Type of work: Chapters of Yesterday to Tomorrow
Genre: Romance, fan fiction
Title: Yesterday to Tomorrow: Chapter Eight, Shadows of memories
Author: dreamsinfiction
Fandom: Chris Cornell of Audioslave
Rating: PG-13
Warning: mild swearing
Summary: Three words of terror.....
Disclaimer: There's a reason it's fiction, my dears. ;-)


Links to Previous Chapters:
Chapter One, Ice Cream
Chapter Two, Waves
Chapter Three, A Breath Away
Chapter Four, Completely platonically
Chapter Five, Don't leave bed
Chapter Six, Not a rebound
Chapter Seven, Kaleidoscope of feelings




White spots filled the darkness of her closed eyes. Inhaling deep breaths, Alyssa focused on those spots, pushing aside any thoughts or memories that tried to intrude upon her blank mind. Waiting while her breaths cleared her mind, she laid back, letting the warm sun warm her body. The grass tickled her outstretched arms, making the corner of her mouth twitch ever slightly.

For a few moments she laid there, just breathing and feeling, not thinking at all. But that peaceful solitude slowly seeped away, especially when she felt a pair of eyes on her for a few moments. She found it funny how she could feel his eyes on her no matter where she was: alone in his backyard, in a crowd of people at the theatre, pushed aside at a concert. Wherever she was, he would find her and she would feel it before catching his gaze with her own. Except that day. She needed to think things over without looking into his eyes. And so she ignored the stare upon her.

Relaxing fully once his eyes were off her again, Alyssa allowed her eyes to open slightly, staring up at the cloudless sky. The glare of the sun skewed her vision, but that was part of the purpose of staring at the sun. She liked the way it kept her thoughts clear of unnecessary things. Laying there, her thoughts swirled to the day they met....

"Alyssa, do you understand what I showed you?" the gruff looking man asked.

Her brown eyes went to him and she nodded, "Yes, of course. It's not all that difficult. I just put the slab of meat in this side" —

Her finger pointed to the left.

"And make sure my hand is out of the way. And then move the large shuttle thing, slowly at first to make sure the slices are coming out evenly," she recounted.

"Very good," he nodded. "Make me five pounds of ham and five pounds of turkey."

Before he left her alone, Alyssa asked, "Which flavour of ham?"

He arched a brow, clearly surprised she would ask such a question, "Do a pound of each flavour."

She nodded, "Not a problem, Nicolas."

Left alone with the machine, she stared at it warily for a moment. Sure it had seemed easy when he explained it, even when she recounted that. But now that she was faced with the prospect of operating it herself, it was rather larger than she thought.

"Meat in here," Alyssa muttered to herself, setting the honey ham in the cradle. "Watch fingers. Slide."

She grinned when it all sliced perfectly, easily.

"Not that hard, girl," she complimented herself.

Slicing through the five pounds of ham was relatively easy. She even found her own natural rhythym to it. Confident, she slapped the turkey onto the machine, after thoroughly cleaning the parts, not wanting to mix bits of ham into the turkey on accident, though Nicolas hadn't mentioned doing anything of the sort.

Getting into her routine, her eyes glanced up from her work and collided with a pair of green eyes that had just entered the deli. Alyssa was instantly lost in them, and barely managed to stop what she was doing to keep from slicing her fingers off. And then he smiled at her. Returning the smile, she wanted to hurry to the counter and take his order, but she wasn't even trained in the register yet. She was certain she could fake it, but Nicolas probably wouldn't have cared for it. Instead she wiped her hands off and summoned her boss from the back to take the man's order.

After his order was taken, he moved over to where Alyssa had just finished slicing the meats and was cleaning out the slicer. His smile seemed to effect her in ways none of the boys at school ever had. But that could be because he was older than all the boys she knew.

"Hi," he said softly, or at least it sounded soft with the fluttering of butterflies in her body when he talked to her. "I'm Chris."

