COTTON CRUSH!

[LESLIE DEVON]

WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE RUNNING ROUND LEAVING SCARS

CLICK FOR OUTFIT

---

Birthdays. She wasn't a fan of the celebration part, though she liked them nonetheless. It was one of their coworker's birthday party and he had managed to convince everyone to go to the club for the night in celebration. He said to dress extremely nice because, well, he probably never saw them in anything but the most casual of clothing and their uniforms. That and he had jokingly said he wanted to see how Leslie cleaned up. She just rolled her eyes. It had been a couple days since she'd had that talk with Dylan and everything replayed constantly in her mind. She pushed it off to the side, though, and concentrated on the task at hand. Her wardrobe. She bit her lower lip as she took the time to get ready, her blonde hair playfully let down and, look at that, she put on makeup. It wasn't much though. Just some mascara and nude lipstick, some blush. She didn't want to overdo anything. She put on a slip dress that reached just above her mid thigh so she wouldn't look like a slut. Slipping on her heels, she looked in the mirror and frowned at the large scar on her shoulder. Grabbing a leather shrug, she slipped that on. Her outfit hugged her new found curves and after putting on her jewelry and grabbing her keys and clutch, she was good to go. Leslie looked drop dead gorgeous...but she wouldn't know it if it smacked her in the face.

Getting into the cab, she was there in about ten minutes because of the light traffic and she was glad the bouncer easily let her in. Once inside, the place was already full of people dancing and laughing, having a good time. Once she said happy birthday to the birthday boy, who's jaw dropped at the sight of her, she felt more at ease that she hadn't overdressed since everyone was wearing suits and looking fantastic. They all looked so sharp! She wished they would wear clothing like that to work...Her bright blue eyes scanned the club for Dylan considering she'd rather not get bombarded with questions from guys at work and, not spotting him, headed to the bar. Taking a seat, she crossed one smooth leg over the other and order a simply Malibu in coke just because it was light, fruity, and she would not get wasted off of it. She felt odd. She hadn't seen Dylan by the station that morning but she was sure he would be here tonight. Open bar after all.

It was then as she sipped her drink, that someone she'd never seen before in her life sat down next to her and offered her a smile and a drink, "Open bar," she chuckled and he laughed and winked at her. She was a bit taken aback than anyone would so boldly speak to her-not knowing who she was or even her name but as the hour ticked by, she found herself laughing right along with him at his silly corny jokes and blushing at that award winning smile of his. He was handsome, tall with thick dark hair he ran his fingers through every now and again, and smoldering hazel eyes. By the time the hour had passed, she had consumed a total of five drinks that he had ordered for her and she was definitely feeling the effects of it, though not drunk. She normally only drank beer for this was a change of pace completely for her. Then his hand was on her leg and she hadn't even noticed when it got there as they leaned in closer to each other, laughing at a goofy face she made to describe what she used to look like because he'd said she must have been gorgeous her entire life and she had denied it completely.

"So what's your name, officer..." he smirked at her and she chuckled. He had introduced himself earlier. What was his name? She remembered he was Greek...Mario was it? Whatever, "Oh! I'm sorry, I'm Leslie," she smiled at him calling her officer. She felt like a stupid little school girl. She wasn't used to getting this type of attention and she knew she was being a major dork about the whole thing but he seemed to like it...and she hadn't noticed some of the other guys were looking at her and starting to make bets on whether she'd go home with him or not. He opened his mouth to say something but it was then her eyes landed on Dylan and her slight smile turned into a large and silly grin at the sight of him. She shouldn't have drank this much. She wasn't drunk. No, but she knew if she finished two more drinks she would be.

COLLECTING YOUR JAR OF HEARTS AND TEARING LOVE APART

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[graeson]

He knew that she had wanted him to open up to her that day but he just hadn't been able to bring himself to do it. He had acted normally around her since then, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that his mind was whirling after what he had done and after what he had said. Sighing softly to himself as he stood in the bedroom of his small apartment, he stared across at his reflection. He really looked like shit and he just didn't know how to fix this. It wasn't like he was a woman. He couldn't hide the dark circles under his eyes with make up, or fill in the paleness of his face with blush. Thankfully the club would be dark so maybe they wouldn't pay attention to that. However, he needed to invest in a fat suit or something in all seriousness. The weight that he had been losing was dropping off of him and he couldn't even stop it. He stood in front of the mirror shirtless and he could see his ribs while just standing still. He could count every single one of them, and for a moment he trailed his fingers over them. What was he doing to himself? This wasn't healthy.

Shaking his head, Dylan grew angry with himself and pulled the pair of jeans on. His co-worker had told him to wear a suit, but that wasn't going to happen. He'd compromise because Dylan didn't wear suits unless he had to. He hated wearing those. They were constricting and way too formal for him. So he settled for a pair of nice jeans, a button up and a black blazer. The blazer dressed it all up, and as he pulled it on over the grey button up he felt dressed up. This was good enough. His buzz cut allowed him to not spend any time on his hair and he just ran his hands over his head. Well, he was ready. He shoved his wallet into his back pocket and his cellphone went into his front one. Tightening his belt as he put that on, he took the last swig of beer from his seventh beverage of the evening and then locked his apartment door behind him, shoving his keys in his pocket as well. Making his way down the stairs, he hailed a cab and told him the address of the night club. Why they had to meet at a night club he just didn't understand. Shaking his head in disbelief as the cab pulled up alongside it, he paid the driver and got out, trying not to stumble as he approached. He wanted to get a beer first before seeing anyone so that they wouldn't smell the beer on his breath and wonder what was going on with him. Stopping at the bar, he caught glances from the single women perched on the stools but ignored them. He didn't even want to get involved with them tonight, which was totally unlike him. He ordered a bud light to disguise his breath and took a long swig of it. Feeling ready now, he steeled himself and gazed around with his clouded blue eyes. Seeing the group of officers, he approached them slowly.

He did his best not to stumble on the way over and as he saw the birthday boy, he clasped his hand and wished him well. He was made fun of for not wearing a suit like all of the others, but Graeson just brushed it off. "I couldn't upstage all of you guys. Really. That wouldn't be fair. Happy birthday man." He said and then got turned around where he stood. Someone was pointing to the bar and saying Leslie's name. Furrowing his brow, he searched the crowded area and saw her familiar blonde hair. She looked...well she looked absolutely gorgeous. His jaw dropped for a moment before he recovered himself by drinking another beer. All through the night he kept his eye on that situation, and all through the night he kept feeding himself beer to keep himself occupied. When he saw the man's hand go for Leslie's leg, Graeson knew what that meant. Growing angry and frustrated, he excused himself from the club. He didn't want to make a scene and he knew he was drunker than he'd ever been. Going purposefully to the bar, he smacked down his empty bottle and ordered another, pushing heavily into the guy that was talking to Leslie. Downing it on spot, he glared heatedly at the guy and then looked at Leslie, shaking his head. "What a keeper." He said, jerking his finger at the man sitting next to her. Shoving his way by, he stumbled out, heading straight to his apartment.

