Stefan.
I close my eyes for a bit, tapping my foot against the seat behind me. This plane ride was too long and I was starting to get anxious.
I sigh deeply and grab the pen from the seat behind me and try to do this crossword puzzle.
My eyes focus on the black and white and suddenly I see them begin to blur. Great, I didnt need to have a terrifying episode right now. The goal was to convince Damon I was fine. I hold my breath like Damon used to do with me before it got this bad but I fail miserable as the pain sets in my chest.
I couldn't help it pain was the only thing getting me through this.
I hold my head, flashes of blood fill my brain. Blood of the soldiers, my blood on my pillow when I woke up from biting my lip so hard in the nightmares. I could now identify blood as that which is messed up.
The visions slowy fade, suprisingly . My head pounds, as I unhold it. I reach into my back pocket and pull out the little flask that usually helps me in such emergencies. I swallow the brandy, staring back at the crossword puzzle. When they told me I was being discharged. I laughed in their faces
When they told me I would be getting discharged. I laughed in their faces. I must have been really fucked up to send me back. They claimed it was because they had enough medics now but I knew they way they looked at me, their lips curled in disgust towards my state. I crossed my arms over my chest as they handed me the pen and paper to write a letter to Damon. I refused at first I didn't want to go home. I didn't want to see the look on my brother's face when he saw me stumble of the plane, pity in his eyes at this monster I have become, numb to everything.
I swallow a few more sips of brandy, my hands twitch in my lap. I stare down at my knuckles, their swollen from punching the wall in the bathroom, I made a pretty good dent there, too.
I rub them on my jacket, shivering a little. I could feel my bones under the thin material of my t-shirt but it didn't bother me anymore. I tuck the flask back in my pocket, adjusting my seat.
I couldnt wait to get off the plane so I would never see these assholes again. I couldn't believe I risked my life for such a corrupt system. I shake my head lightly, leaning it against the seat. I close my eyes, gripping the arm rests between me.
This is how the nightmares start.
I feel my head break out into a sweat as I watch the people I save die in their hopsital bed over and over again, their blue lips, screaming my name. Their bony hands clutching onto my arm, leaving marks. Their pale faces marked with anger, their voices laced with anger and they call me a liar. I move my head to the side, wincing at the pain.
I wince in pain, as I slowly wake up, seeing I dug into my arm in my rough sleep.
"Dammit." I curse, watching the blood ooze from my stomach, I lift it up and see a stitch got out of my wound. I touch it lightly and the thought of just ripping it out, and bleeding to death flickers in my mind but I shake my head of these thoughts.
"Now Damon is going to see and get worried." I mumble, closing my eyes, let's see there is a medical box in the bathroom on the plane, prehaps I can take it and stitch myself up. I stand up and feel lightheaded as I grab onto the seat behind me.
Wow I must have had too much to drink, though I havent eaten so that's probably it. My stomach growls at my recent choices and I ignore it, heading to the bathroom.
I get to the bathroom, slowly opening the door. It's so small that I have to duck to get in all the way.
I groan and bang my head on the side of the door, looking for that damn med box. When I see it green and sticking out under the cabinet I grab it and start to get up but I stumble, groaning at part of the stitch, hits my stomach.
I put my hand over it, closing my eyes. It couldn't be that bad. It was barely bleeding when I checked on it before.
I sigh deep and head back to my seat, slowly lifting my shirt up. I see a trail of red going down to my black pants.
"Well that can't be good." I say outloud.
A tiny bit of panic rushes through me as I grab some napkins, trying to clot all the blood. When it doesn't work I give up and just pray we land soon. My hands snap up at a ding and I see the fasten seatbelt sign as turned off. I look down and remember mine was already off.
I grab the medical box, opening it seeing all the essential itiems for an emergency like this. I grab the needle, my hands shake.
"Hey, can one of you assholes help me?" I yell, watching as one soldier wakes up, his eyes widen in horror at the sight of me.
"What did you do?" He asks me, going over to me.
"I was going to do it myself but I'd mess it up." I say with a little shrug and he looks freaked out that I'm acting so calm.
I stare at the wound, as he applys pressure.
"Alright once this stops bleeding we can stich it." He says, keeping the now soaked red napkins on my lower abdomen.
"Later is not going to work. I need it now." I grit my teeth as he checks the stichching "As soon as it stops bleeding." He assures me but I shake my head, unsatisfied with this answer.
"You'll do it now and I won't beat the shit out of you, how's that sound?" I ask in a gruff voice and he sighs.
"You're a stubborn ass, Salvatore." He says, shaking his hand as he wipes the remaing blood, it finally clots because I see his face light up in relief.
I give him a cheeky smile at his previous comment.
"So I'm told." I mumble and then groan as he starts re stitching the rest. There's still tiny drops of blood but I wipe them with my dirty finger, mareveling at the blood.
He's done in two seconds and I watch as he stands up, grabbing more gauze from the medical box.
He wraps it around and tightens it by tieing it.
I grit my teeth as the gauze interferes with my stiching making it hurt for a second.
I yank my shirt down and thank him gruffly. He nods, though his eyes show concern, but I'm too tired to care. I feel a bump go and I know we have landed.
I run a hand through my greasy hair, seeing the blood that soaked through my shirt.
I grumble and pull my jacket over it, zipping it up.
The rest of the soldiers stand up but I stay seated, not even remotely excited to see Damon.