"I'm Alyssa," she replied, trying to not smile like an idiot.

"What time are you off?" he asked.

She hesitated for a moment. It was a school night. And what were his intentions anyways? Brushing those thoughts aside, she smiled.

"I'm off at nine. Why?"

"I play in a band. And... well, I'd like you to come and listen to some things we're playing right now. I think you'd might like it," he replied.

Alyssa arched her brows, "What makes you say that?"

He shrugged, "Maybe it's your aura."

"Order 57!" Nicolas bellowed.

"I'll be back at nine for you," he declared before taking the paper bag from the gruff man. "Until then, Alyssa."


"Alyssa? Where are you going?" her mother asked as the young girl's hand touched the doorknob.

"Out, Mom," she replied with a sigh. "Don't wait up."

"You come back here, young lady," she instructed. "I want to know where you're going and who you'll be with."

She turned to her mom, folding her arms over her chest, "I'm 18, Mom. I think it's rather okay if I don't tell you everything I'm doing."

"You're going to hang out with that band again, aren't you?" her eyes narrowed some. "You're going to get knocked up and ruin your chances at getting into a decent college."

"Ugh! No. I'm not. I'm not sleeping with the band. I go to shows. We hang out. Nothing of that manner happens. We're just friends. Besides I haven't seen Chris in three weeks, Mother," she argued. "Besides the band broke up!"

"You're not going anywhere, Alyssa," she declared, "except right back up to your room. Where you will translate chapters —"

"Like hell I will," Alyssa retorted. "I don't have to do anything you say. And I'm certainly not going upstairs to write shit about your fucking Bible. I'm leaving."

Pulling the door open forcefully, the knob banged into the wall, leaving a rather sizeable dent. Her mother jumped up from where she was sitting and hurried to the door. Alyssa hurried down the walk towards her car, not giving her mother a glance at all.

"If you leave now, you can't ever come back. You walk away from me now and you're no longer my daughter!" she called after her.

Alyssa merely gave her the one finger salute.

Wiping the tears from her cheeks, Alyssa turned over to face the grass. Somehow it felt more appropriate to face the ground than the sky with the turn of memories in her mind. Folding her arms, she rested her head on them, turning one cheek to the sky. Taking a deep breath, she considered if delving more into memory was a wise thing or not. But as she was searching herself for what Chris meant to her, it was inevitable, right?

Another sigh and she released herself to the memories again...

Sitting on the floor of her dorm room, she glanced at the empty bottle in her hand. She ran her fingers shaking through hair that hadn't been combed in a few days. Not that she cared, she hadn't ventured outside of the hotel room in as many days, not since receiving a note about her mother's death. It was brief, written in her father's shaky scrawl. It wasn't so much the way the news was broken to her that hurt the most. But the fact the note was a good six weeks old, having taken that long to get through Chris's fan club to her. And once it reached the head of the club, it was forwarded to Alyssa as quickly as possible.

The crumpled note lay next to the door. She hadn't been a good Christian daughter. And her last memory of her mother was flipping her off before peeling out of the driveway. Not once did they talk after that incident, her mother even being certain to not be home when Alyssa came to collect her things. Her father she only spoken with thrice in as many years, on her birthday. Every time he pleaded for her to come home and make things right with her mother 'as the good Lord wished'. Every time it would end with her biting back the urge to curse him, instead a very tense good bye and have a good year.

He was secretly funding her education there at UCLA. She knew her mother knew nothing of it, or the money would have been cut off long before. Not that Alyssa didn't have the scholarships to pay for tuition or that she couldn't have found a part-time job for 'fun money.' Her father just wanted to do what he could for her, which was minimal with the rift between daughter and mother.

The door of her dorm was pushed open. She didn't have a dormmate, never had. So it could only be one person. Her bloodshoot eyes raised to the light, squinting to make out his shadow.

"Chris."

After closing the door, he moved to her side, sitting on the tiled floor herself, "The RA says you haven't left your room in days, Lyss. Why?"

