It's a long way, back to the place where we used to sit, when you and I were just little kids.

[pyratesss]

In essence, Bebe had known that the day wasn't going to end well, from the beginning.

Staying in bed all day would have been wiser, she now realized. Even her worry, her suspicion of a bad day, it hadn't stopped her, or hindered her plans, not in any way, but she would be feeling the inkling of dread for the entire evening. For the entire day, actually. From the time that she awoke in the morning, rolling out of bed, and checking the time on her cell phone, before noticing that it was raining. It was pouring, absolutely pouring, and turning all of Colorado's lovely snow into a rather disgusting slush. She had showered longer than she needed, longer than necessary, humming slowly, and washing her hair with her favorite shampoo, letting the hot water revitalize her body, in an attempt to start the day with bravado, and face it with vigor, but it hadn't been exactly possible.

Stan had picked her up, pulling up to the curb, and idling his tiny car beside it while she gathered her things, and pressed them rather haphazardly into her messenger backpack. If Wendy was busy, Stan always picked her up. Most of the time, Wendy was busy, with early morning meetings, or a breakfast with her mother. Since Bebe had begun dating Stan, Wendy seemed busy quite a bit..

Still, in the end, wasn't that what good boyfriends were supposed to do? And Stan Marsh was certainly a good boyfriend. An excellent boyfriend, a better boyfriend than Clyde had been, or any of the other boys. For all of their infatuation, they hadn't provided what she needed, not really.

There had been other boys, many of them. Bebe didn't consider herself a loose sort of girl, far from it, but she wasn't any picture of chastity. She liked to date, and she loved attention. There had been other boys, Clyde wasn't the first. Yet when he did get his chance, Clyde had almost been too much in his love. He had loved her desperately, and she had believed herself to feel the same, but things hadn't quite stayed. While her attention dwindled with their mundane existence, his love for her only seemed to intensify, and she felt suffocated. Gifts, dates, concerts, flowers. Perhaps it made her shallow, and she had voiced the fears to Wendy; was she a bad person, stopping in loving a boy because he loved her too much? Wasn't that just the silliest thing?

Wendy had assured her that it wasn't. At sixteen, it was natural to feel cornered in a relationship like that. She was just a child, really, in the grand scheme of life, and she had been feeling like she had given her hand in marriage before she could even drive a car. Her perfect match, too perfect for her, Clyde just wasn't it. Not that it helped that she had been finding herself with eyes for Craig, toward the end. Craig Tucker with his dark hair, witticisms, and his stupid video camera, documenting high school as the social experiment that it was.

It was natural, Wendy assured her, to find her attentions dwindling over time. Bebe was naturally fickle, and Clyde's mundane affections weren't risque enough to hold her in. And so dwindle they did, and so it had ended for her and Clyde, and it had been a rather large deal in the end. Lines were drawn, tears were shed, and before the day was over, she had ended up throwing herself at Craig, only finding more upset when he turned her down. For all of the ripping he did on Clyde, it seemed her was incapable of pushing that edge, betraying his best friend fully. Bebe would have liked to have said that she felt the same, that she could never betray Wendy. But in the end, it wouldn't be true, would it?

How long had the three of them been friends? Clyde and Bebe's dating had been a strain onto it, and the break up hadn't helped. Bebe's attraction to Craig had been the final straw. How many months had it been now, since she had been able to look at Clyde? At Craig? She had been out casted from their world for too long to get back in. Nights of movies, of video games. Sleeping over, sleeping in Clyde's bed, while Clyde and Craig slept on the floor, Clyde holding her hand over the edge of the mattress, ever the gentleman. Concerts in Denver, sitting on Craig's shoulders, holding Clyde's lighter to the sky.

All gone.

Again, Wendy had comforted her. Wendy had been the shoulder she had cried on, Wendy with her good advice, warm tea, and kind smile. What a perfect best friend, what a wonderful girl, how great. Wendy listened to everything, every boyfriend woe, every upset, with open arms, and open ears. Wendy didn't try to judge her, Wendy was the ideal mediator. She had been friends with the boys, of course, they had all been close, but being friends with Bebe came first and foremost. She made that much clear. It had been Wendy who had assured her that life would go on, that Clyde [and Craig] were not the end. Wendy did not point out that Bebe had dug her own hole, that it had been her who had grown tired, who had ruined the relationship, and thus the friendship.

