Twenty-one.

Violet was twenty-one years old today. It still seemed like she was living in a dream when she woke up, mind hazy as she registered the time on the alarm clock atop the nightstand. Six a.m.. The exact moment she'd been reborn into this world twenty-one years ago, a screaming babe ignorant to what she'd once been.

It had been almost two weeks since she had talked to Wyatt in the garden that day. Evangeline still wasn't back from Chicago yet, and the silence in the house had become far too common a companion. She had yet to discuss with Logan what had happened between them nearly three weeks ago. It was like a game of avoidance, who could make an excuse to leave the room first.

Even if Wyatt had helped her realize her feelings for Logan were true, that didn't make things any better. There was still the fact she missed Danny more than anything. The fact that there was war brewing on the horizon, a promise of blood and havoc. Love wasn't enough to cure those kinds of issues. Everyone walked around thinking love would make their lives inadvertently better, but Violet knew it wouldn't. If things were that simple, there would be no war, no famine, no pain.

Once she'd had the same disillusion as most– that if she found that one person that made her feel whole again, everything would be alright. But life didn't work like that. It wasn't another person that completed you, you had to complete yourself. And how could she accomplish such a task when she didn't even know who 'herself' was? The question made her want to rip out fistfuls of hair and throw things and break glass, but she kept her mouth shut and disguised the anger and the sadness with sleep.

Above all, the only thought that came to mind was a completely selfish one in that she felt none of this was fair. At twenty-one you weren't supposed to have your life figured out. You were supposed to be making mistakes with scraped knees, picking yourself up and using bandages and alcohol and not enough sleep to fix the damage. Instead here she was, pseudo parent of an abandoned little brother and a broken girl meant to be Goddess and help save the world when she could barely hold her own self up without shaking.

How could love fix that?

And how could it erase the fact that Logan had lied to her? No matter if her feelings were her own, spurred by loss or ache or pure want, it didn't change the fact he hadn't told her the truth. She'd learned from a young age honesty was something she was to hold close. The one thing no one could steal from you no matter how hard they tried was your ability to tell the truth. Even Apollo hadn't been able to take that from Cassandra, regardless that he'd made it so those around her wouldn't believe her words.

Sighing, Violet moved to the edge of the bed and stretched her limbs. Marea whined from her spot next to where Violet had been laying, perking up with a jingle of her collar. The symbol on her tag flashed in the light of dawn and Violet bit her lip, looked away.

More than anything, she didn't want to talk to Logan because she was embarrassed. The last few times she'd talked to him she'd been whiny and petulant and completely not herself. She'd used him to numb her own feelings, and that wasn't right. Even if he had lied to her, that didn't make him a toy for her to work her frustrations out on. People weren't made for you to use and throw away when finished with. The Gods may have done that, but not her.

So maybe if it was just best she left him alone, kept the space between them until all of this was over. There were other things to focus on after all.

She took her time in getting ready for the day, no hurry to brush her teeth, wash her face and stumble down to have breakfast with Wyatt before he left for school. Her morning meals with Logan had ceased after they'd come home from the gala, and while she strangely missed them, she just reiterated to herself that it was for the best. Love didn't fix anything.

"Morning, birthday girl," said Wyatt when she finally made her way into the kitchen, Marea scampering to the back doors and pawing to be let out.

"Morning," Violet said to him softly, answering the dog's request and letting her go. Marea raced off instantly, barking after some birds on the lawn. Violet turned back to Wyatt, eyeing his bowl of cereal and glass of orange juice skeptically. "Chad not up yet?"

With Evangeline gone, Chad had taken to fixing breakfast most days. He couldn't cook as well as Evangeline, but he gave it a good shot. Except he always burned Thaddeus' stuff. The two had had animosity since the gala and Violet was too tired to ask what was going on, even if the bickering between the two of them had gotten kind of annoying lately.

"No, not yet," Wyatt shrugged, adding spoonfuls of sugar to his Rice Crispies. Violet smiled softly, the trait reminding her of Danny. Danny, who'd always made her pancakes on her birthday, regardless if the date fell on a Sunday or not. Today was a Tuesday and he would've gotten up extra early just to make sure breakfast was ready before she awoke. "Can I offer you a gourmet birthday breakfast of cereal, though?"

