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The first snow of the season marks a year since the death of Jackie Taylor, and Natalie’s mind is reeling.
She finds herself stumbling her way through a familiar path in the brush, one she’s walked many times before. There are a million thoughts racing through her head as the wreckage of the plane comes into view.
Kodiak is dead.
Hannah killed him.
They’re not going home.
Misty.
Misty has the emergency transponder.
She’s had it the whole time.
She’s the reason they never got rescued.
They’re going to have to spend another winter here.
She can’t survive another winter here.
Natalie barely registers staggering into the plane and collapsing beside a certain bundle of bones. She can feel the cold beginning to bite at her insides but she chooses to ignore it, simply wrapping her leather jacket more tightly around her shoulders, not even bothering to shake the freshly fallen snow off.
Nat watches Jackie’s bones as if her intense stare will magically bring her back to life.
Is it fucked up that she still misses her?
Their friendship—or whatever their relationship had turned into—had been strange those last few months, yet here she is, still wishing she were here even after everything’s gone to shit.
If only Jackie had made it through that first winter.
Natalie closes her eyes and inhales deeply before curling up next to the dead girl’s bones; her mind strays to the thought of what might've happened if she had been there to check on her that night.
˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆𐂂｡𖦹°‧⭑.ᐟ
Natalie doesn’t remember falling asleep, but she slowly blinks her eyes awake, feeling warmer than she’s been in months—no more bone-chilling cold.
Attempting to savour the warmth before it’s gone, she rolls over onto her side, shoving her face into the plush pillow case under her head and pulling the blanket further up her body.
Wait. What?
Nat jolts straight up at the realization that she is decidedly not in the plane anymore. She’s not even in the wilderness.
She’s in a bedroom. In a real bed.
After a quick scan of the vaguely familiar surroundings, Nat realizes that she’s in Jackie's room, but not the room she remembers.
She notices less of the old frilly pink furnishings and more decor that suits the Jackie that Nat was lucky enough to get to know during those last few months.
There are posters tacked up on the wall that definitely weren't there before, of bands she had introduced Jackie to, what feels like a lifetime ago. She also sees a black and grey flannel that definitely doesn't belong to her, thrown across the back of her desk chair.
Her eyes wander over to a wall of photos above Jackie's desk, landing on one right in the center. It's her, Jackie, and Van, all standing underneath the Rutger’s University archway, huge grins plastered across their faces. Jackie is standing right in the middle, arms slung over the shoulders of the two girls next to her as if they belong there.
That's definitely new.
Nat scans her eyes across the rest of the photos. She sees herself featured prominently, a few of Van, and a couple of the other Yellowjackets. She can't help but notice the lack of a certain brunette in any of the photos.
What puts her on edge is that most of these photos are new. Photos of them in university, at grad parties, prom, and photos of herself that she never remembers being taken. Most notably, a picture of Jackie standing in front of the Seattle Space Needle, in the exact outfit she was wearing when they crashed.
Then she sees the calendar sitting on the desk. November 1997.
The alarm bells start to go off in her brain as if they weren't already doing so before.
She needs to figure out what the hell is going on.
Nat forces herself up and out of Jackie's bed, taking off in the direction of the door. She tries not to dwell too much on the details of Jackie's room.
Natalie freezes in her tracks as she catches sight of her reflection in the full-length mirror next to the desk. Her hair is fully blonde; dark brown roots barely visible. It falls a few inches past her shoulders, not like the grown-out length she’s gotten used to these past few months. Her face is free of dirt or grime, and her cheeks aren’t hollow from lack of food.
It feels almost foreign, seeing herself like this after so long. She had almost forgotten what she looked like before the crash.
Nat manages to pull her eyes away from her reflection and continues making her way to the door. She quietly creaks open the door to Jackie’s room and makes her way into the tastefully decorated hallway.
Family photos line the wall. She's startled when she notices herself in what she assumes is the most recent one, looking blazingly out of place among the perfectly polished Taylors with her leather jacket and heavy eyeliner. Despite this, the version of herself in the photo looks perfectly at home next to Jackie. Her arm is wrapped loosely around her waist as the other girl leans into her.
Her thoughts are abruptly redirected when she hears the familiar sound of Courtney Love’s raspy voice drifting up from somewhere downstairs.
A sudden wave of nostalgia rushes over her.
One of the street lights of the deserted parking lot next to the Wiskayok Drive-In flickered outside the window of Nat’s truck.
“What band is this?”
Natalie grinned at Jackie, crossing her ankles on the dash next to the steering wheel.
“You’ve never heard of Hole before, Taylor?” She used the hand that wasn’t holding her cigarette to crank up the volume on the shitty car stereo.
Jackie rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile quirking up at the edge of her perfectly glossed lips.
“Not everyone is a music snob like you are, Scatorccio.”
