A/N: A big thanks for all the reviews/alerts/favorites from the prologue. This chapter is pretty much split in half: past and present, giving a small first look in to the stark differences (and possible similarities) between the old and new versions of Damon and Elena.
I've once again picked a Shinedown song, thought won't be using them for every chapter. The chorus in this song fits from both of their perspectives.
Thanks for reading!
Through the Ghost
Chapter One: Call Me
2008
"Are you yawning?" Captain Caroline Forbes smirked at Elena from across their raised, round bar table. "Oh my God, you are! Elena," she whined playfully, "You promised."
"I'm sorry," she shook her head, feeling another yawn pulling at her, "I'm not used to this. It's been a long day. I promised you one drink," her eyes scooted toward the two empty upside-down shot glasses next to her. "I'd say I more than fulfilled my end of the deal,"
"It's 9 p.m. on a Friday night. You're 26-years-old. You can't tell me you'd be sleeping if you were home."
"Correction," she held up her finger, "My body may be here but my mind is still in Germany. It's 4 a.m. to me," Elena tipped her glass against her lips so a cube of ice could slide into her mouth. She chewed it for a few second, squinting across the bar at a group of loud soldiers walked in, hooting and making a scene. "Ugh…they're a mess…" she said out of the corner of her mouth. "And I am way too tired for this tonight…"
They'd be in for it when they were caught being rowdy in public in uniform, she knew. Worst of all she could name off a few of them; Sergeant Kol Mikaelson, Damon…er, Sergeant Damon Salvatore…
Just the sight of him frustrated her. She'd done therapy with him the day before for his ankle and cursed herself for thinking he had nice eyes. They'd barely talked and she'd sworn he'd muttered something along the lines of "grumpy Gilbert" under his breath when she'd turned to look at his chart. But she knew him now, and couldn't watch him make a fool of himself in public….because he was her patient, of course…
She could've kicked herself for that; she'd had a lot of patients over the years and knew better than to take anyone under her wing. So she came off rough and disinterested, as if she didn't care about the men and women she treated, just about ability to serve their ability to serve their country. But inside she was freaking, because for whatever reason, there was something different about this man. He was cocky and challenging and irritated the hell out of her. He didn't behave like a dedicated soldier should; he should know better than to act so foolishly. Now it seemed he had no common sense, either. Her analysis ended when Caroline spoke.
"Oh live a little," she waved her hand in nonchalance. She tipped the rest of her apple martini down her throat and set her empty glass back on the table. "They aren't going to bother us…those guys are out for some tail," Elena frowned at the thought before Caroline continued. She was probably right.
"But back to your jetlag issues…all the more reason to celebrate. How lucky are you to come back from a year-long deployment in Germany and end up at base not too far from home?"
"Maybe," she shrugged, tearing her eyes away from the men. Her shoulders felt heavy. She heaved a sigh, bringing her head back into the game. No more distractions. It was all too easy to get sidetracked these days. "Call me crazy, but I would've gone somewhere tougher in a heartbeat. I kind of came home feeling like I didn't do anything. I'm in this field for a reason. I feel like I'm wasting it…I wanted more,"
"Those soldiers needed you, too," Caroline nodded. "Just as much as the ones in Iraq, Elena. You did your job and now you're home. These women and men need you, too. Be happy. Let's celebrate," she slapped her hand on the table and jumped off her stool. Elena blinked a few times as she saw her new friend walking to the bar, and she knew she wasn't getting out of the rest of the night when the blonde walked back with a thousand kilowatt smile and two shot glasses between her fingers.
"A toast," she set one down carefully in front of Elena. "To your return and to us, the two hottest bitches in the US Army Physical Therapy program," her eyes widened with emphasis as she raised her glass and held it in the air until Elena reluctantly raised hers. "And to the promise I'm about to make you," they clinked glasses before hammering down the alcohol.
Elena cringed, chasing it with a few more ice cubes. "No more promises…please…" she held up her hand with a smile. "I'm waving my white flag here, dammit. You won; you got me to come out with you after two nights of begging," she sighed, her eyes shifting toward Damon again.
"Yes, God forbid you actually try to enjoy yourself for a change," she said sarcastically with an eye roll. "I've only known you five days but I can tell you're too wound up from the time we've spent together."
"We're only ever at the clinic," she said. "Of course I'm going to be serious there,"
"Yeah, our jobs are important but you still have to be you. So let's make a deal, right now. I promise to ease up on you if you promise to at least try to chill out a little. Seriously, what's up with you?"
"I'm having trouble here…at Fort Drum," she clarified. "I know it hasn't even been a week…something's just off. I don't normally have problems with the soldiers but I'm having a hell of a time getting through to this one guy. He just doesn't take me seriously…" she forced herself to meet Caroline's eyes and not give herself away by looking at Damon, but his arm was slung around some blonde bimbo's shoulders and her heart hammered for no good reason.
"You seem plenty focused to me," she smiled. "Well, maybe not right now," she watched Elena adjust herself on the stool slowly, "But all the guys I've heard from have been saying how much of a hard-ass you are," she leaned in and whispered, "Which I still have to thank you for because they are actually being kinder toward me now," she teased. "They are all respectful, but you know what I mean. I get a smile every once in a while. This job has its perks…I'm a woman, too, you know,"
Elena sighed. Caroline Forbes was out of her mind. She was professional on duty but when the fatigues came off, she was a little too candid.
"I don't like distractions," Elena swallowed thickly, her mouth like cotton. "I've been away from New York for years, Care. I'm not the type to get homesick," she laughed with realization, "But being here, so close to my family and friends…I think it's doing things to me. I can't let it. I can't think like that until I have to,"
"You know what?" she smiled. "I think you were put here for a reason," she put her hands on her hips, proud of her realization. "You need to loosen the hell up when you're off duty…starting with your clothes. It's better than fatigues, but you didn't have to wear a sweater and jeans,"
"It's just me," she shrugged. "And it's nice of you to do all this…take me out to welcome me aboard and all that…but I'm afraid I'm not going to turn out the way you think I will," she shook her head. "I'm serious, yeah. And if the guys want to call me a hard-ass that's fine," she swallowed, pausing when she heard yelling from the loud group of men at the table across the room. "But with guys like that out there, someone has to be serious. We can't have the country relying on that for an image of what we do. I want people to be proud of our work,"
"You have nothing to prove, Elena," she shook her head. "We know you're dedicated. You're allowed to have a personality. That's not in the handbook,"
Elena felt her lips turn up in a smile. She wasn't a talker; she didn't have many girl friends as a child and wasn't into the gossip or emotion-vomiting sessions she knew other women her age were. She was safe inside her head, where no one stood the chance to hurt her. Sure, it got too be too much sometimes, but she worked through it. It was nothing she couldn't handle.