"I'm good," Violet laughed, taking the seat next to Wyatt and curling her legs up beneath her. She'd worn shorts to bed last night, the fresh cuts on her legs peeking out from the hem. A bit frantically, she covered the wounds before Wyatt could see. "Have anything planned after school tonight?"

"Naw," said Wyatt, waving a hand nonchalantly. He'd been hanging out a lot lately with a new group of friends that Christa had introduced him to. Violet was convinced Wyatt and that girl were dating, but Wyatt had denied her queries, even though he constantly texted Christa when they weren't hanging out in person. "I wanted to be free for your birthday."

"Good," Violet said, bit her lip and glanced across the room. "I was thinking we could go into town…"

There was silence for a moment before Wyatt said, "Really?" as if he couldn't believe her words.

"Yeah," she nodded, twisting her fingers together in habit. "I mean, I've never left this house except when we went to Chicago. Obviously I'm not going to run anymore, so why shouldn't we go out? I was thinking we'd get Chad to go, and Thaddeus too if they promise not to fight. And Myrtle, since she's feeling better." The old woman had recuperated just fine, Chad having taken her stitches out with only a few whacks to the head for Myrtle's amusement. She was still shaky with walking after nearly three weeks bed rest, but Marea let her hold onto her scruff and led Myrtle around the house patiently. "And, I mean, if he wants, Logan can come to…"

"I think he'd want to," Wyatt said, looking down at the table before meeting her in the eye again. "There's uh– go check the fridge real quick."

Violet raised a brow quizzically, about ready to ask Wyatt why, but he just waved for her to do so insistently. With a blink, she stood from her chair and walked to the fridge as instructed, shocked to find an envelope taped up there with her name on it. Slowly, she brought it back with her to the table just as Marea came inside, lapping thirstily from her water bowl as her tail wagged.

"Who's this from?" Violet asked Wyatt after a moment of silence, holding the envelope up to the light for inspection.

"It's got Uncle L.'s handwriting on it, so I'm guessing him. Why don't you open it?" Wyatt murmured around a spoonful of cereal.

He gave her an encouraging smile then and she nodded, the envelope tucked in on itself instead of sealed as she pried the tab loose. Inside was a simple card. The front was a simple cardstock white, with a rose sketched on it shakily by hand. Tilting her head curiously, Violet opened the card up to find a note written inside, script same as her name on the envelope. It was scratchy and sharp and the more she stared at it the more she realized it was Logan's handwriting.

Violet,

I am sorry to have caused you so much trouble in the time since we have met. You must know, it was never my intention to enact you harm. I took you for selfish reasons and lied to you for selfish reasons in the same breath. Though each time, those selfish reasons were entirely different in motive.

At first I had myself convinced that the only cause I wished to know you for was to use you. I am not proud of this. I can only explain by saying there is still a hatred in me for my father that I cannot put into words, and I thought with your alliance I could end him once and for all. I know now that I need you for entirely different reasons. While I am not Hades and you are not Persephone, I remember how he felt for her: she was his light.

And you are mine.

I cannot apologize enough for what I have put you through. Had I left you alone, everything would be as it should. You never asked for a part in this, and I never asked if it was what you wanted. Again, I made the mistake of never hearing your opinions. Yet I cannot say I would go back and change things if I could. That would mean denying myself of you, and I am uncertain if I could accomplish such a task.

Know my feelings for you that night in Chicago were entirely true, as they still are. I do not want to hurt you. That was never my intention.

My only hope is that for at least today you can find some respite from all of this madness that you have been thrown into the middle of. On the back of the card is an address for you to go to. I have left a map in the car in the garage, the one with the keys in the ignition. Everything else you need for the trip is in the console.

I made the mistake many lives ago of not trusting you, when it was always myself I didn't trust. Now I know better. You may stay at the address the whole day and night; I've already alerted Thaddeus to your departure, and he'll call to check in on you once you arrive. You'll be safe there, I promise.