The honey-blonde leaned across the middle seat into Natalie’s personal space to carefully pluck the cigarette out of her hand, lightly brushing her fingers against the other girl’s in the process. Nat tried to ignore the tingling sensation she felt at the contact.
Natalie couldn’t explain how she felt around Jackie Taylor. She couldn’t explain why her heart rate sped up when Jackie held her gaze in the hallway or why she could feel the heat rise to her cheeks when Jackie told her that her outfit looked cool.
She doesn’t know how brief friendly conversations after soccer practice had turned into hanging out in the back of abandoned parking lots in the beat-up black pickup truck that Nat had fixed up with scrapped parts when she got her license.
She watched as Jackie took a drag of the cigarette, leaving behind a print of her pink lip gloss. Nat couldn’t help but wonder how those lips would feel if she were to lean forward and-
Natalie cut off her own train of thought. She can’t afford to dwell on that memory right now. Not when she’s likely in some fucked up domestic fantasy set in Jackie Taylor’s house. Not after what had happened almost exactly a year ago. Not after what they’d done to her.
Nat inhales deeply, steadying herself. She continues down the hall, creeping her way down the stairs of the Taylor household. She follows the sound of the music towards what she’s pretty sure is the kitchen. She stops dead in her tracks when she turns the corner.
Jackie Taylor, the same Jackie Taylor who died a year ago, the same Jackie Taylor they ate, is standing at the kitchen counter mixing cookie dough in a bowl with a wooden spoon, and quietly singing along to 'Jennifer’s Body' by Hole.
She stares and wonders if someone dosed her food with shrooms again. Lottie, maybe. Or Shauna.
Maybe she was experiencing some sort of psychosis.
The—ghost? Hallucination?—The whatever it is of Jackie Taylor continues to bop her head to the music as if Natalie isn’t re-evaluating her entire existence a mere 10 feet away.
Maybe this is all some fucked up nightmare fueled by the anniversary of her death. Or maybe everything with Misty and the transponder is causing Nat to reminisce on memories from before the crash.
Except this never happened. The calendar in Jackie’s room said that it was November 1997, which matches the date that Nat figures it is. And despite becoming closer during the months leading up to nationals, she and Jackie had never been like this. Not this domestic.
Jackie suddenly turns around, grinning when she sees Natalie standing in the entrance to the kitchen.
“I thought I heard you come downstairs.”
Nat stands there like a deer caught in headlights.
Jackie makes her way across the room towards her, abandoning the cookie dough on the counter. She stops in front of her, entirely too close to be normal, and slings her hands over Nat’s shoulders.
Okay. Not a ghost. Ghosts can’t touch people. At least she doesn’t think so; that’s more Van’s area of expertise.
Natalie’s train of thought is cut off when Jackie leans in to press a gentle kiss to her lips.
“Good morning,” the girl murmurs before resting her forehead on the bleach-blonde’s shoulder.
What the fuck.
"Am I dead?"
Jackie pulls away slightly, her hands sliding down Nat’s sides before settling on her waist. She tries not to think about that too hard.
Jackie, who Natalie still isn’t 100% sure isn’t just a really fucked hallucination, raises an eyebrow at her.
“Are you trying to use a line on me?”
Nat needs someone to pinch her.
“You’re dead,” she states blankly, all other words or reasonable explanations escaping her mind.
Jackie’s lips curve into a frown. She takes a step back, dropping her hands from Nat’s waist in favour of crossing her arms over her chest. Nat tries not to mourn the loss of contact.
“Natalie, if this is a joke, it’s not funny.”
Nat flinches. Despite the fucked up situation, she’s beginning to get the idea that whatever version of Jackie this is doesn’t call her by her full name too often. (It had been the same with her Jackie, those last few months together. Not that she’d ever really been hers.)
The lack of response must be concerning the girl across from her because Nat can see Jackie's brow furrow—something she only did when she was worried.
“Nat? What's going on?” Jackie pushes further. “Have you been having nightmares again? Is it what happened with Shauna yesterday? It's okay if you’re-”
“Shauna?”
The girl who probably hates her guts. Who all but shoved the knife in her hand when she was forced to ‘prepare the feast’. She’s the reason she can so vividly remember the nauseating smell of blood as it pooled under the table where the man who used to be their soccer coach lay, unrecognizable after being butchered like an animal by Natalie’s own hands. She thought killing him would have been a mercy.
Another reminder that this is all some stupid fantasy her brain conjured up because she misses the girl who never got to be hers. Who’s never going to be. Because she’s dead.
She doesn’t realize there are tears welling up in her eyes until she feels a hand cupping her cheek, thumb gently wiping them away. She forces herself to meet Jackie’s eyes, her vision blurry from the tears.
“I’m not supposed to be here. I don’t deserve to be here.” Her voice is shaky.