But Caroline had a point, too. There was a strong chance she wouldn't always be with the Army. Eventually she'd be a civilian and completely unprepared for that life if she didn't start allowing pieces of reality in now. But they'd been at the bar an hour and were four drinks in. She'd be making no big decisions that particular night.
Elena licked her lips again, fighting the dryness in her mouth. "I think I'm going to head up to the bar and get some water. Did you want some?" She asked, scooting off the stool and onto her feet.
"Yeah, sure," she said, happy Elena hadn't mentioned wanting to leave. Neither of them was in driving-condition, and if they kept it up, they'd be calling Tyler to pick their drunk asses up in a few hours. At least they were smart enough to not wear their uniforms, unlike their comrades a few feet away, she thought.
Through the beat of the bass, Elena squeezed her way through the crowd. In her head she was screaming; she was out of her element and hadn't the slightest idea how to act. And she appreciated Caroline trying to make her feel comfortable, but this was too much too fast. She needed fresh air, to be away from the crowds and the loud music and the annoying men down the way who were disgracing the military with their ludicrous behavior.
If she'd had the energy or willpower to do so, she would've walked right up to the table and told them to quit while they were ahead. Yeah, that wouldn't really help her shake the image they had of her, would it? Grumpy Gilbert. But it wasn't like she really cared…
"Just a water, please," she said to the blonde bartender in the see-through shirt when she looked her way. Great. This girl had just been all over Damon a few minutes ago. She waited for acknowledgement but after a moment realized the woman's smile was directed at the person behind her. Suddenly aware of just how close he was, Elena froze in place.
"Listen, honey," the soldier said to the bartender, "My buddies and I need a few more pitchers of beer…" a chill ran down her spine; he was so close his hot breath reached the back of her neck. His voice was devilishly smooth, almost too smooth for the amount of alcohol he'd consumed. She'd heard it only once before but immediately memorized it. And it was stupid, but she'd know that voice anywhere.
"Of course," the bartender filled two pitchers and slid them to the edge of the counter with a smile. "Let me walk them over for you boys…"
"What'll that be?" He reached in his uniform and dug out his wallet. "Fifteen bucks?"
"On the house for some good men out to protect this country," she batted her eyelashes and Elena felt a gagging sensation rising in her throat. He was staring at the back of her head, hadn't he seen her? He was practically breathing down the back of her stupid, itchy sweater.
"Uh, that's not a good idea," Elena jumped in the middle of the conversation. "I think they've had enough. Now, how about that water?" Elena mentioned again and the bartender snapped her head toward her.
"Uh, what?" Damon said, his voice tickling her skin again. She turned and shot him a quick glare, just fast enough to not get hung up his stupid smile. "Don't listen to her, Daphne," he looked past her and back at the woman behind the counter. "Bring on the beer,"
"Listen, I get it…" Daphne popped her bubblegum in Elena's direction. She could've have been more than 19-years-old. "Ladies first and all that, but can you blame me?" Her New York accent was thick. "I mean look at the guy," she held out her hand to make a point.
"Trust me. I've seen him," Elena rolled her eyes, but despite her better judgment, she did. The alcohol in her veins told her to let herself look at him for more than a second…if only to tell him off, tell him how much of an ass he was making of himself and the Army in front of the crowded bar.
Positioned to say something smart to him, she felt the air leave her lungs when she turned. She'd seen him before under florescent lights, in a bright, normal environment that she was used to, but here was very different. They weren't patient and therapist here.
"Well if it isn't Grumps herself?" He smirked. "Didn't peg you as a barfly, Gilbert. Wait 'til the guys hear about this….you out here kicking my ass for having a good time."
He looked younger, more handsome, the type who got attention wherever he went, she figured. And even someone as clueless as she was about relationships knew a guy like him didn't need to wear his fatigues and get wasted to get that attention. He was a living, breathing, 23-year-old Adonis…even a stuffy hard-ass like herself could see that. And the fact that she'd come to that conclusion twice in a matter of two days told her he wasn't the only one acting stupid that night. She needed to get home before she did something else she'd regret. She was all too interested and courageous.
"We're not talking about me, okay? Why don't you do us all a favor and take your boys and get back to the base. I can already see you hobbling on that bum ankle of yours, so you better get your act together..."
"Listen sweetheart," he focused on her brown eyes for the first time that night and his cocky smile faded. He cleared his throat and started again. "I know what I'm doing…you're not in charge of me, okay? I'm a big boy. I can handle myself. Go back to Forbes and enjoy your fruity cocktails,"
Elena's jaw dropped. "Excuse us," she sent a quick glance at the bartender and grabbed the black haired man by the camouflaged sleeve, dragging him away from the bar to a more secluded area.
"You're a tough little cookie, you know that?" He laughed. "And a confusing one, too. If you wanted to get me alone why didn't you say so?" He almost tripped but steadied himself against the edge of a pool table and crossed his arms. "Didn't have to make a scene in front of Daphne, there…" he nodded when he saw the bartender not-so-smoothly walk past them with a little wave.
"I'm not a cookie. I'm your physical therapist and I'm telling you you're making a complete ass of yourself. Go home, Salvatore,"
Hours later, when this was over and she was alone, she'd wish she'd have minded her own business. But just then she couldn't get past it; the cocky attitude, his irresponsibility…those damn blue eyes.
And the she was having trouble breathing because the bar was hot and crowded, not because he'd knocked her senseless with his stupid lopsided smile. Oh, he was trouble and she could see it coming from a mile away. When anyone else would've just backed off, he matched her dig for dig, and that lit things in her she didn't know she was capable of feeling. Hot, needy things.
Damn it. No time to psychoanalyze herself now…
"What do you care? Afraid I'll hurt myself and you'll have to deal with me for more than just three more weeks?" He smirked.
"Just shut up. I meant what I said. Quit while you're ahead. Call a cab, get some coffee and go home before someone finds you here…like this…" she waved her hands in his direction. "Are you trying to get in trouble? Don't you care?"
