A/N: Second flashback chapter! Hopefully another insight into the beginnings of Tate and Charlotte's relationship. Not dating quite yet buuut...

Flashback: September 19th, 1992 - Meeting Again

That Friday at lunch, Charlotte had walked past her usual table and ventured outside, finding a shady spot for her and Tate to talk. Not just about birds, but about their lives outside of school: their music tastes (he liked Nirvana, she had a guilty pleasure for boy bands), their plans for after graduation, their shared issues with their overbearing mothers. He had even offered to walk her home, meeting her at the front of the school to walk the short mile to Charlotte's one-story townhouse on the edge of downtown. She had watched him walk away, how he had turned around as soon as she was inside and started back in the direction of the school, having gone completely out of his way to walk with her. Charlotte had fought to conceal her grin before her mother noticed.

But that had been over a week ago.

After that Friday, Tate didn't seem to be around as much. He had missed their first period the following Monday, Charlotte noticing how mundane things seemed without his usual routine. When he showed up for class that Tuesday, he kept his head down, pushing his way out of the room as soon as the bell rang. She never saw him in the hallway and he couldn't be found during lunch. Whenever she did see him after school, he was by himself, a cigarette smoldering in his fingers as he sulked in the distance, heading in the opposite direction from her. It was as if the weekend had changed him.

Charlotte sighed and leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees as she brought herself back to the present. She peered out the bay windows of her living room, the same place she had watched Tate walk away from. She knew reminiscing wouldn't help, but it was better than doing what she had been doing all day: nothing.

The room behind her, like every other room in the Winters' household, reflected the aesthetic her no-nonsense mother wanted: homey, but never too lived in. She had wanted their interior design to reflect the idea of a 'perfect family', without the effort it would have taken her to turn the idea into a true reality. The very atmosphere made Charlotte choke.

Her room was her only escape from the mundanity of her family. Her father was always distracted, a loving but scatterbrained author who was always locked in his office and busy working on his latest novel. Her mother, on the other hand, worked hard from home, both as an editor and a jailor for her daughter, managing to play the role of dutiful housewife while keeping her daughter locked away from the world. But when Charlotte was home, Vera had little control over what went on behind the door of her daughter's bedroom. Charlotte usually holed herself up in there, entertaining herself with her books or by blaring her music, trying to forget the rules and expectations that awaited her on the other side of her locked door.

It was another dull Saturday in the Winters household, and despite it being a beautiful LA day outside, Charlotte was bored to tears.

When the phone rang, Charlotte nearly sprinted to be the one to answer it, grabbing the receiver from its hook on the wall a second before her mother could. Vera gave her daughter a small disapproving frown, remaining mindful of wrinkles, and mouthed 'no running'. But she didn't argue, simply making her way back into her kitchen.

"Winters residence, Charlotte speaking," she answered breathlessly. The generic phone message was just one of the many rules her mother had set that irked her to no end, but she knew that answering without repeating it, especially with her mother only a few feet away, would lead to far worse punishment than a little self-humiliation.

"Charlotte, hi!" a female squealed on the other end.

Charlotte released the breath she didn't realize she had been holding. She had managed to slip Tate her phone number when he dropped her off on Friday and she had been hoping, half-heartedly, that he would call, but she hadn't realized how nervous she was of it actually happening. And how relieved she was that it wasn't him.

"Hey, Libby. What's up?"

"There's this party at Chloe's tonight! Everyone's going! And we totally want you to come over now and, like, hang out before it really gets going, okay? She's even ordering pizza!"

Charlotte twirled the phone's cord between her fingers and rolled her eyes lovingly at the bubbly teen on the other end of the line. It truly was going to be a party if Chloe Stapleton, head cheerleader at Westfield High, was ordering pizza. She glanced into the kitchen where her mother was obviously trying to hear what was being said. It was a risk to ask to go out so late-notice, but it was worth trying in order to get out of the suffocating house.

"A history project? Of course, I'd be happy to help, Libby." Charlotte adopted a chipper tone, knowing that the sudden conversation switch would confuse the simple teen on the other end of the line. She put her hand on the speaker, muffling Libby's confused reply, and leaned towards the kitchen. "Hey, mama?"

