Green Eyes

"Long time no see!" Nye greeted as Cosima approached him, squinting against the sunlight.

"I'll say," she agreed. "It's been what? Two years? Holy crap you look different!"

"Two and a half," he corrected. Hey, it wasn’t a crime to keep track of the time. Nye inwardly complimented his poetry skills at this thought.

Cosima shrugged. "Two, two and a half, it doesn't matter. So, wanna come inside? How've ya been anyway? Sorry about Yolanda, she's hasn't quite mastered the Flying Hug yet." The two walked in through the door, Nye wiping imaginary dirt off his shoes on the doormat. His parents and Cosima's mother were still outside, chattering away about unimportant topics.

Friends...that were what she had called them. Not as the 'person I am forced to tolerate the existence of because my parents said so', but as a friend. Although there was still a slight dissatisfaction at the use of the word, Nye couldn't help but smile at her words.

"It's alright, she's not very strong." He lied casually. No way was he going to let her know a nine year old had practically crushed his ribcage to splinters.

"Really? I heard she practically choked Randall to death...I practically had to wrestle Landa off of him."

"Randall?"

Yolanda charged in and kicked off her flip-flops. "Randall is Cosima's boyfriend," she jibed with a sly smile.

Cosima scowled, "For the last bloody time, Yolanda, he is not my boyfriend." Somehow a newly formed knot in Nye's chest seemed to loosen slightly at her indignation.

"But you're always around him..." Yolanda pouted.

"You idiot," her sister growled, "he's my friend and catches the same bus home as we do, so of course I'd talk to him. Besides, he was asking me for help on how to ask Marcy to the school dance."

"Riiiiiiiight..." at this, Cosima turned around and whacked her little sister on the back of her pigtailed head.

"Eejit," she muttered affectionately.

Nye remembered something. "Oh yeah, Cosima, my mom said to give this to you...yeah...happy birthday." He took the small parcel out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her.

The teenage brunette grinned at him, "Thanks Nye!" she said cheerfully, placing the gift on a shelf behind her. "I'll open it later."

"Whaaat?" demanded Yolanda. "But I wanna see what's inside!"

"It's not even yours," Cosima pointed out. "Why don't you go do spy on Mom or something?"
The little girl pouted. "But she's boring. All she ever talks about is piano, work, and Daddy."

"Just because you never got a chance to meet him doesn't mean that-" Cosima started angrily, but then glanced out of the corner of her eye at Nye. She sighed, and said simply,

"Whatever, I don't even care."

Yolanda tilted her head to one side, as though listening to something. She had always had an acute sense of hearing, meaning her older sister often used her as an eavesdropping device. It was the perfect plan. Little children are just small enough to hide and not be seen, but they can see everything. Plus, Yolanda soaked up information like a sponge, committing even the tiniest details to the corner of her mind.

"Mommy's talking about her accident," she declared.

"Accident?" Nye couldn't remember any accident involving their mother.

Cosima shrugged. "It happened years ago, she should be over it by now. I've heard it a zillion times."

Nye looked at her, encouraging her to continue.

"It's nothing really. When Mom was a kid she was in a house fire. The detectors didn't go off. Some random dude who wasn't from the fire brigade charged in and saved her, but they never found out who he was and the body wasn't found. Mom says he looked exactly like our dad did, except he must have been heaps older because he was only thirteen and the savior must have been at least thirty, or so she says."

"Is that why she's always so afraid of fire?" Yolanda asked. "She never goes anywhere near the barbeque and won't even let us touch the stove."

"No, I’m pretty sure that started after Dad exploded in front of the mailman," she said dismissively. "Do you mind changing the subject? This is getting depressing."

Nye glanced around the room. The furnishing was modest, with some paintings up on the wall that looked like framed artwork from the two girls' school art class. He could tell because one of the drawings resembling a spoon and fork monster with bits of plaster stuck to it had Cosima Peterson: 4C scrawled on the bottom corner. His eyes drifted over the kitchen bench, the hardwood table, and the radio sitting on a bench to the side.