He walked there this time since it really wasn't that far away. It took him about twenty minutes to get there, and he staggered up the stairs and fell into his own door. Getting his keys out of his pocket, he swayed back and forth as he tried finding the right key. "God fuck..what the fuck.." He said, his speech more slurred than it had ever been. Finding the right key, he shoved it into the lock and let himself in, slamming the door behind him. He didn't care who he woke up because he could really care less. She was all over that guy. All over. Really? Why? Hadn't he shown interest in her that day? Did it mean nothing to her? He wanted to be with her and what else did he have to do to show her that? He certainly wasn't going to throw himself at her feet. Shaking his head, he left the door unlocked and went to his kitchen, searching the cabinets for the alcohol bottles he knew were hidden there. He could still feel. He didn't want to feel anymore. Grabbing the half empty vodka bottle, he slid down his cabinets so he was sitting in the corner of the kitchen and downed the vodka. This was it. This is what he needed the most. More than anything.

TAG - DEVON and DYLAN
WORDS - 1058
NOTES - Wearing THIS
TUNES - devil in a midnight mass , billy talent.
CREDIT - template by MUNZTAR * of caution 2.0

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[LESLIE DEVON]

WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE RUNNING ROUND LEAVING SCARS

CLICK FOR OUTFIT

---

When she saw the look on Dylan's face as he was walking over, her eyebrows furrowed together and her smile slowly turned into a look of confusion. He looked pissed. He shouldn't be-if she wanted to talk to someone she could. He wasn't her boyfriend and it wasn't like she was going to go home with the guy. She wasn't like that-she never had been considering she'd only ever slept with one guy her entire life and he was walking over to the two of them with this fierce and stubborn determination in his eyes. Soon enough, the beer was slammed onto the counter, he was pointing fingers, slurring something about him being a keeper and then walking right on out. The guy looked back at him incredulously and then back at Devon as if waiting for an explanation. She opened her mouth to say something but she realized she had no idea what to say. She hesitated as to whether she should go after him or continue with the new guy. Anger was slowly starting to boil up within her and she grabbed a napkin and asked him for a pen before writing down her number and sliding it over to him with a sweet grin to mask the fury that was raging within her at Dylan's behavior, "Call me, yeah?" he seemed to smile triumphantly as if Dylan never happened-or had helped him win her over, "I'll see you," and she leaned in and placed a kiss on his cheek before she grabbed her clutch off the counter and was out the door. There was no way she was going to walk in those large heels over to where he lived. Hailing a cab, she made it to his place in about twenty five minutes, almost half an hour since she'd been looking for him first.

Once there,though, she practically broke his door down, slamming it shut behind her, "Dylan! What tha fuck was that?!" she yelled out in frustration, "For once someone just looks at me that way and you try to ruin it for me? What is wrong with you?" she was yelling out at the apartment as she started looking for him and eventually found him on the kitchen floor nursing another bottle of alcohol. Without a second thought, she yanked the bottle out of his hand, opened the window, and tossed it out without caring how much any of it would cost him. Then she was opening all his cabinets, searching for the obvious hiding spots and the not so obvious hiding spots. Her father was an alcoholic. She knew the drill-they were practically a species, "Why can't you just stop," she was so frustrated her voice was no longer as loud as it had been and she was grabbing all the bottles and gathering them up into a black bag she found in one of the drawers. She moved around the kitchen in silent fury and once she was sure she had all of them, she struggled a bit only because her dress was so tight and her heels a bit too tall, and managed to get it out the door and into the hallway before closing the door and locking it behind her.

Looking over at him, she locked her jaw, "You're drinking stops now," she said it firmly. She wasn't going to deal with a drunk version of Dylan...another drunk father. She couldn't handle it-not when she was only trying to get her life in order. She couldn't do that if he was drunk and messing up the way he was, "You're..." she let go the air she hadn't realized she was holding in and she sounded more desperate than pissed now-practically pleading with him, "You're going to end up just like dad..." she swallowed back the knot in her throat as she sank to the ground across from him, exhausted from the night already. Exhausted emotionally at least. This was draining her and she suddenly felt like she was a little girl again dealing with her father.

Reaching over, she grabbed his hand carefully with her own and looked down at it, how much bigger it was than her own fragile looking one, "Tell me what happened, Graeson," she hadn't called him by his first name in ages, "You need to..." she looked up at him and locked her eyes onto his. She was begging him at this point because she couldn't handle this all over again. She did it once...she thought she could do it again...but unless she wanted to put her entire life on hold-she couldn't.

COLLECTING YOUR JAR OF HEARTS AND TEARING LOVE APART

template by eliza @ shadowplay

[graeson]

What did he care if she went with home with that guy? It wasn't like he was going to lose sleep over it anyway because he didn't sleep as it was. It was a win win situation. She would be happy and he wouldn't have to worry about her getting home safely. Obviously he shouldn't be bothered. But he was. He was so bothered and he knew exactly why. He was just trying to ignore it to the best of his ability. He cared for Leslie and that scared him. He wasn't supposed to care. He was supposed to agree with what he did so long ago when he kicked her out of his apartment. This same apartment actually. Shaking his head, he chugged back another large sip of vodka and looked down at the bottle in his hands. It was almost empty and he had plenty more where this came from. And right at reaching level so he didn't even have to get up. That would be absolutely perfect! Feeling better about himself because he had his alcohol, he finished the rest of the first bottle and reached up, throwing it into the sink. He heard it shatter but didn't care at all. Reaching across, he pulled out another bottle of vodka and opened it, swigging it like water. This had to stop soon.

Suddenly his peace and quiet was interrupted and he looked up in shock as he saw her. HER? REALLY? Out of all people that could have waltzed through his apartment door it had to be her? Well she didn't really waltz. She kind of crashed through it yelling and hurting his head. Wincing as she continued yelling, he tried to shush her but suddenly she was pulling the bottle out of his hand. "H-hey! Gimme that!" His slurred words came out in a rush, and he sat back after trying to go after her, smacking the back of his head against his cabinet and not even feeling it, although there would be a lump there tomorrow. Watching her travel around his apartment opening up cabinets, he got extremely angry. "Hey! Quitit! STOP! Those are m-mine!" He slurred once more, doing his best to try to get to his feet but not succeeding in the least. This just wasn't going well at all. Getting angry with himself for not being able to stand, he sat back down in a heap and watched as she bagged all of his most valuable bottles. That was a lot of money, and he wasn't going to have any alcohol now. This was unfair. This was unnatural. Who did she think she was just coming in here and throwing all of that away. She had no right! Why couldn't he just stop? Stop what? Drinking? "Why should I?" He snapped back at her, doing his best to defend his case even though it was extremely difficult because of the trashed state that he was in. He couldn't even stand up and he had a feeling he would be losing what he had in his stomach soon enough.

