Hi guys! So this isn't my usual, happy story that I normally write. I was watching Dear John last night and towards the end of the movie, this story popped into my head. I never liked the way the movie ended, I always thought that it left us hanging, and I had always wanted to know what was going through John's mind during those last few scenes. This story basically wrote its self, and I'm pretty proud of it, so I hope you like it. And for those of you who are my faithful readers, I apologize profusely for not updating in almost, what, six months? I've never been good with updating things, but I will eventually get around to those other stories. I have to be in the right mood to write certain stories, and right now, I'm not feeling Harry Potter, so when I get back into it, I can promise you an update (: So for now, I hope you like this little one shot

I am a coin in United States' Army, I was minted in 1980, punched out of sheet metal. I have been stamped, my sides have been ridged and riddled to perfection. Except now, I have two small holes in me. I am no longer in perfect condition.

The whole drive over there, I was tempted to turn around and go back the way I came. My stomach was in knots, nerves twisting it in ways I had never experienced before. Never in my life had ever carried this much trepidation or fear before. Facing 9/11 and getting shot was nothing compared to this.

When my dad died, I had nothing here for me anymore. Sitting in that empty church, staring at my father's casket, I made the decision. I needed this and I owed this to myself to do this. If I could tie up fifteen years' worth of loose ends with my father, then I could do this.

I drove down the long drive way, remembering doing this exact thing five years ago, except five years ago my heart didn't feel like this. Like someone was holding it and squeezing it every now and then, dragging out the evitable end that I knew was coming.

My eyes drifted over to the barn, where I saw a figure, a very familiar figure, brushing one of the many horses. As if knowing I was there, she looked up. Her face was in the shadows, as if hiding from me. Even though I couldn't see her face, I could just imagine the shock and sheer surprise lighting her sea blue eyes.

I slowed the car to a stop, taking a minute to get out, never taking my eyes off of her. I got out of the car, after trying and failing, to calm my racing heart.

I slowly walked towards the barn, she doing the same.

Finally she came out of the barn and out of the shadows, stepping into the late morning sun and stopping in front of me.

Apart of me wanted to run over and grab her in my arms and pretend that the last five years didn't happen, but I remained where I was, just standing there, staring at her.

Savannah.

Five years hadn't changed her a bit. She still had her long, soft blonde hair, pulled back into a braid, hair that I wanted to be able to run my fingers through again, feel its soft silky texture.

She was still as beautiful as I remember, though my memories were a pale comparison to the real thing.

My heart ached as I stared into those ocean blue eyes, those eyes that had captivated me from the first moment I looked into them. They were always filled with a warmth and an openness that made you feel at ease, but there was no longer the slight innocence, the sparkle of humor that was never far from the surface. They still had there warmth, but replacing the innocence was a darkness, a pain that made my heart twinge.

This wasn't a Savannah I knew, and even after all the heart break she had caused me, still loved.

"John." She whispered, her eyes wide, with the predicted shock.

I nodded to her, not quite sure I could talk yet.

She shook herself slightly, a smile that still made my heart beat just a little faster, graced her angelic face.

"What brings you here?" she asked conversationally.

"My dad." I said, mentally wincing at the controlled tone my voice had taken on.

"Oh, how is he?" she asked, her eyes giving off that familiar sparkle.

Dead. I thought harshly. But I couldn't bring myself to say it, so I just settled for shaking my head, knowing she would get my meaning.

Immediately, they sparkle was gone, replaced with sadness and sympathy.

"Oh my gosh, I wish-I wish I would've known." She whispered. I just shook my head.

"It's okay." And it was, or so I tried to think it was.

Silence settled around us, not awkward, it was never awkward with us, not even with everything that happened. The sign on the barn caught my attention.

Camp Horse Sense.

"So you did it huh? Camp Horse Sense?" I asked, slightly curious.

She shook her head, a wistful smile on her face.