Perhaps when they were older, when high school was less of an intense fixture, she and Clyde could be friends. She and Craig, and Clyde, the three of them again. Maybe during college, maybe after. Maybe they'd meet on a busy street, twenty years from now, and maybe they'd laugh about it all.

Maybe, maybe not.

That had been ages ago now, and on this rainy South Park morning, as she was filling her backpack, Bebe found her mind only flitted over the thought, as she stared out of her bedroom window. She saw Stan's car, and she smiled, and she thought absently what a good friend Wendy Testaburger was, even in her constant absence.

Stan had, essentially, been a rebound. She wouldn't admit it, but in her mind, she knew that it was plainly true. She wasn't sure if he realized, and if anyone else did. She hoped not, quite vaguely. Bebe had never particularly been close to South Park's famed foursome; it had always been 'Craig and those guys' that she had been close to. Wendy had Stan, and Wendy was the girl that seemed to find her way into that crowd. Of course, she and Wendy ruled fairly over their own clique; the girls looked to them, some with admiration, and some with distain, but all with their own eyes. When it came to the girls, she and Wendy were equals, close to all of them, all in the same way. With the boys, it was Wendy who adventured with Stan and his friends, and it was Bebe who completed Clyde and Craig's crowd.

Running into Stan at the party had been more of a fluke than an actual plan. She had no intention upon going to the party, but it had happened regardless. Wendy had last minute algebra homework, and Bebe had been feeling particularly down about Clyde [or was it Craig tonight]. She hadn't been able to focus at all upon her own homework, or even pay attention to television. She was a bit wary about Kenny McKormick [after a rather abysmal date in the ninth grade; just before he proclaimed his supposed flaming homosexuality to the entire town], but she figured that going to his party was better than wallowing in her own self pity for even a moment longer. Besides, Red was going, and Heidi was supposed to be there, too. And her ex-boyfriend[s?] were supposedly ditching out, in favor of working on Craig's latest film.

It meant Lizzy would be going, which was a given anyway with Kenny hosting, but Bebe could just ignore those whom she saw as undeserving of her attention; she would consider it a girls night, and Lizzy McKormick was very clearly not a girl.

Putting on her best smile, lipstick, and a dress that might have been just a bit too short for the occasion, Bebe had sauntered in with purpose, and found herself downing shots within the hour. Stan had already been half clocked when she had arrived, and she hadn't argued when he had slung his arm around her shoulders, and when he had offered her half of a can of beer. Home-made shots had followed, along with well placed glares from Kyle, as well as some concern from Heidi once Bebe really began to feel the effects of her liquor. Bebe had brushed it off, and had soon enough found herself swaying in something close to a dance, leaning heavily onto Stan, although his feet were no more steady. She could remember, vaguely, a Beatles song playing. At least, she thought that was what it was. Stan seemed to know the words, at least.

"You treat me badly, I love you madly, you've really got a hold on me."

Before the weekend had been over, they had been dating. It had been sudden, and though Bebe could only vaguely remember the party, she felt that she had made a good choice. Stan was outside of her typical circle, and Stan treated her well. It had probably helped that they had consummated their relationship almost immediately, that night at Kenny's house. It had only taken a few hours the morning after to decide that they could work as a couple. Stan had been a perfect gentleman, even with both of their heads splitting from hangovers. He had driven them to Benny's, and they had discussed the night over breakfast. He paid, she smiled. Stan told her that he'd had a crush on her since junior high school, he had been mildly jealous of Clyde, and Bebe was flattered. It was a good choice for her, a healthy choice for her.

She told herself that, and when she told Wendy the situation, she wanted to hear the same. It had been ages since Wendy and Stan had dated, not since the sixth grade; over five years now, and really, did elementary school dating really count? Bebe didn't think so. It may have been her own selfishness, leading her to believe that, to make herself feel less like she was accepting Wendy's left overs, but she wouldn't admit it. She had been lucky to receive Wendy's blessing, although the blonde knew it was forced. For all of Wendy's smiles, there seemed to be something more beneath, something Wendy didn't say. But if Wendy wasn't going to say it, then Bebe wasn't going to push it. All she could do was be happy that she had found Stan, someone to look after her, someone to think about other than Clyde [and Craig], and as far as Bebe was concerned, Wendy wished them well, despite whatever she was holding back.