"Dead," she replied, hiccuping once.

"Who?" he asked softly.

"Her."

His hand reached for her bottle before she raised it to her lips, "How much have you drank, Lyss?"

She shrugged, "Some. None. Lots."

Discarding the bottle, he wrapped his arms around her, though she struggled against his embrace, "It's not your fault, Lyssa. It's not."

"Y-yes, it-t is-s," she began to sob, her fingers clenching his shirt. "I'm b-bad-d."

"No. Never," he declared. "Never."

He held her for some time until she passed out, utterly exhausated from drinking for days and from the emotional upheaval. Lifting her to her bed, Chris remained at her side until she woke some fourteen hours later, more hungover than he had ever seen her. With his support she cleaned herself up and ventured out of her dorm for the first time in a few days. To a small restaurant near the campus they went, sitting in the back away from the sunshine and anyone who might recognize Chris. From the restaurant they headed to a park, where Chris convinced her to call her father.

"Daddy?" she spoked into the phone, Chris patting her leg supportively.

There were few sounds from the opposite end of the line. And a moment later, Alyssa dropped her phone back on the cradle. She couldn't look at Chris, almost as if she couldn't see him through the curtain of tears once more.

"He's gone, Chris," she muttered, eyes meeting his briefly.

"What?" he asked softly, not entirely sure he had heard correctly.

"Stroke. Caregiver answered," she looked down at her hands. "S-said he fell apart at the funeral. And cursed me for not being there. Later.... later repented.... and he collapsed with the phone in his hand. A neighbor found him the next day."

Without another word, Chris's arms wrapped around her, pulling her close to him. Her body trembled slightly as she sobbed. There they remained until her body had no more tears.

"I have to go to him, Chris," she declared.

"I know," he replied. "We'll go in a few days. I'll make the arrangements, but you have to go talk to your professors."


Dejected, Alyssa sat on a bench in a downtown park. Next to her on the bench was a briefcase, completely empty of resumes at that point. She had visited every shop, museum, concert hall, orchestra, gallery, and theatre in the city. Or so it felt like. How many resumes had she printed the morning before? Fifty? Sixty? One hundred. Well at least twenty-five.

Rubbing her face a smiled came to her lips. She could feel his approach, his eyes upon her petite frame. Peeking through her fingers, her smile widened. Hands dropping from her face, Alyssa waved at him.

"How long have you been waiting?" he asked, sitting on the bench next to her. "I don't think I'm late."

"No, of course not," she glanced at her watch. "I'm a little early. Buses were running on time today."

"I don't see why you won't buy a car, Alyssa. Or a bike or something. You don't have to take the buses everywhere," Chris declared.

"I like not owning a car, Chris," she replied. "Sides if I need to go somewhere a bus won't take me, I just call you."

He chuckled, "That I know."

Alyssa looked over him, "You've got news."

"What? I... How did you know?" he replied.

"I can just tell," she answered. "So tell."

Smiling crookedly, he looked down for a moment, "She said yes."

Alyssa's thoughts screeched to a halt. She hadn't really expected that. It took a few noticeable blinks to start thinking again, nevermind her heart was completely useless. But she put on the face of cheer he would want to see.

"Well congratulations, Chris!" she chirped, completely not feeling it. "I'm sure you'll make a lovely couple."

His eyes went to hers, his grin wide, "Yeah. I think so too. Vicky's wonderful. Not pretentious at all. We make a good team."

"Of course you do."

"And you're going to be in the wedding, whether you like it or not," he declared.

"Of course," she agreed, though her heart surely wasn't in it.

"Come on. Let's go celebrate!" he pulled her to her feet.



Sighing Alyssa pushed herself up. Sitting on her knees, her eyes looked out over the garden. She bit her bottom lip and moved to stand. She may have never known it before, but she had always loved him. Ever since that first day in the deli.

And he deserved to know that.