AN: To be honest, I didn't really have anything particular in my when I started this. I just wanted to make something because I was afraid my chest might fall apart from all the feelings. Sometimes, I wish I were better. This is one of those times. (Well, this isn't depressing.) Anyway, all mistakes are mine. Standard disclaimers apply. And don't forget to leave me your reviews so I know someone's reading. :)
He doesn't leave til he's compelled the nurse on duty to give him hourly updates - not only on Sheriff Forbes, but also on Caroline.
Even though the rift they have is temporarily forgotten, he knows she needs this night to organise the thoughts in her head, to sort out her feelings. He understands that she needs this so she can't talk with her mother, her constant after he so unceremoniously abandoned her.
He has no illusions that he's already forgiven. He knows that it will take a lot more than heartbreaking confessions and hanging christmas lights to regain her trust, but he's sure now, that no matter what role they decide to play in each other's lives, he knows he's never leaving her again.
So he takes one lingering glance at her sleeping form on the chair beside the bed, blanket wrapped securely around her shoulders, before stepping out of the room.
He knows this is going to be a hard battle for Caroline. He's determined to show her that she isn't alone in the fight.
In the next few weeks that they spend in the hospital, they reach a silent truce.
She watches him carefully lead Sheriff Forbes around the garden of the hospital, his arm on her elbow for support. The Sheriff has lost some weight, the rise of her cheek more pronounced than she remembers.
The events of the past days agree with the doctor's initial advice - if the patient isn't willing to try chemo, then there's nothing else the medical world can do.
When the news was delivered, she watched her mother in her bed, calm. She doesn't understand why, tried multiple times to coax her into agreeing, but she's where she gets her stubbornness from. She doesn't want to spend her remaining days being subjected to treatment that will rob her of enjoying the simple things, doesn't want to waste away in hopes of getting better.
"I'm not giving up, Care." she says, both hands wrapped around one of her child's, eyes pleading for her to understand.
"I don't want to be alive but not be able to live."
She wants to argue even more, shake some sense into the only person she calls family, but they've done that so many times and they're both exhausted. So she wraps her arms around her mother until her arms hurt, until she can't breathe.
She knows that she's about to lose one of the only people she can truly count on, but she's going to try and keep her til she can.
They have a white blanket placed under one of the trees where its shadow sits, plates and several pieces of fruit littering the soft surface. In the corner, where the grass meets the shade, there's a bunch of flowers Stefan picked up before showing up, and in her hand is a single white daisy for her.
Everyday since he told her about her mother, she brings them both flowers - a bouquet for the Sheriff, and one for her.
And everyday since, he's been with them, picking up groceries, discussing possible treatment plans, or just lazing around enjoying her Netflix queue. She's grateful, so very grateful.
She watches them again as they share a secret, Stefan curling his fingers to whisper to the older blonde. They share a little laugh and she catches her mom's eyes staring at her, shoulders descending with a sigh.
She knows that look, she can recognise it from miles away. It's the same one she receives when she does something, some mundane task that somehow makes her smile - the one that means she's content.
She drops her gaze, overwhelmed at the pride she feels, because even though they have just some time left, at least she can say she made her happy. They made her happy.
The next time she lifts her eyes, they're making their way to her, Stefans palm still on her mom's elbow.
When they reach her, and they settles slowly back into their earlier positions on the blanket, Stefan proceeds to hand a bottle of water to the elder Forbes, helping her twist the cap off the plastic.
They sit in silence, watching other patients mill around the green space.
For a while she forgets that this is a hospital, that her mother is battling cancer. For a moment she forgets that she's hurting.
On bad days, when the pain in her chest is burning holes in her soul and her lungs refuse to take in the air she breathes, he still stays.
She's glad for Stefan, thankful her daughter has someone she can always fall back on.
Someone who doesn't assert himself into their lives, even though he's proven his worth so many times to them.
He allows them to share their moments together as mother and daughter, but always makes sure they know he will always be there.
In the earlier days of their hospital stay, she watches them skirt around each other in some peculiar dance of vampire feelings and teenage denial. He remains respectful of her space, never stepping into spaces unless he's called to.
These days he knows that her daughter needs his reassuring touch just as much as he does.
She watches him now, after a particularly bad day of bright green goo spilling out of her mouth. Her head is on his lap on the couch in front of the TV, has thumb playing with the lobe of her ear.
It's pretty obvious to anyone what they are to each other, she thinks they do, too.
He brushes his lips to his hair as he moves to leave.
"Aren't you staying?," she asks as he cleans up the table to his right.
"We're out of clean clothes and I need to shower.," he says with a laugh.
He was there for all of it - her refusal to use an oxygen mask, her heated arguement with the doctor.
But as she watches him pack their clothes into his big dark duffel bag, he doesn't look tired. Not at all.
What he looks like is happy, and she can't help but share his sentiments. Glad that her attempts at getting them to see just how completely idiotic they were being by denying their feelings, even though it failed one time (queue: christmas lights), are actually helping them mend their friendship.
When it happens, they're away to grab breakfast from the coffee place across the street.
As they turn to enter the room they've been in for the better part of a month, they find it glaringly empty.
She's in his arms in the blink of an eye, her sobs shaking his chest.
He understands that Liz didn't want Caroline to witness her passing, that she would've wanted her to remember her mother with her teasing remarks about their relationship instead of being haunted by her last breath.
His arms wrap around her shoulder and under the bend of her knees and he carries her away into the stillness of the woods, the sunlight just starting to warm the bed of dried leaves at their feet.
He settles them down, her legs tucked under her on the space between his parted limbs. She rests her forehead on his shoulder as the tears continue to stream down her face.
She doesn't make a noise, and in so many ways it hurts him more because there is nothing he can do now but hold her hand as she mends herself together.
For a moment he wonders if she wept like this when he left and he's shocked when a lone tear escapes the side of his eye.
They stay like that until the sky is high in the sky and the heat is beating down on the in harsh humid waves.
She pulls back a little, when she feels the moisture on her skin, craning her neck so she can look up to his face.
She watches his eyes as she extends an arm to his cheek.
She knows that look, she's seen it several times before.
It's the one he wears when he makes a promise.
As she lifts herself to plant a kiss along the wet trail on his face, she makes a silent promise of her own.
I promise I'm not letting you go.
AN: I had some issues with the POV, as I always do. I'm working on it, though. I hope you liked it. Please let me know what you think.