"I'll be back at Fort Drum in an hour and go right to bed, Mommy," he crossed his heart with his fingers and she rolled her eyes. He pushed himself off the pool table and walked up to her with surprise in his eyes. His little charms hadn't seemed to work on her.
"And another thing, I'm not a barfly. I just had the misfortune of making good on a promise the same night you decided to confirm how much of an idiot you are,"
He frustrated her because he got under her skin, into her head…a place she didn't let anyone go.
"You rushed through our appointment like I was taking up your time. You couldn't get rid of me fast enough yet here you are, trying to do me this 'favor' you keep mentioning."
"Because you said something stupid and offensive right out the gate," she laughed. "You don't walk into my office, so to speak, and tell me I don't know how to do my job,"
"I said you didn't look like the usual physical therapist. Ever think it was a compliment? Take a pill, Gilbert," he laughed, shaking his head. "I don't get you," he said seriously. "So while we're doing each other favors, how about you do me one and keep this between us. I promise I won't tell the guys that you have a heart," he smirked when her mouth fell open.
"You are irritating," she eyed him carefully and her heart danced. Her body was betraying her and she hoped she was the only one who noticed. She was 13 shades of red by now, she was sure, and her heart felt like it was pounding louder than the beat of the music.
"No," he smiled. "I'm fun," he put his hand on her shoulder and looked down into her eyes. "Look at you, all tense," his fingers pressed gently into her shoulder and let out a small gasp at the touch. "I'd think a therapist like you would know how to work this out," he watched her shoulder carefully as it moved under his hand.
Other than medical purposes, she wasn't a touchy-feely person but his hand felt strong and warm. She didn't want to like it but couldn't bring herself to pull away. She was just as bad as that stupid bartender.
Instead of pushing him away, she stared him right in the eyes and acted like everything he'd just said and done didn't boil her blood in the hottest way possible. Courage under fire. "Pent up, maybe?" his eyes searched hers.
"I take it back. You're not just irritating. You're also inappropriate and nosy…" she arched her eyebrows.
"That's a yes. Just because you can't get laid doesn't mean you have to stop me from having a good time. Now I've been working on Daphne all night here, and you stomping your feet and pouting like a jealous girlfriend is going to give her the wrong idea. How about you don't make me look like an asshole, okay?"
"You're doing a fine job of if yourself," she shot back. "You have some serious nerve talking to me like that. You don't even know me. One little therapy appointment does not give you permission to talk to me like this." She swallowed. "You're being rude and inconsiderate."
"So why are you still in front of me?" He arched an eyebrow. When she said nothing, he continued. "You're stone-faced, so excuse me for not realizing you had feelings at risk of being hurt. Sorry," he said, but she knew he hadn't meant the apology. "My bad."
She broke their eye connection and looked down at her feet, a bitter smile gracing her lips. She didn't know why, but she secretly liked the way he pushed her buttons.
"I'm just saying life is short. It's okay to have fun, you know. We're not in prison,"
"Sensible fun….like a drink with an appetizer fun…not this," she felt her face flushing again. "Just think of how this looks to everyone…"
"So what are you doing?" He arched his dark eyebrows. "Sure, you're not in uniform…you're in some kind of sweater thing…" he frowned, "but you're a little more relaxed than you were the other day. Would you call yourself sober right now?" His hand remained on her shoulder for just another moment before she rolled her neck and stepped back, needing air.
"Yes. I would," she answered quickly, not sure if it was a lie. It was hard to tell if she was woozy from the alcohol or the nauseating conversation they were having. "And I'm also done here, so if you'll move out of the way, I'd like to get back to my table, grab my things and get the hell out of here."
And for a moment she thought he wasn't going to move, but without another word he slid to the side and let her walk past with an annoyed look on her face. He watched her closely as she made her way back to her now empty table and spotted Caroline over at the table with Kol and the other guys. A smirk graced his lips when he realized just how much that would piss off little miss grumpy cookie.
The blonde was laughing and smiling at Kol, pouring herself a beer from the pitchers someone had no doubt retrieved after Damon and Elena had walked away. Caroline's eyes widened when they landed on a red-faced Elena walking a few feet ahead of the dark-haired soldier she'd been frowning at earlier.
"Uh-oh," Kol muttered under his breath, taking a swig of his beer. Caroline smiled at the scowl on both of their faces when they approached.
"What took so long?" Kol's eyebrows raised.
"I found something that belongs to you," Elena said to Sgt. Mikaelson, knowing Damon standing right behind her. "You might want to keep better track of him next time. Come on Care. I'm done here," she sent her a pleading look and prayed her new friend would sense something had happened. "I'm not paid to babysit grown men. If they want to ruin their careers, let them,"
"Shit, Salvatore," Kol breathed. Thankfully, Caroline nodded and gave Kol a forgiving smile before grabbing their things and following Elena as she was halfway out the door.
She couldn't get outside fast enough. What the hell had just happened? She told herself it was her duty to step in and talk sense into her fellow soldiers but she could've walked away a lot earlier than she had.
"What was that?" Caroline asked, unable to keep the smile from her lips again. The cold air whipped through Elena's hair, tugging long strands out from her bun and blowing them around the frame of her face.
"That was a distraction," she said, looking up at the sky. "The reason I don't do this kind of thing,"
"He's cute," she admitted.
"He's an idiot," she said but was reminding herself more than she was telling Caroline. Captain Forbes knew all about Damon Salvatore, she was sure. She'd been in the therapy program at Fort Drum for six months before Elena got there.
"Oh God, you're into him," she squealed. "Elena…"
"I hope that was a joke," she shot back. "He's a fool, a baby, Caroline. He's way younger than me and he's going to blow his shot at a good career here."
"He's a little wild," she admitted. "But he's got his reasons. I haven't talked to him much but he's buddies with Tyler and he's told me the guy's all Carpe Diem and all that," she swallowed. "When he's working, though, he's very different. Tyler said he knows his limits…"
"Could've fooled me," she mumbled.
"Why is this bothering you so much?" She laughed. "Kol was there, too, doing the exact same thing."
"To a lesser degree," Elena added. "And by the way, what the hell was with the giggling? Fraternizing with patients, Care? You better be careful. I saw that look in your eyes,"
Caroline couldn't help but smile. Despite what she wanted to admit, the few drinks had loosened her new friend up a bit. "He's cute, but I know better than to do that, don't worry."