"No, I tried. It lasted one summer, it was expensive." She explained.

I nodded, not commenting. She stared at me again, and I tried to ignore the feeling I still got. It wouldn't make any of this easier.

"Do you want to come inside?" she asked me, her blue eyes hopeful.

No, was my first thought. I didn't want to sit here and pretend that everything was okay, and I didn't want to sit there and make small talk with her husband, I don't think I could take that.

"It's just me." she added, as if knowing what I was thinking.

Call me it wishful thinking or masochistic, but I found myself nodding, and all the pain I knew that it would cause me, I think it was a small price to pay to finally see her bright smile light up her face, especially if it was the last time.

I followed her silently up to the house, again the silence not awkward, just silence. She lead me into the dining room, telling me to make myself comfortable while she got us some drinks. I obliged, taking of my jacket, slinging it onto the back of my chair.

Savannah came back into the room, setting a glass of water down in front of me, sitting down across from me, staring into her own glass.

This silence was awkward. We didn't know what to say to each other this time, neither of us ready to bring up the elephant in the room, but neither of us knowing what to say to break the silence.

Finally she broke it, "When do you go back?"

"After I get all of my dad's stuff squared away." I answered. She nodded.

The next thing to break the silence was the phone's shrill ringing, Savannah, after apologizing, excused herself to answer it. I took this as the opportunity to look at the pictures over the mantle. The one in the middle caught my attention.

I knew what it was before I even looked at it, but for some reason I looked anyway. I just needed to know, if I was ever going to get over this I had to know.

Looking back on it now, I wish I wouldn't have done it, but at the time, I had wanted it.

Savannah, wearing a simple white dress, flowers in her hair, a bouquet of bright colored daisy's in her hand. She was beautiful, looking so simple but yet so breathtakingly beautiful that it almost made me smile. I took a breath and looked at the other part of the picture, and what I saw made the breath I took, whoosh out of me.

My suspicions were confirmed. The one time I didn't want to be right, and it slapped me in the face. I was numb, shock was the only thing registering through my mind. I was so shocked, that I barely heard Savannah hang up the phone and ask me something.

I looked over at her, not bothering to cover up the pain and betrayal I was sure was covering my face, letting her see, for the first time what she had really done to me.

"He wants to see you." I didn't have to ask who he was.

"I-uh-what?" I stammered.

"He wants to see you." She repeated softly. My jaw clenched and I looked away, nodding. She excused herself to go change, and I didn't even acknowledge that I heard her.

She still loves you. It's as plain as day on her face. I wish that weren't the case, but she never looked at me the way she looked at you.

Those words pierced my heart worse than those two bullets that pierced my skin, stabbing me and leaving me breathless and vulnerable. I clenched my jaw, trying to block those words from entering my mind, but they were there, on repeat through the whole awkward conversation.

Tim looked like hell, but the sick part was, I didn't feel sympathetic. I was too angry and hurt to feel sympathetic towards him. He stole the only thing I had left to come back too, the only thing I fought so hard for. He took her from me because he was dying, he took her from me because he wanted someone to look after his son when he was gone. To him it might have made sense, but to me it just sounded fucked up.

I bet you want to kick my ass right now.

He had no idea.

Now that I knew the reason, I understood why she looked so upset, so sad. She had the weight of the world on her shoulders, a dying husband, expensive hospital bills piling up, and pretty soon she would have a child to look after on her own.

I wanted to be unsympathetic towards her, after all she knew all of this going into it, she knew what was going to happen, and yet she still did it.

But I couldn't be that cruel, even though she broke my heart with just a simple letter, I couldn't do it.

I loved her too damn much. When she looked up at me with those lost sea blue eyes, all my anger melted away. I wanted to take her in my arms, I wanted to kiss her until all her pain went away. I wanted to tell her I still loved her.

But she was married

Married. She was married.

To a dying man.

