Gavin's eyes opened slightly; the first thing they saw was Stefan, seated next to him. When his hazy vision cleared, he found Aimee and Celeste standing at one of the curtains that divided him and Dominick from their wounded neighbours.

"Hey, buddy," Stefan whispered. "How're you feeling?"

"Better actually – numb, with a few broken bones, but my face still seems to be a face, so I'll be alright."

"Actually, it's pretty busted," Stefan joked. "I think you'll have to go in for some major surgery. I mean, without your face, you'll just have your charm, your good sense of humour and your supernaturally selfless nature. That's worth nothing in the real world."

"Turd."

They laughed hard, at least until this look appeared on Stefan's face. He observed the people in the room, the nurses he relied on to make sure Gavin and Dominick would recover swiftly. They had not endured injuries like that before, not since Stefan had known them, and his faith in their medication wavered for the first time. He was sincerely heartbroken, torn by the fact that his friends were in there at all. He thought about what he had told Aimee: that they chose to go out into the field, they chose this mission. It was not that he did not understand her desire to keep her friends out of harm's way, but he had tried to stay strong, for them both. And he was honest; that was how they were trained. But now, such thinking seemed puerile and pointless.

"You and the guys came back for my sorry ass when you could've been here – safe," he breathed. "I can't thank you enough for that."

Gavin sighed, half smiling, "Your sorry ass is welcome."

"I also came to apologise. I shouldn't have left you behind; it was selfish and crass, it won't happen again. Except for now," he scratched his head with swift shame. "Aimee and I are going to look for Benjamin. We think he might be alive."

Gavin nodded, seemingly unsurprised. Maybe it was the drugs. "Apology accepted. Stefan, good luck."

Stefan smiled, and then looked back at the girls, at Aimee, "Ready?"

Aimee sucked in a breath and exhaled a request to talk to Gavin alone. She glanced between Celeste and Stefan, and they glanced between each other. Casually, Celeste pretended not to mind, said she was going to get Gavin something to eat anyway. When she and Stefan left, Aimee greeted Gavin in a whisper and sat down in the space between his arm and the edge of his bed.

"Also think I won't survive without a pretty face?"

"You wouldn't stand a chance."

"Damn," he chuckled.

"No, I just realised that I have a lot of things to thank you for, too. And now is as good a time as any –"

His eyes went big, "Hey, Aimee, I'm not dying, you don't need to do the whole heartfelt speech thing."

"Pssht, duh! You're gonna live forever," she smiled. "It's just that you've been kind to me from day one, and saved me and Stefan countless times. You were there when I found out about my parents and you even had to carry me into my home when we got back from AIM. You rescued me that morning I got shot, were there for me when I cried, and have been there for me and everyone I love every day since.
  "You've done a lot for me, even if you don't know it. You even fell for me – which may be the reason you did all those things, but I believe you're a good enough person to have done it for anyone. The point is, I may not be in love with you, but I do care about you. And I wanted to say this without it being awkward. I love you, Gavin."

Slowly, adoringly, Aimee leaned in and kissed Gavin's forehead. She had placed her hand on his chest, and he took it before she could turn away.

"You and Stefan are my best friends. But I'll always love you, too."

Gavin moved his hand away, but Aimee stayed where she was and smiled at him for a time.

"Remember that time you kissed me in The Arena?"

He blushed, "It wasn't exactly me, but yeah. What about it?"

"Do you still think about it?"

"I try not to..."

She became serious as she slurred out a thought, one she wanted to get out of her head (even if it seemed inappropriate): "Would it be weird if I thought the real you deserved a chance?"

His eyes went wide and his blush returned, fiercely red. "Aimee, don't mess with me, I'm sensitive. Are you serious?" he had to be sure.

She giggled, hoping not to display her faint embarrass-ment, "I'm serious."

"Okay."

"Okay," she whispered.

There was something about the innocent joy in his green eyes that made her have second thoughts about this idea of hers, but it was just a kiss. She knew that, he knew it, too. He knew it. Maybe there really was a thing about hospitals...

Aimee placed her hand on his chest and neared his face, his mouth, with hers. Gavin himself could not fathom how he came to agree to such an idea. Was it too late for him to change his mind? Every motion made his heart beat ferociously – he thanked the heavens for inaudible heartrate monitors. And then she kissed him. That kiss was a dream, he thought to himself, and it would remain a dream thereafter. And if it was only a dream, it could not threaten his and Stefan's friendship, could it? He took Aimee's hand, the one on his chest, and the more his lips caressed hers, the more he believed she tasted like honey. When she eased away, gracing him with her smile, he got goose bumps.

"There," she uttered. "That was, uhm–"

"Yeah."

Aimee slowly rose from the bed, wishing him well – and he reminded her that he was going to live forever – as she headed towards the door.

"I'm sorry, Aimee," Gavin stopped her with one more playful comment, "life without my immaculate make-outs is going to be torture."

"Oh, definitely!" she agreed with light-hearted sarcasm.

Suddenly, Gavin thought of someone else (he was fond of her as well), but he fervently dismissed any feelings of guilt for what had happened here. It was a dream.

"Do me a favour?" he asked. "Take Celeste with you. I don't want her to keep worrying about me."

"Being away from you won't keep her from worrying. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know..."