“We crashed, you died, and it’s winter again, and we’re not going home. I fucked it all up.” She finds herself clutching at Jackie’s sweater. “I failed them.” The tears are flowing freely now.
She could finally let out everything that she had been bottling up for the past few months instead of putting on a brave face for the sake of the group.
Jackie pulls Nat’s head into her shoulder, stroking her hair softly.
“I fell asleep in that stupid plane, and now I’ve probably frozen to death like you did. I’m so sorry, Jack.” Nat murmurs into Jackie's sweater.
The latter's hands slide down from Nat’s hair to her shoulder, pushing her back slightly, but still close enough that she can feel Jackie's breath on her face.
“What?” Jackie's eyes narrow in concern.
“Our plane. It crashed on the way to nationals. You're dead. We're still stuck out there.”
Natalie watches as Jackie's facial expression grows even more concerned with each word. She stares at her in confusion.
“Nat, what are you talking about? We won nationals. That was last year.”
Nat really fucking needs someone to pinch her. Maybe give her a slap for good measure.
“We're in Wiskayok, we're at my house. We're visiting my family for Thanksgiving, remember?” Jackie rubs her hand gently up and down Nat's arm in what she assumes is an attempt to soothe her. “We’re meeting up with Tai and Van for lunch later.”
Nat closes her eyes and inhales deeply. She cannot believe she's about to fucking say this.
“I’m going to sound insane, but I think I've ended up in some alternate timeline or something. In mine, our plane crashed, and in yours it didn't.”
Natalie waits for Jackie to laugh at her, call her crazy, maybe even yell at her, but that moment never comes.
“Okay. So how did you end up here?”
Nat blinks at her. What.
“You believe me,” she points out, disbelief laced in her voice.
Much to Natalie’s surprise, Jackie chuckles.
“We’ve been together for almost a year, Nat. I know when you’re lying to me.”
Nat can feel the heat rising in her cheeks at Jackie’s statement. She said it so comfortably. Sure, she’s already put the pieces together—waking up in Jackie’s bed, the echoes of Natalie scattered throughout her room, the easy intimacy, the kissing—but she’s still surprised to hear it confirmed out loud so casually.
Nat is so preoccupied with her thoughts that she doesn’t even realize Jackie’s smile has fallen until she hears her speak.
“Were we not- um… you know, in your timeline?”
Natalie didn’t think it was possible, but her cheeks darken even more. Her eyes dart to the kitchen tile at her feet.
“There was maybe something there, but we never really got the chance to before…” she trails off.
She dares herself to meet Jackie’s eyes. She sees a flicker of silent understanding cross her face.
“Oh.”
Nat watches as Jackie studies her face; she’s not sure for what.
“When did it happen?”
“A year ago,” Nat replies, straightforward. She’s never really been one for beating around the bush.
Jackie’s muscles tense. Her expression morphs into something unreadable. Concern? Maybe she’s finally going to tell Nat she’s lost her mind.
“You’ve been stranded for over a year?”
Natalie opens her mouth to respond, but before she’s able to get a word out, the sound of the doorbell ringing cuts through the tense bubble they’ve created for themselves in the kitchen.
Jackie curses under her breath. She shoots Nat an apologetic look before turning in the direction of the foyer.
“Who the hell is ringing the doorbell in this neighbourhood before noon?” she grumbles as she makes her way to the front door. Nat trails behind her silently, worried that if Jackie strays too far away, she’ll disappear forever.
Jackie unlocks the front door, still murmuring under her breath. She opens the door to reveal a nervous-looking Shauna Shipman, carrying one of her mother’s famous apple pies.
Of fucking course. Probably about the last person in the world Natalie wants to see right now.
“What do you want, Shipman?” Jackie demands, not even bothering to hide her irritation at the brunette’s sudden appearance.
Nat doesn’t know exactly what went down between the two of them in this universe, but she’s pretty sure it’s safe to assume they had the same—if not a similar—argument to her timeline, considering the very obvious air of hostility radiating off of Jackie.
She hadn't been present for the argument itself, but the fallout was enough to haunt her forever.
“I um, just wanted to apologize for yesterday. What I said to you,” Shauna glances over to Nat, who is hovering a couple of feet behind Jackie, trying not to show that she’s internally losing her shit, “and Natalie. I was being a bitch. Neither of you deserved it,” she finished, her eyes flickering back to Jackie.
This isn’t the Shauna that Nat has grown used to. This Shauna doesn’t have the same anger and resentment in her eyes; she hasn’t been so deeply affected by the wilderness. She doesn’t carry the same sorrow and loss.
Nat can’t see Jackie’s expression from where she’s standing, but she watches as she crosses her arms across her chest; exactly as she does whenever she’s angry with someone.
She suddenly feels very dizzy. Dark spots begin to litter her vision like static.
“That’s it?”
Shauna sighs.
