So just a bit of a warning, there's some slightly more mature content in this chapter. Nothing that goes outside of the T rating, but I just wanted to give a bit of a heads up beforehand.

Thanks for reading!


"Soph? Come on, Soph, wake up."

I jolted awake with a tiny gasp and blinked, peering around me with squinted, tired eyes. "What happened?" I asked groggily, tugging on the blanket that was wrapped around me and trying to pull it up to my chin again.

"It's five minutes to midnight," Fred whispered, gently nudging me upright and off of his shoulder.

"Mm, midnight was hours ago," I mumbled, nestling into the cushions of the loveseat since Fred had removed me from his shoulder.

Fred chuckled. "In London, it was," he said. "Not here." I felt his hand brush my hair out of my face. "Come on, you're going to miss the show."

I opened my eyes and peered up at Fred sleepily. "I'm already looking at the show," I said wryly. "And the view is great."

"Are you attempting to flirt with me?" Fred looked at me in amusement. "Was that a pick up line?"

"Maybe," I answered. "It depends. Did it work?"

"Absolutely not. It was awful."

I groaned and pulled the blanket over my head. "What, so I'm just supposed to leave all the flirting to you?"

"For the time being, perhaps you should," Fred answered, reaching out and pulling the blanket away from my face. "Until you get better at it. You're almost as bad at flirting as you are at ice skating."

"Maybe you are too, if insulting a girl is your way of getting them to like you," I scoffed. "Besides, I somehow managed to get you to like me, didn't I? With hardly any words at all, since you also keep pointing out that I was practically a mute. That, I think, takes skill."

"It was the way you kept staring at me as if I was batty," Fred said with a smile.

"You are batty," I argued.

"Yeah, well, if you don't get up, you really are going to miss the excitement, so come on." He stood and grabbed my hands, tugging me to my feet as the blanket fell off of me and landed in a heap on the loveseat.

Fred led me to the balcony railing and handed me one of the firewhiskeys. He used his wand to remove the caps from both of them and then tilted his bottle towards mine.

"To misfits?" I said, gently clinking my bottle against his.

Fred let out a breath of laughter. "To us-the two biggest misfits around."

"I thought Charlie was the biggest misfit," I said as we each took a drink.

"Nah, I didn't want to hurt his feelings that day, but it's you and me," Fred said. "The joke shop owner, who was actually sad and rage-filled, and the little hermit." He reached out and lightly shoved my shoulder.

I laughed. "But you're not as sad and rage-filled anymore. And you weren't when you opened the joke shop." I shrugged. "So it works out."

"And you're not so much of a hermit anymore," Fred replied. "I'd actually go so far as to say you like people."

"I do like people," I agreed with a laugh. "Most people, anyway. But the rage-filled joke shop owner may be my favorite. Don't tell anyone."

Fred nodded his head thoughtfully. "An angry joke shop owner, and a people-hating hermit whose favorite person happens to be the angry joke shop owner." He looked at me with a smile. "The irony of all of that is what really makes us misfits."

I smiled and let out a breath of laughter. "I won't disagree with that."

We clinked our bottles together again and took another drink before turning to look out at Times Square in comfortable silence. Shortly after, the countdown to midnight began. The crowd below us was going wild, the giant, glowing New Years Eve ball was being lowered little by little, and we were seconds away from an entire new year-again.

"Ten!" Fred yelled out from beside me, holding his firewhiskey straight up in the air and letting out a whoop. "Nine! Eight! Sophie, come on, I want to hear you yelling! Seven!"

I laughed and shook my head as I became almost overcome by my giggles.

"Do it! Use your voice, little hermit!" He reached over and playfully poked my side. "Come on. Six!"

"Fred, no," I laughed.

"Do it!" he urged, poking my side harder.

I laughed harder, but finally gave in to his request. "Five!" I yelled, my voice coming out loud to my own ears, but lost in the noise of the celebration down below.

"Four!" Fred cried.

"Three!"

"Two!"

"One!" the two of us yelled out the last number together as it felt like the world exploded in celebration around us. Confetti and streamers fell from the air, music was playing loudly, and the new year, 2000, was flashing brightly on a huge screen across from us.