I wanted to smile because it was just so Savannah. To give up her life, to give up me, everything she had, to marry a dying man just so she could raise his son when he was gone, to be there for him when his father died.

But didn't she realize that I had needed her the past five years? Where was she when I was lying in a hospital bed half way across the country, recovering from being shot twice and almost dying? Where was she when I buried the only family I had left?

She was too busy with her dying husband.

The thought made my jaw clench again for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. Savannah's new life seemed to have that effect on me.

But she didn't know about me almost dying, she didn't know about the two, somewhat recent scars I received from being shot, trying to protect a friend, our country. Her.

That's really what it always boiled down to. No matter what I did, she was always one my reasons for doing it, if not being my only reason.

But I wasn't that cruel that I would tell her that. Maybe I would if I thought it would change something, but something told me that it wouldn't.

Sitting at that dinner table, it was awkward. The elephant in the room was just getting to hard to ignore, and the question that I had been asking myself for most of the day, but choosing to ignore, whether it was because I enjoyed torturing myself or because I just wanted to pretend just a little bit longer, I had yet to decide, but I needed to know.

"What are we doing here?" I asked her finally, hoping that maybe she had an answer for me.

She gave me an innocent look, pasting on a forced smile. But I could see it in her eyes. She was begging me to pretend just a little longer, for her sake, just pretend that we don't have a past together, that we were just two friends, catching up. Pretend that we hadn't changed, that she hadn't changed. Maybe she could do it, but I couldn't.

"What do you mean?" she asked finally.

I sighed, putting my fork down. I wasn't really eating, more like pushing my food around my plate.

"We're talking, and having a conversation, but no one's really saying anything."

She smiled at me, this one almost desperate. "What do you want to talk about?"

I looked back down at my plate, what little appetite I had gone.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I demanded quietly, finally.

She looked down, her strong stature diminishing, and I really saw for the first time, what these five years had done to her.

Then she whispered so quietly, that if I wasn't listening, waiting so desperately for her answer, I would've missed it.

"I couldn't."

All the pain, hurt and anger rose within me, snapping my controlled, indifferent demeanor.

"You couldn't." I nodded, biting back the frustrated yell that wanted to rip its way out of my chest.

"Why didn't you call me? Did you think that little of me that you couldn't give me more of an explanation than that…that letter? To give me at least one chance to change your mind?" I asked her desperately.

My demands seemed to have finally snapped her ignorant façade, her need to pretend for a little longer. Her head snapped up, her sea blue eyes stormy, angry, and defiant.

"I couldn't." she repeated, this time stronger.

"Why not?" I demanded, resisting the urge to bang my fist on the table in frustration.

"Because I couldn't!" she shouted, and I saw it, the pain she was trying to hide from me, the anger at what she had done and what she had gotten herself into. She had snapped. She flew out of her chair, running her fingers through her hair angrily.

"Because I knew the minute I heard your voice that I would've change my mind!" she finally shouted.

And I finally saw as she continued shouted at me, pouring her heart out to me, that these past five years had been just as hard for her, if not harder, as they were for me. I wasn't the only one who needed someone, she had needed me too. And I wasn't there for her. I never realized how hard it had been on her, the worry she had to go through every day, not knowing if I was alive or okay.

We both put each other through hell, we both caused each other pain unintentionally, sometimes unknowingly. We were both lost, not knowing what to do with my sudden appearance.

And when she finally stopped, panting slightly from shouting for the past five minutes, she stared at me, her eyes filled with pain, her hair messy from running her fingers through it so many times, and her cheeks stained with tears, she still needed me, though she was to stubborn to admit it. I stood up and pulled her into my arms like I had been wanting to do all day, and held her.

For a second I forgot about everything, the pain, anger, betrayal, and I just held her, her familiar scent enveloping me, like wild flowers in the spring, with the slight saltiness of the ocean breeze, so Savannah. Just so her.

I knew I missed her, I knew I still loved her, but I never realized how much until that moment.

