The guy at table seven looked Sons of Anarchy dangerous. With his food delivered, he'd basically been ignored by the rest of the wait staff so Bonnie absorbed him into her already busy section. Being the new girl at the Four Sticks Café, she wasn't going to whine about another server neglecting a patron, not when said server was training her. Then there was that thing where she desperately needed the cash. Getting fired was not an option while she still made her home in her car.

The guy's behavior screamed unapproachable though. Once he had his classic burger with steak fries and a beer, he was good. His attention was divided between his dinner, a battered paperback copy of The Odyssey, and the view of the Atlantic beyond the busy boardwalk.

"There might be some cute under all that bush." Robbie commented at the beverage station where he and Bonnie were filling drink orders. "He's got killer eyes, but that outfit's seen better days."

She'd only been here two weeks and Bonnie already had this one pegged as a snooty, materialistic man child on the prowl for diamond life dick. Was as dumb as the clay dirt he probably ate too, in spite of being pre-med. She gave him a plastic smile and hefted the tray of Coronas and margaritas high to deliver to the booth directly across from mystery guy.

After dropping off the drinks and taking an order for appetizers, Bonnie stopped at seven again. He was sweeping hair off his forehead and the glint of a silver dog tag attached to the wide brown leather cuff on his wrist caught her eye. See? He was military or former military and now the aloofness made sense. Probably the result of too many tours of duty and horrors she couldn't even imagine.

She pitched her voice high to counter the indie music blasting from the overhead speakers. "How're we doing here?"

Vivid blue eyes swung her way and Robbie was right. He'd be cute if you took a weed whacker to all that long dark hair and the thick beard. And she might need these tips, but if dude kept staring at her like that, Robbie could have his table back.

"Can I get you anything else?" Bonnie asked with emphasis.

His regard was too intense not be interpreted as interest, but what kind of interest? This wasn't some cursory scoping out, his eyeballing was blatant.

"Just the bill." He actually smiled at her, if that faint tilt at the corner, closed-mouth thing could be called a smile.

She hurried off and braced for another round of ogling when she returned to drop off his bill, but he was off into his book again. The influx of new customers and pain shooting up her legs and back pushed him out of Bonnie's thoughts until she noticed the now empty table being cleared. The tip he'd left was exceedingly generous and Bonnie was pissed that she'd have to share it with Robbie and the busser.

At evening's end, Bonnie's nerves were as frayed as the rest of her and even knowing she'd have to sleep in her car wasn't enough to slay the joy she felt at clocking out. All that joy fled when she saw danger guy leaning against the Prius as he took in the action on the avenue. Sitting down, he'd just looked dangerous. Now he seemed more menacing standing under the harsh street lights. The clothes might be plain, but the fabric of the gray T-shirt was stretched across chest and arms that were ripped. Lots of damage could be done with those muscles.

Instinctively Bonnie's hand went to the small can of mace she kept in her cross body, though rationally she was blowing off this second encounter as just coincidence. There was no way he could know that he was leaning against her car. But then he saw her approach and pushed away from the passenger door like he'd been expecting her. His stance was passive, arms relaxed at his sides as a warm gust flung dark strands across his face. Bonnie's heartrate quickened as she stopped a few feet away. The parking lot was well lit, located between the café and another bar. People were walking through to get to the nearby establishments. He wouldn't try anything with all these witnesses. Would he?

"Hey." His tone was deliberately soothing when he noticed her distress. "Don't freak out, alright?"

Her laughed was strangled and humorless. "You asking me not to freak out means I should probably freak out."

He held up a hand. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Bonnie eased the mace out and backed up. A couple who were walking by eyed them with caution, slowing down as they continued to glance back.

"A few nights ago, you were in your car. Outside my place." He recounted, trying to jolt her memory. His gaze shifted to their audience then back to her again. "I asked you if you needed any help, you told me you had a gun?"

Lord, take me now.

Bonnie's face was hot as she shoved the mace back into her purse and blinked back tears.

"Hey, it's cool. Don't be embarrassed."

Oh it was way too late for that.

"What makes you…how do you even know that was me?"

He tapped a pec, eyes zooming in on her yellow work shirt and Bonnie glanced down at the Four Sticks logo stitched on the breast pocket. She'd been sleeping in it the night she'd parked behind his building. He must have gotten a really good look at her before she'd finally woken up.

"Are you okay?" Someone yelled behind her.

Bonnie sighed as she turned and waved the couple off with forced pleasantness. "Yeah, I'm fine."

And she was confident in her reply. She didn't sense any malevolence on his part, outward appearance aside. If she'd been in his position, she'd have probably sought her out too. Human suffering was hard to ignore unless you were born heartless.

"I don't think sleeping in your car constitutes 'fine'." He said as he watched the couple finally walk off.

Add a side of anger to go with that humiliation. Bonnie yanked out her keys, holding one defensively just in case as she edged towards her car, voice trembling. "I'm sorry I trespassed on your property, but you don't know me. You should leave before I start screaming my ass off."

"If you need any help -"

"Don't need your help."

Hands on hips, he watched her lower herself stiffly into the Prius. Actually came to the passenger side as she was cranking up the engine and yelled at her through the window.

"If you need somewhere to go, my place is safe. Crime usually ramps up around this time of year, you should be careful where you park."

For the second time in their fledgling "relationship", Bonnie peeled off and left him standing in the spot where the Prius had been.