Fred swiftly leaned down and kissed me, tightly pulling me to him as the new year celebration went on around us. When we broke apart, a smile spread across Fred's face and he laughed. "You've managed to get confetti in your hair," he said, reaching up to pull it out. He opened his fist and showed me the piece of shiny silver confetti in his palm.

I gingerly picked it up and smiled. "I'm going to keep it," I said. "For the memories. Along with that photo of you faceplanting on the ice."

"Great," Fred laughed. He turned away from me and surveyed the open air in front of us, searching the remaining streamers and confetti that were still falling. Suddenly, he lunged out with his arm and firmly caught a deep blue streamer in his hand along with a few pieces of confetti. "Gotcha!" he cried. He turned back to me proudly as he draped the streamer around his neck. "What a brilliant night," he said breathlessly. "Can we do this every New Years Eve?"

I let out a half-laugh, half-groan. "How does anyone ever manage to keep up with you?"

"Dunno," Fred shrugged, grinning at me.

I smiled and reached out to trail a finger along the streamer hanging from his neck. "I have to admit, I would like to come back and give ice skating another try when we've had more time to practice," I said.

"You mean you're going to make me ice skate even more?" Fred groaned.

I let out a giggle before I looked up from where my finger was moving along the streamer, trailing my eyes upwards until I was looking into Fred's face. "Tonight was the best night I've ever had," I whispered.

Fred looked back at me and we just stared at each other for a moment before we both suddenly leaned in at the same time. Fred's lips crashed into mine and his arms snaked around my waist as my own hands went to the sides of his neck and face. I found myself walking backwards until I hit the sliding door to the room. Fred reached behind me and pushed the door open and we stepped inside. Fred closed the door behind us without breaking the kiss and I reached up and yanked off my hat. Fred's hands were at my coat zipper, pulling it down and pushing my coat off my shoulders before he began removing his own coat and hat while still continuing to kiss me.

We stood there in the middle of the room for a moment, our coats, hats, scarves and mittens lying discarded around the room. Fred's fingers were digging into my sides and my back as he pulled me tightly to him. After a moment, he began backing me up again until we reached the bed. My knees buckled as they collided with the side of it and I fell backwards, bouncing slightly on the mattress as Fred hovered above me.

"You doing okay?" he asked.

I nodded. "Mm," I managed to gasp out.

Fred immediately went back to kissing me as I kicked my shoes off and Fred did the same. I scuttled backwards on the bed and Fred moved with me, keeping himself hovered above me. My mind remained blank throughout the whole thing, despite one vague, half-formed thought-or rather more like a fear. A fear that while my mind was blank now, any second it could be flooded with memories of Eric and I'd suddenly be unable to breathe. I'd have to tell Fred to stop, and from the way he was kissing me, I knew he didn't want to stop. I didn't want him to stop. I wanted him to keep going. I wanted to silence the ghosts that had been haunting me, even after Eric's death. I wanted to do the things I wanted to in peace.

When Fred slipped my sweater over my head a moment later, I hardly noticed. I was floating on a high of not only what Fred was doing to me, but also on the high that my mind was still silent and I hardly dared to believe it.

I let out a whimper as Fred's fingers trailed over my bare stomach and sides, pressing into my hip bones.

"Let me know if you need me to stop," Fred murmured, his breath warm on my neck as he began kissing my collarbone.

"I don't want you to stop," I whispered.

"But if you need me to...." Fred didn't finish his thought and I didn't finish it for him either. I let him keep going, even when he paused in kissing me to tug off his own shirt. I shivered in his sudden absence, but a moment later, his lips were on mine again, and warmth radiated throughout my entire body.

My mind stayed blank until Fred had unbuttoned my jeans and begun to slide them down my legs. I pressed my feet into the bed and lifted myself up to make things easier. When he was done, I lowered my hips back down and arched my back as Fred hovered over me again. One of his hands strayed upwards from my waist, traveled up my side and around to my back. He reached for the clasp of my bra and his fingers brushed against the bottoms of my scars. My body involuntarily tensed as I drew in a shaky gasp.

"Fred, I can't," I blurted out, gently pushing against him. "Stop for a second. Please."

Fred immediately halted his movements, but remained above me, his head down so I couldn't see his expression. But he stayed completely and totally still as I tried to catch my breath beneath him.

"Let me up," I gasped, tears welling up in my eyes. Fred rolled to the side and I sat up, looking around desperately for my shirt. "Damnit, where are my clothes?" I muttered.

