Chapter Fourteen

The boat pitched and rolled under Harry's feet as it jogged along its way out to the open sea. He stood at the bow of the small boat, leaning forwards on the railing, eyes closed, his other senses taking in his surroundings. The icy spray kicked up by the large waves pounding the side of the boat soaked Harry as he stood directly in their path. He didn't care. The cold water invigorated him, gave him what little pleasure out of life he was still able to hang on to.

Harry had scarcely felt more at home than he had in his last two months in this coastal British Columbian city. Here, nothing was expected of him, no more than his basic work duties anyway. People here left him be, sensing that he was not one to be bothered. All except Lorri of course.

An almost smirk formed at the corner of Harry's mouth at the thought of her. The dark expression on his face did not fade, but it certainly cut its severity. He opened his eyes and turned, leaning back on the railing this time, his bare arms crossed over his chest. Lorraine stood ten feet in front of him, struggling to keep her balance on the tilting deck. The wind whipping around the deck made it impossible for Harry to hear what she was saying, but she was gesturing him to come back inside.

He puffed his cigarette one last time and threw the butt overboard before following her back into the wheel house, the only enclosed section on the entire boat.

They were the only two on the boat today, taking it out to run it after some routine maintenance. This was Lorri's personal boat, not one of the commercial ones Harry had grown used to working on. He enjoyed the slight shift in scenery. His hand trailed over the black painted lettering spelling out the name of the boat. 'Serenity' it read, its block letters covering the front of the wheel house.

Harry laughed bitterly at the irony every time he stepped foot on this boat. And yet, it was almost fitting, for Harry never felt as calm, as in control of himself as when he was here on the water. He followed the matriarch inside, where she resumed her stance behind the wheel.

"What were you doing out there, Dame?" She was the only one who got away with calling him by the abbreviated version of his new name. "Trying to catch your death? It's barely above freezing and you're gallivanting out in your t-shirt." She half-heatedly scolded.

Truthfully, Harry didn't feel the cold anymore, his body had grown just as numb as his mind. He only shook his head at her and didn't respond.

She had grown used to his non-verbal responses and didn't push him for a response. She was one of the only ones who had been drawn to Harry, courteous enough to keep from prying into his past, not too much anyway. Of course she was curious, but she could see the haunted look in Harry's eyes, the wild anger that festered not too far under the surface. She was not willing to test how far she could push until the resolve that held it all back, snapped.

"Jack was saying he might give you a raise again soon." She made light conversation with Harry.

Harry snorted. "And what am I to do with it? I've already got more money that I know what to do with in this little town."

"Isn't there something you want, Damien, somewhere you want to go? Like a holiday or something?"

"No." Harry flatly responded. He hated all the attention he got because of his work. He was the best. Every man wanted him on their crew when they went out on the boats, but come the end of the day, no man wanted to sit next to him in the bar. There was something about him that they didn't trust, and Harry would very much like to keep it that way.

Harry's attention was drawn back to the stormy, tumultuous landscape in front of him. He pointed his hand out to the port bow. "Look out for that outcropping of rock." He warned Lorri calmly and cooly. She didn't see it, the rocks blending seamlessly into the turmoil of the sea. He took the wheel from her, steering them around it, his magic guiding them to safety.

Harry's magic was really what he had to thank for his success here. With Harry's subconscious use of his magic, it heightened his senses, making him vastly more aware of the hazards around him, keeping him more stable on the rocking boat decks, things like that. He was almost unaware that it helped him, guided him through his everyday monotony.

"Thanks Dame." Lorri whispered, staring at Harry in the way she did when she had a thought about him. When something clued her in that there was something different about Damien Evans, and not just the fact that he was more brooding than any other man she knew. She would never be able to put her finger on just what separated him from the rest, try as she might.

The boy had a troubled past, that much she knew for certain. One look at his muscled and scarred body would be enough to tell anybody that.

"Let's get back to the harbour before this storm really kicks up." She stated, still puzzling over Damien's current empty expression, watching him as he stared, unblinking out into the gloomy grey abyss in front of them.

