Really had no intentions of uploading a chapter until tomorrow but ultimately decided that, since I have more chapters than I know what to do with, I might as well. Hope you enjoy it!

Raven's POV

Several days after everything: waking up in Wick's living room, him helping unstrap her brace, her staying just because…the after affects leave her mind reeling. A series of things had taken place that day that she had never intended to let happen. She didn't like the idea of having slept on his couch for hours on end. She despised the memory of his face as he took in her vulnerable position and the grimace that comprised her face. She abhorred the way she fell back and let him help her out of her brace. She cringed at the idea of sitting next to him, brace off, carrying on with conversations and jokes and laughter. As if he was her friend. As if she wanted him to be.

The thought she grappled with the most was that maybe she did. After all this time of being alone she had grown weary. Being alone wasn't what anyone wanted. Pretending only got you through for so long. Being alone was hard. It was harder than dealing with her leg or fighting with her mother. It was a weight that never lessened, only grew.

At the same time, it was what she needed. She may want companionship. But she needed to remind herself that she was fine on her own. Not because of Finn, god she was so tired of everything being about Finn, and not because of her mother either. It was because there had once been a point in her life when she didn't know if she could. So much like she built a rocket in a portion of an abandoned hospital to prove that she was capable, she now stood all on her own.

Every struggle was another chance to convince herself that she was capable. Every bad day was one more opportunity to attest to the world itself that Raven Reyes was not going to lie down and take anymore bullshit. Nor was she going to ask someone to help her up.

Sometimes she had no choice but to remind herself of this. There were nights when she had to look back and recall all that she had lived through and use that knowledge to continue to fight for her future. She didn't want to lean on anyone else. The last time she'd done that she'd fallen so hard she never knew if she was going to get back up again. It was the sort of fear that left her paralysed. Unfortunately that metaphor was more literal than she'd ever hoped.

Raven was well aware of what Wick wanted. She saw the way he looked at her. She knew what it meant when boys drove you home and found ways to talk to you. She was protective, not stupid.

Maybe that meant that she should put an end to it. There would be no easier way to shut him down than to just say, "Never gonna happen," and then leave it at that. It could be that she liked the attention. Or that she wanted to fool herself into believing there was any chance something could happen. Having him there to help her out of her brace, it was humiliating and terrible, but it also had left her with a flood of relief washing through her very bones. It felt like she wasn't alone in this damn injury for the first time since it had happened.

It would be hard to forget the way Finn used to look at her after she woke up in the hospital. The first time she saw she had flaws had been through his eyes. She never managed to look it in any other way since then. A piece of her was missing. Still there, but so useless it might as well just be gone.

Much like everything else in her life, she clung to it regardless.

Her feeble friendship was more of the same. Her false hope clinging on so hard it'd just leave her with more marks down the road.

So she does what she can not to think about Tuesday. Raven doesn't think about the warmth of Wick's truck cabin as she walks from one job to the next in the early morning. She doesn't think about his soft couch and subpar pancakes as she hides in her bedroom at night, stomach growling.

The excitement for more- more time, more safety, more him- she pushes it down. Instead she reminds herself that she's made a mistake. She forces the knowledge that she's being foolish and careless and when it comes back to bite her, it's her own damn fault. It was disappointment waiting to happen. She was determined to revel in everything that took place before the tragic end.

Tuesday morning eventually rolls around, after many sleepless nights and tireless days. Raven wakes up with the help of no alarm and even does a full rotation of her leg exercises. She hardly wanted another embarrassing removal of her brace again.

She quietly eats a somewhat bruised apple as she watches out the window for his green truck. Her eyes flit back to her mother's bedroom door every few minutes. Raven was hopeful to leave before her mother woke up. Mornings were generally rough. Then again, so were nights.

Drumming her fingers nervously on the table, Raven sits down, stretching her leg out in front of her and trying to tamper down the feeling that kept climbing its way up. The idea that he's forgotten flashes through her mind. How stupid would she feel if she sat her for the next two hours without him ever showing up? It had been stupid of them not to set a time. There, of course, was no way to rectify that now.

Her heart beats a little faster when she hears a car approaching. It's not his truck. She stumbles up from the table, her feet unsteady and her movements too dramatic. It knocks the chair off balance but she grabs it before it falls.