Happy birthday,

Logan.

With a hiccup, she blinked away the bite of tears. Her eyes ran over the words in the card again and again, until finally Wyatt cleared his throat and she glanced to him with trembling lip and hand. "What does it say?" Wyatt asked, trying to lean over to read the words.

Violet clutched the card to her chest protectively, shaking her head. "He– he set me up somewhere to go, for my birthday… I don't know where but, um–" She paused a moment to turn the card over, finding an address on the back. "It's just got an address."

"Where?" Wyatt asked. "Can I come?"

"I think I'm supposed to go by myself," Violet said, blushing. "You'd have to miss school to go, and considering you're still on academic probation according to everyone else in the house, that wouldn't fly very well."

"Is it safe to go by yourself?" Wyatt asked skeptically. Everyone in the house was still on red alert after Selene and Helios' attack. Thaddeus continued to have Violet train daily, and while she had not made much progress in way of her divinity, her powers were starting to slowly come back, if only to make plants bloom. Logan called Evangeline every three days to make sure the wards around the house would at least alert to new presence on the property if not keeping them out.

"Logan said it would be," Violet answered Wyatt, Marea coming to lie between the two of them then. "Can you…can you watch her? While I'm gone, I mean. It'll just be for the night. I'd imagine I'll be home before you come back from school tomorrow."

"Uh, sure," Wyatt said, a bit of bewilderment coloring his tone. "So no birthday shenanigans for us, then?"

"I'm sorry, Wyatt," she grimaced. "I just…"

"No, it's totally cool," Wyatt said, waving her off with a goofy smile. "I mean, you need to get out of this house for a while, Vi. You're suffocating in here. It's probably a good thing ya get to adventure it alone, too. Ya need some time away from all of us."

"Not you," she said, tone lax. "You're my best friend." Because, next to Albany, he was.

"I know," Wyatt chuckled. "But like I said, ya need to get out of here before it kills you. You're like a bird in a cage, Vi. Every once in a while, you need to fly."

"Yeah?" Violet said, then really took his words in and nodded. "Yeah. I think you're right."

It turned out to be that the address was a bed and breakfast on the Connecticut coast.

Violet arrived more than shocked, the hour long car-ride having been spent thinking she was going…well, she hadn't really known. The map she'd found in the car's console had been vague, with simple routes traced in red towards her destination. There had been a wad of cash stashed in there too, as well as a pair of sunglasses, a track phone, and to her utter fascination and horror, a gun. The latter she'd left in its place, instead taking out the map and putting on the sunglasses so the sun wouldn't blind her as she drove.

It had been nice to be on the road for a while, mindless activity with the radio on. She'd followed the directions and ended up on a small peninsula, the bed and breakfast standing proud yet humbly with its title sign out front. Smiling in delighted surprise, she moved to put the map back in the console for the trip home, exchanged it for the track phone and sat staring at the gun with puzzling conscience for a moment. Logan had said she'd be safe here, yet she couldn't help but wonder if the weapon was just in case…

Blinking, she quickly grabbed it from the console and shoved it in the bottom of her bag without further thought.

She didn't let the choice nag her as she got out of the car, locking its doors securely. It was one of the nicer cars in Logan's garage, and she'd been utterly terrified to drive it at first. It was a sure bet that if she accidentally wrecked it, it'd take about twenty years for her to pay it off, assuming she ever got to go back home and could salvage her job at K-mart, that was. But once she'd gotten behind the wheel it had driven easily, allowing her to even speed a little with secret thrill. She'd never driven a sports car before– just her grammy's battered Honda– but now she understood why Wyatt raved about Logan's cars so much.

Taking a deep breath, she started towards the bed and breakfast, figuring that was why there had been cash in the console– to be able to rent a room anyways. Stepping inside was like a flashback to the past. It smelled of old parchment and wood fires, stairs immediately in front of her in the quaint entry hall, a sitting room to the right, a check-in foyer to her left. She meandered to the front desk and smiled at the beautiful woman behind it, who beamed back from behind red lips.