And if her grip, that was just as tight as mine, was any indicator, she missed me just as much. Her shoulder's shook slightly, and I didn't know if she was crying from sadness or happiness. I hoped it was the latter.

We stayed like for a long time, neither of us willing to let go, neither one of us willing to be the first one to pull away.

As my fingers combed through her hair, still just as soft and silky as I remembered, I knew I was home. I didn't matter if I considered Charleston my home anymore, I knew that as long as she was here, this is where I wanted to be, I would keep coming back, just as long as I knew she was here, I would keep coming back. Always. For her.

"I kept every single one of them." she admitted. The letter's I wrote her, she kept every single one. I hoped she didn't ask if I kept her letters, because I knew I wouldn't be able to lie to her. Not now, not after what we just shared.

She never asked, but something told me she knew and I felt guilty. She was strong enough to keep these reminders of me, but I wasn't strong enough to keep hers.

I felt a pang of regret for the first time. I had burned her letters, gotten rid of them the day I received that letter. I was angry and hurt, and I didn't want a single reminder of her. So I burned them, the only thing that was physical proof of those two weeks, besides my memories, had changed my life.

I smiled at the note she handed me.

"The first one that started it all." She whispered, smiling up at me.

'I love you' was scribbled across a crumpled piece of paper in my messy hand writing, my signature written hastily at the bottom.

"On Tim's water bill." She added, giggling. The sound made me smile, just another thing I missed about her.

She reached across the table to grab something, but her hand knocked into her wine glass, spilling it all over her shirt and mine. I laughed, shaking off some that had landed on my hand. She apologized profusely, a slight pink tingeing her cheeks.

The sight made me laugh even more.

She lead me upstairs to the bathroom, leaving me to clean up while she changed her shirt.

I stared at myself in the mirror, trying in vain to clean my shirt off and not think about her changing just ten feet from me. I couldn't think straight, all I wanted to do was walk into that room and kiss her, hold her, tell her how much I loved her and wanted her.

At that moment she caught my gaze in the mirror over her bare shoulder, her long blonde hair flowing down her naked back, her eyes staring into mine knowingly. My grip on the sink tightened, trying to tamp down on the emotions trying to claw their way out of me.

She was stand in her bedroom, the one she shared with her husband, and yet she didn't seem to be thinking about her husband at all.

My jaw tightened, and she seemed to understand. She looked down, pulling her shirt over her shoulders, the gesture seeming innocent and routine, but I knew. She turned away from me, she was closing me out.

I walked down the stairs slowly, grabbed my jacket out of the dining room, and slung it over my arm.

Savannah followed me, watching me silently.

"I should go." I said quietly. She nodded, smiling at me, but her eyes said differently.

"I'll see you soon then?" she asked, smiling slightly at our old routine. I closed my eyes, remembering the last time I heard those words, I believed them to be true, never realizing that would be the last time I saw her, the last time I would hear her say that.

"Remember? I say then you say it." she whispered, her smile slipping, tears forming in her eyes.

"Say it." she demanded weakly.

She's married.

"Just say it." she whispered, tears slipping down her face, her eyes pleading with me.

"Please." She added, begging me.

My own eyes filled with tears, knowing that if I said it, maybe we could forget that the past five years never happened, maybe we could be together, maybe we could go back to the way things were.

And I as I looked into her pleading eyes, the words I so desperately wanted to say on the tip of my tongue, I knew that I couldn't. Maybe a few years ago, I could have, but she didn't give me that chance. She didn't give us that option. She didn't choose us.

She's married.

She didn't choose me.

I turned away, opening the door and mustered up all the strength I could, my heart squeezing painfully in my chest, and whispered those words that I had never thought I would say to her.

"Goodbye, Savannah."

Do you want to know the last thing that entered my mind, before I blacked out?

You.

Soooo….. what do you think?

Let me know.

~Bri