She was losing her mind, sitting at a kitchen table hoping for someone to drive around the corner. It was unlikely he even remembered. It was silly that she had fixated. She's ready to stumble back off to her room, rip off the stupid brace and get back in bed. She hardly ever had a day off like this. She shouldn't be spending it helping someone she barely knew anyway.

Before she can get anywhere, her mom's bedroom door opens. Raven freezes. Her eyes betray her and scan outside of the window once again. Of course there was no one there.

"Raven is that you?" her mother calls out, stumbling her way out to the kitchen and blocking the sunlight with her hand. "Why are the fucking curtains open?" she asks which translates to, close them. Raven doesn't waste a second.

She also doesn't miss the sound of a glass being set on the countertop or the sound of a drink being poured. Somehow she doubted it was orange juice. "Aren't you working today?" her mother complains, placing the bottle of amber liquid back in the cupboard.

"I-" Raven starts and then pauses. She didn't really know the answer. "I'm helping fix a friend's car." Or at least she was supposed to. She considers throwing her coat on and pretending to her mother that she was walking there. She could hide out in the library or maybe visit Octavia.

Her mother sets her glass down with a little too much force. Raven jumps without meaning to. "That's not going to pay the bills, now is it?" she asks, eyes shifting around the house as if looking for a visual representation of the bills she was referencing. Then she stops and picks up her glass again. "You know I want you to be happy, Raven, but you have to think about these things."

"I know," she mumbles. The anger bubbles but the guilt stomps it down. "I have some extra overtime on my check from the hospital."

Her mom smiles, it's sweet and loving as the harsh lines soften. "That's my girl," she kisses Raven's cheek. Raven turns away from the scent of alcohol falling past her lips.

A knock on the door makes her jump. "That's my friend," Raven says, angling her body in front of the door to prevent her mother from getting to it. "I'll be home before work tonight, okay?"

"Don't be rude," her mom says, tone harsh as she tries to reach past Raven. "Invite your friend in, offer her a drink."

"We need to go," she breathes out, not bothering to try and grab her lightweight jacket as she twists to open the door. She slides outside and shuts the door in one fluid motion, keeping her hand tight on the doorknob to prevent it from opening again. "Hey, let's go."

"Aren't you freezing?" Wick asks, not fucking moving.

"Let's go," she says again, her voice low and almost pleading as she looks to his truck. He turns and she releases the doorknob once he's already a few steps away. Of course it immediately flies open.

"I didn't raise you to be rude," her mother spits out as she comes stumbling through the door. The damn glass is still clasped in her hand and her bathrobe hangs loosely on her frame.

Raven sighs, casting Wick a desperate look as she turns back to her mom. "He doesn't have time to come in. Please," she begs, hanging her head in defeat. "Just go back inside."

"You failed to mention your friend here was a boy, sweetie," she states, her glazed over stare now on Wick. "And his truck seems to be running just fine."

The anxiety climbs, her embarrassment revelled by the immediate panic of the situation. "Mom, just go back inside the house."

"Are you worried if he sees the dump we live in he won't sleep with you anymore?" she asks and even though the claim is ridiculous Raven's face still flushes red. "If some man is going to judge where you live then he isn't worth your time. I've had plenty of men over now, haven't I, Raven?"

She has all sorts of biting comments about the winners brought into their home. Of the great men she'd seen and felt and hid from. Her heart beats even faster at just the thought of all those glorious, non-judgemental men filling her house. "Go inside," she says instead, her voice thick with tears that keep rising without her consent. "I'm leaving."

There are no words or movements for so long. Raven waits for someone to make a move; even if it was the earth itself to just swallow her whole, but nothing happens. She turns to leave, moving too quickly down the three steps that led to the ground and stumbling slightly. She sees the way Wick goes to move towards her but once she's balanced again he backs off, getting into the truck and turning the engine over. "Go in the house and close the door," Raven directs before opening the door for the truck. "You'll freeze out here."

She doesn't stand around to watch and see if her mom listens. She swings open the door and climbs in the truck. Wick doesn't wait to drive away. She's glad when she turns around and finds no one standing on the front step to her trailer.

"Raven…" he starts, all quiet, sympathetic voice.