Not again though. Not in front of her. Sitting still now, he watched as she continued on her angry tirade, taking it all out on his bottles of alcohol. And he had a lot of bottles. Fuming to himself now, he crossed his arms, really wishing he had some vodka to wash the nasty taste out of his mouth. Thinking that he had some beer in the fridge, he tried to stumble to his feet but came crashing back down. Just great. He wasn't crawling to the fridge. No way. Looking at her angrily, he heard her words. "Like hell it does! You don't know me!" His words weren't even making sense and it would be a miracle if the poor girl could even understand what he was saying. Watching her once more, he looked at her, trying to focus on her as she sat down in front of him. Looking down as she took his hand in hers, he glanced back up, having trouble focusing on her face because of his swimming vision. "I'm not...your father." He said obviously, watching her with a bit of anger behind his eyes. She had gotten rid of the only thing that ever helped him and that bothered him. "Why did you do that? I need that..." He said desperately, wanting to get up to go and get the other bottles. He could go out and get more. He would do it tomorrow. She would see. He needed the alcohol to function. She just didn't understand. She would never understand him.

As she asked him to tell her what happened, Graeson stared at her for a moment, fighting inside of himself. The drunk side wanted to confess everything. The other side that remembered her with that guy at the bar wanted to tell her to get out and to give him his bottles back. He knew she wasn't going to leave and give those back no matter what he did though. It wasn't going to happen. Looking at her desperately with his wild eyes, he finally spit out the first admittance that he had needed to get out since the day that it had happened. "I killed my partner. I killed him. He was like my dad. He was better than my real father. And I killed him. Leslie I killed him." He held his head in his hands but he didn't cry. Dylan never cried. It was like something he was immune to no matter how badly he wanted to sometimes. Sitting there dejectedly, he tried to steady himself but it just wasn't going well. This night was awful. He hated it.

TAG - DEVON and DYLAN
WORDS - 1004
NOTES - Wearing THIS
TUNES - devil in a midnight mass , billy talent.
CREDIT - template by MUNZTAR * of caution 2.0

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[LESLIE DEVON]

WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE RUNNING ROUND LEAVING SCARS

CLICK FOR OUTFIT

---

She very obviously ignored all the things he said until he started explaining away about what happened to his partner. She didn't read the report, in order to try and stay unbiased about the entire ordeal when he finally told her. Yes, she knew he would eventually crack. All she had to do was be patient-like before. When he explained what happened, her rage seemed to completely dial down and her eyes softened in that instant protective and maternal instinct of her's she had no idea came from considering she didn't really have a mother while growing up.

She moved to sit next to him and pulled him gently closer to her into a hug, "It's alright, baby," fuck. She didn't mean to call him that, really, considering she'd had a few drinks herself. Whenever she was drunk, she tended to call everyone by super affectionate names such as sweetheart or darling or honey or baby...In his current inebriated mindset, though, she figured he wouldn't noticed and pushed for the more important matter at hand, "He wouldn't want you to be living like this, you know?" she didn't know the guy but by the way Dylan just described him, he would want him to try and grow stronger from the situation, learn from it, not get weaker and succumb to it, "You should everyday toward making him proud of you and what you've become," she spoke in a soothing tone and pulled away a bit to take his face in her hands and look into his eyes. He was so conflicted and hurt...God if she only knew this had happened, she would have tried getting sent home early for at least the week of the funeral so he wouldn't have to be alone...If only.

"It's okay," she said quietly as she placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. She took advantage of the situation with the cute name calling, but she wouldn't push for a kiss. The next time, if she ever did, kiss him, she wanted him to be sober and for her to be sober so it would be real and not like last time where it had been heated and rough like they needed to get this aching lust out of their bones somehow,"Come on...We'll talk more in the morning. Let's get you to bed," she stood up a bit, grabbing his arm to put it around her shoulders, her free arm going to his waist so his weight was mostly on her. Her lean muscles bulged a bit at his weight but she was used to it. She carried people heavier than him for five miles to safety with her equipment on her. She could handle Graeson Dylan.

Reaching the bed, she moved the covers and got him on with only slight difficulty in navigation and then she pulled the covers up. She didn't plan on sleeping in the bed with him-she didn't really think, inebriated or not, that he'd want her there especially after he'd so angrily reacted to her when she'd been talking to that other guy. She hesitated when she went to leave the room, though. She definitely wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. She didn't know how much he drank and if anything happened to him, she wouldn't be able to forgive herself for it; just how she couldn't forgive herself for what happened with her father. She'd always been the one to take care of him and because she hadn't been around to watch him and make sure he was safe, he drank himself into his own death bed. She'd check on Dylan every twenty minutes, that was her goal and if anything, she'd stick to the couch. It was the same one and it was comfy enough when they used to play video games after classes or watch Monday night football.

Looking down at him, she ran her fingers a bit through his hair with wavering eyes. He really was a work of art. He was tragic yet dashing, brash yet mysterious. He was what? Every gal's dream, despite the recent events. He had the perfect combination of the anti protagonist, the one every gal wanted deep down inside. The guy who was so bad...he was good. The guy she had always wanted but never had the balls to admit it to herself...or to him. She always did love him, didn't she? She just never expected he'd ever love a gal like her back.

COLLECTING YOUR JAR OF HEARTS AND TEARING LOVE APART

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[graeson]

Dylan hadn't opened up to anyone about what had happened when his partner died. They had been in a high speed chase and Dylan had made a rash decision. He hadn't been thinking. He had been trying to catch the perp. His partner had told him to go wide and he had. But they both didn't see the oncoming car. They both saw it at the last moment and realized that this might be it for the both of them. Dylan had slammed on the brakes and swerved, but it hadn't been enough. The angle that the oncoming car had slammed into them had flipped the police cruiser, sending it rolling over and over again. Everyone thought they were both dead. Eddie was. Dylan was barely hanging on and he still had the marks from the accident. The ambulance had been called and they had both been removed. Later they found out that the car that had run into them had done nothing to miss the police cruiser because the driver was an accomplice to the first driver they were chasing. It was all some plan to kill Eddie and they had succeeded. They held a grudge against the older cop and if they knocked Dylan out on the way then so be it. They wanted Eddie done and it had happened.

Now Dylan was suffering for it. He had spent three weeks in the hospital, and in the morning when he got up, he still limped because his knee had been shattered. Some days were better than others, but it was getting better because of the physical therapy they had made him go through. He had scars, but they weren't anything serious. However, they would always remind him of what had happened that day. Sighing now as he sat across from Leslie, he hid his face from her in shame. He was embarrassed that she was seeing him like this. He was embarrassed that he let himself go like this. He couldn't change it. Dylan wasn't strong enough to change this. He finally looked up as she moved over to sit next to him, and when she pulled him closer he didn't fight her grasp. He just needed someone to hold onto, he needed someone to tell him that he was going to be alright even if he didn't believe it. As she spoke about Eddie, Graeson closed his eyes in pain of the memories that it brought forward. The way that man had greeted Dylan in the morning with a cup of coffee and a donut to put some meat on his bones was something that always got him through the day. His smile was catching and his laughter was absolutely contagious. Dylan couldn't keep a straight face around him sometimes, but when it came to the job, he was absolutely serious. It was the reason that Dylan had cared in the first place. Now he could care less about the job, the uniform, anything. He let people pay him off to get off, until he got assigned this new partner. Things were going to change. His voice came out in a cracked whisper as he leaned into her now, letting himself go. "I miss him. It's all my fault but I miss him so much. I..I don't even know who I am anymore." He was still slurring, but there was a desperate honesty to his words.

