Takes place before the events of Seduction, but doesn't really follow the timeline of the show. If anyone seems out of character, its because I have only seen a handful of episodes. Yeah, leave it to me to get addicted to a show that was cancelled two years ago. But I digress. All comments happily accepted.
***
His eyes snapped open as awareness slowly began to creep into his sleep hazed brain. He stared at the ceiling, fighting to calm his racing heart. Just a bad dream. He sucked in a few deep breaths and exhaled noisily, still getting his bearings straight. He raised himself up on an elbow, surveying his surroundings. The others were sleeping peacefully, unaware of his distress.
He swung his legs over the side of his bed, finding the floor with the soles of his feet. Shoving his bedding to the side, he buried his head in his hands. It's okay, he told himself. She's not here. You're safe here.
Waves of guilt and self loathing swept over him at the thought of her. He fought to suppress the bile rising in the back of his throat. Standing up, he grabbed for the sweatshirt hanging on the back of his desk chair. He quickly pulled on his jeans and sneakers, then soundlessly made his way over to the door. He glanced over his shoulder before gently turning the knob and pulling.
He stepped through the door, pulling it closed behind him. The cool night air cleared away the last of his drowsiness as he lazily stretched and yawned. He was well aware that he was in violation, but to hell with their rules. He needed to get away.
He found his feet carrying him to the docks of their own free will. He stopped short when he noticed a lone figure hunched on the edge of the dock at the water's edge. He squinted, trying to identify the person.
She was laying on the dock, with her legs swinging over the edge of the dock. Her hands were folded behind her, propping up her head. Her gaze was directed straight up, toward the sky. Her chest rose and fell irregularly, giving the impression of some inner turmoil. Her long, blonde hair fanned out over the dark wood. Even from where he stood, he could see the shiny tracks of tears over her cheeks.
He stood indecisively for a minute. He took a step back, not wanting to disturb whoever she was. A twig snapped under his sneaker. The girl sat up quickly, startled. She dragged the back of her hand across her eyes, than cautiously looked over her shoulder. Seeing nothing, she directed her gaze toward the water.
Scott cursed under his breath. Shelby. He snapped his mouth shut, stopping himself from saying "skank" aloud. He turned his back to go, then stopped suddenly. She looked so....defeated. A far cry from her usual tough as nails attitude. This Shelby was vulnerable. The impenetrable walls she built around herself during the day were down.
This Shelby was crying uncontrollably, her shoulders heaving and shaking. Sobs wracked through her slender frame. She brought her knees up to her chest and buried her head in her arms, shutting the world out.
Something beckoned to him. He found himself drawing closer and closer to the anguished girl on the dock. Too wrapped up in her misery, she didn't sense his presence until he was standing directly behind her.
She felt the boards underneath her shift as someone else plopped down beside her. She raised her head a fraction of an inch and peaked over her arms. Of all the people... She momentarily forgot her pain as indignation and embarrassment swept over her. How long had he been standing there?
She unfolded her body from its protective position, then ran her fingers through her hair, attempting to bring back some semblance of order to her appearance. The back of her hand again wiped away the fresh tears clinging to her cheeks.
"What do you want," she said, more resigned than curious. Her voice was shaky and flat and she avoided eye contact.
He shrugged.
She rolled her eyes. "What, no witty insults?"
"Nope."
"What are you doing out here then?"
"Breaking curfew," he said, half smiling at her.
"Oh."
They lapsed into silence. They had reached some sort of unspoken truce, both silently agreeing not be hostile. He broke the silence first.
"Why were you crying?" he asked gently.
"Why do you care?" she shot back, venom dripping from her words.
He stared at her, clearly not buying the bitch routine. She turned her face back toward the water. He tilted his head sideways, scrutinizing the girl next to him. For the first time, he had the distinct impression that maybe he had been wrong about her. All the anger and hostility was an act. Deep down, she was broken. Like they all were.
"I do care," he said softly.
"Sure," she said stiffly. "Tell that to Queenie."
He rolled his eyes. "Leave Juliette out of this."
