The Fault is Not In The Stars But In Ourselves

To Repeat History--With A Few Minor Adjustments

A/N Warning: There is mention of death and murder, themes of mental health, negative self talk, and attempted suicide. If this is at all triggering, please reading with caution. As always, take care <3

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The last time Theo saw Tara Raeken before she died was on a bridge-her bridge. It had always been hers, since even before her death. She used to call it her 'home away from home,' because it made her feel safe. Secure.

It had been easy to convince her to go out there that night. He didn't remember how he convinced her, really, but he did know that she could never resist an adventure to her special bridge-especially on clear nights, when the stars sparkled so clearly in the sky that they would easily reflect against the clear water below.

On the bridge, he remembered standing next to her, elbows braced against the railing and arms crossed, looking down into the water. He remembered the silence-the somberness. He didn't remember why that feeling hung so tightly in the air that night, at least for Tara. Maybe for him, he was quiet with the awareness that he had just successfully lured Tara to her death... but Tara was quiet, too. She was sad. Serious. He didn't remember why, or if there was even a reason, but he remembered the feel of it-the pressure of it lying heavily on his chest like a 200lb weight.

Theo tried not to focus on that weight when he recalled the memory into his mind, tried not to focus on the profound gravity of the situation pressing in on him, tried not to focus on the body heat he felt from Tara... But instead, he focused on the sound of the gentle laps of water splashing against rocks-focused on the cold wind that had nipped at his face and whatever exposed skin it could find.

He tried to focus on the physical location, and on the coldness that came with freezing waters capable of potentially killing little girls that "fell" in.

When Theo opened his eyes, he found himself standing on Tara's bridge. He was leaning forward against the railing, arms crossed against the wood, just like he remembered being positioned all those years ago. The only difference was that now, the orb was in his hand-and it was glowing, radiating a golden light in the otherwise dark night.

He almost dropped the orb straight into the water below as he caught sight of his reflection.

He was smaller-younger.

He was eight-years-old again. He was human again.

His hands flew to his chest-to his heart. Pressing his palm down against his shirt, he could just barely make out the thump, thump, thump of his heart beat. Of his own heart.

It felt... off. Different.

It almost felt wrong.

"What's wrong?" A voice rang out from beside him, light and airy. Soft. "Asthma attack? ... Your heart?"

Theo spun towards the sound.

There, standing so close Theo would barely need to reach out to touch her... was Tara.

The air knocked out of Theo's body, like a direct hit to the gut, as he laid eyes on her.

Theo saw Tara every night when he closed his eyes-her curled dark hair, her slender frame. She was always soaking wet, water droplets sticking to her face like a permanent feature. Her eyes were always deadened and cold-empty. And her ribs...

She was always dead when he saw her in his dreams-nightmares-was the point. Always dead, always broken.

Now... Now, she was alive.