He was lost. So lost and he couldn't fight to find himself anymore. He didn't even care. "No one's ever been proud Leslie. He wouldn't be." He stumbled over his sentences, doing his best to make sense in this situation. But he had had a lot to drink. More than he had ever had before. He had had the bottles before he left his own place, and the open bar had definitely done him some good. Well, it hadn't done him good to be honest. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled softly and closed his eyes and he felt her hands take his face in them. Feeling her eyes on him, he forced his own baby blues open, gazing into her own eyes with a look that said millions. He was shattered. So shattered and he didn't even know how to put those pieces back together again. And he was way too proud to let anyone help him. It was a curse. When she told him it was ok, he shook his head as if to argue, but then he felt her gentle kiss on his forehead. Closing his eyes once more, he just shook his head hopelessly. He had killed Eddie. He had killed the man that had become his father. He would never get past this completely. The alcohol helped numb the pain and he wanted it more than ever now. He wanted to make himself never feel again. It would be easier and he needed that easy way out this time. He heard her speak once more, but this time it was as if she was in the distance, or surrounded by water. He heard bed, and then he felt her helping him up to stand. He pushed himself up as well, but everything was so heavy.

He stood with her, doing his best not to lean on her. It was hard and he struggled, but when he saw his bed he was relieved. He just needed to sleep. A part of him wanted to sleep and never wake up. He needed the peace and the quiet. He just never slept anymore. He swayed as she pulled back his covers, and then fell willingly into his bed. It was the most comfortable bed ever. He loved it, but he could never fall asleep in it. It was just a wonderful situation. Sighing now, he looked up at her and just stared. She was beautiful and she always had been, inside and out. He was a fool to let her go all of those years ago. He had ruined his life and he had hurt her. He would do anything to take that back. He would do anything to make things right again and to make her feel like she was wanted, like she was beautiful. His breath caught as he spoke up. "Leslie. Please stay. Please don't leave me. I..I need you." He finally admitted, praying that she wasn't going to go.

TAG - DEVON and DYLAN
WORDS - 1102
NOTES - Wearing THIS
TUNES - devil in a midnight mass , billy talent.
CREDIT - template by MUNZTAR * of caution 2.0

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[LESLIE DEVON]

WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE RUNNING ROUND LEAVING SCARS

CLICK FOR OUTFIT

---

Her eyes wavered a bit as he asked her not to stay and she stroked his cheek a bit, "I'm not going anywhere, big guy," she smiled softly before she went over to take his clothes off so he wouldn't be uncomfortable before pulling the covers back onto him. She folded his clothing before tossing it into the dirty laundry, out of habit from boot camp, and put his shoes in the closet before she headed back to the kitchen and turned off the lights so everything was dark by the time she got back to his room a few seconds later. She slipped off her heels on the other side of the large bed and then her leather shrug before climbing into the bed. The beauty of her dress/ It could double as a night gown...just a bit tighter. She made sure she was facing him once she was laying down and reached over under the covers to lace her fingers into his, keeping her eyes locked on his face as the moonlight outlined it, "You'll be okay eventually," she mumbled quietly, "I promise."

---

When late morning, early afternoon rolled around, Leslie was still awake though she looked exhausted. Her eyes glanced over at his alarm clock which read 11:30 and she mentally scolded herself for missing her doctor's appointment. She could faintly hear her cellphone vibrating in her clutch on the kitchen counter for a good hour and she knew it was probably someone from the base over in Los Angeles ready to scold her for not showing up for P.T either...or physical therapy, or the doctor's appointment. But she couldn't just up and leave Dylan, not after he told her he needed her. So she continued to remain still as he slept, with an occasional snore that would escape. She hadn't been able to sleep out of paranoia that something could happen to him and the night terrors that plagued her. She didn't want to end up punching him in the middle of the night. Sure, she dosed off every hour or so but she would wake up a bit with a slight start, check to make sure he was breathing and alive before relaxing again only to have the process repeat over and over.

When he started to wake up, she perked up a bit. She felt sore from laying in the same position for so long. Somewhere in the middle of the night, he had managed to pull her closer to him and her one hand was still laced in with his own, thinking if she moved too much he'd wake up and he needed to sleep-more so than her-at least in Devon's opinion, "Good morning," she said softly once his eyes were opened. Ick, she sounded exhausted. Nothing an extra large cup of coffee couldn't fix though. Thankfully, they didn't have work today or tonight or she'd be screwed. She'd have to try to sleep tonight-as much as she'd dislike it. If she didn't, she'd be a zombie compared to right now. She gave him a gentle and small smile, not really wanting to do much else. Despite being a bit uncomfortable, she didn't want to move. Standing up seemed like such a hard task now.

And to think the last time she'd been in this bed, she had been kicked out of it. She couldn't imagine the countless other women-she didn't want to. At least she knew part (because she knew it couldn't be the whole reason) as to why he was a bit of a womanizer. It made sense, "How'd you sleep?" she'd make him breakfast, since she figured he'd have a killer hangover and she knew the perfect foods to make a hangover go away: lots of grease and fat anything. Plus, he needed meat on his bones. That would help tons.

COLLECTING YOUR JAR OF HEARTS AND TEARING LOVE APART

template by eliza @ shadowplay

[graeson]

He heard her words as he started to drift to sleep and he prayed she would stay. She made him feel safe and at home, and he knew that he was sleeping because of how trashed he was, but also because she was here. There were countless nights when he still wouldn't pass out from his alcohol consumption because something was just wrong. Now that she was here he felt at peace and he knew that it was because of her. Taking another deep breath to steady himself, he exhaled slowly and felt her removing his clothes. If he was in the right frame of mind he'd be making some crude comments, but since he was so out of his mind, it didn't even cross his mind. He just wanted her to be next to him. Shivering slightly from his lack of clothes, he curled up under his blanket and then felt the bed shift as she climbed in. He reached for her hand as she took his and laced his fingers with hers comfortably. This felt right. This felt like something he wanted to do more than once. He wanted to sleep beside her. Not just sleep with her, have sex with her. He wanted her to be different. He wanted her to mean something and she did. She meant so much. Cuddling next to her when she finally settled down, he drifted off into a doze, the nightmares escaping him because of how exhausted he truly was.