Vera looked up from where she was pretending to sort through a few loose papers on the counter, a few curled strands of her mousy brown hair falling from her tightly wound bun. She looked out of place in her own home, a recently ironed, frilly pink apron tied tightly over her usual no-nonsense business attire. She narrowed her eyes, a sign that she was ready for Charlotte to continue.

"Can I go to Chloe's? Libby asked if I could come over for dinner and help them on their history fair project."

A white lie, she knew. She would add it to her always growing list later. Her mother had such high expectations for her to be such a perfect daughter, and the only way for her to match her mother's expectations while having any sort of life herself was to spin a few webs of white lies. It was a price she was more than willing to pay.

With a sigh, Vera glanced at the clock on the wall. "Fine. Back by ten, young lady."

Charlotte knew when to pick her battles, and this one was not worth fighting. She blew her mom a 'thank you' kiss, turning away to silence the still whining Libby.

"I'll be over in 30."

She hung the phone back on its mount, rushing to her room before her mother could think of any other questions for her. She threw on a black and white striped shirt and high-waisted shorts, knowing that Chloe's party would be huge, but casual, a bunch of drunk juniors and seniors in their letterman jackets. She threw her hair up into a ponytail and slipped on sneakers as she raced out the door.

A few hours later that party was in full swing. Charlotte sat at the Stapleton's bar in the kitchen, half-heartedly sipping a beer from a Red Solo cup and watching the grinding mass of intoxicated teens in the darkened living room.

When she had arrived earlier, the pizza had just been ordered and the few lucky girls, the friends that Chloe had deemed 'enough' to come over early and hang out, were sprawled in Chloe's bedroom, pulling outfits from her stuffed closet. Despite her adamant declining, the girls had taken one look at Charlotte's outfit before deciding that she needed a makeover. Mercifully, they had let her keep the striped shirt but had convinced her to exchange the shorts for a black corduroy skirt and her sneakers for a pair of black wedges, leaving her dressed just like the rest of them.

While she had been personally invited, Charlotte couldn't help but always feel a little out of place when it came to parties like this. She was relatively popular, never really needing to look too hard to find a familiar face in the halls. She had been a cheerleader her freshman year, happily accepting one of the coveted positions as flyer, much against her mother's wishes. But, after landing a stunt wrong during the homecoming pep rally, her heel bones cracked and the injury, however minor at the time, kept her off her feet and left her cheering from the stands for the remainder of the season. From then on, she seemed to teeter on the edge of full-blown popularity. Girls seemed to like her because she was unproblematic, making them feel safe in the hell that was high school. Boys liked her because she was pretty, and nobody had had her yet, which made her an even more coveted item. She constantly studied those around her, trying to decide if they were being friendly out of genuine interest, or because she was an easy pawn. Her social status never really bothered her, but she hated the feeling of being used.

Charlotte sighed and glanced at the clock. 8:45. She took another small sip of her beer, considering chugging it down in order to get a little tipsy before curfew.

"Boo."

Charlotte jumped, nearly spilling the beer on her borrowed skirt. She whipped around, eyes blazing, and came face to face with the devil himself, Tate Langdon, casually leaning on the other side of the bar. Her light eyes met his dark ones, which were crinkled as he smiled, something she hadn't seen since they walked home together.

"Jesus Christ, Langdon. You scared the shit out of me."

Tate moved around the bar towards her. She felt her skin flush as his fingers brushed against hers, plucking the beer from her grip and gulping it back. He ran a hand through his hair as he slumped into the stool next to her.

"Long time, no see, Winters."

"You're the one who fell off the face of the Earth." Charlotte leaned closer to him, a matching grin growing on her face. Despite her mocking, she was happy to see him interacting again. "Where the hell have you been?"

The smile faltered on Tate's face for a moment, and he took another chug of the beer, draining the cup to avoid Charlotte's eyes. "I had some, ah, stuff to deal with. At home."

His tone had grown surprisingly cold, nothing like she had heard from him before. Charlotte wasn't sure how to react. She suddenly realized that, outside of seeing him around the school for the better part of the year, they had really only known each other for that one afternoon. He just made her feel at ease, like they had known each other forever, but she didn't even know what to say to take his mind off of whatever was bothering him. Almost nervously, and without thinking, she placed her hand on his jean-clad knee, giving him a small pat of support.