"So...what kind of music are you into these days?" he asked casually, trying to make conversation that wasn't about death or destruction. Pity, because that was all his friends would talk about. He was beginning to think a couple of them were bordering on delinquency. Good thing there was the outlet of video games, or Samuel and Eric might have set a few places on fire for real.

Cosima shrugged. "Oh, you know…this and that..." Suddenly she felt shy about her music tastes. Usually there was no problem telling people what she did and did not like, she was quite the smart aleck at school.

Yolanda interrupted. "She likes...um...who's the song when the friend moved away but she loved him forever and never got to say so?"

"Oh, come on, I only liked that song years ago," she said, going red but not breaking eye contact with Nye. Two and a half years ago to be precise.

To save her from further embarrassment, Cosima's phone started ringing.

She easily flipped the phone open. "Marcy?" she asked, and there was an excited babbling on the other end. "Finally, it's about time he asked you out!" she exclaimed with an I-told-you-so glance at Yolanda.

"Uh-huh, of course we have to get ready for the dance together, we're best friends! I'd beat you up if you hadn't invited me over!" she said jokingly. "Aw, that's so sweet of him!" She held up one finger to her mother who was indicating for her to get off the phone.

"Wait, what you mean that James and Mandy – you have to tell me everything! Fine, fine, call you tomorrow then? Alright...next Saturday's fine for shopping. Okay, see you then! Love ya, bye!" She flicked the phone closed with her index finger.

"Cosima Peterson, you should know better than to talk when there's company," her mother chastised her.

"No, its okay Mrs. Peterson, Yolanda was keeping me company," Nye assured her.

The woman smiled. "Call me Francesca, dear. Your parents and I were just coming in for some afternoon tea. Cosima, where did you get that bracelet?"

"It was a birthday gift, Mom," she said, "and yes, I will write a thank-you note later, but it would be rude to leave to go do so while we have guests."

Her mother gave her a withering smile that reminded Nye about what he and his father had said in the car. He cleared his throat. "So, how have you been, Francesca?" he asked politely.

Cosima's mother smiled. "Very well, thank you Nye." She turned to his parents. "Your son is so polite, if only Cosima could learn a thing or two from him."

Said girl rolled her eyes. "Mom, you New Yorkers have no sense of humor. This is Florida! I say we all go to the beach instead of sitting around here."

Francesca sighed, and, as though almost willing to get her daughter out of her beehive, suggested, "Why don’t the three of you walk down to it then? Just remember to wear lots of sunscreen, alright?" We have a lot of catching up to do."

"Woohoo!" Cosima grinned. "Nye, did you bring swim stuff?" she asked.

"Of course, this is Florida, remember?" He said, remembering the wet swim trunks he had thrown into a plastic bag in the back of the car.

"How could I forget?" She grinned impishly. "The state of sand, surf, and –"

"– stealing people's towels as they try and get their swimsuits on under them?" Yolanda supplied.

"Oh please, that guy was the epitome of why Speedos should be banned!" Cosima cried.

"We didn't want those little kiddies scarred for life. And I wasn't the one who did it, Marcy did!" She paused. "Although she probably should have done it before he started changing..." Cosima grimaced at the memory.

"Mommy thinks Cosima's a bad girl!" Yolanda teased.

"Landa, quit with the baby voice, alright? Just go get your freaking swimsuit on!"

"And that your language is too vulgar..." her sister sing-songed.

"You don't even know what 'vulgar' means. Now get up there and get changed! Shoo!" Cosima grinned at the fairer haired youth. "Bathroom's second door to the right. Meet you and Landa back here in...three minutes! Ready, set, GO!" She charged off towards her room, laughing wildly all the way.