Aimee grinned his way, "Let's make a deal: if I get her to join us on this escapade, you've gotta ask her out."

And she left him there. If he'd had any protestations, they had not escaped his mouth. There was no argument, no words to justify his incessant blushing. He supposed it was pretty obvious that they had grown closer – it was just somewhat bizarre to hear it aloud, like it made it more definite somehow.

Back at Gavin's place, Celeste had showered and donned a white-and-grey striped top with a cropped leather jacket, brown with a gold zipper. The bottoms of her ebony jeans were hidden in her high heel boots. She was warming up some of the leftovers from the previous night and dishing them into containers. A part of her wondered why Aimee wanted to be alone with Gavin, a part of her was determined not to care. She knew Aimee loved Stefan, and although she never quite understood how she picked him over Gavin, it suited her fine.

Celeste stuffed the lunchboxes into a shopping bag, along with serviettes and plastic utensils, when her ringtone blasted from her pocket – it was Don't Bring Me Down by ELO (she had heard Gavin play it once). She answered, and Aimee's voice poured through the line, "Cel, where are you now?" They exchanged their whereabouts – Aimee and Stefan had just arrived at his house and were on their way inside. "Gavin thought I should ask you if you'd like to come along with Stefan and me."

"I'm about to take him his supper. If he still wants me to go with you, then I guess I'll go."

"Sure, it's your decision. Just let me know."

Celeste did not believe it was her choice; she believed it was Gavin's. She returned her phone to her pocket and headed out.

Meanwhile, Stefan locked the door behind Aimee and himself, as Cornelius emerged from the kitchen.

"Good evening, Ms. Griffiths, Mr. Summers," he gave a slight bow and they greeted him back, before he pointed at the suitcase in Stefan's possession. "May I take that off your hands?"

"It's alright, Cornelius, I'm taking it to my room with me. Thank you."

Cornelius bowed again and disappeared into the kitchen, probably to start one of his many anonymous, delectable dishes, even though Aimee and Stefan were not planning to stay.

"I think I'll buy Luna chocolates. What do you think?"

"I doubt she'll complain," Stefan laughed, lugging the suitcase upstairs. "I'm gonna wash up. Care to join me?"

Aimee responded to his falsely virtuous beam, "I'm afraid I must decline that thoughtful offer."

"Damsel, you break my heart," he whimpered dramatically, his hand clutching to the material over his chest.

"Now, now, you know I love you," she relieved him of the weight of her valise, wheeling it into his room and dropping it at the foot of his bed.

"I'm experiencing mixed feelings regarding that sentence."

Aimee placed her hands on his chest and nudged him lightly into his en suite bathroom, whispering that he had to shower as she closed the door between them.

"Meanie!"

With a laugh, Aimee announced that she was going to use the shower in the bathroom down the hall.

Once clean, Aimee pulled a cerulean-grey T-shirt on over her head, and grey shorts up her calves; the shorts that Stefan had bought her. She wore them with her black sneakers, which she had finally made the time to clean, and a thick knitted cardigan of the same colour. Standing at a mirror, Aimee raked her fingers through her hair and tied it into a ponytail. She stuffed her uniform into her suitcase, when suddenly, she thought of Buckley. Her adventure had started with a strange man she met in a locker room, at the end of a cool shower. She remembered zipping her sports bag closed in the same way and turning around to see him there, in his ominous black shades and suit. Months later, her adventure still wasn't over.

Aimee knocked on and then opened Stefan's door, her case at her legs and her blue-and-purple socks. Stefan was sitting on his bed, dry, but his bottom half was still wrapped in a towel. He jolted to the present, having spent the past near ten minutes in thought, and faced her as she stalked tentatively into the depths of his room.

"I have something important to tell you," he started.

She left her bag where it was and stepped up to him, "What is it?"

Stefan stood and asked possibly the oddest question he had ever asked, "Do you see anything unnatural about my face or my body?"

Aimee knew by his tone that he was serious, so she looked carefully and wordlessly, even though she was itching to say: "I thought we already established that you're unjustly perfect." His skin was like milk; he'd always been moderately fair-skinned, moderately flawless, but not like this. He had not one scratch or blemish or bruise.

"I'm fresh out of battle."

"How?" their faces were identically solemn. "When did this happen, who did this to you? Are-are you okay?" her frantic voice slowed its pace.

"Benjamin, when we were in that cave." – Aimee fetched her favourite pair of Stefan's jeans and a grey-blue sweater from his cupboard, threw them upon his bed as he sat down again – "I feel fine physically. I just don't know how I feel about being... I don't know."

"Get dressed. We're gonna find him."

"Aimee, wait," his hand held her wrist, lightly, as if she still wore a cast around it. "We're not gonna go after him intent on vengeance, okay? I mean, is it such a bad thing anyway, having a microchip? You have one. And I love you, and you love me, and we could be undying together."

Aimee glanced into his mesmerising irises, wondering how those words had come from his lips. He couldn't be serious, he wasn't thinking like himself. Had he heard what he'd said? Was this what grief had done to him, had death left him with a fear of dying? Or was it an absurd kind of love?

"You're right, I love you, but there is nothing natural or good about being undying."

She combed her fingers through his hair and kissed him atop his silky, dew-dropped mane, told him one last time to get dressed, and left him in privacy.