And so did Elena. That's why she had to remind herself that as beautiful as Damon Salvatore was, he was an arrogant ass that was completely off limits….and that she wouldn't have wanted him in different circumstances, anyway. Not with an attitude like that…
"Because you know what could happen," she swallowed. "And why it's important to stay detached," her voice cracked a bit when she realized she was talking to herself and not her friend. She let out a sigh and walked into a phone booth to dial Tyler to pick them up. He was a good friend and dietitian at Fort Drum.
"Eh, we're not that far away. We walked here…I think we can make it back," Caroline called out and Elena hung up the phone before she dialed. "You're lucky to have a place off base,"
"Sanity purposes," Elena smiled. "I lived on base for years. I'm a private person…I like my space. It gives me time to think. What about you? You did another few shots after I walked away from the table, didn't you? You going to be okay showing up on base like that?"
"Nope," Caroline smiled. "Care to take a drunken soldier home and let me crash at your place?"
And for whatever reason, Elena laughed. It was easier than thinking of what would happen if she'd taken a different drunken soldier home….
Maybe it was the alcohol or the fact that she was overtired, but she felt ridiculously loopy. "Sure. Let's just not make a habit of this, got it? I'll admit, it was kind of nice to have something to do at night for a change, but I think I don't think I'm quite ready for barhopping again anytime soon."
And as they began to walk, she couldn't help but steal a look over her shoulder back at the bar when she heard a familiar loud voice stepping outside. And for a split second, she made distant but powerful eye contact with Damon Salvatore as his arm was wrapped around the narrow shoulders of Daphne. She swore something shifted in his eyes for just a second before he broke the connection and kissed the bartender on the cheek as they walked past them without another glance.
She'd go home and lie in bed, staring at the ceiling while Caroline talked to her from the couch in the living room about the plans she had for when she got out of the military. And she was jabbering on for a while but Elena couldn't make sense of any of it. Her heart was still hammering remembering his touch, his words and the absolute sick feeling in the pit of her stomach when he'd walked away with another woman.
Present Day
"Go home, Elena," a brown haired man said behind her, snapping her out of a trance she hadn't realized she'd fallen into. Her eyes came into focus and she looked at the clock on the wall. 9 p.m…no one would be coming in anymore that night. Her volunteer hours had ended an hour ago but she couldn't bring herself to walk out the door.
"Right," she stood up from her chair and smiled at Elijah. "I lost track of the time," she tugged her coat on and buttoned it slowly. It had been a week and a half since she'd run into Damon at the café and she was still waiting for him to walk through those doors and ask for her. She swallowed, frustrated that she'd obsessed about the single conversation they'd had. There hadn't been much to on the surface, but that one honest admission he'd made at the end about his state of mind had her panicked. He wasn't okay. Neither was she, she could argue, but it wasn't even close to the same.
That hollow look in his eyes had nothing to do with their fragile relationship, but her feelings for him often made that easy to forget. Against her better judgment, she'd stopped seeing him as just another soldier shortly after they'd met. It had been exciting and challenging and giving into him was probably the best decision she'd ever made. She'd lost control of herself over him and she still didn't have it back. Maybe if she'd tried a little harder she could've gotten over him…come to think of it she'd never really tried at all. Matt was the biggest attempt at starting over and it clearly wasn't going well.
"What's going on with you lately?" He fastened the buttons of his coat and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "You've been here every day this week. I love the extra help and you're always welcome if this is where you want to be, but aren't you getting worn out? Matt said you've been working full shifts at the clinic, too."
"I'm already worn out," she smiled. "I've been worn out for years," she dug for her keys in her purse as she continued, "And things are crazy for me right now. Believe it or not, I'm calmest when I'm here."
Waiting for him.
Maybe it he'd just had a moment of weakness last week and she'd never see him again. She'd thought of that and cringed, unable to deal with the idea that he might have changed his mind about wanting to talk to her. And it was dangerous to feel the way she did, because if he did walk through those doors and sit down with her, she wouldn't hear the story of a stranger like she had so many times before. Those had been sad and hard enough at times…thinking that those men were people's husbands, fathers, sons… that someone loved them and waited for them the way she'd waited for Damon… there was no such thing as just a soldier. Loving one made that clear.
She'd wanted to be there for him for years and he hadn't let her. She couldn't let her head and fears stop her from being supportive. There were veteran hospitals in Chicago. She'd figured he'd talked to Alaric when he'd moved to Chicago but now knew that hadn't been the case. He'd said he hadn't talked about it since he got back and that terrified her. He was very likely behind the haze of PTSD and she'd give anything to be the one to help pull him through. He'd come home to New York City for a reason and Elena needed to believe that reason was her.
But she couldn't shake the memory of the blank look in his eyes. He'd always been so witty and snarky. She mourned the man she loved and that was a problem. He may very well never be that man again; she'd have to learn to accept that if she wanted to know him.
Disappointed that she'd found her keys without much effort, she walked through the foyer after Elijah opened the door for her. She wasn't ready to go home. The sooner she went to sleep the sooner she'd wake up and have to see Matt at the clinic. She was having enough trouble as it was looking him in the eye and she hadn't gotten around to mentioning her encounter with Damon the week before. The longer she waited the harder it was going to be to explain.
It would be hard to keep the emotion out of her voice when she said Damon's name and no matter how uncertain she was about her feelings for Matt, she didn't want to break his heart. If she let herself think about it long enough she knew how it was going to end. Matt was patient but he wasn't going to sit there and watch her fall all over herself for Damon again…not even as a friend. She was going to lose one of them.
The not-so-funny part was the men knew each other. They'd only met once but it had been enough for each of them to form an opinion of the other. And it had been Matt's arms she'd fallen into when Damon turned her away. It wasn't enough, however; as long as Damon Salvatore was breathing, it never would be. The more she thought about it, she'd already made her decision. She couldn't keep Matt as a placeholder until Damon was ready. There was a chance he may never want her again…that maybe he really just wanted to talk to someone, be a friend…but she saw the twinkle in his eyes every night as she fell asleep. It gave her hope she could only pray was worth something.
"Well, anyway, take care of yourself, okay? You're one of the favorites here, you know. We care about you and don't want you to burn out," Elijah unlocked his car door and popped it open. "Tell Matt trivia at Chumpy's got moved to Thursday this week," he added. "I can't have my buddy missing out on the tournament. The guy's a pop culture wizard. See ya, Elena." He gave her a little wave and pulled away from the curb.