And she didn't really believe in fate, but she had a feeling she'd be seeing him again.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Fuck fate. Bonnie quit the waitressing gig to check groceries. It paid shit wages, but at least her legs weren't jelly by the end of her shift and that guy wouldn't know where she worked. Every time she thought about his offer of help, she felt humiliated all over again. And more determined than ever to improve her circumstances.

Unfortunately, the shit wages weren't enough income to qualify for even an efficiency apartment. She could work a second job, but just thinking about that possibility exhausted her. With the onslaught of the tourist season, sleeping in her car and washing off in public restrooms was getting dicey. And when she just couldn't take it anymore, she splurged on the cheapest hotel room she could find for a week. By the end of it, she was broke again, having recklessly blown through her little stash for wants instead of saving for needs. The hot showers and lumpy bed had been worth it though and her hair was squeaky clean for the first time in weeks.

In June, the weather was still mild but being closed up in a car elevated the temperature at least another ten or fifteen degrees. After a couple nights sweating it out, Bonnie swallowed her pride on a muggy Saturday, went to a shelter and waited in a long line of fellow indigents for a bed. She lasted three hours. Sleeping among crying babies broke her heart and there were too many suspect men roaming around. Or maybe she was just being paranoid.

She was back in her car and prowling the city for a place to park. By the fourth circuit, she was an emotional wreck, teetering on the edge of a complete nervous breakdown. Police were out in force because of the season. Bonnie would try to pull into a space only to be told to move along. Vagrants who'd been chased from the nicer areas were sleeping in the church parking lots and she wasn't about to risk being accosted. Neighborhoods were a no-no after a homeowner had spotted her and threatened to call 911. The hotels were manned by security guards and valets. And people were everywhere. Walking everywhere, partying everywhere, loitering everywhere, why didn't people go the hell home? If she were blessed with one, she'd never leave.

A desperate little voice in the back of Bonnie's sluggish mind reminded her that 21st street was only a block away. Pride was begging her not to even go there, but she'd already nodded off twice while driving and she was so weary, weary of her situation, weary in spirit. The weight of months of living hand to mouth pressed down on her and all she needed was a little rest to rejuvenate, to find the strength to keep fighting.

Just one night and then she'd make a new plan in the morning.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Elena showed up early Saturday evening. Damon had been glaring out the window, hellish memories fucking with his head, when he spotted her crossing the street. Hadn't seen her in years, but the heartbeat picked up like always and he had a sudden, inexplicable flashback of his tongue swirling in her quim. Legs forever long, skin glowing, dark hair dancing in the late June breeze. Still beautiful, still a threat to his sanity.

Blending into the shadows, Damon warned the beast to be quiet and listened as knocking echoed from downstairs. He wavered between not wanting to see her and wanting to see her. Old feelings resurfaced, old longings. Sex would be very much welcome after his stint of forced celibacy. She could be had if the letters he'd received during lockup were anything to go by. Tales from home and how-are-yous laced with underlying desire. Bad boys had always been her drug.

Wonder if she's still banging baby brother.

The knocking ceased. Damon tracked Elena as she rounded the building's rear, where she'd probably spied his car, then tracked her back to the front where she knocked another five minutes before finally giving up. She disappeared back the way she'd come and he became lost in his thoughts again until the activity on 21st drew him back out.

Natives and tourists flowed up, down and around the block. Muted music drifted from the bar across the street and if he were chilling on the fire escape, as he sometimes did, he could probably smell the seafood from the eatery next door and the salt air wafting from the ocean. Before Damon had gone to prison, this area had been like a ghost town. Now it was bustling with shops, restaurants, revitalized bungalows and a new hotel sprang up on the waterfront every month it seemed. Despite the lure of the eclectic neighborhood, he rarely ventured out, most often spending his downtime brooding, sleeping or tinkering with the Camaro to get her rolling cherry again.

On the street, a blue car zoomed by and took a corner at the light. Wrong model but right color and Damon gave its significance about a second of contemplation. He'd stopped checking the back of the building for the girl several weeks ago. She wasn't his problem. He'd done the honorable thing in making sure she was okay, she'd rejected his help. His conscience was clear and that's where their story would end.

A cooler sat on a metal table in the center of the room. He snagged a beer, turned on the portable radio and guzzled inferior hops as Soundgarden relieved the space of silence. After contemplating his surroundings, he could finally see it through Saltzman's eyes. Maybe a woman's. This place was a dump. He should put some effort into making it more livable since he'd be here for the long haul.

Venturing into one of the empty back offices, where remnants of a once thriving business were piled high, Damon searched for something salvageable between air-guitaring and wailing off key.

Black hole sun,
Won't you come
And wash away the rain?
Black hole sun,
Won't you come?
Won't you come?

The beast's growling had nothing to do with Damon's imperfect pitch. He went on full alert, sneer aimed at a window as the snarling deepened.

"Quiet, boy. Stay."

Damon sidled over and peered outside expecting to see Elena again or worse, his brother. Instead, he saw the Prius sliding behind the dumpster and seconds later, its headlights went dark. He couldn't help the smug smile. Streets must be pretty hard if she were seeking shelter here.

As the beast stretched and settled down nearby, Damon went back to searching through the dusty relics, swigging and humming, his mood…odd…as he thought about his guest.

Their story hadn't ended after all.