Just because Wendy and Stan hadn't worked out, it didn't meant that she and Stan couldn't work out, right?

She couldn't ignore the change in Wendy, however. Wendy was still her best friend, still the ideal mediator, and the perfect companion. Wendy was still perfection, and yet Wendy was so distant. Always involved in their community, and their school, Wendy seemed suddenly to be twice as dedicated as she had ever been. Every suggestion from Bebe seemed to be declined politely. Dinner with her parents, a meeting, an obligation of some sort. Outside of school, they barely saw each other, and Bebe couldn't help but feeling that her best friend was slipping away. And she wasn't sure whether or not it was her own fault, as it had been her own fault when Clyde [and Craig] had slipped away, between her slender and shaking fingers, and off into another world completely.

Stan filled the void, the quiet times, and the empty spaces. When Wendy turned down a girls night, or a study session, Stan was there to take her for a drive, take her to a movie, to read over biology notes with her. At every turn where Wendy wasn't, Stan was, and though Bebe appreciated it, sometimes it was an unpleasant realization. She loved Stan, she knew that she loved Stan, but was it worth losing Wendy over? That was, assuming that Stan was the issue. Neither she nor Wendy would push the envelope, so Bebe couldn't be sure what the problem was, or if there even was a problem. Maybe Wendy was genuinely busy, too busy to have a full time best friend. This wasn't elementary school anymore; they would be seniors next year, and Wendy intended to make something of herself, Bebe knew that.

It was hard not to think of Wendy that morning, on the morning when she had inwardly known that the day was going to end badly. She was thinking of Stan, but Wendy was in the corner of her mind. She hadn't picked Bebe up in almost two weeks, and Stan had gladly picked up her slack, but Bebe would be lying if she had said that she hadn't felt her heart sink [just a little] when she looked into the rain and saw Stan's green Neon instead of Wendy's bright red Hybrid. Which always stood out so brightly, even in the rain, and in the snow, that constantly plagued their quaint town.

Once her things were packed into her school bag completely, and she had finished with her breakfast [just a plain slice of toast], she made a dash out of the door, calling an absent goodbye to her parents, and ducking into the car with ease. She slammed the door behind her, in a way that made Stan wince for the sake of his vehicle, as she shook some of the rain out of her curls. "It's really coming down," she informed him cordially, as he smiled at her, and leaned in for a kiss. "Cats and dogs," he agreed, the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as his lips met hers.

The drive to school had been quiet, with Bebe comfortable in her passenger seat, bag settled gently into her lap, and one of Stan's hands resting firmly onto the steering wheel, as his other lay entwined with Bebe's; fingers tangled together, and Bebe's thumb rubbing the top of his hand in slow circles. It was a lazy sort of day, Bebe decided, as she squinted against the rain lashing over the windshield. A lazy day, but something off, something was going to go wrong. With her free hand, she had reached for the stereo [a custom job installed by Kenny], and turned the volume to a dull rumble, before inclining her head in her boyfriend's direction. "We should go out tonight," she had suggested simply, and Stan glanced at her for just a second, before back to the road again. They were less than a block away from school now.

He had almost declined, since he had already agreed to spend the afternoon with Eric and Kyle. Since Kenny had begun working at the garage with Lizzy, the three of them had become a lot more bored in his noticeable absence. But Bebe was important too, and he knew that Bebe had been feeling rather down lately, since Wendy had taken on yet another obligation from school. She had actually started a new club completely, and it had been sucking up much of her time, what little that she had to spare. It had been leaving Wendy looking exhausted, and leaving Bebe feeling more neglected than Stan felt was necessary. Without a second thought, he nodded, and assured her that he would love to.

Just as Stan was backing into his usual parking space, right next to Kyle's smart car [a gift from Sheila and Gerald for his sixteenth birthday], they agreed upon going to a movie, and then dinner afterward. There was no time for specifics, with the first bell to ring in just moments, and with a soft kiss, they had exited the car, agreeing to meet in the parking lot after school. Bebe said she'd see him at lunch; they always ate together, along with their other friends, and then walked to Geography together. It was the only class they were sharing this semester. Unfortunately, it was also shared with Craig, although Bebe strained not to notice.