Yeah, she was in a tangled up mess of men. Maybe it was a good thing Damon hadn't shown up that night. Elijah and Matt were close and the veteran visits were supposed to be confidential, but if Matt saw her no-doubt cozied up to one very dark haired, blue-eyed man, she was certain he'd accidentally say something to his friend. Her mannerisms spoke volumes when she was near Damon.
"Am I too late?" some version of a velvet voice said from behind her.
She jumped, taking a deep breath of cold air and spinning around at his words. Coughing out the cold air at the sight of him, her hand moved up to massage her throat with a frown.
"Damon, you scared me." Her heart was pounding so hard she could barely hear herself speak. Or think. She drank him in, hair thick enough to blow in the wind, stubbly cheeks and lips just begging to fall into that lopsided smile she knew and loved. He was a masterpiece of a man. The way he was looking at her on that cold street was enough to heat her more than any look Matt had ever given her. Even in bed. Yeah, she was still in trouble with a capital T.
"Didn't mean to," he shrugged, hands still in his pockets. "I can come back another time," he tipped his head toward the building. His eyes drifted along her features, floating slowly from her wavy hair to her mascara to her red lips. She'd always been pretty to him…had been even in camouflage...but she'd dressed up for him once, just before he'd gone. If it was even possible, she was more beautiful now.
"Looks like you have somewhere to be," he managed before he felt his throat tighten.
"No…" she said quickly. The lipstick was absolutely for him and she was a fool because of it.
She was thankful she'd told Matt she'd be too tired to hang out that night. He'd commented that she'd been spending a lot of time volunteering lately and that he was concerned she wasn't getting enough down time. He was always so considerate….always so afraid to say anything that might hurt her feelings. It made life easy. And boring…just the way she used to like it.
"I was just going home to a book anyway,"
Suddenly she felt guilty for not mentioning her relationship with Matt. They'd barely said fifty words to each other and she felt the need to spill every moment of indiscretion in the last four years. She would tell him, but not like this. The more she thought about it, there wasn't much to tell. She'd ended up with Matt by default when the ground had come up from underneath her. If she was anyone else, she'd take the guy up on every offer he gave her and never let him go. But she'd learned a long time ago that she couldn't be anyone but herself. No matter how they might end up, Damon Salvatore would always be someone important in her life.
He blinked at her a few times, hoping he could come up with something to say before she turned on her heels and got in her car. He saw her stifle a yawn and couldn't hide a tiny smirk. He remembered a time when she was too stubborn to admit any weakness, even exhaustion. He'd been looking at the same picture of her for years; this new, beautiful but overtired version in front of him wore him down.
And when he said nothing in response to her setup, she sighed in frustration. Talking to Damon these days was like pulling teeth. And she could've been stubborn and made him be the one to suggest it, but there was a good chance they'd stand there and stare at each other all night if she wasn't the one to speak first.
"Come on," she relocked her car and stepped a few feet forward, sinking her gloved hands in her pockets and looking back at him. "Let's go."
"Where?" He asked, his breath lingering in the cold air for a second.
"Anywhere. You're choice," she said. "Now come on. If you've changed your mind and you don't want to talk to me it's okay. There are other volunteers. This is just a walk, okay? No big deal. We're just us…"
He eyed her carefully, wondering how it was possible that she was even talking to him. He was lucky as hell, he knew. It was a damn shame he'd probably disappoint her and say the wrong things.
"What's that mean?"
"I have no idea," she admitted sadly. "So let's just go,"
"Yeah, okay," he gave her a nod, stepping so he was next to her. Elena was a naturally fast walker but she slowed her stride when she was reminded of his limp. Choking back the urge to flat out ask him what had happened, she tried to ignore it. And she felt insensitive for avoiding it but had heard plenty of stories about people not wanting sympathy for injuries. For all she knew he'd strained his foot walking around the city.
They walked in silence for a few blocks, hearing nothing but the buzzing of the city. Every once in a while she'd glance in his direction, searching for some expression that would tell her what he was looking for. But he was stone-faced, as if he couldn't have cared less if she was there or not.
She stopped when they reached a corner, waiting for the WALK sign to indicate it was safe to go. Standing in a clump of strangers, she realized just how emotionally distant they were.
"It's weird, you know," he said, his eyes moving from one bright building to the next. "You'd think all big cities are the same…but they aren't," she looked up at him just before the group began to walk. "Chicago was different."
The knot in Elena's stomach tightened. This was what she wanted, wasn't it? She wanted him to talk to her. As painful as the answers were, she was desperate to know why he'd moved anywhere but back home to her two years ago. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't separate solider from man when it came to him. Selfishly, she fit herself into equations she didn't always belong in. He'd had a life before they met, despite what he once told her.
"Which was exactly what I wanted at the time," he continued. "I couldn't come here,"
"Why?" The word flew out of her mouth in a cry. It had been on the tip of her tongue for years and it was all too easy to lose her self-control around him. They started to walk slower now. She noticed his leg bothering him and fell into an easier pace.
"Because I didn't want to be me," he stopped, frowning. "I thought I could start over…" His honesty tore into her. She took a breath and wished, more than anything, that she'd stayed that unemotional, bull-headed woman she used to be. It would be far easier to listen if everything he said didn't subliminally tell her he just hadn't wanted her.
"You know why I went there…" he swallowed, comforted by her tiny nod.
Yeah, if she really thought about it, it made sense. The first time he told her about his childhood had been hard enough, but to think of it now, knowing how alone he seemed made it feel so much worse.
"I thought I'd maybe figure out what I would've been if things had gone differently for me…and since I had a buddy there I picked Chicago. At the time it seemed like the right thing to do…I didn't want to be alone,"
Ugh. Was he not thinking before he spoke? Couldn't he hear the words coming out of his mouth? He could've rebuilt himself there, with her, if he'd given her the chance to show him how sure she was. But she'd sound ignorant and selfish if she threw her own feelings in the conversation when he was trying to vent years-worth of issues.
"And it was rough at first. That first year was bad…" he swallowed. "Really bad," he repeated, letting his eyes find hers in the dark. "I didn't want to be found, Elena,"
"I know," she managed. She didn't have it in her to ask why he'd turned her away without even seeing her face. She was sure if they'd just linked eyes back then, if even for a second, things would be far different now. He'd taken that chance from them and there was no fixing it, but people got second chances all the time; she needed to believe this was theirs, somehow.
