Disclaimer: I don't own any characters.

Summary: Steve muses about someone who comes for a visit.

Warning: Refers to a Character's death.

Author's Note: At the moment I work on a longer, totally different story, but this one just came to my mind when I heard something about the later mentioned topic on radio. It's short, but I wanted to publish it anyway, just to show that people still care for the Fab Four. Hope you can enjoy it. BTW, English is not my native language, I hope it does not show too much.

It's late evening, almost five o'clock. I stand at the door that leads towards the porch, looking out of it's window. Outside, the sun pours the beach in a warm, golden glow, but a strong wind causes the ocean to go wild and produce big waves. It's a perfect day to go out for a surf. I haven't gone for a surf in a long time. It had never been my most favorite thing to do on the beach - jogging is way more fun and easier to get to know some nice women, as my father once put it. What's more important, it doesn't make me remember.

I take a look at my wrist-watch. Five minutes to go. She said she would be here at five. I have known that she would come here for about a week now, but I still don't know how to feel about it. It's going to be strange, that I am sure of. For all of us. She is a perfect stranger - maybe we won't even like her. For me, that's not too bad, I don't expect me to like her, but the others... I think that's what they hope. That they like her.

They contacted us a few weeks ago. An agency, to keep up the anonymity. We could have said no to the agency. I would have. What good does it do? What do we need to get her know for? Even if she was nice, she is some stranger. Not my best friend. No one ever will be.

We spoke about it. First of all, I spoke with Dad. They had called him, because he was listed as close family. My dad and his mum, but she did not care to meet the woman either. I can understand.

But Dad.

"Steve, I think it is a good thing to do."

"Nothing is good about this."

"Still, I think it's important. For her as well as for us. She only wants to get to know us. Find out who we are. Find out who he was. We can answer her that. Better than anyone else."

"What for? It's not like she's ever going to meet him."

I remember how angry I was. It felt like betrayal. I did not want her in this house, did not want her to meet us, did not want her to see this ocean. This wonderful, great ocean, the perfect place to go surfing.

Still, Dad. He wanted to get to know her. I realize now how important this is to him. For the first time since the crash, he was really eager about something that has to do with it. He seemed so lively. It was – it is - good to see him like that. He had been devastated, especially since he had not been able to safe him. He had no chance. It had been too late even as he got delivered into the hospital. Too late to do anything else but declare that the most important part of him had died.

Amanda was the same. After the crash, I often saw her crying or choking up tears that wanted to be shed. I felt so sorry for her, even though I wasn't better. But she hurt on the outside. She hurt a lot. And with her, the children hurt as well. Dion did not find it easy to cope with his death, but eventually he managed. CJ on the other side was much worse. Amanda told me that the boy cried for many nights in a row, and even now he sometimes wakes up at night, crying out for his 'uncle'.

She agreed to the meeting as well. Like my father, she was delighted to hear that one of them was interested to meet us. One of those people he had saved.

My dad and Amanda are sitting at the dinner table, waiting for her to arrive. I glance towards them and see their anticipation. Amanda watches the clock again and again, clicking with her fingernails on the table. My father seems nervous, too, but his calm demeanor covers it. As the time approaches, I feel my stomach churn, feel a sickness rise. It still makes me angry. Angry and sad and disappointed about life and it's way to throw things at us. It should have never happened. The other car's driver had been drunk, not for the first time, but no one seemed to care. Nothing had happened to him. Jesse had pulled the steering wheel around and gone off the street, right into a tree. at first they had thought he had been lucky. He had injured his head, but other than that, he was actually fine. A few scratches, a broken leg. Nothing worse than that.

When he arrived at the hospital, he was already brain-dead. Somewhere along the way, a swelling had come up, a vein erupted, everything went out. The whole hospital had been devastated, not able to do anything about it.

It was not difficult to decide about organ donation, not even for his mother. Jesse was a great doctor, always caring about others more than about himself. He gave so much - his attention, his skills, his time. Everything. The last thing he did in his life was saving even more people.

I miss him. Every damned day of my life I miss him. He was my best friend, my partner, my side-kick. I never really told him, but I liked the way he always snooped around my cases. I think he would have grown to be just like my Dad.

The door bell rings. I do not know what kind of person stands out there. Will she be nice? Kind? Charming? Buoyant? That's what Jesse always was, buoyant. And curious. He certainly would have wanted to know this woman. He would have wanted me to know this woman. I sigh. Then I walk towards the door, to greet the woman that carries Jesse's heart.

The End