Almost as soon as she had entered the school, Bebe had realized that she had been right about it being an off day. It wasn't just the weather that was miserable, but most of the girls, as well. She shared her first class of the day, English, with almost all of her female friends; with their small school, there wasn't much variety in class population when it came to a mandatory course like eleventh grade English. It seemed that Millie was mad at Powder, for telling Heidi something she shouldn't have. This, in turn, had made Lizzy angry at Millie for involving Heidi, and had made Heidi nothing short of hysterical at the fact that her friends were fighting. And she was directly involved, and responsible in an unintentional manner. Just that alone was more than enough to frustrate Bebe, listening to the bickering, but the fact that Wendy sat beside Heidi and Lizzy, leaving her between Millie and Lola, with a glaring Powder behind them? Well, it didn't help her mood any.

There was a quiz in history, which she had completely forgotten about. She was almost certain she had failed, and when lunch came around, she managed to spill Stan's grape soda into her own lap, soaking her jeans, and staining her shirt. Geography was just a boring period, which she spent brooding over the failed test, and the wet clothing. By the time that the end of the school day actually came, she found herself in an incredibly sour mood. Any semblance of her good spirits from the morning were crushed by the hostility of her friends, and the poor escalation of her day in general. At three o'clock, after failing to catch Wendy at her locker to tell her that she was going out and that she'd call her when she got home, the blonde more or less dragged herself out into the student parking lot, waiting impatiently for Stan to arrive.

From the minute they had climbed into his car, they had begun fighting. First it had been about the fact that she wanted to be driven home in order to change her clothes, and then it had been about her bad ["bitchy" as Stan had called it] mood that she had gotten into. Bebe was certain that he had to be dense, not to be able to realize what was bothering her; wasn't it obvious enough? Where had he been all day? Had he missed everything? Why did boys have to be so dense, honestly? In her bitterness, she pointedly noted that if Wendy had been in his place, she would have known what was wrong, and she would have just dropped it. Unlike Stan, she wouldn't be pushing her luck.

They had driven to the Stevens house in silence, and Stan had almost considered calling off their date night all together, until Bebe got her act together, and stopped acting rather like a spoiled brat. A very pretty spoiled brat, true, but weren't most of them breath-takingly beautiful? Especially when they were having a tantrum. He couldn't deny his attraction to the flush in her cheeks, and the way her golden curls settled onto her shoulders as she slouched, and pouted. She was beautiful, even when she was angry, and.. frankly, he had already listened to Cartman rant at him for nearly the entire math period, about ditching his friends for his 'bitch'. Kyle had seemed reserved on the subject, but Stan had known he was none too pleased either. It was probably best that he went through with the plans with Bebe, rather than try to go and work his way back into the good graces of his best friends. Why couldn't she have just had cheerleading practice this afternoon instead?

When Bebe had returned to the car, Stan had calmed down a little. She had ducked inside long enough to change her outfit, and replace her school bag with her purse, before slipping back into her seat without a word. She still looked moody, and he didn't push her any further, driving to the movie theater without another word on the subject of her poor spirits. Again, she got out wordlessly, and it wasn't until they were inside of the building, that they began to argue once more. This time over the choice of film; it seemed that Bebe was about as enthusiastic about the idea of slasher films, as Stan was about the idea of romantic comedies. Bebe had given him a bitter look, blurting something about horror movies only being okay 'when Wendy held your hand during them', and Stan accepted it with a roll of his eyes. He didn't offer to hold her hand, easily noting the reference to Wendy specifically, and also feeling in no such mood to offer his spoiled girlfriend any sympathy.

In the end, they had come to an impasse upon their choice of film. Neither Stan, nor Bebe, seemed ready to give in on their choices, and before they realized it, an hour had passed, as well as several pairs of curious and staring eyes. Stan, never the type to make a scene if he could help it, couldn't say that he was pleased by the attention. But this was just typical Bebe, loving every minute of it, he was sure. There wasn't any attention that Bebe didn't love, that much he was also sure of. Even if it was bad attention. Separate movies had been the obvious choice, and with a huff, Bebe had stormed off to see her romantic comedy alone, refusing to allow Stan to pay for her ticket. Stan had double-checked the run time, making sure that they'd be exiting their movie at the same time, before disappearing to spend the next hour and forty minutes enjoying a zombie apocalypse, instead of arguing with Bebe Stevens, and wondering why he still felt sick with affection, even when she made him furious with frustration.