________________________________________


His eyes fluttered open as the sunlight filled the room. For a moment he thought he was late for work. He couldn't be late for work. He'd get in serious trouble, especially with Devon. He scrambled to sit up but suddenly realized that his body felt like a bag of bricks. His head was pounding and his throat was absolutely parched. A groan left his swollen throat as he realized how hungover he was, and then started piecing back together the instances of the night. The last thing he remembered was how he had been upset that Leslie was with that guy. Leslie! Wait a minute! Was she here? Then he heard her voice. Good morning. Was this real? Was she really with him right now? Turning his head to look at her, Dylan realized how close she was to him, and a grin broke out over his tired face. Even though he had slept, he still needed to catch up on so much more. "Morning." His voice croaked from how dry his mouth was and he shook his head. He couldn't believe that she was here to see him looking like this. He looked awful in the morning. He always gave himself an extra half hour to get going because he looked that awful. The dark circles beneath his eyes looked black, and his face was pale from being so drunk.

He suddenly realized that his hand was enclosed over hers, and he smiled for another moment, his thumb running gently over her knuckles. This was the sober Dylan. This was the Dylan that she hadn't yet experienced in quite some time because of how dependent he had been on alcohol. As she smiled up at him, he smiled back, unable to help himself. This girl was special, that much was obvious. She had stayed when all the others would have left. Sure he was the one that most women wanted because of his handsome looks and his mysterious appearance. But they wanted him for the sex. He wasn't an idiot. They had heard of his reputation and wanted some. He was more than obliging to give it to them most of the time and that was why he was so messed up. Sighing now, he looked down at her as she asked him how he slept. "Well..I think I slept alright. Waking up to your beautiful face is certainly a plus." The best part about that statement was that he was absolutely, one hundred percent sober. He was exhausted and he was hung over, but he was sober. He knew what was going on and that was important to him. He was more than happy that she was here as well. Leaning forward, he gently kissed her forehead, pulling away and keeping her hand in his. "Thank you Devon. For being here for me last night."

TAG - DEVON and DYLAN
WORDS - 852
NOTES - Wearing THIS
TUNES - devil in a midnight mass , billy talent.
CREDIT - template by MUNZTAR * of caution 2.0

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[LESLIE DEVON]

WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE RUNNING ROUND LEAVING SCARS

CLICK FOR OUTFIT

---

When he called her beautiful, her eyes seemed to show her hesitation. She couldn't fathom why she was hesitating so much with him. Wasn't he what she wanted? The only guy she'd ever really liked as more than just a friend? The only guy she'd ever given her virtue to? Shouldn't she be ecstatic he was calling her beautiful...? She couldn't understand why she wanted to put a hand over his mouth to make him stop any flow of compliments. Maybe it was just because she wasn't used to compliments on her appearance-only on other things like how good she was at cooking or how she could out burp a guy if she really want to or how she used to be really great at poking fun at herself. She had grown completely used to not paying attention to her appearance because even in boot camp, appearances didn't mean anything. She figured someone would come along and eventually like her for her and not care that she had braces of messy hair or glasses. But he was calling her beautiful now...after she had her little transformation, after she got rid of her braces and learned how to tame her hair and went to the point of getting laser eye surgery in order to look acceptable in the eyes of her peers-in the eyes of society as a whole. Now he told her she was beautiful...when the word meant little to nothing to her because she's wasn't beautiful...She was practically manufactured off an assembly line.

So she bit her lower lip at the compliment, knowing very well she should take it as such but simply couldn't bring herself to and was thankful for the subject change until he was thanking her for staying. It felt weird hearing something as simple as a thank you from someone. Sitting up, she let go of his hand to get out of the bed, rolling her neck a bit and feeling her shoulder ache. At the thought that she had her back to him, she quickly grabbed her shrug and slipped it on to cover the nasty stitches on her shoulder before turning back to face him, "No problem," she grabbed her heels and slipped them on. She wasn't planning on leaving just yet but she felt she should stay fully dressed in case of anything. That and she was just being paranoid, "Are you hungry? I know exactly what you can eat to cure that hangover of your's," she let another small yet tiresome smile fall on her lips before she slipped out of the bedroom and to the bathroom to brush her teeth using her finger as a tooth brush and then to the kitchen to start making a gigantic meal for him. It had been a rhetorical question, which she was sure he caught onto...

"If you don't eat, I'm shoving the food down your through," she threatened playfully as she found the necessary ingredients and started making some nice, greasy, fattening breakfast foods including sausage, eggs, pepperoni, ham, cheese, and veggie omelets, fried bananas (something she learned while overseas), butter on toast, bacon, scraps, and homemade fried potatoes. She was going all out and she easily moved around the kitchen, setting a large bottle of gatorade she had picked up on the way there last night knowing how he'd be in the morning (though not expecting to spend the night) and knowing the gatorade would solve his funny throat problem easily since he needed to replace his electrolytes. Truth was, a hangover was just dehydration and low blood sugar. All he had to do was load up on gatorade and fat foods and he would be able to feel much better much sooner.

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[graeson]

He couldn't believe what he had done last night. He knew that he was wrong. That much was obvious. He should have been happy for her. He should have been glad that a man was giving her the attention that she needed and deserved. He hadn't been there for her all those years ago and he had taken her purity. He wasn't an idiot. He knew what he did and that had scared him even more. The girls that he had slept with meant nothing to him, and he had taken a few of their v-cards. It was something he had been proud of when it had happened but now he no longer wanted the credit for that. He felt horrible. And when he took Leslie's, it had set him back. It had almost devastated him. Sure, he wanted to be the one that had done that now, but back then it had meant nothing to him. It was sad to admit, but it was the truth. They had both been drunk out of their minds. It had been a mistake, or so he had thought at the time. But now he knew that it was no mistake. He knew that it had opened the door to his feelings and his emotions for this young woman and he wanted things to be different between them now. He wanted to be with her. He just needed to make her see how honest and genuine he was being. He needed to change. He knew that. This alcohol addiction needed to stop but he was afraid of what would happen if he did. What if he couldn't function right without it? What if things went bad now?

Looking over at her now he saw her face. She looked exhausted and worry ran through him instantly. And with that worry came guilt. She didn't sleep because of him. That was what his mind thought at the moment because of how drunk he had been. She didn't need to take care of him like that. He knew that he had asked her to stay but now he felt extremely selfish. He shouldn't have done this to her. Sitting up in bed now, the covers fell away from his uncovered torso and he realized his ribs were sticking out clearly. She could count every single one which was something that she had never been able to do before. Dylan had had six pack abs all of his life. Now there were just outlines of what he used to have. Looking at her as she got up, he saw the scar with the stitches in her back. Furrowing his brow, he spoke up, wanting that to be addressed immediately. "Leslie, wait. What happened to your back? And don't say nothing, it's fine, because I know you and that's not fine." He knew her so well. He knew she was going to brush it off and he wouldn't allow it. Not this time. That looked serious and painful and it needed to be spoken about. Or looked at. It didn't look as good as stitches should look. He should know. He had had plenty after the accident. Watching her as she put her heels on, he wondered if she was leaving. Well wasn't this a cruel trick of fate? She was going to leave before he could kick her out? He wasn't going to kick her out. He wasn't like that anymore. Not with her.

