Authors Note:

Hello. It's been a crazy ass long time since i last wrote any fanfiction (about 5-6 years). So I'm writing VA fanfiction again because I have literally read every VA fanfiction and although some of them were good, none of them were what I wanted to read. So I wrote it instead. Yeah... Reviews more than welcome - of any kind.

Please consider that it has been a few years since I've done any serious writing (about 3) and I'm trying to get back into it through some light-hearted fanfic. Anyway, enjoy. :)

It had been six months since my return to Baia. I hadn't intended to stay so long. In fact, if it hadn't been for Lissa's suggestion, I might not have come at all. It wasn't that I didn't want to see my family, nor did it have anything to do with the guilt that seemed to nibble at my insides and make my stomach turn. I simply hadn't considered the idea of leaving Lissa's side for one moment.

But then I arrived here. I saw them.

I think they wanted to ask about Rose – I knew she'd been here back when… well, back in those days. I don't know why they didn't ask, but I was glad. What was I supposed to say? That I barely felt anything for her right now? That I could hardly feel anything at all? Even for them. My family. Even when they held me, crying and laughing and babbling their thanks to God. Even then I felt … nothing. Just guilt.

I got better, I think. I hadn't really considered the possibility of feeling happier – especially without Lissa. She was my saviour. But I did. I started to feel a little warm inside when Paul, my nephew, would crawl onto my lap for a hug in the morning, his eyes still heavy with sleep, his little body warm with content.

I felt a little more at peace when we visited the church on Sunday, and I saw the glint of fractured light through the stained glass window, rainbows dancing along the wooden floors, like liquid gem stones.

I even smiled one morning, after a few weeks, when I came downstairs and my mother ordered me to make a loaf of bread as she moved frantically from frying pan to frying pan – it was my birthday. I don't think she saw me smile. Or maybe I had imagined it. But the feeling was there, and I was glad.

It had been almost five months when I met Irena. Up until then, I e-mailed Lissa every day to update her, to let her know how I was doing. I think it was one of the things that kept me going. But Irena changed all that. I no longer needed kind words from a dull computer screen, because she smiled so softly, in a way that reminded me of the kindness in Lissa.

She brought me peace, and listened to my troubles. She let me sit in silence, and she held my hand when I trembled with the guilt. I even brought her home and introduced her to my mother. Olena didn't say much, but her smile was genuine. She was happy that I was finding more normality in my life.

Yeva… well, she just seemed angry. She wasn't angry with Irena, but I could feel the hostility as she stared at the dhampir girl with that calculating look in her eye. After Irena had left, she didn't hold back.

"She is not the one for you, Dimka," she scolded. Her brown eyes were alight with fury. "She calms your spirit and dulls your senses."

I snorted. "She makes me happy."

Yeva eyed me with contempt. "Not happy, Dimka. She makes your soul silent."

That was the first night I had gone out – I hadn't left the house with the intention of getting drunk, but something about Yeva's words drove me to a bottle. What did it matter, what she thought? I was the one learning to feel again, and I would do it any way I wished. But that hostility and contempt followed me for the following weeks, until I found myself drinking every night. Eventually, it got to a point where I was drinking alone at the kitchen table, my mother frowning disapprovingly as she snapped off the lights and wandered upstairs to bed. When she was gone and the bottle was almost empty, I would make my way out of the house and down to the 24 hour liquor store. The clerk may have been too afraid of me to deny my request for alcohol. He didn't know that there wasn't a lot of fight left in me.

Tonight was such a night. I was making my way home again, staggering through the streets and trying to undo the cap on the whiskey I had just purchased. Quite a few people still wandered around – after all, it was day for the Moroi community. The visitors here never stayed long enough to bother adjusting to our schedule.

A group wandered past me, and I saw one of their guardians glance at me, his expression disgusted. My hair was out of its usual pony tail, and it hid the marks on the back of my neck relatively well. But sometimes a reputation is more powerful than some marks.

"Belikov," the guardian muttered as we brushed past each other. "Your mother is looking for you."

I staggered to the side, surprised. "What?" I slurred.

The guardian hesitated. I didn't know his name, but I had seen him around pretty regularly. His Moroi apparently liked to visit. I forced myself not to sneer in disgust. He glanced between his Moroi and myself and shook his head. "Your mother. She asked me to tell you she was looking. If I saw you." With that, he hurried on.

I considered shouting my thanks after him, but by the time my sluggish brain had processed the thought he was disappearing around the corner. I shrugged to myself and waved in the direction he had gone before continuing on my way.

Strange. I had thought Mama had gone to bed. I never left the house until everyone was asleep. I didn't really want them to know that I was drinking so much. Only Irena really knew how much I drank, and that was because I regularly found myself knocking on her door at four in the morning. I usually didn't remember much about such events, but from what I did recall, I simply sat with her in her lounge room, crying while she held me.