Dinner had gone no easier, when the movies had ended, just a few moments apart. Stan had been waiting patiently for Bebe outside of her theater entrance. They had once again found themselves unable to agree upon a place to eat, with Bebe wanting Italian, and Stan wanting Mexican. They settled for Chinese, driving in silence for the second time that day, as Stan pulled them into the parking lot for the City Wok. At least they couldn't argue over their menu choices, Stan thought idly, as he placed his own order, and waited for Bebe to do the same. They only made it twenty minutes into waiting for the food, before they were bickering again, and Bebe was crying suddenly, and harshly, but still looking elegant, even with thin splashes of mascara running down her cheeks. "Don't you even care about me?" she had spat, before pushing back her chair hard enough to knock it over, and storming toward the entrance. She was gone outside, into the rain, before Stan could even get his bearings enough to stop her. Their waiter was arriving with the food, surprised to see that Stan was now sitting alone, and with a heavy sigh, the dark-haired boy was reaching up to rub at the bridge of his nose.

Bebe trudged into the rain with her purpose, with her vigor, and with her bravado. She was still crying, hiccuping in between the disjointed sobs, and not caring at the way the rain was still falling in buckets, pelting against her face. It flattened her curly mass of hair, leaving it flat to her head, sticking against her face, her cheeks. It soaked through her thin jacket in seconds, and into everything else she was wearing, jeans and all, and she ignored the way that her sneakers were squishing with water every step that she took. She ignored the make-up that she knew was running over her face, knowing it was probably almost all washed away in the storm. She kept walking, jogging, almost running, and then full out running, pushing herself as hard as she could, as fast as she could, until the running was too much, and she had to slow down.

It was leaving an ache in her side, painful and dull. Yet she kept on walking against it, passing block after block, stopping only to yield to the traffic. No matter how bad she felt, and even if she still had no idea where she was going, she didn't want to end up flattened under anyone's car tonight. It was dark now, and freezing. The rain was slowly turning into hail, she could feel it. She could feel that, and the way that the wind was chilling her, pulling at her wet hair, in addition to the rain, making the feeling of being soaked through all the worse. Making her shiver, and making her want to cough. She was going to catch her death, she knew it; Wendy would be telling her so, if she was there, if she could see Bebe now, if she could spare the moment.

Wendy.

There was Wendy.

With a sudden realization, Bebe stopped in her tracks, just near the side of a large brick building, which she leaned against. It eased the pain in her side, and allowed her to try to catch her breath, though it still hitched in her crying. She wasn't sure where she was exactly, with her head so full of upset thoughts and frustration, she couldn't get her mind to process it, but she was fairly sure that she had run almost all of the way to the 'wrong side of the tracks'. The part of town her father was always warning her about, always a firm lecture. She was fairly sure that she might be only paces from the McKormick house. Thinking of Kenny, Stan's friend, and thus thinking of Stan, filled her with immediate bitterness. Reaching to the purse that hung from her side, as wet as every other part of her, she dug inside until she felt the familiar weight of her cell phone, lifting it out, and holding it in front of herself for just a moment, squinting at the display screen. With practiced ease, her wet fingers dialed Wendy Testaburger's cell number, knowing it by memory, and by heart. Holding the phone up to her ear, she found herself holding her breath, waiting for it to ring, praying the rain hadn't gotten into it, hadn't ruined it, ruined this chance.

When it did begin to ring, Bebe exhaled her held breath, before she inhaled sharply, and held this one too, waiting for Wendy to pick up. Please, let her pick up. Anything, just a moment, just pick up. When she heard the click on the other end, a sign that Wendy [or at least someone] had answered the other cell phone, Bebe let out her breath, before letting out another ragged sob. She had tried to refrain, but couldn't. She didn't allow Wendy even a chance to say 'hello', or to react to her crying. She relaxed her body, sliding against the wall behind her, sliding into a sitting position against it, ignoring the coolness of her jean clad legs settling onto the freezing sidewalk. She ignored the wind that was surely whipping against the receiver, probably making her very hard to hear, especially over the rushing pounding of the rain onto the concrete all around her.

"Please, come and get me, j-just.. Wendy, please, please come and get me. I need you."