"Here," Fred said, tossing me his shirt. "Use this."

I pulled it over my head and lifted my hair out from beneath the collar. I tugged the sleeves down over my hands and finally stilled my movements as I sat with my hands at the side of my head, my fingertips gripping my hair.

"Are you angry?" I finally whispered, refusing to turn and look at Fred. I kept my head in my hands and my eyes downcast.

"No, I'm not angry, Sophie," Fred sighed from behind me.

I lifted my head and turned to look at him tearfully. "But I keep ruining-"

"It has nothing to do with ruining," Fred said, looking up at me. "I've told you that there's more I want out of a relationship than moments like this. I can wait. But what does upset me is that you seem to always be so upset about this and that you also think I'm upset. It's not that big of a deal."

"How can you say that?" I asked, standing up from the bed, the hem of Fred's shirt falling and skimming the tops of my thighs. "It's not about sleeping with you. Not completely. It's about the fact that I am so completely and totally messed up that-"

"We all are," Fred interrupted with a shrug. "I know more about inner demons than anyone, Sophie. You really must not think much of me if you think I'd be mad at you about what you're going through. Even if I hadn't been through my own shit, I wouldn't be mad. You have to know that. And the fact that you might not is more upsetting to me than anything."

"You can't sit there and say you're not at least a little disappointed that I stopped you," I said, hating how my voice shook as I wrapped my arms around myself.

Fred was quiet for a moment. "I would've liked to keep going, yeah, but-"

"See?"

"Let me finish," Fred said firmly. "I'm not going to force you. Again, do you really think I'm that much of an asshole?"

I shook my head as I sniffled. "I know you're not. But I-I don't want to have to stop you. For your sake and for mine. I wanted to keep going too, but I couldn't." I swallowed. "My mind was so quiet for so long, until-"

"Until I touched your back," Fred said.

I nodded. "Yeah, until then."

"I think all of this is more about you than about me," Fred whispered. "You're more frustrated with yourself for hitting a roadblock. You ask me if I'm angry because you're angry."

"Of course I'm angry!" I answered, throwing my arms out to the sides. "And embarrassed. And ashamed. I've just told you that I want to do this with you. I want to be with you. And it's everything going on in my head that's making me afraid and I'm disappointed in myself for getting in my own way and I hate making things difficult."

"You're not."

"Stop, Fred," I said, turning away and beginning to pace back and forth at the foot of the bed.

"You're complicating something that shouldn't be complicated," Fred insisted.

"Merlin, Fred!" I cried in exasperation. "It is complicated! I'm complicated."

"It's not," Fred said firmly. "And you're not. You're afraid. You're not entirely trusting of people. I get that. And I can wait, as I've said."

"What if you can't?" I asked.

"I can and I will!" Fred argued. "I'm not interested in treating you like shit, Sophie. Believe it or not, there are people out there who want to do the right thing." He swallowed. "You once told me yourself that you had seen what mean looked like and that I wasn't it. You told me that you knew I wasn't a monster because I defended you to Marcus Flint and his stupid friends. If you knew that back then, then you must know it still!"

"I do know it. But I'm not doing any of this on purpose!" I cried. "It's like I can't turn my brain off or stop it from overthinking everything. It's agonizing for me! Do you think I enjoy this? Do you think I enjoy being haunted by ghosts of things that are now part of my past?"

"No, of course not. And this is coming from someone who's been haunted by his own past."

"I am just so desperate to put all this utter crap behind me," I said, continuing to pace. "I want normalcy, Fred. And I know you don't want me to blame myself, but I can't help it! I mean, I bet it was never like this when you were with Angelina! It was so simple with her and with me it's so hard."

"Why are you bringing Angelina up?" Fred asked stonily as he stood up from the bed. "Why are you comparing yourself to her? Why are you comparing the relationship that you and I have to the one I had with her? They are not the same. You don't even know what it was like with Angelina."

"I know she's not like me!" I argued. "She doesn't have a screwed up past. She's not covered in physical and emotional scars-"

"We went through a war here, Sophie," Fred argued. "None of us made it out of that without damage."

"But it wasn't always that way," I said. "You were with her before that, and I can bet it was normal. You had time to be a normal couple. And even afterwards, I can bet things weren't so bad that it affected your relationship."