It made me feel a little guilty, but the other night I had shown up a little more sober, and I had kissed her. The way her expression had lit up had sent a thrill through me. At the time, I had wondered why I hadn't been as excited by the kiss as I had been her reaction. But it had made her happy, and I was determined to kiss her more often.

I was nearing my house, and against the light of the street lamps I could make out four figures standing near the front gate. Guiltily, I waved a hand at them. The movement caught me a little off guard, and I stumbled slightly to the left. "Sorry," I called out. I hadn't meant to wake them all up. I couldn't see Yeva's little hunched figure, so I assumed my mother and my sisters were waiting for me. "I didn't mean to… to wake you," I called. My tongue felt a little thick with alcohol. Some time on my walk I had managed to get the cap off that whiskey.

"You have got to be fucking joking."

I froze.

"Comrade, are you drunk?"

I staggered back, dropping the whiskey onto the pavement. "Rose?" I garbled uncertainly.

One of the figures made its way toward me, and even in the dim light, even drunk, I recognized that silhouette, that long, dark hair that she had pulled into a pony tail to show off her marks. I didn't even need to see her face.

And suddenly, inexplicably, I was furious. What the hell was she doing here? What right did she have to come here, to bring that part of my life rushing back? What right did she have to remind me of everything I had left behind, of everything I had done when I was Strigoi? I flinched. I had coached myself not to even think the word, and nobody since my return had dared utter it either.

I was drunk, and scared, and utterly enraged. I didn't think, really, I just reacted. There she was, walking towards me like she was entitled to my pain. I lunged at her.

I don't know if she was expecting it, but even if she wasn't I should have known she could take me. She was sober, and emotionally stable. She wasn't the one staggering around like the world was tipping on its axis.

I must have caught her by surprise, because she barely deflected my blow. Ducking under her retaliating fist, I stumbled a little. Rose danced back a few feet, her fists up defensively. I lunged at her again, roaring angrily, as she stepped back under the light of a lamp post. It illuminated her face, drawing out the fury in her eyes, and the determined set of her mouth. For a very long, drunk moment, I thought I was looking at an angel. Not the same, forgiving angel that was Lissa, but the angry, avenging angel that was the woman I scorned.

I suppose, in my momentary lapse in concentration, I didn't notice the narrowing of her eyes, or the way she shifted her fist slightly. But I noticed when she pulled her fist back and snapped it forwards again, connecting it solidly right against the side of my eye. Well, at least I'd had enough foresight to turn away from it.

She seemed to move startlingly fast after that, stepping forward into my attack the way I had taught her, punching at my ribs until I flinched away. She grabbed my shoulder and forearm, hooked her leg behind my knee, and brought me crashing to the ground.

"What the hell, Comrade?" she exclaimed angrily. She was straddling me, pinning my hands against my thighs with her legs. Her expression was furious, but smug.

"What are you doing here?" I snarled, struggling to free my hands. "Who gave you the right?"

"Lissa, actually," she responded drily, raising her eyebrows. I stilled at the mention of Lissa. "Being the queen's favourite and all, she sort of has that power."

"Why?" I asked, my voice low and guilty. I thought I knew why. It had been almost a month since I had replied to one of her e-mails. Almost as long since I had even checked them.

"Because she's worried about you, duh." Rose rolled her eyes in exasperation. "And I'm the only one she can really trust to bring you back."

"I'm not going back," I snapped, bucking against her. "You can't make me." I sounded pathetically childish, and apparently Rose thought so too. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

"You forget, Comrade. I already brought you back once."

I looked at her, horrified. How could she bring that up? But there was no apology in her eyes, even when she saw the pain it caused me. If anything, her expression hardened. I wondered if I deserved it. I had left her – abandoned her. She didn't owe me anything, least of all her kindness.

"I'm doing this for Lissa," she muttered. My family had surrounded us now, including Yeva.

"And what exactly are you going to do if I refuse to come back with you?" I hissed.

Rose smiled without any humour. "I'll wait," she replied, her eyes narrowing.

"Well, I hope you have enough money to stay in the motel for the rest of your life," I snapped back. I knew she would. After all, Lissa would be funding this vacation. But it just felt like a little victory, and pinned as I was, a little victory was all I was going to get.

"Nonsense," Yeva said – in English, to my surprise. "Rose will be staying with us."

There was a moment of silence. I expected someone to protest, at least. Nobody did. I felt that rage building up inside of me again as Rose smirked down at me, victorious yet again.

"Well, that problem is –"

I cut Rose off before she could finish, freeing my hands and throwing her off me with all the force I could muster. In the time it took me to get to my feet, Rose was already there, right in front of me, a passionate anger written in her expression, and her fist once again flying towards my face.

I blocked a little, and turned away, but the blow was still strong and true, and it impacted with the force of a small truck against my temple. I don't even remember hitting the ground.