When she said that she had the perfect cure to his hangover, Graeson stared after her as she walked away, asking if he was hungry. He wasn't. His stomach wasn't even begging for food as it had in the past. He was about to say that he was fine, but she had already walked away from him. Frowning, he scrambled up from bed, hoping she hadn't seen how much weight he really lost. Getting to his dresser, he pulled out sweatpants and a tee shirt, pulling them on over his boxers. Thinking for a moment, he pulled out another pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt, knowing she must be uncomfortable. He shuffled out into the kitchen, the smell of food hitting him like a smack in the face. Still no response from his stomach. It had just gotten used to being empty. He put the clothes on the counter for her. "You can't be that comfortable in that. Here." He offered, hoping she would accept the offer. As she cooked, he heard her threat. "Devon..I'm not hungry. Don't go through all of this trouble, really." He tried, watching her cook a feast. This wasn't good. She was going to be so upset when she found out that he wasn't hungry. Watching her now, he sighed softly to himself and sat at one of the stools at the counter. She really didn't have to go through all of this trouble. "And I hope you know that you can't leave without getting some rest here. Let me take care of you."

TAG - DEVON and DYLAN
WORDS - 900
NOTES - Wearing THIS
TUNES - devil in a midnight mass , billy talent.
CREDIT - template by MUNZTAR * of caution 2.0

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[LESLIE DEVON]

WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE RUNNING ROUND LEAVING SCARS

CLICK FOR OUTFIT

---

When he mentioned her wound, she ignored it completely as if she hadn't heard a thing. She did tell him the other night that she had a doctor's appointment today but she missed it. She'd have to reschedule it for sometime tomorrow when she could drive over to Los Angeles. But she didn't want to talk about that. She had scars from all the others but the one on her back was just something she'd hastily done, something she learned to do quickly from a field doctor overseas. Either way, it didn't need to be addressed. She knew what she was doing and she could figure it out on her own. She continued making the food, eventually putting it all on a plate for him before going over to make herself a very large cup of coffee. She was taking a sip of it when she set the plate in front of him, "Eat while I change, then. You need to put some weight on," she said it simply before she was back to drinking the coffee. Grabbing the shirt and sweatpants, she went over to the bathroom, still with that cup of coffee. It wasn't that hot so it was easy for her to start downing it while on her way. She obviously was trying to stay fully awake and alert and caffeine always helped in that department.

She came out of the bathroom holding the pants folded neatly in her arms, the large cup of coffee already consumed, "Their too big," she explained. The shirt itself reached just above her knees and covered her enough. Her dress was shorter than that and it was currently on a hanger in the bathroom. She was glad it covered her scar, though, so he wouldn't remember to bring it back up. But as he mentioned letting him take care of her while she put the cup in the sink, she nearly glared at him, "I've been taking care of myself since I was seven years old," she snapped at him without meaning to. She was honestly just exhausted, "I don't need anyone to take care of me when I've been doing just fine since then," she didn't know why she took such great offense to him wanting to take care of her. It wasn't just him though, it was anyone else in general. She didn't like doctors, hospitals, anything that involved her being absolutely vulnerable and in the hands of someone else. If she could stitch herself up, she would do it. Why get a doctor to do it?

"Just eat your food, Dylan," she locked her jaw as she said it bluntly and then turned back around, wincing a bit at her shoulder. She'd been laying on it all night and though it normally didn't bother her, she figured it was when she picked him up that it started aching again. Pushing it all off to the side, though, she started cleaning the pan she had used to make the food. Truthfully, Devon would have made a fantastic mother. She obviously knew how to do it-she'd been doing it almost her whole life with everyone around her that she really cared about. It wouldn't be any different just with little people, "Eat or I'll hit you in the face with this pan," she held it up as she looked over at him, being serious. He better eat. At least half of it. He needed something in his system. She wouldn't accept seeing him as a twig. She watched him and seeing he was refusing to eat-being his usual stubborn self, she gave out an exasperated groan and whirled around to face him, "I was shot while in Iraq," she stated bluntly like it wasn't a big deal. Deep down, it was a bigger deal than he could ever imagine, "It was why they sent me back, originally. You can't do much with your arm in a sling and homemade stitches. There, I told you. Now can you just eat? You look like Skeletor with a hangover," she said the rest as if annoyed. She wouldn't go into detail about how she got shot. She didn't want to go into detail about how she had done it so save one of her own and they ended up stepping on a hidden land mine anyway. She was supposed to be the one who stepped on that landmine. She'd been headed in that direction. Plus, if she explained it, she'd have to explain everything in order for him to understand and she really was too tired to start explaining the five years he'd missed.

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[graeson]

It irritated him that she completely ignored his words about her shoulder. There was something seriously wrong and she wouldn't tell him. Well he was done talking to her about what had happened to his partner then. She needed to give just as much as he gave. That was how a relationship worked, whether it be friendship or romantic. Staring at her in slight irritation, he just shook his head. He was going to get it out of her if it was the last thing that he did. If she wanted to know about what happened with him and Eddie then she was going to have to tell him something about her past. This whole thing between them was going to be a give and take. And it was going to be an equal give and take. Watching her, he sighed in frustration and then perched on the stool, crossing his arms. Goodness she was stubborn. He supposed he wasn't that easy to deal with either though, so he figured he deserved this. This was what he got for being how he was. But he'd make her tell him. He was determined now, and when Dylan set his mind to something, he didn't stop until he got it. This was a new challenge to him and he'd find a way to overcome it. If he'd only find a way to look at his alcohol problem as a challenge and work to overcome that as well. But baby steps.

Sighing, he looked to the large plate of food in front of him. It was a good thing he wasn't fat because this would just add the pounds right on it. It smelled like heaven but he still couldn't bring himself to lift his fork. He just had no interest whatsoever, and as he sat staring at the plate, he tried willing himself to eat it. He just couldn't do it. Getting slightly frustrated, he realized his mind was traveling to the alcohol that he had hidden around the kitchen. He didn't realize, or he forgot that she had gotten rid of it all last night. He could go for some right now, but he knew she'd never allow it. Shaking his head, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the counter, holding his fork finally. He looked up as she came back out, trying to act like he had eaten something. But of course she could see right through him. Giving her an innocent look, he nodded as she said they were too big. "Hey wait a minute...are you calling me fat?" He asked hopefully, knowing that wasn't the case at all but it was worth the try. However, any happy moment they could have hoped to have was ruined as she jumped down his throat for wanting to take care of her. His fork dropped with a clatter on the counter and he looked at her in slight anger and rejection. She was kidding, right? "You're a stubborn idiot if you think you're fine. You need someone to help you and you just won't let it happen. Let me in Devon. I'm not going to leave this time. I'm not going to make you leave this time." He said honestly, watching her for her reaction. He knew that his first comment was going to anger her. Actually, his entire comment was going to piss her off. But she needed to know.