Harry nodded and stepped out of the wheel house again, suddenly feeling too confined in the small area. Lorri was too perceptive. Any longer with her and she might start digging into his past again. She was more subtle than the rest, but Harry was worried she would catch him off guard sooner or later, and the last thing he wanted to do was reveal anything about himself.

He walked effortlessly across the rolling deck, taking his place at the bow once again. The grey clouds in the sky grew thicker, making everything around him look like he was living in black and white, the only pops of colour came from the bright orange buoys hanging off the sides of the boat.

This was a small crab fishing boat, it's deck loaded with half a dozen iron and rope cages, prepped and ready to be lowered into the water. They were secured tightly to the side rails of the boat, if they hadn't been they would currently be skidding across the deck. A small assortment of other things littered the deck as well, creating a maze across its wet planks.

Soon, the harbour began to creep out of the haze, they were almost returned to the shore.

Harry moved quickly to untie the bright orange buoys that hung from the side of the boat, letting them dangle low enough to be positioned between the boat and the dock. Lorrie sidled up to the dock perfectly, despite the terrible weather and the waves pushing the boat in the opposite direction she wanted to go.

Harry effortlessly vaulted himself over the side of the boat, onto the slippery dock, crouching to absorb the impact, it would have been too far for a normal man to jump. He held a rope in his hand and tied the boat off to the two large capstans on the dock. He stood and waited for Lorri to shut off the engine and join him.

She lifted her leg over the side of the boat and lowered herself down the rope ladder that led to the dock. A particularly violent wave crashed into the dock at that time, sending a shudder through the boat, and causing Lorri to lose her grip, slipping off the ladder towards the murky depths below.

Harry was in front of her in the blink of an eye, his strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her back up. Her feet were already submerged in the water. He set her down on the dock and immediately let go, backing away from her a few steps. Her face was full of fright and shock, she couldn't comprehend what had just happened.

"Damien, thank you, I-" She stuttered.

Harry only snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. He stared at her for a moment longer but she didn't say anything so he turned and left.

He had not really had physical contact with anyone since that day with Draco, and the touch had sent electricity flying through his body. He felt that she was starting to care for him as a son. How had he let that happen?

As he walked away from Lorri he was assaulted with a vision, well, more of a memory of a vision, but the familiar pain still crept into his forehead and he rubbed it, squeezing his eyes shut, hoping she would not notice. She always noticed.

"Nobody you care about will ever be safe, Potter!" The voice tormented him, mocked him through his own memory.

'Who am I kidding?' Harry thought to himself as he left the harbour. 'It was silly for me to think that-' He silenced his own thoughts, forcing them to the back of his mind and locking them away. He heard Lorraine call after him, but he ignored her and picked up his pace. She called after him again and this time Harry broke into a sprint, leaving her standing in the middle of the street, desperately curious about her mysterious, brooding friend.

Harry jogged around the city, but it didn't thrill him like he thought it might. All it succeeded in doing was raising his heartbeat and putting a thin sheen of sweat over his skin. He ended up at his house. He would not go to the bar today. He needed to be as devoid of human contact as possible right now.

He entered the home and leaned on the door as he shut it behind him. He slammed his head back on the door. "Fuck!" This situation was not working out like he had hoped it would. It's not like he was becoming attached or anything, far from it, but this place was not taking his mind away from the things he wished to escape most. If anything, his memories, the visions that plagued him both night and day, seemed to be thriving here, sustaining themselves on the depressing landscape, the cold weather, the cool company.

He pushed himself away from the door angrily, pushing his wet hair off his forehead, something that had been happening a lot since arriving here. He unstrapped the magnum from his hip, re-appearing as it left his hand and landed on the couch. Two large knives sat encased beside it, a new addition. He never went anywhere without them.

He stalked to his bathroom, pulling his wet shirt off and grabbing a towel, rubbing his hair down. He draped the towel over his shoulders as he kicked off his boots and left for the kitchen.

The wound on Harry's side had finally ceased to be tender, the shiny white flesh finally hardening into the permanent form of yet another scar. He rubbed it absently, as though he could still feel where Draco's fingers had grazed it, attempting to help him. A small flash of a smile almost flitted onto Harry's features but he caught it and banished it before it could manifest itself.