"I didn't think you'd find me there. When Alaric came in that back room and told me you were out there, just a few feet away from me…shit, I lost it," he admitted. "How did you find me?"
"The newspaper," She said slowly, sniffling from the cold air, remembering how crazy she'd been back then. Desperate to find him, she'd subscribed five major newspapers online, searching the obituaries, searching the war snippets daily for his name. His expression changed at her confession. He knew that article hadn't made it to The New York Times.
"The Chicago Tribune had an feature about you and your shop with Alaric….I knew you were born there so I wasn't surprised to see they'd done a story about a hometown hero come home from war…" She managed. "But you want to know something? I never read past the first two paragraphs…I couldn't make it that far. Not even after you sent me away,"
She hadn't known what happened to him or why he'd come home limping. If her parents or Matt knew, they hadn't said a word. Any mention of his name sent her into panic and they couldn't stand to see her that way.
A part of her knew she hadn't read it because she'd hoped he'd tell her in person; it would be too impersonal to read the words printed on some paper by a reporter who didn't really know the man behind the story. And once he'd rejected her she'd told herself over and over to stop thinking about him. But that hadn't worked, clearly. Now she sounded like she was throwing herself a pity party and he was invited.
"Good," he swallowed. "I didn't want you to find out that way….I didn't want you to find out period..."
"Why wouldn't you want me to know you were home, Damon? I spent months, years waiting…" realizing how self-centered she sounded, she stopped. "All that mattered to me was that you were safe…all the rest of it…we'd have worked through it…"
"I wasn't talking about you knowing I was home. You'd have found out eventually…I just thought it would take a little longer and I might have been more ready if it had. The truth is, my head isn't the only fucked up, Lena. We just walked a few blocks and I know you noticed I'm not the quickest."
"That's okay," she shook her head.
"No, please," he sent her a pleading stare. He wasn't good at admitting he was afraid, but she heard his desperation loud and clear and she wanted to be there for him. "Let me finish before I back out, okay?" She nodded slowly, afraid of the path they were about to tread.
Without another word, he sat down on a bench and lifted up his pant leg by the ankle. The wind was knocked right out of Elena's sails when her eyes fell on a prosthetic foot. And she thought he kept talking, but she couldn't hear herself think over the blood rushing through her ears. Her hand flew over her mouth just before she let out a loud gasp.
Nauseated at the thought of Damon going through this amount of pain, she leaned back against the bench and swallowed through the ache of her throat and looked up at the sky. On the inside, she fought for the strength to move forward. She hadn't even heard the cause of it and was already losing it.
Then it hit her; that piece of him was gone. She'd been treating that very ankle when they'd met. The very first part of him she'd ever touched was gone. The look in his eyes told him he knew it, too. He cleared his throat, hoping to get past the tension in her eyes.
"I don't want to scare you," He warned. "I can't talk about it, so please don't ask. I just needed to get this out of the way..."
"I'm not afraid," her voice was broken, "I'm…I'm…" despite her best effort to stay strong for him, she crumpled. And when the sob caught in her chest, she stood up from the bench and took a few steps forward, praying the fresh, cold air would help straighten out her emotions. She was silently sobbing and not hiding it well; he'd have had to be blind to not see it. When her sobs turned to something worse, he stepped in.
He was numb to a lot of things these days, but the sight of Elena's shaking shoulders in front of him kicked him in the gut. And for the first time in a long time he could identify his feelings; he was angry…but not with her. When he looked down at his foot at night he saw more than physical pain. The memory of how it happened still ate away at him every day. It had been that event that started his downward spiral. Up until that point, he'd still dreamed of seeing Elena when he got home… of falling to his knees before her and wrapping his arms tightly around her waist and never letting go.
But then he'd become a coward with a few too many screws loose.
She felt him come up behind her. The heady scent of his black leather coat attacked her senses and if she hadn't been damn near hysterical, she would've found it sexy. His hands hovered above her shoulders, shaking. After a few seconds of deliberation, they rushed through his thick hair and fell back to his sides. He was afraid to touch her but he had to something.
"Breathe," he whispered just inches from her neck, sending that familiar chill down her spine as it had so many times before. She squeezed her eyes shut and let her tears slide down her cheeks as she listened to him. He might be a broken mess, but he could still calm her.
He'd eased her down from panic attacks before, however minor they had been. Her erratic breathing told him she was close to the point of no return now. Her face fell into her hands and she took a few breaths, telling herself it was going to be okay. He was alive and was walking; it could be so much worse; she could be talking to a headstone.
It was a combination of everything. His raw words about why he'd chosen Chicago on top of the fact that he'd lost a foot had sent her into a tailspin and she couldn't get out of it.
"Take a breath, Lena…you're okay," he said, but had trouble believing his own words. She'd started to have mini-attacks just before he'd been deployed but he'd associated them with grief. As she gasped, wide-eyed now before him, he wondered just how bad they'd gotten when he was away. How many times had she suffered without him there to comfort her?
"My medicine," she whispered. "My purse…my pills, Damon," she turned to him with glassy eyes. Through the black spots dancing before her eyes, she could see his eyes; they were her lighthouse. His eyebrows knit together in confusion and he reached behind them to grab her purse off the bench, realizing they'd left it unattended and thankful it hadn't been stolen. He'd been so busy worrying about his own issues that he hadn't thought of what life had done to Elena in his absence.
"Uh…" he frowned. "I don't want to dig around in here…" he said, but when she gave him a pleading nod, he located the bottle and handed it to her. "Here…" he pulled a half-drunk bottle of water from his pocket and unscrewed the cap.
As the pill slid down her throat she sniffled, realizing she'd just fallen to pieces in front of him. She'd blown it; he'd never tell her anything again if she'd react like this with every new piece of information. What the hell kind of volunteer was she?
She let out a breath and waited for the medicine to kick in. More than anything in the world, she needed to be held. Time hadn't erased the way he'd held her in his arms and rubbed her back in circles until her breathing got back to normal. He recognized the scared look in her eyes and it terrified him. He wasn't capable of fixing her now. He couldn't even fix himself.
He stood still in place, hands at his sides and let her walk against him. She pressed her forehead into his the hollow of his neck and breathed in the smell of his skin. She remembered everything she missed about them…especially how just the feel of him against her soothed her. She'd been missing that feeling for far too long; as hard as he tried, Matt couldn't calm her down. A sick feeling of guilt washed over her, but she stayed in place, waiting for his arms to wrap around her back. His hands never came; he stood motionless, as if afraid to do or say the wrong thing. And she stayed there for a few minutes until she felt the calm wash over her.