"Hello, sweetheart," said the woman, looking like she'd just stepped off the cover of Vogue with lush curves and flawless golden hair flecked with gray, which suited her perfectly. Violet noticed a nametag on her fifties styled dress that read Gladys. "How may I help you?"

"Um, I'd like a room, please," Violet said, trying her best to act as if she'd had all of this planned.

"I'm afraid that you need a reservation, sweetheart," said Gladys with a sympathizing smile.

Violet blushed from head-to-toe, suddenly feeling ten kinds of stupid. "Oh," she said, and then realized that if Logan had given her the address of this place, he must have known such a thing. "Could you maybe check under the name Logan Fairgrave, then?" she asked softly, figuring Logan wouldn't be apt to use her name considering the fact he'd been the one calling for reservations.

A small light flashed in Gladys' green eyes, which she quickly disguised with a bright smile. "Oh, of course!" she said. "You must be Logan's gal, I take it!" Violet had no heart to correct her. "We've been expecting you, sweetheart. It's…Violet, isn't it?" The smirk Gladys gave after saying her name made Violet shiver.

"Yes," Violet said, blush still prominent on her cheeks and nerves thoroughly freaked. "That's me."

"Oh, well your beau is such a darling," Gladys swooned, turning to the cubbies behind her to pull out a set of keys, giving them to Violet with a stunning smile. "It's so considerate of him to send you out here for the night as a birthday surprise while he's working! Just wait until you see your room!"

"Um, thanks?" Violet said, taking the keys awkwardly and glancing down at the floor. "I– what room is it?"

"Number six, sweetheart," Gladys said. "It's up the stairs and the third door on your left. We serve breakfast tomorrow morning from six to ten. Also, there is many an attraction around here. Brochures are up in your room on the desk, if you'd like to check anything out!"

"Thank you," Violet said again.

"Not a problem, sweetheart. Your beau already has everything paid for, so whatever you need just call down to the front desk for it. Check-out's at eleven tomorrow morning. Do you need someone to take your things up for you?" Gladys was giving her this secretive, excited grin that made Violet's stomach do little flips in anxiety. "I can call Scotty over, if needed."

"That's okay," Violet shrugged. "I just have this bag, so…"

"Alright, well, enjoy your stay, Violet, dear. Let me know if you need anything."

With a weary nod, Violet left to climb the steps to the second floor to be face with a narrow hall. There were six doors on each side, evenly spaced. Violet found room six quickly and unlocked it, a small pleasure in the fact she was using an actual old-fashioned key and not a room card. Vintage stuff made her undecidedly happy, always had.

Once inside, she let the door close behind her and gasped. The room wasn't big by any standard, but it was absolutely beautiful. The upper halves of the walls were lined in dark blue floral wallpaper, and the bottom half was wood trim painted white. The floors were the same white wood, and the bed was a massive white canopy with a thick comforter and endless pillows. There was a fireplace next to the bathroom door, which was exclusively bright with claw foot tub and Victorian sink. The west wall housed a large bay window that gave Violet a perfect view of the ocean; below it sat a desk complete with brochures and old books.

More than anything though, Violet was shocked by the abundant amount of vases full of flowers strewn about. There were daffodils and peonies and carnations and roses and violets and lilies and poppies and freesia and lavender and honeysuckle and baby's breath and daisies and azaleas galore. The room smelled like a greenhouse and each bud bloomed freshly picked. They covered the desk, the nightstands, the fire place's mantel and even the back of the toilet in the bathroom.

An excited, grateful giggle suddenly escaped her mouth and Violet shrugged her bag onto the bench at the end of the bed, walking over to the vase of daffodils on the desk and taking a sniff. At her amazed attention they began to double in size, buds spilling over the sides of the vase.

Had Logan done all of this for her?

At the comprehension she felt a sudden guilt for having treated him so poorly these past weeks. It'd been so selfish of her, just shutting everyone out because she was sad. But that was how she'd always been, if she were honest with herself. One time she'd read a quote to explain it, something about a depressed person always being self-centered because it was hard to live in the hell of yourself and not think of it every moment.

