ja—the rest of you, are you in?"

André, who looked both sad and shocked, nodded quietly. "Yeah, I'm in." His arm snaked silently around a depressed-looking Tori's shoulders. All of them looked rather down for a moment, and even cheery Cat looked a bit sad.

Of course, she hated it when people wallowed in their own misery, so she yelled, "SNAP OUT OF IT, YOU IDIOTS' at the top of her lungs. He turned around in shock, and André looked up, but the rest of them just pretended as if they hadn't heard her.

"Tomorrow, then," Cat smiled slightly, leaning up to kiss Beck's cheek (which causes her to tense beside him and squeeze his hand tightly). Giving the rest of them sweet smiles, she said brightly, "I'm excited!"

They all returned her smile, but as soon as she skipped off, they stared at each other in obvious despair. Finally, André broke the silence. "I'm headed to class," he informed the rest of them, casting one last glance into the air as if someone would try to stop him.

No one did.

One by one, the group separated, but Beck never left his girl's side. He turned slowly to face her. "I have to go to class."

She offered him a half-smile. "Have fun."

He placed his hands on either side of her face, being all the more precise with his movements. "I love you."

She stared at him, biting her lip slightly. "You really, really shouldn't."

Being the rebel that he was, he threw caution to the wind and leaned into kiss her. Once his lips pressed against hers, he knew it was wrong. Her hand came up to hold his face, and his arms snaked around her waist, but he could feel the cold wind blowing and telling him that this was oh-so-wrong. After just a moment, he pulled away. "I…I..I'm sorry."

Then he slumped to the ground, and when he opened his eyes, she was gone. He'd like to assume that she'd gone to class, but of course, he highly doubted it.

For once, he decided to be the bad boy, and he didn't go to any of the rest of his classes that day.

.

He went to the fair the next day because he honestly doesn't see a way out of it, and when he arrives, he sees Cat's face legitimately light up. He almost feels good about going, and he greets all of them that had already arrived.

Then, out of nowhere, she appeared. She didn't bother greeting Cat or anyone else; instead, she instantly focused all of her attention on Beck. He grabbed one of her hands, pulling her to him. "I thought you hated fairs."

"I don't hate you, and you're going, so I want to go," she replied innocently.

He sighed, obviously allowing her to go along, because he could never tell her no. They started off for the fair not long afterward, and everyone seemed to be in a much better mood, which only worsened hers. She glared at everyone possible, but they seemed to not notice her at all.

"Win me a stuffed animal," she demanded, giving him a do-what-I-say-or-you'll-regret-it look.

He just shook his head. "Conspicuous much? Let's just go on the rides and all."

"Look at this game!" Cat grinned. "It's just Jade's type of game; don't you think?"

Staring at the game, Beck had to agree. It was dark and creepy, and all the prizes are different sorts of creepy animals, such as spiders and the like. With a grin, he tugged her forward. "See, they're thinking of you."

She scowled, but nodded nonetheless.

They rode rollercoasters and tunnels of love, squished closed together, but it still didn't feel normal. He still felt that inherent sense of emptiness that he'd been feeling for a while now and he didn't know how to get rid of.

At the end of the day, he looked at her with wide eyes. "I'm sorry."

She didn't respond.

.

Somewhere along the line, he decided that he had to get help. He just couldn't keep living like this and pretending that everything was all right, when truthfully it had gone to pieces.

Obviously, she tried to stop him, because really, she couldn't ever just let things be. She took hold of his arm, but he tugged it out easily.

With big, worried eyes, she told him sharply, "Beck Oliver, you cannot tell anyone about this."

"I can, and I will," he hissed back. "You do not control me."

"I'm not trying to," she retorted quickly. "This is important, though. If it wasn't, I wouldn't put up a fight, but this is compromising everything that we've worked for—"

"This isn't what we've worked for," he stared at her before saying the words that had been bubbling up in the back of his mind for ages. "You're not Jade."

It seemed to float in the air between them; the three words that they both sort of knew were true. She opened her mouth as if to protest, but he held up his hand and swung it at her face, as if to slap her. She didn't even bother to move, and his hand went right through her.

Tears welled in the corners of his eyes, but he stopped them. Biting his lip, he told her once again, "I'm sorry."

With that, he walked off, finally being the one to disappear for once.

.

The therapist pulled out her pen, touching it to the notepad. With a kind smile, she informed him, "I'm so glad that you've decided to come clean. Now, tell me—what is it that has been troubling you? What's made you go insane? Is it something with that friend of yours that died in a car accident?"

"Her name was Jade," he corrected her, finally mustering up the strength to speak of her in the past tense. "And Jade was not my friend; she was my girlfriend. She was, in essence, my world, and I loved her more than anyone could. When she died, I was shattered, and I had no idea how to go on with life. That was, until she appeared in my room that night."