"I'm sorry. I didn't want to make this night about me," she sniffed.
"You're fine, but that's enough for tonight," he said, breaking his fifteen minutes of silence. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking when I just showed you like that. I should've started with something smaller. I don't know how to do this. I don't want to do this…."
And for a moment, the lover in her emerged, forgetting his mistakes and only hearing and feeling his sorrows. "We have to," she smiled sadly and he caught the shine in her brown eyes. "Look at us, Damon. We have to…" she nodded. "Whatever happens, we can't go on like this…"
"I'm an asshole," he managed. "But you've always known that,"
She shook her head and looked down again, staring at his booted foot. If it hurt this badly knowing bits and pieces of his history, she couldn't imagine having lived it.
"Come on, don't cry," he pled. "I thought I was ready. I thought I'd be easier for me to talk to you than some stranger… If you want me to talk to someone else, I can. If this is too much…" He could remember a time when she'd barely cracked a smile. Now her emotions ran with abandon and he wasn't sure how to respond.
She was a physical therapist; it wasn't as if she'd never seen a mechanically engineered foot before. But seeing it on him gave her sickening images of his beautiful skin blown into thousands of tiny little pieces. She wasn't devastated because he wasn't whole anymore. She ached that he'd been alone through it all, up until now.
"No," the word flew from her lips. "I want it to be to be me," she assured him. And she didn't dare tell him she was afraid; although he seemed like half the man he used to be, she was sure he'd be quick to pull the plug on his story again if he saw she was upset. She feared he'd see himself as a burden and that was very untrue. He had no idea how very much she wished he'd have laid it all out for her years ago. Now, here he was, still buried in nightmares and alone, begging without words for her to forgive him.
"I thought I was ready," he tried again, catching the shine in her eyes again. "But this isn't something I can blurt out all at once. It might take a while…weeks…months…years…" he swallowed. "I might never get it all out. It's not right of me to ask you to be there for me through it…not after what I did to you back in Chicago. I wanted to let you go, Elena," he said honestly. "I wanted you to forget me…find a life with someone who could take care of you and be what you needed…"
She was hit with a tidal wave of guilt that she hadn't mentioned Matt. They hadn't talked much about her life and it hadn't really come up, but he was talking long-term here, even if only as friends. "I need to tell you something," she frowned. There was no way to sugar-coat it and she wasn't sure it would've mattered anyway. Damon was there, seeking something with her, but he was distant and it was very unclear what his intentions were. Honesty was the way to go.
"I'm with Matt," she blurted, cursing herself for the sour taste her confession left in her mouth. "I mean, we're together." His eyes narrowed for a second and she swore she saw life moving in his usually vacant stare. "I just thought you should know…" she swallowed.
She didn't have the heart to go into just how much she doubted her relationship. That was too heavy and far too deep for them at that point. They could barely get through a normal sentence without someone wincing. However lackluster her relationship with Matt was, it existed and Damon deserved to know that.
"Okay," she thought she heard him say, lowering himself back on the bench.
"I'm not sure it matters to you, but I just don't want to lie…"
"Matt Donovan," he said with a small, defeated smile. "I'd never have guessed,"
The image of the men shaking hands with narrowed eyes flashed into her memory. They'd repeat that moment soon enough if Damon wanted to be in her life. But this time she'd be on the other man's arm. She couldn't tell if that would bother him or not.
"Me either," she admitted, but bit her tongue before she could go any further. Of course she hadn't pictured it; she thought she'd be with Damon forever. "But that doesn't mean I'm not here for you," she pulled her hands out of her pockets and rest them gently on her lap on the bench, looking into his eyes. "No matter how long it takes…no matter how hard it is…"
"But your anxiety," he frowned. "It's gotten worse,"
Take a pill, Gilbert… the words of their second encounter echoed in his memory. The whole night did. And it hadn't been that way back then, but if he could go back and change the way that night had gone, he would.
"I'm not worried about me," she shook her head now. "I don't worry about me…"
"Well you should," he raked his hand through the back of his hair. She worked with veterans all the time, listening to them talk about war or pain or nothing at all. "How bad is it?"
She hadn't really thought about it; she buried herself in her work and allowed herself little time to dwell on her own state of mind. Overall, she was good. She didn't have an attack every day anymore. Matt was so normal it was sickening. He had a way of making her feel crazy anytime she took a pill, so she often had to hold it together until she could excuse herself to take her medicine in private.
"How do you sit through those guys' stories, Elena?" He frowned. He hadn't shown much emotion since he'd come back but he sounded genuinely concerned about her. "Doesn't it get to you? It would get to me,"
"I'm fine there," she said softly. "It's…therapeutic. I've been listening for years…since I left the military. It's the way I stay connected. I couldn't help you when you were gone, Damon…I had to help someone…"
"I guess you'll always be angry with me for turning you away," he said seriously. "But you're here with me now. So what happens when this all sinks in and you remember what I did?"
"I'll always be hurt, Damon," she corrected. "I get that you were going through some things that I'll probably never fully understand, but I can't wrap my head around you pushing me away without seeing me," she paused for a moment. "But let's not get into that right now. We just started talking and I just calmed down. I don't want to throw that elephant back in the room,"
"It will always be in the room," he reminded her. "Just like it always has. Look, maybe I went about things the wrong way when you came to find me, but I can honestly say I didn't want you to see me like that. Someday maybe I'll be able to explain it better, but this is all I can do and I hope it's enough for you to forgive me. It had nothing to do with me not caring about you. What happened just now proves I was right to be cautious…"
"Please don't say you were thinking of me when you turned me away," she begged.
Elena sniffled in the cold air and touched her nose with her glove. And he surprised her by placing his hand on her knee when she met his stare again.
"I broke a promise," he finally said. "And no matter what kind of shape I was in, I should've told you myself. I wasn't ready to talk back then, or to feel the way I thought I would when I came home. Being here with you is…hard,"
She frowned at his words but tried to remember that he'd just told her she wasn't the cause of his agony. "I've always been a loner, Elena. I guess I lucked out that I didn't have a bunch of people waiting for me to get off that plane and run into their arms."