“Jackie, look, I know-”
Nat doesn’t hear the end of the sentence.
One moment she’s standing behind Jackie as if she’s anchored there, and the next she’s collapsed on the ground. She barely registers Jackie rushing to her side and a concerned Shauna cautiously stepping through the doorway. Jackie’s hands move to cup her face.
“Nat? Are you okay?”
The last thing Natalie sees before she blacks out is Jackie Taylor’s face, looking down at her with a level of worry that runs as deep as love.
˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆𐂂｡𖦹°‧⭑.ᐟ
The first thing Natalie notices when she wakes up again is that she’s cold. Cold enough that she can see her own breath when she exhales.
It takes her another minute to realize that she’s back in the plane. Except the plane is different. The bundle of Jackie’s bones and Coach’s jacket are nowhere to be seen. The seats they had taken out to use around camp are back in their original places.
A glance down reveals that she’s in the clothes she had been wearing the night after Doomcoming. The night Jackie died.
Natalie is not fucking this up again.
She wastes no time running out of the plane and in the direction of the cabin.
She knows Jackie is out there. Even if this was another fucked up dream, she could still have a second chance.
The snow begins to fall as she reaches the treeline, the cabin finally in view.
Jackie Taylor is huddled in front of a pathetic attempt at a fire, a single blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She’s shivering.
“Jackie?”
The girl looks up at the sound of her name being called. Her lips are starting to turn blue.
“Nat?”
Natalie drops down to her knees beside Jackie, reaching out to touch her. Just to make sure that she’s not just a figment of her imagination.
Jackie’s skin is cold to the touch from where Nat’s fingers brush against her cheek. Cold, but still alive.
“Holy shit, you’re real,” she breathes out.
The blonde’s hands move to cradle the back of Jackie’s head, pulling the girl into the crook of her neck. Despite the confusion Nat has no doubt Jackie is currently feeling, she melts into the warmth of the embrace.
“Nat, I’m so sorry about Travis. Nothing happened, I swear,” Jackie mumbles against her collarbone.
Nat can’t help the quiet laugh that escapes her throat.
“It was never like that with me and him, Jack. I only care about you.”
Jackie pulls back to look at her with her big hazel eyes. Natalie stares back, mapping out every beautiful line and speck of dirt on Jackie’s face, committing it to memory.
Absorbed in the air hanging between them, Jackie reaches across the short distance to press the gentlest of pecks to Nat’s cheek.
“I care about you too.”
A smile spreads across Natalie’s lips. She helps Jackie carefully to her feet.
“C’mon, Taylor. Let’s get you inside.”
Natalie falls asleep next to Jackie that night. Their bedrolls are pushed together in the corner of the cabin, away from the other girls who wouldn’t even look them in the eye as they re-entered the cabin. Nat couldn’t give less of a shit about what they’re thinking right now. Not when Jackie is warm and alive, bundled up in layers of blankets next to her.
˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆𐂂｡𖦹°‧⭑.ᐟ
Natalie wakes up in Jackie’s bed again; this time with a bag of frozen peas resting under her head.
She’s really starting to wish she had paid more attention to all those sci-fi films Van used to make her watch during their weekly movie nights.
“You’re awake!” Jackie’s voice sounds from somewhere beside her.
She slowly sits up. She reaches one of her hands up to press against her forehead, groaning at the pounding growing behind her eyes. Jackie grimaces.
“You kind of hit your head hard when you fainted.”
She passes Nat a glass of water and some painkillers. Jackie waits for her to take them before speaking again.
“What the hell happened?”
Nat doesn’t respond. Instead, she eyes the bedroom door suspiciously. Jackie follows her gaze.
“Shauna’s in the kitchen,” she answers the unsaid question. She then snorts, clearly amused about something. “She’s making soup. I think she feels guilty about you passing out.”
“Does she know about-” Nat starts.
“No. I didn’t tell her,” Jackie reassures her.
Natalie exhales tentatively.
“I went back. But it was before.”
Jackie’s eyes widen.
“Before I…?” she trails off. Nat understands what she’s alluding to.
She nods in quiet confirmation.
“I was able to stop it this time.” She gives a wry smile. “I was able to stop it, but I ended up here again. After I just got you back.”
She had been so close, just to have it all slip from her grasp.
Jackie studies her face carefully, lips pursed like they are whenever she’s deep in thought. Some things never change, no matter what timeline she’s in, Nat muses silently.
Jackie’s expression suddenly turns very determined.
“We’re going to find a way to get you home, Scatorccio,” she announces with finality.
“I sure fucking hope so.”
˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆𐂂｡𖦹°‧⭑.ᐟ
Somewhere within the fabric of the universe, the timeline begins to rewrite itself. The queen and her consort have carved out a place for themselves, planting their roots deep in the ground. Something in the Wilderness shifts.