Tate's smile returned and he locked eyes with Charlotte again, making her heart race. She tried to move her hand from his knee before it got awkward, but he was faster, grabbing it as he glanced towards the still growing crowd of dancing teens.

"Let's dance."

Charlotte nearly choked out of surprise.

"You don't really seem the dancing type."

She eyed Tate up and down, taking in his usual attire of a Nirvana shirt and ripped jeans. Nothing about him screamed 'dancing'. Hell, he didn't even seem to be the party type, but here he was, sitting inches away from her as if he hadn't spent the past week avoiding human contact like it was the plague.

"And you didn't seem the stalker type," Tate countered cooly, cocking his eyebrows up at her. "But I've seen you watching me when you walk home."

Charlotte involuntarily gasped, aware that her face was turning the same shade as her hair. She tried to sputter out an excuse, anything to disregard what he had said, but Tate just stood and grinned down at her, still holding her hand.

"Come on." Tate pulled her up to stand with him, underestimating her balance in her borrowed wedges. Charlotte teetered too far forward and stumbled into his arms, making her blush even harder. "Let's have a typical high school experience."

She couldn't help but laugh at the blunt statement, allowing Tate to guide her into the crowded living room.

They definitely made an interesting pair. The rebellious blonde with the popular redhead. The grungy Nirvana shirt dancing with the long legs in the corduroy skirt. They didn't touch while they danced, compared to everyone else rubbing and grinding against each other around them. He had let go of her hand once they reached the makeshift dance floor, but, occasionally, they would brush against each other, or he would steady her as she stumbled in her wedges, sending static through them at each touch.

Despite teasing her 'stalker tendencies', he would watch her through half-closed eyes. He watched her sway to the music, the way she would raise her arms over her head, her hair still vibrant in the dark room, her eyes closed as she existed in her own world.

After a few songs the music shifted from upbeat to something with a calmer vibe, causing a shift in the room. A handful of drunk teens ran for the living room as others left, jostling any who remained in their paths. The shift caught Charlotte unaware and, in a fight to not be knocked to the ground, she stumbled in her wedges and tripped, once again, into Tate.

"Maybe you need better shoes, Winters." he chuckled softly.

Instead of immediately helping her stand back up on her own, he kept her close to his chest. Her hands were flat against his chest and his arms slipped easily around her waist. He had always intoxicated her thoughts, but she never thought they would be this close to each other. Up close she could smell him, a mix of clean laundry detergent, tobacco, and something else, his own natural scent. It made her feel drunker than any alcohol could.

She tilted her head up so she could meet his eyes, almost swooning at the intense look on his face. She wanted to lean in, to close the distance between them. Despite not really knowing each other for long, there was something so enticing about him, something that drew her in deeper than she had ever intended, something that -

"Charlotte!"

And the moment was over. A small but powerful girl knocked into the pair, separating their embrace. Charlotte didn't even get to see where Tate disappeared to, his presence simply being replaced by the highly intoxicated Chloe Stapleton, and the sleazy football player who was greedily eyeing both girls up and down.

"OhmyGOD, Char! We finally found you!" Chloe squealed, pulling Charlotte into a tight, drunken hug.

"Chloe!" Charlotte squeaked from the cheerleader's iron grip. She could smell the heavy alcohol on her breath, immediately dispelling any traces of Tate that had been lingering. "Are you okay?"

Chloe let go of her and giggle, holding Charlotte by her shoulders at arm's length. Her brown hair had been messily pulled back into a ponytail and her lipstick had smeared down onto her chin, but her eyes still sparkled, despite being glazed over from her drunken state. Charlotte had to baby-sit Chloe at a handful of parties their sophomore year and knew that the cheerleader was way over her self-inflicted limit of drinks, but that seemed to be the least of her worries.

"I am sooooo okay! And I have someone I want you to meet!"

Charlotte's jaw dropped as Chloe pushed the football player closer to her. She held her arms out in a grand 'ta-da!' gesture, as if she were a magician who had just made Charlotte's wildest dreams come true.

"Hey Brett."

The raven-haired linebacker winked his reply as he slung his arm around Chloe's shoulder. CHarlotte had known Brett Turner from her freshman cheerleading days, when he was scrawny but fast, most often found on the sidelines, waiting for coach to put him in. As he bulked up his ego followed quickly, making varsity his sophomore year. He had always been a pervert, known for his 'accidental' wanderings into the girls locker rooms, and the rumor, started by himself Charlotte believed, that he had slept with over half of their rival cheerleading team, including their head coach.

