AUTHOR'S NOTE: So... yeah. I know. Jason, man. Right? But look, look. I have everything under control. So, I originally wrote this chapter about 3 days ago and it's been bugging me ever since. It was originally from another character's POV, contained entirely different information, and it was... too much. It was unbelieveable (Yes. I said it. A story about vampires that exist in a small Texas town and basically hold the entire town hostage had a chapter in it that was unbelieveable). It wasn't the info, it just was... too much, too fast, too soon. So I'm rewriting this chapter now, fresh and clean. By the way, for those of you interested, I'll be posting another story (just a one shot) involving Doctor Daybourne and Myrnin. Not a lot to do with this storyline (which is why it's going down as an entirely different story) but it will take place just before this story began, the night of Myrnin's funeral. Anyway, I hope you read, I hope you enjoy, I hope you review/fav/follow. Much love! ~ Billie

HANNAH

I couldn't believe I had agreed to this. I sat in the back of an old cadillac with a grievously injured young girl's head resting in my lap. I didn't want to be doing this. I'd gone away, I'd done my duty as an American citizen and I'd fought the good fight. When I was discharged, I'd come home to a town that I knew involved fighting, but I had convinced myself it was a different kind of fighting. That had been a lie. I'd been to war, and I'd come home to war. Holding the girl gently in my arms, I didn't question it. She was just as much a victim of war as anyone I had met overseas. I stared out the window at the town I knew and kind of loved. I was tired of war. I was tired of fighting an uphill battle. I was just plain tired.

I looked at the two men sitting in the front seat. Shane Collins, so damn young and so damn angry. He knew he was a dead man walking - he had been since he'd been born. And yet he just kept going and going. It wouldn't be long now. It wouldn't be long for any of us. And as much as I hated his rash, impulsive behaviors, I admired his tenacity. He never stopped, he never really slowed down, unless it was to get a kiss from Claire. He kept fighting against all the things he thought were wrong in life - himself included. It would be sad when he died. But he would. We all would, sooner or later. And, judging by the state of the town, I was going to bet on the former. Still, if he could keep going, I could, too.

Except I didn't want to. I wanted to go back home. I wanted to lay down in my bed and stare at the ceiling and talk to Richard. I did that when I was alone. I wasn't foolish enough to believe he could hear me, but there had been so many stories we'd never gotten to share. So many thoughts and dreams only just realized - gone in an instant. I'd seen death in my life - more than my fair share of it. I didn't want to see any more.

Until Shane had shown up this morning, I had been ready to just lay down and wait to die. I was still tempted to do exactly that. I'd given up my position as chief of police. I'd given up on everything that had ever meant anything to me. I hated humans and vampires alike now. I hated the fact that I was alive and Richard was dead. What good was life without love?

I closed my eyes as we passed the old Morrell estate, now up for sale to the highest bidder, if what Shane had told me was true. I didn't care. After Richard's death, after things calmed down - before they got crazy again - I had contacted Monica and requested a few minor items from her of Richard's. Nothing that was worth anything monetarily, but things that had meant something to me. To us. Books he had read to me as we lay curled up in his bed, magazines we had flipped through together. His watch. A few of his shirts that he'd loved watching me walk around in as we made breakfast together. She'd been more than willing to oblige me. Monica wasn't the girl she'd been before Richard's death. She was far more human now.

And I was far less.

I wasn't surprised when we drove up to Glass House. I didn't expect us to pass it, then turn the corner and drive up into the back yard. I also didn't expect us to park in the shed out back. It was an incredibly tight fit, but we got it in and we got out. Carefully, Shane lead us to the back door, opening it swiftly and gesturing for us all to enter. I carried the girl, Daphne, into the house. When it clicked behind us, we all breathed a sigh of relief.

"We can't stay here long," Shane said. "We just had to come here to ditch the car and grab weapons and reinforcements. Claire! Michael! Eve!"

Silence. Daphne groaned and shifted in my arms. Her breathing seemed irregular. She was feverish. She needed medical assistance. And soon. I shifted her weight in my arms as Shane continued to call for his roommates. I didn't have the heart to tell him I didn't think they were here. He'd put it together himself in a few minutes.

I glanced back down at Daphne. I didn't think she could wait for Shane to realize the situation. "Shane. We need to get her some help. Serious medical help. Or she's going to die."

Shane and the man who had driven the car both turned back to me worried. "But she's breathing," the man said, "And her heart's beating."

I shook my head. "She's getting weaker," I replied. "I think she must have internal damage."

I'd seen it before in my time as a soldier. Someone gets hurt, but they don't think it's that bad. They keep going - don't get checked by a medic. They're fine as long as they're moving. And then they lay down, and that rib, the one they fractured but didn't know they'd fractured, it moves. Just barely, but it moves. And suddenly, they're gone. Drowning in their own blood. It could have happened back when she was attacked. It could have happened when we got out of the car - it had involved a large amount of maneuvering. But either way, Daphne's time seemed to be running out.

The two men in front of me just stared. "Collins. Think. We need help and we need it now. I won't have another innocent person die in my arms!"

I hadn't realized I was yelling. I hadn't realized I was crying. But I was doing both. The voice that came out of me didn't sound like me. I had always been good in an emergency. I had been lauded for it in the army. It had gotten me my position as chief of police here in Morganville. I didn't lose myself in the moment. I waited. I had always waited until I was alone to show my weakness. I couldn't wait anymore.

The shock of me losing it was enough to make Shane jump into action. He turned, running through the kitchen and living room to the foyer. I followed him. There, he threw open the front door and gestured to a newly built house across the street.

"Go!" He said forcefully, as if I would need to be persuaded. "We'll be there when we can. Don't let her die."

I ran, my long legs carrying me across the yard and into the street in a few powerful strides. I may have let my training lapse these past few months, but my body knew action. My legs knew how to run as easily as my lungs knew how to breathe. I was born to move. And move I did.

I was on the front porch of the house in seconds, my elbow pressed to the buzzer. The only reply I received was, "Basement." Then the door unlocked and I was in. I sprinted toward an open doorway, took the stairs down, and stopped. A woman I'd never seen before was pulling on a pair of surgical gloves. Myrnin, Morganville's resident mad scientist was throwing a sheet over what looked like an autopsy table. And in the corner, a girl was pulling out medical equipment. Myrnin took Daphne from my arms as she moaned pitifully and gasped for air.

The girl turned to face me and I had to look twice before I recognized her. Dressed in cheap clothes and make up free, she barely resembled the Monica Morrell I had known all of her life. She shot me a look of fear and then turned back to the makeshift surgery suite, where Myrnin and the red-headed woman were consulting one another about heart rate, blood pressure, and oxygen saturation.

I just couldn't do this. I wasn't ready. I had told Shane I would fight beside him, but he didn't understand. I couldn't do it any more. All of the bravery I had, all of the strength I had always shown - it had all left me when Richard breathed his last. I was broken. I was weak. I was useless. I sat down on a lab stool near the door, put my head in my hands, and cried.