"It ended my relationship!" Fred shouted.

I flinched and backed away a few steps as I realized he was right.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I wasn't thinking-"

"You're completely hung up on the intimacy aspect," Fred said. He threw his arms out to the side. "Fine, yes, Angelina had sex with me without freaking out and stopping me every time. Is that what you wanted to hear? Our relationship was clearly so normal just based on that fact alone. That action completely defined everything." His voice dripped with sarcasm as he glared at me. "Even when I was losing my mind, getting wasted all the time, and screaming at her to leave me alone, thank goodness we were normal. When she showed up crying and told me she'd fallen in love with Oliver, and I screamed at her again and threatened to hex her if she didn't get out of my sight, thank Merlin we were normal. When I threw every framed picture of she and I at the door she'd just left through, smashing them all to pieces, before burning the photos, thank goodness she hadn't been afraid to sleep with me! Thank goodness she'd given us normalcy."

I flinched again and closed my eyes as I looked away. "I didn't mean-"

"Nothing is normal anymore, Sophie," Fred snapped. "Nothing. My life changed when Percy died, and again when Angelina left me. Both events spun my world upside down. But they're both part of me now and I can't change that. The same goes for you. You can't change anything that happened even though it changed you."

He had a point. But even still... "I'm not at the same point you are," I said. "The ghosts of your past haven't disappeared completely and they won't ever disappear completely. I don't expect that. I don't expect complete normalcy. But my ghosts do more than float around, shouting boo and being bothersome until you can silence them. My ghosts still have me tied up and immobile." I looked down at my wrists and traced the area of my left one with my right index finger-the same spot where Eric had tied ropes around me and pulled me around Salem. Sometimes it felt like they were still there. "My ghosts have control over me, Fred. That's what's killing me inside."

Fred didn't say anything for a second. "I know how it feels, Sophie. And it's nothing that can't be overcome. You'll get there one day and I'll be here when it does."

"But if one day it gets too be too much-"

"Damnit, Sophie!" Fred cried in exasperation. "How many times do I have to tell you!" He spoke the next six words slowly, enunciating every word clearly: "I am in love with you. This is not some kind of a fling where I'm only interested in you for sex."

"I know, but-"

"If you know then why do you act like it's all that matters?"

"It's not all that matters!" I cried, my voice rising to match his. "But it's something that two people do when they love each other! We both want it, and we even get partly there, and then I end up feeling like a tease. Dangling something in front of you-us--only to take it away. I'm disappointed every time, too!" I swallowed. "And what if it all just ends up being too much in other ways, or if I'm never free of my past? You can't sit there and promise forever. Things change in an instant. People change. It's not always their fault, but it happens. Look at what I thought happened with my mother. She didn't feel like she had a choice and I spent all those years thinking she didn't love me. It wasn't true, but I didn't know that. And look at my dad. He promised forever, too."

"I am not him," Fred growled. "Just like I am not Eric and I am not your mother, either. I know between all of them, you haven't had many positive relationships in your life, but I am in this for the long haul."

"How can you promise that?" I snapped. "Angelina-"

"Shut up about Angelina!" Fred yelled, his hands balling into fists. "Stop dragging her name into every sentence of this conversation! Stop comparing yourself to her. You are not her. And I am not her. She left me. So you can bet that I'd fight like hell to not do that to someone else. But you love to compare everyone to other people instead of just focusing on who they are!"

"Angelina couldn't control what happened!" I cried. "That is my point, Fred. She couldn't control falling out of love with you, so what makes you think you can control it?"

"I don't know," Fred snapped, throwing up his hands. "I guess I don't. But I want to take that risk. Even after it's burned me before. That should be proof enough for you that I want this. I want you. And I'm willing to fight for it all, harder than ever. But all I've heard you talk about tonight is Angelina.

"That's not true!"

"Isn't it? You brought her and Oliver's engagement up earlier and in the past ten minutes alone, you've mentioned her at least four or five times. And I have to keep listening to it. I can tell you that she and Oliver are probably having the best shag of their lives right now and I'm sure as hell my name hasn't been brought up once!" He sent me a scathing look. "But at least they're normal, right?"

As I stood there gaping at him and feeling as if he'd slapped me, he furiously searched the floor for his coat. When he found it, he pulled it over his shirtless torso and zipped it up.