Cosima giddily danced her way back to her bedroom and began rummaging through the closet. She'd never had much time for cleaning, usually a phone call from her friends distracted her ever time she'd tried. Flinging aside some socks, the brunette grabbed hold of the bikini her friends had bought for her as an early birthday gift. She'd known all along what it was, having gone with them to buy it.

She smiled happily to herself, what a birthday it had been so far! The Watsons had come for a visit! She knew full well that her birthday wasn't the reason, and that they'd only visited because of convenience, but it still made her heart leap softly. Inwardly, she berated herself. She and Nye hardly saw each other, and he'd just been in the wrong place at the wrong time when her hormones kicked in.

Heck, she'd been twelve at the time. What did she know about anything?

Que sera sera,, he reminded herself, what happens happens. Enjoy it while you can. She began to sing absentmindedly.

Do you remember when you were 15?
And the kids at school called you a fool 'cos you took the chance to dream
In the time that's past and the one thing that will last
Is that same old song that we played along and made my daddy cry

I miss those days and I miss those ways
When I got lost in fantasies
In a cartoon land of mysteries
In a place you won't grow old, in a place you wont feel cold

"Da da da da da da..." she half-hummed to herself, spinning in circles onto her unmade bed. Cosima sighed contentedly and closed her eyes.

She was walking along a sidewalk, sunlight warming her back. Few cars were on the road, and she could smell the salty water of the sea from nearby. She knew this place well. Groups of teens walked amiably across the street and headed to the beach, chatting casually about something or other.

Two women walked casually side-by-side; out to enjoy the weekend without the hassle of work or whatnot. Cosima recognized one to resemble her mother with a more youthful look, one that did not speak for years of widowing. The other lady looked like Grace, Nye's mother, who was often joked to have never changed in appearance since High School. Nye's father, Victor, her college sweetheart also followed, arm draped casually over his wife's shoulders.

"It's nice to see them all get along like this, isn't it?" Cosima's mother remarked casually to the couple.

Grace laughed. "Watch out Francesca, I might just have found my future daughter-in-law!"

"Aren't you getting a bit ahead of yourself, honey?" Victor asked, a smile spreading across his features. His half-German descent was where his son had inherited the blond hair and emerald eyes.

"Don't be silly, they're getting along like newlyweds!" Grace exclaimed. "Speaking of which, how is Jason doing, Fran?"

"Oh, he's busy as usual, we're thinking about having another child sometime."

"Ooh, really? Any baby names you've got in reserve?"

Francesca shrugged. "Cosima's very keen on the name Tinkerbell for a girl, haven't you, darling?" She ruffled her daughter's hair. "But I actually really love your middle name, Gracie."

Grace smiled. "Yolanda Peterson. It's got a very nice air to it, don't you think?"

The brunette teenager observed them. She smiled serenely at the sight, the comment about newlyweds making her torn between chuckling and blushing. Glancing downwards, she could indeed see what the adults were talking about.

"Race ya!" A little boy with floppy, white-blond hair stuck his tongue out childishly and took off running.

The spindly girl behind him pouted. "Hey, you cheated!" She struggled away and chased after him.

Cosima remembered this, remembered her younger counterpart. Even before Nye's father had shouted, she had already taken off, running as fast as her legs would carry her. She knew what was going to happen, and knew what she had to do. It was her choice, and she wouldn't regret it.

Knowing she wouldn't have time to move him, Cosima brutally shoved the boy out of harm's way. The younger version of Nye tumbled across to the opposing sidewalk, a few scrapes and bruises but otherwise uninjured. Cosima felt herself to relax as the vehicle slammed into her, crushing her small frame. She felt no pain. Just contentment.

"Nye, are you alright! That girl...she..."Cosima's vision blurred as she stared at her five-year-old self, who had run directly to Nye. Just as she would do for years to come. Nye himself had began talking, but she only caught the last two words he said.

"...it's okay."

Cosima opened her eyes.

She was covered in blood.