A / N : Semi – fluff to the rescue ~ !
When I hung up, I was left feeling like I'd been abandoned on some shore to be washed away slowly with the tide.
It had been Andrew on the phone. He was our resident medic, and used to be a hot shot doctor before Alaric had a go at him. He'd recently completed therapy off the books so I'd allow him to jump back into the hospital scene. To be honest, counterintuitive as it may seem, I felt that putting others' lives back into his hands was the best way to anchor him in our new reality. And it had worked for the past three months.
Until today, when he experienced his second 'first' death of a patient.
There was absolutely nothing he could do, but of course that in turn did absolutely nothing to alleviate him of any of the pain and guilt.
I wandered around town, finding a deserted place in a park to settle down for a few hours while we talked. Most of it was listening, consoling, and wishing to every stationary star in the sky that I could be with him instead of being a thin voice over distant cell signals. When he finally calmed down and hung up, he sounded positively ancient. Weary and worn through. I told him to sleep, and told Cedric to have Lavi stand by for the next few nights.
Now that I was off the phone, I was no longer still. Instead, I tried to wander off the chaotic energy gnawing at my insides worse than Kali's claws and fangs ever could.
Eventually the sky darkened to the point of my mood, and I began the short trek back to Scott's. I was passing a storefront when a prick traveled up my spine. I slowed my pace, turned around. All I caught was myself in the glass. And then suddenly out of the corner of my peripherals I gleaned another figure. Its face was gnarled, marks engraved across it in a decidedly wicked fashion. There was an abrupt sensation of choking on water, but by the time I spun around, nothing was there. I looked back at the glass then, but it was empty except for my stark face and pale fingertips grasping my throat.
I was tensed to fight the whole way back.
When I finally got to Scott's house, there was a moment where I hovered at the door, not sure whether to knock or not. Then I shook my head and walked in like it was the most natural thing for me to be doing.
"Honeys, I'm home." I called sweetly as I walked into the living room.
"We're in the kitchen." Scott called back.
Isaac was leaning on the counter while Scott made macaroni and cheese on the stove. Something about the scene did twisty things to my stomach. It was just…homey.
"You've been out for awhile." Scott noted.
"Is everything okay?" Isaac asked.
That was always the question, though, wasn't it? The one question the universe would spiral into oblivion if I didn't answer correctly. And I always had to make sure I could answer 'yes'.
I ran a hand through my hair, and did a bouncy little sidestep, shifting my weight and avoiding eye contact. Keep it together. I was a little overwhelmed between Show and Tell, Andrew, and what I presumed to be my first glimpse of…well.
"Yeah, yeah. Just a little trouble in paradise back home." I smiled.
Isaac tilted his head, lips turned down as he appraised me, and the final result was the most disillusioned, unhappy look of concern I'd received in a very long while. Like he could see right through my front but decided to let me keep it. I wondered how often he had lied in the past to be able to get such good vision.
"Can't get a break, can you?" He asked.
"We should all co-author the memoir." I replied offhandedly.
"I'm not sure it'd be a bestseller. Maybe a good Hallmark movie." Scott said as he flipped the stove off. "You guys can eat whenever you want."
It was apparent the guys were really waiting for me to go first, which caused another unneeded layer of feelings. We all ate in the kitchen, swapping stories about past shenanigans. The atmosphere was so warm and bright, and so directed away from everything cold and dark going on in Beacon Hills and living in my past. It reinforced my decision to keep my paranormal encounter to myself.
The world only ever needed one Atlas at a time, after all.
While I rinsed out my bowl, Scott gave me the rundown on my temporary living arrangements.
"My mom said that you can go ahead and use her shower, since it's the only bathroom with girly shampoo. She set aside a towel for you already."
"That's sweet."
"And your bed's set up in the room across from mine."
I flipped the bowl over a dish rag so it could dry. "Isn't that Isaac's room?"
"It's yours, for however long you're here." Isaac said.
"This is your home, Isaac. I'll take the couch."
"And injure my pride by rejecting the heartfelt sacrifices I make in the name of hospitality?" He said.
"I'll show you the 'hospital' in 'hospitality' if you don't stop being so dramatic." I replied good-naturedly. "Keep your room. The living room 's more convenient, anyways, in case I have to come and go unexpectedly."
"And you think that's likely?"
"Sweetheart." I said, shaking my head. "My life is nothing if not coming and going unexpectedly." I turned and walked down the hall. I called back.
"I am, however, taking all the good sheets."
That night, I sat awake draped along the couch, thinking about all the ways this little escapade could turn out.
I closed my eyes against the ghost sensation of drowning, and wished that if any of my hopes actually counted, this would all end in a room full of stories and bowls of macaroni and cheese.