You have to fake this. I remind myself. So I stand up and put on our trademark Salvatore smile and prepare for the biggest biggest play of my life. Reassuring my brother, who probably has thought and cried over me for the last six month that I am fine.
I get off the plane and hug myself in my jacket, I feel the fresh blood wet against my body and cringe a litle bit. I throw on my beret and fake a huge smile. I walk the little path from the plane to the ground.
The flight attendant leads me to back to the building and I open the door, cringing as I feel a tightness in my stomach. These fucking stitches we're going to drive me insane. I ignore the feeling and re adjust my black duffel bag, walking in the building. The first thing I see is a bunch of people awaiting their loved ones, huge signs saying "Welcome home." "We Love You." I scoff at them for being ignorant. and walk past them, my eyes scanning the room for Damon's dark hair and blue eyes amoung the crowd.
"STEFAN!" A voice says, just as I'm about to be dissapointed. I look up and see my brother's face, fresh with tears, he's wearing black pants and white v-neck, his eyes tired, but full of glee. He races to me as I stand still, over come with a lost emotion: love. He hugs me tight, crying softly in my shoulder. My hands don't know what to do for a second but then I slowly feel my brain reminding me that I love him, he's my brother, and it's not his fault I'm almost beyond repair. I lift my arms up and wrap him around him, hugging him tight. My body shudders from this unwanted feeling. Love and sadness race back to me, the emotions I tried so hard to block out the past six months. I feel tears stream down my cheeks as I hold him tight, afraid to let go, afraid if I do even for a second he'd be
I sink myself in his warm embrace, crying softly.
I groan low, making sure he doesn't hear it. The stitches hurt against his powerful hug, he pulls away and looks at me.
His face full of light, his eyes full of love. He smiles at me wide, punching me lightly. I smile a little, looking at him. There are dark circles under his eyes, too. Probably losing sleep over me, I feel the guilt set in.
I almost don't know how to react at him standing in front of me. So I just fake the smile I practiced in the mirror the whole ride over.
"Come on, let's get home." He says, as he picks up my duffel bag.
I nod, walking with him, my stomach still gurgling to feed it. I feel the fresh blood dripping down my stomach. If I saw that guy that stitched me on the plane right now I'd punch his face in.
I stagger back a little, praying I don't pass out right now from the blood loss.
I groan low, trying to keep up with Damon's pace. He turns around a little, watching me, noticing my posture.
"Hey, are you okay?" He asks, his voice laced with worry as his eye brows furrow in concern.
I nod, lamely, trying not to hold my stomach in pain.
"Stefan?" He asks again, walking over to me.
I grit my teeth, closing my mouth. I just nod, not wanting him to see the pain I'm in. I don't deserve such concern. I'm the one who chose to stay, he shouldn't have to pay for the repruccusions.
I feel light headed, as my forehead breaks out in a sweat.
He gently lays his hand over my forehead, a look of more then concern on his face.
"Stefan, what's wrong are you sick?" He asks me, pulling me over to the side.
I shake my head no.
"No, it's okay Damon I can keep going." I say as I start to move but he grabs my shoulder again, making my stomach hurt from the stitches. I hiss at the pain.
"No' you're not okay." His voice turned from worry to anger. He grabs the zipper on my jacket, tugging it down.
I'm about to protest but I lean my head against the cool wall, unable to form a sentence. Which was frustrating me. Usually I could talk my way out of things, but not this time.
DAMON
I tug off his jacket, rage disappears to fear as I see he's bleeding through his white shirt. I widen my eyes in horror.
"What did you do?" I whisper as I look up to see him leaning against the cool part of the wall. His eyes closed, his face in pain.
"Stefan, what did you do?" I ask, lifting up his shirt, gently.
I feel my breath catch in my throat as I look at his stitches, open, his wound bleeding down his chest.
"Oh..my..god." I whisper, panicing.
"Damon..please." He whispers.
"No, just stop." I say, my voice raising.
"We have to get you to the hospital." I say, gently grabbing his arm and hositing half his body weight, over my shoulder.
I half carry him and his duffel bag out of the airport.
How could he just lie to me like that? Oh God was I losing my brother? The thought brings tears to my eyes again, as I get to my truck, I open the passenger door, laying him on the seat, I put on his seatbelt my hands shaking as I close the door. More tears flood down my cheeks at his condition. It's all my fault. Thw guilt rises in me as I get into the drivers side, starting my car. I reach over for Stefan's hand, like I did the night I got shot, and I could barely see anything but somehow my brother's hand brought comfort. I hope mine was doing the same. I look at him, his eyes still closed, forehead sweating against the seat.
"Hold on, Stefan. You're not leaving me." I whisper, as I drive out of the air port parking lot.
We get to the hospital and I watch as they drag Stefan's thin body into a stretcher, my hand sweaty as I let go of his hand.
"Please be safe." I whisper to myself, wiping away tears as I watch them wheel him away. I sit on the hospital bench, folding my hands in my lap, I lean my head down, angry at myself. Why would God do this to me? I was already going through enough pain. But honestly, what did I expect? I knew Stefan was going through a hard time when he was right in front of me. I bang my hands against my lap, hitting myself for such stupidity.
(A/N: Yay Stefan is back, but what's gonna happen to him? please review and rate, it would mean a lot to me! this is one of my favorite stories I have ever written)