He grabbed whatever bottle was closest to him on the counter and returned to the living room, lowering himself down on the couch. He was truly exhausted and if he was to get any sleep today, this was the way it was going to happen.

He turned the television on as he sat back against the couch. Lorraine had made him buy it, advising him that there wasn't much else to do in this town. He silently thanked her for it in that moment, it gave him background noise, something to help filter out his own thoughts. He stopped on a sports game, American football by the look of it.

He leaned his head back on the armrest and unscrewed the lid of the bottle, tipping it back to meet his waiting lips. What remained in the bottle was quickly gone, as was Harry's consciousness. For now his mind was momentarily black, nothing invaded his mind here, nothing ever did, for a while anyway. They always came back. Always.

Somewhere around the time that Harry still slept, his blackness transitioning to his ever-present nightmares, his front door clicked open quietly. Harry's left arm lay over his eyes, his right hung off the edge of the couch, the empty bottle clutched lightly in his fingers. He didn't stir.

The door opened fully, revealing Lorri. She peeked around the door, that did technically belong to her, for any sign that the mysterious dark haired man had been alerted to her entrance. She caught sight of him passed out on the couch and relaxed. He most definitely did not know she was here.

She wandered over to him slowly, taking care not to step on the boards she knew were squeaky. She looked solemnly down at him, unable to see his face due to his arm covering it. His chest rose deeply, evenly, he was certainly fully asleep.

She glanced around the room, he had not added anything to it in the nearly two months he had lived here, like he felt he didn't belong, like he didn't plan on staying. Her eyes caught a glimpse of black and silver laying on the coffee table and she drew closer to see what it was. She barely suppressed a loud gasp as she recognized the large gun and knives.

She didn't know what possessed her to do it, but she instinctively reached out to touch them, her fingertips only millimetres from its surface, when a strong hand clamped itself around her wrist. She immediately tried to pull her hand back, but it was locked tightly. She hadn't even heard him stir. Her gaze flew to meet his and she instantly regretted entering the house without his knowledge. Damien's cool green eyes bored into her, no trace of sleep or confusion present in their intense stare.

"Damien, I'm sorry, please-"

Harry sat up, pushing her away and dropping her hand all in one motion. "What the fuck are you doing here, Lorri?" He asked darkly, resting his elbows on his knees. Their eyes were still connected, she was frozen in place.

"Damien, I-"

Harry stood from the couch and Lorraine found herself to be intimidated by the man for the first time. She had never found his appearance frightening until this moment. His scars stood out prominently from the rippling muscles upon which they sat. She didn't want to know how he'd gotten them, afraid of the response he would give her. He broke their gaze, picking up the holster and turning away.

With the absence of his stare, another thought entered her head, perhaps his scars weren't signs of his strength, trophies earned in bar fights or backyard brawls. Perhaps they were the scars of something that ran much deeper, a tour of duty overseas perhaps. She could think of nothing else that would scar this man so, both internally and externally.

Though he held a gun in his hand, she followed him as he walked away from her. "I'm not blind, you know." She stated plainly, but the words had come out of her mouth harsher than she had intended and she regretted it immediately.

"Excuse me?" Harry spun to face her, a disbelieving expression on his face. Had she really just said that? He tossed the holster down on the armchair nearest to the entrance of his bedroom. He strode closer to her again. "Care to explain what in the fuck you mean by that?"

Lorraine fought with herself whether to be cautious around this man or just to come straight out and say what she felt. She had never been one to hold her opinions in and this time was no different. She was used to dealing with the brutish, crude fisherman type who ruled this town.

"You're in pain, Damien, that's what!" She burst out. "You might think the people around you don't notice, but we do! How could we not! You come halfway around the world to start a new life, but you don't talk to anybody! You drink gallons in the bar every day and you certainly don't seem any happier. I don't think there's a single person here who's seen you smile, or crack a joke, or try and talk to a pretty girl. You're not alive, Damien. I see you. Let me help you. Just trust me."