"Shut the hell up, Wick," she demands before he can even get started. She had been embarrassed. The things she worked so hard to keep tightly locked away were beginning to pop out. That was why people didn't come to her house. There was a reason she hadn't ever wanted him to drive anywhere near there.

"I'm sorry," he says without any explanation. He utters those two simple, useless words and then he stops talking.

Raven doesn't know what to do with them. They just repeat in her head as she stares out the window. She was sorry too.

They get to his place and she tells him to park where she can work on his truck. "I don't need to go inside for anything." She crushes the possibility before it could even begin grow.

It's freezing out and with no coat she's shivering before she's swung the door all the way open."I'll go get my tools," Wick tells her and she nods, crossing her arms and tucking her hands into her armpits for some form of warmth.

For a brief moment she considers just walking away. She couldn't run, oh how she wishes she could, but she was at least still able to walk. It'd be easy; she could disappear back to the main road before he made it back down. He might come after her but she could just duck into the pharmacy up the street.

Hiding was her instinct. Sticking around was what got her into trouble.

He's back before Raven's taken a single step to get away.

There's more than just tools in his hands. There's a puffy red jacket and a thermos and a plastic bag. "I know engineers sometime lack basic knowledge of how mechanics work, but this is a little sad, even for you."

"You'll freeze your ass off like that," he says with a gesture to her jeans and thin shirt. "I'm not going to be responsible for you catching double pneumonia."

They stare off for a minute before she caves. It was freezing after all. She takes the jacket first; half tempted to shove her hands in the pockets once she's got it on. Fighting the urge she reaches out and takes the other items instead.

"Here's the oil filter and stuff," he says offering the plastic bag out to her.

"Great," she mumbles. "Put the stuff over there." He does as she instructs and she sets the thermos on the ground as well. She pulls up the hood of the truck and props it open, taking a look at what she was working with. It was always a bit of a puzzle. Always made up with the same basic parts but every vehicle had their own nuances. The trick was finding out exactly how it would all piece together.

Her focus is solely on the work in front of her but she can still feel him hovering. He was far enough away that he wasn't technically leaning over her shoulder but close enough that she could sense his presence with the way her hairs seemed to stand on end. "Can I help you?" she asks. She couldn't spin to face him; her stupid leg prevented the most trivial of things. She turns arduously instead.

"I'm not just going to leave you out here," he says, as if the idea was ludicrous. "I can help, after all."

"I don't do help," she argues immediately. It's not that she intends for her tone to be so sharp, but she doesn't necessarily mind that it is. "I'll come get you when I'm done."

"I'm good," he says, infuriating her further. "I'll just watch."

"Wick-" she's ready to just cuss him out, send him away out of anger and frustration and humiliation. "Just go away."

"It's freezing out here," he responds, as if that's any form of reason.

"All the more motivation for going inside," she tells him, turning back to the exposed engine of his car. She could feel the tears welling and she loathed them. It was one thing when the sprung to her eyes from the sharp sting of pain. It was another when it was just her weak heart, tired after so many beatings.

He still doesn't budge. His hand comes up to rest on her shoulder after a minute. She wonders if the way her eyes are watering is noticed. "I'm not just going to leave you alone."

She hates him for that statement. She doesn't care what capacity it's being said in. She doesn't care if he means right now in the icy chill or in general. The words burn in all the wrong ways, devouring alive her protective shields and wearing down her defences. Who was he to make such claims? "Get the hell away, Wick," she warns, her tone low. "I don't want you here. Okay?"

"Maybe you don't want anyone but-"

If she could she would turn so dramatically it would leave him knocked off his feet. Instead she's forced once again to take small steps to turn her body to face him. "I'm here to do a job," she reminds him. He was taller than her, so many inches above her short stature, but she stands tall and she feels as though she can tower above him. "You are not my friend. You are not some knight in shining armour or the light at the end of the goddamn tunnel. Give up your romantic notions and get the fuck away from me."

Her jaw clicks. His breaths come faster. "I'll be inside when you're done," he says quietly and turns away from her.

Once he's gone inside the building she picks up the closest thing she can find and throws it as hard as she can, the tool making a satisfying sound as metal hits blacktop.

Desire is trumped by mortification.

Mortification is trumped by anger.

And in the end, anger is trumped by sadness.

Her tears spill onto the exposed engine beneath her. She lets them.