Had Persephone ever been like this? In every memory Violet had of the woman, she'd always felt a vague sense of underlying sadness, something the Goddess had never been able to escape. Her entire life Persephone had grown up with a sheltering mother, learning that everything she did needed approval. She'd never felt like she did things right under Demeter's care, always asking is this right Mama did I do good Mama. It had even been a feeling that had unfortunately bled over into her time with Hades, even when the loneliness Persephone felt trapped in the dark of the Underworld had smothered her. Hades had made it better somehow, in bits. She'd felt more right with him, more like a proud woman and less an ignorant child. But the sadness had always been there, a completely human emotion Persephone had seen in no other God except maybe Hades himself.

And Logan, too, Violet realized with shock. While he wasn't depressed necessarily, Violet could see the lonesomeness in him. She'd always been able to. He put on a front like he didn't need anyone, but Violet knew he just wanted someone to love him. Not because he had been a God once, or because they felt they owed it to him for saving their life or taking them in, but just because he was Logan and that was it.

Sighing, she dropped down onto the bench next to her bag. For a moment she didn't do anything but sit there. But after a bit she took out the track phone, thinking that she should check in with Thaddeus now that she was settled who'd told her the house's number was programmed into the phone before she'd left this morning. In fact, it was the only number programmed into the phone she saw once looking at the contacts. She pressed the call button after a moment, putting the receiver to her ear and waiting.

Thaddeus answered after the third ring, happy to hear she'd liked her present, as he'd known about it all along and had even suggested such a trip when Logan was thinking up ideas. Violet thanked him with a warm laugh, telling him to get along with Chad while he was gone. Thaddeus gave a heavy groan, before perking up again and telling her to take care of herself and that he'd call in the morning to make sure everything was fine. Violet was just about to bid him goodbye, when she had a sudden idea.

"Thaddeus," she said softly. "Do you think you could, um, patch me through to Logan's office phone…? So I can thank him."

"Sure, but he isn't home just yet, queeny. You'll havta leave a message."

"That's fine, really," Violet murmured. "Oh, but Thaddeus?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For everything, I mean. You're– you're a good friend."

"Aw, I think I'm tearing up," Thaddeus joked warmly. "Call me when you wake up tomorrow, queeny. Happy birthday."

Within the next minute Violet was patched through to Logan's office phone, heart thumping loudly in her chest as the voicemail told her to leave a message. "Um, Logan?" she started, stumbling over her next words. "H-hi. It's me– Violet, I mean. It's Violet. I just…I wanted to say thank you, for my present I mean. I– I love it. It's beautiful. The flowers are beautiful."

She took a deep breath, thinking it would be best to end the call now but she couldn't, there was still so much more to say. "I just, Logan I'm so sorry. For how I've treated you lately, I mean. That hasn't been fair of me. I'm not going to say it's fine you lied to me or that you wanted to use me at first, because that would mean I'd be lying myself. But I– I understand. I understand why you did it. And I, well, I forgive you. I do. Not just because you gave me a great birthday present or anything, but because you're a good guy underneath it all, and I can't not forgive you… I don't want you to beat yourself up about it anymore, okay?

"Everything you said in that card, I believe it. And I just want you to know, my feelings were the same, back in Chicago. You're a good man, Logan, and I don't want you to think otherwise. You've made mistakes, but you're still a good man. I forgive you…" She bit her lip, shook her head and took another deep breath. "But, uh, thank you again for my birthday present. I couldn't have asked for a better one. I'm gonna let you go before I override your inbox. I– I hope you have a good night."

She ended the call then, setting the phone down in her lap with shaking hands. What she had to say had been said, and she could only hope he believed the words, and that he'd forgive her too.

By some miracle, she'd thought to pack a dress.

Right now, she couldn't help but think that came in handy. Even if she was wearing it alone in her room, drinking cheap wine– the perks of being twenty-one finally in her grasp– from a nearby market and listening to Alanis Morrisette as loud as her iPod could play, she felt somewhat festive in the soft summer dress with its sheer skirt and ruffled straps.

