She must think I'm a creature, he thought, his lips curving into a twisted smile. He had saved her, sheltered her, took her in, and cared for her. He never got a "thank you" or an "I love you", as much as he'd wanted so badly to hear it being spoken from her soft, pink lips, bruised and scarred as they may be. But she was here, she was alive, she was breathing, speaking, and currently looking more and more infuriated in front of him. And that was all that mattered.

He watched her furrow her eyebrows and stare into the distance with fire in her eyes. He was sure her heart was racing, blazing with anger as she tried to recall what had happened. She was shot by his father. She was made to bleed on the floor. She was meant to die, but didn't, because of Warner. She was still too blind to see it. The hatred and determination in her eyes could be seen from a mile. A normal person would find her terrifying, but Warner continued to look at her longingly.

Juliette's fists were clenched. It was as if she was trying not to destroy anything. Then Warner looked up at her and smiled.

"You should rest, love," he said, reaching out to touch her. She quickly jerked away.

"How can I?" Juliette snapped. "How can I rest when my friends are out there, probably dying, waiting to be saved?" Her voice cracked when she addressed them as 'friends'. She never really called them as such, not until now. She never realized how important they were to her. She didn't know if she was too late.

Warner reached out again and lightly touched her on the arm. "Juliette, you've been shot. You almost died. You need to take care of yourself."

"I don't have time for that," she replied, pushing him away and stalking towards the door. She gave the knob a little twist to the right, swung the door open, and bolted out the house.

"Juliette!" Warner called, following her out. He grabbed her arm just in time, just before she could open the door that led to the broken, twisted world behind the door. "Juliette, please, listen to me," he pleaded as Juliette spun on her heels.

Juliette faced him. He was smiling, his nose just hovering above hers. His smile was cocky; maybe even a bit too much. He had that smug vibe about him that never seemed to wear off, which, somehow, never failed to make her heart skip a beat. She shook the thought away. She had no time for that now.

But how could she shake them away, when before her eyes flashed the images from the night she allowed Warner inside her room, her safe place? How could she forget his hands as they gently brushed against her skin? How could she forget the taste of the lips of the only boy who could touch her so affectionately, without having to worry about getting killed? She felt her cheeks get hotter as the images started to rush into her head. She'd never felt so alive until that night. The boy who almost stripped her of hope gave her the hope she had badly been looking for. It was ironic. It was silly. But it was true. And there was no denying that she did, in fact, change her mind about the dark, wicked guy who tortured her, broke her, destroyed her, and shattered her to the core of her soul.

Now Warner reached up to sweep a strand of hair from her face, and then tucked it behind her ear. She shivered ever so slightly under his touch, looking as farther away from his eyes as possible.

"Juliette," he muttered, his breath caressing her upper lip.

She rolled her eyes skyward and wished that she could hurt him, just this once. She had to get away. She had to help her friends. The faces of Brendan, Winston, Kenji, and even Castle popped into her head. They could be dying, or worse – dead. She didn't want to think it, but there was no denying the chances of it actually being true. Still, she had to try. She had to do something, anything.

But at that moment, 'anything' seemed so tempting to twist.

She allowed her hands to relax. She breathed in and out of her nose, trying to calm herself, trying to clear her head. Of course she couldn't just run outside and find a solution. She needed a plan. She needed a team. She needed Warner. He was the only one who could lend her a hand. The twin sisters Sonya and Sarah were there, but there was no denying the fact that Warner was the ideal one to have as an ally…or maybe even more than that.

Towering in front of her, Warner looked menacing. But when she looked into his warm eyes, she remembered how he called her beautiful, how he said he loved her, how he wanted to run away with her and how he saved her from death. I owe him, she thought. For a second, she thought of one possibly way of repaying him, but quickly shook it away and mentally slapped herself for even considering it. But how could she not consider it? They were facing each other, a small space between them, their faces almost touching, and their hearts undeniably racing faster and faster.

She couldn't take it any longer.

Juliette reached up to touch his arm, and then smiled. Her hands were shaky, and at that Warner laughed lightly.

"I don't think you'll ever get rest by doing this, love," Warner said, putting his hand on her waist and pulling her closer. As much as he'd love to see her recovering and resting, she was much too irresistible.

"Would you rather watch me bolt out those doors?" Juliette replied, standing on her tiptoes to smell his neck. Gosh, she'd missed that smell so much. All she wanted was to wrap her arms around him and feel him do the same, and fall into a land that's truly theirs alone.

Warner leaned in and rested her cheek against hers. Juliette felt him smile against her skin. "Oh, Juliette," he teased. "Always the threatening one."

As a response, she pulled back slightly and looked into his eyes. "That's something we have in common," she said, planting a small kiss right beside his lips.

It didn't take them long to melt inside each other's arms. Suddenly they were molding together, becoming one, like two objects that can never be separated. Warner slipped his hand under Juliette's shirt, gently rubbing her lower back, making her moan with pleasure. In return, Juliette grasped his thick hair with one hand, the other on his chest. Over the thin material of his shirt, she could feel his heart beat faster with every kiss, with every gasp. He pinned her against the wall, his hands exploring every curve of her body as he continued to shower her with thousands of kisses. Juliette felt vulnerable underneath him. She never felt this way, not until Warner. She didn't feel so scary with him.

He had created some sort of cage with his arms, imprisoning Juliette, the girl he once thought was a machine built to kill, but now was the girl he loved the most. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself up so she could reach him, and then was taken aback when Warner unexpectedly tossed her on top of the bed.

She expected him to lunge forward and go on with it, but Warner just stood at the foot of the bed, his hands crossed over his chest, and a smirk playing on his lips. She had to try her hardest not to show her obvious disappointment.

"As much as I'd love to continue," he started to say, "you really must rest, Juliette."

Juliette rolled her eyes. "I already have," she protested. The despair in her voice made Warner burst out laughing.

Warner dove into the bed and laid himself right beside her. "Rest," he sternly said, planting a long kiss on Juliette's lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself up, and then planted herself right above him. "Juliette," he sighed, pushing her back down.

"Complains the guy who made the first move on me," Juliette replied. She looked at Warner's expression, which was a mix of amusement and annoyance. "Fine." She shut her eyes and pretended to sleep.

"Juliette," Warner whispered, gently drawing lines on her arm.

She smiled to herself, opened her eyes, and looked at him. "Aaron."

And with that simple reply, Warner knew he was forgiven. He knew there could still be an "us". He had hope. He found hope in the girl he almost broke. He found hope amidst a world that seemed currently hopeless.