Harry had let her vent. As she spoke those last words, Harry pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes as he was bombarded by two separate memories, two occasions where those exact words had been spoken to him.

Draco stood his ground and didn't move. "Let me help you." His voice was full of emotion.

Placing his fingers gently on Harry's neck to feel for a pulse, he leaned his head close to Harry's. "Don't move. I know you're alive. You've saved many lives and I'm sure you're bound to save more, but right now there's nothing you can do. Just trust me. Let me save you."

The grey eyes seared into his soul, just as they had at the time the words were spoken. Harry snapped himself out of it before any more unwanted memories could assault him.

He had only been unaware for less than ten seconds, but when his eyes refocused on the real world around him, Lorraine was standing directly in front of him, her arms reaching out, unsure of whether to touch him, to try and bring him out of his trance.

He stepped back from her, almost stumbling over his feet. The piercing grey eyes still lingered in his line of vision. They followed him wherever he looked. He blinked frantically, but they would not disappear. "Leave me alone." He ordered, but his voice was not as strong as he thought, and Lorraine was no longer intimidated by the broken and haunted man who stood before her.

"I don't understand you, Dame." She called out softly to him as he retreated to the kitchen. She heard his bitter laugh carry through the open house. "The boys at the bar are starting to talk about you." She changed the topic. "None of them trust you. I think they're up to something. I don't want to see you get hurt."

"Good." He emerged from the kitchen, another bottle in his hand. "They shouldn't trust me. You shouldn't trust me either. It's more trouble than it's worth." The second half of her comment seemed to register with Harry. "You're worried about me getting hurt?" He gestured to the gun that sat on his armchair. "I wouldn't worry about me. Look at me, I've been hurt before. The good thing about getting hurt is that you always come out stronger." He laughed, taking a sip from the bottle. "Don't trust me. Nothing good has ever come out of anybody trusting me. Be sure to tell the boys too. Now, I think it's about time you left, don't you."

The intimidating fire was returning to Harry's eyes and Lorraine could not think of any reason to convince herself to stay. She nodded and turned, heading for the door quickly and silently.

"Oh, and Lorri," she looked back over at her shoulder at Harry as he spoke, "don't ever come here again without my permission. You were very lucky tonight. Next time, I won't hesitate."

"H-hesitate? Hesitate to what, kill me?" She joked, not knowing why she said it, only trying to break the tension. Harry's face stayed dead-pan serious.

Lorraine knew that he was right. She had been very lucky to come away from this meeting completely unscathed. She nodded and hurried out, desperate to separate herself from the situation.

Lorraine fought to hold back the sobs as she practically ran down the street away from Damien's house. She thought his name fitting now, as she glanced a peek at his true nature. All the new information about the young man still did not dissuade her from pitying him. He needed help, serious help. He was obviously suffering from some sort of post-traumatic stress and was entirely unwilling to address it. She had seen the way he pushed back his memories, she was sure that's what he had been doing. This young boy had seen more in his short lifetime than most ever would in their entire lives.

She resolved to keep the events of this night to herself, nobody else could ever know. She would do anything she could to help him, even keeping the knowledge of his dangerous, violent tendencies away from the rest of the town. She would still support him. She would see him set right.

Harry came upon a stroke of luck that night. He had once again drank himself into unconsciousness after Lorraine had left him. His mind grew fuzzy as he wandered around the house, outbursts of rage springing out of him. Chairs were kicked, tables overturned, and somewhere deep down inside, this satisfied him, made him at least feel something. He craved so badly to feel, but he couldn't, he had to remain numb, he wouldn't be able to survive any other way.

He wasn't strong enough to feel. Not anymore.

His dreams shifted that night for the first time in weeks, and he could almost call them relaxing, a refreshing change from the constant visions of Draco, the dreams of their encounter. The taste of his lips, the feel of his hard body pressed up against his own. He was spared this torture tonight, replaced instead by the familiar dead faces of all those he had lost. Scenes replaying in his mind of their deaths, the battles leading to their demise.

It was a million times better than seeing Draco. He would take this. With these dreams there was no possibility of a future, no chance to make a choice that would change their lives, or his.