Lazily, she had her feet propped up on the desk, staring out at the sea where a buoy flashed in the night. There was a Hostess cupcake next to her foot, a single candle sticking out of it, lit with the wax running onto the cupcake's processed frosting. Taking another sip of wine out of one of the paper cups she'd bought along with the beverage, cupcake and candles, Violet put her feet down on the floor and leaned towards the cupcake, eyes on the candle.

Contemplatively, she stared at the flickering flame a moment, eyes sad and posture lonely. "I wish I could just get my shit together," she finally mumbled.

Took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and blew…

She kept her eyes closed after, tempted to never open them again if it would make everything else in the world go away. Fix the problem just like that, erase the fact she'd ever been a Goddess or that her father had ever died and her mom had ever gone insane. Make it so her and Danny had never had to make it on their own, that the Titans had been killed the first time and the world could be safe from their wrath.

But wishing was simple chimerics, an idea told to children to give them hope for the future where there was none.

Exhaling, Violet let her eyes slip open, light flashing into the window from the buoy beyond. Just as she was about to take the wrapper off her cupcake and enjoy her generic version of a birthday cake, there was a knock on her room's door.

She figured it was Gladys, who had stopped by five times at least to see if she needed anything. While it was sweet of the woman to do so, Violet was becoming slightly annoyed and about ready to ask the inn manager just to leave her alone. There was a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the room's door handle for a reason, after all.

Rolling her eyes, Violet stumbled over to the door, the many flowers in the room swelling with her proximity. She didn't bother to peer out the peephole, instead twisting the lock and letting the door drift open, ready to tell Gladys to give it a rest. But who she found on the other side though was definitely not Gladys.

It was Logan.

He stood there with his back to her, hands in his pockets and posture tense, bouncing on his heels. When he heard her gasp in surprise, he spun, startled. The dark crescents under his eyes leered like Cheshire grins as he stared at her, and she wondered how long it had been since he had had a good night's sleep. Even his skin was paler than usual.

A soft sadness welled in her then, and before the man could even say 'hello', she grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and dragged him inside, shutting the door behind them. She didn't give him chance to recover, instead throwing her arms around him in a tight hug, inhaling his scent that she hadn't let herself do the past three weeks. He smelled more of smoke than usual– like clove cigarettes– and his customary aftershave as well as that earthy quality she could never put a name to.

"Well, hello," he said, seeming shocked and rigid in her embrace.

"Hi," she squeaked, grinned when he suddenly hugged her back just as forcefully.

They broke apart after what seemed forever but also not long enough, him clearing his throat, her shifting awkwardly in her summer dress. "You look nice," he said after a moment, rubbing the back of his head.

"Thank you," she said, pinching at her skirts and pulling them out before letting them drift back into place. "I figured since it's my birthday, I may as well dress up."

"It suits you," he said, glanced around the room and cleared his throat again. "So I take it you liked the flowers?"

"Very much."

"Good," he said, eyes lingering on the desk at the half-empty bottle of wine and the cupcake covered in coagulating wax. Violet blushed and looked down at the floor, hands now clasped behind her back. "I got your message," he finally said, seeming almost sheepish at the admission. "I would've called first but I…didn't." He grimaced. "If you, uh, want to be alone though, I understand. Maybe I should've called first." He took a step towards the door then, continued to babble. "I mean I got you this room so you could get away from all of us, me namely, for a while, and then I just show up and ruin it like some bumbling moron and I–"

"Stay," she said, interrupting him.

He froze, halfway to the door and just a breath away from her. "What?"

"Stay," she said, eyes shining in the soft light of the room. "I mean, it is my birthday. I shouldn't be alone on my birthday." She tried to give him her best smile. It turned into more of a tremor of the lips. "I want you to stay, Logan. Please?"

For a moment, he looked torn. She thought he really was going to leave, had come here for no reaon other than to check-up on her to see if she'd gone crazy for leaving that message. But then, abruptly, his whole frame relaxed. He nodded, a relieved breath escaping his lips. "Okay," he said. "I'll stay."