"Where are you going?" I managed to breathe out, my voice coming out vague and airy as my mind fought to process the last few minutes.

"I need some air," Fred muttered.

"Fred-no," I protested. "You can't leave. Wait-"

"Just-just stop talking, Sophie," he said, shaking his head as he glared at me. He stormed towards the door and flung it open, disappearing into the hallway and letting the door swing shut behind him with a foreboding thump.


It was now just past two in the morning. Fred had been gone for a little over an hour and I was currently curled up in the armchair near the window. I was still wearing Fred's shirt, but I'd gone out to get the blanket from the balcony and had wrapped it around myself before flinging myself down into the chair.

After Fred left, I'd burst into gut wrenching sobs that I stifled the best I could, but had still felt like they were going to rip my apart. I had remained where he'd left me, doubled over with a hand covering my mouth as I cried. And then when I was finally able to move, I'd grabbed the blanket, sat down in the armchair and cried some more, wetting the fabric with tears.

So many emotions had been running through me that I didn't even know what I was feeling. I was nervous and afraid about Fred wandering around an unfamiliar city alone. I knew he could take care of himself, but he wasn't in a good state mentally, and what if something happened to him anyway? The thought of him not coming back had also crossed my mind, but I'd pushed that one away. Of course he'd come back. He had to come back. He wouldn't just leave me here for good, no matter how angry he was. I knew that. But at the same time, I was afraid to face him when he did return.

Besides all of that, I was feeling remnants of guilt from earlier, but with fresh guilt layered on top of it for starting the fight. Why hadn't I been able to shut up? And Fred was right-there was no need to keep bringing up Angelina. All that must have felt like was as if I was trying to re-open a freshly healed wound.

But what I'd said was the truth. I wanted so desperately to be able to put my past behind me as much as I could-not banish it completely, because I knew that was impossible, as Fred said. I'd always be haunted in some form by what had happened, but I couldn't handle still feeling like I was shackled down with invisible chains, preventing me from doing things I wanted.

I thought back to the night Fred had been kissing me behind the Leaky Cauldron and left that deep red mark on my neck. I'd told Mrs. Weasley it was a mark of love and that I'd been so used to marks of hate before that point. For most of my life, I'd either been hardly touched at all or touched too roughly. None of my foster families before Eric had been overly affectionate. It just wasn't their personality or they were too busy. I'd get the occasional kiss on the forehead or pat on the head and even a hug here and there. But more often than not, it was nothing. And then I was at Eric's. In the time that I knew him, he'd pinned me to the ground, crushing me beneath his weight, sliced my back open with a knife, pushed me, shoved me, gripped my shoulders and shaken me. And most recently, he'd pinned me to the ground again to tie my wrists together. He'd stabbed me in the leg. He'd tried to kill me. And at some point whenever Fred was above me, I ended up being reminded of Eric. Whenever Fred touched my back or my wrists, I was reminded of Eric. The man took up too much space in my head and I wanted him gone.

But Fred wasn't Eric. He'd said that several times and I knew he was right. He wasn't Eric. Every touch from him was a touch of love and affection. I'd even told his mother I couldn't be ashamed or upset about what he'd done to my neck. Not really.

A realization began to occur to me as I sat there in the armchair. An idea, actually. I stared out through the glass of the sliding door, the lights of Times Square still brightly illuminated in the night. The city that never sleeps.

I continued to sit there as my brain worked almost in overtime, my idea nearly fully formulated in my head as I gazed out through the glass. My elbow rested on the arm of the chair and my thumbnail was poised just in front of my mouth as my brain worked overtime and I stared almost unblinkingly out at the city. I suddenly heard a noise at the door to the hotel room and was jolted out of my thoughts. Fred was back, but I didn't turn to look at him.

The door opened and I heard Fred slip back inside. I could see him in the reflection of the glass door, too. He shut the door softly behind him and came further into the room. When he noticed me sitting in the chair, he came to a stop over by the dresser. I saw him swallow almost nervously.

"Soph?" He asked quietly. "Were you waiting up for me?"

I scoffed and rolled my eyes in almost disgust, but didn't reply and didn't turn to look at him. He thought I'd been sitting here just on account of him not being here? That was only part of it, or had he forgotten so quickly?