"Just leave me alone," she said coldly.
"Fine," he said, beginning to get angry. That was what he got for trying to be nice to her.
She sneaked a glance at him. The muscles in his jaw tightened, and his shoulders tensed. He was agitated. She bit back regret at having alienated him once again. Well, she thought, I would have driven him away at some point anyway. Better now than later.
They sat in stony silence. The water lapped at the wood posts supporting the dock and the crickets chirped in the forest. Finally she spoke.
"I used to dance you know."
He was startled. Where the hell did that come from? He just stared at her, not daring to interrupt.
Her voice took on a soft, dreamy quality, as if she were a million miles away. "Ballet. I wasn't that great, but I loved it. No matter how I was feeling, angry, sad, happy, excited, whenever I danced, I felt like I was floating with the clouds. As if my soul had left my body and gone somewhere better. Have you ever felt like that?"
He seriously contemplated her question for a moment. "I guess the closest I ever came to that was when I played football," he admitted.
She was silent, waiting for him to continue. "I felt...invincible. Like nothing could ever touch me." He smiled faintly to himself, remembering what it felt like to play. He looked at her. She was facing straight ahead again, tears slipping from her eyes.
"Hey," he said softly.
She turned to face him, but lowered her eyes. His thumb and forefinger found her chin. He lifted her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. He felt as if the wind had been knocked from him. He had the insane urge to protect her from anything that would ever make her cry again. He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. With the pad of his thumb, he wiped away a few stray tears.
Her eyes slid closed under his touch. Why was he being so sweet to her? Instinctively, she propelled herself into his arms, wrapping her arms around him for dear life. He caught himself as the force of her body almost knocked him over. He wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back and smoothing her hair.
She buried her face in the crook of his neck, hating herself for showing any signs of weakness, but needing the comfort. She whispered her reason for being on the dock that night into his shoulder, knowing he could hear her anyway.
"Today is the day my step father first molested me..."
His arms tightened around her, immediately empathizing with her. If only she knew...
They held each other until the first rays of sunlight beamed across the sky. As they stood, preparing to sneak back to their dorms, she grabbed his hand. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For reminding me of what it felt like to dance."
***
His eyes snapped open as awareness slowly began to creep into his sleep hazed brain. He stared at the ceiling, fighting to calm his racing heart. Just a bad dream. He sucked in a few deep breaths and exhaled noisily, still getting his bearings straight. He raised himself up on an elbow, surveying his surroundings. The others were sleeping peacefully, unaware of his distress.
He swung his legs over the side of his bed, finding the floor with the soles of his feet. Shoving his bedding to the side, he buried his head in his hands. It's okay, he told himself. She's not here. You're safe here.
Waves of guilt and self loathing swept over him at the thought of her. He fought to suppress the bile rising in the back of his throat. Standing up, he grabbed for the sweatshirt hanging on the back of his desk chair. He quickly pulled on his jeans and sneakers, then soundlessly made his way over to the door. He glanced over his shoulder before gently turning the knob and pulling.
He stepped through the door, pulling it closed behind him. The cool night air cleared away the last of his drowsiness as he lazily stretched and yawned. He was well aware that he was in violation, but to hell with their rules. He needed to get away.
He found his feet carrying him to the docks of their own free will. He stopped short when he noticed a lone figure hunched on the edge of the dock at the water's edge. He squinted, trying to identify the person.
She was laying on the dock, with her legs swinging over the edge of the dock. Her hands were folded behind her, propping up her head. Her gaze was directed straight up, toward the sky. Her chest rose and fell irregularly, giving the impression of some inner turmoil. Her long, blonde hair fanned out over the dark wood. Even from where he stood, he could see the shiny tracks of tears over her cheeks.
He stood indecisively for a minute. He took a step back, not wanting to disturb whoever she was. A twig snapped under his sneaker. The girl sat up quickly, startled. She dragged the back of her hand across her eyes, than cautiously looked over her shoulder. Seeing nothing, she directed her gaze toward the water.