He wasn't going anywhere and neither was she. He knew she was exhausted and had a huge feeling that that was what was wrong with her. He was trying to take that into account as her entire mood turned and she ordered him to eat. Offended, he spoke up. "I'm not a child Devon. Don't treat me like one." He snapped back, ready to stand up and leave the plate of food where it was. She didn't understand his lack of appetite. It wasn't even possible for him to be a little bit hungry. Watching her scrub the pan, he looked over as she held it up and threatened him. "That definitely makes me want to listen to you now." He said incredulously and then just shook his head. This was ridiculous. He couldn't believe this. He wanted to help her and she was pushing him away. He supposed he deserved it, but he was trying here. She couldn't take care of everyone for the rest of her life. She would exhaust herself. She needed help. As she turned and faced him, his blue eyes stared into hers and he listened to what she said. She got shot in Iraq. His face paled slightly and it was obvious that he was worried. She wasn't handling that well. It was easy and plain to see. He was about to respond, but she was telling him to eat. And he would eat because he wanted her to get to bed. He shoveled the food in grudgingly, eating half the plate to the best of his ability. It was absolutely delicious, but his stomach couldn't handle all of the rich food. Taking a break, he looked up at her. "I'll eat the rest. I promise. But first, you have to sleep. And I won't take no for an answer." He instructed and then was up and off of his stool.

Going towards her, he didn't give a clue as to what he was going to do, but suddenly had her up and over his shoulder. He clung to her easily. For a marine, she was still pretty light. He didn't say anything as he carried her back to his bedroom for he knew she was going to be furious with him. Once they got to the room, he kicked the door open and got to the bed, flinging her gracefully down on the mattress. In another instant he had the covers over her and was soon on top of her himself because he knew all too well that she was going to try to get up. "Alright cranky pants. You need a nap. I don't care what your excuse is. I'm not getting up until you promise you'll stay in this bed and sleep." He said firmly, knowing this was the only way she was going to get any rest at all today.

TAG - DEVON and DYLAN
WORDS - 1108
NOTES - Wearing THIS
TUNES - devil in a midnight mass , billy talent.
CREDIT - template by MUNZTAR * of caution 2.0

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[LESLIE DEVON]

WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE RUNNING ROUND LEAVING SCARS

CLICK FOR OUTFIT

---

She was more than satisfied that he ate at least half of it. She could live with that. But as she finished washing her hands after washing the pan, she was suddenly lifted off the ground and she immediately started protesting while attempting to hold the shirt over her butt. She had a thong on...He'd see her butt. Not that it mattered since he'd seen her naked before but still, "Put me down!" she yelled out, attempting to wiggle herself off of him but failing miserably. A string of curses came out from under her breathe, "I don't need sleep! I have things I have to do! Let me go! This is so fucking stupid! I have legs ya know! I can use them!" and then she was thrown onto the bed and she winced at the pressure on her shoulder and the ache she normally felt in her lower back but it didn't compare to the body suddenly on top of her.

"Dylan!" her voice was muffled as she attempted to get out from under him, "Dylan, I'm serious-this fucking hurts," she she was serious, though it came out ruder than she intended. She wasn't suppose to be putting pressure on that shoulder. The doctor had told her so last time because it was how she busted the stitches open during round number one. When she finally managed to get out from under him, she flopped over so she was on her stomach and buried her face into the bed, putting a hand on her shoulder. She wanted to scream into the pillow partially from exhaustion, from frustration, and from the constant needle like pressure pains that rolling in from her wound. That and she didn't want him to see her face, "Get over here," her face was still covered by a cascade of blonde hair as her voice came out muffled again. She wasn't going to be moving anytime soon. She was too tired and the bed felt too nice.

Once her was close to her, she lifted her head to lay it on his chest, "Five men, twenty seven civilians," she said not looking up at him but instead blankly out into the room. Her mood swings were horrible when she was exhausted, "I had to explain to my staff Sargent why I came back with only two men and why my squad leader wasn't among them. Try explaining that one," she sighed deeply as she tried to relax herself, "It was supposed to be a routine layout sweep to check out the perimeter and it turned into a fucking blood bath." she didn't want to explain the rest. That bullet wound was the worst, "I wake up every hour or so," she warned him, "So prepare yourself for the worst," she finally looked up at him, "It doesn't get pretty when I sleep which is why I just don't."

And by the looks of it, she didn't sleep very often for a long time and she'd grown accustomed to it. It was why she could stay up unblinkingly for hours during the night shift. It came easy to her-she practically became nocturnal with only short little twenty minutes naps throughout the day so she wouldn't die.

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[graeson]

He knew she wasn't expecting him to pick her up but he did it anyway. She needed to learn and accept the fact that he was back in her life and he wasn't going to let her get out of his that easily. She had things that were locked deep inside of her and Dylan could see right through that mask she put up to the world. He wasn't an idiot. He knew his best friend. She meant the world to him and to see her hurting the way that she was hurt him. The fact that she wouldn't let him in to help her didn't help the situation either. He felt absolutely useless when he just wanted to be there for her. This was the first time that he had ever wanted to be there for anyone. That meant a lot because it wasn't an emotion he was used to feeling. It scared him, but he didn't want to lose it. So that was why he threw her over his shoulder. He ignored the string of curses that flew from her mouth as if she was a sailor, and heard the rest of her words. " Pfft. Yeah ok, you don't need sleep. And I'm Santa. Didn't I tell you?" He said sarcastically, ignoring her other comments, especially the one about her having legs. She had legs alright. He had already admired them in the dress and even moreso in his shirt. He appreciated those legs, but he'd appreciate them more if they were rested.

It sounded cheesy, but he wasn't going to change the way that he felt or thought. She needed rest or she was going to fall over. As he plopped her on the bed and covered her with the blankets and then his body, he heard her struggling beneath her. When she said that he was hurting her he sighed and rolled off, ready to leave her be. He didn't think she'd want him in the bed with her especially after he refused to let her down when he was carrying her into the bedroom. He grinned slightly as she buried her face in the pillows, not believing that she was in his bed again. He couldn't complain to be honest. Not to sound creepy but he loved looking at her when she was calm. And peaceful. Like that night before he fell asleep, he had held her in his arms and just watched her sleep. Shaking those thoughts from his mind now, he tried to ignore them. They were completely different people now. They had baggage. They had scars. Both physical and mental ones and they were both trying to deal with being back in one another's lives. It was a slow process, but Graeson was doing his best to make sure that he was keeping up his end in this situation. It was the least that he could do to be perfectly honest. Sighing, he heard her next words and grinned again.