"Shit," Fred muttered-so quietly that I barely heard him. "Dumb. Stupid..." he went on, chastising himself for what he'd said. I almost smiled, but didn't.

Finally, I turned and met his eyes. He took in my own red and swollen eyes as well as the tear tracks on my cheeks, my messy hair, and the way I'd curled myself into the armchair as if I were trying to disappear. And then his shoulders deflated and his expression softened.

He walked over to the bed and sat down on the corner of it that was closest to me. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together and staring down at them. "Soph, I'm sorry," he whispered. "I shouldn't have walked out like that. I shouldn't have worried you. I needed to clear my head, but..." He trailed off and shook his head. "I also said some things...I said things I shouldn't have said. I shouldn't have been so mean about you wanting to be normal. I know that's what you want. I know you want to be free from your past."

"I do more than anything," I whispered, my voice coming out hoarse and slightly nasally. "But you were right. I'm a different person now too. And I don't think there really is any going back to normal."

"That's not entirely true," Fred said, looking up at me. "It's more of a new normal. A new comfortable."

"I still feel so held back and so restricted," I explained. "Like I can't breathe. What Eric's done to me is affecting my life. He's dead but he still won't leave me alone. And it's not fair! I thought when he died that I was finally free, but I'm not." I met Fred's eyes. "I'm not trying to make it seem like sex is the only thing that matters between us. I know it's not. But like I said, it's a normal thing that people do, and we both want it."

"Badly," Fred whispered through a breath of laughter.

I let out a watery laugh of my own. "Exactly. See? It may not be the only thing of importance in our relationship. It may not be the basis of our relationship. But it's still important. It's still a normal aspect of a relationship. And being able to do that with you does kind of coincide with normalcy to me. And I also thought that maybe getting past my fears and being able to let you touch me would bring me one step closer to that new normal you mentioned. It would be one more invisible shackle removed from my body."

Fred swallowed. "I know it's not easy," he said. "And I'm sorry for making you feel badly about it. I kept telling you I knew all about it, but I didn't act like I did. I was just frustrated."

"I know," I whispered. "I'm sorry, too. For bringing up Angelina so much. I didn't mean to make you revisit the worst of what happened with her. I didn't mean to compare myself to her. But maybe a part of me was jealous."

"Jealous?" Fred asked, looking at me in surprise.

I nodded. "I know the end of your relationship was painful. But it began so normally. You were just two teenagers falling in love like they normally would. Your relationship began without any scars. I never had that at all. I've always been damaged. And when I met you, you were too. With you and me, it's entirely scars." I swallowed and chewed on my lip. "And maybe I was jealous that she did get to sleep with you without any kind of hesitation. You just...did it. And every time you and I go too far, I can't. Even though I want to. It's awful!"

"So what I'm hearing is that you're sexually frustrated," Fred commented.

I laughed and buried my head in my hands.

"It's alright," Fred went on teasingly. "It's just another thing that makes you a misfit." He chuckled. "The sexually frustrated hermit."

"Stop," I laughed, raising my head to look at him. My laughter faded and I let out a sigh. "I'm also sorry for making you think I was lumping you in with my dad and Eric. I do know you're not them. You have no intent of ever hurting me. And I know we can't control how our feelings may change-it's a risk, you were right. And I'm willing to take that risk, too, and take it day by day instead of dwelling on the what ifs. That'll drive anyone crazy."

"Agreed," Fred said quietly.

I adjusted myself on the arm chair, dropping my feet to the floor and leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees, mirroring the way Fred was sitting. "I was also thinking..." I began.

"About?" Fred asked.

"Do you remember Christmas Eve when I told your mother that you leaving a mark on my neck was a result of good things? Love and attraction and all of that?"

Fred nodded. "Yeah."

I spoke slowly, choosing each word carefully. "So many parts of my body have been handled roughly and been on the receiving end of acts of hate. My back is the most obvious. But while Eric was doing that, he was on top of me with all of his weight, pinning me to the ground. I could hardly breathe."

Fred sucked in a breath and closed his eyes.