Scott cursed under his breath. Shelby. He snapped his mouth shut, stopping himself from saying "skank" aloud. He turned his back to go, then stopped suddenly. She looked so....defeated. A far cry from her usual tough as nails attitude. This Shelby was vulnerable. The impenetrable walls she built around herself during the day were down.
This Shelby was crying uncontrollably, her shoulders heaving and shaking. Sobs wracked through her slender frame. She brought her knees up to her chest and buried her head in her arms, shutting the world out.
Something beckoned to him. He found himself drawing closer and closer to the anguished girl on the dock. Too wrapped up in her misery, she didn't sense his presence until he was standing directly behind her.
She felt the boards underneath her shift as someone else plopped down beside her. She raised her head a fraction of an inch and peaked over her arms. Of all the people... She momentarily forgot her pain as indignation and embarrassment swept over her. How long had he been standing there?
She unfolded her body from its protective position, then ran her fingers through her hair, attempting to bring back some semblance of order to her appearance. The back of her hand again wiped away the fresh tears clinging to her cheeks.
"What do you want," she said, more resigned than curious. Her voice was shaky and flat and she avoided eye contact.
He shrugged.
She rolled her eyes. "What, no witty insults?"
"Nope."
"What are you doing out here then?"
"Breaking curfew," he said, half smiling at her.
"Oh."
They lapsed into silence. They had reached some sort of unspoken truce, both silently agreeing not be hostile. He broke the silence first.
"Why were you crying?" he asked gently.
"Why do you care?" she shot back, venom dripping from her words.
He stared at her, clearly not buying the bitch routine. She turned her face back toward the water. He tilted his head sideways, scrutinizing the girl next to him. For the first time, he had the distinct impression that maybe he had been wrong about her. All the anger and hostility was an act. Deep down, she was broken. Like they all were.
"I do care," he said softly.
"Sure," she said stiffly. "Tell that to Queenie."
He rolled his eyes. "Leave Juliette out of this."
"Just leave me alone," she said coldly.
"Fine," he said, beginning to get angry. That was what he got for trying to be nice to her.
She sneaked a glance at him. The muscles in his jaw tightened, and his shoulders tensed. He was agitated. She bit back regret at having alienated him once again. Well, she thought, I would have driven him away at some point anyway. Better now than later.
They sat in stony silence. The water lapped at the wood posts supporting the dock and the crickets chirped in the forest. Finally she spoke.
"I used to dance you know."
He was startled. Where the hell did that come from? He just stared at her, not daring to interrupt.
Her voice took on a soft, dreamy quality, as if she were a million miles away. "Ballet. I wasn't that great, but I loved it. No matter how I was feeling, angry, sad, happy, excited, whenever I danced, I felt like I was floating with the clouds. As if my soul had left my body and gone somewhere better. Have you ever felt like that?"
He seriously contemplated her question for a moment. "I guess the closest I ever came to that was when I played football," he admitted.
She was silent, waiting for him to continue. "I felt...invincible. Like nothing could ever touch me." He smiled faintly to himself, remembering what it felt like to play. He looked at her. She was facing straight ahead again, tears slipping from her eyes.
"Hey," he said softly.
She turned to face him, but lowered her eyes. His thumb and forefinger found her chin. He lifted her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. He felt as if the wind had been knocked from him. He had the insane urge to protect her from anything that would ever make her cry again. He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. With the pad of his thumb, he wiped away a few stray tears.
Her eyes slid closed under his touch. Why was he being so sweet to her? Instinctively, she propelled herself into his arms, wrapping her arms around him for dear life. He caught himself as the force of her body almost knocked him over. He wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back and smoothing her hair.
She buried her face in the crook of his neck, hating herself for showing any signs of weakness, but needing the comfort. She whispered her reason for being on the dock that night into his shoulder, knowing he could hear her anyway.
"Today is the day my step father first molested me..."
His arms tightened around her, immediately empathizing with her. If only she knew...
They held each other until the first rays of sunlight beamed across the sky. As they stood, preparing to sneak back to their dorms, she grabbed his hand. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For reminding me of what it felt like to dance."