"You had one. I waited for you every day…" she reminded him and she felt his hand stiffen and pull away from her knee. Her heart ached when she realized she'd gone too far. "I'm sorry…"
"Don't be," he breathed, leaning back against the bench. "I could barely look at myself in the mirror let alone let you see me. It was selfish," he said. "And I sound like a pathetic fool now,"
"No," she whispered. "You sound like a man who has had to deal with too much for too long with no outlet. And you're a little more serious and a lot less cocky than you used to be, but I still see you," the wind picked up and let her hair out into the breeze. "And I'll be here when you need me. I promise,"
He didn't dare ask where Matt fit into the equation.
"Thank you," he breathed, standing up from the bench and waiting for her to join him. "Sorry this didn't turn out the way you probably thought it would," he gave her an apologetic smile. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"It'll get easier,"
"I don't think so," he said seriously. "I've been home for two a half years and it hasn't yet. Maybe I was better off sucking it up and dealing on my own. Now I've gotten you all worked up and it's getting us nowhere," he swallowed. "I feel worse than I did before."
"It has to get worse before it can get better," she said softly, stretching her hand toward his. His expression lightened at the familiar words. He knew them well; he'd used them on her just before he'd left for Iraq. "You're done with the really bad parts. You're home," she smiled, though inside she was bawling. They were too far apart and it hurt.
He searched her eyes for a minute, wishing so badly he could be what she wanted. He glanced down at the gloved hand stretched toward him, waiting and took a step forward, slipping his fingers between hers loosely. The warmth of her hand tugged at his broken heart; a lot of things had gone wrong in his life, but everything about being with Elena still felt right.
It would be a slow burn this time, with a lot of heartache and a lot of anger, but if he was going to get through it, it would be with her…for her. Every decision he'd made overseas had been for her, for them, including the one that had saved his life. He was no survivor; he was a coward.
And just when his thoughts were getting too heavy, the subject changed. She took a deep breath as they stopped at a traffic light, staring off at a food cart on the other side of the street. "So…you still like pizza?"
"You know I do," he sighed, relieved. He'd imagined her tolerating him at best; but she was holding his hand, fighting through tears to get them over their awkwardness to somewhere close to familiar. "Missed my New York thin crust,"
And just as she was about to suggest they grab a slice, she felt the buzzing of her phone in her purse. Refusing to let go of his hand she searched through the compartments with her free hand until she found it. He saw her cringe when she read the screen and held it up for him to see a big MATTwith a picture of him smiling at her.
"I have to take this," she apologized, and he dropped her hand. She plugged her ear with one finger and held the other phone in her other hand as they crossed the street.
"No…I'm heading home now," she said seriously. "What? I thought we were taking the night off…" Damon felt the familiar surge of something eating at his stomach but refused to define it. "Yeah I ended up taking a walk…I'm walking back to my car…I guess I'll see you in a few minutes, then…"
He couldn't help but notice she'd made a lot of excuses and hadn't smiled once during their conversation. She wasn't exactly lying; she was just choosing to leave Damon out of it for now. It wasn't like anything was happening between them to be concerned about. But Damon wasn't going anywhere, he said, and neither was she. He may end up being a different part of her life than she'd once imagined, but she was willing to take any part of him he'd give her. And if he still loved her, well…
"Rain check on the pizza," she breathed. "I need to get home."
"You haven't told him you've seen me, have you?" He frowned. "He has no idea I'm back,"
"No," she confirmed. "I'm going to…" she promised. "When the time is right,"
"You're lying to him then," he stated. "For me,"
She opened her mouth to say something but couldn't find the words. He was right.
"Why?" He asked straight-faced, as if he had absolutely no idea why she'd bother.
"You know why," she said softly and waited for his answer but it never came. Instead he tucked his hands back into his pockets as they walked slowly back to her car without saying another word.
"Come on," she said finally, tipping her head toward her car.
"Go ahead," he gestured toward her car. "I think I'm going to stop for some coffee on my way home. Not tired," he winced in the cold air. She nodded and slid into her car and he walked around to her door.
"Lena…" he said quickly, grabbing her door before she closed it. "Don't ruin your relationship for me," he warned. "It's not worth it. I'm not worth it…"
"I'm a big girl, Damon. I can handle myself," she caught a small smile playing on his lips and felt a rush of relief. It seemed all the bad he'd seen in the world hadn't completely erased his memory of what they'd shared in their short relationship. When it had been good, it had been blissful. There was no denying what flowed between them; it was chemistry, and it was still there, waiting.
He watched her write her phone number down on a piece of paper and hand it to him. "Keep this…and call me," she said, staring into his eyes. "I don't care what time and I don't care for how long,"
"Elena…" he held his hands up, indicating he didn't want to cause trouble.
"Just shut up and take it, okay?" She felt tears filling her eyes at the chance of rejection. She was a mess. She needed her bed, by herself, and a pint of ice cream or two to think about what the hell she was going to do. And here she'd thought deciding to not rejoin the military had been the hardest choice she'd ever made!
He hesitated for just a second longer before taking the paper slowly and tucking it into his front pocket. "I'm sorry for this…" he said, but he wasn't sure what he was apologizing for and neither was she.
She smiled lightly as he closed the door and she drove off. Damon kicked a clump of dirty snow with his good foot and watched her drive away. He'd come home to reinvent the Damon Salvatore everyone thought they knew, but being with Elena drew him back to a time he used to love himself. And he'd loved her…probably still did…
Because every single night he closed his eyes in Iraq he dreamt of Elena and the life they'd have. She'd never come out and said it, but he always believed she'd loved him, too. They'd survived hell to be together and for what? Him to send her into anxiety attacks on a cold busy street? Jesus, what the hell was he even doing? He was stupid if he thought he could live the rest of her life away from her. The way he loved her back then was the only part of himself he still liked.
Why else would he come back after all these years? He'd thought home was anywhere in America, that he'd be fine on his own. But his heart told him he was a liar. He'd felt more at home on that military base than he had in his own house. Home was with Elena, wherever she was. For her sake he wished it wasn't that way.
He was a selfish fool. He couldn't handle the thought of her driving home, losing her clothes and crawling into bed with another man…even if that man was clean and safe and far better than Damon could ever be.
Yeah, he knew how his night would go. He'd spend the rest of his night hobbling around in the cold, willing himself not to fall off the wagon and buy a forty of beer and drink until he forgot the way her skin felt against his. Then he'd fall into his daily routine. He'd force himself to take a shower and try to look in the mirror and see someone new…someone sane…someone free.
A/N: Thanks for reading!