"While I was living with him, he wasn't exactly the epitome of affectionate. Obviously. He had never severely injured me as badly as he did when he used the knife on my back, but he was rough. He'd grip my arms so tightly, he'd leave bruises or red marks. He'd shove me, push me, throw things...And you know about what he did most recently in Salem. He stabbed me in the leg, tied my wrists together, pinning me down again as he did so. He almost killed me. And that's not to mention all he's done to me mentally. But physically...I can't help but be reminded of all he's done whenever another person is about to touch me in the same spots. I want to end it before it begins so I won't have to relive it, even if it's only mentally."

"I'm sorry," Fred murmured. "I never wanted you to feel that way."

"I know you didn't. And it's not your fault. But that's what I was thinking. I meant what I said to your mother. You love me and your actions show it. Any mark you do leave is one I don't mind having. Whenever you do touch me, it feels good." I swallowed. "I think if I could almost...override every touch from Eric with one from you, those bad memories would be replaced with good ones."

Fred thought that over. "But how can we if you won't even let me?"

"We just...can't stop," I told him. "I think if we just go slow and maybe if you kept talking to me and keeping my mind, I don't know-present?-then maybe I can keep my fear at bay enough to keep going."

"Sophie, I don't think I can do that," Fred said, shaking his head. "It wouldn't sit right with me. I can't just keep going if you ask me to stop."

"I'm going to try not to have to ask you," I said. "And it has nothing to do with you, either. I need to ignore those damn demons just long enough to destroy the mental block they've got on my mind." I paused. "Besides, it's not like it's really against my will. This is still something I want. I just have other things to get past first. It's just like being afraid to do anything else. You tend to get inside your own head mentally, and it paralyzes you. You freeze. You can't even move. When in reality, it would be better to just...jump. Without thinking. To just do it."

Fred rubbed a hand over his jaw as he looked up at the ceiling in thought. "I don't know, Soph. I don't know if it's the same."

"Please, Fred," I whispered. "I'm afraid I'll never have the courage to move past this if I don't push myself to deal with the discomfort for just a little longer than I have been. I can't move past this if I never do it at all. Backing out due to fear is just making it worse. How many more fights will it lead to? How much more will it upset me-and in turn, upset you-each time it happens?"

"Soph..." Fred looked down at the ground again as he continued to rub his hand over his jaw. He let out a dry laugh. "I'm trying to be respectful of you, but..."

"I really think doing this will help," I told him. "And you'd be doing me a favor in the end."

"How will I know if you've changed your mind about this halfway through?"

"I will literally say that I've changed my mind. That way you'll know for sure. And then, yes, we can stop. But otherwise...keep going."

Fred let out a puff of air and ran his hands over his face as he thought that over.

"I just-I want every memory of Eric's hands on me to be replaced with memories of your hands," I whispered. "I want you to help me try to erase him."

Fred raised his head and stared at me, his eyes meeting mine as he swallowed. "You're sure?" He asked quietly.

I nodded in response, but didn't speak. Fred slowly stood up from the bed and knelt down in front of me. I remained still as he positioned himself between my legs, reached up and threaded the fingers of one hand through my hair, keeping his eyes trained on mine as he did so. He trailed his thumb across my cheekbone before sliding his hand further into my hair. He swallowed again and took in a slow breath as I stared back at him, my heart pounding.

Finally, he leaned in and kissed me, slowly and carefully. His free hand went to my waist instead as he tugged me slightly closer to the edge of the chair. After a minute, he pulled back and took my hand, pulling me to my feet. He kissed me again and his fingers found the hem of my shirt-his shirt, technically. I raised my arms, he tugged the shirt over my head and tossed it to the floor.

Meanwhile, my hands found the zipper of his coat and pulled it downwards, before pushing his coat off of his shoulders for the second time that night.

One of Fred's hands remained threaded in my hair as the other wandered up my back to the clasp of my bra. He unhooked it and unlike the night I'd shown him my scars, this time I slid it off completely. Fred's hand remained where it was on my back, his fingertips just below my scars as we both stilled our movements.

"You okay?" Fred asked, his forehead against mine.

I nodded. "So far, so good."

Fred swallowed and he was still and quiet for another moment. And then he was kissing me again, his hands wandering down to the small of my back and to my waist and hips, but staying away from my scars for the time being.

He guided me sideways and we fell onto the bed. Fred hovered above me again, but he did so without pinning me down. It wasn't like what Eric had done. Eric had been trying to keep me still, not caring if he hurt me. But Fred kept himself close to me while also giving me room to move.

