A/N: Ah, two year hiatus come back and realise I still have this story to tell. So this is just a small chapter to get back into the swing of things! Once again I own nothing expect the Original Character's that appear in this work of fiction. Everything else is copyright of Kelley Armstrong. Enjoy!


Chapter 2

Robyn wasn't sure what time she'd finally gone to bed and then off to sleep. Her mind hadn't stopped whirling since Jen's departure. It wasn't just the thought of going out the following night – though that certainly played a part – but also the feelings that she'd drummed up since the wedding. These feelings were what had caused her to go rooting around the back of her closet and pulling out the old scrapbook. She'd started it after Damon's death. It had, for a time, been the only thing that had kept her getting up in the morning. There had been something soothing about scouring the papers looking for senseless tragedies. Then clipping them and laying them out neatly.

It was all a reminder that people were just shitty to each other and what had happened to her wasn't some fluke of chance or karma. It was just another case of people being horrible to each other. Her fingers had trailed over each article, skimming each one over, relieving the moment she'd found it, then emotions that had dominated that day. Then she'd flipped to the front and found the article that had started it all.

She'd sat awake for such a long time looking at that picture, that sombre badly chosen picture. It had been then that the truth had hit her. She barely remembered anything about Damon anymore. The large things she'd never forget, yet, the small things had somehow been wiped from her memory. His smell, the roughness of his hands, how he tasted and the words he murmured when they made love. She barely even remembered what he looked like unless a picture was placed before her.

A wave of guilt had fallen over her at that thought and it was this guilt that she woke up with.

A sharp knock on the door to her apartment startled her awake. Her body ached from the curled position she'd fell asleep in during the night. There was a moment when he'd thought she'd imagined the knock until it came again. Mumbling to herself as she untangled from the bed sheets careful not to knock the scrapbook she'd fell asleep with onto the floor and stumbled out her bedroom and towards the door.

Who could be calling at this hour? She'd wondered whilst blinking sleepily at the clock. It took her a couple of seconds to register the time. Ten forty am. Shit! She was going to be late for work! She was seconds from turning and heading back into her bedroom to start getting ready when that knock came again.

Oh yes, the door and the persistent person on the other end. Brushing her hair with her fingers and checking her reflection in the nearby mirror to make sure she looked at least a little respectable. Which she would have done if it wasn't for the imprint from the edge of the scrap book on her left cheek, she rubbed the spot trying to get the mark to go as she turned and flipped the lock on the door and gently opened it ready with an apology.

"Is this yours?" a voice asked, though the owner of the voice was obscured by the item they were holding out before them towards Robyn. The item in question gave a very timid meow in her direction.

"No," Robyn replied with a frown, trying to get a good look at the owner of the voice. He seemed determined to keep the cat almost level with his face "I don't own a cat."

"The old lady said it was yours." The man said letting go of the scruff of the rather large cats neck and letting it drop into Robyn's arms. This at least gave Robyn a view of his face. He was handsome, though not in a way that would be appealing to a woman with good sense. High cheeks bones, a small thin mouth and deep set dark eyes gave him a look that wouldn't look out of place on a Hollywood bad boy and not one of those bad boys who were secretly good guys. Just straight out the guy that would get you in a shoot out with the cops.

"Well, it's not." Robyn replied, though pulled the tubby animal towards her protectively.

"Sure seems like it's yours." The accent that she placed somewhere from the southern region and the slightly curled dishwater blonde hair that was making a daring escape from the ponytail he had it in certainly didn't help matters.

"As I said, I don't own a cat." Still she shifted the cat in her arms whilst her mind wandered over whether there was anything in the fridge she could feed it before taking it down the animal shelter "But I'll take him to the shelter later. Now if you'll excuse me I have to get ready for work." And with that said she started went to push the door closed only to find it blocked by her nameless neighbours hand.

"It's a her." he said leaning forwards slightly "The cat." he clarified nodding towards the animal in question "Just thought you should know."

He was gone before Robyn could thank him for that bit of information or perhaps quiz him on why he insist referring to the cat as an it when he'd know the sex of the animal all along. Closing the door she turned and looked at the cat with a small smile "Charming."


A/N: On a little side note, if anyone wants to be a beta reader for me that would be great. Someone to help with spelling, grammar and continuity!