Scooting over in the bed, he brought the covers over himself as well and wrapped his strong arms around her carefully and gently, being mindful of her sutures. She laid her head on his chest and he felt at peace with the world for the moment. His hand rubbed up and down her arm slowly and gently, trying to bring her some comfort. Anything to help right? As she spoke, he listened, his eyes closed as he did so. She went through so much and he knew that she didn't leave with a good head on her shoulders. He had ruined her and he was guilty. He would always be guilty. He wanted to punch himself, or do something to punish himself. When she confessed what had happened, he spoke quietly, his deep voice whispering even though he didn't have to. "You don't scare me Devon. I'm not going anywhere. And that..wasn't your fault. What happened in Iraq. Don't blame yourself." They were in the same situation when it came to the blame game. They blamed themselves for things that they weren't responsible for. It helped that they knew what the other was feeling. Dylan opened his eyes now and leaned down to gently kiss the top of her head. "Get some sleep. I'll see you in an hour."

TAG - DEVON and DYLAN
WORDS - 858
NOTES - Wearing THIS
TUNES - devil in a midnight mass , billy talent.
CREDIT - template by MUNZTAR * of caution 2.0

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[LESLIE DEVON]

WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE RUNNING ROUND LEAVING SCARS

CLICK FOR OUTFIT

---

He didn't understand that it was her fault. She was the second in command. She was supposed to see the errors before they happened. It was part of her training. But soon enough she managed to fall asleep, finally, only to continue waking up every hour or so thrashing, sweating, screaming, mumbling, or a combination of the three. Her dreams weren't dreams. The one place she used to be able to run to as a kid to escape the issues she faced in reality was no longer there anymore. It had disappeared, over night, and she was stuck in this scary wasteland.

Most dreams started out the same.

"Sir yes sir!" the squad yelled out as the orders were given to them. They stood in what looked like an abandoned town. Debris was littered everywhere and as she looked out at the faces around her, some younger and some older, she committed them more to memory than usual. She did it every time she went out on a mission. That way she knew who were her boys that she had to take care of. They were inside a hollowed out building made of cement and their was rapid gunfire outside. the sounds of civilians screaming as they tried getting out of the way. They were supposed to protect them and she would make damn sure she would. They would kick the bad guy's butt the American way.

Then they were running with their heavy uniforms and packs on, guns ready and aiming at the enemy. But then something exploded up ahead right by one of her men, "Stop! Everyone stop!" she yelled out at the realization they were sitting ducks on top of a mine field. No wonder the other's stayed up ahead and didn't walk any further. They knew better. She called out to one of her members who disappeared in a cloud of smoke and her commanding officer put a hand on her shoulder, "He's out, Devon. We gotta keep moving and get these civilians to safety." He was blunt about it but wasn't he supposed to be? It was part of his job description. Devon nodded, forcing herself to understand. She had been aiming toward becoming an officer back then, possibly having her career in the USMC. It was better pay than a police officer and she would renew her contract every couple of years. She could stop whenever she wanted to. She had no family to go back to, no real friends that would miss her much. This had become her life and it had become what she wanted.

"Watch your step men!" she barked out just before the rapid firing commenced. Her officer yelled out orders for half to take the civilians to safety and the other half to start taking out the men up ahead. Leslie started toward the other men. She made sure to keep her step as light as she could and each one made her heart race with the possibility that she wouldn't be recognizable anymore and be just a pile of charred limbs and ash. She grabbed the fallen solder's dog tags the second the sun hit then and wrapped them around her neck before firing away at them. She was so close...she could feel it. And once she got them all out, they would promote her for sure...

But then a dog ran in front and a little boy was chasing after it. It was the classic set up, really. Like the boy chasing the ball across the street while a car was coming in one of those commercials only here there were no brakes, no brands being named, no voice over. She saw the bullet hit the dog just before it hit a land mine and not caring whether she stepped on one or not, she scooped up the boy, no more than ten years old and dirt covered, and turned her back on the on coming bullets, crouching down to the ground to cover him from the falling ash, dirt, and...well...bits of his once lovely,scrawny herd dog. He was screaming and crying in a language she didn't understand and probably never would and it was then she felt the sharpness of pins and needles with the weight of a truck hit her shoulder and she fell over a bit but continued hovering over the boy. She couldn't remember when it was she dropped her pack along the long trek toward taking out the enemy but if she had it, she wouldn't have gotten hit. She forced herself to ignore the severing pain though and picked up the boy with ease.

"Pass him over, Devon!" her officer yelled out not too far from her. But if she passed him over, he'd be vulnerable to the firing and it would slow her commanding officer down. She didn't have her pack on. It was much easier to carry his weight but her officer was yelling at her harshly and she, for the first time, panicked while out on the field and handed the boy over. It was then she noticed the rest of the squad was missing, "Sir! Where-" but her voice was cut off when the wind blew a bit and the smoke shifted. The civilians had guns in their hands and not too far behind them were the bodies of her squad members laying on the ground, "Sir! We have to get out of here! Now!" she yelled out and he nodded. Three other squad members were running toward them away from the civilians who looked like the living dead. It was the last thing anyone would have suspected. Quickly, the five ran toward a building as the firing commenced from both sides. Just as they got inside, she went to grab the hand of one of the guys who had always been a bit too slow at running but as he reached for it, she watched a bullet hit his neck. Letting out a string of curses, she ran back out to drag him inside and she put her hand on his neck to put pressure on it and ease the bleeding. He was still alive. Very much alive and feeling every bit of it.

She heard her officer radio in for backup as they moved to higher ground. and blocked off the entrances, "Pass me the wires," she said simply to one of the other members who handed it to her after making him replace her hand on his wound. She slipped off her gloves and then, though she did a hatch job of stitching him up, he just might live to see another day, "Sir, we have to get out of here or he isn't going to make it," she looked over at him and that was when she watched bullet go right between his eyes. The little boy held a small hand gun and aimed it at them, sending multiple bullets into another member before she was able to scramble for her own gun and kill him. The injured soldier next to her attempted to say something and she shushed him, "You'll make it to see tomorrow," she told him firmly, "I'm making sure you see that beautiful baby girl of yours," he was a dad. He shouldn't be here.

And it was just the two of them, camped out on the roof top of the building, trying to stay hidden from the civilians below before a helicopter could come and get them once night fell. The guy did get to see his baby girl and he finally got to go home for good...but she made the mistake of saving that boy...because he took out three of them in the blink of an eye-all because she hadn't been paying attention.

This time, she sat right up, taking in a sharp breathe like she hadn't been breathing. She looked around completely unaware of where she was. It was shortly passed sunset seeing the colors of the lighting and she immediately whirled around as if she were looking for something before punching the chest of whoever was closest to her sharply to knock the wind out of them and slow them down. Rushing out of the bed and going to her clutch and grabbing the small handgun in there, she pointed it toward the entrance of the room. She hadn't realized she had woken up and was too paranoid to deal with whoever was in there, "Come out slowly and drop any weapons!" she barked out like she was back on the field. Her eyes were clouded over and this was why she hated sleeping. Sometimes she didn't even know when she woke up.

COLLECTING YOUR JAR OF HEARTS AND TEARING LOVE APART

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