Fred suddenly moved off of me and stretched out by my side. "Roll over," he instructed, gesturing for me to roll onto my side, facing away from him. I stared at him for a moment before doing as he said. The second I had, I felt Fred's lips on the base of my neck. He gently trailed kisses downwards until he reached the top of the scar on the left side of my back. And then he slowly pressed a trail of kisses down that scar, across the middle of my back, up the right scar, and all the way up to my shoulder. He pressed each kiss to my back firmly, but still lovingly at the same time. I shivered involuntarily and he paused.

"I'm okay," I whispered, rolling back over to my back. "It felt nice."

Fred nodded before going back to kissing my neck and collarbone as his hands wandered all over me, gently touching every spot Eric had ever touched and then some.

My own hands went to his belt buckle and I undid it without even thinking about it. I felt like my thoughts and movements weren't even connected. I was just acting.

Fred kicked his jeans the rest of the way off and hovered above me again. As the kissing continued, he eventually began pressing himself closer and closer to me. I pulled in a shaky breath as I stopped kissing him and turned my head away slightly, squeezing my eyes closed and actually chewing on my tongue to prevent myself from asking him to stop. My chest felt tight and I couldn't breathe again as images from the night I escaped Eric the first time flashed through my mind.

Falling and smacking into the pavement face first, knocking the wind out of me. Eric pouncing in me a moment later, using all of his weight to keep me on the ground. His hand pressing over my mouth to keep me quiet as I thrashed around and tried to bite him, but was unable to connect teeth with skin in all the commotion. The glint of the knife, the pain, the blood, my screams, muffled by Eric's hand, but filled with agony all the same.

"Sophie." Fred's quiet voice cut through my memories. He had stilled his movements and moved back off of me, supporting his upper body on his palms.

"I told you not to stop," I gasped out, keeping my eyes closed.

"I'm not stopping, just pausing," he said. "We can keep going in a minute, but I'm not just going to continue while you're like this. It's not fair. So for now, it's okay, catch your breath. Take your time. It's just me. Look...come on, look at me."

I felt his hand on my cheek, tilting my face back towards him. I opened my eyes and saw him looking down at me, his blue eyes staring into mine as his thumb caressed my cheek. I kept my eyes trained on his as my breathing slowed little by little. My fingers released the bedsheets that I hadn't even realized I'd been gripping so hard and I lifted my hands and placed them on Fred's chest, breaking eye contact with him for the first time to shift my gaze to where my fingers were now splayed out across Fred's skin, feeling his heartbeat. I closed my eyes again and took in a few more shaky breaths. The memories of Eric began to fade as well as the anger that had resurfaced with those memories. Anger that I was still under Eric's control. All that did remain was defiance and the need to take back control of my life.

Fred lightly kissed my forehead. "It's just me," he murmured, his lips brushing against my skin. "It's me. And I love you."

I nodded, took in a few more breaths through my nose, and then looked back up at him. "Keep going," I whispered.

Fred's eyes wandered over my face for a few seconds. I saw hesitation on his face and leaned up to kiss him.

"I'm okay, keep going," I repeated.

Fred swallowed thickly before nodding and leaning in to kiss me, cradling my head in his palm as he did so. As he pressed his body into mine again and moved his lips down to my neck and collarbone, I sighed and turned my head to the side, my eyes fluttering open to see the lights from the city shining through the now closed curtains over the balcony door.

Right now, a cleaning crew was probably out in Times Square, cleaning up the mess from the celebration, if they hadn't already finished. By the morning, everything would be back to normal, any evidence of tonight cleaned away. But the lights would still be there, shining almost blindingly bright.

By tomorrow, the messy fight I'd had with Fred would be cleaned up too. We'd have put it behind us. And I was hoping that the mess Eric had left me with in my own mind would be swept away as well. Not completely, of course. As Fred had said, our past was still part of us whether we liked it or not. But now I was in control. The messiness of both Fred's past and mine had exploded inside the hotel room tonight, and now we were cleaning it up. But, just like the city lights, Fred would still be there for me in the morning, and I'd be there for him. And things would be normal again. Our normal. The new normal.

Fred's lips searched for mine again and I turned my head away from the window to kiss him, letting my mind go blank and silent again as I left the ghosts of my past behind me, letting them drift away into last year and leaving Fred and I in the new one.