A/N: Just a little plot bunny that's been bouncing around in my head since finishing Vampire Academy. Takes place at some indeterminable time after Last Sacrifice. Enjoy.


I'm standing in the throne room, hands locked in front of me, attempting to seem engaged as someone rambles on and on about the current state of the court. Lissa nods, ever polite and indulgent when she's in here when I feel a loose thread on my uniform. I yank on it, attempting to break it off before it's noticed and it lurches me forward.

Tires squealing, the smell of rubber fills the car, my head slams into the window breaking the glass into thousands of tiny diamonds that rain down around me. The SUV flips once, twice, I see phones and purses flinging around the cabin. Black.

Mason. In the courtyard. His outstretched, see-through hand beckoning to me. His sad smile breaking my heart in my chest. Black.

The dark alley. The giant brick wall. I turn and all I see are red ringed eyes gleaming with victory. Black.

Russia. The prison room. I'm on the bed, on top of him, his vacant smile and red, red eyes looking back up at me. I can feel the stake in my hand. The panic. The pain. The love. The agony of what I know I'm about to do. I don't hesitate. My fists slice through the air swiftly landing with a loud thud onto his chest.

Roza.

The room starts to warp around me, walls breaking off into darkness. His hands wrap around my wrists. Firmly. That's not how this happened. I easily break the hold and bring my stake up again, slamming it harder into his chest.

"Rose," he says.

His hands close around my wrists again, and I am suddenly, brutally, awake.

The bright afternoon sun is managing to leak through our blackout curtains, catching on all the swirling dust particles in the room. Our room. I look around the massive space recognizing my dirty clothes in the corner, Dimitri's books stacked on his bedside table. I feel him take a breath, my hands rising with it and look down to see his graceful fingers wrapped around my wrists. I'm on top of him, straddling his waist, his long black t-shirt bunching around my hips. I blink and tears spill down my face, landing on his bare chest.

He puts some more pressure on his hold and moves my hands. Right over his heart. I try to suck in a miserable, shaky breath and all it accomplishes is more tears now pouring down my face. I'm slick with sweat from all my night terrors and his face is filled with gut-wrenching regret.

"I'm s..." He starts to say.

"Don't," I command. My voice thick as I force it through the ball of tears in my throat. "How many sorry's will it take until it's enough?"

"As many as it takes." He quietly replies, releasing my hands.

The frustration builds in my chest, swirling with my misery as I hastily wipe at all my tears. Why does he continue to do this to us? I'm flooded with the memory of my mandate to him and with another swipe at my eyes I demand,

"I told you I wouldn't…"

He sits up immediately, and I slide down his legs a little. His hands cup my face, his long fingers threading through my messy hair as he implores,

"I'm trying, Roza."

The desperate panic I saw that night in Kentucky is there. Right under the surface of his control. Maybe he isn't as calm as I thought. I nod, my face still in his hands and whisper, "I know."

But then, like always, the silence stretches out between us and suddenly I'm not so sure. We don't know how to talk about this. How could anyone ever understand what we went through? Why there just aren't words that can convey it all? And if we can't talk about this how can we ever resolve it? If we can't resolve it what does that mean?

I know it's showing all over my face. The one thing he hasn't been able to teach me - how to hide my emotions. But it's also the thing he loves most about me, and without a word, he pulls me forward kissing my forehead and whispering against the skin, over and over, like a prayer,

"Sozhaleyu."

I close my eyes and relax into his touch, sliding my head along the side of his own and down his neck until I can rest my forehead against his shoulder. My arms wrap around his chest and he runs a hand through my tangled hair, pulling me tighter and tighter against him. It still amazes me how perfectly I fit there. Because I was meant to. We were destined to be together, no matter what.

My tears drying and the panic finally ebbing out of my blood I lean heavily into him, my heart expanding in my chest and exhale,

"Just don't let me go."

"I never did." He reassures me, and I smile, despite how serious his tone is.

He lowers us back to the pillows, my arms and legs still wrapped around him like a koala until it's too uncomfortable to stay that way. Instead, I settle against his chest, lips right at his heart, kissing it with each beat I can hear in our silent room. As his fingers weave through my hair, I allow myself to sink deeper into him and sleep.