"After that, she continued to appear—not just in my dreams at night, or in my room, but she traveled with me everywhere I went. No one could hear her but me, though, and no one could see her but me. People accused me of talking to myself, when really, I was talking to her. She tried to control me, to tell me where I could go and that I couldn't flirt with any other girls while I was still dating her, but you see the problem—she was supposedly dead."

"She definitely wasn't alive, though; whenever I tried to touch her or kiss her, my hand went right through her. I suppose a part of me always knew that it couldn't last, and that it wasn't actually her. A part of me knew that this 'Jade' was simply a figment of my imagination. But I just craved to touch her, to hold her, and I figured time after time that this was the closest that I'd ever get to her, so I'd better be grateful."

"But after time, she just grew all the more controlling, and I knew that I couldn't do it anymore. She tried to stop me from coming here; she claimed that it would blow everything that we'd worked for. But I knew better. I couldn't keep doing it anymore. She wasn't Jade. The Jade West that I knew, that I loved, was buried in the ground, never to be seen again. This Jade was an illusion painted by my mind."

As he finished, he inhaled deeply and ran a hand through his hair. At last, he looked up at the lady. "I think that I have serious mental issues, don't I?"

"This could be some sort of PTSD, but yes, it is quite the strong psychological issue," the therapist told him. "I don't think that you're at serious risk right now, so I'll turn you back over to the care of your guardians. Go home, take some time to think things out and chase away this illusion of Jade. We'll check you in tomorrow."

He nodded and stood up, walking out of the hospital, but he didn't wait for his guardians to come and 'fetch him'. Instead, he took off running.

Wind flew against his hair, dragging him back, but he wasn't about to be stopped. He kept on running and running. Visions of Jade flashed behind his eyes—not the ghostly Jade, the Jade that he had loved. The Jade that, if he was being truthful with himself, he still loved.

He made it to the graveyard, and tore through it like a hyped-up racecar. Throughout the last few weeks, he'd memorized the path to her gravestone, and he fell before it as if there was some sort of force there, drawing him to his knees. He traced the letters with shaking fingers—Jade West. Never afraid to say what needed to be said. 1994—2013.

The Jade that he knew and loved was buried here. The other Jade was just a figment of his imagination.

It hit him with the force of an emotional tidal wave that he would never see the first Jade again. He'd never get to feel her silky skin, or kiss her lips. He'd never get to entangle his hands in her hair or tell her that he loved her, and it hurt.

As if to make up for it, he bent down lower in front of the grave and whispered solemnly, "I love you, Jade. I love you."

There was no sound, no indication that she'd heard him—not that he had thought there would be. A single tear spilled out of his eye, but he wiped it away quickly. What would Jade say if she saw him crying?

All he could think right now was that he couldn't go on living like this. So, running a hand through his hair again, he made up his mind.

He took off running and running until he made it to his room at last. Once he was there, he took the gun out of his parents' cabinet and stuffed it into his shirt.

"Beck, honey, want a cookie?" his mom said with a smile.

"Nah, I'm fine," he lied. "I just have to get some homework done, so would it be all right if I did that first? I'll talk after that."

"Listen, honey," his mom set down the tray of cookies and gave him a concerned look. "Your therapist called. She was saying something about the fact that you had serious mental issues—"

"I know, I know," he interrupted again, not in the mood to discuss such trivial things. "And we'll have all the time in the world to discuss them after I finish my homework, all right?"

"Okay," his mom replied uneasily. "Come back to the house after you finish, hear?"

Quickly, he nodded, and ran out, slamming the door behind him. One he got to the RV, he took the gun out of his pocket and stared at the shining metal before tracing it with his finger as well.

Was he really going to do this? Was he going to do the unspeakable? Was he going to make people suffer again the way that they had suffered for Jade?

The problem was, he was tired of suffering for Jade. He just wanted to be with her, wherever she was, and there was really only one way to do that.

He pulled out a piece of paper, and scribbled his last few words on it in a messy scrawl:

Dear everyone,

I'm sorry, but I couldn't do this anymore. I couldn't live my life with constant regret and longing and guilt, and if she's just going to haunt me… I don't want her ghost. I want her, and this is the only way to get her.

I'm sorry.

-Beck

"You jump, I jump," he muttered under his breath, checking to ensure that the gun was loaded before raising it to his head. With a shaking hand, he pulled the trigger quickly and shut his eyes.

Bam.

His last thought before he slumped to the ground was of Jade, and he could almost see her smiling and telling him that he'd made the right decision.

Beck Oliver was discovered dead 2 hours later by his mother. People said later that the twisted smile upon his face was almost proof that he was happy.

.

A/N: I have legit no idea what this is, and it was terrifyingly scary, but if you enjoyed it or were creeped out by it, please leave a review. It means the world to me. Also, don't favorite without reviewing. Though I doubt anyone will, but. Yeah.