"Okay, okay, so I totally think you too would make, like, the cutest couple!" Chloe clapped her hands together gleefully and wiggled out of Brett's grip. Even when she was wasted, Chloe Stapleton knew how to avoid a slimeball. But, apparently, she had no issues with blindly dropping one on her friends. "Don't you totally agree, Char?"

"Oh. Man."

Charlotte felt like she was being sucked into a tunnel. The room seemed to be closing in around her as the night's events clicked into place. Why she had been invited over so early, why she had been so lovingly redressed in Chloe's own clothing, why they had kept her around for so long. They wanted to set her up. They probably thought they were doing something nice for her, while finally getting rid of slimeball Brett's unwanted attention. Oh, poor Charlotte, always stuck under her mommy's control! Let's give her a fun boy to play with, see if that'll loosen her up a little.

"Really, Chloe," Charlotte gulped, her mouth suddenly dry and the room began to spin. "That is so nice. But I, I...uh, I gotta go."

Charlotte pushed past the shocked Chloe and the confused Brett, teetering on her wedges as she fought to get out of the mass of people that seemed to be surrounding her. She made it back to her seat at the bar, pausing only to yank the wedges from her feet, hot tears threatening to spill out at any moment, but she would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her lose it.

Now barefoot, she maneuvered her way outside. The Stapleton's porch was, mercifully, mostly empty, a few partygoers sitting on the steps or scattered across the back lawn, but none of them sober enough to take notice of the nearly broken girl. The sky above was clear, but thanks to the city's glaring lights, the stars were barely shining through. It was the full moon that shone brightest, giving Charlotte something to focus on as she caught her breath, desperate not to lose it as she leaned against the poarch's railing.

"What did she want anyway?"

Charlotte hadn't even registered his presence. She glanced over to where Tate was sitting on the railing, a lit cigarette gripped loosely between his fingers. He offered her the filter end and she inhaled deeply, a cough racking through her as her lungs constricted with the smoke for the first time. The sudden pain distracted her momentarily and, when she could breathe again, she laughed, tears flowing from the coughing as opposed to Chloe's matchmaking.

"Nothing worthwhile."

Charlotte pulled herself up to sit next to Tate on the railing, her shoulder pressed firmly against his, but her mind was too distracted to focus on the warmth that pulsated between them.

Tate inhaled deeply from his cigarette, letting the smoke exhale through his nose. It circled lazily around them briefly before drifting off into the clear night.

"That's the crazy thing." Tate tilted his head back to look up at the night sky and Charlotte followed his lead. "I look out at this vast, limitless expanse. That's your life. High school is just...it's just a blip in your timeline."

Charlotte laughed again and shook her head, letting it fall to rest on Tate's shoulder as he took another deep inhale from his cigarette. He offered it to her again and she inhaled, managing to hold back the cough as she leaned onto Tate.

"Wise words from our resident Kurt Cobain impersonator."

Tate grinned. He ground his cigarette out on the railing next to him, leaving a small, circular burn on the wood. He moved his now free hand to rest on the railing beside Charlotte, careful not to disturb her head and letting his arm support her back.

"I like you, Winters."

Her heart raced. He liked her!

Charlotte moved her head slightly so that she could look up at him. He was still staring up at the sky, his dark eyes hidden from her through his mess of golden curls.

"I like you too, Langdom."

They sat like that for a long time, her nestled into his shoulder as he stared up into space. Occasionally he would absentmindedly rub her arm gently with his knuckles, goosebumps springing up on her bare legs at the slightest touch. They lost track of time, letting the party rage on inside and ignoring the trickle of students coming outside and going back in. They were in their own world, two outsiders that had seemed to have found their missing piece, even if they didn't know it yet. Slowly becoming Tate and Charlotte. Charlotte and Tate.

"You know, Winters. I think this may be the beginning of something great."

A/N: Much awaited, finally! The first newly written chapter that Charlotte has seen in a while!

Let me know what you think! Especially if you want to know more about Tate and Charlotte, pre-death.

Next chapter will be post-death, more of a look into Charlotte's forgotten memory.

Leave a review or shoot me a PM! Feedback is always welcome :)